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In this series: Thrall
Julan Kaushibael recites all the Daedra, Princes and Demiprinces and servants, and resists the urge to scream Sheogorath's name, because it's storming and he's in this Tribunal-damned city, and the Madgod would show up just to entertain Himself.
That's what he gets for claiming he was the Nerevarine when, no, he just happens to be a Dreamer because he shares enough of Dagoth Ur's sentiments toward the Empire (fuck the Empire) and the Tribunal (fuck the Tribunal) to be considered sympathetic to their cause enough to try recruiting him. That's also what he gets for having humored the talking cat that saved his life and keeping up the charade because talking cats can't get a lot of people to take them seriously.
At least the Tribunal's archcanon looks like he's sucked on a tarr-limon with a generous helping of trama root pulp as he says, through gritted teeth, that Lord Vivec has summoned the Nerevarine to the High Fane, and the persecution will be halted for the moment.
Julan wasn't really aware there was persecution of the Nerevarine going around. He glances down at the cat, who is dressed in the most adorable combination of an ashcowl and resin goggles, and the talking cat simply tips his head to the side in silent question, answering Julan's unspoken one. No, Var hasn't been intercepting Julan's would-be persecutors.
...Julan wonders if it's the assassins, be it the outlanders or the sleepers, that accidentally delayed ordinators from their little harrassment campaign, then.
Either way, he sighs, picks up his cat companion (because Var doesn't like the rain, and it's easier to just carry him in the crook of his arm under his raincloak than find a raincloak that works on a cat), and sets off toward the High Fane.
He feels very proud of himself for learning levitation, it means he doesn't get lost in this architectural disaster of a Hlaalu monstrosity that makes Mephala's weaves look like a single straight path forward. That means that his arms aren't dead by the time he steps into Vivec's temple. Talking cats are heavy little fucks.
"Welcome, Incarnate. We have business--"
Julan brandishes Var like a talisman, advancing on the false god without hesitation, causing Vivec to pause, visibly thrown off by what's unfolding before him. Julan is very familiar with what a first meeting with Var feels like, so he takes great delight in inflicting that on the false god now.
"Here's your Nerevarine."
"Hello, Lord Vivec."
Watching Vivec's face twitch like something pinched him when Var speaks up may not be revenge for Nerevar's murder, not anything close, but it's very satisfying. So is the dry-as-ash tone of the false god's reply.
"I see Azura thinks she's funny."
In this series: Ghost, Troublemaker
Julan Kaushibael recites all the Daedra, Princes and Demiprinces and servants, and resists the urge to scream Sheogorath's name, because it's storming and he's in this Tribunal-damned city, and the Madgod would show up just to entertain Himself.
That's what he gets for claiming he was the Nerevarine when, no, he just happens to be a Dreamer because he shares enough of Dagoth Ur's sentiments toward the Empire (fuck the Empire) and the Tribunal (fuck the Tribunal) to be considered sympathetic to their cause enough to try recruiting him. That's also what he gets for having humored the talking cat that saved his life and keeping up the charade because talking cats can't get a lot of people to take them seriously.
At least the Tribunal's archcanon looks like he's sucked on a tarr-limon with a generous helping of trama root pulp as he says, through gritted teeth, that Lord Vivec has summoned the Nerevarine to the High Fane, and the persecution will be halted for the moment.
Julan wasn't really aware there was persecution of the Nerevarine going around. He glances down at the cat, who is dressed in the most adorable combination of an ashcowl and resin goggles, and the talking cat simply tips his head to the side in silent question, answering Julan's unspoken one. No, Var hasn't been intercepting Julan's would-be persecutors.
...Julan wonders if it's the assassins, be it the outlanders or the sleepers, that accidentally delayed ordinators from their little harrassment campaign, then.
Either way, he sighs, picks up his cat companion (because Var doesn't like the rain, and it's easier to just carry him in the crook of his arm under his raincloak than find a raincloak that works on a cat), and sets off toward the High Fane.
He feels very proud of himself for learning levitation, it means he doesn't get lost in this architectural disaster of a Hlaalu monstrosity that makes Mephala's weaves look like a single straight path forward. That means that his arms aren't dead by the time he steps into Vivec's temple. Talking cats are heavy little fucks.
"Welcome, Incarnate. We have business--"
Julan brandishes Var like a talisman, advancing on the false god without hesitation, causing Vivec to pause, visibly thrown off by what's unfolding before him. Julan is very familiar with what a first meeting with Var feels like, so he takes great delight in inflicting that on the false god now.
"Here's your Nerevarine."
"Hello, Lord Vivec."
Watching Vivec's face twitch like something pinched him when Var speaks up may not be revenge for Nerevar's murder, not anything close, but it's very satisfying. So is the dry-as-ash tone of the false god's reply.
"I see Azura thinks she's funny."
In this series: Ghost, Troublemaker
