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]

25.

Journal of a Blades Assassin: Cheydinhal

First things first: I walked over to the east side of town, into the “abandoned” house, and down to the basement lair of the Dark Brotherhood.

I ran into Vicente Valtieri almost immediately.

“Ah, so Motierre has escaped? Well done! As payment, I am pleased to award you this amulet, Cruelty's Heart, as well as another advancement in rank.” The vampire handed me a heavily enchanted amulet, which I pocketed. Like everything else I received from the Dark Brotherhood, I intended to dispose of it. Valtieri continued on, saying, “I hereby bestow upon you the title of Eliminator. Your blood is cold, your heart hard. You exemplify everything the Dark Brotherhood stands for.”

Exemplify everything the Dark Brotherhood stands for?! I felt an impulse to vomit, though I did my damnedest to remain impassive on the exterior. My eyes nearly glazed over as Valtieri droned on, awarding me a key to the well that served as the quick-and-easy entry into the underground sanctuary. The vampire spent a full minute standing before me, smiling beatifically, waiting for my (no doubt grateful) response to the honor. Finally I asked about my next contract. That made him even happier, it seemed.

“Well now, you are an ambitious one, aren't you? I'm afraid I have no more contracts for you. Our time working together has come to an end. Instead, you must report to Ocheeva, here in the Sanctuary. She will be providing all your contracts from now on, and is waiting for you as we speak. Before you go, however, I intend to make good on an offer I made some time ago. As a vampire, I may pass my gift on to others as I see fit. You have served me well, and I choose now to extend that gift to you. Shall I use my dark powers and turn you into a vam…”

I interrupted, holding up my hand. “The answer is no, Vicente. No and never, as in I’ll never do it and you’ll never ask me ever again.”

And I left him standing there. Strangely, his smile seemed to grow wider than ever.

* * *

After a brief rendezvous with Teinaava to hand over the “proof” that I had killed Scar-Tail, the rogue Shadowscale, I stepped inside Ocheeva’s quarters.

“I’ve come for orders,” I announced. “Vicente told me to see you.”

She looked up from a sheath of papers, still carrying a look of mild scorn on her face. She still didn’t trust me—a reasonable stance, considering how I had betrayed and nearly torn apart the Shadowscales. If I weren’t now a member of her organization she would have attacked me on sight. She glanced back down at the papers, then finally said, “Hmph. Your target is a High Elf named Faelian. He lives somewhere in the Imperial City, and fancies long walks. Unfortunately, that's all we know. We don't know which district he calls home, which establishments he frequents, or anything about his schedule. This contract will require a bit of detective work. I suggest you speak to your fellow Brothers and Sisters and see if they can offer any advice.” She paused for a moment, thinking. “Ah yes, there is one more thing. The Imperial City is also home to an Imperial Legion captain named Adamus Phillida. Do you know who that is?”

I shrugged my shoulders, but otherwise remained impassive. I remembered, however that he was a big shot in the Legion—

“Heed my words. Phillida has dedicated his life to eradicating the Dark Brotherhood. He will not tolerate our operations within the Imperial City.”

—and that he was pursuing a vendetta against the Brotherhood. I pick pocketed him, once. Why was I now getting the feeling that our paths would cross again?

In any case, Ocheeva continued on. “When that happens, he tends to make our lives uncomfortable. Let's not give the good captain any reason to go poking around in our affairs, hmm? If possible, do away with Faelian someplace out of the way. Definitely indoors, with no other people around. A secure location, with no witnesses. This will make it look like a simple murder—you can do simple, right? Now get out of my sight.”

Happy to oblige. I spent another hour lurking in the sanctuary, gathering what intelligence I could (not for the contract, but for my report to Caius) before leaving the foul dark of the lair for the warmth, comfort, and familiarity of a glass of ale at Newlands Lodge. My remaining business would have to wait for the morning.

This post has been edited by canis216: Jul 4 2009, 06:36 PM