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]

Chapter 5: Among Kin....

Ian lit a hackle-lo leaf and took a puff, he was standing outside of Cheydinhal. He watched the smoke curl in the air, and waited for Luchance to show up. Ian had already been through two rolls of leaves before Luchance arrived. "Ah, you've accomplished your end of the bargain. Now the Dark Brotherhood will embrace you as a fellow son of the Night Mother," Lucien said. "You will now join my group of family members. To find them, go into the city to the abandoned house. There is a door in the basement, a voice will ask you to answer a question. The answer is: Sanguine, my brother. Talk to Ocheeva, the mistress of the sanctuary."

The basement wasn't well lit, but Ian could see well enough. There was a red light at the other side of the room leading to a door. A raspy voice asked, "What is the color of night?" "Sanguine, my brother."
The door opened, and Ian walked into a gloomy small room. An argonian strode forth to greet him. "You must be Ian, the new family member that Lucien Luchance said would come. Welcome to your new home, a place of refuge and safety when the need arises. Well, I've kept you long enough, you doubtlessly wnt to meet the other family members here. But first, take these they are lighter than leather, and dark as the shadows." She handed him a bundle of reinforced cloth, and walked further down the hallway.
He decided to get some sleep before mingling with these assassins, hackle-lo helped keep you awake, but sleep was better.

After three hour of sleep, Ian groggily got out of his bed, grabbed his new armor, and opened the door to the dressing closet. The clothing was tight, but barely hindered movement, after wrestling the outfit on, Ian glanced at the mirror on the wall. The armor almost molded over the contour of his body, and had a menacing demeanor. He was surprised by how young he still looked, true was was only twenty, but with his past he felt older. His face was shaved, and his short jet black hair went well with his tanned complexion. However his eyes lacked the youthful energy of his body; their brown depths told of misery, hardship, and a grim determination.
Ian soon tired of his reflection, strode out of the dresser, and collided with a middle-aged bosmer woman. She looked him over. "Ah, your must be our newest family member," She said respectfully. "My name is Teleandril, faithful daughter of Sithis, and I see your a fellow archer." Ian liked her well enough.
"Yes, I'm Ian, I do like to use a bow in combat." "Splendid," She replied smiling. "Welcome to the family, and may Sithis be with you." Ian stepped aside for her to enter the dressing room. Well, maybe they're not all crazy homicides, Ian thought. This still won't be fun.......



This post has been edited by Lord Revan: Oct 23 2006, 03:45 AM