Anima di Nerezza
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
The moon was high in the night sky, to be sure, but I could not identify my opponent. All I knew is that he was drenched in blood, and the guards had blood smeared all across their bodies. Two and two equals killer. I had my dagger at the ready, but he stood there carelessly, allowing me time to consider the situation.
My opponent was unarmed, which left me bewildered. How he could slaughter these men in such a fashion and remain unharmed himself was beyond me. As I mentioned, I could make out his form, but nothing of his features. I could describe his attitude though: bold. Foolish, at best. He still waited before me, awaiting my first attack. Judging by the massacred guards, my first move would have to be my last, for I didn’t wish to entertain this killer with a long fight. I had no doubt that, if given the time, things would go in his favor.
Numbly, I lunged at him. This was an odd feeling, for it seemed to not be my own. It was almost dreamlike. The bold man stood still, as if he accepted his fate and would have it no other way. My blade danced closer and closer to my foe, but time slowed, or so it seemed. I could perceive every individual drop of rain tumbling from the darkened sky. Closer I came to running the man through. Abruptly, he leaped at me to connect in a daring clash of steel and flesh.
The sound was peculiar, to say little. There was not the usual metallic noise as the blade slid into the body. Nor was there the barely audible clanking of steel on bone. In fact, the sight was unbelievable as well. The killer was gone. I landed from my lunge and stood alone in the cold rain. I saw no body, other than those previously there. But suddenly, a hard fist connected with my back, sending me flailing onto the soggy ground.
Rising again, I turned around to face my foe again. He stood in the same over-confident fashion as before, but this time he was crouched and held his hand out, clenched. As if he’d just punched someone. Well, at least I know it was him, and I didn’t just get dumped by some giant raindrop, I thought sarcastically.
“Now, how did you get back there?” I asked, not quite expecting an answer. I didn’t get one, either, but I could have sworn that the maniac smiled at me. He leapt at me this time, apparently impatient for his next kill. He wouldn’t get one, though. Just had to time my next stunt perfectly…
Full Version: Anima di Nerezza Chapter 3
Just found this one, and read all three chapters. I'm definitely intrigued. Involving a daedric prince directly in the affairs of mortals definitely works to raise the stakes. This new opponent is quite interesting; I'm looking forward to seeing who he is and how this little fight ends.
Holy crap, did he just catch that blade with his bare hands or something? 
Yikes, this stunt of yours had better work, and quick. Otherwise that second life will be a bit shorter than expected.
Yikes, this stunt of yours had better work, and quick. Otherwise that second life will be a bit shorter than expected.
Part 2-Battle's End
Once again, time must have slowed, or so I thought. I watched as the clenched fist, which had previously knocked me off of my feet, closed in on my face. I tensed my muscles, ready to move at any moment. When I was ready to evade his punch, though, he vanished again. I had caught on to his little trick this time. Gripping my dagger a little bit tighter, I waited for a second and swung out, performing a complete circle cut. In the middle of my move, I saw my foe, not more than an inch in front of my face, about to lay me out again. I squeezed my eyes closed. Bracing myself for the pain, I heard myself scream.
Or maybe it was not me? In fact, I had not screamed. Easing my eyes open again, I realized that I was certainly not dead. That is, unless eternity takes place in front of Senator Gallias’ estate on a rainy night. With dead bodies surrounding oneself.
No, I was indeed not dead, but rather still rooted to this world. But the scream I had heard…? It must have been my foe, but it sounded much like my own voice. Or, perhaps, much like another woman. Regardless of gender, though, she had to be found first. She was not in front of me, but, due to the lack of proper lighting, I was not sure if she was even near me. Heavy breathing, fortunately, alerted me to her position: behind me and to the left.
When I was beside her, I knelt at the woman’s head. I was hoping to see her face, but the moon had been blocked by two inconvenient clouds. I could assess some of the situation though. It seemed that, whenever I had swung at her, I caught her straight across the chest, but right below the heart. It was certainly a deep wound, a well of blood, but she wouldn’t die soon. Nor would she die easily.
I had no wish to make her last moments peaceful, but out of a desire to finish what I had started, I made my way to the body of a guard and relieved him of his weapon. The long sword felt strangely heavy in my hands, but it would do the trick. I slowly crept towards her, raised the blade above my head, and plunged it into her stomach.
It is an odd coincidence, but as the steel plummeted through her midsection and into the soft dirt below, the moon rose from the darkening glance of the clouds. It was soon enough that, with great distress, I saw the whole of her face. And as the life slowly ebbed from those eyes, as if the lamp within was quenched, I realized that she was very familiar to me.
I almost cried out in fright as I watched the Thing die. Millions of thoughts swam through my mind. Was she with the Empire? Was she here to prevent my killing of Gallias? Perhaps Vercindelle had sent her in an attempt to kill me? This latter thought was very doubtful, but it always helped to keep my mind open. But among the disturbing thoughts was a more clear and dutiful one: I was here to end another’s life. I wasn’t sent to worry about secret plots or any sort of conspiracy. Business called; I must answer.
Once again, time must have slowed, or so I thought. I watched as the clenched fist, which had previously knocked me off of my feet, closed in on my face. I tensed my muscles, ready to move at any moment. When I was ready to evade his punch, though, he vanished again. I had caught on to his little trick this time. Gripping my dagger a little bit tighter, I waited for a second and swung out, performing a complete circle cut. In the middle of my move, I saw my foe, not more than an inch in front of my face, about to lay me out again. I squeezed my eyes closed. Bracing myself for the pain, I heard myself scream.
Or maybe it was not me? In fact, I had not screamed. Easing my eyes open again, I realized that I was certainly not dead. That is, unless eternity takes place in front of Senator Gallias’ estate on a rainy night. With dead bodies surrounding oneself.
No, I was indeed not dead, but rather still rooted to this world. But the scream I had heard…? It must have been my foe, but it sounded much like my own voice. Or, perhaps, much like another woman. Regardless of gender, though, she had to be found first. She was not in front of me, but, due to the lack of proper lighting, I was not sure if she was even near me. Heavy breathing, fortunately, alerted me to her position: behind me and to the left.
When I was beside her, I knelt at the woman’s head. I was hoping to see her face, but the moon had been blocked by two inconvenient clouds. I could assess some of the situation though. It seemed that, whenever I had swung at her, I caught her straight across the chest, but right below the heart. It was certainly a deep wound, a well of blood, but she wouldn’t die soon. Nor would she die easily.
I had no wish to make her last moments peaceful, but out of a desire to finish what I had started, I made my way to the body of a guard and relieved him of his weapon. The long sword felt strangely heavy in my hands, but it would do the trick. I slowly crept towards her, raised the blade above my head, and plunged it into her stomach.
It is an odd coincidence, but as the steel plummeted through her midsection and into the soft dirt below, the moon rose from the darkening glance of the clouds. It was soon enough that, with great distress, I saw the whole of her face. And as the life slowly ebbed from those eyes, as if the lamp within was quenched, I realized that she was very familiar to me.
I almost cried out in fright as I watched the Thing die. Millions of thoughts swam through my mind. Was she with the Empire? Was she here to prevent my killing of Gallias? Perhaps Vercindelle had sent her in an attempt to kill me? This latter thought was very doubtful, but it always helped to keep my mind open. But among the disturbing thoughts was a more clear and dutiful one: I was here to end another’s life. I wasn’t sent to worry about secret plots or any sort of conspiracy. Business called; I must answer.
Oops, one more death than expected. The Daedra lord will be pleased.
I liked your update. Please keep writing.
I liked your update. Please keep writing.
Part 3- Unexpected Company
Walking up to the front door of my target, I noticed the lavishness of the home in which Dante Gallias chose to live in. The front door was hand sculpted oak wood, adorned with gold plated handles. The lone window in itself must have cost the same as half of this whole house! It was a large arch of glass, embellished with pearls and other precious gems. The moon, now high in the sky, reflected off of it though, making it almost impossible to see inside.
Laying my hands on the golden handles, I pulled open the noticeably heavy doors. As I did, the cool night air rushed inside past me. I stepped inside, and instantly developed a mentality of an ominous… something. The very silence that occupied the house was making me fearful of the unknown. I cautiously climbed up the ornate stairs that lay before me, hoping for the best, but expecting the worst.
The upper level was as spine-chilling as the lower. There wasn’t supposed to be anything so haunting about this house, but I had a feeling. I ran my hands along the guard rail, trying to steady my trembling body. I revisited the graveyard outside in my thoughts, trying to put reason to the impossible, bare-handed murder of the late night watch. It didn’t make sense. Swamped in my thoughts, I barely caught myself as the rails lurched to the side.
Every muscle in my body sprang into action when the rail tipped. Thankfully it didn’t fall, but I have no doubts that it would have, had I remained. I slowed my quaky breathing, calmed my nerves, and walked on. I turned into what was supposed to be Gallias’ bedroom, to see the outline of my target sitting on the floor, facing me.
My breath caught in my throat at the thought of my own prey waiting for me. This was most unusual, indeed. But did the hunted yell out, or even move toward me in a desperate attempt at self preservation? Not at all. I must have been more horrified than he, for he did absolutely nothing. I moved forward gradually, ready to take off the man’s head if he did so much as laugh. Even with my blade in my right hand, I was still nervous.
I reached out quickly, not hesitating a bit, and grabbed Gallias’ shirt. I hoisted the unmoving one up to my face, struggling for every bit of light. He was quite dead, but I couldn’t be sure for how long he had been so. The blood that painted his face and clothing was still dripping; however his skin was stone cold. I dropped him quickly and ran, giving in to primal instinct.
I made it to the staircase area when a heavy hand grasped my neck and stopped me dead in my tracks. I screamed and flailed, but I found no strength in my limbs. The hand, with surprising power, threw me against the rails.
“No,” I managed to whisper before my descent. He threw me against the wrong spot. The weak spot collapsed, and I sunk with it.
Walking up to the front door of my target, I noticed the lavishness of the home in which Dante Gallias chose to live in. The front door was hand sculpted oak wood, adorned with gold plated handles. The lone window in itself must have cost the same as half of this whole house! It was a large arch of glass, embellished with pearls and other precious gems. The moon, now high in the sky, reflected off of it though, making it almost impossible to see inside.
Laying my hands on the golden handles, I pulled open the noticeably heavy doors. As I did, the cool night air rushed inside past me. I stepped inside, and instantly developed a mentality of an ominous… something. The very silence that occupied the house was making me fearful of the unknown. I cautiously climbed up the ornate stairs that lay before me, hoping for the best, but expecting the worst.
The upper level was as spine-chilling as the lower. There wasn’t supposed to be anything so haunting about this house, but I had a feeling. I ran my hands along the guard rail, trying to steady my trembling body. I revisited the graveyard outside in my thoughts, trying to put reason to the impossible, bare-handed murder of the late night watch. It didn’t make sense. Swamped in my thoughts, I barely caught myself as the rails lurched to the side.
Every muscle in my body sprang into action when the rail tipped. Thankfully it didn’t fall, but I have no doubts that it would have, had I remained. I slowed my quaky breathing, calmed my nerves, and walked on. I turned into what was supposed to be Gallias’ bedroom, to see the outline of my target sitting on the floor, facing me.
My breath caught in my throat at the thought of my own prey waiting for me. This was most unusual, indeed. But did the hunted yell out, or even move toward me in a desperate attempt at self preservation? Not at all. I must have been more horrified than he, for he did absolutely nothing. I moved forward gradually, ready to take off the man’s head if he did so much as laugh. Even with my blade in my right hand, I was still nervous.
I reached out quickly, not hesitating a bit, and grabbed Gallias’ shirt. I hoisted the unmoving one up to my face, struggling for every bit of light. He was quite dead, but I couldn’t be sure for how long he had been so. The blood that painted his face and clothing was still dripping; however his skin was stone cold. I dropped him quickly and ran, giving in to primal instinct.
I made it to the staircase area when a heavy hand grasped my neck and stopped me dead in my tracks. I screamed and flailed, but I found no strength in my limbs. The hand, with surprising power, threw me against the rails.
“No,” I managed to whisper before my descent. He threw me against the wrong spot. The weak spot collapsed, and I sunk with it.
Yikes, what's going on here?! I don't know what's going to happen. Congratulations, you now have one persone who's waiting4the-tension-to-be-lifted. 
Part 4- Coming Home
Every bone in my body was aching, but I managed to stay conscious and alive. I fought to keep my eyes open as my assailant jumped off of the upper floor and landed effortlessly next to my pained body. He leaned over me, observing his victim momentarily.
“You won’t die, nor are you paralyzed,” he assured me. “If you can still talk, which I’m sure you can, you will tell me what I wish to know.”
Discovering my continued gift of speech, I spat out, “And if I choose not to?”
“Trust me. That isn’t in your best interest.” I’m sure he spoke the truth, so I decided to talk.
“Did you kill the man in the bedroom?” was his first question. Idiot, thought I, if you only had some common sense…
“No,” I replied, truthfully. He seemed taken aback at this, but continued his cruel little interrogation.
“If you didn’t kill him, why are you here? And why were you running?”
“Well, if you must know, I was bringing him some cakes,” I shot back sarcastically. The Stranger didn’t seem to like this, so I answered again with the fear of losing fingers.
“I was here to kill him. But, as you can see, that didn’t turn out to well…” He once again looked surprised, but satisfied in the questioning area.
“I’m going to leave you here,” he said “If you make it out before someone else shows up, good for you. If not, well… good evening.” With these last, uncaring words, he left me to die in this nightmare of a house.
Exhaustion eventually overcame me, and I slept for some hours. When I awoke, it was still dark outside, but I thought it to be sometime close to dawn. I was refreshed with a newfound goal: getting home alive. My legs were not broken, though they may as well have been. They were ignited with fires beyond imagining. When I stood up, the pain shot up to my waist. This could be nothing but easy.
Step by step, I pressed on, screaming with pain. I made it out of the doorway, feeling relieved in the brisk air. I staggered past the corpses and to the gate. Once there, I made an interesting discovery: the gate was closed and locked. The Stranger would definitely pay for this.
Above all of the fears, and above all of the sorrows, another fire burned in me. It was one that was related to pain, but not quite. It had a name which some men cower from, and some channel into power. It was called Hate. I was one that would use it for power. Gathering every bit of might left in my body, I bounded off of the ground. Up and over the gates I went, landing on the ground on the other side. The pain was only satiated by my Hate. I still screamed.
I lay on the road for some time, panting and moaning with agony. Finally, I forced myself to stand again and staggered down the road. Halfway to the Imperial City, a large carriage rode past me, causing me to duck in the few remaining shadows. It was only after another half hour of grief that I stumbled back into the City.
Every bone in my body was aching, but I managed to stay conscious and alive. I fought to keep my eyes open as my assailant jumped off of the upper floor and landed effortlessly next to my pained body. He leaned over me, observing his victim momentarily.
“You won’t die, nor are you paralyzed,” he assured me. “If you can still talk, which I’m sure you can, you will tell me what I wish to know.”
Discovering my continued gift of speech, I spat out, “And if I choose not to?”
“Trust me. That isn’t in your best interest.” I’m sure he spoke the truth, so I decided to talk.
“Did you kill the man in the bedroom?” was his first question. Idiot, thought I, if you only had some common sense…
“No,” I replied, truthfully. He seemed taken aback at this, but continued his cruel little interrogation.
“If you didn’t kill him, why are you here? And why were you running?”
“Well, if you must know, I was bringing him some cakes,” I shot back sarcastically. The Stranger didn’t seem to like this, so I answered again with the fear of losing fingers.
“I was here to kill him. But, as you can see, that didn’t turn out to well…” He once again looked surprised, but satisfied in the questioning area.
“I’m going to leave you here,” he said “If you make it out before someone else shows up, good for you. If not, well… good evening.” With these last, uncaring words, he left me to die in this nightmare of a house.
Exhaustion eventually overcame me, and I slept for some hours. When I awoke, it was still dark outside, but I thought it to be sometime close to dawn. I was refreshed with a newfound goal: getting home alive. My legs were not broken, though they may as well have been. They were ignited with fires beyond imagining. When I stood up, the pain shot up to my waist. This could be nothing but easy.
Step by step, I pressed on, screaming with pain. I made it out of the doorway, feeling relieved in the brisk air. I staggered past the corpses and to the gate. Once there, I made an interesting discovery: the gate was closed and locked. The Stranger would definitely pay for this.
Above all of the fears, and above all of the sorrows, another fire burned in me. It was one that was related to pain, but not quite. It had a name which some men cower from, and some channel into power. It was called Hate. I was one that would use it for power. Gathering every bit of might left in my body, I bounded off of the ground. Up and over the gates I went, landing on the ground on the other side. The pain was only satiated by my Hate. I still screamed.
I lay on the road for some time, panting and moaning with agony. Finally, I forced myself to stand again and staggered down the road. Halfway to the Imperial City, a large carriage rode past me, causing me to duck in the few remaining shadows. It was only after another half hour of grief that I stumbled back into the City.
Hope you guys are enjoying this one! Really appreciate the comments 
!
!
Whoever that guy was, he's going to pay. Please write more.
Part 5- Hints of a Conspiracy
I woke up after a deep, pain-induced sleep back in the inn where my equipment was stored. I was dressed in fine bed clothes, I noticed. My assassin’s outfit was folded neatly on my dresser. I felt incredible, better than I had ever been before, in fact. Vercindelle was seated on the other side of my room in a creaky, old chair. He seemed to be bursting with impatience, for he continued to rock back and forth.
“My, my, Vercindelle. All that rocking is going to drive me crazy!” I spoke with mock concern for my sanity. He instantly stood, starting forward, but stopping suddenly.
“No need to worry,” said I, “I won’t die if you come closer. I might feel a little sorer, though…” After I made this sarcastic remark, he ran over to my bedside and exploded with questions.
“What happened? Is everything alright? What took so long?” The Altmer seemed incapable of speaking slowly, calmly, but I tried to answer his questions while retaining my patience.
“Slow down, man. It’s all okay for now,” I said, which almost immediately soothed his fears. I proceeded to tell him what happened, all the while searching his features for the slightest sign of treachery. There were none, of course, and I almost felt a pang of guilt for having suspected my old friend. Still, in my line of work, one can never take chances.
“Who was this… Stranger?” he asked.
“I believe I already mentioned that I haven’t the slightest idea.”
“Well, can you describe him?”
I’ll do my best,” I replied, trying to bring back the memory. “He had darker skin, so he must have been a Redguard. The strength and power he wielded also signaled his race. Brown hair… he had brown hair, quite long. I couldn’t see his eyes, though I could make out quite the scar across one of them. He was hooded, as well, so most of his face was darkened,” I said.
“That’s all? You were waylaid by one alone?” he asked, expressing disbelief.
“There was another that I met in combat before I entered the house, but she is dead now.”
“Is she? You’re positive?” When Vercindelle mentioned this, I realized that I hadn’t seen the Thing when I had left Gallias’ home. That didn’t mean she was still alive, of course. It must have been a fact I merely overlooked.
“Yes… I’m sure. But regardless of the two…”
“No, Mabriel,” he interrupted, “this is no time to change the subject! Someone is onto us. I made sure that the only people who knew of this mission were the two of us and Geryss.” Thankfully the Breton was not in the room with us.
“Are you suggesting that Geryss did this? That maybe he set this up some how?” I asked, feeling bitter that my mental adversary would resort to such low tactics.
“I don’t know, Mabriel. All I know is that this is not going right.”
“You said yourself that there would be risks, Vercindelle.”
“I know, but suddenly, this is so much more dangerous than before,” he said, and walked out of my room in his own cryptic, but typical fashion.
Once the door scraped shut, I took the silent moments to reflect on my present situation. I had my doubts that Geryss would sell the Dark Brotherhood out. Perhaps we were unspoken foes, but I find that adversity is little cause for such rash measures. Still, the thought stayed fresh in my mind. The Breton assassin could have easily sent that Thing after me. Why he would, I know not, even to this day. The Stranger, on the other hand, was a different story.
He seemed to wish to prevent the killing, but, when faced with his failure, left me to die. Surely, if the Breton had also sent the Stranger to get in my way, I would have been dead. It made no sense for Geryss to send the Redguard after me, only to let me live. However, nothing at the moment made sense. The great expanse of possibilities made my head swim. I decided to sleep it off.
I awoke alone. No Vercindelle waiting for my safe return to consciousness. No Geryss with a blade to my throat. The Stranger wasn’t even there, waiting to interrogate me again. I slid my feet to the cold, rough floor and made my way to the closet. Thankfully, I was given street clothes. I had no intention of murdering anyone tonight, for I knew from experience that I required rest and relaxation. A day at the pub would do.
I woke up after a deep, pain-induced sleep back in the inn where my equipment was stored. I was dressed in fine bed clothes, I noticed. My assassin’s outfit was folded neatly on my dresser. I felt incredible, better than I had ever been before, in fact. Vercindelle was seated on the other side of my room in a creaky, old chair. He seemed to be bursting with impatience, for he continued to rock back and forth.
“My, my, Vercindelle. All that rocking is going to drive me crazy!” I spoke with mock concern for my sanity. He instantly stood, starting forward, but stopping suddenly.
“No need to worry,” said I, “I won’t die if you come closer. I might feel a little sorer, though…” After I made this sarcastic remark, he ran over to my bedside and exploded with questions.
“What happened? Is everything alright? What took so long?” The Altmer seemed incapable of speaking slowly, calmly, but I tried to answer his questions while retaining my patience.
“Slow down, man. It’s all okay for now,” I said, which almost immediately soothed his fears. I proceeded to tell him what happened, all the while searching his features for the slightest sign of treachery. There were none, of course, and I almost felt a pang of guilt for having suspected my old friend. Still, in my line of work, one can never take chances.
“Who was this… Stranger?” he asked.
“I believe I already mentioned that I haven’t the slightest idea.”
“Well, can you describe him?”
I’ll do my best,” I replied, trying to bring back the memory. “He had darker skin, so he must have been a Redguard. The strength and power he wielded also signaled his race. Brown hair… he had brown hair, quite long. I couldn’t see his eyes, though I could make out quite the scar across one of them. He was hooded, as well, so most of his face was darkened,” I said.
“That’s all? You were waylaid by one alone?” he asked, expressing disbelief.
“There was another that I met in combat before I entered the house, but she is dead now.”
“Is she? You’re positive?” When Vercindelle mentioned this, I realized that I hadn’t seen the Thing when I had left Gallias’ home. That didn’t mean she was still alive, of course. It must have been a fact I merely overlooked.
“Yes… I’m sure. But regardless of the two…”
“No, Mabriel,” he interrupted, “this is no time to change the subject! Someone is onto us. I made sure that the only people who knew of this mission were the two of us and Geryss.” Thankfully the Breton was not in the room with us.
“Are you suggesting that Geryss did this? That maybe he set this up some how?” I asked, feeling bitter that my mental adversary would resort to such low tactics.
“I don’t know, Mabriel. All I know is that this is not going right.”
“You said yourself that there would be risks, Vercindelle.”
“I know, but suddenly, this is so much more dangerous than before,” he said, and walked out of my room in his own cryptic, but typical fashion.
Once the door scraped shut, I took the silent moments to reflect on my present situation. I had my doubts that Geryss would sell the Dark Brotherhood out. Perhaps we were unspoken foes, but I find that adversity is little cause for such rash measures. Still, the thought stayed fresh in my mind. The Breton assassin could have easily sent that Thing after me. Why he would, I know not, even to this day. The Stranger, on the other hand, was a different story.
He seemed to wish to prevent the killing, but, when faced with his failure, left me to die. Surely, if the Breton had also sent the Stranger to get in my way, I would have been dead. It made no sense for Geryss to send the Redguard after me, only to let me live. However, nothing at the moment made sense. The great expanse of possibilities made my head swim. I decided to sleep it off.
I awoke alone. No Vercindelle waiting for my safe return to consciousness. No Geryss with a blade to my throat. The Stranger wasn’t even there, waiting to interrogate me again. I slid my feet to the cold, rough floor and made my way to the closet. Thankfully, I was given street clothes. I had no intention of murdering anyone tonight, for I knew from experience that I required rest and relaxation. A day at the pub would do.
these are really good please continue (sorry about the short post but thats all i have to say)
I have to agree with 1234. Not too much to say but great work once again and please hurry with your next installment.
And a third to confirm it, this is some good stuff so please give us an update someday.
Part 6- Evil's Dawn
The Leaping Lion was no more energetic than the day before, but certainly no less. Thankfully, Minjer, the disfigured Bosmer, was nowhere to be seen. I imagined that he must have done away with ale, fearing that his next barroom encounter could be his last. Therefore, I enjoyed my drinks in peace.
With Vercindelle, having strong connections with those who owned the Leaping Lion, all of my drinks were free. I delighted in this bonus, and used it to its full extent. I quietly nursed a mug of the finest ale the tavern served, trying to forget the events of the past evening. But, in spite of my attempts, the memories resurfaced.
The very presence of the Redguard Stranger disturbed me to no end. He seemed to not favor any faction, but was at the Gallias estate in relation to his own agenda. What his agenda was, I knew not. I have said before that he had no wish to end my life after he learned that Dante Gallias was long gone. That pointed out that he obviously was not another assassin. Then what was he? was the overbearing question in my head. Was he really in league with Geryss? But, if so, that conflicted with my continued existence. Was he somehow connected with the presence of the Thing?
This seemed to be the only sensible option. Were Geryss to attempt to do me in, surely he would have done it himself. But if the Thing and the Stranger had been there together… No, this was indeed not a sensible option. The Thing seemed to be there to kill, and the Stranger was there to protect, or so I thought. If they had both been there to save Gallias’ life, the senseless killing of the night watch would ultimately defeat the purpose.
Footsteps. Oh no, was my first thought, he’s here. By “he”, of course, my alcohol-driven brain meant “Mehrunes Dagon.” Perhaps, in the midst of the drunken chaos that was my brain, I must have slipped into a hallucination. Perhaps, or perhaps not. The Daedra have strange ways of communicating to us mortals, this much is true. The roar of the Leaping Lion slowly dulled out to make way for the soft patter of footsteps. Bare feet were walking across the wooden floor towards me. The commotion stopped altogether. Not a soul moved or breathed, yet no one screamed in alarm, either. I glanced to my side and saw several Nords engaged in a frozen conversation. The busy flow of time ceased to move, and the only thing alive was me. And these footsteps.
They grew louder with every passing second, or the equivalent of a second in frozen time. My heart started beating faster and faster. Sweat formed all across my body. I almost felt my pupils gradually expanding. One feeling swept over me, a universal dread. A fear of the greatest proportions. Perhaps I was to die? Regardless, I was terrified.
I stood and turned, facing my nightmare. A girl, it was. A small girl. She was dressed in rags, if one can even call them that. Her face was emotionless, devoid of any feeling. Her eyes, however, were alive. They were such lovely colors: red for one, blue for another. She reached forward, so very carefully, with pale hands. My body trembled from top to bottom. Completely controlled by some foreign power, my hands reached out for hers. Our hands touched; darkness sprang forth.
The Leaping Lion was no more energetic than the day before, but certainly no less. Thankfully, Minjer, the disfigured Bosmer, was nowhere to be seen. I imagined that he must have done away with ale, fearing that his next barroom encounter could be his last. Therefore, I enjoyed my drinks in peace.
With Vercindelle, having strong connections with those who owned the Leaping Lion, all of my drinks were free. I delighted in this bonus, and used it to its full extent. I quietly nursed a mug of the finest ale the tavern served, trying to forget the events of the past evening. But, in spite of my attempts, the memories resurfaced.
The very presence of the Redguard Stranger disturbed me to no end. He seemed to not favor any faction, but was at the Gallias estate in relation to his own agenda. What his agenda was, I knew not. I have said before that he had no wish to end my life after he learned that Dante Gallias was long gone. That pointed out that he obviously was not another assassin. Then what was he? was the overbearing question in my head. Was he really in league with Geryss? But, if so, that conflicted with my continued existence. Was he somehow connected with the presence of the Thing?
This seemed to be the only sensible option. Were Geryss to attempt to do me in, surely he would have done it himself. But if the Thing and the Stranger had been there together… No, this was indeed not a sensible option. The Thing seemed to be there to kill, and the Stranger was there to protect, or so I thought. If they had both been there to save Gallias’ life, the senseless killing of the night watch would ultimately defeat the purpose.
Footsteps. Oh no, was my first thought, he’s here. By “he”, of course, my alcohol-driven brain meant “Mehrunes Dagon.” Perhaps, in the midst of the drunken chaos that was my brain, I must have slipped into a hallucination. Perhaps, or perhaps not. The Daedra have strange ways of communicating to us mortals, this much is true. The roar of the Leaping Lion slowly dulled out to make way for the soft patter of footsteps. Bare feet were walking across the wooden floor towards me. The commotion stopped altogether. Not a soul moved or breathed, yet no one screamed in alarm, either. I glanced to my side and saw several Nords engaged in a frozen conversation. The busy flow of time ceased to move, and the only thing alive was me. And these footsteps.
They grew louder with every passing second, or the equivalent of a second in frozen time. My heart started beating faster and faster. Sweat formed all across my body. I almost felt my pupils gradually expanding. One feeling swept over me, a universal dread. A fear of the greatest proportions. Perhaps I was to die? Regardless, I was terrified.
I stood and turned, facing my nightmare. A girl, it was. A small girl. She was dressed in rags, if one can even call them that. Her face was emotionless, devoid of any feeling. Her eyes, however, were alive. They were such lovely colors: red for one, blue for another. She reached forward, so very carefully, with pale hands. My body trembled from top to bottom. Completely controlled by some foreign power, my hands reached out for hers. Our hands touched; darkness sprang forth.
Woah 
Very well written. I could not stop until it was finished. It even sent a chill down my spine. Keep up the great work.
Very well written. I could not stop until it was finished. It even sent a chill down my spine. Keep up the great work.
Please don't stop, there are tons of questions I would like to be answered. Such as what is going on between our asassin and that girl. This is a great story.
Each new post brings many new mysteries, and solves very few. This story just keeps getting more intriguing. I suspect that we have not seen the last of the "Thing," but I guess I'll just have to wait to find out. Keep up the great work.
I'm finished with Chapter 3, but here is the link to chapter 4.
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