The Dark Operation, Always-He-Lingers-in-the-Sun is back for more... in Cyrodiil. Options

[canis216]

Note: Yes, I will be finishing the original (and working on the 2nd) A.H.L.i.t.S. story eventually, but I've been on an Oblivion playing binge so I figured I'd strike while the game is still fresh for me. Without further ado...
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1.

Weynon Priory, Imperial Province

Jauffre’s lips eased into a droll smile when saw the figure in black approaching, up the stars. “What news from Morrowind, Always-He-Lingers-in-the-Sun?” The figure in black pulled back his hood, revealing a red-brown, and scarred, argonian face. The grin was toothy, and Jauffre was reminded of the Naga from Waughin Jarth’s newest fiction. Jauffre thought it was fiction, at least.

“Call me Al, please. With Helseth consolidating his power, and everything else, I think I’ll be a frequent visitor.” The argonian handed over a large, sealed envelope.

“I imagine so… Al. How is the courier business treating you?”

“I have no complaints. I haven’t had to break into anyone’s home in six months.”

“Is that so? You did that a lot in the old days?”

“Almost as often as I cut a man’s throat.”

At that Jauffre’s eyes darted down to his katana. Quietly, he said, “I remember.” They were quiet for a moment, the two Blades, now a monk and a courier. The courier turned to leave, almost plowing into Brother Piner—running up the stairs.

“Jauffre! Jauffre! The emperor has been assassinated!”

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Shadow’s Gate Cornerclub, Kragenmoor, Province of Morrowind

A puff of skooma smoke on the air. “Full report.”

“My horse pulled up lame on the way down from the pass, while I was trying to outrun a bandit. I killed the bandit; claimed 342 septims from the body, some family’s jewels. Sold the jewels and the horse in Cheydinhal.”

“Healing magic didn’t work on Many-Gallops?”

A swig of beer. Old rhetorical trick—very common in the west. “Right. Well, it worked, but only well enough to trot into Cheydinhal. I’ve had an eye on a black horse anyway.”

“You bought one?”

“I call her ‘Outruns-Bandits’. Very fast. I included the receipt in my written report.”

“Fine. Go on.”

“Anyway, there wasn’t any trouble the rest of the way I couldn’t outrun. I collected the most recent reports from the Palace and the Prison, and stayed overnight in the Market District. In the morning I made for the monastery and delivered the package to our colleague there. And then I discovered that Uriel and all of his heirs had been killed. I think I broke all land speed records on the way back here.”

“You were right to do so, friend. The times demand urgency.”

“We don’t have orders from the City already, do we? I don’t think I could wrap my brain around that kind of efficiency from the Elder Council.”

A smile. “No, Al. I’m expecting some sort of word from the Council by tomorrow, though. And I can guess what they’ll say.”

“So can I. ‘Stay put, we can’t afford instability in the provinces.’ So very predictable.” Another swig of beer. A nod and a puff of smoke from the other side of the table, rueful.

The beer drinker went on. “You know Caius, we must be quite the sight. Me in my all black with half-a-dozen empty beer bottles in front of me. You in that ridiculous monk’s robe—with skooma! We never change, do we?”

“So very predictable.”

This post has been edited by canis216: Jul 4 2009, 06:05 PM

[canis216]

Post-machine!
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4.

A Letter

C,

As instructed, I have purchased quarters in the Imperial City. As you know, housing in the imperial capital is of limited availability. It cost me 2000 drakes to buy a shack in the Waterfront District. I could have rented a room, of course, but I felt that such an arrangement would have been both prohibitively expensive (even the bloody boarding house would have cost me 200 drakes a month) and something of a security risk. See my expense report (attached) for additional details.

The shack is bare, but serves my purposes. The bed is worn but comfortable; the local beggars are fair-to-good sources of information, though I marvel at how the self-proclaimed center of civilization on Nirn could harbor such destitution. Flawed as it was, at least the dunmer Temple provided for the poor.

But I digress. I know that you enjoy the digressions, but I mean to get back to business.

I accosted one of the local beggars, whose name I shall omit lest this communication be intercepted, and asked if he knew of any local skooma dens. As you should recall, we discussed skooma dens as an acceptable starting point to qualify for entrance into the order in question. After a payment of 20 septims the beggar allowed that he didn’t know of any dens in the City, but that he had heard of such an establishment (if you could call one that) in the city of Bravil. I signaled my gratitude with an additional 20 septims. Again, this is all in my expense report.

After taking lunch on the Bloated Float, a ship-borne tavern and inn, I mounted Outruns-Bandits and rode south and southeast to Bravil. I estimate the ride at four hours, with a brief stop to dispatch a bandit in the process of holding up a breton woman. Suffice it to say he was surprised to take a viper-bolt to the back of the head while he perused the lady’s jewelry. As you know my crossbow is nearly worn out from use, and more or less beyond repair. I think that Sirollus Saccus in Ebonheart could fix it, but of course I am no longer in Ebonheart. It was fortunate then, to find an ebony long bow on the bandit’s corpse.

I purchased arrows from a fletcher’s shop upon arriving in Bravil. I did not sell my crossbow—sentimental value. I also commissioned a set of glass arrows (to be delivered in a week) to meet my particular specifications, which you well know.

Once in Bravil, not caring to search very hard, I simply paid another beggar 20 gold to pass me the local skooma den’s location. Gold in hand, she was more than happy to oblige. Information in tow, I rented a room and took dinner at the Lonely Suitor Lodge, in the south of town. I also indulged in an ale or five. This, again, is on the expense report.

After dinner I retired to my room, sleeping until about 2 A.M. At that time I gathered up my tools and crossed the canal to the north side of Bravil, where I found the door to the skooma den securely locked—I felt five tumblers, what the Cyrodiils call “very hard”. As you know my skills in breaking and entering are a little rusty, so I am ashamed to admit that I broke 2 picks on the lock. It won’t happen again. (The picks are, of course, on the expense report).

Now, for the inside. The den was in two levels. There was a pair of beds on the first floor, one occupied by a khajiit male. He smelled of skooma, far more than even you. I’m still amazed you can function (as you say you are amazed at me). But that was another digression. I slit the khajiit’s throat with my ebony shortsword, not wishing to waste Kills-You-Dead on an addict.

Upstairs I found another khajiit male, and in addition a nord male and a breton female. I cut their throats in the same manner as described above.

I was finished cleaning up the scene at roughly 3:30 A.M. I am, as you know, nothing if not meticulous. After exiting the scene I rode immediately for the Imperial City, arriving at roughly 7:45 A.M. I posted this report in the mail at 11:00 A.M. If what the prisoner said is true, I will be contacted by the organization in question as I sleep. If what the prisoner said is not true, you (and he) will be seeing me shortly.

Regards,

A.H.L.i.t.S.

This post has been edited by canis216: Jul 4 2009, 06:06 PM