Operation Rat-Catcher; The Rift Guild Report

(This small book appears to be a loosely handwritten herbal pamphlet, detailing flowers and flora native to Skyrim. The Nightshade entry on the first page is strangely out of alphabetical order and has nonsensical writing at the end of the paragraph:

“yqdcbmt nlxrz...”, “emj cblyirp...”, and “fqrcxjzaoxf...”

Utilizing a cipherwheel –a rare, clandestine Guild tool– with the encryption keyword “Nightshade”, the words are decoded as “Lixivium Niter, Red Vitriol, and Silversalts”, respectively. When swathed in an alchemical elixir of the listed ingredients, invisible ink appears over the paper, entailing the true message.)

F,

This is the first of what will likely be several reports from the Rift guild. Yes, this letter is two and a half weeks late, but trust that is not due to idleness or apathy but rather because Skyrim is a miserable, hellacious, frigid dunghole. The wagon driver that you hired is dead, killed in a haphazard Legion ambush at the border. You employed a fool, and the blisters and frostbite on this one’s paws speak to his failure. It has been a terribly arduous journey, no thanks to your most well-laid arrangements, but Z has finally reached the rogue chapter. From what Z has observed so far, it would seem as if your concerns are well justified. Operations are in a state of absolute disarray, with the fetor of insubordination and backroom dealings filling Khajiit’s nostrils. Although, perhaps that’s because they’re harbored in a literal cesspool…

Not but four hours after arriving in Riften this one was approached in the tavern by the Rift Guildmaster’s Doyen, known by the alias “Brynjolf”. The Nord caused a considerable bit of alarm, as he identified Jo’Khajiit as a thief almost immediately, and this one reckoned his cover to be compromised. This fared to be little more than a recruitment tactic rather than an unrhetorical inquest, likely based on the assumption that this one looked the part of a burglar. Gaining access to the city itself was difficult for Khajiit, and it is no question as to whether or not it was my fur and tail that the Doyen based his assumption. A strange and rather prejudiced approach to chartering new footpads, although correct in this particular instance. Not all Khajiiti are criminals. Z is simply a very poor example.

This one digresses... Following his declined offer to purchase some local swill from the barkeep, Brynjolf enticed Z to perform a task proving his competency. Some Nord vigilante had been sticking her nose into the Guild’s operations and apparently vowed to singlehandedly slay them all. He’d like for Khajiit to teach her a lesson for such foolishness by hoisting her weapon and replacing it with a sternly worded note. Death threats by dint of memoranda bring to mind Dark Brotherhood conduct, yes? Seemed particularly unfitting to this one, as grew up being trained to avoid revealing the Guild’s existence. This was the first indication that something about this provincial chapter was particularly defective. He gave a deadline by nightfall, and the afternoon was nearly over, so it’d have to be done in broad daylight. Simple enough.

Purloining the axe from the Nord was rather elementary. A line of friendly but uncomfortable inquiry of an indecent nature and her vigilance was easily broken. Posing as a foreign merchant speaking in broken Tamrielic, this one began asking for directions and sociably began to impose the implication of a sexual affinity with the Nord and her lickspittle companion that trailed her heels. In her embarrassment, it took very little Illusion magic to create a retentive blindspot, as Khajiit finds most Nords are susceptible to modest misdirection and are also quite prudish. Battleaxe gently freed from the baldric, and the shadowmarked letter stuffed in its place, Z returned the prize to the Doyen. He seemed impressed with this one’s skill and said to rendezvous at their hideaway without delay. It is odd for any guild to go out and approach unscrupulous appearing characters on the street. Z dismissed this as an act of desperation on their behalf, but it would not be the last unconventional practice that would be noticed.

The Guild’s sanctuary here is nestled in nauseating subterranean underworks known as the Ratways, which is the sole base of the chapter’s activity in Skyrim, with a conspicuous pub serving laughably as a front. It would appear as though the city’s municipal powers have been bribed or otherwise coerced into not disturbing their enterprise, because there is no other way to explain why a bar in the damned sewers would still be uninvestigated. Brought into the main cistern of the hideout by Brynjolf, Khajiit was informally introduced to the Guildmaster of this chapter, whom you certainly already know by name. He was forthwith with his suspicion of Z, even questioning any previous involvement with the Guild, but thankfully this one is apt at acting a convincing simpleton incapable of sabotage. His outright apprehension of Z only makes this chapter that much more suspect, and Jo’Khajiit is resolved to discover the reason behind it.

While settling in to this one’s new quarters, conjoint to the rest of the cots and arrayed around the ambit of the putrid-smelling aqueduct, new armor for initiates was acquisitioned. It’s a leathered uniform, really, with bandoliers and satchels attached. After receiving the gear, Khajiit quickly realized that all operating Guild members wore this same equipment. The Guildmaster’s armor even bears the chapter’s insignia. For what reason a clandestine criminal society would dispense identifiable apparel to its faculty is absolutely beyond comprehension. It would seem to Z that they are not concerned with the nuances of secrecy, owing to their supposed private influence in the city. It is still sloppy, corruption or not. No matter how crooked the politician that the Guild bribed, we would never shake their hand in public, no?

The junior members are a talkative bunch, most of them being puerile and unversed in the higher points of refined larceny. Most apparent is their lack of savvy in sharing intimate information with complete strangers during downtime; stangers who are in the business of exploitation, no less. A few drinks and some cordial discourse, and they are all too eager to ask Z fatuous questions like from where he hails, when he began his life of crime and what brings him to Skyrim. Benign questions such as this would have gotten them a knife in their belly in any other chapter... Reasoning new lies is becoming tiresome, but more bothersome is seeing such blatant disregard for another thief’s confidentiality. Basic Guild etiquette is lost here, though this one blames the lack of proper leadership rather than the children. They come from petty bandit gangs, the city gutters and prisons, and since their induction have yet to be mentored in the manner of professionalism that distinguishes us from common throngs of riffraff. Veteran bearing is learned by appropriate experience, but flagrant carelessness is reprehensible. If Jo’Khajiit was not undercover as an initiate, many a reprimand would be issued.

The other members, senior ones included, tell Z that the Guild has “fallen on hard times”. Reportedly, several recent heists have been foiled, with misfortune being where they lay the fault. On top of that, they are not turning nearly enough of a profit to keep their operations stable at this disastrous rate. “Bad luck”, they say. Luck is real, of this we are all certain, but there is only so much incompetence that you can blame on fortuity. As always seems to be the case, there is a percentage of thieves here that talk of a curse. This one has seen too much to outright doubt superstition, but perhaps it is safe to say that the inadequate command has something to do with it?

We drank most of the night, sharing excited stories of our exploits, as thieves tend to do. Spinning false tales of Elsweyr is peculiar, as this one has never been there personally, but they are thankfully not well-traveled and liable to believe one with claws. Z is the only of his kind here. It occured to this one that many of these northlanders have likely never seen a Khajiit before in their lives, much less lived amongst one. The Nord bartender in particular was curious about the shape of Khajiit’s legs, likely only aware of Cathay, prodding rudely at his knees. They are not yet suspicious of this one so far, but the unnecessary interest is disconcerting. Perhaps you had not considered, when selecting a single spy to send to a foreign land hundreds of miles away, that they could have been someone who’s mere appearance wouldn’t yield unwanted attention?

It is no matter; the mission goes relatively well at the time of this writing... Khajiit would just rather that you had sent anybody else.

Once the drinks were gone and night had set in, Z lingered patiently for his opportunity to probe the ledgers. The thieves who hadn’t taken the occasion to use the shroud of midnight to go filch were fast asleep. Unfortunately, the Guildmaster’s desk was out in plain sight and still being attended by him. From what this one has heard, he is rarely not present in the cistern itself. This was aggravating, and Khajiit lingered in his bed for much longer than he expected to have to. Just as it appeared as if he was about to retire from his desk, the Guildmaster nimbly gathered his documents in a leather binder and left the hideout with them in hand. The anger subsided once Z spotted a single half-crumpled article roll silently off the desk in his haste. Khajiit had to move quickly as he feared the dripping water and puddles would turn potential evidence into pulp. This one tried to keep a low profile, swiftly moving on all fours, but unfortunately thieves tend to be light sleepers.

Evidently, the chapter has been working hard. Very hard, according to this budgetary balance sheet. Numerous reports of forgeries, exhortation, heists and thousands of drakes worth of fenced goods have been listed recently. A great deal of the record was solely dedicated to some kind of racketeering deal with one “Blackbriar Meadery” What’s uncanny is that the Guild’s budgetary register does not reflect the amount of product moved, and by result, it would appear as if the Guild’s funds are severely lacking. The chapter should be in a better position than they find themselves, but for whatever reason, the gold is just not there. They live in a sewer, so Z does not imagine that they have very many financial obligations to uphold. Where could it all be going?

A Bosmer that Jo’Khajiit has forgotten the name of approached this one before more information could be annexed. The elf asked what Z was up to, “in the middle of the night”. This one deflected the question, speaking in a thick Ta’agra accent of how Arzurah made Khajiiti eyes for the darkness of twilight, and it feels like a dreadful waste to sleep the whole night through. Irksomely, he persisted to pester with insipid questioning. Pretending not to understand the question, Z managed to slip away from the s’wit, rambling Elsweyrian proverb.

This one now sits here, alone in a dark chamber of the Ratways, writing this report. Many questions remain unanswered and it is too early to declare if a mutiny does, in fact, exist.

Something is truly amiss here, and although he has yet to find the evidence, it causes Khajiit’s whiskers to twitch. There is a rousing sense of danger in this place, as Z’s new guildmates are clearly not above committing violence against saboteurs. The last place that this one envisioned dying would have been a festering, sodden gutter in Skyrim. Expect a new report soon. You know what it means if it never arrives.

Z.