Word Wars: Race Against the Clock Part III







Sounds good!



@DaisyDoesNothing @NotLikeYouThink


438 :blush:

She left the manor, nodding at the mercenaries that loitered on the ground floor, and headed to the Temple of Mara. First, though, she took a detour to Madesi’s jewellery stand, a small sack of goods in her hand.

She smiled at the Argonian and placed the sack on the wooden slats of the stand. “I got what you wanted.”

Madesi opened the sack and looked through it. When he found that everything was there, he grinned up at her. “Thank you, Calyn. Here—” he opened the jewellery case at the front of the stand and pulled off a necklace, silver with an emerald set in the middle, and gave it to her. “For your troubles. Thank you again.”

She smiled back at him, graciously accepting the necklace as payment. “It was no problem, Madesi. Gave me something to do in between adventures.”

They parted, and Calyn headed towards the Temple of Mara. Specifically, the hidden entrance to the Cistern.

She had just entered the walls when an Argonian woman grabbed her arm, her grasp vice-like and irritating the burn scars underneath Calyn’s armour, and croaked at the Breton in desperation.

“Please, you have to help me! I’m going to lose my job at the Riften Fishery.”

She looked at the Argonian—a bald orange-brown woman in a blue dress with an iron dagger at her side, her eyes bloodshot, her bones protruding from beneath her scaly skin—and recognised her as Wujeeta, one of the dock workers.

“You might lose your job?” the Breton asked, trying to tug her arm out of the Argonian’s grasp.

Wujeeta nodded, lowering her hand now that she had Calyn’s attention. “My job at the Riften Fishery is in danger. The owner, Bolli, said that if I show up for work in this condition one more time, then I’m out. I don’t mean to do this to myself, but I can’t help it. I tried some skooma a year ago, and ever since then, I can’t stop! If you could give me a healing potion, I could cleanse this poison from my body and get back to my life.”

Calyn nodded, and shoved her hand into the pack at her side. She always had several health potions on hand, just in case she needed some healing while deep in a dungeon. Of course, she’s only ever purchased a total of eight potions, the rest she recovered from her dungeon delves.

She pulled one out and handed it to Wujeeta. “Here you go.”

She snatched the potion and dug her hand into her pocket, looking for something while thanking her profusely.






Sounds good!


Goal for these 13 minutes is 400 :slight_smile:


Goal is 250


I got 452 for the last round. I’m going to sit this one out and join the next one as I’ve just been pulled into an argument


Good job for the last round!

The next one will be soon for you to join


Just saw this, I’m going to take History, English Literature and either Politics or Photography


340 :blush:

“Your kindness will never be forgotten. Here, take this,” she said, and pulled her hand out of her pocket, thrusting something into Calyn’s chest. A quick look showed that it was a ruby. “It’s all I can offer for what you’ve given me.”

Wujeeta started to walk away, uncorking the health potion she had been given, but was stopped with a hand on her shoulder. She turned back to Calyn, who was smiling at her.

“Something you can offer me is where you got your skooma,” she said. She knew the dangers of skooma. One of her friends had been addicted to it, and had been lucky enough to be able to get cured of it. She wanted to get rid of it.

She looked uncertain. “I-I don’t think I should say,” she said. “I mean, they could kill me!”

“Yes, but you owe me,” Calyn said. “And if anyone comes after you, I’ll kill them before they can lay a finger on you.”

The Argonian hesitated for a moment, before nodding. “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you. I get my skooma from Sarthis Idren. He has some sort of a setup over at the Riften Warehouse. You can’t get inside, though. They’ve kept that place locked up tight since the war began.”

Calyn was inclined to say that the war had been over for six months—oblivion, she had killed Ulfric Stormcloak herself—but decided not to. Instead, she asked, “Who has a key to the warehouse?”

“I overheard Bolli saying that only the Jarl carries the key to the warehouse. When I meet Sarthis there, he’s usually waiting for me outside with his bodyguard.”

She nodded, and tilted her head slightly. “What are you gonna do now?”

Wujeeta sighed. “If it wasn’t for skooma, I’d already be on my way out of this horrible city. All my gold… completely gone. Now I have to start over. I’ll never use skooma again! Although I suppose a little mead now and then would be harmless…”

She trailed off, a small




i’m gonna post a paragraph but remove the names as it’s the final chapter and I don’t want to give spoilers if anyone’s going to read it.




the finale

Nobody that Erain had ever met was as lovely as the had made out. “How long did you know that I was the Prince of Durielte?” Erain asked . “How long have you been planning to kill me for?” face twisted into a smile, and yet Erain kept his eyes on the They were supposed to be friends, was supposed to be a Supposed to be there to protect others