“Thank you, ItsRainingNeon for your fifty-dollar donation,” StoutZulu said as he glanced over at the second monitor. He’d been playing for about a half hour at this point, with about twenty minutes of that being the character-building section, and he was about to reveal his biggest secret in playing Skyrim. “I love your cosplay, and yes, I’d definitely love to see you cosplay Syrise on your OnlyFans. That would literally make my life. But, let me get her gear on first. While it’d be awesome to see you in that sailor’s tunic, I’m sure the semi-custom gear I’ve got lined up for her will look much better…
“And, before any of you think that’s weird, it’s not like one of those daedric bikini things,” StoutZulu said, laughing at his own joke. “It’s a variant on the Crimson Archer armor, and there are no textural changes to it, just some custom enchantments I made.”
He stops for a moment and fetches a deep theatrical sig. “Now, I’ve got a confession to make to you guys—oh thanks for that two-hundred-dollar donation ESO! That’s absolutely awesome! I love your content man, and had no idea you watched Minecraft YouTubers—but, back on that confession. I’m sure you guys know I play Minecraft in creative mode almost exclusively, and when I do play survival mode, I’ve got cheats enabled… except for the Genesis SMP stuff. Well, my playstyle in games like Skyrim isn’t all that different. Give me access to the console or mods and I will abuse the…wait saying that might get the stream demonetized. Anyway, I abuse the crap out of this level of access to the game’s insides. Maybe one day I’ll do a stream or Let’s Play series from my ancient 360 where I’ll have to play the game legit, but at the moment I’m totally on PC and have access to all of that. That being said, I’ll tell you more about the items”—he stresses the word— “after I acquire them in game. I believe I’ve left Syrise hanging long enough.”
With that statement, StoutZulu hits the tab key and dives back into the world of Skyrim.
***
After a strange blank in her mind, Syrise kicks back into motion, literally, as she uses the motion of the kick to dive back under the water and push herself back out into the corridor. She closes on the point where the alchemist fire is raging, and the temperature of the water quickly becomes unbearable. With another short burst of Reynos’ Fins, she’s down the hall and back into the near freezing water. She cuts around a corner and up a flight of stairs.
Maybe thankfully, maybe not, the stairs lead her up out of the water, and on the side of things she wasn’t thankful for was the alchemist fire. One floor down she had to worry about it cooking her, up here…
Up here it was an inferno which had eaten through the ceiling of the lower floor and was now spilling out into the hallway with green flames licking up the sides of the walls, tasting the soft flesh boards and timbers, and liking it enough to feast. There was also the issue of the smoke rising form the flames in what would no doubt soon be a great black column visible from the Shrine of Azura. With the potion still coursing through her veins breathing underwater was no problem. Such a potion didn’t exist for smoke, and if it did, she had no way of acquiring it in the amount of time she had remaining on the ship.
There was no going back down to the lower deck and finding another way around the flames. The way the ship was constructed the only flight of stairs connecting these decks was behind her. That wasn’t the case with the next deck down and the cargo hold, a flight of stairs at each end of the ship resoled that issue. For a second or so, she considered giving it time and letting the ship drop further beneath the waves, but… this was alchemist fire.
The flames hardly cared if they were wet or not, and just because the ship dropped into the deep, they would burn until they’d had all the food they could devour.
Syrsie took a deep breath and mentally braced herself for what she was about to do. Some small portion of time had passed, not enough to fully restore her reserves, but probably enough to get her through the flames. She summoned the spell to each hand and felt it’s chill bite deep into her bones. She took a second deep breath, regretted it instantly, as the thick smoke tried to wheedle its way in, then summoned all her magical might and dropped the frost cloak around her. With zero hesitation, she switched spells, going from the frost cloak to another Alteration spell. This one called Longstride, the land bound version of Reynos’ Fins. As soon as the spell was at hand, she gave what reserves remained and took off at a sprint.
Reaching the flames, she saw the gaping maw to the floor below, and the shattered, blackened, and blasted timbers which had created an impromptu pit trap in her way. At the last possible second, as she felt the boards give way beneath her feet, she leapt, and sailed through fire and flame. Longstride did nothing without her feet on the ground, but her momentum carried her across the pit.
She hung in the air for a heartbeat, and questioned if she’d ever have another, then hit the opposite side. Her ankle twisted on impact, and with Longstride still engaged, she pitched forward with the speed of a horse at full gallop. Her magicka reserves burned out, dismissing the spell without having to put any thought into it, and centuries of traversing the verdant forests of Valenwood had taught her how to take a fall. On instinct alone, she pulled her shoulder and neck in as she curved her back. Her shoulder made contact first, as she intended, and she was able to use the inward curve as she curled into a ball to guide her. Knowing her ankle wouldn’t support the sudden impact and kip up onto her feet, she instead chose to drive her momentum to a total stop. She slammed her good foot, and the hand opposite the should she impacted with, onto the wooden flooring with all the strength she could muster and gave a ki-aih cry to drive the extra air from her lungs.
She stopped dead.
Two heartbeats passed, which was all the time she had, and was up and moving down the corridor before the flames had a chance to claim her. It took every ounce of her willpower to make her ankle work the way she needed it too. She knew she’d pay for it with greater pain later, but she didn’t have the time for faulty body parts at the moment.
With one hand she reached out and grabbed hold of the wall, thankfully the floor here was slick with old wax and the water rising from below froze beneath her frost cloak, and she was able to twist herself into a spin and bound up the steps without any lost momentum.
A blink and she was at the top, facing the door right into the captain’s room. Not a thought was given to whether the door was locked or not. If it was, she was the key. She tucked her shoulder again, angling herself just right, and fired Longstride for the tenth-of-a-second she could manage. The door, even with its thick planks and iron banding, was no barrier to her. She burst through, sending splinters and wooden shrapnel flying. At the same instant she dropped into a roll and diverted her momentum once more, coming to a sliding stop right before the captain’s desk.
Low and behold who she should find there as well. The captain, dressed in his fine clothes, meant for a noble’s court, with his tricorn perched upon his brow, and his body bent over a chest easily as big as his desk. One filled with an emperor’s ransom worth of loot.
The captain looked back at her, his face paling as he did. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
***
“Oh damn! Holy fucking hell!” StoutZulu cried out, completely forgetting about possible demonetization. “There’s only a three percent chance of the captain being here when you come to claim the loot. By the Divines, we’ve got a boss battle on our hands.”
His excitement was at its peak, but as a streamer there were still things he needed to do, and at that exact moment a donation chime came, and the Ender Dragon flew across the corner of his screen. A passing thought dashed through his mind, like he should replace the Ender Dragon with Alduin, at least for his Elder Scrolls streams.
“Hey Azura, thanks so much for the fifty-dollar donation. If you didn’t catch it, she said: ‘you better beat that pirate captain’s ass!” StoutZulu grins. “Since you commanded it, my lady of the dusk and dawn, I will beat this pirate trash in your name. Or ‘forgive me Azura’ will be spoken with my final breath.”
StoutZulu hits tab and goes back into the game, ready to kick the shit out of whoever was in Syrise’s way.
***
“Bullshit,” Syrise said as she stared at the older man. She had no magicka, no armor, and was armed with only an iron dagger. Her frost cloak had run out as she made the turn and charge up the steps. With what was in the chest this would be an unwinnable fight. If he was given time to take any of its goods.
She considered her hypocrisy for a split second, as she’d come here to do the exact same thing. Maybe… Maybe that could give her the edge though, if she played her cards just right.
Then there was the alchemist’s fire to consider. It would be working its way up to them, and the longer this took, the less time she had to escape. The smoke was already beginning to worm its way up the staircase.
If ever there was a time, she was glad she was good at Three Dragon Ante, this was it. It was time to play her bluff.
“Those artifacts are meant for the museum in Solitude,” she said, her voice cold and calculating. “Just how much coin were you offered to steal them?”
The captain smiled as he dropped his hand to the chest, his eyes took on a sparkle as he looked down at them. It was then Syrise realized she had another card in play. One the captain knew nothing about. After all, none of the windows in the captain’s quarters looked out onto the foredeck. Only out the back of the ship. He knew nothing of the blaze eating the vessel from the inside out.
“A fortune,” he said after a moment. “More than you could ever imagine. More than you would ever get from the pockets of a museum curator.”
“I don’t know,” Syrise said, beginning her calculated moves. She began a slow orbit around the desk, walking along the opposite side from where the captain stood. “I can imagine quite a lot.”
The captain’s lips twitched, starting a smile, but the expression was so fast only someone who knew to look for it would ever see it. A tell, one she’d learned from years of sitting across a card table from this man.
“Can you imagine enough to buy a lordship in High Rock? A kingdom and a hill all to yourself?”
Syrise let out a low whistle.
“That’s quite a lot of coin.” Her eyes flicked to the shattered door and back, to fast for a human’s eyes to see. She had to judge how long she had before the flames were at the foot of the stairs. Her orbit had her behind the desk now. She reached out and touched the richly upholstered high-backed chair. She’d always imagined he thought of it as a throne. Now the thought was all but confirmed.
Now, she was within about five feet of the captain, almost able to reach out and touch him. It appeared no thought of danger, or betrayal, had crossed his mind. He hadn’t gone for any of the artifacts yet.
“A kingdom, eh?” she continued. “I was going to ask if it was worth the destruction of your ship. Now…” she paused theatrically. “Now, I see it is.”
“We could share it,” he said, just as she knew he would, and a lecherous grin spread across his face. He was within arm’s reach now and hadn’t noticed her arm snaking around behind her back. Nor had he heard the silent whisper of steel as it drew free of its leather sheath.
“Afterall, every king needs a queen,” the captain finished.
Syrise reached out with her free hand to touch him and caressed his face. “Is that a proposal?” she asked, then sealed the deal. “My king?”
The smile spreading across his face was genuine, and he knew nothing. Not until the dagger pierced his fine clothes and split through his flesh deep enough to find a kidney. The captain gasped and jerked forward, curling in on himself to try and protect his vitals too late.
“I’m sorry,” Syrise said with a pout. She kicked out and drove the captain back. He slammed into a bookcase, jerked forward again, and fumbled for his cutlass. In that instant, Syrise was on him. One hand grabbing his collar and drawing him close, the other on his shoulder, preparing.
“You’re not wearing an amulet of Mara,” Syrise said. Tightening her grip on his shoulder, she released his collar and spun him towards the door. Another kick and he was out it with no time to catch his feet before tumbling down the steps. Tumbling right down into the waiting flames, which consumed him in a howl of rage. He barely had time to scream.
“And, I’m not the type to share,” Syrise said to the burning corpse.
All time was up though, and she spun on her heel, right back to the chest of artifacts. Conveniently enough the captain had bundled them all into a decent sized satchel. She knew it was an Endless Bag, called a Bag of Holding in some worlds, and all she had to do was grab the straps as she ran for the windows. She had a single moments worth of an epiphany and explanation. A realization, of sorts, that blind luck had saved her life, and she thanked Nocturnal for it. The reason the captain hadn’t gone for a weapon and run her through was because of the Endless Bag. He couldn’t have gotten to them in time. Syrsie Swiftblade smiled as she threw herself through the window and into the icy waters waiting for her.
As she swam to shore, she thought of just how happy she was the captain sucked at Three Dragon Ante.
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