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]

Sorry, but this is a short one for now.

--------

After a couple hours at The Oak and Crosier, both Kirana and Ian decided to leave before the real drinkers arrived. He found himself watching her as she looked at the horizon, her grey hair blowing in the wind. Crap, this isn't very profesional.

Finally Kirana broke the silence. "Well, it's getting late. Maybe we could talk again tomorow." Ian nodded, favoring the darkening sky. "Right, we might as well get some sleep tonight." She gave him another smile and strode down the road to the Mages Guild.
As she left, Ian sighed and shook his head. If only I was normal and this all could be for real...... He dreadfully wanted to pursue this captivating woman, but he reluctantly pushed aside his bleeding heart. It's for the best, maybe in different circumstances, but not here, not now.

Kvatch, one day later.....

Ian leaned on a tree for support, he'd left Chorrol without getting a horse. That would have required talking to someone, or stealing it, neither of which are practical. But the wisest paths were rarely the easiest on mind and body.
Taking a couple of minutes to catch his breath, Ian took in his surroundings. Let's see, trees, bushes, nearby cavern, possibly abandoned........ and- The rest of the thought was lost when the agent heard something snarl nearby.

Cautiously he unslung his dwarven bow, and readied an arrow, searching for the source of the noise. Straining his ears for another disturbance, and was rewarded with the sudden appearance of a long, scaled snout right beside him.
Ian remain absolutly still, he hardly breathed, the thing beside him however made a huge ordeal of sniffing the he was hiding behind. With painful slowness, the Imperial turned his head to evaluate the creature.

The close inspection caused his heart to skip a beat. The creature's head was about two to three feet long, its eyes were like an Agonians, but twice as large. The yellow, slitted eye danced in its socket, studying the forest in front of it. Two-inch long fangs were visible, jutting out of the monster's mishapen maw.
Fighting back against any foolish action that would give him away to the hulking deadroth. Stay calm, stay calm. If you don't move then maybe it will let its guard down..... The faint hope was immediately destroyed when a smaller, frilled creature came from the bushes on the other side of the clearing.

The clanfear quickly spotted the agent, let out a terrifying shriek, and charged forward. But miraculously the deadroth raised its head and bellowed at the oncoming creature. Ian thanked whatever gods had seen fit to give him this chance, and he jumped onto the lowest treebranch.

Once he steadied himself, Ian leapt to the next branch, and heard the clanfear's frustrated cries. The deadroth had spotted the sudden movement, and it looked up at the bowman in the tree.
Alright, Sithis, Mephala, Azura, Akatosh, I don't carem but I couldn't be more happy with worshipping you then ever! Ian thought as he nocked his first arrow......