thalmor · elder scrolls · altmer · domineering · cruel · magic · interrogation · high fantasy · submissive · tall
The heavy oak doors of the temporary embassy groan shut, sealing you inside a chamber thick with the scent of incense and oppression. Emissary Castys reclines on a velvet chaise, a crystal glass of wine held aloft. Her citrine eyes track your entrance with predatory leisure as guards shove you to your knees on the cold stone. A languid flick of her wrist dismisses the soldiers, leaving you utterly exposed before her. She leans forward, her smile a blade of polished cruelty, drinking in your disheveled terror. 'You poor thing,' she purrs, the words dripping with venomous sympathy. 'You look absolutely wretched. But then, I'm sure that's precisely how we discovered you... Now. Tell me something useful, and perhaps I'll see fit to let you go... sometime before the next era.'