Hey guys, this isnt a divergence from the main story I have, but rather, I have been trying out a new type of character on my X-Box, a custom class 'Geisha' after seeing the movie 'Memoirs of a Geisha' Recently, and I gotta tell ya, its a lot of fun. Something different to be sure. It inspired this. Enjoy. (I hope.)


“Who was that lady, Sera?” asked Sayuri, looking at Edryno Arethi, her current matron in House Hlaalu.

“No one, get back too your duties, Retainer.” Edrnyo replied, twirling the Black Rose in her hand, a deathly pale in her face, she had been delivered the death message and was in no mood to speak.

Sayuri, the young Bosmer girl had been adopted by House Hlaalu after her parents had been murdered by a Telvanni Mage whilst in Sadrith Mora, and one of the Merchants traveling in his own ship to trade, took pity on the little crying girl, dropping her off in Balmora, and told Nileno Dorvayn of her plight.

She remembered the tsking of Nileno, and the warmth of her palm as she rubbed her cheek affectionately. She was given clothes and a bed, and place to sleep, and she was put to work, alternately being trained in House Hlaalu’s favored skills, for three years she served mostly as a serving girls, performing menial tasks, and occasionally as a thief, or a decoy. She loved it, as it seemed to coincide naturally with her gods-given talents.

Bratheru Oran, Edryno’s lover took the rose from her hand, and threw it on the ground, smashing it underneath his leather boots. His expression showed that of rage and helplessness. Sayuri would not bring it up again for three weeks, but one day, when Edryno gave her a key to her house, and told her that she would be gone for several weeks, she finally explained, as she had never held anything back from her adopted daughter for long.

“Do you remember that Rose, Sayuri? The black one?” she asked, as Sayuri nodded her head, remembering the vivacious Altmer that had delivered it, dressed in exquisite clothing and wearing Telvanni Bug Musk.

“You’ve been chosen, and are being taken from me, under the pain of death, I cannot refuse. The Black Rose Clan is taking you, and you will serve them. I…I am leaving to speak to them, and perhaps negotiate an alternative. But seldom will they refute a selection.”

“Black Rose Clan? Matron, I don’t understand!” Sayuri said nearly on the brink of tears.

“You know of the Morag Tong? They worship the Great Daedra Mephala, the Dark Matron of Murder, Sex, and Secrets. They are a small faction within the Tong, dedicated to the second part of that. Whereas most assassins are dark, aloof, and grim in nature, a Black Rose, or a Dark Petal, also Thorns or Mephala’s Maidens, rely more on Personality and Agility. As every rose have five petals, so does the Clan. When one ‘wilts’ away as they call it, either killed, or grows to old too become pleasing to men, another must be chosen to take their place. You, because you are born under the Sign of ‘The Lover’ which gives you more agility, and the power to freeze people, will become the newest petal in the Black Rose.”

Sayuri’s eyes tried to no avail to hold back the tears of confusion and frustration. For the second time in her life, she was to lose her family. Edyrno ran her hand through the childs raven dark hair, and embraced her, attempting to comfort the shaking Bosmer.

“I know, I promise everything will be all right…”

Interesting. A touching first chapter. I'd tell you in a disrespectful and demanding tone to bring more story, here, now, but you're already one of the fastest updaters here so it may not be necessary. It also brings a bit more life to Edryno, whom I've always seen as a bit of a cold, ruthless businesswoman.

Oh yeah....Blackie, you´ve done it again! This time your charachter is a woman, and I have no doubts you´ll bring her to life as well as you usually do....

This one is most promising and as Milord said: it´s great to learn more of Edryno Arethi a fairly unknown charachter, I mean in the sense of being "alive"

Looks like we'll be seeing a different technique from you with this piece, Black. You're doing third person, something I look forward in seeing how well you work with it, since with it you're more free to delve into other characters as well as the main ones.

This starting definitely has some strong emotions displayed and the philosophy of the Black Rose Clan seems rather interesting. I can't wait to hear more about their methods.

Hmm, fascinating. I don't know if the Black Rose is canon or not (I think non-canon.), but I like it. With the five petals, beautiful description.

As for my own thoughts on 1st/3th person, they both have their advantages. 1st is perfect for when you have only one main character but it gets much harder if you're running around in a party. Unless your main character is constantly reading minds, there's no way he should have a perfect image of the others.

3th is much better for party-based stories but likewise needs more effort to characterize a single character fully.

There's a reason why I like to mess around with perspective in the midst of my work...

(And now a few words [for the bosmer] from Bob Marley)

"Don't worry... about a thing... 'cuz every little thing, is gonna be alright!"

Edryno Arethi returned two weeks later, the time passed both dreadfully quickly and painfully slow for Sayuri. The red-rimmed eyes spoke of the tears that she had shed while gone. Sayuri knew with a look that she had not been successful.

Rather then ask a question she already knew the answer too, Sayuri asked the one she didn’t.

“When, Matron?” the low and painful tone came out.

Edryno put her hand to her brow, the fatigue of the journey and the emotion now taking its final toll. “Soon. Sooner then I thought. She will return for you, and I can’t stop her. Listen to me Sayuri. You will be forced into a world that you cannot yet understand. I have done my best to protect your innocence. But that will be changed soon,...you’ll be asked to kill, to seduce, to lie…you will not be allowed to speak with me anymore, nothing from your past will be with you anymore. I will be as though I were dead.”

Something dark twinged inside of Sayuri. She had lied before. She was a Hlaalu after all, she knew how to haggle, how to speak well. These things were already instilled in her. She grew up firing a bow, and Edryno had taught her in all manners of short blades, her favorite being a Steel Tanto.

And now she was in a conflict, between this new life of some strange mystery being forced upon her, yet the morbid curiosity for it was undeniable. And her present life, spent in the care of Hlaalu, nothing was free, nor was accomplishment unrewarded.

For the next two nights a weird excitement and the torment kept her wide-eyed in bed. Bratheru Oran had come in the middle of the night and sat down on the edge of the bed, and placed a hand on her hip. Twice he had tried to nudge her awake, but she merely pretended to be asleep; he finally left a necklace on her nightstand. With a kiss on her forehead, he whispered something about: “It will take you where you are loved.”

She immediately stirred from underneath the covers, and examined the jewelry in the faint moonlight; it was a sapphire encrusted motif that glowed ever so slightly. She immediately put it on and let herself fall asleep finally.

The Altmer lady had not yet shown up for her the next day. And Edryno told Sayuri not to perform any more chores, to enjoy her last days with her. Deciding to wander about the coasts to the west of Vivec, Sayuri skipped stones across the water, and teased the Mudcrabs with Marshmerrow reeds, running slightly when they put up a slow chase. Her giggling was taken in by a tall figure standing on the upper ledge of the canton, the perfect stillness given by the Shadow was what prompted Sayuri to look up.

The dark-dressed Altmer woman came forward, undeniably beautiful, with eyes that seemed to look into Sayuri’s heart. But those eyes also looked dead, cold. Like an ember that had died out years ago, but glistened because the cold of winter had made them covered in ice. Sayuri’s expression went from that of curiosity, to horror, as she gasped.

She recognized her from that day she delivered the rose. The black rose. Fear gripped Sayuri’s heart, forcing it to beat faster as she suddenly ran south. Where or why was not important, only that she was anywhere but here.

The Altmer woman looked at her carefully, taking in each stride, admiring the speed with a cold calculation. A thin smile forced her lips to curl upwards.

“They always run away…”

Looks like her normal life is about to change. And this Altmer lass seems rather creepy at the moment.

Great work in building the tension buddy!

Oh aye, poor Sayuri....what will become of her? I perfectly understand that she ran away! I would have!

A beautiful quote:



wonderful Blackie!

Beautiful descriptions. And the last sentence: ,,They always run." So foreboding.

I can't really blame our soon-to-be petal. I mean, who wouldn't run? I know that I would run hard as well. Maybe it is a test of endurance and speed. Too slow and you're not worthy.

Sayuri made it to a small port city that she had recognized as Ebonheart. She had been here once or twice before, always on negotiations with the East Empire Company. Dusk was strangling the last vestiges of light in the sky, and she looked around wondering what to do next, as reason washed over her fear, she realized that there was little else that she could do.

She ran as silently as she could to the port, near the Imperial Dragon statue, and she looked around for an opportunity. She saw a Dunmer Shipmaster looking over some records with the Portmaster, and commenting about how he had to go to Sadrith Mora again. She crept as quickly as she could to the ship, and hid in the underdeck.

Sayuri heard a creaking of footsteps, and knew from the powerful thumps, that they were a mans. She soon heard much lighter footsteps, that were graceful, and much more lighter. A woman’s! It was her! She knew it.

“Good Evening, Sera.” Came the muffled but charming tone. Sayuri could tell from the response of the Dunmer, that he had a large smile on his face.

“And a good evening to you! What can I help you with Altmer?”

“Have you seen a little girl? More specifically, a dark haired Bosmer. She is about fifteen or seventeen, wearing a brown robe?”

There was a pause. “No…haven’t seen anyone even fitting that description. And that would stand out, nothing here but deckhands, and fighters guild. Sorry.”

“Its no problem. I thank you very much!” said the voice, and the graceful footsteps faded into the distance, and the usual meandering of the much rougher footsteps of the Shipmaster.

Sayuri pulled her robes around her, and fell asleep between to crates, the creaking of wood against the water, and the splash of the waves lulled her into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

When her eyes finally opened again, she was still in the ship. She felt both the incredible hunger of countless hours, and the excitement in knowing that she had escaped. It was a struggle to rise to her feet, and she became very lightheaded, in the mixture of the conflicting forces.

She crept outside, and carefully opened the deck trap door. Peeking through, she saw nothing, and carefully opened the door, and came up on deck. She was indeed in Sadrith Mora, and judging from the Sun it was eleven a.m. or so. She had slept the entire evening, and most of the morning.

When she looked at the Gateway Inn, the horrible memories of her parents being killed right in front of her by that Telvanni came flooding back, fire and shock engulfed their bodies, while she was she was spared, and given a look of utter arrogance from the mage. Tears welled up in her dark eyes, but she pushed the memory away. It was time to see where she would end up, now that she was on the run.

Entering the Inn, she was callously greeted by a Dunemr in blue robes, that called himself ‘Angarredhel’ and explained that if she wanted to walk abroad in Sadrith Mora, that she must purchase the hospitality papers for twenty-five gold.

Sayuri examined her gold bag, and counted the contents.

“I only have twelve gold pieces, Sera…” she replied meekly.

“Then you may not enter our town. This Inn is as far as you go.” He replied sternly, and dismissed her with a wave.

Sayuri’s eyes became desperate. She couldn’t have gotten this far to be stopped by something as trivial as money. You’re a Hlaalu! Now start acting like one! She scolded herself. Reminding herself to look for the opportunities that are always around, a small chest with a weak lock..a drunk slumped over in the fruits of his binge drinking,..all targets of opportunity.

With a dread chill, she felt a talon-like hand with seemingly supernatural strength grip her arm. With a look of shock on her face, she looked up into the towering form of the Altmer lady, the black rose, with a superficial look of cordiality on her face.

“Ah, there you are, Sayuri! The Shipmaster had said you went on in ahead of me. Angaredhel,..she’s with me, a friends daughter simply insisted that I take her with me the next time I came. Can you believe that she’s never seen Sadrith Mora?”

Angaredhel looked over from his desk, and his demeanor immediately did a one-eighty. “Ah, Errisa! You cruel lass! Depriving me of your presence with your seldom visitations! If I had known you were coming, I wouldn’t be wearing this old frock!”

Errisa’s charming demeanor laid on thick. “Nonsense, Dear! You look fine! But now that we will be staying here for a while in town, I’ll buy the papers for my charge.”

Angaredhel smiled at her. “Errisa! You know me better then that! Of course she will have her papers…free of charge!” he said cordially, looking down at Sayuri, and giving her a smile, and scrathing his pen over the long-winded speech that were the Hospitatlty Papers.

Sayuri was to frightened to say or do anything to the contrary of the subtle commands of Errisa. She was also hesitant to put a name to this dark shadow that had entered her life. But nonetheless, Erissa pulled her upstairs and sat her down at the bar, putting a finger over her ear, she put Sayuris hair back, and gave her a smile that she could actually feel the warmth from. With Angaredhel, it had been fake, an act, with her it was real.

“A horrible man that one, truth is I despise him! But, that’s our nature in the Black Rose. Deception. You’ll learn the art soon enough, dear…but that can wait. In the meantime, you must be starving! Stuck on that ship for the whole night and morning! Lets get you something to eat!”

Sayuri said nothing, but did manage to wolf down three layers of Hound Meat. And felt the apprehension slowly dissipate, as the beautiful Altmer watched her eat, from the corner of her eyes, she saw the exquisite clothing, and desired it. From her nose, she could smell the Telvanni Bug Musk that she wore, and she desired it. Who was this Errisa? And more importantly, how did she find her.

As if reading her mind, Errisa began to talk in low tone as she sipped from a goblet, some wine, in a very elegant fashion, as though she spent weeks learning how to hold the glass just so.

“I was following you from the Canton, of course. I even saw you stow away on that ship in Ebonheart, just to make certain you weren’t seen, and to give you a glimmer of false hope, I pretended to ask the Shipmaster if he had seen you. The rest you know. But you will find that it is very hard to deceive a spider, sweet Sayuri. Though I hope you learn to..”

Sayuri said nothing, but finally managed to look Errisa in her eyes. There was a quiet laughter in those dead eyes.

“Where are we going after this?”

“Nowhere, sweetheart. Sadrith Mora was where I was taking you to begin with. Why do you think I did not pull you off the ship as you slept? You fell into a trap that I never set. I saw the opportunity for you to come here quite willingly, and it would have been much harder to take you here by force, so I let you become your own worst enemy.” She said with the dignified tone of a Speechcraft Master.

Sayuri nearly kicked herself, realizing that this beautiful monster was nothing to be toyed with, yet at the same time, she could not help but feel an innate connection with her. Desiring what she had, wanting the power over men that she displayed.

Seeming to read her mind again, Errisa looked at her and gave a sweet smile. “In due time, my little Black Anther, in due time.”

Crafty, very crafty. I've certainly been enjoying this new work of yours Black Hand, it has some unique qualities about it and yet it still has the noticable "Black Hand" style to it. Simply wonderful! You must continue!

Sayri was taken to a mushroom Villa of sorts on the Island. Clearly a Telvanni, Errisa had the place furnished with the finest of luxuries and tapestries, the shelves were lined with books and alchemical equipment. On some walls, rare weaponry was prominently displayed, including a complete Daedric Akavir weapon set, all four weapons completed the series from the Dai-Katana to the Tanto. Sayuri’s hand reached out to touch one of them, while Errisa looked on with a matronly gaze.

“Sera, I have never seen anything so..exquisite! How have you managed to afford all this?” Sayuri exclaimed.

“Most of it was inherited from my former ‘Sister’. The Clan does not stay in one place for very long. Speaking of which, as I will soon begin your tutelage, we will now refer to one another as such, Sister…. I am now your family, Sayuri.”

Sayuri’s dark eyes became enraged. “Don’t you dare call me that! Don’t you ever think that I am anything like you! Maybe you have me for now. But Ill find a way out of here soon enough!”

Errisa simply smiled, and slowly walked towards the girl. Her towering form intimidating the little Bosmer, and Sayuri shrank in her shadow. With but a flick of her wrist, Errisa had Sayuri turned around, the cold glint steel against her throat.

Errisa whispered out the short threat. “If you do, then I’ll have no choice but to kill you, and everyone you love, sweetie. You don’t want that. And whether you believe me or not, neither do I. You see. My real sister was killed to teach me the consequences of betraying our secrets, and breaking our laws. I pray that you learn from my mistakes.”

With a gasp, Errisa released Sayuri, the Bosmer put her hand to her throat and looked up at Altmer. Pain was in those eyes. Real pain. With a flick of her fingers, the dagger disappeared, and Errisa made her way to the bar area, and poured out two drinks.

“I know you’re a tad young for wine. But you may as well get used to it early on. You will need to develop a tolerance for alcohol, as well as knowing how to drink.” She said handing the crystal goblet, to which Sayuri clasped between her hands, and took a whiff of the contents.

Errisa shook her head, with a slight laugh. “No, Dear. Like this…” she said, holding the goblet with one hand, the three lower fingers wrapped around the stem, and the bottom bulge of the container between her thumb and forefinger, Sayuri copied her movements almost exactly.

“Good. Not bad for a first try. Now, sip…little bits at a time, and for Mephala’s sake, don’t slurp!” she said demonstrating.

Sayuri’s curiosity prompted the first question that would begin her training. “Why does the Black Rose kill people, if there is a Morag Tong, what is the point of the Clan?”

Errisa sat down on a stool, and her green eyes began to swirl with some semblance of life, as she looked into faded memories of when she was first told the story.

“Long ago, The Morag Tong was composed of Chimer, the Velothi Dissidents who abandoned the Altmer civilization for Morrowind. During their exodus, there was little need for the Tong to have internal laws, or customs. And they largely acted as spies and assassins externally. That is, they focused more upon their enemies, then inside the clans.”

”In fact, the original members of the Morag Tong, which means ‘Foresters Guild’ were just that: Foresters. Hunters. Bows for hunting down prey, daggers for skinning. Mephala saw a completely new purpose that they could serve, and founded the Morag Tong as we know it today. In fact, the original Moraga worshipped Hermaeus-Mora, Mephala’s brother. It is said some even worshipped Hircine.”

“What is not commonly known, even within the Guild, and has connections to the schism between the Dark Brotherhood and the Morag Tong, was that Mephala intended for a Matron to watch over the guild always, the Night Mother, as you have undoubtedly heard of. This has changed, as the Male-dominated society of the Dunmer changed the practices of the Tong from a religious order, to a much more….business-like atmosphere.”

“The Black Rose makes certain that the Religious aspects of the order, that is, murdering in the name of Mephala, and having a strong feminine presence remains true. Our sphere, is Murder, Sex, and Secrets. Secret Assassination in the throes of passion is most pleasing to our Matron. Even the Morag Tong has need of our special talents once in a while. We are pleasant to men. We become their deepest fantasies, keeping them on the brink of madness and pleasure, and when the moment is true, we strike like hidden vipers that we are. We are Mephala’s female side of her dual nature.”

Sayuri could scarcely believe what she was hearing, and her face became deathly pale. “You want me to , to…become a murdering mother of mine?” she nearly cried out.

“No. We are not prostitutes, for we seldom sleep with men for money. We take lives in the name of justice; we are priestesses of a darker shade. Outsiders may look upon us with fear and disdain, and yet, they cannot look away. For we are, what in their souls, they yearn for most. We are free, free of emotion, free of love, free of fear.”

Sayuri dropped her glass in shock, the dark red hue of the liquid soaking into the rug beneath the barstool.

Errisa tsked. “That was one of my finer rugs, been in the clan for at least three generations…”

Haha, funny way to end this update Black. I enjoy dark humour

So now we find out exactly what the Black Roses do. And I have to say, it's quite ingenious and the logic for it works perfectly. Well done, sir, well done!

Oops, caught through your own escape. Man, that must make you feel stupid.

Anyway, I liked the conversation here. And a funny line at the end with the rug.

Horror soon gave way to fascination. Sayuri was entranced with this new lifestyle that had been thrust upon her. She was taught everything. The passage was harsh and cruel. She had to walk just so, speak just so. Failure was met strict physical punishment. That punishment would be anything from a whipping, to picking a lock upside down, in freezing cold water while stripped. She would run out of breath in Zafirbel Bay, and Errisa would hold her head under, until a blackness washed over her.

She would awaken to verbal chastising, always about how there is no room for failure. That there were no freebies, one mistake would result in her death. She would cry quietly in a corner until Errisa threw a book at her and told her to start over, balancing the book on her head and walking just so.

She learned how to play a lute, and sing. She read ancient tomes in daedric sigils. She learned where the best places to sink a dagger into flesh were. She learned how to throw a silver dart with pinpoint accuracy. She learned how to hide in plain sight, and how to hide in shadow. She learned how to speak to people. Above all, she learned. Within three years, Sayuri was a worthy apprentice, and as intelligent as an Imperial Scholar. And, most importantly she had bloomed into a beautiful woman. A black rose.

Errisa examined her protégé. She stood behind her, as Sayuri looked into the mirror. As a graduation present, Errisa had bought her a new dress. Not just any, one from the Clothier Elegnan, in Tel Mora. Another Bosmer, she understood the subtleties in the Wood Elf form like no other. The elegant silks hugged every curve, and the neckline was revealing, yet tasteful.

“And I have one more thing for you, sister.” Errisa said, handing her a small blade.

Sayuri took the gift and unsheathed it. The dagger was perhaps no more than eight inches in length. The handle was a pure black ebony, fluted with a hand carved swirl from the bolster to the pommel. The pommel itself was wrapped with a sapphire- blue band at its base, and topped off with a silver knob. The bolster was a similar silver, and the guard was a large, severe, oval with a similar sapphire blue decoration, but with a diagonal silver inlaid in sections, making the sapphire blue a series of squares.

The blade was an equally beautiful design, double-edged; with the base of the blade meeting the rest with a couple of spike-like protrusions, then arcing back to meet the rest of the blade, that extended into a slender inch, then arced out again into the fluted design, only to meet again at a sinisterly sharp tip.

“The metal is an alloy of adamantium and silver. It is unenchanted of course, as we wouldn’t want a wizard to sense where you are, even in shadow. But still able to ignore any resistance to normal weapons.”

“It’s beautiful, sister...” Sayuri said, trailing off.

“Yes, the blade and you are alike in many ways. Beautiful, yet deadly. Most effective when used in the right way at the right time. And it too, is a virgin blade.”

Sayuri looked at the mirror, into Errisa’s eyes. The dead green emeralds were laughing and dancing, crowing about the secret that they knew.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that while you have studied and practiced; you still have yet to experience. To experience what it truly means to be a dark petal.”

“You mean I have to kill someone? Or sleep with someone?”

“Dear Sister, for you it will be one and the same. There have been plans for you set forth from years back. Have you never questioned why we are in Sadrith Mora?”

Sayuri’s brows knitted. It was on the tip of her tongue. It was a lantern that had always been there, but had now suddenly been lit. Sadrith Mora was the place that she had come back too, even after that terrible day, so many years ago.

The pieces slowly started to fit together.

I had to reread the first part before I understood what the lady meant with 'why you returned to Sadrith Mora'.

Now I'm not going to argue over which method of assassination is most effective (Morag Tong, or Black Rose), but I am going to say you need a certain state of mind in order to be willing to do some things here.

"Yes, now you see. Your rite of passage shall be your vengeance. You will please the Mother, with your hand covered in blood, and your..." Errisa's words faded out as Sayuri's mind recalled that terrible day.

Dombadil was born to a poor clan in Valenwood. So he left home to seek his fortune. He found it in smuggling., sailing to ports of call all over Tamriel.

Aranwen was born to a middle class family in Cyrodiil. She left home to find excitement, and found it in the thieves’ guild in Gilane, Hammerfell.

And so, when the smuggler and the thief met to discuss business in a tavern in Gilane, they also caught each other’s eye. Which resulted in a union and a daughter, that they named Sayuri.

For as long as she could remember, Sayuri sailed the seas, and lived in Inns with her mother and father. She didn't know the hows or the whys, but for a time she was happy. Then one day, on the ship, while her mother and father thought she was asleep had a whispered argument.

Her mother said that she had a lucrative contract, very lucrative. But it meant going to Morrowind. Too far, too dangerous, her father argued. And this was a life for their child, her mother fought back.

A long silence.

A whispered thank you from her mother, and the sound of a kiss.

Brithos Andrethi was a Spellwright in the House of Telvanni, he was also a 'squatter' in the molag amur region. He was in possession of the sole copy of a book of akaviri poetry, reputedly left by one of the snake-folk from the invasion. He had spent much of his life translating it and even developed a taste for the alien prose.

So when he awoke one morning, and his treasure was gone, his anger was understandable. The retainers he had that weren't burned to death were sent to find his beloved book. One retainer was a nightblade, and a member of the thieves’ guild too. She was able to find out who the thieves were, and even knew that they were still at the gateway inn waiting for charter to leave.

Aranwen, Dombadil, and Sayuri left the inn to the docks, her mother kissed her father on the cheek, and they were happy. Aranwen knew that the commission on the item would be more than enough to settle down, and really start their family.

Brithos stood on the docks too, waiting for the thief family. His anger was unimaginable.

Sayuri blacks out this part, but she knew every second of it. The dark scary man reaches out to the leather satchel. Grabs the book, yells at her mother, spit flying from his mouth. Her father reaches out pushing him back, anger on his words and mouth.

The firestorm eats him in seconds. All that is left is a black charred skeleton. Her mother grabs her. Her mother screams, and screams. The dark scary man walks over, his ash-grey hand reaches out. Her mother throws Sayuri from her. The firestorm erupts once more.

Sayuri can’t move, the dark scary man comes to her, she says nothing. He sees her dark eyes and hair, the fear in them. He switches anger to pity, and mutters something under his breath. He disappears in a blue purplish light.

A nice dark man, came over to her, he saw the whole thing. She won’t speak, she won’t move. The bug-heads called the guards won’t help the nice dark man, they don’t want anything to do with her. They remind the nice dark man, that he is in Telvanni territory, and that the Telvanni is in his rights.

The nice dark man takes her to Balmora. She tells her name to the nice dark lady. She is Sayuri.

How long had it been since he had last been here? Five years, maybe seven? It did not matter, time was on his side. Spellwright Andrethi walked in through the gate door into Sadrith Mora, and set about what he always did when he visited, looking through new tomes, picking up some new alchemical ingredients, and conversing with the retainers, mouths, and mages on old news, new news, theories and spells.

Also was his custom, was to drink a small bottle of flin to himself at Fara’s hole in the wall, before returning to Mababael, his stronghold. However, today held a strange deviance from his normal experiences in Sadrith Mora. Rather than the usual low grumbling of patrons steeped in greef, a little bosmer lass, no more than twenty years, began playing on her lute.

The notes were unlike any style he had heard, like raindrops on a guarskin drum. Echoing and preternatural, he immediately felt his mind pay complete attention to her lithe fingers moving up and down the strings.

Then like a summer wind on a spring day, her voice began lilting a tune out, weak and shy at first, she called out stronger as the song grew into its true resonance. She sang of distant mountains that called her spirit to climb them upwards to Aetherius itself. She sang of the loved ones that would miss her, but that the journey was needed. She sang of trials and tribulations, she sang of pain, she sang of triumph.

When her set had finished, the bowl at the foot of the chair was to the brim with septims. All the patrons clapped her heartily; all the while one set of red eyes watched her intently. What would have surprised her had she known him at all, was that he was smiling.

Sayuri drank the complimentary brandy, speaking with Fara about her fabricated story about being a travelling minstrel from Valenwood. Fara told her how she was so happy that she wandered into her tavern, as business was up. The locals were abuzz about the singer that had set up in town, and they wanted to know how long she would be in town for.

“Azalea of Blackleaf clan.” Fara told the wizard, as soon as the minstrel made her way to her room. She had seen a few retainers from Neloth in her place, but not one who seemed to be a Mage-Lord. Much less one who seemed to be smitten with her latest attraction.

“I see, and she is staying here for a time? I believe my visit to Sadrith Mora can be extended a few days as well.” Brithos responded. “And tell me, how often does Azalea play?”

“We negotiated for three sets a day. Once after midday, another after work’s end, and the last after moonrise. She just finished her work’s end set, so her next one will be in about four hours.”

“Splendid.” The spellwright smiled.

Splendid indeed. I only saw this for the first time the other day, I'm not sure how I missed it exactly when you first started writing it, and it's fascinating. I've just devoured the story so far, and Sayuri is becoming a superb lead character, so full of life and conflict. I'm really looking forward to seeing how this progresses, it's a terrific read

Hmm, the slow approach. Ah well, there won't be that many people left who think she might actually be an assassin after she'd stuck around for a few days doing this stuff.

Just one thing though. What is she going to do with the admirers who aren't her desired victim?
(Normally a simple 'no thanks' should suffice, but this is Telvanni teritory, so anything goes.)

Well, to answer the question, if someone gets in her way, she kind of has to defend herself. But don't forget Dark Petals are religious, and what they do is how they worship, they weave thier own webs, for the webspinner.

The slow approach isn't 'slow' at all, it's THEIR approach. They are sirens, calling in men to thier ruin.

Errisa twirled the kreshweed flower between her fingers. She gently brought the petals to her nose, inhaling the intoxicating scent of Azura’s Coast. Her little protégé was doing so well!

“So he has sent you gifts, and enticed you back to his stronghold already. One thousand drakes for one night of music, I am certain.” Errisa said with a darkly humorous twist to her lips.

Sayuri sat on her Matrons couch her face a blank page. Inside, however she was a tortured soul. To be so close to the man who had taken her parents from her, and to smile to his face. To walk just so, to speak to him and laugh. It was a dance, as Errisa had taught her, and she was certainly leading.

She also realized the web that had been weaved, her target selected for her, years before. And while she had thoughts of escaping, of refusing to kill, of maintaining her innocence. They had selected the one person that she would never refuse to kill. She now knew him by the name of Brithos Andrethi.

She had embraced the skills that had been instilled in her over these many years. Because she hated him, because she wanted him to suffer. Not because Mephala was pleased by it, and not because the Black Rose wanted it. Because she did.

“I take it you have accepted the invitation?” Errisa said placing the flower back into the vase.

“I’m playing coy for the meantime, but said I would have an answer at the end of my set tonight.”

“Good. You will of course accept. He will of course listen to you sing, and then will want to engage you in conversation, a drink perhaps. Then. When he is feeling just a little drunk, and more than a little amorous, he will try words, then touch, then emotions, and then force to take you into his bed. Between touch, and emotions, is when you must accept his advances. See them through….and then…..” she said looking to Sayuri’s wrist, concealing her dagger.

Sayuri as Azalea Blackleaf finished her set that evening with a song that she had written herself. It was a slight transcendental piece that spoke of loneliness, loveliness, and loss. Brithos said he loved it, as he approached her, gently inquiring her about her his initiation.

Sayuri accepted of course, with a smile and a demure look downwards. Brithos arranged for the two to meet the next morning at the docks.

She wore the light blue robes of a Telvanni mage, with simple designs around the edges of the sleeves and flaps, fastened together by a matching belt tied in the khajiit monk style with the two extra long edges meeting the bottom flap of the robe. Across her back, her lute lay. Hidden in her sleeves her dagger lay.

She let the winds of Zafirbel Bay blow her dark hair about, as she awaited the loss of two things that held her back from becoming a dark petal.

Brithos walked across the tendrils of the mushroom that made the docks. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and extended one to the ship that awaited them. She smiled and began the walk forward.

A boat?.....Well that's perfect! It's romantic, no one to interupt. You got candles? I know just how to create the perfect scene and...

Oh, who am I kidding? You just eliminated most of the potential witnesses and if this is one of those fancy boats that are steered by Magicka and don't require a crew, you just removed all the witnesses. Yup, everything's according to plan. MUHAHAHAHA...cough...

The journey was a short one, within the sun’s descent she and the wizard were within the stronghold cleverly hidden within the volcanic rock of Molag Amur, within sight of the coast. Telvanni rarely cared for anything outside their own strongholds. It was equally strange that this ambitious spellwright would even consider taking an outsider to his home.

The Telvanni ranking lords were not well known for carrying on their roles through family, rather they seemed to prefer simply recruiting powerful apprentices to carry on their work. But as telvanni lived for ages, perhaps the families of the past were simply forgotten, and the image of the solitary wizard obsessed with power, was all that remained. Though there were rumors, and whispers, that these wizards, usually to self-absorbed to look up from whatever tome they were reading, would occasionally find a person interesting enough to take a respite and focus their energies for a short time on them.

If these rumors were true, then it was certainly the case for Brithos’ interest in the girl he called Azalea. As he welcomed her into the Velothi style home, telling the Breton Spellsword retainer to show her to her room, and set her up with all the accommodations she required.

The night moved slowly into Sayuri’s set, with the room that Brithos usually used for teaching his retainers in a few levels of power below his, set up for Azalea. Raised upon the dais, sitting in a comfortable chair, obviously built in a hlaalu district, Brithos and his half a dozen retainers sat and listened for two hours as she played in her unique style, and playing Brithos affections with coy glances.

The set ended with the retainers applauding enthusiastically, rising as he did. He then ordered a feast to be drawn up, and bade Azalea to follow him to a trophy room of sorts. As they waited for the food to be served he went over a multitude of objects from enchanted katanas, to rare scrolls, to unique tomes.

Then he lifted a book that Sayuri immediately recognized, its aged red leather stifling a gasp from her. Brithos looked over at her and smiled. “Yes, it is beautiful, is it not? This is a one of a kind, a book of Akaviri poetry, that I alone know the translation too. Its verses are strange, but well worth the time spent on it. I confess it means much to me. So much so, that I even hunted down and killed two would-be thieves once. Telvanni justice, my dear. But you have nothing to fear from me.” He set the book down.

Dinner was announced as ready, and Brithos gestured that they leave the room. The entire meal Sayuri held back her dark thoughts of the knowledge that she had seen what her parents had died for, a bloody book! Pages and ink, wrapped in a dead cow’s skin!

As the evening wore on, the retainers retired one by one, until it was only Brithos and Azalea seated at the table, first came the conversation, then came the drinks. Then came the words. Then came his hands on hers. Then came his confessions of loneliness.

Sayuri leaned over and kissed him softly, her head moved back slightly, lips slightly parted. Brithos looked at her. The dark eyes, the dark hair, then enticing smells and sounds of a woman’s body. He leaned in and he kissed her back.

There was a small trail of clothes leading to Brithos’ bed, and in the dark torchlight two figures moved around under the sheets passionately like a snake captured in a sack desperate to escape.

Brithos fell onto his back while Azlaea straddled him, she looked down on him with a look of gloating triumph, that could have been mistaken for desire.

“Ask me what my sign is Brithos.” She said with a musky undertone. Brithos already in a gleeful mood played along.

“Azalea, what is your sign?”

“The Lover.”

“How very, very fitting.”

“According to the firmament, what can a lover do?”

“Excuse me?” Brithos asked getting lost from the game.

“What can a Lover do?”

“Freeze others with a kiss, they say…Azalea, what are you…” he stopped as she leaned in and kissed him softly.

“My name is Sayuri, daughter of Dombadil and Aranwen. The bosmer you killed for your poetry you rat-loving son of a (censored)” she said brandishing her dagger, and going to work on the paralyzed from of Brithos.

Errisa and Sayuri left Sadrith Mora on a small skiff into the fog soon to be burned away by the morning sun. Errisa wore a hooded robe a dark blue color, and looked down at Sayuri playing a quiet tune on her lute, wearing a dark brown monk’s frock. She gave a smile as she thought that her sister was her equal now. She was a priestess of Mephala.

“You’ve spoken nary a word since you’ve returned, dear sister. I know the first time is the hardest…”

“That is not why I am quiet, Errisa. I am quiet because I am scared how calm I am. How easy it truly was.”

“Then it was your innermost wish, your darkest desire. To kill the man, who killed your sires.”

“Yes.” She said looking plainly out to Zafirbel Bay. “Yes it was.”

“The Mother will be pleased. She chose you and your first target well. Secrets, Sex, and Murder. Mephala is strengthened by your offerings.”

Sayuri cocked her head to the side ever so slightly, so the side of her face was visible to Errisa. “The Mother? Do you mean the Chief Priestess? “

“The Chief Priestess becomes ‘The Mother’ when she swallows Mephala’s spirit. She becomes Mephala.”

Sayuri nodded slightly. She understood some of the basics of the metaphysical aspects of her order. Basically, myth itself was woven into the Aurbis, symbols could tap into myth, and mortals could symbolically become myth. Errisa once said: ‘..we walk like them, until we become like them…’

“So when do I get to hear all about it? You know this trip will last a few days..” Errisa said genuinely interested in her macabre story.

For the next few hours Sayuri surrendered all the details, the set, the dinner, the seduction. Then the moment of truth, how she had paralyzed him with her power. Made him to suffer, taking her time, opening the cavity in the chest…

Errisa listened to each word intently, rowing with an incredible stamina. She finally commented that Sayuri had in fact ‘walked like them’.

Errisa and Sayuri set in the port town of Suran, setting up into the tradehouse in town for the night. Though there were two beds, Errisa slept in the same bed as her sister that night, knowing she needed comfort. Despite her cruel tutelage those many years, Sayuri did not push her away. In many ways she felt closer to her now than ever, wondering if Errisa had to endure this life as well.

The morning light brought with it a sense of renewal, breakfast, and tea. Errisa and Sayuri looked and spoke to one another not as master and pupil now, but as equals, friends.

“The Mother has been eager to meet you these many years. And now is your final step. I’m almost proud. I will miss you.” Errisa said sipping her drink.

Sayuri nodded. “Who is she? I mean what is she like?”

“You’ll find out when you meet her. We are forbidden from speaking about her.”

“Right, secrets, assassins. I get it.”

Errisa shook her head slightly. “You misunderstand. I did not say that we were forbidden to speak OF her. Simply forbidden from trying to describe her, it’s the practice of acknowledging that the divine is beyond our mortal comprehension. When we attempt to attach labels to things, it limits them.”

“But we can speak of the Chief Priestess?”

“Of course, her name is Genevieve Girarde.”

“A Breton?” Sayuri interrupted.

“Yes. Does that surprise you, Bosmer?”

“I was expecting a Dunmer.”

“She is the first outland priestess; the other two members are Dunmer however. In fact the three of us are also the first outland members as well. Genevieve was first, then myself. She was even my instructor. Then of course you came along.”

“I would like to meet Genevieve.”

“Soon.” Errisa said looking over Sayuris shoulder...

I'm stunned, Blackie! And I'm NOT saying this because I like you, this story is awesome, your descriptions are so vivid, I can see her, the little Sayuri, the picture you painted of her is so clear set inside my mind.

I've quoted some lines below that caught my attention!




Poetry this is....so beautiful!



Humour....dark, great humour.....I can just see her saying this!




Bang! Right in my chest!.....I almost "freeze" reading it....




Sheer beauty!




This is a description I really like.....yep, I can "see" it



Brrr.....makes me shiver!

Hey Blackie....obviously you know a great deal about how women think and react! Sayuri is thrustworthy and feels real.....and believe me....I know what I'm talking about!

Sayuri followed Errisa’s gaze over her shoulder, and took notice of two vivacious Dunmer Maidens walking toward their table. The walk, the poise, the dress. These were the other two Dark Petals.

Errisa arose from her chair, smiling and arms outstretched, silently cooing out ‘sisters!’ The other two returned her embrace, chatting nonsensically about the years spent apart, until finally they looked down at the nervous Bosmer.

They introduced themselves as Anssi Tyravel, and Dralsie Andules. Anssi had short reddish hair, and Dralsie had long dark brown hair in two ponytails that came down either side of her neck. Both hugged Sayuri and welcomed them to the family.

Anssi, the more passionate of the two, was the first to probe Sayuri for information, her first kill, how it now felt to be a member. To which Sayuri replied plainly, provoking an ‘ahh’ response from Dralsie, who was a bit more intelligent and methodical in her demeanor.

Dralsie folded her hand around Sayuri’s, a warm and soft grasp. “Don’t you listen to her, little one; her first time was followed by a week of crying and flin. You’re doing just fine; I think you’re going to make a great Sister.”

Sayuri gave a polite smile and nod. Dralsie saw through this and began a little pep talk.

“Look, I know it seems macabre that we sit around and discuss what we do like we came from the market. However it is what we do. The Morag Tong is definitely a fraternity to our sorority, but don’t forget that those we take for Mephala, deserved what they had coming. We believe in an ancient form of justice, when those who have wronged another pay in equal terms. Gold is not equal to a life. Only another life is. And somewhere deep inside; you agree. That is why Andrethi lies dead. Telvanni justice indeed.” She spat out the last sentence, truly disgusted by his actions years ago.

Sayuri smiled again, this time genuinely, grateful that someone shared her viewpoint. “But ,what about Mephala’s pleasure in all of it. That’s what bothers me. She is a Daedra, she cares not about mortal justice, just her realm, and sphere being strengthened.”

“True.” Dralsie nodded, impressed. “The spider can be a fickle mistress. But we are all caught in her web, we are a part of the society that she helped build. Soon, when the higher truths begin to form in your mind, you may come to see things as we do more clearly. But you are already so advanced for your age.”

“I’ll thank you for the compliment.” Errisa said extending a finger at Dralsie. “I am after all, a great teacher.”

“Say, girls. Has she ever been to Desele’s?” Anssi said with a mischievous look in her eye that was pointed right at Sayuri. “I mean when was the last time we were all in Suran at the same time?”

“No. No. No. NO!” Errisa started.

“You remember what happened last time. Genevieve had to bail us out from the Magistrate.” Dralsie finished.

“How was I supposed to know you had to have a permit to dance in there? Besides I’m not talking about using the kitty sugar this time.”

“Stop!” Errisa said putting a hand in Anssi’s face. “We really don’t want to give Sayuri the wrong impression. We are not….party girls. We do serious things.”

“The ONE time we cut loose.” Anssi protested.

Errisa considered it. “When is Genevieve due?”

“Three days, minimum.” Dralsie nodded, liking the idea more with each nod of her head.

Errisa looked at Anssi. “No sugar this time?”

“Swear to the holy three, the sugar I will let be.” Said Anssi, making some religious sign with her hands.

Sayuri of course was somewhere between laughter and incredulousness.

“What is Desele’s?” she asked, which prompted laughter from the trio at the table.

“It’s a place where men are boys, and women can be women.” Dralsie said with a chortle.

The foursome entered into the House of Earthly Delights, giggling. The three senior members of the Black Rose took the lead to an empty table, amid the stares of the patrons at the unusual patronage. Sayuri however was left standing and staring, until her wrist was grabbed and she was sat down.

“Are they?..Can they?...They’re naked!” Sayuri exclaimed.

The three girls looked at her with mischievious grins, drinking in her reaction to the infamous Desele’s. On three dais’, danced an equal number of naked girls. Redguard, Breton, and Nord, the three shades of skin each glistened with a layer of sweat, moving and gyrating to the upbeat rhythms of the drunken Hlaalu Dunmer Band, wearing nothing but their smiles. Smiling even more with the addition with the familiar three, and the unfamiliar little Bosmer with the shocked expression on her face.

“Now, now little one, it wasn’t too long ago that you were in a same position as these girls, no?” Errisa said making fun of her former pupil.

“That was different, I didn’t show my body for the whole world to see!” she retorted.

“I see. You feel some moral outrage? Who are they hurting, sweetheart?” Dralsie said with a slightly challenging tone.

Sayuri looked around the bar. Topless waitresses serving frothing mugs of greef to the regulars, patrons with eyes locked onto the dancers. There was, contrary to popular belief, no riots breaking out, no massive rapes, and Akatosh had not stopped times flow, and torn Nirn asunder. It was just a bunch of men drinking, watching girls dance, and tossing drakes at the stage.

“No one. It’s just…” Sayuri started.

“It just goes against how you were raised, even House Hlaalu with their own set of dubious morals, are still composed of Dunmer, Anssi and I know. We’re from here. Just have some greef. And enjoy yourself.” Dralsie replied.

Sayuri did just that, and eventually fell into a relaxed state of mind. Feeling the beat of the guarskin drums, and notes of the fiddle and lute.

Sometime during the few hours they were there, Anssi leaned over to Sayuri, and put a folded up paper in her hand. “I swore that I wouldn’t do it. You didn’t.”

It was moon sugar all right. Rumored to be an open source at the House of Earthly Delights, patrons were generally allowed to do it by the local guard, provided they stayed on their best behavior, and inside the tavern. It was taboo. It was wrong on many levels. Sayuri decided to try it.

What happened next was a blur, she sifted it into her mug when the others were not looking, and drank it slowly, letting its powerful effects slowly reach into her mind, her body like a few tendrils of vapor that lit up dormant areas of her brain.

It was equal parts stimulant and sensory enhancer, she soon discovered. The music, while strong in her mind before, largely due to her background with her lute, was more intense then she had ever felt. The dancers, before, simply dancing fleshpots became shamanistic dancers, their motions blurred, and their shadows on the wall were as dark spirits intent on summoning their dark liege. Suddenly, her eyes were drawn to the flame of the torch stand opposite to the stage. Its dancing flame was a center of a universe, a Magnus to Nirn. The flame began to speak in a strange language, it wasn’t words, it was ideas, pure thought in a spirit form.

Wait a minute, she thought. Flame doesn’t speak, it’s just the sugar. The flame disagreed, though not with words. Get a grip, she thought. The flame said she did, though not with words. I’ m ignoring you now, she thought. Go ahead, everyone else does, the flame said, though not with words. Fine then, what do you have to say? She thought.

The flame began to talk of the beginning time. The Mythic Dawn. The convention of the divines, and the creation of nirn, the ehlnofey, the earthbones, Lorkhan and Akatosh, space and time as one. The mundex arena, creation of separates, so that the fragments may see their way to wholeness, achieve heaven by violence!

“Sayuri, you okay?” said Dralsie with a sip of her greef. “You’re staring at something, what? Is it that guy over there?” Dralsie said looking at some Imperial man sitting at a table, seeming to look at Sayuri staring at the flame.

Sayuri began to come too, whatever the sugar was, it had reached its zenith, and she was beginning to come back down to a drunken stupor. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just usually don’t drink this much. Can we go?” she said rubbing her face.

“We just got here! Anssi, take her upstairs, let her wash her face or something, get some fresh air, if you’d like.”


Sayuri stumbled out of her chair, and took the stairs to the lavatory upstairs. She looked at the wellwater in the basin, and was thankful that it was clean, as she splashed water on her face.

“Well, what are you girls doing here?” came the Imperial mans voice from nowhere.

Sayuri spun around in surprise. The leering imperial had a drunken look on his face, and wicked sneer that spoke volumes about what was going through his mind. “Helviane’s doing good branching out to the merfolk like you lovely ladies.”

“Oh no, were not…I mean, we’re just here for the drink,…”

“Now, now, don’t be shy; I saw how you was looking at me. Must be yer first time, relax, relax, look, see I got the gold. I know how this goes, I’ve negotiated before.” He said softly, the smell of brandy thick on his breath.

“I’m not a dancer, I’m not for sale. Get out of here.” Sayuri said firmly, taking a hidden scrib stance.

“Relax, relax, just give it a chance…” he said reaching in for a kiss.

Her fists went up to his chest, followed by an elbow across his chin, ending in a reversal stance that had her flipping him over her body, and having him land headfirst in the rain barrel.

“I will take that gold that you mentioned though, in exchange for sparing your life.” She said as the sobering-up, wet, Imperial stood up, spitting water out of his mouth.

“Anything, just leave me alone you crazy witch!” he said tossing a small leather sack, with the clink of septims into her hands.

Errisa noticed with comical delight as the Imperial man who went up soon after Sayuri, left with a red face, and wet clothes. She smiled back at Sayuri, as the Dark Petal sat at the table tossing the Imperials money on the table commenting that the drinks were on her.

Dralsie and Anssi knew what the man had gone upstairs for, as did Errisa, but she insisted that they let her handle this one alone. They wouldn’t always be there to help.

Ahhh these two latest updates were so very very good! As usual I'll point out my favourite quotes:



Ahhhh....Desele's...so funny, why of course they do serious things!!!! Using kitty sugar is most serious huh? I smiled reading this!



Word of utter wisdom....




Awwww..isn't she adorable? I love her!



So that's how it feels to be high as a chimney on kitty-sugar???? woah.....



This, my friend....is sheer poetry....do I need to say more?

The drinking of the cultists ended soon after, and they moved things over to a local inn, the Wailing Wharf. Sayuri and Errisa pairing up in one room, Dralsie and Anssi in another. The next few days passed uneventfully, with the ritual of daily life filling the space between now and then. Sayuri thought little of her first time. The feelings of guilt, if any, were eclipsed by her feelings of satisfaction at avenging her parents. The only thing she really thought of, was what now?

Genevieve Girarde stepped off the galleon, assisted by one of the crew, which believed they had developed quite a rapport with her over the last few days. Nothing could be further from the truth, as Genevieve was close to no one. Only her glib tongue made any believe that the frozen wasteland of her spirit was warm and inviting. The masks of cordiality and a subtle elitist look to her face matched her manner of dress. It was equal parts lavish and mundane; she stood out, yet blended in. She could be a noblewoman at the center of everyone’s attention one moment, and just another commoner in the crowd the next.

The sleeves and dress of her attire were a dark grey, loose and flowing, with lighter grey embroidery at the edges. Her bodice was wrapped in a dark leather corset, which reached down to her waist, and flowed up to her bosom. Wrapped around her bosom and shoulders was a dark fur adornment, that concealed all but her shoulders and neck. Hanging from that neck, she wore an exquisitely adorned amulet that few but the temple hierarchy, and other cultists would recognize as a relief of Mephala.

At the top of her white swan throat peered the coldly beautiful, angular face, dark of brow and mane, she wore an eccentrically elegant style, consisting of two braids in the back of her hair, and a part in the front that started on the right carrying a shock of hair slightly above her left eye, caressing her cheek as it disappeared to the back.


Her intense green eyes looked around the main square, her mind recalling the encoded package she had received, stating that they would be in Suran, but no more specific. Her mind took in all areas of the equation. Who was most socially dominant in the group? Where would that person likely take them? Why would they be there? They were always surprised by her uncanny ability to track them, and anyone else for that matter, down.

The Head Priestess glided agilely across the square to the Wailing Wharf Inn. Walking into a tavern floor of sailors of various ports of call. The smell of stale greef, and lit haze of tobacco and hackle-lo in the afternoon sun pouring in through grimy windows, setting a stage she had performed numerous times in.

Walking upstairs into the lodgings, she looked at the possible numerous doors, and with a few flicks of her eyes, she immediately rapped lightly on a door that seemed most logical, and within seconds, her equation was complete with the inquisitive, then smiling, face of Errisa.

Genevieve returned her smile placidly, gently pushing the door open further, cooing: “Sister!” followed with a slight embrace, and kisses on both cheeks. Her eyes then fell to the seated form of Sayuri, dressed in a fine white silk shirt, and long flowing red dress, the colors accentuated her skin and hair marvelously, making for a dazzling first impression on Genevieve.

“So, we finally meet little one. I’ve had so much set out for you these many years, some of which you have only begun to see. Welcome, sister, to the Black Rose.” Genevieve began, looking into Sayuris nervous eyes intensely.

This has to be your best work ever. There is a poetry (as someone else pointed out) and a "feel" to this story that is unique. The subject matter is dark, and that darkness is always present, but it does not overwhelm the humanity of the characters- at least, not yet.... Such a pleasure to read.

Evolution of Reaction:

Ohhhh.....Your description of Genevieve was just marvellous! Yes yes...I can see her in my mind....what a true beauty she is. Just like your story..,As Treydog said, this has to be your best work ever....Now for my part I do have a soft spot for Seth...but this my friend.....mmmmm a story to my liking.

I'm so eager to learn what will happen next, the tension is slowly and delicately building up!

Ahh, thanks minque! With everyone so busy IRL I think everyone hates this story. But I do so love your comments.

I've been reading your work for a while mate, I just don't comment on many stories unless I have a question about something or I see something wrong with them.

Genevieve began her walk slowly to Sayuri, letting each step match the drumbeat of the pulse she could sense in her. She sat down on the bed next to Sayuri, her arm extended around her shoulder, and the emerald eyes of the High Priestess, met the sapphire eyes of the initiate.

Sayuri’s nervous mind felt as though it were a revenant of death that sat down next to her. The weight of her initiator pressing down on the mattress seemed unnatural, as though she somehow were lighter than a feather. This Breton was a true beauty, augmented with the subtle pigments of her expert face artistry; she was the embodiment of murder, sex, and secrets. Sayuri knew that while she liked men, she still felt an inkling of longing for the woman, to be her, to possess her. It was a feeling reminiscent of when she had first met her sister, Errisa. Desiring the darkness that threatened to swallow her innocence and soul. She had not given in easily, and dreaded, yet wanted this power that was shown to her.

“Your way has not been easy, I know. Before you has been set a web, each thread woven to your heart, your mind. Your very psyche, while conflicted, was set to this first conclusion.” She began, pressing a long, thin finger above Sayuri’s left breast, over her heart.

Then a malicious smile crept across Genevieve’s face. “And spinning webs is what we do, sister. For the Great Daedra herself is a body of contradictions. She is also a he. She is vain, yet she is humble. She is cruel, yet she is not without her kindness.”

Then her true emotionless façade broke through. ”But don’t think for one second that you’ve entered into an order that cares about your crying little emotions, weakness is not tolerated in any form. Your first time was nothing more than to please Mephala, to take your vengeance through passionate murder, sacrificing your virginity to your darker self, to bring you closer to us. Now you will serve, in your own way.”

lol - evolution of emoticons


QUOTE

It's all coming out here - from now on she will be known as Minque the minx


I hated the beginning - yukky sad little self-pitying thing. W/out the guts to act on her own initiative and for her own beliefs, or so it seemed. But she surprised me ... and the inducement to execute the killer of her parents is a positive.

There is a lot of truth here, and I see a lot of hard work to come. Keep it up mate.


Generally I've withstood the itch to tell people about this that or the other typo, but your last installment ends with a very confusing sentance:
that I just do not understand.

It seems that what you intended was a contrast of statements as in: 'Now you that your needs have been satisfied you will employ your unique tastes, style and intuitions at Mephala's leasure.' Though perhaps you were seeking a darker and more brutal 'feel' than that?

Yes, the statement was intended to be confusing. I had to spend several minutes thinking about it. This piece is proving to be far more challenging than I thought, as I'm not just trying to write a story about an assassin who 'kills in the name of Mephala' I'm trying to write about a girl who discovers herself in Mephalas Cult.

Mephala herself is perhaps the most ambiguous Daedra Prince, in spite of her almost forward nature, the closer one gets, the harder she is to understand. On the one hand shes demanding soft 'stereotypical' femininity from her cultists, on the other hand she demands that they feel nothing. A series of contradictions tht walk hand in hand, that is Mephala, and her followers.

And yes, her first target was selected for just that reason, they made her on offer that she could not refuse.

Genevieve stood up, and gave Errisa a knowing nod.

“Get up, Sister. It’s high time we departed.” The Altmer motioned to Sayuri.

The dark flower of the black rose, all five petals, reunited in a rare occurrence of birthing a new petal. From Suran they made there way north, over the mountains into the wilds of the Molag Amur region past the towering skeleton of the Bal Ur shrine, parting slightly northeast they traveled to a nondescript ash-covered hill.

Making some motions before it, Genevieve hands commanded forth a crackling mystic force that dispelled an illusion of a boulder.

“A clever simulacrum from Errisa no less. I do love the Telvanni sometimes.” Said Genevieve heading towards the door that had been revealed, it was the sideways oval that the demented architects of daedric shrines had somehow managed to build. Without the exterior daedric shrine.

Entry into a dark stairwell was met with a few moments of flint and stone clicking together, producing sparks that finally met with the torch, producing flames that slowly ate the chemical into a bright flame. The light producing a flickering luminance that set shadows into a play of up and down.

The light also produced a truly horrific sight that set Sayuri into a shrieking fright. The pale white skin of a womans torso and head, and dead white, pupil-less eyes gazed upon the five. Her long white hair was in crest on her head. The rest of her body was not human at all, rather it was eight red and black legs, and huge abdomen of a spider.

Sayuri fell into shock, hearing the horrible screams that seemed to emanate from around her, her vision blurred, but still she gazed into those dead eyes. The noise emanating from all around her.

She finally came back to her senses with two sharp slaps from Errisa. The golden hue of her skin contrasting sharply with the dead pale skin of the spider daedra, who was now producing those shrieks. With a few moments time, she realized that those shrieks were long, and short, and had precise patterns to them. It was talking, and strangely enough, Genevieve seemed to understand her, and speak with her, in Cyrodiilic.

“Get up, and stop embarrassing us! This is the shrines guardian! You’re lucky she recognizes Genevieve! Otherwise she would have eaten you by now, acting like a common grave robber!” Errisa whispered harshly into Sayuri’s ear, and clasping a strong hand around her arm, pulling her up.

The spider daedra looked at Sayuri again, and back at Genevieve, who was explaining that she was the newest member, the spider woman seemed to give a cold acknowledgement, and turned to the stairwell plodding down with inhuman speed into the shadowy turn.

Genevieve turned to Sayuri, her dead eyes set on hers, her dead expression intimidating the little Bosmer. “Act like that again, and I’ll let her eat you like she asked to. Now enough of this dallying; get down to the shrine, Mephala wants to meet her new spider…”

boo!

Sayuri took the lead, nervously looking at the grey-green walls and steps that made up the foreboding place, the rest of the clan following close behind. Errisa finally broke the silence, her lilting voice echoing off the ancient walls, spinning in with the torch’s inconstant flicker, created an atmosphere of a bard telling a yarn at a tavern at night.

“This shrine was once known as Erustadammus. Built as high and glorious as any other shrine, it, much like the shrine to Boethia, fell into disrepair and misuse with the ascent of the Tribunal in the first era, before it all but disappeared.”

”When the Morag Tong swore fealty to Vivec-who-is-Mephala, and was granted the right to continue worship to his anticipation directly, the Black Rose wasted no time in securing that last known location to worshipping Mephala. Granted special permission by the temple, the Morag Tong, and we, the splinter now have sole access and ownership of it. Not that anyone would necessarily want to come out all this way, only on her holy day, the 13th of Frost Fall, or in times of choosing a new petal, or initiating a new one do we deign to ask her presence.”

Sayuri blinked. “So this is where I was chosen?”

Errisa looked at her incredulously. “Of course.”

The long, winding descent finally ended into a large chamber with many ember-red glowing torch-chandeliers released a mist that slowly fell in a dead dance to the floor, blanketing the stone tile, making it completely unseen.

To the other end of the chamber, stood the massive and impressive statue of Mephala. Sayuri swallowed, almost expecting the fearsome visage would come to life and give judgment to her soul.

The head was a woman’s with fierce eyes that were inlayed with a coppery metal, that in the light flickered with a semblance of life. Her headdress was a strange style that she couldn’t place in cultural terms. Her mouth was opened revealing small fangs, her tongue was hanging from the open orifice ending just below her chin.

Around her neck she wore a necklace of skulls that rested against the massive breasts, her two upper arms were extended outwards, one clutched a dagger in the fist, and the other was a palm offered to the ceiling and heavens. Her two lower arms were clutched together in front of her abdomen. The right leg was extended upwards to the side, and bent at the knee, so that she stood on her left leg, revealing the androgynous aspect of the Daedra, both a man and a woman’s birthing tools. ‘Grossly exaggerated’ as the old texts wrote of, yet so rarely seen since the time of the Chimer in the first era, when the tribunal and the Dunmer first appeared in Resdayn.

“The hands speak of her dualities-in-one. The upper hands outstretch welcoming all to the mother, while the lower ones clasp, holding onto all those who hold her. One upper arm offers a dagger, while one shows a hand offering peace. But the palm hides the true intent of the dagger. And the outstretched arms offering herself, is met with the ambiguity of her sphere, the inability of the mortal mind to understand her, or her secrets.” Genevieve started.

“I could go on for weeks, and none of what is being shown here could begin to make any sense.”

“One of those represents the Morag Tong, and the other represents us?” Sayuri asked pointing to the depiction between the idols legs.

Genevieve looked up and smiled, “I suppose they do. And yet, not, and yet, many other things at the same time. Welcome to your mother/father’s shrine, priestess.”

Oh my, I can imsgine how scary all this is for Sayuri! So innocent..ahem..yes yes she is! Anyway this is getting better and better, I myself hates spiders but they also thrill me somehow so I'm reading this with a peculiar feeling in my gut. Yet it's fascinating and I can't wait for the continuation.

Way to go, Blackie!

The Ritual of the Mother began, and dark robes were adorned. Like beings of light cloaking themselves with garbs of shadows, Sayuri saw herself and the others disappear into the low lighting of the shrine. She and Errisa held torches aloft, whilst Dralsie of Anssi began playing a slow beat on a drum and a small bell. Errisa and the other three began a slow chant the reverberated off the walls even in the low tones they used.

Genevieve took to the altar, kneeling before the effigy of Mephala. Her arms seemed to follow the motions of the statue, arms being outstretched, and then closed. She could not see her face, but Sayuri wondered if she were sticking her tongue out as well.

Uncertain of the time this would take, Sayuri used her musical training to learn the chant, able to keep up masterfully with the cadence and rhythm. Eventually, she was taken to a place between worlds. She still felt the weight of this world, but the mist, the lighting and the constant repetitive chanting seemed to take her to a place outside her body. She felt the cavernous enormity of the forgotten shrine. Than the ash-grey of the rock above it.

“The night sky is Oblivion, Sayuri. When you look out into the stars, you are seeing Aetherius poking through like a ragged blanket trying to hide the sun.”said Bratheru Oran, one night when she was still very small, on a ledge in Vivec.

“So it’s like we are between the gods and the daedra?”

“Something like that. But Gods, Daedra, Tribunal, Saints. Whatever. The only thing that is real, Sayuri. Is right here, right now. This place, this moment in time. The past is gone, the future merely a concept. Mages work with concepts, but they take raw energy, channel it through an idea, and make it real.”

“So when I made the fishing rod, I was a mage?”

Bratheru smiled. “Yes, little one. You were a mage. You can do anything you set your mind too. Don’t ever forget that.”

Her mind returned to the present. The chanting was still going on, and in a corner of the ceiling, Sayuri saw for the first time the silver sliver reflection of webs, they seemed to be moving. The shrines guardian had her own home it seemed, and it looked to be massive. The shifting of the daedras massive weight had caused the gossamer threads to dance in the low lighting of the shrine.

When Sayuri looked down, she saw what was causing the daedras excitement. Her creator was here.The mortal form of her at least.

Where Genevieve once knelt, a monstrosity now stood. Grey eyes with no pupils stared directly at her. A long black tongue hung from the sinister open grin, fingers that had once been tan and lithe were elongated with talons, and were the color of ebony. Sayuri screamed with the terror that can come only from ones soul. But this time she did so silently.

One by one, the cultists approached the Mother. Making offerings of respect as they bowed to one knee, and placed their foreheads on her hand. Sayuri did as they did, feeling none of the reverence the others seemed to show. The creature seemed to sense this as it chuckled, and ran a finger through her hair. The thick robe seemed to hide the shudder that ran through her.

Ohhh.....eerie! I promise I saw Mephala for my inner sight!



I also would have!

S.G.M.......I want more!

Sayuri returned to her position, staring with apprehension at the creature as it began to speak.

”Daughters. We welcome a new member to our fold, blessings on you Sayuri. You have performed my tasks for you well. “ The creatures voice was both male and female, like two poets reciting prose in perfect harmony.

”Your hate, the blood, the tryst. It was all delectable. Now, I have a new task for you. Go to the city that was your home. There you will find a man in your house. You will know him, as he will know you. He seeks to upset the plans of a deceiver with deception, and I am pleased. Assist him. Approach me once more, so that I may bequeath you with a token that might assist you as well.

She did as the creature bade, and stepped closer to the abomination. The hands falling on her shoulders, filling her with revulsion, the eyes seeing into her very soul it seemed.

”Take this ring, mortal. So that it may deepen the shadows in which you hide.” The Mother said as she dropped a silver band encrusted with topaz, and engraved with exquisite designs.

The face then became twisted, pain showing visibly through its expression, the features of the possession began to fade and the body of Genvieve fell to the floor in a heap.

A few hours later when Genevieve recovered, her pale, sweaty skin reflected the torchlight that Anssi held, as Dralsie and Errisa tended to her with spells and potions. Sayuri twirled the ring that the Mother had dropped into her hand. Genevieve’s eyes glinted with recognition, and a slight smile.

“She has given you the ring of surroundings. You should feel quite proud; she wants you to succeed in her latest scheme. I held that ring once, as did Errisa.”

”What is its purpose?” Sayuri asked.

“It is an enchanted ring. Quite useful to people like us. Literally a ring of surroundings, it’s to blend into your environment, move around unseen, with a spell stronger then mere invisibility, sudden movements, and speech does not dispel its effects. What did she say?”

“That I was to meet a man that was in my house. She is pleased with him and his deceptions it would seem, and I am to assist.”


“Than it is time you acted as a full member, Mephala may use riddles sometimes, but its just to move a piece in her direction. Speak to your old caretaker. And watch.”

“Watch what?”

”Watch Mephala’s scheme unwrap itself before you. Damn it, little girl! How well did Mephala choose her newest priestess? You are as free to interpret and enact her desires as I am!!” Genevieve yelled, and then fell back to her stone bed, her hand going up to her head.

“She needs rest, as well as the rest of us do. Sleep now, Sayuri, we will depart this place in the morning.” Dralsie said amiably to Sayuri.

She nodded, and lay down on the stone floor, using her thick robe as both bedding, and blanket.
Thinking to herself that it was so cold in here, and wondering why that would be in the middle of Molag Amur.

After an hour or so of watching Genevieve’s slow, steady breathing, she felt the blackness swallow her consciousness, and she drifted off into a world of shadows, dancing firelight, and nightmares.

Ahh the ring of surroundings..hmmm sweet! I wonder who that man is...the one in her house, if I was Sauyri I'd watch out. See I don't trust strange men coming to my house just llike this...

So watch it Sauyri! And thanks Blackie for a great story

She was given a little bit of gold, and told what direction to head out to. Alone. Sayuri thought she saw a look of pity, maybe even pride, in Errisa’s eyes. But she knew her mentor well enough that she didn’t really have emotions, not really. Even if she did, she wouldn’t be stupid enough to show them in front of Genevieve. There were no long goodbyes, or presents other than what Sayuri was given by the Mother.

The sun rarely shone in the Ashlands, even on the edge of them here, so close to Suran. But these were one of those rare moments. Moments when graduation was complete, and knowledge instilled produced the first feelings of freedom in a long time in pretty little Bosmer assassin.

An assassin? Or cultist? Maybe a priestess? Who am I? The question rang in Sayuri’s head the whole way back to Vivec. Vivec. Matron. Patron. Would they still be there? She was forbidden from seeing them, from anything she valued in her old life. Maybe they would not recognize her. She was trained to not stand out anymore. To blend in, disappear. Stand out when she needed too.

She had to find the man in her house though, and here she was sent. Bratheru Oran? Her former patron? It didn’t quite make sense, this talk of Vivec and houses, and the fact that her home over the last three years had been a medium-sized telvanni mushroom.

She could use a drink though, and hadn’t been quite old enough to visit the Elven Nations Cornerclub when she lived there. She intended to amend that with her arrival. Give some thought to the entire matter being set out before her.

Poor girl...now she's a bit confused, right? My thoughts are with her and I do wish her all the luck to find out about what's expected from her.

More more mooooooooooooooooore!