Children of the Void, The sequel to The Story of the Listener Options

[Kayla]

Alright. I just finished writing and refining this to my satisfaction. I hope you all will enjoy this. This story takes place right after the last one ended. However, for awhile, it might be a few days between updates. I'm still trying to get some school things straightened out and I'm quite busy, but once things settle down at school, I'm sure I'll have more time to write. Enjoy what I have so far!

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My boots crunched softly in the snow as I weaved through the trees in the forested Jerall Mountains north of Bruma. The moonless night was cold and shadowy; just the way I liked it. The Night Mother’s words echoed in my head as I pulled my black robe tighter over my lightly armored body to fend off the biting cold.

“I know the Speakers usually go out to meet our clients, but this one is special. I want you to handle it personally, dear Listener.”

For the past six months, the Dark Brotherhood had been busy. Not only had we added on to the sanctuary, we had received a fair amount of new members. Though I enjoyed them, none of the newer members really shone through as Speaker material. Coventia, the only Speaker we had at the moment, and probably my oldest friend that was still alive in the sanctuary agreed with me. Therefore, it wasn’t unusual for the both of us to be very busy meeting clients. There was no shortage of people who wanted others dead. To add on to the situation, politics in Tamriel had become very rocky. And when politics became competitive, we were usually quite busy. I had also heard whispers in the underground of plots to assassinate the emperor…

I caught a glimpse of light through the veil of tree branches ahead. I was to meet an old Breton woman who lived in a small cabin in the forest. As I got closer to the light, I could make out the shape of a small cabin in a distant clearing. Warm light was shining through the windows. I stepped out of the forest and into the clearing, the surveyed the small structure.

“This must be the place.” I mumbled to myself.

I pulled my hood up over my head to hide my face, then moved to the front door and knocked quietly. I waited a few seconds and received no response. I knocked again, this time, louder. Still, there was no answer. I couldn’t even hear any noises from within the cabin. Cursing under my breath, I grabbed the doorknob with a gloved hand and pushed the door open, stepping inside the warmth of the cabin.

The place was empty. The fireplace on the opposite wall was lit, as were some candles that adorned tables in the room. Suddenly, I sensed a presence behind me. Turning around, I drew my shortsword and was greeted by a blinding flash of blue light. I felt an impact in my chest that knocked me to the wooden floor, and a sharp pain that was both burning and freezing.

“You won’t kill me, you psychopath!” a panicked female voice screamed.

I quickly sat up, pulling my hood off to reveal my face. I saw an aging Breton woman with her back against a wall, frantically edging toward the door of the cabin. As our eyes met, I watched her expression soften.

“Oh my…” she breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re not a murderer.”
“Technically, I am.” I replied, standing. She walked forward quickly and cast a healing spell on me, which made the pain my chest subside. “I’m from the Dark Brotherhood. Did you just hit me with a frost spell?” I asked. In my opinion, frost spells were much worse than fire spells. They had a different sort of pain that you could only feel on the business end of a magickal burst of ice.

The woman’s blue eyes looked me over nervously. “I’m terribly sorry…” she said.
“It’s alright.” I murmured, stepping toward the fireplace to warm myself. “Who is it that you want dead?” I asked.

The woman hesitated. I looked over my shoulder at her, waiting for a response. She shifted nervously, ran her hands through her short, graying hair, and finally, she spoke in an anxious tone. “There’s a murderer out here. He’s killed all my neighbors… I think I’m next…”

I turned my head and watched as the flames in the fireplace danced.

“Why did the Night Mother want me to take care of this?” I thought to myself.

Keeping my gaze fixated on the fire, I spoke. “Lady, we’re the Dark Brotherhood, not the Fighters Guild. Nor are we mercenaries-“ Before I could say another word, there was a loud crash. Shards of glass scattered across the floor and a black figure practically flew into the cabin through the broken window.

The figure stopped a few feet away from me, standing up straight. It was much taller than I was. It spoke in a deep, gruff, and obviously male voice.

“You’re in the Dark Brotherhood?” he half stated, half asked.
“Yes.” I answered, staring at him.

The tall, shadowy man was unlike anything I’d ever seen. He looked like a Dunmer, except his skin was much darker, almost black, and his long, black straight hair went down past his broad shoulders. When our eyes met, I was absolutely mesmerized. His eyes were a deep red, very similar to the color of blood. The more I looked, the more I was convinced that any moment, he would begin crying tears of thick, sanguine blood. Looking past the color of his eyes, it was easy to see that he was a murderer. The eyes are the windows to the soul and his soul was as black as the void.

“The assassin and the murderer… this should be quite fun.” He said, stepping forward and brandishing an ebony shortsword.

As I drew my Elven shortsword, I found myself wondering how I had gotten into this situation in the first place. The old Breton woman dashed away from us as he charged at me.

He grunted with each swift swing of his sword. He was fast, but I was faster, dodging and parrying his blade, trying to get in a hit of my own. Though I had this man beat in a contest of speed, I was not about to challenge his strength.

After a few more minutes of dodging, and getting no hits of my own in, my back hit a wall. He smirked as he saw his opportunity. Quickly, he brought his sword down in a vertical slash. I managed to block it at the last second by holding up my sword. The ebony and Elven metal of the blades collided with a loud clash. He clenched his jaw as he used his strength to try and bring his sword down and break my defense. I was struggling just to keep his sword away from my body. I looked up at his face to see deep wrinkles and for a moment, I found myself wondering just how old he was.

In a sudden movement that surprised me, and pulled me from my thoughts, he drew a silver dagger from a sheath on his left leg. He brought the dagger up to stab me, but I thrust out my left hand and grabbed his arm. Now I was doing all I could to keep him from bringing two blades down on me.

Knowing I would surely die if my back stayed against the wall for too long, I used the last bit of my strength to push him away. Then, I grabbed his left hand and moved smoothly to the left, pulling his arm behind his back and simultaneously took his dagger from him. Wasting no time, I jabbed his own dagger into his neck. Oddly, he remained perfectly still, not even making a noise.

For a few moments, we stood there, frozen in absolute silence until I heard a dripping noise. I looked down to see a puddle of blood forming near my right foot… and a Daedric dagger lodged in my ribs.

“It’s over for you…” he said quietly.

I pulled the silver dagger out of his neck, scarlet blood flowing rapidly from the gash, and then I stepped back. Surprisingly, my wound wasn’t very painful. However, I knew that if the Daedric dagger were to be removed, it could be very serious. He turned to face me, laughing and clutching his wound, blood seeping through his fingers.

“What the hell is so funny?” I asked.
“That’s a bound dagger.” He replied.

For a moment I was quiet, then I looked up into his eyes.

“What is your name?” I asked him.
He seemed surprised by my question. “I am a monster. I have no name.” he replied.
“You are a man. You have a name. What is it?” I asked.

I felt the dagger in my ribs disappear. Warm blood was now flowing out of the wound at an alarming rate. For a moment, I thought I saw his eyes widen in a look of concern, but his gaze quickly intensified.

“My name is Verano, and you are going to die soon…” he said.
“How would you like to join the Dark Brotherhood, Verano?” I asked.
He grunted.
“You could prove to be quite useful.” I added.
“You’re going to bleed to death…” he said.
“So are you.” I said, meeting his gaze. I knew that the wound I’d inflicted on him was just as bad as the wound he’d inflicted on me.
We stood in silence for a moment.
“I’ll join…” he finally answered.
“Good.” I said, pulling two healing potions from my pocket. I began to drink one and tossed the other to him. My pain faded almost immediately.
I began to walk to the door. “Come, I’ll show you the sanctuary.” Apprehensively, he followed.

The Breton woman ran forward and grabbed my arm. “He’s a psychopathic killer! A monster! You’re going to let him join with you?!”
I looked at her. “Deep down inside, we’re all monsters.”
“You will receive no payment from me!” she shrieked.
“Whether or not you want to, you will pay my Lord. Sithis demands blood.” I said, slitting her throat before she even knew what was happening.

I looked into Verano’s blood red eyes. “My name is Sarelle. I am the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood. Welcome to our family.”

[Kayla]

Thanks for the replies, guys! I've had lots of time to write recently with the exception of yesterday. And I've got quite a bit of the story laid out.
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Verano and I walked back through the woods, heading south to the stable near Bruma where I had left Shadowmere.

“What were you doing out here?” I asked.
“Killing people.” He replied, smiling. I couldn’t help but laugh.

I understood his urge to kill. I remembered my early days as a murderer. The only thing that could quench a thirst for blood, was, in fact, blood. And just by looking at his face, and the way he fought, I could tell this man had been killing for a long time. He had known just how to kill me when we fought earlier. Many murderers that I had met simply knew how to kill. They could suffocate someone in their sleep, they could slip poison in someone’s food or drink, but if they were ever attacked by a seasoned fighter, they would most likely be killed. Verano knew how to fight and he knew how to kill. I found that admirable. I knew he would be useful to us.

We stepped out of the woods and onto a road. Our boots thumping on the frozen, packed dirt.

“Why do you kill?” I asked, in an attempt to get to know him better.
He looked up into the night sky. “I kill because I want to. It’s a rush. It’s satisfying.” He answered. I found myself agreeing with him.

We walked on in silence until the lights of the city of Bruma came into view. It was truly a spectacular sight. The torches carried by the Bruma watch could be seen, moving about the city as though they were floating and the large torches on either side of the castle were like beacons in the darkness.

“What a view…” he said, seemingly lost in thought.
I nodded. “It’s quite nice.”

We walked toward the city, staying on the road. I could see that we were nearing the stable when he surprised me by asking a question.

“How long have you been in Cyrodiil?”
“I was born in Morrowind. I don’t know why… but, I can’t remember much from my childhood. I can remember living in Vivec for awhile, and frequenting the Mages Guild, then coming over here to live in the Arcane University.” I said.
There was a moment of silence before he spoke again. “I was born in Morrowind as well. I came here when I was younger. Morrowind is a strange place…”

I walked through the gates of the stable, approaching Shadowmere, then climbing onto her back. I then helped Verano on.

“I became an adventurer.” He continued. “I’ve been everywhere in Tamriel. Even Solstheim. I like Cyrodiil a lot though. No one fears me here… I don’t feel alienated when I’m forced into a social situation. I felt that way in Morrowind.”
I found that odd. “Usually, they’re not that way to Dunmers in Morrowind…” I said.
“I’m not a Dunmer. As a matter of fact, I’m not entirely sure what I am. I have many attributes that can’t be classified to a single race… I started adventuring to find out who I really am in the first place. I’ve never really found out anything…” once again there was a moment of silence. “Well… I’ve heard of a race called the Dark Naryn. Though, throughout my travels, I’ve discovered nothing about them except whispers and wives’ tales…”

Shadowmere’s hooves pounded against the ground as she quickened her pace. I became aware of the subtle change in surroundings as we neared Cheydinhal. The evergreen trees transformed into lush hardwood trees. The snowy hills changed to damp green plains and lowlands filled with clear water.

“The Dark Brotherhood sanctuary is in Cheydinhal?” Verano asked as the city became visible.
I nodded, looking almost directly behind us to the east. I could see thin rays of light on the horizon. It would be morning soon.
He chuckled. “It’s such a peaceful little town…”

I directed Shadowmere into the stable, then Verano and I dismounted and I led him into the city. The guards at the city gate cast suspicious eyes at us, but didn’t say anything.

The town was very quiet as we walked toward the east wall. I led Verano to the abandoned house and pushed the front door open. We walked across the old, dark structure, reaching the basement door. I opened it and led him down the stairs and through an underground passageway and stopped at the stone door with a painting of the Night Mother, along with our symbol on it. I remembered the first time I tried to open this very door and smiled as I grabbed the doorknob. The moment my fingers touched it, a distant voice spoke.

“What is the color of night?”
Verano looked at me.
“Sanguine, my brother.” I answered.

The door swung open, and we stepped inside.

“Ah… home sweet home.” I said, smiling and looking at Verano.
He stepped forward, and looked around, seemingly amazed.
“Come, I’ll introduce you to our Speaker.” I said.

As I walked forward into the main hall, I noticed it was empty. Not even our skeletal guardian was patrolling the hallway. I stopped in my tracks and just as I was surveying the main hall, a strong arm wrapped around my neck, restricting my airway. Another arm grabbed my right arm, and pulled it behind my back, ensuring that I wouldn’t draw my sword or move too much for fear of a broken arm.

“Sarelle!” Verano yelled, drawing his sword.
“Hello, Listener.” A familiar voice whispered into my ear.
I smiled. “It’s alright, Verano.” I managed to choke out, while holding up my free hand.

In one swift motion, I knelt down as low as I could, grabbed my assailant’s leg, and pulled it out from under them, sending them crashing onto the stone floor. I heard a familiar Khajiit his and watched as it scrambled up.

“Ro’Vir Shadowfang… I didn’t know you were back. I said, smiling from ear to ear.

The Khajiit with the pitch black fur and glowing yellow eyes grinned a toothy grin. His tail shwished in front of his face as he revealed and retracted the silvery blade that had been implanted into the tip of his tail. That blade was one of the most dangerous weapons I’d ever known. Ro’Vir’s claws were also enchanted with elemental destruction magic. They were very painful and very deadly. I knew this from experience.

“I see you’re still alive, Sarelle. I look forward to the day I end your life.” he hissed.

Ro’Vir was completely serious. He’d been trying to kill me since he joined the Dark Brotherhood. He was a very good fighter, and a master of stealth and murder. This made him an exceptional assassin. For this very reason, Coventia always had him out on contracts. The risk of him killing someone in our sanctuary was too great, according to her. I'd always tried my best to convince Coventia that if Ro’Vir ever broke one of the Five Tenets, he wouldn’t do it again, if he survived the Dread Father’s wrath.

“You just keep trying to kill me, you adorable, fuzzy little kitty. You won’t succeed.” I said, reaching out and tickling under his chin. He growled, then disappeared into the shadows.

This post has been edited by Kayla: Aug 25 2006, 12:49 AM