Shadow In The Evening, Just a trifle I belted out. Options

[Scrooluse]

Shadow in the Evening

As the chill evening wore on, as the rising moon cast its haunting glow across the landscape his senses were heightened. Padding almost soundlessly against the soft ground he moved with a determination and grace, he had traveled far in his journey to make his appointment. Moving as a silhouette traveling along the countryside with only the moon as a guiding companion. Gracefully traversing the terrain with a speed that bordered frightening. As he neared his destination the land gave way to the water, utilizing his acrobatic skill which he had honed to perfection during his tenure with the Thieves guild he leap agilely from rocky outcropping to rocky outcropping, naught more than just another phantom of a passing shadow.

Partway through the long journey he felt the welcome patters of rain begin to blanket the landscape. They would serve to help mask any sound as well as assist in concealing him further. Smiling to himself he gave a final great leap from a now slippery ledge and came to halt on a small hillside overlooking a lone yurt. He had made his contact at long last. Assessing the situation he called upon every ounce of his skill as an accomplished thief he could muster. A short dash over the small body of water that separated his current vantage point to where his appointment resides, as he moved the water barely rippled, but it was just enough to catch the passing attention of one of the two sentries. Thankful for the outfit he had “liberated” from a Dark Brotherhood operative to keep him concealed against the darkness he began circling around to the rear. Taking a deep breath, he recites his vows and pledges in his mind. Setting himself to the task of ensuring his duty would not merit inordinate amounts of time. Slowly he made his way forward to behind the yurt, still cloaked from the campfire that managed to endure the continuing moderate rainfall. Reaching to his hip he produces a glass dagger, taking a moment to reflect upon the history he and it shared he felt a deep reverence and comfort for the weapon, from its ignoble beginnings as a severely damaged trinket sold for a pittance from the pawnbroker in Suran. Producing another couple of small severe looking weapons and stashing them away in the cloth bindings upon his wrist he inhales deeply. Firmly gripping the glass dagger in his right hand he exploded forth from the shadows.

Overtaking the first sentry from behind, his left hand pressed over the terrified mouth of his first victim, with a well-practiced motion the translucent green blade gleamed in the firelight for only a moment before the tip was placed to the side of the throat and made its cruel entry. As the blade pierced deeply in and began to cut across, letting a large gout of vital lifeblood from the wound, the second sentry broke from his seemingly stunned reverie. Removing his hand from the dagger halfway through the process it instinctively flew to his wrist to withdraw the two hidden weapons. Before the sentry could begin to sound the alarm or begin a counterattack, the deadly tools found their home, the first striking the sentry in the left side of the neck, missing the vital jugular just barely, however the second lodged itself just perhaps half an inch above the right brow. Watching the sentry stumble backward before falling with a wetly muddy sound he turned his attention to the limp one in his arms. With a small jerk he finished pulling the dagger completely through the throat before pushing him forward upon the sopping ground. Bowing his head quietly he whispered a small prayer for the slain, then turned his attention to the yurt.

Unsure if the small skirmish outside would have raised enough noise to alert the inhabitant, he watched as the falling drops of rain freed his glass dagger of the clinging blood, making it beautiful and pure in his eyes again. Steeling himself for the final portion of his task he cautiously steps inside the yurt, almost immediately his target, an Ashlander by the name of Odaishah Yasalmibaal sprang forward, a weapon held aloft and a scream of both fear and defiance. Swiftly the killer sidestepped the Ashlander whom went stumbling forward, but before Odaishah could recoup, his body went stiff and began to spasm as the blade of his assailant slipped into his flesh, between the third and fourth ribs to the beating center of life. Struggling to keep the few remaining lucid moments of his life, the Ashlander slowly slipped into the embrace of death… breathing slowed, eyes slid shut, and thoughts drifted away carelessly. At long last life was finally wrested free from the mortal vessel.

With the grim task finished he laid the slain target onto a bedroll. Removing the brotherhood glove from his right hand he pressed his palm into the puddle of fresh blood and unfurled the Morag Tong writ. Leaving his macabre mark upon it he takes a moment to wipe his hand and his blade upon a scrap of cloth. Rolling the writ up and tucking it away safely he exhales softly and steps outside into the night, the rain slowly tapering off and a few clouds beginning to part. Reaching up he pulls the oddly lensed hood from his countenance, revealing a handsome if not morose countenance of a Dunmer. Casting his gaze skyward he takes a silent comfort at seeing the celestial pattern of his birthsign shining brightly from a gap in the dark clouds.

Hunkering down in the darkness he quietly contemplates his past, holding no regrets for his dubious deeds he simply ponders on what it would have been like if life were different, to be known as a defender of the people rather than a dark essence lurking on the fringes of society. Still, he was thankful for all that the Thieves guild imparted to him, instilling into him a sense of purpose and belonging. Clumsy and awkward in his initial training in those days he found himself swiftly excelling in his set duties, so much so that he was approached by a member of the Morag Tong, informing him that his abilities have attracted a lot of attention within the ranks. Even though he was of the rank of Blind Thrall within the guild, it was widely whispered that he should make Exalted Master or even Grandmaster soon, his skills have served him well. Chuckling quietly he spoke to himself, his tone a cold and hardened one, icy and determined… a tone that somewhere along the line had lost its warmth and tenderness “Another fell deed done, another profit to my coffers. But I wonder, is it all worth it?” and just as soon as he queried, he dismissed it and reached into the Dark Brotherhood shirt to produce the amulet of recall he had purchased ages ago from the Bosmer in the Balmora Mages Guild, the one whom he had long harbored a secret yearning for, the one he would willingly throw everything away for. Activating it he leaves the scene of gore and death behind him, leaving as silently and undetectably as he arrived. He was known by many names, but the one he seemed to favor above all else was Roltan. But to himself, he was merely a Shadow in the Evening.


Writer's Notes
This is just a wee something I threw out after a couple hours playing my Dunmer Doomguard (custom class) and his first prelim quests in the Morag Tong. If it is recieved well I'll continue on with more quests and quite possibly guilds.

[Ryden294]

Extremely well written and very descriptive. I like the words and descriptions you used, very well done. I also like the character, an assassin who does somewhat care for the life of another human. Great start, I'll look forward to reading more.

EDIT: I agree with minque. You do deserve it so S.G.M.

This post has been edited by Ryden294: Oct 5 2005, 10:43 PM

[Fuzzy Knight]

I like this alot... The description is great, and use of words too. It's very easy to understand to.

Have to agree with Ryden, I also like that its a character who is an assassin. I really hope you can continue this story, with more quests and guilds. Because in my eyes its very very good skills you have here. I'm reallly waiting for some dialog now

[minque]

Very good Scrool! You´re using a poetic language that appeals a lot to me..jeez you even made the murder sound beautiful!


More please?!

Oh and I´ll present you with that classic treydog-ish proverb:

S.G.M

[mplantinga]

Excellent. Your exceptional descriptions almost make me feel like I'm right there with him. I would love to see more of this story.

[Alexander]

Very well written here Scrool. Excellent work really. I do hope you write some more. I'd love to learn more about this person and to see anything else by your hand