Anima di Nerezza Chapter 3, "The First Target" Options

[Sirin]

Anima di Nerezza

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3


The moon was high in the night sky, to be sure, but I could not identify my opponent. All I knew is that he was drenched in blood, and the guards had blood smeared all across their bodies. Two and two equals killer. I had my dagger at the ready, but he stood there carelessly, allowing me time to consider the situation.

My opponent was unarmed, which left me bewildered. How he could slaughter these men in such a fashion and remain unharmed himself was beyond me. As I mentioned, I could make out his form, but nothing of his features. I could describe his attitude though: bold. Foolish, at best. He still waited before me, awaiting my first attack. Judging by the massacred guards, my first move would have to be my last, for I didn’t wish to entertain this killer with a long fight. I had no doubt that, if given the time, things would go in his favor.

Numbly, I lunged at him. This was an odd feeling, for it seemed to not be my own. It was almost dreamlike. The bold man stood still, as if he accepted his fate and would have it no other way. My blade danced closer and closer to my foe, but time slowed, or so it seemed. I could perceive every individual drop of rain tumbling from the darkened sky. Closer I came to running the man through. Abruptly, he leaped at me to connect in a daring clash of steel and flesh.

The sound was peculiar, to say little. There was not the usual metallic noise as the blade slid into the body. Nor was there the barely audible clanking of steel on bone. In fact, the sight was unbelievable as well. The killer was gone. I landed from my lunge and stood alone in the cold rain. I saw no body, other than those previously there. But suddenly, a hard fist connected with my back, sending me flailing onto the soggy ground.

Rising again, I turned around to face my foe again. He stood in the same over-confident fashion as before, but this time he was crouched and held his hand out, clenched. As if he’d just punched someone. Well, at least I know it was him, and I didn’t just get dumped by some giant raindrop, I thought sarcastically.

“Now, how did you get back there?” I asked, not quite expecting an answer. I didn’t get one, either, but I could have sworn that the maniac smiled at me. He leapt at me this time, apparently impatient for his next kill. He wouldn’t get one, though. Just had to time my next stunt perfectly…

This post has been edited by Sirin: Mar 2 2006, 02:02 AM

[Sirin]

Part 6- Evil's Dawn


The Leaping Lion was no more energetic than the day before, but certainly no less. Thankfully, Minjer, the disfigured Bosmer, was nowhere to be seen. I imagined that he must have done away with ale, fearing that his next barroom encounter could be his last. Therefore, I enjoyed my drinks in peace.

With Vercindelle, having strong connections with those who owned the Leaping Lion, all of my drinks were free. I delighted in this bonus, and used it to its full extent. I quietly nursed a mug of the finest ale the tavern served, trying to forget the events of the past evening. But, in spite of my attempts, the memories resurfaced.

The very presence of the Redguard Stranger disturbed me to no end. He seemed to not favor any faction, but was at the Gallias estate in relation to his own agenda. What his agenda was, I knew not. I have said before that he had no wish to end my life after he learned that Dante Gallias was long gone. That pointed out that he obviously was not another assassin. Then what was he? was the overbearing question in my head. Was he really in league with Geryss? But, if so, that conflicted with my continued existence. Was he somehow connected with the presence of the Thing?

This seemed to be the only sensible option. Were Geryss to attempt to do me in, surely he would have done it himself. But if the Thing and the Stranger had been there together… No, this was indeed not a sensible option. The Thing seemed to be there to kill, and the Stranger was there to protect, or so I thought. If they had both been there to save Gallias’ life, the senseless killing of the night watch would ultimately defeat the purpose.

Footsteps. Oh no, was my first thought, he’s here. By “he”, of course, my alcohol-driven brain meant “Mehrunes Dagon.” Perhaps, in the midst of the drunken chaos that was my brain, I must have slipped into a hallucination. Perhaps, or perhaps not. The Daedra have strange ways of communicating to us mortals, this much is true. The roar of the Leaping Lion slowly dulled out to make way for the soft patter of footsteps. Bare feet were walking across the wooden floor towards me. The commotion stopped altogether. Not a soul moved or breathed, yet no one screamed in alarm, either. I glanced to my side and saw several Nords engaged in a frozen conversation. The busy flow of time ceased to move, and the only thing alive was me. And these footsteps.

They grew louder with every passing second, or the equivalent of a second in frozen time. My heart started beating faster and faster. Sweat formed all across my body. I almost felt my pupils gradually expanding. One feeling swept over me, a universal dread. A fear of the greatest proportions. Perhaps I was to die? Regardless, I was terrified.

I stood and turned, facing my nightmare. A girl, it was. A small girl. She was dressed in rags, if one can even call them that. Her face was emotionless, devoid of any feeling. Her eyes, however, were alive. They were such lovely colors: red for one, blue for another. She reached forward, so very carefully, with pale hands. My body trembled from top to bottom. Completely controlled by some foreign power, my hands reached out for hers. Our hands touched; darkness sprang forth.