Revan part 1, My first fan fic. Options

[Lord Revan]

A tall brooding figure looked over the landscape, from the atop a sigil keep in Oblivion... The man reflected on how many years ago he was made the ultimate pawn of the Deadric princes.

That was 113 years ago, yet it felt like yesterday. Orphaned shortly after birth, he had grow up as an assassin of the Morag Tong, in Vardenfell, one of the best among his peers. But when the Dark Brotherhood came to Morrowind, it all went wrong. The small enclave that he was being trained at was raided.

Though he and the other Morag Tong fought and killed many of the intruders, Revan was separted from the Morag Tong by the Dark Brotherhood assassins.
Disheartened by the deaths of those he'd grown up with, he refused to go to another guild hall. For many years, Revan moved restlessly, his heart hardened until he became solitary and distrusting of others in general.

Over those long 120 years I've worked with almost every Deadric Prince. He thought to himself.

Azura, Maphala, Mehrunes Dagon, and Hurcine had used him to accomplish things beyond their devine influence. Revan had done much: plundering, medling with other lord's affairs, and such. As he stalked down the hallway several dramora were gorging themselves on roasted flesh.
Revan despised them and saw them as simple brutes in that repulsive, jagged armor of theirs. In contrast, his armor was light-wieght, smooth, and flexible. The woven underlayer of the armor was as black as the ebony, while the pauldrons, greaves, boots, gauntlets, cuirass, and helmet were a light red shade.

The hellish landscape of Mehrunes Dagon's domain greeted him as he exited the keep. While the mortal world was still protected from Oblivion, Revan could summon a small tear in the devine barrier. The journey from Oblivion by these means was as comfortable to say the least. There was no light, but it was not the sacred darkness of night.

The rift opened a few feet of the ground and Revan landed feet-first in a patch of snow. The cold didn't bother him, he couldn't feel it through his armor. I should take my time, anything to stall returning to find another job....

Despite his dislike of snow, Revan found the Jerall Mountains more appealing than Lord Dagon's realm. Casting a glance up the road, he spotted his targets' not-so-secure hideout: Bruma. So, an entire vampire clan, should be interesting.....

This post has been edited by Lord Revan: May 24 2007, 06:40 PM

[Lord Revan]

His marks were a vampire patriarch and matriarch who intended to use Bruma as a new feeding (and breeding) ground for a upstart clan. Revan would have to play a crusader on a 'mission of mercy'. However, he knew a way to get some help.
It would be a full moon tonight, and a migrating pack of werewolves would be passing by right about now.
Revan planned to use the monster's predudice to cause a conflict, then he'd come in and eliminate the stragglers. It was noon when he entered the city, Revan quickly spotted a begger sulking behind a building.

"A coin for an ol' begger?" the begger whimpered as soon as the armored figure.
"I'll pay you fifty if you spread a little rumor for me"

"FIFTY!" the begger exclaimed grinning, but then his expression turned unexpectedly shrewed. "What's the catch?"

"The 'catch' is that it spreads quickly and people believe it" Revan replied casually.
The begger stared at him warily for a few seconds, "All right let's hear it".
"Inform everyone you meet, that a dying Imperial forester told you that a pack of werewolf attacked him near here", Revan ordered. The begger looked doubtful, but accepted the gold saying he would do as instructed.

As the peasent retreated with the bag; Revan allowed a concealed smirk, if this worked the fledgling vampires would confront the werewolfs and he would have a much easier task and entertainment.

Many of his other jobs had been conducted in similar ways; even though he was perfectly capable of doing all this on his own, Revan had not been raised as a full-fladged warrior who bashed every breathing entity with a warhammer the size of his head.

Now Revan simply had to would wait until tonight, the moon would be full and the werewolfs would arrive and the vampires would rise to defened their property, niether knowing that to fight would only lead to death.

Revan sat on one of the walls that separated the city from the castle, and meditated. He had no regret for what he had become after his life had been destroyed; Revan had never felt love for another or vice versa.

Never had he met a woman whom he had felt any fondness, yet despite his clarity of purpose, Revan felt... hollow. He had no friends or companions; he stood alone without the luxuries, with demons, and without.....

This post has been edited by Lord Revan: May 24 2007, 06:58 PM