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.

----

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 continuing chapter 1

----

Chapter 1 (cont.): Back in the Game....

The closest rat jumped at Ian, snapping its teeth. Ian raised his sword to block it; the rat chomped down on the blade and held on stubbornly. Rodent number two bit onto Ian's leg; pain lanced through his leg. He pulled the rat off his sword with one hand and stabbed it and its friend. As blood wept from Ian's leg he downed a healing potion. Satisfied his leg would hold Ian limped into the new area, and spied a chest in the darkness to his right. It contained five more healing potions, some gold, and fifteen arrows (he took it all).
A beam of light illuminated some skeletal remains of a dead adventurerer. Ian grabbed the silver bow that the body held in death grip--mostly because bows were his favorite weapons, but mostly because of its arcane powers. A large sack of coins lay beside the corpse and,--it seemed luck came in threes-- two entire quivers of silver arrows. Armed with a small fortune and new weaponry, Ian marched through the door. A rat squeled and scurried down into the next area, while Ian took the time to investigate the contents of a nearby chest. He found some fragments of iron armor (he loathed heavy armor) and some more arrows, before something slammed a small rock into his head. Ian's head throbbed, but he turned to face his assailent-- and swore under his breath.
A zombie stood over him, holding the rock and lacking a left arm and head. Ian shackily stood and swung a mace he found on the floor at the bonewalker; inspite of his lack of skill he knocked the zombie off its feet. He nocked an arrow and fired at its chest, and was rewarded with a flaming zombie --he'd missed that the arrows were enchanted with various elements. Finally the zombie stopped thrashing on the floor, and he could catch his breath.
After several minutes of fighting through similar chambers, Ian caught sight of a goblin-- armed with a dagger-- sitting infront of a fire munching on a fried rat. It seemed relaxed and unaware of his approuch, and choked on the end of Ian's shortsword. The goblin fell headfirst into the campfire, dead; while Ian spotted a mortar and pestle, and a few ingrediants on a crate. He took the time to mix a few poisons, before continuing.
Suddenly Ian found himself in a large cavern with two goblins and their shaman, he hid amongst some stalagmites and sniped one goblin, then the shaman. He noticed a rope hanging from the ceiling, and pulled it. Suddenly he heard rats squeling and the third goblin holw in pain and outrage. [i]Oh, that's what that rope was for[i], Ian thought. The goblin killed the rodents, but fell to the floor --it would bleed to death from its wounds. As it lay there, Ian scavenged the chamber of valuables (and the shaman's staff).
Ian shielded his eyes as he opened a door and adusted to the light. He heard the voices of the Blades and the Emperer, he observed them fight off another wave of assassins. Ian jumped down to rejoin them, but was surprised to be met with the end of one of their swords. Uriel ordered them to stand down and asked for him to approach. "They don't know why you can be trusted, and niether do you," He added in a ammused tone. "Do you understand the nine? And what they stand for? I've served them all my life, and they've rewarded our loyalty in the past. What stars were visible the day you were born young one?" This caught Ian off guard. "I was born under...... the sign of the thief."

This post has been edited by Lord Revan: Oct 7 2006, 06:07 PM