A tall brooding figure looked over the landscape, from the atop a sigil keep in Oblivion... The man reflected on how many years ago he was made the ultimate pawn of the Deadric princes.

That was 113 years ago, yet it felt like yesterday. Orphaned shortly after birth, he had grow up as an assassin of the Morag Tong, in Vardenfell, one of the best among his peers. But when the Dark Brotherhood came to Morrowind, it all went wrong. The small enclave that he was being trained at was raided.

Though he and the other Morag Tong fought and killed many of the intruders, Revan was separted from the Morag Tong by the Dark Brotherhood assassins.
Disheartened by the deaths of those he'd grown up with, he refused to go to another guild hall. For many years, Revan moved restlessly, his heart hardened until he became solitary and distrusting of others in general.

Over those long 120 years I've worked with almost every Deadric Prince. He thought to himself.

Azura, Maphala, Mehrunes Dagon, and Hurcine had used him to accomplish things beyond their devine influence. Revan had done much: plundering, medling with other lord's affairs, and such. As he stalked down the hallway several dramora were gorging themselves on roasted flesh.
Revan despised them and saw them as simple brutes in that repulsive, jagged armor of theirs. In contrast, his armor was light-wieght, smooth, and flexible. The woven underlayer of the armor was as black as the ebony, while the pauldrons, greaves, boots, gauntlets, cuirass, and helmet were a light red shade.

The hellish landscape of Mehrunes Dagon's domain greeted him as he exited the keep. While the mortal world was still protected from Oblivion, Revan could summon a small tear in the devine barrier. The journey from Oblivion by these means was as comfortable to say the least. There was no light, but it was not the sacred darkness of night.

The rift opened a few feet of the ground and Revan landed feet-first in a patch of snow. The cold didn't bother him, he couldn't feel it through his armor. I should take my time, anything to stall returning to find another job....

Despite his dislike of snow, Revan found the Jerall Mountains more appealing than Lord Dagon's realm. Casting a glance up the road, he spotted his targets' not-so-secure hideout: Bruma. So, an entire vampire clan, should be interesting.....

This post has been edited by Lord Revan: May 24 2007, 06:40 PM