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 guys, here's a short post for you all.....

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Chapter 4 (cont.)

Ian opened his eyes and peered critically around the cabin. There was a tall robed man standing in front of the door, Ian didn't need to guess what the intruder was. The man said, "Greetings, murderer. You've just begun a new chapter in your life's dark journey, my name is Lucien Lachance" Ian got up and acted cordial. "Good to meet you, Mr. Luchance." He smirked, "Ah, you are obviously experienced in minipulating people by word. Now, formalities aside, the Dark Brotherhood extends an invitation to join our exclusive family." "What must I do?" "Listen closely," He replied. "On the Gold Road, south of here, there lies the Inn of Ill Omen. Wasting away his remaining days there, is an old man called Rufio. He must die for you to gain acceptence among the Night Mother's children. Now take this dagger and gold, as gifts from your new family. I bid you farewell, my Imperial brother." With that luchance dissappeared, no doubt due to some powerful spell or item. Welcome to your new family. Ian rolled his eyes, he never had a family....... except for Sarquin, Valkarez, and Raphiel....... and he didn't want another one.

Ian walked all the way to pells gate, before taking a small break. Luchance had given him five hundred septims, a sizable fee, but a small bone compared to his inheritence. He didn't know how much his own liniage had left for him, but it was a great deal. Ian had graduated six years ago, when he was fifteen...... but none of his friends had.
They had all died in the ambush. It hadn't been deliberate attack. Ian lit a small hackle-lo and looked up at the blue sky. It turned out that the group had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time...... there had been a turf wars between the lizards and cats, with the agents in the crossfire. Some managed to escape into the woods, and wait the battle out. The only reason that Ian had survived was because of that darn poisoned arrow. He slept for the entire fight, and nobody bothered to check if he was really dead. It hadn't been skill our deviousness that saved his skin, no a stupid arrow knocked him out. The others just got massacred. After the fighting ended some of the survivors found him as he was consious......... Ian, thirty appretices, and one sensei, that was it. The others had fought their way out, but he had just fallen asleep and ignored.......
He arrived at the Inn at dusk, and stepped inside....... There was a Nord for a bartender talking to a female Redguard, both were disgustingly drunk. Ian rolled his eyes, and slid silently through a trap door. There were two rooms, the farthest one had an "ocuppied" sign on it. Ian slowly opened the door, an old man was laying on the bed. Ian simply nocked his arrow and let it fly. He slowly walked away from the Inn of Ill Omen, and hoped, hoped, that the dark Brotherhood would be of some help for finding the rogue agent.......

This post has been edited by Lord Revan: Oct 12 2006, 09:49 PM