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Oblivion Dot Com - Vol. 1 & 2
Cyrodil 10th Era.......
Rain lashed the thick, rough surface of the window pane as Quiixto sat in the darkness, his face illuminated by the sprawling lines of code that slowed within the borders of his screen. He tapped softly at the illuminated keys of his laptop and used the tracking pad to traverse the text in quick, rodent-like movements. Behind him on the bed, the tousled hair of a blonde Nord woman caressed the slightly grimy fabric of the pillowcases.
Quii stopped for a second and stretched languidly, a small click sounded from his neck and his shadowed eyes took in the information presented before him. The Nordic woman stretched, seemingly in response to his own movements, the thin fabric of one of his t-shirts sheathed the top half of a statuesque frame as she moved beneath the sheets.
“Come back to bed won’t you love?” She murmured in her thick accent, the words uttered in that rhythmic lilting tone that Nords had.
“Soon” he promised, and then the Imperial hacker turned back to his work.
Removing his attention from the physical distraction behind him, the hacker clicked again and waited patiently as the internal processors of the machine hummed quietly through their sub-routines. After what seemed an eternity, a small chime sounded and the Imperial knew that he had been successful. The processors seemed to whine more quickly in anticipation and suddenly a small icon indicated that the data transfer had commenced. The Orsimer who had paid for this contract was going to be more than pleased with Quii’s work this evening. Finishing up and with the information safely stored on a thumb drive, the Imperial yanked it from the USB slot and stored it in a secretive pocket of his knapsack. Crawling back into the bed, his lips found hers in the dark.
Dawn transformed the litter strewn alleys of the waterfront district of the Imperial City into a place of wonder. The otherwise grimy facades of derelict buildings were imbued in the soft glow of Tamriel’s sun and as Quii exited the dirty tenement that he had called home for the past few months, he whistled under his breath. The information he had collected last night was going to keep him well stocked in Seps until at least the middle of next year. Maybe he could even get away to the Illiac Bay, leave all of this behind. But he had to deliver it first. The address he had been given for the drop was The R@ncid Kh@jiit, a bar that was known more for unexplained disappearances than it was for its band lineup. Lighting a Skooma joint to take the edge off, Quiixto thrust his fingerless gloved hands deep into the pockets of his black duster and drew a deep breath, then exhaled it in a thick cloud of blue smoke. The sun picked out the details of the dull green eye that had been stitched inelegantly onto its back as he disappeared around a corner, not noticing the Redguard woman who tailed him.
Entering the Arena district, Quii paused for a second and glanced back over his shoulder, he may not have known about his shy companion when he had first left his current residence, but he certainly did now. He ducked into an alley and stood patiently by a down pipe. A soft drip dampened the shoulder of his coat as he held his breath in anticipation. The Redguard woman rounded the corner hurriedly, her first mistake, and then fumbled for a pistol when she saw that he waited for her, her second. The Imperial’s hand lashed out and grabbed her wrist. Many often made the mistake that the slight hacker would lack the physical aptitude to deal with difficult situations due to his profession, but that would be their folly. An iron grip restrained her and as she lashed out with her other hand he spat a still lit cigarette into her face and then followed through with a head-butt that connected with her cheek. She gasped and dropped the pistol.
“Who are you?” Quii breathed quickly into her face.
She remained silent and continued her futile efforts to regain her freedom “Last chance darling……who?”
She hissed and muttered something.
“I didn’t catch that” His tone darkened with implied threat.
“I said….Mink” She thrashed again.
“Alright Mink, now that we have that established…..you know what the next question will be, don’t you?” He leaned in again, their breaths mingling in the close proximity.
“The information” She gasped “You know….just, the information. I was paid to steal it from you” She closed her eyes, as if the revelation had caused her some pain.
“And was the plan to kill me as well?” The Imperial’s eyes roved over her face, waiting for an answer that he hoped wouldn’t come.
“Yes” came the halting reply, almost as if she was embarrassed. He looked away and cursed silently, spitting in disgust.
“Who hired you?” He released her hands and stepped back, for a moment Quii thought that Mink would take the opportunity to run, but she surprised him by slumping back against the crumbling brick.
“Sharg-Mar” she looked up at him, her dark features looked bruised and full of resignation “Red Sharg-Mar”
Quii turned away from his captive and launched a kick at a can. It spun away up the alley, sounding the Imperial’s anger. Red Sharg-Mar, the same Orsimer who had was paying him for the information in the first place. What had he gotten himself into?
Mink walked under the intermittent buzz of the fluorescent light and halted, she looked back at Quii and gestured for him to stop. The Redguard was street savvy, that was for certain. Twice now she had evaded patrols that were clearly tasked with the same job as what she had. Taking out Quii and relieving him of the thumb drive. Quii pressed himself into the shadows as yet another cluster of thugs ambled past. Looking, but without much enthusiasm. Sharg-Mar must not have been paying them that much if they were doing their jobs so poorly. Once the armed hunters had passed, the Redguard street-girl tugged at the sleeve of Quii’s duster and gestured for him to move forward.
“He’ll kill you even if you do get to him, you must realize this?” the inflections of her words carried the intonations of someone that had grown up in Dragonstar, or what was left of it after half the city was demolished in an airstrike.
“leave that for me to worry about” using the palm of his hand, he pushed the girl ahead of him and around the corner.
The usual clientele leaned against the bar of the down stairs area as the Imperial and the Redguard pushed their way into the confines of the R@ncid Kh@jiit. The bar had operated under various guises for many eras and the weathered surface of the serving area could probably attest to a tale or two. Arrows to the knee not withstanding Quii had spent a few evening in rooms just like this one spinning stories about skimming the surface of Oblivion in search of a hidden cache of loot just waiting to be hacked and transferred into his account. All false of course. The real value in Oblivion couldn’t be accessed without the most refined skill sets. All of the rest of it was merely dross, wealth horded by jaded Dremora Kynreeve who pushed funds from their intended destination into holding accounts in a spiteful grab for power through depletion of the wealth of higher ranking Kynmarcher.
At Quii’s entrance, a tension presented itself that wound itself up like a broken clock with each passing second. Various denizens of Tamriel cast furtive glances his way and whispers fell in a susurration of expectation. This could be his last day on Nirn for all he knew, but never-the-less, he had to know why. What was the point of the ambush that had been plotted against him. Cyrodil politics was labrynthian at the best of times, however, there was no reason for this. He was a low level player. He paused and considered if perhaps this was not the best of plans. He felt as if he was being Fus Ro Dah’d, to use the old language, with no alternative course of action in sight.
The crowd parted as he walked, one hand resting lightly against Mink’s back. He could feel the quickened throb of her heart through the thinning fabric of her rough spun shirt. She knew that potentially, this could end her existence as well. Up the stairs to the office they walked and now the silence in the bar was audible, a keening whine of held breaths as each footfall left a creak in its wake. Quii, stepped past Mink and applied pressure to the plain wooden door at the very crest of the stairs. His breath caught in his throat as he pushed it inwards.
“Quiixto old boy, whatever took you so long?” Sharg-Mar smirked as he looked upon the arrival of his new guests. He then turned his head to one side “They’re here”
A shabby curtain parted and through the door stepped an elegantly clad foot.
“Excellent…..right on time” uttered the Dremora Valkynaz.
Onyx'sis Ben Raffar the Younger
Edited by phoenix18776rwb17_ESO on 13 August 2014 13:00 Rain lashed the thick, rough surface of the window pane as Quiixto sat in the darkness, his face illuminated by the sprawling lines of code that slowed within the borders of his screen. He tapped softly at the illuminated keys of his laptop and used the tracking pad to traverse the text in quick, rodent-like movements. Behind him on the bed, the tousled hair of a blonde Nord woman caressed the slightly grimy fabric of the pillowcases.
Quii stopped for a second and stretched languidly, a small click sounded from his neck and his shadowed eyes took in the information presented before him. The Nordic woman stretched, seemingly in response to his own movements, the thin fabric of one of his t-shirts sheathed the top half of a statuesque frame as she moved beneath the sheets.
“Come back to bed won’t you love?” She murmured in her thick accent, the words uttered in that rhythmic lilting tone that Nords had.
“Soon” he promised, and then the Imperial hacker turned back to his work.
Removing his attention from the physical distraction behind him, the hacker clicked again and waited patiently as the internal processors of the machine hummed quietly through their sub-routines. After what seemed an eternity, a small chime sounded and the Imperial knew that he had been successful. The processors seemed to whine more quickly in anticipation and suddenly a small icon indicated that the data transfer had commenced. The Orsimer who had paid for this contract was going to be more than pleased with Quii’s work this evening. Finishing up and with the information safely stored on a thumb drive, the Imperial yanked it from the USB slot and stored it in a secretive pocket of his knapsack. Crawling back into the bed, his lips found hers in the dark.
Dawn transformed the litter strewn alleys of the waterfront district of the Imperial City into a place of wonder. The otherwise grimy facades of derelict buildings were imbued in the soft glow of Tamriel’s sun and as Quii exited the dirty tenement that he had called home for the past few months, he whistled under his breath. The information he had collected last night was going to keep him well stocked in Seps until at least the middle of next year. Maybe he could even get away to the Illiac Bay, leave all of this behind. But he had to deliver it first. The address he had been given for the drop was The R@ncid Kh@jiit, a bar that was known more for unexplained disappearances than it was for its band lineup. Lighting a Skooma joint to take the edge off, Quiixto thrust his fingerless gloved hands deep into the pockets of his black duster and drew a deep breath, then exhaled it in a thick cloud of blue smoke. The sun picked out the details of the dull green eye that had been stitched inelegantly onto its back as he disappeared around a corner, not noticing the Redguard woman who tailed him.
Entering the Arena district, Quii paused for a second and glanced back over his shoulder, he may not have known about his shy companion when he had first left his current residence, but he certainly did now. He ducked into an alley and stood patiently by a down pipe. A soft drip dampened the shoulder of his coat as he held his breath in anticipation. The Redguard woman rounded the corner hurriedly, her first mistake, and then fumbled for a pistol when she saw that he waited for her, her second. The Imperial’s hand lashed out and grabbed her wrist. Many often made the mistake that the slight hacker would lack the physical aptitude to deal with difficult situations due to his profession, but that would be their folly. An iron grip restrained her and as she lashed out with her other hand he spat a still lit cigarette into her face and then followed through with a head-butt that connected with her cheek. She gasped and dropped the pistol.
“Who are you?” Quii breathed quickly into her face.
She remained silent and continued her futile efforts to regain her freedom “Last chance darling……who?”
She hissed and muttered something.
“I didn’t catch that” His tone darkened with implied threat.
“I said….Mink” She thrashed again.
“Alright Mink, now that we have that established…..you know what the next question will be, don’t you?” He leaned in again, their breaths mingling in the close proximity.
“The information” She gasped “You know….just, the information. I was paid to steal it from you” She closed her eyes, as if the revelation had caused her some pain.
“And was the plan to kill me as well?” The Imperial’s eyes roved over her face, waiting for an answer that he hoped wouldn’t come.
“Yes” came the halting reply, almost as if she was embarrassed. He looked away and cursed silently, spitting in disgust.
“Who hired you?” He released her hands and stepped back, for a moment Quii thought that Mink would take the opportunity to run, but she surprised him by slumping back against the crumbling brick.
“Sharg-Mar” she looked up at him, her dark features looked bruised and full of resignation “Red Sharg-Mar”
Quii turned away from his captive and launched a kick at a can. It spun away up the alley, sounding the Imperial’s anger. Red Sharg-Mar, the same Orsimer who had was paying him for the information in the first place. What had he gotten himself into?
Mink walked under the intermittent buzz of the fluorescent light and halted, she looked back at Quii and gestured for him to stop. The Redguard was street savvy, that was for certain. Twice now she had evaded patrols that were clearly tasked with the same job as what she had. Taking out Quii and relieving him of the thumb drive. Quii pressed himself into the shadows as yet another cluster of thugs ambled past. Looking, but without much enthusiasm. Sharg-Mar must not have been paying them that much if they were doing their jobs so poorly. Once the armed hunters had passed, the Redguard street-girl tugged at the sleeve of Quii’s duster and gestured for him to move forward.
“He’ll kill you even if you do get to him, you must realize this?” the inflections of her words carried the intonations of someone that had grown up in Dragonstar, or what was left of it after half the city was demolished in an airstrike.
“leave that for me to worry about” using the palm of his hand, he pushed the girl ahead of him and around the corner.
The usual clientele leaned against the bar of the down stairs area as the Imperial and the Redguard pushed their way into the confines of the R@ncid Kh@jiit. The bar had operated under various guises for many eras and the weathered surface of the serving area could probably attest to a tale or two. Arrows to the knee not withstanding Quii had spent a few evening in rooms just like this one spinning stories about skimming the surface of Oblivion in search of a hidden cache of loot just waiting to be hacked and transferred into his account. All false of course. The real value in Oblivion couldn’t be accessed without the most refined skill sets. All of the rest of it was merely dross, wealth horded by jaded Dremora Kynreeve who pushed funds from their intended destination into holding accounts in a spiteful grab for power through depletion of the wealth of higher ranking Kynmarcher.
At Quii’s entrance, a tension presented itself that wound itself up like a broken clock with each passing second. Various denizens of Tamriel cast furtive glances his way and whispers fell in a susurration of expectation. This could be his last day on Nirn for all he knew, but never-the-less, he had to know why. What was the point of the ambush that had been plotted against him. Cyrodil politics was labrynthian at the best of times, however, there was no reason for this. He was a low level player. He paused and considered if perhaps this was not the best of plans. He felt as if he was being Fus Ro Dah’d, to use the old language, with no alternative course of action in sight.
The crowd parted as he walked, one hand resting lightly against Mink’s back. He could feel the quickened throb of her heart through the thinning fabric of her rough spun shirt. She knew that potentially, this could end her existence as well. Up the stairs to the office they walked and now the silence in the bar was audible, a keening whine of held breaths as each footfall left a creak in its wake. Quii, stepped past Mink and applied pressure to the plain wooden door at the very crest of the stairs. His breath caught in his throat as he pushed it inwards.
“Quiixto old boy, whatever took you so long?” Sharg-Mar smirked as he looked upon the arrival of his new guests. He then turned his head to one side “They’re here”
A shabby curtain parted and through the door stepped an elegantly clad foot.
“Excellent…..right on time” uttered the Dremora Valkynaz.
Onyx'sis Ben Raffar the Younger
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