Corrupted heart. Options

[jack cloudy]

Alas, I couldn't wait for Agent to finish before I began my next story. Oh, curse me, all of you whose blood shall be spilled before this story comes to an end.

Ahem, I don't expect my loyal readers to complain though. Heh, I hope I managed to portray the first of my main characters nicely. And one last thing that might be interesting to know. This story takes place before the birth of Luper. So yes, that means at least 23 years before any of my other stories. Now, without further stalling I present:


Corrupted heart.

Chapter 1: Among the cold dirt, the fallen lie.

Consciousness flickered, remaining just out of reach. His senses delivered their messages to his clouded mind, broken fragments of a greater whole. The sound of heavy boots hammering cold rock, the smell of dust in his nose, the feeling of being carried in a boneshattering grip. A taste, plaguing the tip of his tongue. Blood, his blood.

The feeling of movement stopped. Words now echoed in his ears, words he did not comprehend.
,,This looks good enough. Open the door.” The shriek of rusted metal being moved ripped through the haze clouding his mind. Now consciousness returned fully and with it, a chance. For a moment, he continued to feign unconsciousness. Long enough to hear more words, words not meant for him.
,,You, don’t move unless you want even greater problems.” The hands holding him pushed him along. His tail brushed against iron bars. Now was the time.

With the frightening grace of a natural killer, his muscles sprang back to full readiness. He used the body of his captor to swing around, somersaulting into the air and landing on the unfortunate man’s back. With a quick swipe, claws ripped out the man’s throat and crushed his neck. Even before the man began to lose his signs of life, the killer had leapt away. The next guard found himself smashed against the iron bars of the cell. Claws leaving a trail of blood in the air where the last thing the man saw before his eyes were removed. He too died soon afterwards. The whole event had taken less than a second from start to finish.

Breathing heavily from both his exertion and the rough treatment he’d received earlier, the killer stared down at his latest victims. In a slow symbolic movement, he raised his claws and licked them clean of blood, savouring the taste. His ears began to pick up the sound of distant boots coming steadily closer. A standard patrol. His hand snatched the nearby torch from the wall and he slammed the piece of wood into a dusty pool of water. There was a large cloud of smoke and then, darkness.

Even though there was practically no light left, his eyes still saw as good as if he was standing outside on a clear day. He quickly scanned the nearby cells. The one which had been destined for him was already occupied by the short stature of a Bosmer. The one directly on the opposite side of the tunnel was occupied by a muscular Dunmer who looked around warily, not seeing a thing. The killer took a double take on the two beings. While the Dunmer displayed all the expected signs of fear, the Bosmer surprisingly acted as if she hadn’t noticed the massacre at all. She just looked at the ground in front of her bare feet with a blank stare.
,,Must have lost its mind so deep underground.” The Killer concluded. He knew from experience that many Bosmer were extremely claustrophobic and hated being in a room without any windows or underground. A natural result from living in the treetops of Valenwood.

The boots had now gotten close. Soon, the owner of these boots would see the darkness ahead and know that something was wrong. By then though, it would be too late. The Killer crouched at the edge of the darkness, confident in the natural camouflage he had. Now the guard ventured into view and the killer’s heart skipped a beat. This was no guard. The fingers of fear reached out for him, embracing him with their cold touch. It was a feeling he hadn’t felt since childhood. The darkness in the tunnel was vanquished by a bright burst of light. With that same burst, the light in his eyes faded and he slipped into unconsciousness once more.

An armoured boot stomped on the ground beside his head.
,,You’ve missed your chance. Enjoy the blood you’ve claimed. They were your last kill.” A gruff voice said as the killer was picked up and taken to his cell.

[jack cloudy]

It's obvious, isn't it? When you pay money for some old guy, expect TROUBLE in capital letters.

Assassiny writers sub-guild? Sounds nice, though I don't know if we can call Ra'trith an assassin. His killings so far have been much too open. No sneaking around.

And now, we continue with the others.






Several minutes later, the Khajiit was sitting on the lower branches of a tree, hidden from view by the many leaves. A coach came along. Ra’trith took in the vehicle and made his decision quickly. When it passed underneath him, he dropped down and landed on the roof without making a sound or causing a vibration. He slid down to the back where he was perfectly hidden from both the Imperial in controlling the horses and its passengers. He sat on top of a large suitcase, his legs dangling in the air. He absentmindedly scratched his wounded shoulder.
,,Damn poison. It itches. I hate that vampire. Hmph, I’ll break free from him someday. No one lives forever, not even those who have sacrificed their soul for an illusion of immortality.”


A Breton moved around the tables with a plate held above high above his head. He arrived at his destination, lowered the plate and put two large jugs of Mazte on the dirty table. He then left as swiftly as he’d arrived. A grey hand reached out and opened the two jugs. Another hand, a green one, was dropping coins in a leather pouch.
,,980…990…1000, it’s all there.” The Orc said with his rumbling voice and slid the now filled pouch across the table. Aran picked it up and deposited the fortune in his pocket where it would be quite safe.
,,I do have a question for you.” The Dunmer stated before taking a swig of the Mazte.
,,That’s fine but I have a question for you as well.”

Aran shrugged.
,,You can ask anything you want. Now for my question, why did you make me promise not to kill my sponsor? It’s not like you to worry about such things. In fact, I must have caused quite some publicity with that act. Don’t you always grab every chance at publicity you can get?” He asked. Ghorak laughed, managing to make more noise than everyone else in the tavern combined.
,,I know, I love publicity. Publicity is good for business. But what good is publicity for me if I’m death? It took us hours to find and clean up every little bit of the guy’s head. I sponsored you this time. Forgive an old man his self-protecting behaviour, please.” He explained once he’d finally stopped laughing.
,,Now as for my question, why do you need the money so much?”

Aran casually leaned back in his chair.
,,It’s not for me. It’s for Erinus Codius. With the new law that forces the healers to lower their price, she can no longer sustain herself.” He told the Orc. Ghorak slammed on the table with a fist, causing a large wave of his Mazte to fly up into the air and splatter down on the table again, making it even messier than it already was.
,,That woman?! Why didn’t you just say so instead of going out and teaching that fool who’s boss? Do you have any idea how many corpses we would have if she wasn’t there to fix up the survivors? I know about that law but I’d completely forgotten about it. Curse the Emperor and his name!” He raged. The Dunmer looked around the tavern calmly. While he did see a number of angry faces, none of those faces had violence in their eyes. Still, violence could occur if his friend continued to slander the Emperor.
,,You might want to tone it down a bit, Ghorak. Getting killed in a bar brawl is bad for business as well.” He warned.

The Orc calmed down though he did utter a few more threats under his breath.
,,Keep the money and don’t give it to her. Let me deal with it. Since the Emperor has forbidden us to pay her a fair price, I just thought of something different. What if we give her a weekly bonus for ‘outstanding service quality’? I bet that we could slip the money she deserves past that bloody law with this.” He whispered, grinning savagely. Aran grinned as well.
,,They may say that all Orcs are barbarians with less intelligence than a rock. You, my friend, have a common sense and wit an Altmer would be jealous of. A bonus for outstanding service quality, that definitely sounds like something she deserves.”


Erinus closed the door quietly.
,,We might meet again someday. Till then, may the Divines watch over you.” Marsh-Speaker spoke to the closed door and moved out on the street, soon vanishing within the mass.

With her visitor gone, the healer had all the time she needed to take care of her patient. She hadn’t been able to do much about the wound yet. Now though, she would be able to mend most of the flesh with the potions she’d freshly bought during her conversation with the Argonian. She began to remove the bandage she’d applied and inspected the wound closely to see if there had been any unexpected changes.

,,It hurts.” A voice whispered. When Erinus looked up, she found the Bosmer’s eyes staring at her.
,,Well, of course it hurts. Any further, and there would be no way to save your leg. You’re quite lucky the wound wasn’t infected. Not only was it dirty, but your resistance to disease has been seriously undermined with your starvation. At least you’re awake now, that’s a good sign.” Erinus said calmly.
,,Raw rat meat isn’t exactly a delicacy. There aren’t many edible bits on a rat either.” Rajn smiled weakly.

The woman ignored any further comments as she focussed on her task. She carefully administered the potion’s contents directly to the wound, making sure not to overdo the dosage. If drank as was usually the case, the potion would have never been strong enough to deal with a wound only half as bad since the liquid spread evenly and wasted itself on fixing inconsequential damage all over the body. If applied directly to the wound though, its effects were effectively concentrated where it mattered most. If too much was applied at one place though, the flesh would drown and the medicine would do more damage than it healed.

Before her eyes, the torn flesh reassembled and flowed back into its proper shape. It was a painful process, as evident by a few gasps and the tears that shone in the Bosmer’s eyes. When the miraculous healing was done, most of the wound had vanished as if it never existed, replaced by new flesh that had not yet taken on the signs of regular usage.
,,I don’t fix the skin normally as it is quite a bit more complex than it might seem. You’ll keep a few scars I’m afraid. Those can be removed at a later date by any healer though.” Erinus explained as she put the now empty vial on the table. It could always be filled with a different substance later.

,,Nah, that’s ok. I think I’ll keep them. As a reminder not to mess with really big dogs. Say, where’s the Dunm….” Rajn began but fell silent when her leg started twitching uncontrollably. Erinus smiled reassuringly.
,,Don’t worry about the twitching. There’s some new muscle tissue in there. It hasn’t yet learned how to respond properly. For the first few days, expect some odd movements like those while it learns how to function. Try to bend and stretch your leg as often as you can to help speed up the learning process.” She said, then got up and lit up the fire of the oven.
,,You’re probably hungry so I’ll make you something to eat.” She said over her shoulder.

To her surprise, the Bosmer was now staring at her still twitching leg with something that resembled sadness.
,,She should be happy to be still alive. I wonder what’s wrong?” The healer thought.
,,How do I pay? I don’t have any money. Neither does the other guy.” Rajn muttered, more to herself than to the Imperial.
,,So that’s it.”
,,Don’t worry about it. Aran is a good friend of mine and I’m happy to help out. His friend is my friend.”