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...."

[The Metal Mallet]

Multitasking eh Revan? I wish I could do that but I just simply don't have the time. The only thing I've done outside of Bloodlust was a one shotter on the "One Shot Short Stories" Thread, just to do something in a different vein of writing. But it's nice to see something a bit different from Revan story, just to see the differences and such.

It looks promising so far. I'm going to guess his punishment will be imprisonment...

[Lord Revan]

he he, you would be right on imprisonment MM, but I won't mimic Oblivion word for word/scene for scene of course. That would be boring. But like I said Ian is my acual Oblivion character, and if I could find how to make Xbox-360 screenshots I would post them.

But here's some basic info:

race: Imperial
gender: male
age: roughly twenty one
proffesion: agent
skills: standard agent along with certain foreign skills (ex: blade and light armor)

[Lord Revan]

Ok, well here's another update on Ian

----

Chapter 1: Things Get Interesting....

The sentence wasn't so bad, the guard had been true to his word and the judge had been leinient on the case. Also several of the commoners testified that the four attackers had been drunk during the brawl. In this light he'd only been sentenced to a month in prison for killing the two men. Ian was still relieved that he only had a week left before he was free, he was worried about getting rusty at his most importent skills. The wall was hardly a something to talk to (the only other alternative was the dunmer in the cell across from his and he wasn't worth the effort), and he didn't have any picks to at least study the lock to his cell. But the labor had given him time to work up his strength, and the guard ignored the fact he carried a rock with him. It wasn't a bow and arrows, but he was habitually tossed it in his hand and throwing it at the skull in his cell, just for target practice.
Suddenly Dreth -the Dark Elf- started yelling at him again. "You must be quite the snobby noble to be getting out of here so soon. What did you do again? I just can't recall what it was." "I got a month for killing a couple of illiterites not worth a turd, like you Dreth," Ian replied. "besides what was your charge, huh? What got you in here for five years?" Ian was fully willing to play Dreth's game, just to show that he was better at getting someone angry. "You Imperial <profanity regarding birth from a female dog>, if it weren't for these iro bars I'd make sure you died in here, in a pool of your own blood! .....Wait what's that, oh they must be here for you; you've been very naughty haven't you ha ha ha ha!" Valen Dreth retreated to the depths of his cell, as several voices floated down from above.

"My lord we've almost made it, only a few more tunnels and the sewers and you'll be safe."
"But my sons, what about my sons? They're still dead."
"Sire we don't actually know if their dead." "No, I felt them as they were killed." The voices belonged to three heavily armored guards and a well dressed elderly man; they made their way toward his cell. "A prisoner? In this cell? That's strictly forbidden; how did this happen?" A female guard exclaimed. "It must have been the watch, their always slacking when it comes to the prison. nevermind, we have to keep moving. Prisoner stand away from the door and let's keep this civil." Not eager to get in a fight with well armed - probably well trained knight- Ian moved to the far wall. The lead guard opened the door and strode in followed by the robed man and female. The man glanced at Ian, did a surprised double-take, and strode forward.
"You," He said, in an off-guard way, "I saw you, in my dreams."
Ian was perplexed, who was this man, and what was going on? The old man identified himself as Emperer Uriel Septim, and explained that these knights were his guardsmen; also that Ian held the fate of Tamriel in his hands. "I'm sorry -my lord- but I'm an agent; I don't prancing about with the power to save or destroy the only beacon of civilization that stands to date. I go my own way, and only care about myself." The Blades reached for their katanas, but the emperor held up his hand to stop them. "You don't care for the fates of others?" He asked Ian. "No I just care about what affects my and me alone, and posterity if it comes to that." "We all forge our own separete destinies, but none can resist a fate inscribed by the Nine thamselves." Uriel chided him. One of the guards urged the others to keep going, and opened a door hidden beside the bedmat for Ian's cell. The royal entourage strode through the new door way, leaving a dumbstruck Imperial agent. Ian was confused and a little angry, there had been an exit right under his nose and he had overlooked it.

He followed a silently as he could (his footwork had remained a peak condition thanks to his dedication to the skill in his spare time. As he descended a staricase he suddenly heard the sounds of battle. Ian looked around the bend and saw one of the Blades go down as an assassin sliced her down her back, when the fighting subsided he saw that two Blades were still on their feet. They exited the room through a doorway on the other end of the corridor. He took the time policing the fallen's possesions, the assassins only wore robes and carried a few coins each, but the female knight only possessed a steel shortsword and her katana. Ian took the shortsword and loosed a few practice swings, and nodded satisfied that the weapon would do for awhile. He picked up the katana as an afterthought; it could be worth the extra deadwieght. he finally glanced at the doorway, but shook his head. It wasn't the best way, he thought. Then he spotted a weakness in the stonework, and could make out a room that it connected to. Ian slowly made his way toward it, when he heard a rat squeal and the stones collapsed as two giant rats knocked it down......

This post has been edited by Lord Revan: Oct 7 2006, 06:03 PM

[The Metal Mallet]

Ah! Rats! Those rats scared the bejesus out of me the first time I played. I didn't equip the sword yet so I had to beat them to death. Fun times...

So far, so good Revan. Though I have one question. How did Ian get a sigil stone in the prologue when the gates haven't opened yet? Uriel is still alive and possesses the Amulet...

[Lord Revan]

Well I have a song I'd like to sing about that........ just kidding MM. That sigil stone is supposed to be from the time when Oblivion and Tamriel were together. Or it could have been recovered when one of the past emperers was late to the coronation and someone stole the stone from Oblivion.

Oh by the way do you know how to get screenshots from the Xbox 360???

This post has been edited by Lord Revan: Sep 14 2006, 02:45 AM

[The Metal Mallet]

No idea, I use the PC version. I don't really think you could take a picture of your TV with a digital camera, then upload it to your computer. From my attempts to do that, taking pictures of images on TV don't come out well. But if it's still like a screenshot... I might now showup as a blur. The times I've tried have been moving images.

[Kayla]

Yay for multitasking! Turning out to be a great story! Keep it up!

[Lord Revan]

Well I'll try the digital camera thing MM.

Thanks Kayla, I've been keeping up with your thread, I just haven't posted yet. You've done well so far.

[Lord Revan]

Ok continuing chapter 1

----

Chapter 1 (cont.): Back in the Game....

The closest rat jumped at Ian, snapping its teeth. Ian raised his sword to block it; the rat chomped down on the blade and held on stubbornly. Rodent number two bit onto Ian's leg; pain lanced through his leg. He pulled the rat off his sword with one hand and stabbed it and its friend. As blood wept from Ian's leg he downed a healing potion. Satisfied his leg would hold Ian limped into the new area, and spied a chest in the darkness to his right. It contained five more healing potions, some gold, and fifteen arrows (he took it all).
A beam of light illuminated some skeletal remains of a dead adventurerer. Ian grabbed the silver bow that the body held in death grip--mostly because bows were his favorite weapons, but mostly because of its arcane powers. A large sack of coins lay beside the corpse and,--it seemed luck came in threes-- two entire quivers of silver arrows. Armed with a small fortune and new weaponry, Ian marched through the door. A rat squeled and scurried down into the next area, while Ian took the time to investigate the contents of a nearby chest. He found some fragments of iron armor (he loathed heavy armor) and some more arrows, before something slammed a small rock into his head. Ian's head throbbed, but he turned to face his assailent-- and swore under his breath.
A zombie stood over him, holding the rock and lacking a left arm and head. Ian shackily stood and swung a mace he found on the floor at the bonewalker; inspite of his lack of skill he knocked the zombie off its feet. He nocked an arrow and fired at its chest, and was rewarded with a flaming zombie --he'd missed that the arrows were enchanted with various elements. Finally the zombie stopped thrashing on the floor, and he could catch his breath.
After several minutes of fighting through similar chambers, Ian caught sight of a goblin-- armed with a dagger-- sitting infront of a fire munching on a fried rat. It seemed relaxed and unaware of his approuch, and choked on the end of Ian's shortsword. The goblin fell headfirst into the campfire, dead; while Ian spotted a mortar and pestle, and a few ingrediants on a crate. He took the time to mix a few poisons, before continuing.
Suddenly Ian found himself in a large cavern with two goblins and their shaman, he hid amongst some stalagmites and sniped one goblin, then the shaman. He noticed a rope hanging from the ceiling, and pulled it. Suddenly he heard rats squeling and the third goblin holw in pain and outrage. [i]Oh, that's what that rope was for[i], Ian thought. The goblin killed the rodents, but fell to the floor --it would bleed to death from its wounds. As it lay there, Ian scavenged the chamber of valuables (and the shaman's staff).
Ian shielded his eyes as he opened a door and adusted to the light. He heard the voices of the Blades and the Emperer, he observed them fight off another wave of assassins. Ian jumped down to rejoin them, but was surprised to be met with the end of one of their swords. Uriel ordered them to stand down and asked for him to approach. "They don't know why you can be trusted, and niether do you," He added in a ammused tone. "Do you understand the nine? And what they stand for? I've served them all my life, and they've rewarded our loyalty in the past. What stars were visible the day you were born young one?" This caught Ian off guard. "I was born under...... the sign of the thief."

This post has been edited by Lord Revan: Oct 7 2006, 06:07 PM

[The Metal Mallet]

Well it certainly seems that Ian is a very capable fighter. He's dispatching his foes left and right. Evil beware!!

Hehe, I know what happens next

[Lord Revan]

Indeed Metal Mallet.....

-----

Chapter 2 (cont): Assassination.....

The group continued through the winding corridors, Ian was content to let the Blades handle the situation, and scavenge the robed figure's belongings. As they entered a large room, the younger guard-Glenroy- told them to wait while he scouted ahead. After a moment he told them it 'appeared' safe, and they moved to an iron gate. Glenroy swore and yelled that it was sealed, while Buarus suggested that they check the other doorway nearby.
There was no odvious exit in the small room, the Blades seemed to not know what to do. Ian was about to offer that there was a hidden exit somewhere, when a grating creaked opened and the Blades rushed to take on the assassins. Uriel closed his eyes for a moment as though in deep thought, and called to Ian. "This is where I depart, my young friend." He said handing over the Amulet of Kings. "Take it to Juaffre, and he will make the path clear to my last son." As he finished speaking an archway slid away and another cloaked assailent appeared. Before Ian could react, the warrior stabbed Uriel Septim in the back, and the old man collapsed. "Stranger," he addressed Ian. "Your loyalty to the Septims, is unfortunate." Ian nocked an arrow enchanted with a paralizing curse, and let it fly. It hit the figure in his sternum; he flinched and became still. Ian unsheathed his sword and held it threatiningly at the assassin's throat. "Who are you?" He asked. The figure's neck began to weep blood. "I serve the Mithic Dawn, and Mankar Camoran, my uncle!" With that, he tensed and threw himself onto the Emporer's blade and died. Suddenly Buarus stormed in and gasped at the sight of Uriel's body.
As he inspected his liege's corpse Ian surveyed the carnage of their battle, Glenroy lay beside one of the mithic dawn agents both had the other's sword in them. Buarus called him over by then. "Where's the amulet, I couldn't find it on Uriel Septem or the assassin." Ian showed him the jewel, and explained what the emperer had told him. "Grandmaster Juaffre? Well it makes sense, he of all people would know about this third heir." "You'll need to take the sewers out of here, it's the only exit. By the way, I heard you say you were an accomplished agent. is that true?" "Yes, I'm a nuetral agent. In other words, I'm a mercenary" "Well I've only heard about your kind of operative, but I'm hoping you'll help us crown the new emperor."

fifty minutes later, outside the sewer enterance.....

Ian took a deep breath of fresh air and freedom. It was good to leave the prison behind, and be a free man again. But first things first, he hiked up towards the Imperial City to sell his treasure and get his old gear back. The prison was not well guarded on the surface, so sneacking back in wasn't hard. Ian picked the lock on the chest his stuff was in. The chest opened to reviel a note....

This post has been edited by Lord Revan: Oct 7 2006, 06:10 PM

[The Metal Mallet]

Oooo this note sounds like an interesting twist, I wonder what it will say...

Continue please!!

[jack cloudy]

Good story, but I don't quite like the start of Oblivion (the game) myself. It makes it clear right from the beginning that things are going bad real fast. Back to your story, it's good. No goblin is safe from our friend.

[Lord Revan]

Chapter 2(cont): Starting Over Again.....


Ian,

I have taken all of your belongings in the name of my employer. Don't bother tracking me down, I don't exist. Know that your old Argonian client is dead.

A fellow agent

Ian crumpled the scroll in his clenched fist, and smoldered it with a weak fire spell. He stormed out of the Bastion, not going a particular direction. It was an insult, a humiliating event, another agent had stolen all of his resources and killed his employer. Ian hoped 'the other' hadn't located his caches of gold. he hurried to the ones here in the city. In the Arborium, Talos, one of the patron gods of war and battle, stood in the center of the area. Ian hid in the bushes and quietly slid away a hidden compartment in the base of the statue. Yes, the gold was still there intact, Ian grabbed the bags and hurried away. Another dead drop was in Green Emperer Way. He located a grave without a tombstone and dug it out. Like the other cache it was all here. With some of his weath back in his safe keeping Ian traveled to the Waterfront for the night.

The Bloated Float, what it lacked in quality it made up for in shady atmoshere. It was a good place to hide from the law and order of the city. The publican, Ormil, knew him as well as the orc bouncer. He payed ten gold for the room, and headed below deck to sleep......

A fellow agent..... who and how did he- or her- know who he was. it was an agent's greatest fear to be dicovered by another agent. But Ian had noy met any others who might steal and robb from one of their own.......


Suddenly Ian woke to a thumping noise outside his room. He donned his clothes, and opened the door and was greeted by an imperial in chainmail armor. The intruder seemed surprised. "Wha, what are you doing here? And who are you?" He seemed not very intelligent, and that was an advantage. Ian lunged forward and tackled the large Imperial. While the brigand was stunned Ian grabbed his wrists and twisted, both of the man's wrists snapped. He howled in pain and agony, as Ian tied a cloth aroung his arms, binding them behind his back. he also did the same with the man's legs. Now the interogation could begin, "Ok you, I ask the questions now. I ask you a question, and you give me an answer. And if I don't like the answer, we're going to have a problem, got it?" The man appeared to have got it quickly. "Alright who are you and who do you work for?" He wimpered, "My... my name is Linch..... I'm.... I'm with the Blackwater Bri... Brigands." "Why are you on this ship?" Ian asked Conversationally. "Look, that scroll over there has all you need, just don't hurt me." Ian read the parchment,

Linch,

You are to destroy these notes a soon as you've memorized them:

Don't get in Minx's way upstairs, and make sure that ALL the cabins are empty.
After we recover the Golden Galleon, we'll meet up in Bravil in two days for payment.

Selene

"Please don't hurt me." Linch cried. "I won't," Ian knocked him out. "much."

This post has been edited by Lord Revan: Oct 7 2006, 06:15 PM

[The Metal Mallet]

Well it seems that Ian has uncovered a plot of some sorts. Hopefully it isn't something that'll get over his head with. Many shady characters so far, I'm liking it.

[Lord Revan]

well, continuing with the story.....

-----

Chapter 3: Tussle and Murder.....

Ian had found a key on the thief's body and found that it opened the storage room door. And the the bouncer, had been locked inside. The orc had told him that the Blackwater Brigands had stormed the ship and locked ormil in his cabin. The tavern was occupied by a comely (but ill tempered) female dunmer thief. After breifly tiring out her (by explioting her firey temper) he had garnered the key to the bow of the ship.
There he encountered a bumbling nord. "Wha' who are you? Did the others retrieve the golden galleon yet, cause I'm sick of sitting here waiting." Mead filled the Nord's breath, and ian could guess he was an alcoholic. "I don't know mate, but Selene is guarding Ormil, and the others are taking naps. So how about a round of ale?" I asked casually. "Huh, ale? well alright, give it here." I retrieved a bottle of poisoned mead and handed it to him. The idiot chugged it down greedily and began to yawn, and stumble as the drain fatigue took affect. The man fell at my feet, drooling. Disgusted, I grabbed another roll of cloth and bound the nord's wrists and ankles.
I then used his key to open the door to Ormil's cabin. An imperial woman (maybe my age) was threating Ormil, but at the sound of the door opening turned eyes wide. "Ho- how did you get in here?" She was surprised an confused, and even better off-guard. "I took the keys of all your companians." "What? How did you get- what's happened to them.?" She was panicking, good "They're all lying on the floor sleeping with their arms and legs bound together." I said, matter of factly. "Im- impossible how could you best all of them alone? Here take my sword, I won't lay down my life for some stupid treasure." Taking the sword, I said. "If it was a stupid treasure then why did you want it?"

[Lord Revan]

Chapter 3(cont.): Tussle and Murder....

Ian breathed in the crisp air, as he sat on the bow of the Bloated Float. Which was on its return trip to the Waterfront. He used this time to mull over what to do next, he wanted to find this other agent and pay him-or her- back for the theft of his gear. It wasn't so much the gear as to the act itself, Ian did like to think of himself as one of the best at his trade. Slowly memories of his training years flowed into his mind.....

The Valus mountains were largly uninhabited, but nestled in the many peaks was a dojo for prospective master agents. it wasn't the only one in Cyrodiil, but no one person (or dojo) knew the locations of more than one. This was strictly for safety, and security. Even former initiates were forbidden to return to their training grounds. Ian looked over the sparring grounds, several dozen other apprentices were sparring. But his partner had yet to arrive. He paced around impatiently, it had been two hours now, and still no one else had arrived.
Ian had 'friends', but as the sensei always said, "You can make friends and contacts for the future, but you have to be ready to lose them any moment. The life of an agent is fraught with danger and perils. You might not survive your first months out in the world. So be prepared for loss." They were all drilled a hundred times to act accordingly in any given situation. It worked for keeping your alias, and help with controling emotional outbursts. You had to be able to shift attitudes and temprements at a moments notice. Be able to laugh, cry, and be angry in one breath. You had to maintain grace and balance in times of perilous acrobatics. Maintain a serene head in great stress, and control your fear.
"Fear is good, it makes you faster and more alert. It is your sixth sense, and can save your life, if you control it, but not control you." Ian had always excelled in the mental disiplines, and in some of the combat exercises. Suddenly his partner strode into view, Marik, a rather shady pasted guy. He was an Altmer, tall, statly, and just as silver tongued as Ian. Marik was an excellent minipulater, that said he was also a danger to everyone around him, even himself. If his mental powers of pursuasion went out of control, he could wreak unimaginable havok. All these traits made him such a danger that he was bunked in solitary confinment, when he wasn't training. He looked down slightly at Ian (he was a few inches taller), and gave a blank emotionless gaze that was typical of him.
Ian (and everyone else) dreaded being partnered up with Marik. But he gripped his bow ready to face the onslaught of the training course, and begged the nine that Marik wouldn't lose it in the combat excercise. Once a new recuit had been stuck with Marik, well Marik lost his focus and mistook the trainie for one of the carbon copies used for these training fights. The victim died later that night in the infirmery, screaming incherently about something that Marik had jabbed into his mind. The bell clanged to signal start, Ian took to sniping the farthest targets with his training bow, while Marik cut them to ribbons.........

Marik got washed out when he caused a epedimic of nervous breakdowns in the nearby settlements. It was decided to execute him, but when they went to his cell, they found him already dead..... nobody knows what happened to him.

The Bloated Float docked, and Ormil thanked Ian (for the tenth time), and gave him the reward for Selene's capture. Ian traveled to the Market, and sold his loot to some merchants. He would have to find some form of client that had contacts to help find this rogue agent. But the only underground types were the Theives Guild, or the Dark Brotherhood. Thieves were very distasteful, but the D. Brotherhood was so ilusive that gaining membership was only rumors. But those rumors made sense, so he would have to kill a innocent, not very ethical but it had to be done. After thinking some plans through, Ian concluded that killing a commoner would be the wisest choice. Beggers didn't have houses, and would stand out in the open. A noble would be missed shortly after being killed. But a common citizen had a house, or a eventful calender. So Ian went to the Elven Gardens District, and found a small outhouse with candle light visible under the doorframe. Silently, Ian nocked an arrow and paused a second to pace before the inevitable violence. He slid the door open to see a well dressed man pull the gold from a young woman's corpse. The man had enough time to gape at the intruder, before an arrow embedded itself in his neck. Ian turned and slammed the door, realizing he had just killed another killer. But he pulled himself together and fled into the night.

[The Metal Mallet]

A lot of new information is revealed in this update. We find out about the training of Agents, and particulary about a strange one. That side note about his death seems quite interesting.

Also this quest to basically join the Dark Brotherhood will be quite fun to read. Especially since he just murdered a murderer. Hopefully it wasn't a Dark Brotherhood Agent; they might not appreciate Ian killing their men and then wishing to join.

I can't wait to see what Ian does next.

[Lord Revan]

Ok here is a short update tonight.......

------

Chapter 4: Is That an Offer I can't Refuse?......

Ormil was definitly in a great mood, he didn't even charge Ian for the bed this time. Ian laid his bow and quiver in the corner, and his apparel on the small tabletop. He settled into a deep sleep.....

Ian silently ran through the swamp of the Cyrodiil/Black Marsh border. He turned and spotted his fellow initiates. In the din, Ian picked out his friends Raphiel, Sarquin, and Valkarez. The large group stopped at the shore of Topal Bay to make camp. They were on a survival exersize, and there were only three sensei leading the group of apprentices. Ian paused to glance at the moon, he was fourteen and a senior trainee. he and his friends would graduate next year and forge their destinies in the world, away from the scrutiny of their masters.
There were four small camp fires along the beach, and everyone was relaxed and enjoying the break from training. Ian sat with his friends, roasting some fresh venison that they had hunted earlier. Sarquin, an Argonian lass, sat across from him her scales glistening vibrantly in the light. Raphiel, a pragmatic Breton, thoughtfully munched on his piece of meat. And Valkarez, a Dunmer, slouched casually on his cushion (a bag of flour). Each of the foursome specialized in an area were the other three failed at: Sarquin was the fastest and an excellent gymnast. Valkarez was the best fighter and the strongest. Ian was a great actor, sniper, and sneak. Finally Raphiel mastered every arcane trick that was useful to his art (illusion, mysticism, cestruction, restoration, and alteration). They were the best in all their training disiplines: stealth, magic, grace, and battle.
Ian might have been the best talker, but he layed on the sand and listened to the others converse. He fought to keep his eyes open, when he heard a distant splash. Groggily, he sat up and glanced at the shoreline. At first there appeared to be there at first, but Ian strained his eyes and suddenly saw a flurry of distorted air rushing toward the campsite. "Guys, look over there. I think, I saw something." Everyone stood up and peered down the coast.
There was a faint whistling sound....... arrows rained out of the sky down on the unsuspecting agents. Ian hit the groung and took cover under his light iron shield, but an arrow stabbed into his foot. As quickly as the barrage started, it stopped. Ian hastily inspected his foot, the wound wasn't bleeding very badly, but he felt sleepier than before. Then it dawned on him, the arrow was coated with drain and damage fatigue poisons. He was helpless against the effects of the poisons, and as his comrades fought for their lives, darkness filled his vision.

Ian suddenly woke up sweating, and panting. The air felt cold..........