Ian, I was thinking of something new..... Options

[Lord Revan]

Well, for anyone who's read Revan don't worry I'm not abandoning it. I just decided to do a story on my actuel oblivion character. So I'm hoping you guys like it.

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Prologue: Vice and Graft

It was "happy hour" in the Flowing Bowl of Anvil. Most of the patrons were sailers on leave, "leave" in drunk sailer meant: take a break and get broke by drinking 'til you pass out. Beanlorn glanced around the crowds, and saw a familiar shape stride through the door.
Beanlorn knew the man and had even expected him. Ian did favors for certain people, and those people often did transactions in the Flowing Bowl. It steered some paying customers Beanlorn's way, so he kept quiet about the shady work going on in his establishment.

Ian spotted Beanlorn at the bar, and approached him. He casually dropped a pouch of coins on the counter, which Bealorn peeked into (he never was very subtle) to check that those were septims not some trash before he gestured to the rooms. As Ian stood in front of the 'wall' a board slid aside to let two eyes appear and make sure it wasn't some drunk Nord or something. The board closed again, and then a crawlspace revealed itself. The small meeting room, which was was illuminated by four blue lanterns in each corner, was occupied by his Argonian client and his two handmaidens.

Ian distained such flaunty displays of wealth and power (although he himself was a wealthy Imperial), but this was an Argonian, after all most were poor or only slightly rich. The client -Hurmun- squinted at him, with his lizard eyes. "Have you recovered to artifact? Or are you just wanting a chance to annoy me?" touchy little lizard, he thought. Reaching into his satchel, Ian removed a spherical humming rock. Yeah I got the sigil stone for you, Hurmun. Now do you have my fee? Or are you trying to waste my time?" Hurmun stared at the deadric artifact in his hands, then nodded at Ian. One of the Argonian maids brought a huge bag of gold, and handed it over.
"Now, Ian, I have a little matter that you can help me with before we depart." Ian furrowed his brow and frowned, "What would that be, lounge lizard?" Hurmun gritted his teeth (he did that when he was losing his patience) "A few of the bar patrons here don't want me to leave the inn.... alive anyway. I want you to.... dispose of these drunks." "Fine, but this had better be worth it." Then as an afterthought, he said "If you got gutted, it would be no skin off my bone -I have other clients"

Ian made his way down the stairs, there were four target he would have to kill: two Nords, an Imperial, and a Redguard. They were all leering at him, as he strode out the door. There weren't many bystanders on the docks, but the four brigands followed him out. He spun on his heel and unsheathed his elven shortsword, which was met by three cutlasses. The drunks were bigger and stronger, but they weren't thinking straight, and were clumsy. The commotion caused all the other patrons to come and watch in earnest. Ian held his sword loosely before him; the two nords tripped when they met less resistence than expected, and were caught between the hammer and anvil. Suddenly shouting came from the city gates and five guards charged toward them. The Redguard and Imperial, in a drunken frenzy, charged screaming at the watchmen, but were stabbed by the Anvil guard. Not eager to make a similar mistake, Ian sheathed his blade and set it on the ground along with his bow and arrows. "You have been found illegally brawling in the city limits, but you surrendered without conflict; that will be recognized by the judge, come with us...."

[Lord Revan]

Ok, well here's another update on Ian

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Chapter 1: Things Get Interesting....

The sentence wasn't so bad, the guard had been true to his word and the judge had been leinient on the case. Also several of the commoners testified that the four attackers had been drunk during the brawl. In this light he'd only been sentenced to a month in prison for killing the two men. Ian was still relieved that he only had a week left before he was free, he was worried about getting rusty at his most importent skills. The wall was hardly a something to talk to (the only other alternative was the dunmer in the cell across from his and he wasn't worth the effort), and he didn't have any picks to at least study the lock to his cell. But the labor had given him time to work up his strength, and the guard ignored the fact he carried a rock with him. It wasn't a bow and arrows, but he was habitually tossed it in his hand and throwing it at the skull in his cell, just for target practice.
Suddenly Dreth -the Dark Elf- started yelling at him again. "You must be quite the snobby noble to be getting out of here so soon. What did you do again? I just can't recall what it was." "I got a month for killing a couple of illiterites not worth a turd, like you Dreth," Ian replied. "besides what was your charge, huh? What got you in here for five years?" Ian was fully willing to play Dreth's game, just to show that he was better at getting someone angry. "You Imperial <profanity regarding birth from a female dog>, if it weren't for these iro bars I'd make sure you died in here, in a pool of your own blood! .....Wait what's that, oh they must be here for you; you've been very naughty haven't you ha ha ha ha!" Valen Dreth retreated to the depths of his cell, as several voices floated down from above.

"My lord we've almost made it, only a few more tunnels and the sewers and you'll be safe."
"But my sons, what about my sons? They're still dead."
"Sire we don't actually know if their dead." "No, I felt them as they were killed." The voices belonged to three heavily armored guards and a well dressed elderly man; they made their way toward his cell. "A prisoner? In this cell? That's strictly forbidden; how did this happen?" A female guard exclaimed. "It must have been the watch, their always slacking when it comes to the prison. nevermind, we have to keep moving. Prisoner stand away from the door and let's keep this civil." Not eager to get in a fight with well armed - probably well trained knight- Ian moved to the far wall. The lead guard opened the door and strode in followed by the robed man and female. The man glanced at Ian, did a surprised double-take, and strode forward.
"You," He said, in an off-guard way, "I saw you, in my dreams."
Ian was perplexed, who was this man, and what was going on? The old man identified himself as Emperer Uriel Septim, and explained that these knights were his guardsmen; also that Ian held the fate of Tamriel in his hands. "I'm sorry -my lord- but I'm an agent; I don't prancing about with the power to save or destroy the only beacon of civilization that stands to date. I go my own way, and only care about myself." The Blades reached for their katanas, but the emperor held up his hand to stop them. "You don't care for the fates of others?" He asked Ian. "No I just care about what affects my and me alone, and posterity if it comes to that." "We all forge our own separete destinies, but none can resist a fate inscribed by the Nine thamselves." Uriel chided him. One of the guards urged the others to keep going, and opened a door hidden beside the bedmat for Ian's cell. The royal entourage strode through the new door way, leaving a dumbstruck Imperial agent. Ian was confused and a little angry, there had been an exit right under his nose and he had overlooked it.

He followed a silently as he could (his footwork had remained a peak condition thanks to his dedication to the skill in his spare time. As he descended a staricase he suddenly heard the sounds of battle. Ian looked around the bend and saw one of the Blades go down as an assassin sliced her down her back, when the fighting subsided he saw that two Blades were still on their feet. They exited the room through a doorway on the other end of the corridor. He took the time policing the fallen's possesions, the assassins only wore robes and carried a few coins each, but the female knight only possessed a steel shortsword and her katana. Ian took the shortsword and loosed a few practice swings, and nodded satisfied that the weapon would do for awhile. He picked up the katana as an afterthought; it could be worth the extra deadwieght. he finally glanced at the doorway, but shook his head. It wasn't the best way, he thought. Then he spotted a weakness in the stonework, and could make out a room that it connected to. Ian slowly made his way toward it, when he heard a rat squeal and the stones collapsed as two giant rats knocked it down......

This post has been edited by Lord Revan: Oct 7 2006, 06:03 PM