People like to have their legends. Their mystical gods and otherworldly heroes. They wanted to be amazed, awestruck by magic and Devine intervention, to give their lives bigger meaning by being part of a story that would be told for generations to come.

Dalma was non of that. She was a professional, plain and simple. She could not wield magic, and the gods had given her nothing but trouble. All she had was the bow at her back, the lock picks in her pocket and a lifetime of experience. And yet, she was the very best there was.

She was infamous throughout Cyradil, though few knew her name, and even fewer knew her face. She could get in anywhere, breaking locks in seconds, picking clean every valuable in a building with stunning efficiency, stealing things right out of your pocket, and she’d do it all without you even knowing she was there. She was no stranger to combat either. More then a few guards, beasts and bandits had met their end at the point of her arrow, hitting the floor dead before they even knew they weren't alone.

It was for this reason she was seen as some sort of mythical figure, unknown and unknowable, but the reality, as it often was, was simply much more obvious. Money. That’s all it was for. She lived the way she always had, hand to mouth. She had no great ambition of being the worlds greatest master thief, to be known in legend or go down in history. She simply lived the way that suited her best.

It was a lonely existence. She owned no house, never stayed in one place for too long. She had no friends, no close once, only a few who even knew she exited in the first place. By the very nature of her profession, she could not be an integrated part of any community or group. Probably the people who knew her best in this world were the fences she would sell her stolen goods too. She had to be like a ghost. She spent most of her days in the forests and mountains, far from people, accompanied by only the moons above and a small fire, travelling from place to place by day. It wasn't rare for her to go months without saying a single word. She preferred it that way.

It was only on rare night like this she felt she was ”off the job”. Sitting in a remote inn along the road from Bravil to the Imperial City, accompanied by only a few stray travelers, she had gotten a drink and an actual room for the night. Of course she would not speak to anyone, no one would remember her, and she would soon blend in with the furniture in the memories of the others there when they tried to recall this night. She sipped slowly from her giant beer glass, watching quietly, as she always did.

All too soon, morning would come, and she would never have been here. It might seem mysterious, or extraordinary, or special in any way, but it wasn't. She was just a professional.

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Had fun writing this, i enjoy writing pure vibes and ambiance with no plot lol. its relaxing. Anyway this painting was a bitch but i like how it turned out. Been playing oblivion again and it got me really hyped for my old Oblivion character and i wanned to do something with her, so this is what i ended up doing. If u against all odds actually read the story please tell me what you thought! I'm an artist not a writer so i probably still have alot to improve on haha.