The Rightous Assassin, An Elder Scrolls Fan-Fiction Options

[Zalphon]

Prologue

My name is Quick-Strike. I have done things so horrible, they haunt my dreams every night. The worst of which being when the Dark Brotherhood ordered me to kill the entire Matius family. The only survivor was Savilian Matius, but I killed his little girl and his wife. That poor little girl, she still haunts my dreams. It was her fifth birthday...

That day was the day I began my revolution. I had cut all ties I had with the Brotherhood and began my career as an assassin of the Nine. Hunting down daedric worshippers, criminals, and street-thugs. With a prayer in the Temple of Mara, I firmly gripped my steel shortsword and steel dagger and donned my black-leather uniform.

Suddenly behind me appeared a tall, black-haired orc. "You killed Marza Gra-Baliz," he hissed. "That was my daughter, you pig. For this you'll die."

With haste, I put my weapons in their scabbards and kicked him in the chest. "Please, I don't want to fight," I pleaded. "I seek no trouble." In his orcish rage he charged. My fist went flying into his face and he fell to the ground, his nose bloodied and he was unconscious.

I bent down and felt for a pulse. There was none. Suddenly, two imperial legion troopers came over to me. "Hey, what have you done to this man?" they asked. "He's dead!"

The other hissed, "You're under arrest, Swamp-Slime."

I slammed their heads together and bolted past them. "Joy," I thought. "My first day of being a noble person and I already killed a man and assaulted two guards." Blood was on my hands, so I wiped it on my outfit.

The streets of the Imperial City were crowded and I had to wade through the people. I was a wanted man and I needed to get out of town. As I turned to look around, a club hit my skull. The last thing I saw was an Imperial Legion Guard with a smile on his face. The last thing I heard was, "Enjoy your time in prison, Murkscum..."

After that I faded into the realm of unconsciousness.

[Zalphon]

Chapter Two: The Legend of the Ebon Assassin

I wandered the filthy streets of Bravil. Paupers, beggers, peasants, they all gathered around this one elderly imperial. The imperial dressed in frayed clothing and bore a ragged, white haircut. "There was once an assassin who fought for nobility and justice," he told. "Honor, virtue, and a general sense of good guided his every move."

The elderly man continued, "His foot-steps left Reverent Clerics and Oathsworn Priests astonished at his dedication. He fought the 'good fight.' The man wore clothing as black as night, but had a heart as pure as gold."

I noticed I was still in my black-leather outfit which had a long, black cloak. I put the hood up and asked, "Does this assassin still live?"

"Nay," the Imperial sighed. "An Altmeri Noble killed him long ago. At least what little he cared about. He was never heard from again."

"Hmmm," I pondered. "Perhaps I could avenge the Ebon Assassin's death and that would put me on at least apprehensive terms with the Nine once again." After that I continued walking and found my mentor stalking me.

"Quick-Strike," He stated. "I have recieved word of a Cult of Sheogorath in the South. And I can tell you this. The Ebon Assassin is just a story.

"What do you mean?" I questioned.

"The old man is a skooma addict, Quick-Strike," Korvan grumbled. "He is just trying to get your gold. I sometimes wonder how you survived in the Dark Brotherhood with your simplistic and naive ways."

"Korvan, I am still young. Very young in fact. Only five years ago did I lick the Hist and gain this body. Forgive me," I whispered. "I have failed you."

"Quick-Strike, when I first became a bard," the Dunmer chuckled. "I almost killed my mentor when I cast a fireball spell on accident. Worry not, for if you pay attention to my teachings... When I must go, you'll be fine without me."

"Thank you," I nodded. "I think..."

I grew more suspicious of the Bard, but thanked him nonetheless for his guidance. But then, he dissapeared. A dervish-looking Bosmer came over to me. "Hey Murk-Slime," he intimidated. "Give me your drakes or I can take them, and your life."

With a deep sigh, I gently pulled out my weapons...