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 Four: The Red Dragon Tavern

Night was on the horizon and I knew what'd happen if I stayed in the streets. Of all the inns and taverns in Bravil I walked into the Red Dragon Tavern. It had a warm hearth that embers flickered out of into non-existance after touching the wooden floor. Five rooms each with a bed and the smell of rat-stew filled my nostrils.

The Innkeeper wore a long, blue skirt and a blue, long-sleeved shirt. She was a high elf with golden skin and pyrite hair. Her eyes scanned me up and down, she was young in body, but I could tell she was old in age. Near her was a young breton adolescent. She wore a loincloth, a brasierre, slave bracers, and a rope that served as a leash around her neck. Her hair was chocolate-brown and she was as pale as could be.

In the corner was a man with a black-cloak's hood up and black-leather armor similar to my own. "Innkeep, how much for a room?" I asked politely.

"With Evangeline," she said. "fifteen septims, without ten septims."

"I'll have her come with me," I stated as I pulled out fifteen septims. I laid them on the counter and the Breton handed me the end of her leash.

When we got to my room, I closed the door and whispered, "Why do you stay here?"

"I'm a sla--indentured servant. If I even attempt to leave, my master will have me killed," she wimpered. Tears ran down her face, her oceanic-blue eyes were wet.

"Who is the son of a scamp?" I questioned. "No one deserves to be a slave. I used to be one, to a man named Alu'Kar Broodikus, however he died a long time ago."

"We know him as, Kristopher Dren," Evangeline said at a barely audible volume.

"Kristopher Dren?" I asked. "The Lord of Bravil? Lord Kristopher Dren?"

"The one and only," she nervously responded. "Please, don't."

I drank from a vial of sleeping poison. Due to my heritage, it had absolutely no affect on me. She glanced at me as I drank from the bottle of 'Cyrodiilic Brandy.' I kissed her on the lips and instantaneously Evangeline was asleep. With my dextrous skill I crawled out the window into the night.

Lord Kristopher Dren was going to die, tonight. Slavery is one of the few things I've never been able to tolerate. I haven't before, nor will I start now...