Blood of the Kyn, Volume II Options

[Dantrag]

Click for Volume I

The start of Volume II; where stuff actually starts to happen. Enjoy.

Chapter 1 - Tensions

I am lost. Azyrek recited the words in his mind as he stood in the center of the Plaza Brindisi Dorom, in front of a beautifully sculpted pair of statues. He looked around one time to make sure there were no prying eyes.

His lips finally moved to form the words, and he felt a slight rumble beneath his feet. He heard rock grinding rock and looked down to see one slowly descending. It was large enough to stand on, so he did. The dremora slowly fell into darkness on a magickally suspended stone.

Azyrek could see nothing in the darkness, but he could tell that he had reached the bottom of whatever pit the Brotherhood had sent him to.

"We've been expecting you, Brother," he heard, just before a torch was lit, "Welcome to Bamz-Amschend. Cemented over when the Plaza was repaired, but the Dark Brotherhood laid claim."

Azyrek could tell from the accent that his 'brother' was a native dunmer, though his face was masked.

"Thank you, Brother."

"I will show you to your room soon. First, you must follow me."

Azyrek followed the mer, and in the torchlight could see that they were in an old, old place. He had never seen any ruins such as these before. Judging by the machinery, they had to be from the dwemer. A stark contrast to the old Ayleid fortresses he would see in Cyrodiil. They went further down and eventually into a tunnel. The metal and stonework disappeared, making it obvious that it had been dug long since the dwemer walked the halls.

They came to a door, and the other assassin stood by it.

"The Speaker awaits you, Azyrek."

Azyrek opened the door to find a surprisingly homey room. The floors were wooden, though the walls were those of a natural cavern. There was a bed in the back corner, and to his left was a crackling fireplace. Arranged in a semicircle in front of it sat a sofa and chairs. On the sofa was another dunmer, who sat with his hands in front, hidden under the folds of his black robe. Much like Azyrek often did, he had a hood pulled low over his face.

"Greetings, Murderer. Vicente send word of your success and promotion. It seems Sithis and the Night Mother favor you."

Azyrek gave a slight bow. Noting that this dunmer was not native. It sounded like a dark elf from home would.

"I know you're weary from travel, so I will be brief. You are never to enter this Sanctuary again. The name of your first target is Temis Alam. He goes by the name Ras here, performing magick in the Bazaar. He is Morag Tong and I want him dead.

"Once he is dead, we will contact you. We have arranged for you a place to hide and begin your destiny."

"So...I have to leave now?"

"No, stay the night, and prepare tomorrow. You will leave us when night falls. Farewell, Murderer. The Night Mother expects great things of you."

Azyrek took his cue, said his goodbyes, and left the room. The dunmer was still outside the door with the torch. They walked further into the tunnels, and Azyrek was shown his room. It was nothing but a bed and a table with a jug of water, but it was all he needed. Too tired to think, he laid down and went to sleep.

This post has been edited by Dantrag: May 19 2010, 07:02 PM

[Dantrag]

Chapter 3 - Following his Footsteps

Rinori wandered muddy streets, barely noticing and not caring that the stuff was filling her boots as she walked. There was a storm in her head and a lump in her throat that reached all the way down to the depths of her chest. She was mentally and emotionally exhausted, not to mention shaken up from her scuffle with Narsa.

Back in Mournhold, not two hours before, she had tried relentlessly to wake Azyrek, but when she shook his shoulders the body had been stiff. There was no question that he was gone, and so were any answers she may have found. She fled the inn soon after, and gone straight to the guild guide. There was little thinking involved; somehow she knew where she needed to go.

Andrethis. It was a dirty settlement, composed of wooden ramshack buildings for the most part, with a few more solid structures. The people on the street were never lively, they always walked with downcast eyes and slumped shoulders. Perhaps her mood was altering her perceptions, but she didn't think so. She continued through the mud for a while before she realized she had no destination. Leaving Mournhold had felt so good she hadn't thought much past it. She stopped at the next inn she saw.

It was so dilapidated on the outside Rinori couldn't even read the sign. The door hung loose on its hinges, and because of its crooked stance, she could see a soft light from inside. With a shrug she walked in. It was surprisingly homey, though not much nicer on the inside than out.

"Welcome little lady," an old dunmer greeted, "Have a seat and I'll get you a drink to warm your belly."

Wonderful. He's talkative.

All she wanted was sleep, a time when she could forget everything, at least for a few hours. Even so, she sat down.

"So what'll it be?"

"Got brandy?"

"No, but you aren't the first to ask," he answered, "Greef, Sujamma, and Matze."

"Matze, then."

He put the bottle on the counter in front of her and turned away to wipe some mugs. Rinori took a few sips, staring blankly at the flickering flame of a candle. An inch must have melted away before she was brought back to reality.

"Are you hungry?" the barkeep asked.

She shook her head.

"You sure? You look a little pale. If you're short on gold-"

"No," she interrupted, "I can pay. Just not hungry. How much for a room?"

"Ten for the room, five for the drink," he said, handing her a key.

She dropped the coins beside her drink, picked up the bottle and turned to leave.

"Miss?"

She looked back.

"My name's Nevis. If you change your mind, breakfast is an hour after sunup."

Rinori nodded politely before seeking the comfort of sleep.