OOC: This weekend, I will be gone on a Fencing tournament. You may control Alexander, but I would prefer Siras be left alone for now.
"Certainly." Swims' answered. "But first I should admonish you to be more careful with your possessions." Swims' handed Alexander the pouch of Septims he has just removed from the Battlemage's belt. "After all," he continued, "We are both brothers in the Mages Guild."
Swims-On-Land reprised his earlier report on what he had learned, leaving nothing out. The occasional slight nod from Angel assuring him it was alright.
"It appears we have a very mysterious thief. Maybe a smuggler or dealer in Dwemer artifacts." Angel concluded. "One thing is for certain; it was not someone from the Thieves Guild. Swims', would it be possible to find out the names of anyone currently dealing in Dwemer artifacts?"
The Argonian considered for a long minute before answering, "There is a male, a Dunmer, that collects such things. He does not sell them because there is usually some irregularity in the way they were acquired and transported from Morrowind. He knows a great deal about the Dwemer. Perhaps we could ask him. If you were to show him the Egg, I'm sure he would be most willing to talk to us."
Alexander balked, and snatched the gold pouch back quickly. He calmed himself when he heard Swims-On-Land was Mages Guild, however, and calmly listened to the report.
"I don't think this is a smuggler." Alexander mused, putting one hand to his chin. "What you have told me confirms what the Mages Guild figured. One of the men was outside the University during the theft. Reports claim this same man went into a crypt, and when we tried to confront him, there were a multitude of illusions of him, but he was nowhere to be found. We can only presume the second man was responsible for the possession and control of the Arch-Mage's hand maiden. I've fought many a bandit and the occasional smuggler; this is too well thought out, too elaborate, and too risky for a smuggler to attempt, unless he's got the largest set in the south." Alexander grinned at this joking remark.
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A thin, frail man entered Skingrad through the grand doors, his cloak gently swaying around his form in the morning light. He was tall, lean, and clad in satin black. When he walked, his steps were whispers, either because of his weight, or his skills.
Siras rarely ever went into town, but he made a point to do so at least once a week, to build mild reputation with the locals, and help ease suspicion as to his true nature. For now, the people of Skingrad knew him to be a hermit, living alone in a cottage south of the Imperial Reserve. There was even a cottage there, that Siras occasionally resided in but was otherwise desolate. People simply assumed the hermit alchemist was off studying wild plants.
Even with this alibi, however, Siras drew stares and people were fearful of him. No matter what he said or did, the fact remained he looked like a fleshy skeleton, and dressed entirely in black. He would always be a social outcast for these qualities. But Siras didn't care as he walked down the streets; no, he did not acknowledge the stares. Social interaction was not a pastime for the necromancer, but a chore.
A bell rang as the skeletal thin Breton opened the door to the only Alchemical shop in town, and lowered his hood. Falanu Hlaalu grinned when she saw the face of one of her more reliable customers.
"Ah, Siras. How are you this week?" Falanu asked as the man approached the counter, and Siras did not return the smile, or even quirk his lips. The face remained forever neutral.
"Not bad, though I have been running low on a few ingredients that are hard to find in this area." He told her flatly, his voice only slightly varying in pitch as he spoke.
"Well, maybe I can help with that." Falanu replied, and she bent down in front of her to open a drawer. "What does my lovely Breton Alchemist require?" It was probably for the better that Siras never discovered -yet- Falanu's perversion; his skeletal appearance made her amazingly kind towards him. Siras did not support necrophilia as he viewed it to be not the use of the dead to aid the living, like necromancy, but the
abuse of the dead for the pleasures of the living, a crime many necromancers commit in the summoning of vast amounts of minions in caverns simply because they could.
"I have run low on Aloe vera, Bog Beacon Asco, Dragon Tongue, Flax Seed, Stinkhorn, and Nightshade." Siras listed off, and Falanu pulled out the more common of these listed, setting them on the counter before grabbing a key.
"I see you have been experimenting with your poisons in your hunting, huh?" She asked, as she moved towards the basemant where she stored her rarer ingredients.