The Balance: The Neutral Spider, From the Office of Laegus Hawkherd Options

[Red]

Well, this is the starting of my new, hopefully longer living Fan Fiction. This is a very rough draft, AKA only edited and re-edited about 7 times. I know, I'm such a prefectionis. Anyways, this is an odd little gem that I have been kicking around for a while, and the name will soon mean something. Also, please reply with any comments and critiques, nagative or positive. And now, I'm off, and the story is starting. *Dissapears in a cloud of smoke*



CHAPTER ONE: The Trigger

The one question people love to ask me the most is definitely how. How I could just stroll in and out of a murder scene without any thought at all. How I could have evaded the law for so long even though I was so social. How I could possibly fit the accusations against me, and how the crimes could even be possible. I always answer these questions the same way, the cold stare they expect to see.

Lets back up a few years though, so you can understand me the way not many people can. I am Ordras Morvayn, surprisingly good-looking blacksmith living in Cyrodiil. The whole twisted, downward spiral I have been living in as of late started like most stories haven’t. Not with me angry, or happy, or doing anything interesting at all. My ash skinned hide was fast asleep on my soft, comfy bed. I wasn’t dreaming (though I wish I was because it would make this a little more interesting), nor was I looking into a black abyss for hours like normal. It was fast asleep, as in when you fall asleep and feel like you’ve napped for ten seconds. I woke up suddenly, though not groggy, not in pain, not covered in blood, but awake at least. Looking around my large, cluttered room; I noticed how early it was, as the candle I had lit earlier was still aflame. I walked through my room door, past the door of my currently travelling co-worker and past the door where my boss slept before he could afford a real house. After walking a few steps more and jumping down the stairs, all two of them, I was in the smithing room. Here, is where our story bursts from a dull cocoon and spreads the wings of an interesting plot twist.

A tall figure, at least a head taller then me, stood in the smithing room above a body. He wore loose, black leather pants with belts wrapped around various places. A dark cloak over a barely visible shirt ensured I had no guess to his weight, though he looked like he was quite lean from the little of him I could see, and he wore a Netch leather helm painted black. He looked like he killed Hitmen in his spare time. I looked at him, a monstrous looking killer clad in black, and he looked at me, an easy target Dark Elf clad in baggy underwear. He laughed a long, hardy laugh and reached into the pack on his back. I froze. He revealed something, but not a weapon. He threw a shirt and a pair of pants at me. I looked at him hard, and then the dead body of an Altmer he stood above. No one I worked with, my strange Nordic boss thought my co-worker and I were more than enough to do all the smith work his clients required. “Now” the stranger said with a booming voice, pointing at the clothes. I put them on quickly, nearly putting my head through an armhole. I can honestly say I have never felt a material so soft. Funny the things you notice while in shock fearing you might die.

The stranger blindfolded me, but he did it with care and believe you me, that wasn’t expected. He led me a few steps and then picked me up, which was probably awkward for I was pretty tall myself, and placed me in what seemed to be a cart. I heard the braying, naying and bustling of horses and then his dark, booming voice once again. “Close your eyes and your mind, Dark Elf, and fall asleep like you had been earlier” He was definitly a Dark Elf and before I could even think of something to say, I blurted out a blind sentence. “Are you violent?” I barely knew what I meant I was so sleepy and confused, but he did. He took a deep, calming breath before speaking. “No, and you can think of me as a friend as soon as you wake” he said it calmly and in a way only a good friend would, and sounded like he was smiling. What a gentleman.

This post has been edited by Red: Feb 27 2006, 04:10 AM

[Red]

And on the seventh day, God created updates. The update will be up in like, three minutes so I can quick edit for flow and detail. Then the next update will be late. Maybe a day, maybe two, maybe a week. Hell, maybe I'll scrap the entire FF!

I had no dreams that night, which surprised me greatly. After being kidnapped by a gentleman killer, you expect to see something. Strange that I barely thought about the severity of my situation when I first awoke, as if I had known the stranger for ten years. A pair of hands reached down to me and gently removed my blindfold, and my eyes slowly adjusted. A kind, young looking Dark Elf face was hovering over mine. A smile was placed upon his, which was quite strange to see on a kidnapper. “I am deeply sorry about the whole kidnapping thing, but I’ll have you know that you are in quite a grand position. Well, despite the ropes” he said. I smiled, noticing the ropes around my hands and feet. I had been sleeping in a bed, I realized, as my senses came to me. “I some how doubt that, sir?” I asked and was quickly replied with “Sir. Ortei Draen, as of today, former assassin for very select clients”. My face went dumb. It was locked in the smile I was formerly wearing. He stopped hovering over me and climbed off the bed I was tied to. “Wait just a second, I’ll be back”.

I couldn’t decide what emotion to be stricken with. Fear, terror, confusion, they were all so tempting. He came back with a chest in his hands. Great, he has a chest of many weapons. A medley of maniacal masterpieces. Won’t this be a terrible day? “Stamped notes and contracts, friend” he said, laughing. I was sweating and getting ready to tear through the ropes. He walked over to me, placing the chest upon the bed, and untied the ropes. “I know you’re a little terrified of my former, occupation, but let me show you something,” he said, unlocking the chest and pulling out a piece of old, worn paper. I sat on the side of the bed and looked at the document, or what I could see. “This is a paper with the description of a target I had a few years ago. Now, I’m no fan of death and killing, but there are a few special exceptions. Oray Verlo is his name, a strange name especially for a Breton, or at least I think so. Any way, he was a rich, young and popular member of the city of Vivec who owned many businesses in the Foreign Quarter. He was though highly of, and yet, found dead in his home, smelling of liquor. Why? Because he had used the Morag Tong to kill a shop owner in Balmora, a guard in Ald’Ruhn and the brother of an Ordinator. I do not kill, I balance” he was talking calmly, which scared and amazed me at the same time.

“We don’t murder as the blood thirsty monsters of the Dark Brotherhood do, or kill with blind word for clients like the Morag Tong. We study our enemies, we find out their problems and perks, the injustices they have committed and even the people they have helped. If we find that their crimes are too large to possibly be allowed, we fix them. Whether the repair is threatening, persuasion, thievery or killing, we make sure the world is balanced” and with that he left and closed the door, but not before he packed up the chest and dropped a note on the floor.

I got up and looked around the room for something to wear, as I was still wearing the clothes Ortei had me put on during the kidnapping. I looked in the Wardrobe beside the bed I had awoke in and found only papers and assorted jewellery in the first three shelves, but some very fine, expensive pants, a beautiful shirt and a pair of shoes I recognized from a nobleman who had once bought one of my swords. “Hmm” I thought “he did kidnap and frighten me nearly to death, I think he owes me a little more than clothing”. I opened the second shelf and took out some of the rings, necklaces and amulets. A glass ring on my left middle finger and a ruby ring on my right. I put two necklaces around my neck, both metal with a small pendant on each. The rest of the jewellery I placed in my pockets.

I walked toward the door so I could try talking myself out of this mess and put my hand on the knob when I remembered something. During my time as a master thief, the thought of the note left my mind. I walked back to the piece of paper and picked it up. It was stamped in numerous places, including over the text by some one name Rainad Rawkil. It was written in the type of handwriting you would expect a king to have, or at least a duke.

Dear hearing,

You have been selected to become a member of our wonderful organization. You have been watched and found to be an extraordinary candidate worthy of an occupation in our ranks. Whether you are a warrior, a mage or what have you, we require your assistance in our war on imbalance. The karmatic battle if you will. If you agree, take a minute to think about your decision, for your head might be in the wrong place. If you agree after, you are a perfect candidate, and should talk to the person you have received this note from. If you do not accept, it was never meant to be, and you will be forced, through magick, to forget this whole ordeal.

Regards,

Rainad Rawkil,
The Office of Laegus Hawkherd.

Well, isn’t that nice, I’m an assassin or an amnesia victim. I pocketed the piece of paper and opened the door.

This post has been edited by Red: Feb 28 2006, 12:46 AM