📜 51. “Mystery at Harlun’s Watch”

ALT

🌄 Loredas, 13th of Frostfall, 3E 433

(Cheydinhal → Harlun’s Watch → Swampy Cave → Cheydinhal)

I had scarcely finished one contract when Burz gro-Khash called me in again.

“More disappearances,” he said, rubbing his temples. “Harlun’s Watch, south of here. Villagers vanishing without a trace. Go see what you can find.”

The road led me through leafless trees and early frost. Harlun’s Watch was small, quiet, and wrapped in unease. Drarana Thelis met me near the well, eyes hollow from sleepless nights.

“They go out looking for the lights,” she whispered. “Blue ones, flickering in the marshes. And they never come back.”

She pointed me toward Swampy Cave, where the lights were last seen. It was little more than a damp cleft in the ground—but I could already see the truth. Will-o-the-Wisps floated near the entrance, their ghostly glow haunting the trees.

Inside, the truth turned savage. The cave teemed with trolls, their foul stench saturating the stone. I fought them room by room, Dawnsunder and Sunglade striking true through the dark. Midway through the cavern, I found what we feared: the body of Eduard Denile, crumpled beneath claw marks. There was no hope left for the missing.

I cleared the rest of the cave, ensuring no beast would claim another soul.

Back at Harlun’s Watch, Drarana received the news in silence. “We feared it,” she said, tears brimming. “But at least now… we know.”

She handed me a simple band—the Mind and Body Ring, enchanted to strengthen resolve. A quiet thank-you from those with little left to give.

I returned to Cheydinhal that night, heavy with thought. Burz grunted his approval and handed over the payment. “You’re doing good work,” he said gruffly.

I nodded. Not all victories gleam in sunlight.

The light they followed was not salvation, but sorrow.
Still, we walk toward it, if it means shielding those who remain.

📜 50. “The Noble’s Daughter”

ALT

🌄 Fredas, 12th of Frostfall, 3E 433

(Cheydinhal → Lord Rugdumph’s Estate → Eastern Hills → Cheydinhal)

After returning to Cheydinhal, I reported once more to Burz gro-Khash. His greeting was as terse as ever, but his concern was plain when he handed me the next assignment.

“Lord Rugdumph gro-Shurgak,” he grunted, “claims his daughter’s gone missing. You’ll find him at his estate northeast of Lake Arrius. Try not to insult him—he’s nobility.”

I set out at once, curious what sort of noble required Fighters Guild intervention. The estate was quiet and isolated, its walls standing proud against the chill of Frostfall. Lord Rugdumph met me in the courtyard. His manners were gracious, if… unorthodox.

“Mine offspring, Rogbut, hath been abjected,” he announced solemnly. “By ogres, no less. Taken from us in dire horror and evil!”

It took patience to decipher his words, but the meaning was clear enough. Lady Rogbut had gone wandering, and ogres had seized her somewhere east of the estate. He begged me to “exterminize” the brutes and return his beloved daughter home safely.

I followed the rough trail into the hills and soon found her—surrounded by three hulking ogres, their bellows echoing across the rocks. I struck fast and true, Dawnsunder and Sunglade guiding my defense. When the dust settled, Rogbut stood unharmed, though she seemed wholly unimpressed with the ordeal.

“You’re here from Father, aren’t you?” she sighed. “Let’s get this over with.”

The escort back was uneventful. Lord Rugdumph wept with relief and offered me a reward: an heirloom blade he called Rugdumph’s Sword. I accepted it with a respectful nod, then returned to Cheydinhal to report.

Burz merely grunted his approval and passed me the coin. “Not bad, Defender. Let’s see if you keep it up.”

Dignity takes many forms—some garbled, some grim—but even the most twisted speech can hide a noble heart.
Mercy is not measured by words, but by the road we walk to uphold it.

📜 36. “Debts and Redemption”

ALT

🌄 Loredas, 29th of Hearthfire, 3E 433

(Cheydinhal → Water’s Edge)

No sooner had I left the hopeful settlers of Crestbridge Camp than my duty pulled me southward, following the Niben’s winding path. The next Fighters Guild contract awaited: a plea for help from Biene Amelion in the quiet hamlet of Water’s Edge.

The road dipped through damp woodlands and faded farms, the late Hearthfire air heavy with the scent of turning leaves. Water’s Edge, when I reached it, seemed more a promise than a village—a few sturdy shacks clinging to the shore, their foundations battered by hardship.

Biene greeted me with red-rimmed eyes but the stubborn resolve of one who has weathered many storms. “My father’s debts are too great,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve nothing left but our family’s old sword and cuirass, locked away in the tomb by the water. If you can retrieve them, I can repay what we owe and keep our home.”

I saw no greed in her plea, only desperation. Some debts are paid in gold; others in sorrow. “I’ll do what I can,” I promised, and set off for the Amelion ancestral tomb nestled beneath tangled willows.

Inside, the air was close and cold. Undead guardians shuffled between cracked mosaics and broken urns, their eyes hungry for warmth long since forgotten. Dawnsunder’s steady light scattered the gloom, and Sunglade deflected each claw and rusted blade. I moved with reverence, disturbing nothing but what stood in the way of hope.

At last, I found the sword and cuirass, their metal dulled by years but their weight unchanged. I gathered them up and retraced my steps, leaving the dead to their peace.

Biene met me at the door, her relief a quiet benediction. “This will save us,” she breathed. “You’ve done more than reclaim our name—you’ve restored our future.”

I thought of Cropsford’s tilled fields, of debts and kindness and the small victories that change the shape of a life. Some battles are fought in shadow and steel, but others—perhaps the most important—are won by answering a cry for help.

True service asks for no reward but the chance to make wrong things right.
In giving hope, we find our own.

📜 21. “The Painted Prison”

🌄 Fredas, 14th of Hearthfire, 3E 433

(Cheydinhal – Rythe Lythandas’ Studio)

The morning in Cheydinhal was overcast, mirroring the unease that settled in my chest. Tivela Lythandas, a woman of grace shadowed by worry, approached me with a plea: her husband, Rythe, a renowned painter, had vanished without a trace. The city guards offered little assistance, their hands tied by bureaucracy or indifference.

Determined to help, I accepted her request and entered their home. The air inside was thick with the scent of oils and canvas. In Rythe’s studio, an unfinished painting beckoned—a landscape so vivid it seemed to pulse with life. As I reached out, the world shifted.

I found myself within the painting, the colors around me swirling in a surreal dance. The sky was a tapestry of hues, and the trees whispered secrets in brushstroke patterns. Rythe stood nearby, relieved yet anxious. He explained that a magical brush, stolen by a thief, had trapped him in this realm. To escape, we needed to retrieve it.

Our journey was perilous. The painted world was inhabited by trolls, their forms distorted by the artist’s imagination. Armed with turpentine-coated weapons, we confronted these beasts. Each battle tested our resolve, the creatures’ strength formidable even in their painted forms.

After a series of harrowing encounters, we located the thief’s corpse, the brush clutched in his lifeless hand. With it, Rythe painted a portal, allowing us to return to the real world.

Back in his studio, Rythe expressed profound gratitude, gifting me the Apron of Adroitness—a token of appreciation and a symbol of our shared ordeal.

In the realm of art, I discovered that courage and compassion transcend the boundaries of reality.

[COM] Josh’s Oblivion Commission

A cute couple commission for Josh of his Oblivion OCs ♥

Interested in your own commission? Commission me on VGen ♥ vgen.co/KasuRequiem

Guess who immediatly went from the Arena to the Dark Brotherhood? My moraly questionable wood elf!
Btw the mission on Skingrad is one of the best ones in the whole game
#art #oblivion #oblivionoc #darkbrotherhoodforever
https://www.instagram.com/p/B3hzbNViymA/?igshid=qmykp4adma72

quality was murdered when i emailed it to myself but here was a late night sketch of kinda what i wished i looked like. i made it the night before last and i bleached my hair yesterday and dyed it today. it was fun and now my hair is this shade of purple so i made this. i look pretty much like this but i don’t have the piercings.

my first ever dutch angel dragon yooo. an online color sheet with completely flat colors and then a headshot sketch.

have some art