Alas, I couldn't wait for Agent to finish before I began my next story. Oh, curse me, all of you whose blood shall be spilled before this story comes to an end.

Ahem, I don't expect my loyal readers to complain though. Heh, I hope I managed to portray the first of my main characters nicely. And one last thing that might be interesting to know. This story takes place before the birth of Luper. So yes, that means at least 23 years before any of my other stories. Now, without further stalling I present:


Corrupted heart.

Chapter 1: Among the cold dirt, the fallen lie.

Consciousness flickered, remaining just out of reach. His senses delivered their messages to his clouded mind, broken fragments of a greater whole. The sound of heavy boots hammering cold rock, the smell of dust in his nose, the feeling of being carried in a boneshattering grip. A taste, plaguing the tip of his tongue. Blood, his blood.

The feeling of movement stopped. Words now echoed in his ears, words he did not comprehend.
,,This looks good enough. Open the door.” The shriek of rusted metal being moved ripped through the haze clouding his mind. Now consciousness returned fully and with it, a chance. For a moment, he continued to feign unconsciousness. Long enough to hear more words, words not meant for him.
,,You, don’t move unless you want even greater problems.” The hands holding him pushed him along. His tail brushed against iron bars. Now was the time.

With the frightening grace of a natural killer, his muscles sprang back to full readiness. He used the body of his captor to swing around, somersaulting into the air and landing on the unfortunate man’s back. With a quick swipe, claws ripped out the man’s throat and crushed his neck. Even before the man began to lose his signs of life, the killer had leapt away. The next guard found himself smashed against the iron bars of the cell. Claws leaving a trail of blood in the air where the last thing the man saw before his eyes were removed. He too died soon afterwards. The whole event had taken less than a second from start to finish.

Breathing heavily from both his exertion and the rough treatment he’d received earlier, the killer stared down at his latest victims. In a slow symbolic movement, he raised his claws and licked them clean of blood, savouring the taste. His ears began to pick up the sound of distant boots coming steadily closer. A standard patrol. His hand snatched the nearby torch from the wall and he slammed the piece of wood into a dusty pool of water. There was a large cloud of smoke and then, darkness.

Even though there was practically no light left, his eyes still saw as good as if he was standing outside on a clear day. He quickly scanned the nearby cells. The one which had been destined for him was already occupied by the short stature of a Bosmer. The one directly on the opposite side of the tunnel was occupied by a muscular Dunmer who looked around warily, not seeing a thing. The killer took a double take on the two beings. While the Dunmer displayed all the expected signs of fear, the Bosmer surprisingly acted as if she hadn’t noticed the massacre at all. She just looked at the ground in front of her bare feet with a blank stare.
,,Must have lost its mind so deep underground.” The Killer concluded. He knew from experience that many Bosmer were extremely claustrophobic and hated being in a room without any windows or underground. A natural result from living in the treetops of Valenwood.

The boots had now gotten close. Soon, the owner of these boots would see the darkness ahead and know that something was wrong. By then though, it would be too late. The Killer crouched at the edge of the darkness, confident in the natural camouflage he had. Now the guard ventured into view and the killer’s heart skipped a beat. This was no guard. The fingers of fear reached out for him, embracing him with their cold touch. It was a feeling he hadn’t felt since childhood. The darkness in the tunnel was vanquished by a bright burst of light. With that same burst, the light in his eyes faded and he slipped into unconsciousness once more.

An armoured boot stomped on the ground beside his head.
,,You’ve missed your chance. Enjoy the blood you’ve claimed. They were your last kill.” A gruff voice said as the killer was picked up and taken to his cell.

Nice beginning Jack, that sounds a lot like the Imperial Prison....... I would be right to assume the main character is a Khajiit? Anyway, can't wait for more, Cloudy!

Wow, your use of description has left me stunned, jack. The viscious intent by our Killer here could certainly give a crazed Simion a run for his money. I have a feeling this story is going to be a bit darker than your previous work.

I look forward to seeing more of this. Most definitely!

Yup, it's the Imperial prison alright. Hey, I'm just following TES tradition here. Start in jail. It's a good place for our Killer to develop a serious grudge against the ones who imprisoned him. As if he wasn't bad enough without one.

Let's just say that I wanted to play around with a character for once who wasn't a loud, happy grinning good guy. I want to play with a nastier character for once. Really nasty. I do have to admit though, Simion has been good inspiration so I thank you for that, Mallet.



The cell was silent safe for his own loud breathing. A sharp pain stabbed into his chest every time he inhaled the damp air. The pain was distracting and he tried to bend over. He failed, having been chained to the wall like a trophy. He took smaller breaths now, keeping the movements of his chest to a minimum.
,,Broken rib, not serious.” He noted and began the painful task of checking each limb for injury.
,,Left arm, scraped against a rough surface. Some damage to the skin and fur. Right arm is fine. Right leg, a sprained ankle. Left leg, multiple fractures. That one needs to be set.”

He opened his eyes slowly. The torch had been replaced and its flickering light cast dark shadows on the walls. Even though he did not like the thought, he knew he needed help in his current condition. The bones in his left leg needed to be set and locked into place somehow or he would never walk again, not without a limp. There was only one person around who could help him. He tried moving his head, only to find out that even his neck had been chained to the wall. Clearly, the guards were no longer willing to take any chances with him. He had to admit to himself that he gave them plenty of reason to fear.
,,First, breaking into one of the most secure locations in the whole Empire. Then, my first escape which resulted in the death of five guards. My second escape, two more. When I get out of here, I need to find myself a new identity, a change of face. I’ll have the greatest death warrant in the century on me and that says quite a bit.”

His chest no longer hurt, only feeling numb. It was as they said, a man could get used to anything. Even pain.
,,Elf!” He hissed and squeezed his eyes shut when the pain returned for a short moment.
,,Elf!” He tried again. It was then that he realized that he wasn’t sure he was still in the same cell. Prisons all looked alike to a newcomer and had never gotten a chance to find any unique features in the walls like a peculiar crack in the stone. Finally, after what felt like eternity, a dirtcovered face appeared before him.
,,What?” The Bosmer whispered slowly, a hint of barely suppressed panic in her voice. Claustrophobia indeed.

The two stared at each other in a long moment of silence. Khajiit and Bosmer, both mortal enemies if they had met anywhere else.
,,My leg needs to be set.” The Khajiit explained slowly, trying to make his words get through the barrier of fear.
,,Why?” He bit back an angry retort. Even in this place, he needed to remember the distrust and outright hate between the Bosmer and the Khajiit.
,,Because I need it when I escape. If you do it, I’ll lead you out as well. Just set the leg already.” He offered, knowing that any promise he made was empty of meaning. He would escape, but he would not offer any help to his fellow prisoner. It was not in his nature to aid people.

He didn’t utter a sound during the whole process, not even when his bones were twisted around back into their natural position or when a sleeve of his prison uniform was tied around the leg so tight it nearly cut off the bloodflow. He had been wounded before. He was used to painful treatments.
,,So, how exactly do you plan on getting out of here?” The Bosmer asked him once she was done. Her voice was calmer now that she had a companion who was not frightened by the walls that appeared to move closer in the dancing shadows.
,,When three weeks and two days have passed, I will make my move.” He answered.
,,Mark my words and count the days till my escape. You will die then, elf. No one ever escapes from me, especially not then.”

He appreciated the silence between them. It allowed him to ease his mind and prepare for the coming ordeal. He’d been trapped before, he’d been chained before, he’d even been impaled upon a spear for a full day once. He’d never been chained for three weeks. It would be a test of patience as well as a test of trust. He still needed the Bosmer. She was the only one who could feed now that he couldn’t feed himself.
,,Next time, I’ll avoid all confrontations. No more killing of guards even though that is the easy path. I must not raise any alarm till I’m gone. When the time comes, I need to be alert and prepared to deal with any unknown factor. Like the Dunmer in the opposite cell. He might shout for help when I escape. I’ll have to silence him.”

Hey! No problem! The character you have here does seem quite nasty so far, all ready revealing that he's just using the Bosmer to further his escape plan. I'm digging it so far.

Wow, I just can't stop. I promise I'll get an Agent update tomorrow but today I'm going to postmachine the heart. Enjoy.



The first few days passed agonizingly slow though he soon got used to his situation. Every day, the Bosmer would feed him his portion of what was called food here. The grey substance filled his stomach but left a gruesome taste in his mouth. With little to do but wait, he spent his time with observing the times between patrols. He also struggled against his shackles for several hours each day. Not because he had the vain hope of actually breaking free from the wall, but because he needed to keep himself into shape.

All this time, he heard not a single word from the Dunmer in the opposite cell which was cause for some slight frustration. How could he analyze the man if he couldn’t hear or see the him? What was more worrying though, was the Bosmer. She’d slowly but surely recovered from a mental wreck back into a living being. With that came awareness. With awareness, came questions he couldn’t answer.
,,Why thirteen days? What’s so special then?” She asked him one day. That was his first clue that keeping the elf on a leash would not be as easy as he’d thought.
,,The two eyes are in the right position then. It brings good luck if you make your daring escape at that moment.” He answered slyly, hiding the truth behind a slight lie. It would bring luck if he escaped then, though not in a way she would expect.

The Bosmer concluded it was some strange religious Khajiit thing and didn’t probe any further, much to his relief. He managed to escape from other questions in the same way though his worries increased each time. He needed to keep her from knowing for eleven more days.

Six days before his escape, the routine was broken. The servant who brought their food each day also left a note and a bottle filled with a brown liquid. Even though the bottle was still sealed, the Khajiit’s nose picked up the scent of its contents. His ears reared back and he bared his fangs. Poison. The Bosmer did not know it yet. She picked up the note and began to read. Then she began to sob and a few tears rolled down her cheeks. When she looked at him, he saw sadness, despair and most important of all, anger. He’d lost his grip on the elf.
,,You didn’t told me you were a murderer!” She screamed at him. The loud sound caused the rats to flee. The Khajiit looked at her with emotionless eyes.
,,If you’d bothered to actually look around you instead of sheltering in your own nightmare, you would have seen how I’d slain two guards just a few steps away from your feet.” He sneered.
,,Now, I suppose they’ve decided to kill me by letting you shove that poison down my throat?” He growled. To his surprise, the Bosmer shook her head.
,,No, the poison is for me.” She said slowly in a slightly surprised tone.
,,This is a disgrace! I refuse to die by poison. I will not suffer a coward’s death!” It was the first time he’d heard the Dunmer though he’d lost all interest in the man.

,,For you?” The Khajiit blurted out.
,,Yes, for me and for the Dunmer. They don’t want to take any chances with you so the whole cellblock is being abandoned and forgotten. With the poison, we won’t have to starve to death. That’s your fate.” She told him with a trembling voice. The panic was about to return.
,,I wasn’t supposed to die in here! I was supposed to get out in two months and return home to Valenwood! I hate you furballs!” The khajiit hissed slightly when a fist was driven into his stomach.
,,You’re going to pay for that. I’ll tear out your guts and force you to eat them. No one escapes me.” He threatened.

The Bosmer laughed.
,,How are you going to do that, you’re tied to the wall? Oh, since we’re all going to die, I’m going to have some fun first.” She threatened him in return. She then reached out and with a vicious yank, she pulled out one of his whiskers.
,,That’s one. Five more. And after that, who knows?”

Half an hour later, he felt as if an Orc had danced on him. The Bosmer wasn’t strong but given enough time and no way to fight back, even she could totally beat him into a pulp. Fortunately she wasn’t strong enough to break his bones. The torture had altered his plans, turning them into a more gruesome form. He’d been tortured before and the only thing his torturers had gained was a less pleasant death than he’d initially planned. This would be no different.

She was now sitting on the ground somewhere out of sight. There were sounds of an unknown activity.
,,What are you doing, making a new tool of torture? With each strike, you only make sure your fate gets more painful.” He warned ominously.
,,Oh, shut up before I decide to use you as target practice.” The Bosmer snapped back.
,,I’m not going to poison myself until I’m absolutely sure there is no way to get out of here. In the meantime, I’m building what’s got to be the crappiest bow ever so I can hunt those rats. The ingredients, some guy’s rib and six whiskers.” She continued, emphasizing the word 'whiskers'.

When she was done, she crouched down near the bars. She began to make strange squeaking sounds. The Khajiit pressed his ears flat against his head.
,,Stop that, it’s annoying.” He growled. The squeaking changed tone. He was about to give another warning when he realized it was no longer the Bosmer who was squeaking. At least half a dozen rats had gathered around her. They all sat as if hypnotized, calmly awaiting their fate.
,,Sorry, but a girl’s gotta eat, you know?” She whispered as she pierced one of the rats with a fork used as an improvised arrow. The other rats didn’t move but waited till it was their turn to die. The Khajiit stared at the scene, his anger forgotten.
,,So the stories are true. Those wood elves can talk to animals.”

The anger returned when he saw how she threw three of the rats to the Dunmer’s cell and kept the other three for herself. She wouldn’t give anything to him. He bared his fangs but did not utter a sound.
,,Let her think I’m beaten. I’ll escape and when I do, no quick painless death for her!”

You would think they would just relocate the prisoners that are in the same block as our assassin instead of allowing them to poison themselves. I guess it's that full in the Imperial Prison.

Hopefully our kitty is a plump one or else he's going to be quite weak when he makes his escape attempt. I fear for those around him when he does escape (surely he will, he is a main character, right?).

The point is, they would relocate. Only, the prison has recently come under new management.
And someone asked for an escape?




Six more days passed. The Khajiit realized that within a few hours, he would put his plans into action. He felt excited at the idea of spilling the blood of his victims. Vengeance would be his. He felt weak from lack of food, but that would not matter. Soon, he could feed as much as he liked. The lone torch had long since burned out, allowing darkness to claim his world. He licked his teeth in anticipation of what was to come. Then, he heard it. Bad fitting boots, running, coming closer. Light returned, coming from a moving torch that rapidly drew closer. He looked expectantly at the celldoor. Who would come here?

It was a young man, dressed in a mismatched set of Iron plates. He held a torch in one hand and a sword in the other. Wet blood dripped from the rusty blade. He stopped, and looked at the two cells in turn.
,,Who are you? Were you thrown in here by the traitor as well?” He asked, his face revealing his anger.
,,The Bosmer and I have fallen victim of bad people. Are you here to free us?” The Dunmer asked. As he approached the bars of his cell, the torchlight revealed countless scars on his bare chest. The young man peered into his crimson eyes where they found the truth.
,,Fine, I’ll free you. What about the Khajiit?”

,,That furball from Oblivion? He’s the whole cause of our current trouble. He kills people for fun! Let him rot.” The Bosmer shouted. The man winced.
,,Shh! Not so loud, they’ll hear!” He whispered urgently, looking around nervously. The Khajiit growled.
,,So you all plan to leave me here? Well, I suppose there is no harm in telling you now.” He snarled, looking at the Bosmer.
,,I never planned on letting you live. Right from the first moment, your fate had been sealed together with the other elf. Now though, it will be much worse than I’d initially planned. And you, Imperial. You’ll join them.”

The Imperial ignored the threats. He pressed his hand against the lock. There was a purple light and then a click after which the door slid open. He repeated the spell at the other cell. Both elves walked out quickly after which the man locked the cell that still contained the Khajiit.
,,Your threats are without power.” He claimed. All three of them walked out of his sight. Darkness filled his cell again. Within it, he laughed. It was a loud laugh, the laugh of someone who knew that he had everything under control.

Where the three escapees were walking, the laugh had died down to a faint whisper in the air.
,,We haven’t been properly introduced. May I have your names?” The Imperial whispered as he cautiously looked around a corner.
,,Rajn Treesap, Valenwood guide.” The Bosmer whispered back.
,,Aran Geydar, Urshilaku.” The Dunmer replied with a voice like gravel. The Imperial nodded with a wry grin.
,,I’m sorry about this but it is for your own safety that you should not know my name. You may call me the Champion. I am a loyal battlemage in the service of Uriel Septim VII. It is because of him that I’m here with you now.” He said as they moved on further till the tunnel branched into two directions.
,,And here is where we must part. There are multiple ways to the surface, try to find one. I’m their main target, so the resistance you’ll encounter should be light.” He explained as he looked in both directions.
,,Here, sir Geydar. Take my blade. Use it to defend yourselves. I’ll use my Magicka till I can claim a new blade from the foul beasts that inhabit this place. Now, farewell. May Stendarr protect you.” With those words, the battlemage walked away.

Aran and Rajn watched him go. Then, Aran pointed at the other corridor with his new blade.
,,Shall we? Long have I missed the sun. I shall do anything to see the light again.”

Back at the Khajiit’s cell, the laughing had stopped. Now he was merely waiting. He could feel it, the itching of his skin. His eyes shot open, staring blankly into the darkness. His mouth opened, letting out a roar. His muscles swelled, his bones grew. His face grew a long snout with razorsharp fangs. His claws doubled in length, digging deep into the stone wall he was chained to. His tail became like a brush, his once smooth fur taking on a spiked appearance. Then, the transformation was complete. He sniffed the air, smelling more than ever before.

He began to pull against his shackles. Slowly, the iron began to deform under his newfound strength. With a loud clang of snapping metal, he pulled his right arm free from his prison. He reached up and tore away the ring around his neck. One by one, his chains were torn out of the wall and removed. Now he was free and walked over towards the celldoor. Seemingly without any effort, he bent the bars and opened a gap wide enough for him to pass.
,,The Hunter has called his minion to this world. Let the hunt begin.” He thought as he rushed through the tunnels at incredible speeds. Sometimes he paused to sniff the air like an animal. Then he would rush off again, following the trail.

The Champion stopped when he heard the sound of padded feet rumbling on the floor. Cold sweat broke out when a terrifying howl echoed in his ears. He turned around, raising his hand to ward off his foe. Before him, a monster nearly as big as the corridor stood on all fours. Two golden eyes looked out over a large snout covered in fur as black as the night that spawned the creature.
,,Werewolf! Cursed abomination! Leave quickly or suffer death!” The champion shouted as a mighty spell of destruction charged in his hand. The Werewolf threw back its head and laughed.
,,What makes you think you will survive this encounter?” It asked with a malicious voice. The Champion swallowed back his fear and gave a silent prayer to the Nine for protection.
,,It has been prophesized. I can’t die here.” He answered. The Werewolf looked at the man in silent contemplation.

,,Why do you need to live?” It asked next, watching the still growing spell closely.
,,I am to travel Tamriel, collect the eight…” The Champion was cut off when a descending gate crushed his skull. With his death, the spell erupted, wrapping his corpse in hot flames.
,,The eight what? Your eight last words? Travel no more, you’ve found them.” The Werewolf snickered as it removed its paw from the lever controlling the gate.
,,Stupid self-proclaimed heroes. They never pay attention to their surroundings. At least they’re filling.” After having said those words, the Werewolf stepped up to the corpse and sank its fangs into the charred flesh.




Note: If you actually decided to count, the Champion did say eight final words! And yes, I'm poking a bit of fun at the hero escaping out of jail thing. I mean, do they really expect a hero to escape like that? That's probably why I like Morrowind's start. You can become a hero, but no one expects you fight your way out of a dungeon filled with monsters right from the start.

Haha! What delcious update, jack. So it looks like our assassin is a Were... wolf?.... cat? Werecreature! There we go! I'll go with that one.

Anyways, so it seems that our assassin is a Werecreature, and quite a powerful, and cunning one at that. I also liked how the hero convieneantly cooked himself as well. That was great!

I don't want to ruin anything, but I must ask; is this set during the Imperial Simulacrum (aka Jagar Tharn time)?

Excellent update, Jack. That khajiit is crazy dangerous...

Excellent! Yes, I likie the story already, and will be following this quite closely. I dunno, i'm pretty light in RL, so my interests are pretty dark in Fake...life?....Great, I just had a Mallet Moment...

I won't have much time tomorrow but I'll try to work on Agent then if possible and hopefully make a better update. The last one was a bit short and crappy in my opinion. Ok, more Corrupted Heart stuff.




The two elves heard the Werewolf’s howl. Aran waited while the Bosmer stared at the wall.
,,You can see through walls?” He asked curiously. Rajn shrugged.
,,I’m a Tower so, a bit. It’s all blurry to be honest, I wouldn’t trust myself with an arrow if I could only use this mental vision. Umm, lots of stuff moving around. One big….dog? It’s eating.” She said while watching the scene beyond the wall. Aran frowned.
,,Big dog? Who keeps dogs in a prison?” He wondered aloud.
,,Oh, not just dogs. Giant rats, goblins, big worms, living skeletons and other stuff that scares me. Exactly what happened since I got thrown in here? There were only little rats and guards when I arrived. I’m quite sure of that. It was before I went completely wacko.”

The Dunmer’s frown grew bigger.
,,Necromancy. Dark powers are at play here. We must hurry.” He urged and began to move again, faster this time.
,,If you can see through walls, then do you see the exit?” He asked with the calm voice of someone who was used to danger.
,,Take the first corridor on your right.” Rajn answered, struggling to keep up with the man.

The Werewolf slowed down as he rounded another corner. The path to his prey was blocked by a pack of small green humanoids.
,,Goblins. A Stinking nuisance.” The werewolf let out a roar and watched with satisfaction how the creatures ran away. Suddenly, an arm lashed out from the shadows and gripped one of the little green monsters. There was a scream and then the goblin’s neck was snapped like a twig by its killer. When it stepped into view, the Werewolf stepped back and growled.
,,Zombie. This is not your average prison. Not at all. I’ll be slowed down like this.”The black beast lunged at its undead foe, throwing it into a wall with its great strength. When the undead construct finally managed to crawl back onto its feet, the Werewolf was already out of sight.
,,I would love to stay around and tear that thing into little pieces but I’ve got work to do. No one can pull out my whiskers without paying in blood.”

Both elves were stopped death in their tracks by another group of Goblins. Aran took a short glance at the improvised bow the Bosmer was wielding.
,,Can you shoot bigger prey than rats with that thing?” He asked with a sour grin.
,,No, but I can club them over the head when they’re not looking.” The two looked at each other and nodded simultaneously.

,,I am Aran Geydar, Urshilaku! Fear my blade!” The Dunmer shouted as he waded in. He stabbed his sword into a goblin’s chest and used his foot to pull the blade free. Already, the other Goblins had begun to surround him. He grit his teeth when the first club descended on his unprotected back. He had three Goblins in front of him so he couldn’t afford to deal with the one behind him. In an attempt to finish the fight quickly, he jumped forward and tackled the three Goblins to the ground. A few quick stabs later, and he was sitting on a pile of stinking Goblin corpses.

,,Now the one behind me.” Aran thought and scrambled back on his heels to deal with the remaining Goblin. A hard hit on his leg sent him to the floor and another against the back of his head caused him to black out for a short moment. He rolled over on his back and spat the Goblin in the face. The dumb creature stared at the Dunmer in surprise for a second before raising its club high above its head with an angry snarl. Aran couldn’t help but chuckle at seeing the Goblin’s eyes grow big with confusion. The chuckle turned into full laughter when the Goblin turned around to see where its club had suddenly gone.
,,Go, doggy. Fetch the stick!” Rajn yelled and swung the club into the Goblin’s face. The critter fell on the floor, unconscious.

Aran got up carefully and examined his fresh bruises. It hurt a lot but he failed to discover any serious damage.
,,That was that. Let’s get going again. Any longer in this Goblininfested pit and I’ll kill myself.” He said a bit annoyed.
,,And what about me? How am I supposed to get out of here without my strong bodyguard?” The Bosmer replied sarcastically.
,,Just what kind of Emperor lets Goblins into his prison?” She asked herself a moment later.
,,Either a bad one or one who doesn’t know of the Goblins. Probably the latter.” Aran answered.
,,Now be quiet, girl. I want to avoid any further confrontations with who knows what is down here.” He added. There were lit torches on the walls yet the dust and cobwebs told him that no guard had been down here in years. The whole environment gave him a bad feeling like he’d never had before.

The Werewolf sniffed the Goblin corpses he found half an hour later.
,,Their death is recent. So, that means my prey came by here not too long ago. Good, let them fear the hunt.” He let out a howl that echoed throughout the entire prison.
,,I am coming, prepare to die.”

Ah, this prison just gets worse and worse--feels claustrophobic. Very nice.

I hereby rename this prison The Labrithyn of Doom! Beware all those who dare enter!

Looks like our two elves are going to have a tough time ahead of them in escaping....

Yeah, I think I went a bit overboard here. Would the Emperor really have a prison like that? On the other hand, it is the prison for highly dangerous criminals. The Khajiit tried to assassinate the Emperor and even made it inside the bedroom. (as shown by the teaser) Then, he nearly escaped twice, requiring Magicka to be put down. So I'd say he qualifies as dangerous criminal.






Aran never slowed his step when the ghostly sound echoed around them.
,,I don’t think it’s just a big dog.” He said simply. The Bosmer chose not to respond and instead turned her eyes towards where they came from, still running alongside the Dunmer. To her eyes, the walls seemed to become transparent, like glass. She silently looked around till she found what she was looking for.

The dog, or whatever it was, was clearly following them. It didn’t rush but wasn’t slow either. It moved at a constant pace that rivalled theirs, stopping only to sniff the air. What was most worrying to her were how the creature moved. It was almost as if it was….intelligent.
,,I think you’re right. That’s not a dog.” Suddenly she felt a hand on her chest that pushed her back.
,,Didn’t you ever learn to look where you’re walking?” Aran spat at her.
,,I was looking at the dog that’s following us. Why?” She spat back using exactly the same tone.

Aran said nothing but simply pointed at the obstacle in front of them.
,,Whoever thought that placing a bottomless pit with a small bridge in this so-called ‘prison’ would be fun, deserves to die! Is there another way out?” He complained. Rajn calmly moved to the edge and gazed down into the depths.
,,I never quite understand how a bottomless pit is even possible but it is there. You drop and, splat. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights, tough guy.” She teased the former prisoner. Aran scowled.
,,Don’t tell me that you suffer from claustrophobia.” He countered.

,,Hey, that’s mean! You’ll just have to cross that bridge. It’s the only way out and I’m not going to wait for that dog to come and eat us!” Aran did feel a bit bad about the low blow he’d just delivered though he was too proud to admit it.
,,Then you go first.” He merely said. He realized that he was stalling, waiting for some sudden surge of courage.

The Bosmer smiled weakly.
,,I grew up in trees. So I actually feel better about having a bridge in this place. Just you watch.” She said to him and stepped on the bridge. Even for someone of her small stature, the bridge was barely wide enough to stand comfortably. She moved to the center of the bridge where she spun around on one foot and made a few small jumps.
,,Look, it’s not that bad. I can even dance here!”
Aran looked uneasily at the bridge. If the girl’s intention had been to reassure him, she’d failed. In fact, just seeing her do her crazy dance made him feel even worse.

Rajn stopped her dancing and looked at the Dunmer who was staring at the pit. Sweat glistened on his skin. He was frightened as if he’d seen Oblivion itself.
,,Is this how I was?” She asked herself and admitted to herself that that had indeed been the case.
,,Close your eyes and give me your hand, I’ll help you. Trust me.” She finally offered, extending her hand.

Aran swallowed back the lump in his throat.
,,I have to get across. I’m a disgrace for the Urshilaku, showing fear where even a girl shows none. And she’s the one who is nervous just by being underground. Come on Aran, show to your ancestors that like her, you can overcome your fear.” He ordered himself. Closing his eyes, he took the Bosmer’s hand.
,,Good, now take a step forward. Then, once you’ve placed it securely on the floor, you take another one. Nice and easy. There is no pit, no bridge. Just the stone under your feet. And another step please. Good, now open your eyes.” She whispered softly.

Instantly, the fear came back.
,,What, she wants me to open my eyes on the middle of the bridge? I’ll fall if I do that!” He shouted mentally. Then he remembered how she’d asked for him to trust her. He’d already put his trust into her by letting her lead him with his eyes closed. A bit trembling, he opened his eyes and looked around. He’d crossed the bridge and was now standing on the other side.
,,See? Heights are nothing as long as you don’t panic.” Rajn explained to him but ignored her own advise when her eyes widened in panic.
,,Good evening. Can you feel it, the fear? The fear of your death? It will be the last thing you’ll feel. Pray to your gods for mercy if you like. They won’t hear you.” The Werewolf said maliciously from the other side of the bridge.

He raised himself on his hind legs to his full height. Now, he even towered above the Dunmer. Then, in one tremendous leap, he cleared the gap.
,,I’ll enjoy the taste of your blood.” He whispered, baring his teeth.

Uh oh, they're in trouble now. If only our Dunmer friend wasn't afraid of heights. Ohwell, we'll see if they can make it out of this situation.

By the way, I really like the building of the relationship between our two escapees. Very nicely done.

The Werewolf grinned in anticipation. Finally, he would receive revenge for the humiliation he suffered. The two elves he was going to kill here would just mark the beginning of a new day, a day where Cyrodiil would drown in the blood of his enemies.
,,Next time, I won’t fail. I will rip out the foundations of your power and crush it with my bare hands. Then, when fear and despair have filled your soul, I’ll come. I’ll walk into your room, slowly, to feed on your fear. Then, with one swift strike, I’ll cut open your stinking corpse and spread your organs on the floor. I’ll squeeze your heart dry of blood, as the last thing you’ll see in this world.” He gloated. A powerful kick hit him under his snout and threw him backwards, over the edge.
,,Focus! You are not worthy as an opponent!” The Dunmer taunted.

He dug his claws into the walls and came to a screeching halt several metres below the ledge.
,,Fool! Don’t gloat before the kill! If my master had seen this, he would kill me.” He scolded himself. He released his grip on the smooth with one hand and slammed his claws into the rock a bit higher. Repeating the process with his other limbs, he began to ascend.

,,Is it death?” Rajn asked as she moved closer to the ledge to take a look. Aran grabbed her by the arm and dragged her along.
,,No, I don’t think so. So don’t go stare down the ledge unless you want to die.” He grumbled. He stopped upon seeing a grate mounted in the wall. The Dunmer dropped to his knees and looked into it. The grate covered the entrance to a small tunnel. He concluded that he could fit through, barely.
,,This tunnel, is it a shortcut?” He asked his Bosmer companion. Rajn looked at the grate nervously.
,,Yeah, but do we really have to go through there? It’s so cramped!”

Aran took a single look at the ledge which gave him his answer. He grabbed the rusted grate and with an effort of all his strength, he pulled it free.
,,Yes we have to. That furry monster is too big to fit through. Now get in.” He urged as he pushed himself inside. His shoulders scraped agains the walls but he managed to crawl.
,,I won’t have any skin left on my shoulders once we reach the other side.”There wasn’t enough room for him to turn his head around but he knew that he hadn’t been followed.
,,Don’t give in to your fear. Now it is your turn to trust me! Come!” He shouted.

The Bosmer looked at the grate and then at the ledge. A black head came up and bared its teeth as it saw her.
,,Oh, alright.” She squeezed her eyes shut and began to crawl into the tunnel. Aran smiled as he heard the noise behind him. That smile vanished instantly when the girl screamed.
,,What’s wrong?!” He asked with a worried voice.

The Werewolf growled in frustration. His prey had escaped. He reached in with his arm again but failed to reach them. He growled again.
,,So close yet so far. Curse them!” He slammed his shoulder into the wall, sending clouds of dust into the air. A few cracks formed into the rock but it did not fall under his might. He held up his hand and looked at the red liquid dripping from his claws and wetting his fur. His efforts hadn’t been completely without success.
,,I’ll find another path. Next time, I’ll finish the job quickly and efficiently.” He turned away from the small tunnel and was about to renew the chase when a dark figure seemed to materialize out of thin air.
,,So the cat has become a dog of war. An unexpected development, I must say. Still, I can’t allow you to leave this place alive.” The figure spoke with a gruff voice the Werewolf recognized instantly.
,,You!” He howled.

Aran got up on his feet. He felt a bit stiff after his crawl through that cramped tunnel but aside from this stiffness and a few scrapes, he was as healthy as was possible here. He reached down and helped his companion get out herself. At first he was relieved to see that the scream he’d heard was not a sign of death but his worry came back instantly when she collapsed to the floor.
,,What’s wrong, Treesap?” He asked. He received no answer. He didn’t need one. The dark blood covering her leg and the pale bones glistening in the torchlight said more than a thousand words could.
,,Damn that thing and its claws. I need to get her to Erinus, she’ll be able to help.” The Dunmer thought. He tore his shirt to pieces and used the fabric as an improvised bandage to help stop the bleeding. She’d already lost too much blood and couldn’t afford to lose any more. Once he was sure he’d done all he could, he heaved the unconscious Bosmer on his shoulder. The load was lighter than expected.
,,A serious wound while being seriously underfed, not good. Hang in there, you’ll be fine. I promise.”

Temporary refuge from the werewolf. Sounds like they need it. But that wound could be bad, really bad. Hope she doesn't get Sanies Lupinus...

Hmm I'm curious of who this new "mystery" person is. Seems like he holds some sway over our Werewolf, but we'll see.

It also seems that our escapees are getting into more serious problems. Hopefully the Bosmer survives.

Oh yes, and I found that first paragraph to be deliciously descriptive jack. Excellent work!

And a quickie to end today's update.




,,Yes, me.” The figure answered. The Werewolf crouched down and held out his arms. His claws shone in the light of a torch.
,,I won’t let you stop me. Now tell me what you are!” He shouted. The figure chuckled.
,,That’s the right question. Not who, but what. You must have been surprised when I defeated you so easily last time. The answer is simple. I am not from this world and so I do not share your limits.” He replied.

The Werewolf looked at the man. His armour definitely gave him a demonic appearance fitting for a being from another world.
,,Then how about this? No spells. I’ll show you just what my limits are.” The Werewolf challenged. The figure chuckled again.
,,You want to make this more interesting? You do have courage to face me without fear. I will reward you with the honour of knowing my name Ra’trith, embodiment of darkness. Few mortals ever receive this honour. I am Merdrar, a Markynaz.” He spoke and drew a large claymore that looked as demonic as his armour.
,,Now, let us begin. No spells as promised.”

Ra’trith lunged at the man, scraping his claws over the chestplate. The man jumped back surprisingly fast considering the weight of his armour. He swung the claymore in a low arc and forced the Werewolf to retreat towards the bridge.
,,What does a being from another world seek here?” He asked as they both swung at each other once more.
,,My lord has given my strength to a mortal. This mortal is intrigued by your skills and wants to keep you from interfering with his plans. You’ll have to die here, Werewolf.” Merdrar said and stabbed at the black head.

The Werewolf jumped back, landing on the bridge. He grinned upon seeing his opponent’s hesitation.
,,What’s the matter? Are you afraid to fall?” He taunted. The man cut a large gash into the wall.
,,My strength is greater than that of any mere mortal. Yes, but this strength won’t protect me if I came to fall. I’ve made a promise. We Dremora do not break our promises, ever. Fine then, I’ll fight you on the bridge. No spells, so no levitation! One false move, and we’ll plummet into the depths. Prepare yourself!”

The Dremora lunged at Ra’trith. The Werewolf leaned away from the blow and clenched his teeth when the demonic blade cut through his skin. At the same time, he struck out with his claws, tearing off Merdrar’s helmet and carving a long cut across his cheek. The Dremora took a step back and laughed.
,,Good! You’ve challenged me well. Unfortunately, you are weakening.” He said, not showing any pain from his wound. The Werewolf took a step back as well.
,,That face, it looks so similar to an elf or a human. No matter where it’s from, I’ll sent it to Oblivion. I’ll have to do it quick. It won’t last much longer.” He thought to himself.
,,This wound is nothing! It takes more than that to weaken me! Now get ready!” He shouted, his voice echoing around them. To his surprise, the Dremora sheathed his sword and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
,,No, the wound won’t slow you at all. You’ve been quite busy and so you’ve spent Hircine’s gift. The power of the hunter is fading. I can feel it better than you do.” He spoke solemnly.

Just a moment after the Dremora had said that, Ra’trith fell to his knees. His body shrunk, his claws retreated within his paws. The effects of his exertion hit him fully, draining all of his strength.
,,And so, the dog of war turns back into a miserable cat.” Merdrar gloated. The Khajiit glared at him.
,,A cat is a hunter as well, a hunter of a different kind.” He whispered. Using all of his remaining energy, he leaped up into the air with an agility his Werewolf form did not possess. He wrapped his tail around the Dremora’s throat and used his momentum to bring the being out of balance. He landed behind Merdrar and kicked at his legs. The man tripped and fell from the bridge. For a timeless moment, the two looked each other in the eyes.
,,I salute you! You have been a worthy challenge! Perhaps we shall meet again!” Were the last words the being from Oblivion said as it vanished into the depths. Ra’trith crawled across the bridge and lay down on the floor, exhausted like he’d never been before.
,,Odd creature, to congratulate the one who beat it. And why did it raise the possibility of another meeting? Nothing can survive a fall that great. Wait, it must be hiding out of sight, levitating. I must hide and recover my strength for when we clash again. The hunt has come to an end, for now.”

Aran bowed his head when he saw the sun for the first time since his imprisonment. Already, the memory of the dark tunnels began to fade. He would think about the dark powers whose actions he’d witnessed. Though that would be later, not now.
,,We made it. I never thought I would see the sun again. Yes, death will not be our fate. Do you hear me? I’ll take you to a friend of mine. She’s taken care of my wounds countless times before. She’ll take care of yours.” He whispered and set off towards the spectacular tower marking the capital of Tamriel.

In a dark chamber, far away from the prison, a man awoke. He shook his head to clear the fogginess of his sleep. He then frowned.
,,So, it appears that Merdrar has fallen. Who did it? That young fool, Talin? That assassin I put on the other side of the complex? Perhaps the Bosmer who saw too much? No, not her. She would try to run rather than fight, if she could run at all. Maybe one of the few other prisoners?” He rang a bell and waited till his servant entered the room.
,,Gather the Blades. I have a mission for them.”

Hmm so it seems that higher up beings are taking interest in a certain someone. Must be one of the escapees since this dremora decided to stop the Khajiit.

I'm very intrigued jack. Gimme some more!

The sun cast its merciless rays down on the roofs, raising the temperature to nearly unbearable heights. Erinus Codius was sitting on the only chair in her small shack at the Plaza district. The sun shone through the window where it fell on a lonely Nirnroot plant. All of a sudden, some unseen person knocked on the door. The woman put away her book and went to open the door. The visitor turned out to be one of the stable boys from just outside the city.

,,Yes, what is it?” She asked in a friendly yet impatient tone. The Poems of Ash proved to be interesting reading and even after months she still discovered new details in each passage. She really preferred to remain alone with the book. The stableboy fidgeted around nervously for a bit.
,,There’s a man outside the gate. He told me to go get you. He claims it’s urgent.” The boy said.
,,When I asked for a reward he said that ‘people who claim rewards for helping those in need are unworthy of their ancestor’s grace.” He added when the healer chose to simply look at him without responding. When he looked up again, he saw a faint smile tugging at the corner’s of the Imperial’s lips.
,,Only one man would say something like that.”

With an enthusiasm she didn’t recognize of herself, she slipped on her shoes and fled the cramped confines of her house, having to run back once because she forgot to lock the door. The stableboy found that he could barely keep up with the woman. She passed the open gates and scanned the surrounding countryside.

There he was, a tall Dunmer who leaned against the side of the bridge with his arms crossed in front of his chest. His eyes were closed, making it appear as if he was meditating. When Erinus drew closer, his eyes shot open and peered into her’s.
,,Aran! Did they rele….” She shouted but the silent warning he gave her made her walk forward before repeating at a softer tone that couldn’t be heard by the guards at the gate.
,,Did they release you?”
Aran shrugged.
,,Something like that.” Was the flat response he was willing to give. He wasted no time in getting down to business.
,,Can you help her?” He asked, motioning with his head to the Bosmer who he’d put down in a sitting position. To any passerby, it appeared as if she was merely sleeping. Till an observant individual would notice the unnatural pale colour of her skin.

Erinus looked at the Bosmer.
,,I didn’t knew you were into Wood Elves.” She joked.
,,Silence! Don’t mock the injured!” He chastised her. Erinus shuddered but knew that he didn’t mean to do her any harm. In fact, she was more pleased than hurt by his response. It proved that he was still the same spirited Aran Geydar she’d known for many years.
,,And you know that Bosmer are not my type. It’s her leg. Some giant dog or something tore it to pieces.” He continued, the calm statement was the closest thing to an apology he would ever make.

The healer leaned down to inspect the mentioned limb more closely.
,,Let’s see. Pale skin, evidence of severe bloodloss. What’s a dirty rag doing around there? Don’t tell me you didn’t had anything better. I’ll have to take her to my place and get something decent around it. Just why didn’t you take her to my home directly?” Now it was her turn to critiscize the Dunmer.
,,How would the guards respond if I carried a half-dead girl on my shoulder? She doesn’t look like a noble or even a rich person. Then they would see me, the scars of my life. They would try to stop me. They won’t stop a healer with a patient.” He explained as he picked up the escapee.
,,Now take us past the guards please.”


The man sat at the head of a large table. He looked at each of the men and women seated in turn. After he’d concluded that everyone was present and that no doppelgangers were around, he nodded to his servant who began to pass out leaflets.
,,This night, there was a jailbreak in our maximum security jail. Now I suppose that some questions regarding our ‘maximum security’ are in order.” He started with a serious frown.
,,There were a total of four escapees. Due to certain….circumstances, one of them died. His body has been given all the funeral rites he deserved, which wasn’t much.” He continued, looking at the Blades who were all examining the sketch he’d provided. They all had a clue of what was to come next but it didn’t hurt to ask.

,,Milord, what were the affiliations of the death person? Can we expect repercussions from those loyal to him?” One of the blades asked. The man took a moment of silence before answering.
,,There were no affiliations. He was a man who stood alone. No one will seek revenge for his death. If that was all, I would like to continue.”
,,You’ve failed, Talin. You’ve failed at the start of your great quest.”

,,There are three surviving escapees. Two of them, a Dunmer and Bosmer who are reported to be travelling together, are of no consequence. Let them enjoy their freedom, they won’t be able to harm anyone but themselves. The third one though, is a different story. Now, please pay attention to the sketch.” The man spoke. He looked at his own sketch and trailed the features with a finger.
,,The Khajiit you see here is a criminal of the most dangerous kind. His name is Ra’trith, though he also lays claim on the title ‘embodiment of darkness’. Quite a fitting title, considering his trade and the dark shade of his fur. This Khajiit is an assassin, most likely a member of the Dark Brotherhood. So far, we have confirmed the death of over thirty Imperial officers all around the province as well as a nearly successful assassination on me. I believe he might try to finish the job though even if he won’t, he must be stopped. I will not allow this killer to drench my Empire in blood once more.”

He looked at his Blades coldly.
,,Protect the Empire. As servants of the Nine this is your duty. But be warned, do not take your enemy lightly. He is an expert in unarmed combat. Don’t let your guard down just because he does not hold any steel in his hands. Dismissed.”



Note: Actually, he was alerted by Merdrar's 'death' at the Khajiit's claws. He wants to go after the most dangerous escapee first.

Our healer seems to have a bit of humour to her, which is an interesting quality. I guess making a patient smile and laugh works wonders on their pysche.

And now the emporer is going out head hunting for Ra'trith. It'll be interesting to see how well that goes. My thoughts are that many more bodies are going to be sacrificed before that one is defeated.

Hmm, I just realized. Ra'trith alone has murdered more people in what's still the beginning of the story than some main characters in an entire story. Creepy. Maybe I should call it 'Bloodlust: The prequel?'
I won't try to lay claim on that title. It still lacks what Bloodlust does so well, plot and characters who do more than just killing. I never knew that writing a killing machine could be so hard. There's more to it than just dropping corpses everywhere. So another compliment to Simion, who is probably the most interesting killer I ever read about. Anyway, on to the story.






The Bosmer had been lowered onto the healer’s bed. Erinus carefully removed the makeshift bandage while Aran watched. She didn’t utter a sound when she saw the damage for the first time though she did frown.
,,Two claws that have run quite deep, a third wound which is fortunately little more than a minor scrape. Lots of dirt.” She muttered to herself.
,,Get me the bottle of alcohol, I’ll need to disinfect this mess first. It is no use to regrow flesh and muscle when it means that you’ll get dust and mud trapped inside.” She ordered while her eyes still surveyed the Werewolf’s gift.

Aran opened the cupboard which contained all of Erinus’ medical items. He’d seen her take something from that cupboard countless times before and had a nearly photographic memory of its contents. His hand had already reached for the bottle before his eyes had found it.
,,Why is the cupboard so empty?” He asked while handing over the bottle. This time, the healer did utter a long and hard sigh.
,,Emperor’s orders. He decided that we charge too much and forced us to lower our prices. Like this, I can barely buy the food I need to feed myself, let stand buy the ingredients I need for my practice.” The door clicked as it was closed. Erinus looked up and then returned to her patient.
,,You’re as stubborn as ever, Aran Geydar. Just make sure I won’t have to heal you as well.”


Derin Horse-Mouth raised his hand.
,,Another one.” He shouted and burped. The bartender went over and refilled the Nord’s mug. He snatched the coin on the table and returned to cleaning his bar. Derin took a large swig of the liquid, burped again and layed down his remaining coins on the table. After some counting, he concluded he could have five more rounds. Then, he really had to find himself a job.

A cloaked figure entered the tavern, his form hunched over slightly like a beast. The tip of a black tail reached out underneath his cloak. The figure dropped a single coin on the tap.
,,Brandy.” He said with a deep growling voice. He then moved directly to the table occupied by Derin and sat down.
,,It’s too early to get drunk, Derin Horse-Mouth.” He whispered at the drunken Nord. The Nord raised his head and found himself looking into a pair of intense yellow eyes surrounded by a black face. He forced a smile on his wet lips.
,,I can’t believe it. Ra’trith, the embodiment of darkness. What can I do for you, brother?” He howled across the room.
,,You could start by keeping your voice down. I have no patience for dealing with drunk fools.”

Normally, this would have sparked a flame in the Nord’s hot temper but this time, he took the insult in silence. He knew the skill the assassin possessed and more importantly, his willingness to use this skill at the slightest provocation.
,,It’s good to see you alive. We were worried. They said you had been dragged off to prison to the south of the city.” He slurred, somehow finding the strength to keep his voice down. He grinned.
,,So, I assume you want the usual? Tell you what, I’ll give you a discount for your information. To celebrate your freedom? I’m sure we can work out a deal.” The Khajiit jumped on top of the table and delivered a powerful kick into the Nord’s face, sending him flying backwards till he hit a wall. The whole building shook from the impact.

The pain instantly sobered Derin, or at least down to the point where he realized the danger he was in.
,,No one said a thing. The Emperor would never admit that an assassin managed to reach his bedroom and nearly killed him. You lied to me, you traitor!” Ra’trith hissed in the Nord’s ear. His claw pressed into Derin’s throat, causing a trickle of blood to flow down.
,,You want a deal, here’s one. You tell me what I want to know and I’ll pay you with your life.”

A not so drunk patron rushed out of the door, most likely to warn the guards. Derin followed the man with his eyes. Those who remained behind didn’t dare to move or make a sound, unwilling to bring the Khajiit’s fury down on them.
,,What do you think you’re doing, Ra’trith? When the guards come, they won’t show you any mercy. What do you think you’ll achieve with your death?” He spoke with a trembling voice. In reality, he knew that even five guards would be no match for the assassin. Even in a straight-up fight, the Khajiit was a force to be reckoned with. All he could do now was to please the monster in any way he could.
,,Twenty seconds to get to them, ten to explain, thirty to return. That makes sixty seconds. If you don’t give me the information I want by then, you’ll die. Fifty seconds left, start talking.”

For a moment, Derin only managed to speak gibberish. He soon managed to regain his voice and shouted at the top of his lungs, tripping over his own tongue in his hurry to speak.
,,They came before you did! If I kept the vital detail for myself, I would be rewarded with a fortune. If I told you, they would kill me!” Ra’trith’s eyes narrowed.
,,Who? Thirty seconds.” He growled.
,,I shouldn’t tell you. If they find out, not only will they kill me, but the whole Brotherhood. Don’t your brothers and sisters mean anything to you?” Derin objected.
,,The only life I care about is my own. Who?” The Khajiit pressed on despite the danger he was bringing his people into.

,,That royal battlemage and some of his people. Jagatha…..something like that, I swear! ” The Nord answered. Ra’trith dropped the man who slumped down to the floor.
,,Jagar Tharn?” He asked, so surprised that even he could not hide it. Derin simply nodded. The sound of armoured boots battering the cobblestones drew nearer.
,,I told you everything I know, now please let me live.” The Nord pleaded. Ra’trith swiped his mug of brandy from the table.
,,You betrayed me before. I won’t give you the chance to betray me again.” With a single swift motion, he drew his claw across Derin’s throat. He then calmly drank his brandy and dropped the mug into the pool of blood gathering around his toes.
,,This is good brandy, perhaps I should come here more often.” He noted as if nothing had happened.

A panting guard burst through the room. The sight was one he would remember his entire life. Everyone, frozen in fear. A corpse, with blood still streaming onto the floor like a river. The tip of a black tail vanishing up the stairs.
,,Ahem…….Everyone, don’t move. The Imperial guards will investigate this matter. Please form up in lines and prepare for your interrogation.” He said with an uneasy voice before turning to the patron who had warned him.
,,Go get some more help.”

Ra’trith easily eluded the guards. He ditched the now bloodsoaked cloak into the lake surrounding the city.
,,So they came before me? Then Derin wasn’t the only traitor. And Jagar Tharn, why would the royal battlemage himself show interest in me? I hate dealing with trouble like this. At least this Merdrac fellow kept his word. No spells, even if he would die without them. Honourable fool.”

Well not all killers have character development, just look at most horror movie monsters. All they really do is rack up body counts over sequel after sequel. But hey, it's cool that you like Simion; I like him too!

Ra'trith is quite the character himself, he certainly has that nice sinister edge to him. And now the Imperial Battlemage himself is looking for him. Sounds like Ra'trith will have many enemies to go through to get some answers.

Whoa. I stand in awe of your post machineiness Jack! As well as your story. I like this Khajiit, and Aran Geydar sounds like a One Bad ..**Shutyomouth!** too...

Wow, I'm really loving this series! As a newbie to these forums I came specifically looking for some Elder Scrolls Fanfiction and the first thing I read is this great looking series. I like the fact that the Kajit is a werewolf, didn't see that one comming at all. I like the way you made the atmosphere in the dungeon feel really creepy and scary, really got me in to the story. The relationship the two escaped prisinors have is pretty interesting too. Can't wait for more!

Thank you and welcome. Please have a look at the other stories as well. On the whole, the quality is quite high here in my opinion.
Oh, and is that Ethan from ctrl-alt-delete? I read that comic from time to time, it's funny.

Now without further ado, meet the next chapter.




Chapter 2: Pit of sand, well of memories.

Aran walked through the Imperial city at a brisk pace. Those who were walking outside as well had to move aside when he came through.
,,Lower the price? What is the Emperor thinking? Did he lose all sense of finance? And doesn’t he realize the importance of healers? When the healers can no longer support themselves, then who treats the wounded, or the sick?”
He came past the Black Horse courier. The latest edition had been pinned to the wall. Aran stopped to read the headlines.

EMPEROR SENDS HEIR AWAY. ‘A school in Hammerfell. Is the next emperor being trained to be a new conqueror?’

TENSIONS RISE ON ELSWEYR-VALENWOOD BORDER ‘The latest chapter in the neverending conflict’

QUEEN OF MORROWIND FLEES TO HIGH ROCK ‘Local nobles claim to be pleased to be rid of the Dark Elven queen.’

DARK BROTHERHOOD STRIKES AGAIN ‘An ancient guild of assassins plague our lands. Will the Legion do something?’

With each headline, his frown got deeper. Unlike most Dunmer, the hate towards queen Barenziah meant nothing to him. Where he was born, her rule was as strong as the morning breeze. The queen had never been an influence on his life, nor would she ever be.

What bothered him was that there seemed to be only tales of violence. War, a conqueror in training. As if Tamriel hadn’t seen enough blood in the past.
,,I make no sense. I protest against war whereas my life has been nothing but one great battle, fuelled by the blood of my opponents and I.”
Silently, he continued walking till he reached his destination. The Arena.

The Arena looked from the outside like the city on a smaller scale. Only the great tower was missing. He took the fighter’s entrance, where he moved through the training area. Gladiators where demolishing bags, putting holes into wooden boards or simply breaking each other’s noses. In here, it seemed as if time did not exist. The only sign of time passing would be the replacement of old gladiators with new ones.

Aran walked up to the desk at the far end of the room. An old Orc sat behind it, his face disfigured from his own career in the arena. The Dunmer waited patiently to be noticed. When the Orc looked up, his eyes shone with recognition.
,,I don’t believe my eyes! Aran Geydar, the spearwielder! What can I do for you?” He asked and took the Dunmer into a crushing embrace.
,,I need money. Let me enter the arena.” Aran answered. Instantly, the Orc let go and took a step back. He tried to keep his eyes focussed on the man’s face yet couldn’t stop himself from glancing down at his left hand.

,,Can’t you find a different way to make money? Face it, my friend. You’ve had your days of glory. Now they’re gone, they fled when you lost your hand.” He complained.
,,You’re a cripple, Aran Geydar. I understand that a warrior’s true wish is to die by the sword. But you’re too young. You should find a woman first, pass on your blood to a new generation of warriors. Don’t throw your life away.”

Aran looked down at the cloth covering the stump. His hand had been severed at the wrist by Erinus, after an axe had turned it into a bloody pulp of flesh and bone. With his hand, most of his skill had vanished. He pressed his remaining hand into a fist. He would not give up, even if injured.
,,As long as I have a spear. I can still fight! Let me do this, Ghorak! Let me.” He demanded. Ghorak sighed, an unusual thing for an Orc to do. Then again, just being a respected citizen was a miracle for an Orc.
,,You have courage. I respect that. Very well, follow me.” He said and moved away from behind the desk. The Orc’s stomach bulged over his belt, yet the muscles underneath his skin remained strong.

He led the Dunmer into the trophy room. There, he moved to an exhibit composed of an axe and a spear. Both were stunning examples of workmanship. Steel mixed with gold, emeralds embedded into the hilt of the axe and the shaft of the spear. Runes engraved into the blades. Ghorak removed the spear from the wall and held it out.
,,I made this spear before your last battle. If you became the champion, I would give it to you. Alas, you did. Only to get dragged off to prison. Here, take it. It’s yours.” He said with his rough voice. Aran didn’t take the spear outright but instead looked at the axe.
,,The axe?”

The Orc looked as well and shrugged.
,,I can’t play favourites. I worked on that axe as long as I worked on your spear. If he had won, he would have received it.” He explained.
,,He was a worthy opponent.” Aran claimed and reached out to take the spear. With a sudden movement, Ghorak pulled the weapon out of reach.
,,Just promise me one thing.” He said.

Aran looked intensely at the Orc. He had never asked for a promise before.
,,What?” The Dunmer asked warily. Ghorak forced a grin.
,,Don’t kill your sponsor.” Now Aran grinned as well.
,,You have my word.” He said and received his spear. His first impression was that the weapon was remarkably light and exceptionally well-balanced. Truly, with this weapon the loss of his hand did not matter.

,,Just why did you kill your sponsor after that battle?” Ghorak asked as they walked up to the gates. Just a moment earlier, the Orc had shouted at one of the gladiators to get ready for a match.
,,That man slaughtered most of my tribe, tried to take our land. I vowed to avenge the Urshilaku who had been slaughtered and then left for the Nix-Hounds to feed on. I followed him all the way here and fought in the arena for eleven years before I got my chance. He sponsored me, so then I could get close enough to kill him. What happened to me after that was not important. He’s death now, and the souls of my ancestors have found peace.”

Well you can certainly tell that Aran is a prideful mer. He was willing to go to prison to avenge his tribe. That takes a lot of heart. And it seems you've been hiding the fact that Aran is a cripple as well. That certainly brings a twist to things. Hopefully he'll manage to adapt his style so that his spear skills can be put to use with one arm.

Great work Jack. Looking forward to the Arena Battle, which I'm assuming will be the next update. I could be wrong though...

Well, I've been following the teasers quite closely. Ra'trith is the one who tried to assassinate the emperor, Rajn is that guide in Valenwood and Aran is the Ashlander who stopped a Nord's axe with his hand and then killed his sponsor a minute after the battle.



Aran watched as the gates were lowered. He stepped into the arena, carefully avoiding the sharp tips at the top of the gate which had now sunk into the ground. Ghorak walked to the center of the arena.
,,Listen, this match is private! There is no crowd! The winner receives a thousand septims, paid in solid coins. First one to admit defeat loses! Try not to kill. Begin!”

The Dunmer did not move as the Orc retreated to the edge of the pit. He let his eyes wander over the Redguard who was his opponent, analyzing his strengths and weaknesses. He began with the man’s race, a Redguard. Then, his eyes wandered down to the weapon, a katana held loosely in his right hand. Next, the armour, a suit of overlapping Bronze scales.

The Redguard was getting impatient. He’d moved to the center of the arena, expecting Aran to do the same thing. Yet, Aran was still standing at the gate.
,,What’s the matter with you? Lost your guts? If you’re afraid to fight me, you shouldn’t have stepped into the ring.” The man shouted across the distance.
,,I can’t blame you though. A spear is a two-handed weapon, impossible to use with just one. Come on, why don’t you step out while you have the chance? I won’t tell your girl about it. If you have one. Not much chance with such an ugly face.” He continued.

Aran’s eyes narrowed.
,,Overconfident, impatient and jumps to conclusions. Furthermore, he tries to bolster his own courage by insulting the opponent. Pathethic.”
He continued to wait till the Redguard had lost all patience and charged him.
,,Stupid fool! If you don’t want to admit your defeat, I’ll make you!” That comment brought a smile on the Dunmer’s lips. The Redguard looked surprised by this reaction and slowed down a little.
,,As planned. Now, to make my move.”
Aran stepped aside and swung his spear around above his head. At the last moment, he flicked the shaft around with his fingers till the spear was pointing down. A loud ringing sound echoed across the arena when the katana bounced off the weapon. He brought the spear back into an horizontal position and trust the butt into the Redguard’s stomach, sending him down on his knees.

Aran brought his spear’s blade down to the man’s throat.
,,A warrior hides his strength with an illusion of weakness. Remember this, or you’ll never win a battle.” He spoke solemnly. He pressed the blade against the Redguard’s throat.
,,Do you admit defeat?” Aran asked.
,,Yes.”


Erinus was humming an old tune. Her patient was still unconscious but she knew from experience that it wouldn’t last much longer. When the Bosmer woke up, she would have to explain the situation. She heard someone knocking on the door and got out of her chair to see who it was this time.
,,I hope it’s Aran. He’d better not come back in pieces.”

The visitor was not Aran. Rather, he was an Argonian whose red scales matched his red clothes.
,,Good day to you. I hope I do not disturb you?” It spoke in an odd hissing accent. Its expressionless eyes glanced at the Bosmer lying in the hut’s only bed. Erinus looked at her patient as well.
,,No, you don’t disturb. How may I help you?”

Without a word, the Argonian took the woman by the arm and led her out of her home.
,,It’s not safe to talk here. We’ll talk there, behind the bushes. It is an important matter that concerns all of us.” He spoke. While Erinus could not read the strange creature’s expressions, she felt that it meant her no harm. So she followed, although she was slightly concerned about leaving her patient.
,,I believe that this is far enough. No one will hear us here, as long as we keep our voices down.” She finally whispered.

The Argonian turned to her.
,,I am known as Marsh-Speaker. You may call me Marsh. I need your help, lady Codius. The matter concerns the Emperor, whose health I fear.” He whispered, still in his peculiar accent. Now Erinus knew what caused this accent.
,,Its mouth is not shaped for our kind of speech. Just that it can speak comprehensible words is an achievement. To speak this well, he must have lived among us for a long time.”
,,I heard nothing about his health and even if there were problems, he has his own private healer for that.” She answered, hiding her own doubts with a confident voice. He’d made some odd decisions lately.
,,I know, but his own healer would not speak to me. Lady Codius, I do not ask of you to cure him or even to get involved. All I want to know is this, has the Emperor done strange things in your opinion?”

The healer shrugged.
,,I suppose he does. But I’m a healer, not a politician. How can I judge his decisions?” She asked Marsh-Speaker in return. The Argonian nodded, another habit he’d learned from the humans and elves that surrounded him.
,,True, but I am a politician so I can judge him. I’m telling you, the Emperor acts as if he is an entirely different person. I don’t know the soul of a man. Therefore I came to you, for advice.”


Back at the shack, a pair of pitchblack eyes opened. They squinted as they tried to make sense of the blurry image. The image cleared, revealing a wooden ceiling.
,,Cut up trees, barbaric.” Rajn thought to herself and managed a weak chuckle.
,,They probably think the same thing of me. The city people call the forest people barbarians, the forest people call the city people barbarians as well.”
Her eyes shot wide open and her mouth formed a soundless ‘oh’.
,,This isn’t that stupid jail. There’s a window, air! I’m above ground! I feel so happy, I could hug a tree.”

She tried to sit upright but fell down before she’d even managed to lift her head above the pillow.
,,My leg hurts. Next time I meet a dog, I’m going to kick it so hard, it thinks its ribs are floating above its head. I wonder where the Dunmer is? Or where I am, for that matter.”
She yawned.
,,Who cares, not my problem. Maybe I’ll worry about it tomorrow, or next week, or next month. Maybe never.” Already, she’d used up her strength. She drifted off into sleep before she’d even realized.

One Handed Spear Weilding at its best! Keep it up jack, you're outdoing yourself with this one! I am liking this story very much.

Each character and getting more steadily defined as you continue. I love it, jack! Keep it up, or else... well I don't think I can really do anything to you. You're like on the other side of the ocean and I don't think I'm travelling to that side again anytime soon.

Let's just say I would be a bit down. You don't wanna make a loyal reader sad would you!?

Wow, a lot's happened here since I last perused this story. This is really excellent!

A shadow walked into Cheydinhall, unseen by any of the guards. The shadow dropped down from the wall and moved quickly towards what looked like an abandoned building. He knocked three times on the door. After a long waiting period, a small hatch opened at eyelevel and two red eyes peered at him.
,,What’s the colour of the night?” The eyes asked.
,,Sanguine.”

The door opened, allowing the shadow to enter.
,,Ah, it’s you, Ra’trith. How did the hunt…..” The doorkeeper slumped to the floor, blood dripping out of the hole where his heart used to be. Ra’trith squeezed the still beating organ dry of blood before placing it back in the gap.
,,The night is coloured sanguine with your blood, Brother.” He whispered.

Without warning, a dagger stabbed into his shoulder, releasing its vile poison into his blood.
,,Ra’trith, what do you think you’re doing?” A stern voice asked him. The Khajiit backed up into the doorframe where he could keep his opponent in front of him.
,,Taking care of business.” He snarled. The man who’d attacked him put away his dagger.
,,You mean the traitor? I’ve already met him days ago and taken my measures. There’s no need to kill the whole sanctuary. Sheath your claws.” He said, revealing unnatural fangs in a mad grin.
Ra’trith refused to sheath his claws. Not because he didn’t trust the vampire, but because he never sheathed them no matter what the situation was.

,,You did kill one of your Brothers though. That cannot go unpunished. Normally, you would be marked for death. You’re a rare asset though so I’ll have you redeem yourself through the spilling of blood. The details of your mission are pinned to the wall in the armory. Get yourself prepared.” The man continued and turned his back to the assassin, becoming one with the shadows once more. Ra’trith watched the vampire’s back.
,,As you wish…..master.”

He walked into the armory and wasted no time getting ready. He took a small chest from a rack and opened it. Inside, an Ebony dagger of sublime workmanship lay wrapped in the finest red silk. The Khajiit eased his fingers around the hilt and let the torchlight reflect on the blade. A Blade of Woe was a weapon unique to the Dark Brotherhood. It came in multiple sizes and a variety of shapes, each individual weapon was tailored to fit its owner’s hand perfectly. With a keen edge and a care that bordered on religion, the Blade of Woe was always ready to kill any victim efficiently. Most blades were unenchanted, and only the highest ranking members of the Dark Brotherhood and a few exceptional assassins had theirs enchanted by the Night Mother herself. Ra’trith’s blade belonged to those few that were enchanted.

He rarely used it, preferring to rip his victims apart with his claws instead. Some people had called him a mad beast before because of this habit. They’d all paid for that insult with their lives. This time however, the vampire would not forgive him if he didn’t take to the job like a real Dark Brotherhood assassin. Apart from the dagger, he also picked up a new outfit of light armour and a cloak, all coloured a pitch black that matched his fur. He’d lost his own set when he got dragged off to jail after his failed attempt at assassinating the emperor.
,,Next time will be different.” He vowed.

He made a quick stop at the dining hall to grab an apple from a basket. He hadn’t been able to eat since killing Derin Horse-Mouth. He brought the fruit up to his mouth and sniffed. With a swift movement similar to the ones he used to kill, he threw the fruit at the cook’s face. The apple hit with a wet smack.
,,I’ll let it slip this time. Next time you try to poison my food though, you won’t live to see the next day.” Ra’trith warned and headed out of the door.

The doorkeeper had already been replaced. The new one was quick to open the door for the one who killed his predecessor. Outside the sanctuary, the Khajiit scaled the wall and sat down on the roof of the building it was located in. There, he unwrapped the notice.
,,Target: Revarim Kendri. A Redguard of around 60 years in age. Wears a worn robe of a brown colour. Target can be found at Cyrodiil, Plaza district. Sells carved statues made out of wood. Target is unarmed. Payment for execution is 5000 septims.”He frowned as he tore up the piece of paper and let it be carried away by the wind.
,,5000 for an old man who can’t even defend himself against a fly? That no one else has already taken the job. There is a bad smell about this. I’ll have to be careful.”

Nice stuff Jack, very enjoyable. I like how the character of Ra’trith is progressing, they way you've described him makes it pretty easy to picture how bloodthirsty he is. Can't wait for more!

And yeah my pic is Ethan. Love Ctrl+Alt+Delete

I would be suspicious too given the information on our Redguard target. I'm sure Ra'trith's Khajiit nose can spell a trap pretty easily.

I have a feeling the next update is going to be quite bloody. I'm looking forward to it!

My my my Jack! You're now officially inducted into the Assassiny Writers Sub-Guild! Joining those such as Metal, Canis, and I hope myself!

We have such a guild!!!? Sweet!! Oh yea, you'll definitely be in this Sub-Guild if I'm allowed in. Heck, my assassin isn't even the prevalent main character in my story!

It's obvious, isn't it? When you pay money for some old guy, expect TROUBLE in capital letters.

Assassiny writers sub-guild? Sounds nice, though I don't know if we can call Ra'trith an assassin. His killings so far have been much too open. No sneaking around.

And now, we continue with the others.






Several minutes later, the Khajiit was sitting on the lower branches of a tree, hidden from view by the many leaves. A coach came along. Ra’trith took in the vehicle and made his decision quickly. When it passed underneath him, he dropped down and landed on the roof without making a sound or causing a vibration. He slid down to the back where he was perfectly hidden from both the Imperial in controlling the horses and its passengers. He sat on top of a large suitcase, his legs dangling in the air. He absentmindedly scratched his wounded shoulder.
,,Damn poison. It itches. I hate that vampire. Hmph, I’ll break free from him someday. No one lives forever, not even those who have sacrificed their soul for an illusion of immortality.”


A Breton moved around the tables with a plate held above high above his head. He arrived at his destination, lowered the plate and put two large jugs of Mazte on the dirty table. He then left as swiftly as he’d arrived. A grey hand reached out and opened the two jugs. Another hand, a green one, was dropping coins in a leather pouch.
,,980…990…1000, it’s all there.” The Orc said with his rumbling voice and slid the now filled pouch across the table. Aran picked it up and deposited the fortune in his pocket where it would be quite safe.
,,I do have a question for you.” The Dunmer stated before taking a swig of the Mazte.
,,That’s fine but I have a question for you as well.”

Aran shrugged.
,,You can ask anything you want. Now for my question, why did you make me promise not to kill my sponsor? It’s not like you to worry about such things. In fact, I must have caused quite some publicity with that act. Don’t you always grab every chance at publicity you can get?” He asked. Ghorak laughed, managing to make more noise than everyone else in the tavern combined.
,,I know, I love publicity. Publicity is good for business. But what good is publicity for me if I’m death? It took us hours to find and clean up every little bit of the guy’s head. I sponsored you this time. Forgive an old man his self-protecting behaviour, please.” He explained once he’d finally stopped laughing.
,,Now as for my question, why do you need the money so much?”

Aran casually leaned back in his chair.
,,It’s not for me. It’s for Erinus Codius. With the new law that forces the healers to lower their price, she can no longer sustain herself.” He told the Orc. Ghorak slammed on the table with a fist, causing a large wave of his Mazte to fly up into the air and splatter down on the table again, making it even messier than it already was.
,,That woman?! Why didn’t you just say so instead of going out and teaching that fool who’s boss? Do you have any idea how many corpses we would have if she wasn’t there to fix up the survivors? I know about that law but I’d completely forgotten about it. Curse the Emperor and his name!” He raged. The Dunmer looked around the tavern calmly. While he did see a number of angry faces, none of those faces had violence in their eyes. Still, violence could occur if his friend continued to slander the Emperor.
,,You might want to tone it down a bit, Ghorak. Getting killed in a bar brawl is bad for business as well.” He warned.

The Orc calmed down though he did utter a few more threats under his breath.
,,Keep the money and don’t give it to her. Let me deal with it. Since the Emperor has forbidden us to pay her a fair price, I just thought of something different. What if we give her a weekly bonus for ‘outstanding service quality’? I bet that we could slip the money she deserves past that bloody law with this.” He whispered, grinning savagely. Aran grinned as well.
,,They may say that all Orcs are barbarians with less intelligence than a rock. You, my friend, have a common sense and wit an Altmer would be jealous of. A bonus for outstanding service quality, that definitely sounds like something she deserves.”


Erinus closed the door quietly.
,,We might meet again someday. Till then, may the Divines watch over you.” Marsh-Speaker spoke to the closed door and moved out on the street, soon vanishing within the mass.

With her visitor gone, the healer had all the time she needed to take care of her patient. She hadn’t been able to do much about the wound yet. Now though, she would be able to mend most of the flesh with the potions she’d freshly bought during her conversation with the Argonian. She began to remove the bandage she’d applied and inspected the wound closely to see if there had been any unexpected changes.

,,It hurts.” A voice whispered. When Erinus looked up, she found the Bosmer’s eyes staring at her.
,,Well, of course it hurts. Any further, and there would be no way to save your leg. You’re quite lucky the wound wasn’t infected. Not only was it dirty, but your resistance to disease has been seriously undermined with your starvation. At least you’re awake now, that’s a good sign.” Erinus said calmly.
,,Raw rat meat isn’t exactly a delicacy. There aren’t many edible bits on a rat either.” Rajn smiled weakly.

The woman ignored any further comments as she focussed on her task. She carefully administered the potion’s contents directly to the wound, making sure not to overdo the dosage. If drank as was usually the case, the potion would have never been strong enough to deal with a wound only half as bad since the liquid spread evenly and wasted itself on fixing inconsequential damage all over the body. If applied directly to the wound though, its effects were effectively concentrated where it mattered most. If too much was applied at one place though, the flesh would drown and the medicine would do more damage than it healed.

Before her eyes, the torn flesh reassembled and flowed back into its proper shape. It was a painful process, as evident by a few gasps and the tears that shone in the Bosmer’s eyes. When the miraculous healing was done, most of the wound had vanished as if it never existed, replaced by new flesh that had not yet taken on the signs of regular usage.
,,I don’t fix the skin normally as it is quite a bit more complex than it might seem. You’ll keep a few scars I’m afraid. Those can be removed at a later date by any healer though.” Erinus explained as she put the now empty vial on the table. It could always be filled with a different substance later.

,,Nah, that’s ok. I think I’ll keep them. As a reminder not to mess with really big dogs. Say, where’s the Dunm….” Rajn began but fell silent when her leg started twitching uncontrollably. Erinus smiled reassuringly.
,,Don’t worry about the twitching. There’s some new muscle tissue in there. It hasn’t yet learned how to respond properly. For the first few days, expect some odd movements like those while it learns how to function. Try to bend and stretch your leg as often as you can to help speed up the learning process.” She said, then got up and lit up the fire of the oven.
,,You’re probably hungry so I’ll make you something to eat.” She said over her shoulder.

To her surprise, the Bosmer was now staring at her still twitching leg with something that resembled sadness.
,,She should be happy to be still alive. I wonder what’s wrong?” The healer thought.
,,How do I pay? I don’t have any money. Neither does the other guy.” Rajn muttered, more to herself than to the Imperial.
,,So that’s it.”
,,Don’t worry about it. Aran is a good friend of mine and I’m happy to help out. His friend is my friend.”

Ra'trith nears the Imperial City! Beware all who get in his way! Hehe, cool.

Great update as usual Jack, you're characters are developing nicely.

A short one. Enjoy!





That night, Aran returned. When he arrived, he found an unexpected scene. Pots, plates and cutlery were littered all over the small cabin. At the table, the Bosmer he’d brought in was stuffing herself full with what looked like enough food to feed a whole garrison of Legionnaires. Erinus rushed over to him when he clutched his head.
,,Aran! What did you get yourself into?” She chided the Dunmer. He waved off her attempts to help.
,,There’s nothing wrong with me. I just tried to keep up with Ghorak in drinking. Bad idea.” He grumbled. Rajn snickered.
,,Enough is enough. Don’t overdo it.” She joked.
,,Look who’s talking. This must be like your fifth serving. Finish it up already.” Erinus chided the girl as well.

Aran took the healer by the arm and led her outside.
,,About the payment.” He began but Erinus interrupted him before he could finish his obvious question.
,,Don’t worry, I know you don’t have any money. It’s fine, even though she just managed to go through a week worth of food. I’ll have to turn over each coin twice, but I’ll manage.” She told him. Without making any more futile attempts at talking, the Dunmer simply pulled out the pouch containing a thousand septims and pressed it into her hand.
,,Here.” He said.

The woman didn’t dare to open it, afraid that the illusion would be shattered. The hard coins in her hands felt real, very real.
,,Aran, how can I ever thank you?” She asked with tears of joy in her eyes.
,,Don’t thank me. This is the payment Ghorak owes you. He also insisted on giving you a weekly bonus for outstanding service quality. In other words, he found a way to sneak past that stupid law. Now let’s go in, it’s cold outside.”

,,Done! I’ll do the dishes!” Rajn exclaimed and was about to jump out of her seat when Erinus pushed her back down.
,,No walking for you yet. I don’t want you to trip and break everything. Now get back in the bed.” She ordered the Bosmer and then turned back to her old friend.
,,Would you mind?” She asked, gesturing towards the sink. Aran shrugged.
,,There is more to life than war. I’ll help you with cleaning the dishes.” He answered the unspoken question.
,,Good, I’ll stuff the vegetables first. Turns out our little lady here is a religious carnivore.”

Deep in the night, a coach arrived at the gates.
,,Please open! It is Mannimarco!” A voice shouted. Out of sight, sitting on a large suitcase, a slumbering shadow woke up. He dropped from the coach and clung to its underside. The gates opened and the coach entered the city, carrying an unwelcome guest.
,,Now, let’s find that man. We’ll see what this is all about.”

Ra’trith let go of the coach and rolled over the street till he reached a dark alley where he pressed himself against the wall. He checked his surroundings for any potential witnesses before ascending the wall towards the roof. Jumping from rooftop to rooftop, he made his way to the Plaza district. There, he gazed over the roof’s edge in the hope of seeing his target. There he was, a Redguard with hair as white as snow, a body bent over with age and a robe that had seen its better days.

The Khajiit resisted his urge to kill the man. First, he needed to assess the safety of this place. He looked at every roof, every shadow, every window. Nothing, no one was there.
,,This can’t be. It has to be a trap so why isn’t there one? No matter, then I’ll just kill him here and now.” He thought and licked his teeth. He moved across the roof till he was directly above the Redguard. Then, he dropped down. His claws shone in the moonlight, his eyes were blazing with a thirst for blood that knew no bounds.

.... And then the trap reveals itself!!

Oops, sorry, I'm not jack so I can't start the next post. Darn! Ohwell, looks like I'll have to be patient.

No need to be patient any longer. The trap reveals itself! Ok, just weirdness. Lorefreaks might recognise it though.




He landed on the street, dropping to all fours to cushion the impact. He looked in all directions, trying to find out where his target had gone so sudden. He’d expected to land on the man’s back, not on the ground.

The air moved behind him. He spun around, stretching his leg to deliver a bonecrushing blow to the old man. The blow never came. Instead, he found himself flying through the air towards the nearest wall. Only his reflexes that had been honed by years of hard training allowed him to turn around in midair and catch the force of impact with his legs instead of his face. He dropped down to the ground again and watched the Redguard warily.
,,I should’ve known. Either there was a trap or the target was not helpless in the end. He moves quite fast for someone that old. Not fast enough.”

Slowly, the Khajiit unsheathed the Blade of Woe. He then approached rapidly, a shadow of death catapulting itself through the air. He passed the old man like an arrow and then used a crate to slow down and strike from behind. The man had turned to face his assailant though and met the deathly dagger with an opened hand.

A sound like ringing bells echoed across the streets. Ra’trith jumped back, completely stunned by his foe’s resistance. The man’s hand was no longer empty. A sparkling mist as bright as the sun was nestled within the grip of his weathered hands. The Khajiit had no idea what to make out of it.
,,Now now, let’s not ruin this lovely night with violence, shall we?” The Redguard spoke for the first time. His voice carried no anger about the sudden attack. With a loud growl, the enraged assassin struck with all his fury.

Laughing softly, the Redguard danced around the blurred chaos of claws and Ebony. Then, he made a single downwards cut with the mist. Ra’trith jumped back and stared at the man, gasping for breath after his exertion. His hand went up to the wound. Where the mist had struck, his armour had been cut and so had his skin. It wasn’t any normal cut. There was no parting of leather and flesh. Instead, everything which had been touched by the light had simply vanished.
,,You are a marked man, why?” Ra’trith asked, stalling for time. It was a tactic he preferred not to use but in this case, he had no choice. The man had proven himself to be more than a match for him and worst of all, he wasn’t even sweating or breathing any harder than when he’d just taken a nap.

,,A matter that interests you, I presume. Of course, it is only natural to desire knowledge about that which you cannot defeat. That’s the Dark Brotherhood’s interest. I’ve had a few encounters with a certain member of your order. A Vicente Valtieri. I believe it’d suffice to say that he failed to kill me just as how you have failed yourself. Perhaps you have heard of him?” The old man answered the question with a question.
,,I’ve met him.” Ra’trith snarled in return.
,,Valtieri, so that’s why. You never expected me to win did you? So you’ve spoken with the traitor and dealt with him. Of course, you speak with yourself every day. You’re death, traitor! Mark my words!”
,,If this is personal, then perhaps you two should deal with it yourselves.” He told the old man.
,,I’d love to spill your blood but there is a certain satisfaction in making two enemies fight each other while I watch from a distance.”

The Redguard shooed him away.
,,I am a man of life, not of death. You however, are the chosen bringer of death in this world. I can see it in your eyes. Death has been around you from the day you were born and if you’re not careful, it will be with you till the day you die. I have no intention of killing anyone.” He explained and turned his back on the Khajiit.
,,If you don’t desire to harm people as you say, than why carry a weapon? Do not convict my actions if you ignore yours.” Ra’trith accused the man. He’d caught his breath by now and was ready for a second round. The disastrous results of their first battle restrained him though.

The Redguard turned around and faced the assassin with a calculating look.
,,I do not carry a weapon. As long as I do not fear and as long as my will remains absolute, I am invincible. You have some impressive skills but you show some great flaws. You rely too much on the strength of your body and too little on the strength of your soul. These are the words of Revarim Kendri, remember them. You’ve piqued my interest, ender of lives, embodiment of darkness.”

Ra’trith visibly recoiled.
,,Embodiment of Darkness? How does he know my title? Was it a mere coincidence or perhaps not?” He thought, getting increasingly worried. He did not like people he could not comprehend and this Revarim Kendri was getting more incomprehensible with each passing moment.
,,The cook, two prisoners, several guardsmen, Jagar Tharn, Vicente Valtieri, you, the Emperor.” He admitted reluctantly. Kendri clapped his hands.

,,Ah yes, the Emperor. Who doesn’t want to kill him, with what he’s been doing lately?” He murmured and brought his face down to Ra’trith’s eyelevel.
,,The Emperor is no mere man you know. If you truly desire to kill him, you must prepare for an incredible challenge. To face this challenge, your will must be absolute. You must learn how to sing, how to be a champion of justice as opposed to a champion of evil. Perhaps then, you’ll stand a chance. Also, you might find Jagar Tharn in your way when you make your move. You must fight two men, a powerful mage and the ruler of an empire. Now then, good night.” Ra’trith blinked. That short moment of blindness was enough for Kendri to vanish. The Khajiit shrugged and walked away in the night.
,,Everything at its time. First, I must build my strength so I can face Valtieri. After that, I’ll start my quest to destroy the empire. And just what has singing to do with killing? Strange old man, I’ll kill you as well someday. No one escapes me. They can run but in the end, there’s only one fate that awaits all of us. Death.”

Hmmm, that Redguard was rather peculiar. Seems to me like Ra'trith is getting involved in something that goes beyond himself. We'll see how this all turns out I guess.

Hah! Ansei, shehai, all that good stuff! Brilliant!

OK, so I am a bit of a lore-freak. But just a little.

But again, brilliant!

Hey, I don't mind if you are a bit of a lore-freak. I tell you, it's easier to know such things than having to search the UESP all the time for information. (Imperial library gets blocked by my provider, unfortunately.)
Ah, the glories of updates and cameos. Enjoy.





The next morning, the city picked up its pace once more and its inhabitants were out on the streets. Two of them were standing near the wall of a random building. One of them was pinning a notice to said wall with the help of a small hammer and a few nails. The other eyed the streets and shifted in his armour nervously.
,,Calm down, Caius. You’re giving us a bad name like this.” The man with the hammer told his younger companion. Caius watched a passing Khajiit intensely for a moment.
,,I’m not sure if this is such a good idea, Berius.” He replied, pointing at the notice.

Berius had finished his work and now leaned casually against the wall.
,,Why not?” He asked with an interested voice.
,,Just read it.” Caius answered. The two looked at the notice they’d hung up together. Underneath the sketch of a random Khajiit’s face painted black was a message written in bold letters.

To all citizens of Cyrodiil. The person depicted on this notice is known as Ra’trith, who goes under the title ‘Embodiment of Darkness’. Said person is wanted by the Empire on the charges of: Treason, membership of the Dark Brotherhood, killing of guards, an attempted murder on a high-ranking member of the palace, the murder of a large number of loyal citizens, jailbreak and other charges which may come apparent at a later date.

If you see this person, warn the nearest guard officer so that this criminal can be brought to justice. Do not approach said person. Said person is known to be armed and extremely dangerous.

Signed: Jauffre, Blade.

Berius grumbled something under his breath.
,,Ah, he isn’t the most pleasant being I’m afraid.” He spoke more clearly. Caius nodded.
,,Which is exactly why I feel uncomfortable walking around like this. I’ve heard the rumours. This….monster has already slaughtered at least five of our comrades like sheep. He might also be responsible for a large number of killings all over the province. I feel as if I’m wearing a huge sign saying: I’m a Blade, come and kill me!” He exclaimed. Berius shook his head and brought a finger up to his lips.
,,Not so loud, you’re scaring everyone. Remember, as a Blade you have to assure the people that everything is right. The moment you start showing signs of fear, everyone else will start to panic.” He warned.

Caius pointed at the park where a Dunmer was telling a story to a Bosmer and an Imperial.
,,Say that those three will meet this Ra’trith. If he finds out they’ve been talking about him, how will we protect them from his wrath? If we can’t protect ourselves, then how can we protect anyone else?” He whispered. Berius shrugged.
,,That’s a hard question. Anyway, our job is done here. Let’s return to the barracks and get our scheduled task assignment for this week.” He offered. After a last look at the notice, they walked away.

,,And so the Tribunal claimed power over the House Dunmer. But it has been prophesized by Azura that one day, Nerevar shall return. He shall Slay the Devil in his lair and cast down the false gods who betrayed him. Then, Vvardenfell shall become fertile once more, the ash replaced by rain, the sand by grass. But when that will happen, no one knows.” Aran finished his story and sat down on the grass. Erinus handed him an apple and he took a bite from it.
,,What?” He asked when he noticed Rajn staring at him. The Bosmer frowned for a bit before answering.
,,Nothing. I’m just not used to vegetarians.”

,,Plants are a great source of strength, perhaps more so than the flesh of the creatures you kill. I have no qualms about taking an apple from a tree. The apple I take provides me with nutrition, while I spread its seeds to thank the tree that has fed me. What is so bad about my view? The tree won’t be harmed and I simply use that which would otherwise go to waste. Birds eat fruits, Deers graze on the grass. It is nothing unnatural.” Aran finished his explanation with another bite from the apple.
,,You’re not in Valenwood anymore. The customs here are different.” He added.

Rajn stretched and bent her leg a few times. The twitches had diminished greatly though they still returned from time to time.
,,Speaking of Valenwood, I want to go back there. I miss my home. As soon as I can walk, I’m out of here. Screw Cyrodiil, I’ve found nothing but trouble here.” She said unamused.
,,You did met us.” Erinus interjected.
,,I suppose. But still, I want to go home.”

The healer plucked a handful of grass and played with the green leaves absentmindedly, much to Rajn’s dismay.
,,They say that the war between Elsweyr and Valenwood has flared up again. I won’t stop you, but be careful if you go.” She advised.

,,Those stupid furbals with sand between their toes! Can’t they ever leave us alone? They’re always burning our forest and chopping our trees to pieces!” The Bosmer girl complained loudly. A Khajiit who passed the park at just that moment reared back his teeth in anger.
,,Shut up. Can’t you treehuggers leave us alone? You always have to expand your precious forest into our lands.” He hissed. Aran stepped between the two before a fight could erupt.
,,Bring peace into your hearts and souls! I will not let violence and bloodshed taint this garden!” He spoke with an voice that would not tolerate any protests. The Khajiit bared his fangs at the man who’d dared to interfere but chose to heed his advice when the man looked at him without fear.

The moment the Khajiit was out of earshot, Aran turned towards the still fuming Bosmer.
,,You’ll see that in this world, there are always two sides to a story. You lay the blame on the Khajiit, the Khajiit lay the blame on the Bosmer. If two sides blame each other, then who has right and justice on their side? No one. Remember that.” Having said his lesson, he sat down again and continued eating his apple as if nothing had happened. Rajn sat down after a moment as well and continued her own lunch which consisted of fish and bacon.
,,Two sides? I wonder where he learned that nonsense.”

Great update man, really good. Enter the Blades, as if the water wern't already murky enough for our heroes

I really hate to double post, particularly when this topic isn't about your story Jack, and when the question itself is entirley n00by but my post did have the edit button so...

Having gone through these forums I think I'm comfotable enough to start posting my own story. However when I go to start a new topic in the Fan Fiction section, it just says that I don't have permission to start a new topic. If any of you guys could tell the n00b what he's doin wrong, I'd appreciate it.

Can't wait for the next update Jack, keep em' commin"

Forum rules: You can't start a new topic until you've got enough posts under your belt. I'm not sure what the number is--it's not too high. I'd suggest commenting on a few other stories. That would be the easiest and best way to roll up a few more posts. Have you voted in the most recent Clash of the Titans thread? We could use a tie-breaker.

Edit: Oh, and my compliments on the continued postings Jack. The little details (like the discussion on cross-cultural dietary customs) are nice.

Yeah, it's a relatively new rule. Ever since we had an invasion of certain unwanted elements who wanted a datingsite or something. Anyway, you've got the required number of posts now and I've seen that you make good use of your topic starting powers.

Anyway, back to the story. This update marks the end of chapter 2. I noticed that the chapters are a bit short here but I don't mind. Normally I totally forget to change chapters which gets kind of annoying after a while. Well then, enjoy.




Dust floated through the air in the attic, lit by a few rays of light that passed through the various cracks in the roof. A soft squeaking was the only sound that originated from inside the attic. It was nearly drowned out by the noise from the streets outside. A new sound, one of parting air. Then, the squeeking was abruptly cut off by a loud thump.

Ra’trith opened his eyes as he woke up. He looked at the death rat he held in his paw.
,,Breakfast is served.” He thought slightly amused and ate the rat raw, skin and all. He licked the blood off of his claws and leaned against a wooden beam as he replaced his sleep with a light nap. Those who knew him might have noticed that the snarl on his face was one of his more rare ones. This snarl was not one of anger, or bloodlust, or savage pleasure. This was one of worry.
,,Vincente. Out of all people, why you?”

The tiny hut was covered in darkness, shadow upon shadow. A heavy smell filled the air, a smell that had a profound effect on the two sole living inhabitants. To one of them, this smell was a part of his everyday life. To the other, it was a new smell. Full of mystery and hidden promise. To him, this smell was unknown though he would become intricately familiar with it over the following years. It was the smell of blood.

The one who knew this smell bent down over a still form in the middle of the room. With a pale hand that shone in the moonlight, he gripped the hilt of a cruel dagger and wrenched it free from its victim. There was a soft wheeze when the blade was withdrawn from the Khajiit’s lung. Then, the Khajiit abandoned this world forever. The pale hand stabbed the dagger into the other forms systematically till its owner had assured himself that the entire Khajiit family had died.

The dagger was brought up to a mouth. A tongue, as pale as the hand, licked the blade clean of blood.
,,Fresh blood, delicious.” The man spoke. He looked upon the gruesome scene and smiled, proud of a job well done.
,,Sithis will be pleased. Well then, it’s time to leave. I want to be out of this forsaken desert before the sun rises.” He whispered to himself, sheathed his dagger and stepped over the pile of corpses towards the entrance.

Unexpectedly, a sharp pain stabbed through his ankle. Annoyed, he looked down. There was nothing visible in the darkness of the hut. Only a row of tiny white teeth glistened as they dug deeper into his flesh. A pair of bright yellow eyes opened and bore into his. The man reached for his dagger again to kill the young Khajiit when something else caught his eye. Numerous little sparks of light danced around the small creature’s claws. When one spark touched the man’s foot, he screamed out in pain.

Instantly, the silence outside was ripped apart. Voices shouted, rusty iron was drawn out of leather scabbards. The man bent down and grabbed the Khajiit around the neck. He pulled the child away from his foot and held it up in front of his face.
,,Now look what you’ve done. I’d hoped to do this without being discovered.” He whispered hatefully. His expression softened somewhat, turning into a calculating one.
,,Hmm, your will is unusual. A child, barely a few months old and already you’ve achieved a level most Redguards can only dream about. And your fur, it’s the perfect camouflage during the night. Finally, you show the desire to kill.” He wrapped his cloak around the little bundle of fur.
,,Yes, I think that training you will be very profitable.” He spoke, louder this time. He then burst out of the hut and vanished into the night, dashing past the confused Khajiit before they knew what was among them.

Ra’trith awoke from his nap.
,,You took me with you to Cheydinhall and taught me every trick you know.” He spoke without a sound. He looked at his claws.
,,Yet somewhere during your training, I lost the ability to form the sparks that caused you so much pain. Was this a deliberate action on your part? I was more dangerous to you then than I am now. Did you make me lose that talent so I would be unable to hurt you?”

He got up and stretched his muscles.
,,I’ll relearn it. Only better this time. You will die Vincente, and I will be the bringer of your doom.” He promised. Ra’trith then wrapped his black cloak around him and climbed onto the roof from where he could lower himself into an alley. He walked swiftly across the street. His plan was to leave the city as soon as possible. It would really surprise him if he wasn’t a wanted man yet, especially in the city where he nearly claimed the Emperor’s life.

A large group of people had gathered in front of one particular wall. The Khajiit walked over to join them and looked at the large Wanted notice pinned to the wall. He grinned in amusement.
,,Why did they drew my ears so big? What do they think I am, a rabbit?” He stopped grinning when a pair of Bretons pointed at him and began to whisper amongst themselves, obviously under the illusion that he hadn’t noticed them. Ra’trith calmly walked over to them.
,,Is something the matter?” He asked with his most pleasant voice. The effect was still better suited to instil fear than to cause a feeling of friendliness.

,,Oh no, not at all. We were just looking at the picture up there and noticed that your fur colour shows some resemblance. Just a coincidence, we’re sure.” The couple told him nervously. Around them, a gap was created which made the Bretons even more nervous. Ra’trith gave them one of his favourite snarls.
,,Just a coincidence indeed. That sketch is so wrong. The ears are to big for one thing and those eyes, much too far apart. The information they’ve put underneath is far from sufficient as well. They forgot the destruction of the shrine of Talos.” He told them, looking them in the face. His nose caught the heavy smell of their fear.

He leaned in closer.
,,Now I would be more than willing to kill you. However, I am on a tight schedule and don’t have time to loiter and enjoy the simple pleasures of murder. If you value the life of your guardsmen, you won’t send them after me. Have a nice day.” He whispered in their ear and walked away through the crowd.


,,And here’s the Roseworks office. From here, you should be able to get a ride with a caravan to Valenwood.” Erinus said and hugged the little Bosmer.
,,Good luck.” She added.
,,Sure, thanks for the leg again. Bye.” Rajn replied and went inside.

The Roseworks office was dimly lit by only a few candles, creating large and deep shadows. Rajn closed her eyes and counted to ten slowly, still standing in the doorframe. While she wasn’t on the verge of panicking anymore, she still suffered from claustrophobia. Having calmed her mind, she walked over to the counter and leaned heavily on the wood. The girl wrinkled her nose as she caught sight of the large amount of wood that had been used in the interior.
,,Barbarians.”

An aging Imperial with a really big nose looked up from his notebook.
,,Can I help you?” He asked with the bored voice of a man who only offered to help because he got paid for it.
,,I want to book passage to Valenwood.” The Bosmer replied uneasily. The bored tone combined with the dark shadows and the heavy use of wood made her nervous.

With deliberately slowed movements, the clerk retrieved a map of Valenwood from the rack behind him.
,,Where exactly in Valenwood?” He inquired.
,,Anywhere, though Fallinesti would be best.” Rajn answered with a shrug. Now the Imperial picked up a quill and began to fill in a form.
,,This form will grant you permission to join our caravans. Just show it to the caravan master and you’ll be on your way before you know it. What’s your name?”

,,Rajn Treesap.” The clerk retreated into a back room, muttering something about placing a stamp on the form. From one of the shadows behind the Bosmer came an Argonian whose red scales matched his red clothes.
,,Step outside.” He ordered the girl. When she didn’t respond immediately, he revealed a dagger and pressed the tip against her back.
,,Now.” He hissed with a heavy accent.