The Nightblade Chronicles, A Journey Begins Options

[Malpense the Dark]

Well it would appear I've got enough posts under my belt to start posting my own stories in this forum. Yay for me! Anyhow you'll note that my character and this chronicles are called Nightblade- my character is not a Nightblade. He has some assassin skills, but he's more a Jack of all trades in magic, stealth and fighting. If anyone is curious, the narration takes place the just after the evens of Oblivion. The story itself takes place 3E 427.

Phew, that was long wasn't it? Without further longwinded backstory may I present- The Nightblade Chronicles- The Journey Begins

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Prologue

A fierce sea storm lashed Cyrodiil’s small stretch of coastline, the grey waves tearing at the shore like clawed hands. The port city of Anvil was at the heart of the storm, as the power of Kynareth was pitted against the city. The walls of the harbour disappeared into the sea for moments at a time, to reappear again briefly and to be devoured again by the ocean. The ships in the harbour pulled and bucked away from their oarings, with the occasional ship being ripped apart and pulled down into the sea.

Because of the storm the waterfront was devoid of residents, sailors, citizens and guards all having sought shelter in either The Flowing Bowl, or in the case of the lonelier sailor The Fo’e’s’le. The few guards stationed in the watch tower were unable to see the harbour, hidden as it was by the dark curtain of rain. As such not a soul saw the great black ship that slid into the harbour, seemingly ignoring the terrible weather.

The ship was tall and stern, its masts reaching high into the sky, its prow sharp as an arrow. It was a war galley to be sure but it had a sense of elegance and might that made it seem all the prouder than a common galley. For such a huge ship it approached the harbour gracefully, gently landing at the end of one of the many stone quays. The ship was quickly tied up by half a dozen sailors, Redguards in appearance and manner who made no sound as they roped the ship to the jetty. Following the sailors was the captain of the ship a lean man, also a Redguard, who had a long scar running along his left side. Following behind him was an unknown figure, rapped tightly in a long black cloak, the hood concealing the owner’s face.

“I appreciate your hospitality captain” The hooded figure said, in an obviously male voice. “Few would have tolerated my presence on such short notice.”

“The gold you promised for the trip changed my mind” The captain growled, glaring at the figure suspiciously as if worried he would not pay up. Quite to the contrary, the figure pulled a large sack of coins out from inside his cloak.

“I believe this will cover you services.” He said, tossing the pouch to the captain who pocketed it quickly. “Again my thanks for your help.”

“The pleasure was mine.” The captain said, grinning now that his gold was safely in his pocket. He had withdrawn a coin from inside the pouch, just to make sure it was indeed gold. It was. He couldn’t make that much from sailing between Cyrodiil and High Rock a dozen times over. He smiled again at the cloaked man. “Few of my passengers even know not to throw up into the wind, let alone how to help man a ship. You’ve done this before I take it?”

The man was quiet for a moment. “In another life.” He said finally, staring out over the frenzied ocean. He seemed to shake himself slightly and turned to the captain. “But I am afraid this is not the time for long stories, for I have kept you over long. May Zenithar guide you to prosperity and wealth.”
The figure bowed slightly to the captain turned to leave. The ships captain watched the man as he walked away, but finally he blinked and the figure was gone.

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As the rain was becoming increasingly unpleasant, the cloaked man was eager to find some accommodation. He glanced along the waterfront, considering The Fo’e’s’le but decided against it. The Flowing Bowl was also out of the question, as the man was looking for some peace and quiet, rather than being pestered by slobbering drunks. The only other option was to head into the city and find a nice quiet inn. The man shook himself like a dog and ran through into the city itself, his cloak pulled tightly around him.

The Flowing Bowl was typical of the many middle-class inns in Cyrodiil, though of course it was built in the style that was popular in Anvil. It was constructed out of the same small grey blocks of stone that were typical in Anvil structures, which went along splendidly with the thundering sky. It was a two story building, with an elaborate balcony supported by two carved stone pillars which framed the entrance to the inn. A small set of steps led up the inn’s main door which was green, a common colour for doors in Anvil, the cloaked man thought as he went through. The interior of the inn was like any other, several oak tables were scattered through the tap room along with the odd assortment of chairs. The man immediately deposited himself at a table in the furthest corner of the room, near the fire, and examined the clientele of the tavern. There were few customers in the place, which suited his purpose just fine. A couple of Elves sat in the corner, ignoring his presence completely as they continued their conversation. A man and a woman, locals by the look of them, were sitting closest to him and had only given him a curious glance when he’d entered but had soon gone back to their drinks. The only other people in the inn were the barman, who stood behind the bar washing a glass and the serving wench, a blonde beauty of a woman, probably about twenty or so. She was tall for a woman, her green dress matching her mischievous eyes and her hair falling down her back like a waterfall. She sidled up to the cloaked man, sitting down next to him and focusing him with a playful look.

“Hey there stranger” she said lightly. “You after anything in particular? Ale, mead, wine we’ve got it all. If you want we’ve got rooms for rent, or you can bunk at my place. The nights are pretty long around here, and they can get pretty lonely. It’s always good to have a little company.”

“I’ll take you up on the ale.” The man said humorously “I’ll have to decline on the rest of it.”

“Suit yourself.” She said, getting up to leave. She leaned over to the figure man and whispered to him “But you’re missing out on a great time.”
She sauntered away, her hips moving seductively from side to side. The man watched her go for a moment, before pulling a wooden pipe from his pocket and filling it with some tobacco from a pouch on his belt. He picked up a nearby candle and dipped it into the tobacco the flames immediately catching in the dry plant. He placed the candle back on the table, leaned back in his chair, took a deep mouthful of smoke and exhaled slowly. He sat quietly, smoking, thinking, his mind in another place and time. He probably would have dozed off (not advisable when one had a lit pipe) if not for the serving girl who returned with his mug of ale. He shook himself awake and accepted the mug. He stared at the girl as she sat down again, giving him a determined glance.

“Listen, love, I am not interested”

“I’m not after that” she said tartly, cutting across his words. “But I didn’t lie when I said the nights can get lonely around here. Can’t we just enjoy some conversation?”

The man said nothing and did not move. He continued to stare at her; at least she assumed that’s what he was doing.

She pouted at him “Please?”

The man sighed and flicked his hand dismissively. “Whatever pleases you.”

“Well first things first then.” She said smiling at him. “Lose the hood. I’d like to see who I’m drinking with.”
The man decided he might as well, considering he was going to need to take the hood off to enjoy his ale anyway. He grabbed hold of the back of the hood and pulled it down, revealing his face for the first time. It was difficult to tell what race he was; he seemed to be a mixture of Nord, Redguard and even had some Elven qualities in his appearance. He had shoulder length hair, as black as night which was arranged casually to keep out of his face. His nose and jaw were sharp and his cheeks hollowed. Rough stubble covered the lower half of his face, which made his appear older than he was but his eyes betrayed his youth; sparkling blue eyes that seemed like brilliant sapphires. Yet when one went deeper into his eyes one could see the bloody life he had led, the lives he had taken etched upon his soul.

The woman had looked at him briefly, a puzzled look on her face as old memories returned to her. She recoiled briefly, surprise at seeing this man; a man she had seen before.

“You” she said in shock “I know you. I’ve seen you before, years ago in the Imperial Arena. You were in the Arena, before the Grey Prince’s run. You’re-”

“Nightblade.” The man said quietly, sighing to himself. Apparently the fame he’d gained in his brief stint in the arena had not entirely faded away.

“But- but what happened to you?” She whispered, moving in closer to him. “You were the greatest fighter I’d ever seen. Everyone was saying you’d become Arena champion, and you’d only been there for a month. And then you just… disappeared. There were all kinds of stories; people said you’d been kidnapped or assassinated, there were even rumours that the arena administration had killed you off-”

“All of which are untrue” The man known to her as Nightblade said. “Although they all do add to my reputation.”

“But what really happened?” The woman asked earnestly. “What happened to you?”
Nightblade looked at her for a moment before asking: “What’s your name?”

“Sarah” the woman said quietly

“Well then Sarah, if you’ve got till morning I suppose I could tell you the story. If you keep my mug filled and my pipe lit I’ll take you on a tale of adventure and mystery…”

This post has been edited by Malpense the Dark: Jan 31 2007, 07:35 AM

[The Metal Mallet]

Ahhh! What's going to happen!? And no! You're gone for a few days, meaning you won't be around to update this. Dammit, I'm going to have to use my patience once agan. I don't like using it!

In other words, excellent couple of updates. Really gripping stuff here.