Rusty ram

His Majesty Lord Dagoth

Wips!!

@dirty-bosmer thank you for tagging!! Sorry im a bit tired now ahaha

Now i working with this Voryn. I mix watercolors and pencils

Also i taggeg no pressure!! @darcxaosit @garzzum @priafey @stellarsightz @ulanxxxs @disa-point and who wants!!

Blood on the snow (finally finished!)

My small work about Cicero's past as assassin of Dark Brotherhood

The cold weather had fallen on Cyrodiil like a spring rainstorm. This year, they were greeted by an unfriendly fall, ruining their crops and their last hopes of acquiring the apple cider that that sweet farmer's daughter was selling. But not about that.

Despite the early days of early winter, the remotest and coldest part of Sirodiil Bruma, had long since been plunged into the darkness of cold nights, and smoke billowed across the ground, probably trying to find a last drop of warmth. But he knew little about the farming traditions and sayings of the old nords, he was just guessing at things as his horse went leisurely on his way. Things had been bad for a month or maybe a year since their ranks began to weaken, and more and more brothers and sisters were dying under the arrows of enemies and the onslaught of war, which, by the way, they did not have to take part in. But who knows? Maybe the father of terror himself wants it that way.

The long columns of the forest stretched behind him as if they were five by five, the crowns of the old firs knew some secret, knew everyone who entered here. The forest tried to frighten the traveler, but he was unaware of the fact that the traveler himself exudes death, his footsteps are as hungry and silent as the first snow, and with his dagger he cuts not human threads of fate, but parchment.

Cicero was assigned to find the head of the bandits, who was hiding in the woods with his gang. In general, the customer did not have any requests, it was revenge for the ruined honor of another maiden, quite familiar plot, every second contract, which usually sent less experienced killers.

But now the affairs of the once powerful organization were going nowhere clear. The Listener was dead, which meant there was no one else to convey the will of their dead mistress. The Dark Brotherhood was cracking at the seams, cracking from the inside out, and when it would fall apart was only a matter of time, maybe a couple months. Cicero didn't want to think about such a thing, but with each contract he realized that either it was the end, or it was another ordeal after which their family would rise again. The man could no longer remember when he had taken something so humiliating…but turning his nose up at any chance to make money he simply couldn't.

“Damn the frost, O Sithis,” he muttered, adjusting his cheap, tattered cloak. “Let murder bring us glory at least, I don't care about the money! I can't stand the cold of the asylum anymore…I'll go to the brothel, yes definitely, I deserve it!” the assassin grinned to himself as he imagined his rest after this three day journey to the very north of the province. It had long been common knowledge that Cicero was not a fan of the cold! Even though Bruma Refuge was his ancestral nest, the place where he grew up, he clearly wouldn't want to return to the hum of harsh northerners and eternal frost.

But getting back to the contract, it had long been common knowledge that bandits hid either in ruined forts and castles, or in forests and caves, or preferably all at once. The man remembered how, in his youth, he and his friends had always gone into old forts on a dare, had escaped from ghosts a couple of times, had had to take an arrow from his shoulder a couple of times, and the penultimate time the old Listener had thrown boiling water on them. The head of the gang was called Broken Fang, and though the orc was awe-inspiring to any innkeeper, he had little intelligence, so his own men turned him over to the guards and other mercenaries, who were not particularly eager to talk to the stubborn orc. Cicero himself did not fully understand how he could be so confident, given that the beast was really strong. But as it turned out, Fang's own men were planning to get rid of him. He was on his way to a meeting place with a maiden who had something to give him, because Cicero did not plan to beat the orc directly, the best and oldest known way was to poison him.

A raven flew among the snowy branches, announcing with its loud cawing that an uninvited guest had arrived in the forest. The imp looked up disgruntledly for the bird, but found nothing but a haughty blue sky that threatened him with its cold. From his personal observations, it was the colder months that could be such a sky, clear as first blood but deceptive as shadows.

As he traveled on, he did not notice the cold expanse, the branches were always grabbing at his cloak, to which he only sighed unhappily. Now this trip seemed to him a distraction from what was happening in the dark family. Before, the silence of the cold walls of the asylum had sounds, there were echoes of training and old legends, the idea that the spokesmen from the stories walked here gave him hope that he could be one himself. But now, day after day, all he saw was discouragement, and while there were still plenty of those, there was hope.

But the mediator for the contract did not appear an hour or two later. Cicero was not a fan of waiting, he liked to do things quickly, without too much movement or fiddling. Now, he was nowhere to be found and the matter seemed to be irrevocably at an impasse.

“Khajiit, are you tricking me?” he pleaded to himself as he got off his horse. Standing here and freezing there was no point in standing here and freezing, even if the traitor had chickened out and decided to disappear, it didn't mean one had to give up everything now. He would kill him, and the e Night Mother would be happy for her son's success.

There was only one way to go now, it was getting dark, and he had to get to his destination faster, so without a moment's hesitation he moved towards the walls of the once old bastion. No, the camp was much farther away, the walls of the once great fortress had been a stronghold for traders and soldiers in the past, but now it was a ghost of the past, too distant. Brick, already shattered and crumbling, stung the feet of leather boots as the snow began to cover the road. The silence of the forest held a growing menace, the weather was deteriorating, this picture was like a trap closing its sharp tips towards the traveler, but it was an illusion, a ruse. Cicero does not smile, he is an experienced assassin and he is not young anymore, maybe it is a disadvantage, he could not and did not want to enjoy these snowy views, the branches, the snow on which was a shroud.

He felt as if someone was watching him. Through the white veil, the tangled trunks of spruce trees and the ledges of low hills, someone's heavy gaze followed him all the way. Someone's eyes, like a hungry wolf, were fixed on his back and ready to tear out his spine.

A raid? A setup after all? Or had the imperial soldiers gotten on the trail of a hapless member of the dying Dark Brotherhood? Cicero though he was cocky, even caustically arrogant at times, but over the years feelings of paranoia had also taken their toll, he's a child of the shadows, he's hiding to strike, so he really couldn't be wrong. And besides, who would think of prying into him in the first place? Certainly not a pickpocket, they just don't live here! He looked around frantically. There was nothing here. He must have taken it too seriously.

A branch crunched behind him, and the man snatched up his dagger and deftly stabbed the hilt into the soft body. A couple drops of scarlet blood immediately appeared on the snow, and a figure in a dark robe fell at his feet. The man wrapped in the cloak wanted to say something, but Cicero sealed him into the tree with all his might, making its trunk shudder, or the body of his pursuer.

The assassin was staring at him with a pair of blue eyes that darted back and forth, but his grip was firm and the man was too weak to fight him off. It was a boy of about fifteen, or maybe older, and his haggard face was a mess of healed and not so healed scars.

Apparently taking advantage of the man's confusion, the boy lunged forward and hit him with his forehead. Cicero's eyes went black from the blow.

-You son of a bitch! - he roared, not expecting such strength from this kid.

-I'm from Rashida,” the young man growled back, wiping away the blood. - Fang is dead.

Cicero stared at him dumbfounded as he staggered backward.

“Holy shit now…how is that dead? What the fuck is that?” the man scolded.

-Bastard…” he spat out and pointed the dagger at him. The boy jerked, but then he postured and glared at the assassin, -“Are you kidding me?

-No,” -he said, ‘we killed him today,’ he said in a muffled voice, ”I don't know what business you had with him, but he's dead now, choking on his own blood.

That the imp was shocked is not to say anything! After all, it's okay to lie to the customer, but on the other hand, what a shame! A disgrace to his career, a disgrace to his dark mother! He was overtaken by some stupid bandits.

-Why did they leave you behind? Were they stiffed for money? - Cicero said wryly, hiding his disappointment and confusion.

He was stared back by blue eyes, which burned him at the slightest movement. Though, if this wonder had been following him the whole way, his stealth talents weren't bad at all. Fuck it, if this little psycho wasn't lying, then we'd have to check it out.

Sighing heavily, and searching his pockets for gold, he tossed three coins directly onto the snow.

-Take me here.

The boy looked indifferently at the coins that fell at his feet and put his foot down and stomped on one of them. Then, looking at the man with his disfigured face, he turned toward the camp and silently walked there.

“Doing me a favor?” the man marveled to himself, and followed the boy, holding his blade at the ready. What should he do now? Should he finish the boy off? Snow was falling behind them, softly laying on their footprints, gradually covering them.

TES Crushes

Which NPCs in TES (all games included!) do you crush on, and why? They don't have to be marriage candidates (in vanilla), just people you find yourself blushing around. Hell, it could be a Deadric Prince if that's what you're into. Name them and say what about them you find appealing! Then feel free to tag a friend or two!

@dirty-bosmer thank you sm!!

Also i tagged @darcxaosit @ulanxxxs @priafey @stellarsightz @azures-grace @disa-point and all who wants!!

Hm..I can say that I'm a monogamous person and, to the best of my mindset, I like quite a few characters in TES.😅 So it will be a small list

1. Cicero!!! He is always a number one, even though I loved Zevran so much. Cicero came to me in a hard times. And he is my idol i think. I dyed my hair to match my hair color, and painted a lot with it (however, I still do!!) Moreover, it was about him that I published my first works. So there are a lot of reasons why i love him sm:3

Next, i think it would be Voryn. But i think it is not a crush, i just like this characters.

Voryn is impressive..l love his lore and morrowind vibes in all. So he is a good villain.

Lucien? I dont know what i can said about him. The same like Voryn. He lead an old tradions and serves for his Dark family

And...i think it may be a Sotha Sil. Cmon, he is create Clock work city. And to be honest he looks nice and cute.

Alright, may boring a bit..

A small wips. Sorry again, but my old traume kills me every time when i think about it..

As always with bad mood