[X] My Assistant

[Jacki Dice]

This is a little something I've been toying with for awhile. I've decided to bring it out to the forums here. This story will include the original version of Kalila Blackstone, from Madness Helps me Save Myself. This version of her has absolutely no ties to the one borrowed in the story.

Speaking of, Madness Helps me Save Myself will continue as planned. Sometimes working on something separate for a while soothes my writer's block.

~~~~~♦~~~~~

1

“That which is done out of love always takes place beyond good and evil.�
--Friedrich Nietzsche

In a perfect world, it would have been an assassin. Or maybe a bandit. It would be someone who was out to hurt her, who justifiably deserved to die. However, as Tara Karminova clutched her dagger to her chest, she knew it would be no such person. The world was too imperfect.

She looked around the dark alleys of the Imperial City Market District for someone no one would miss. Guilt weighed in her heart for even thinking that. Did someone’s life have less value just because they had no one to miss them? Of course not. But, she needed someone whose death wouldn’t prompt a thorough investigation. Maybe a skooma addict.

Oh, dear gods, what am I doing? She leaned against the wall of one of the shops. Her heart was no longer fluttering and her stomach no longer churned. Instead, she seemed to simply accept it. That was what scared her. “It’s for Clarissa,� she reminded herself. “It’s for her.� She clenched the grip of her dagger tightly and continued lurking through the alleys.

At first she thought she had blended in quite well with the street urchins in the Imperial City. She simply threw on an old, dirty robe that had torn a little on the bottom. Her brown hair was unbrushed and thrown back in a messy bun. Once she saw the beggars in person, however, she realized how far off she was. Their clothes weren’t just dirty, they were barely intact enough to keep them out of prison for indecent exposure. None of them wore the soft cotton that she was in. They appeared to be stitched together from odd pieces of fabric and sackcloth. Tara was also far too healthy looking. Her cheeks were somewhat plump and the robe hugged her frame tightly, revealing that she didn’t often go hungry. The beggars were nothing but skin and bones. The biggest difference was their eyes. Tara could easily tell who had lived on the street by the hardness or loss of hope in their eyes. There was no way for her to imitate them in that way.

She turned behind the Copious Coinpurse into a small garden. It was empty save for a young woman sleeping on the ground. Tara crept toward her, running her finger over the black soul gem stashed in her pocket. It would have been much easier to cast some sort of spell on her, but Tara thought a stabbing would look far more ordinary than magic.

The girl stirred slightly as Tara approached. Tara straddled her and turned her on her back. She was pretty. She had quite a young face. She was probably no more than nineteen. Tara hesitated for a moment before raising her hand. A violet flash erupted from her fist and washed over the girl. Once that was done she took out the dagger and plunged it into the girl.

The girl opened her eyes wide as blood oozed onto Tara. A scream rose from her throat and Tara quickly covered the girl’s mouth with her free hand, stabbing again and again until the girl stopped moving. She wished she had known where to plunge for a more painless and instant death. That part of her research had been overlooked. Tara took out the soul gem and was satisfied with the glow of the girl’s soul.

She got up and panted, staring at the girl’s body. Did she have parents? A sister? Probably not, since she had been sleeping there alone. Still, Tara was overcome with mixed emotions.

“It’s for Clarissa,� she said to herself.



Tara had to hold in her disgust as she stared upon Clarissa’s corpse.

Three years had passed since Clarissa Blackstone’s murder and time had not been kind. Clarissa’s skin was gone for the most part, only remaining in small patches. On the pieces of skin around her temples, sat dry tufts of her once luxurious black hair, though the slightest brush would turn it to dust. Her bones were not white, like the models shown at the Arcane University. Instead they were a filthy brown. The sockets that once held beautiful grey eyes were now empty and covered by a paper thin layer of skin. The gown she had been buried in had long since been eaten away. Though she went out and bought a new robe, Tara did not look forward to redressing her. Logically that shouldn’t have bothered her any more than digging Clarissa up or even setting her body on the kitchen table.

Tara wanted to pass the time doing something other than staring at Clarissa, but she was unable to take her eyes off of her. She was repulsed but fascinated at the same time. When she finally tore her eyes away, she decided to head into the basement to distract herself.

Just yesterday, the basement was full of alchemical equipment. The shelves had been lined with empty bottles and crates full of filled ones ready to be sent off to the different Mages Guild halls. Jars of ingredients sat along the windows. Now it was empty. The windows were boarded. A metal collar attached to a long chain sat in the center of the room. Tara picked it up and tugged it with all her strength. It held fast to the wall. She sighed deeply and dusted off her hands. Hopefully it would withstand the added strength of the undead.

She took a broom from a corner and started sweeping. Clarissa still deserves cleanliness, she thought. But the basement was usually kept neat and there was nothing much to sweep. She finished in seconds. She looked at the Mages Guild banners still hanging on the walls. Her eyes welled up with tears. How could she still keep those up knowing what she was going to do? How could she ever look at Arch-Mage Traven in the eye again?

With a trembling hand, she took the banners down. She tried telling herself that it was to keep them from getting ruined, but deep down she knew it was because she felt unworthy.

When she returned upstairs she was pleased to see that the hourglass was nearly empty. It was time.

For something so complex, it was strange that it was so simple to accomplish. She had imagined an elaborate ritual involving candles and conjuring. Strangely, the hardest part had been obtaining the soul gem. That and getting the soul. She closed her eyes, forcing away the image of the girl she had killed. She couldn’t afford to think about it. All spells, complex or not, required confidence and concentration.

Her home along the Lake Rumare was close enough to hear the temple bell from the Imperial City. As it rang twelve times, Tara placed the soul gem directly over where Clarissa’s heart had been. She focused on the soul inside, transferring it the way she would to an item.

The soul was stubborn. Even in death, it resisted Tara’s demand, almost as if it knew that it would cease to exist as itself. Tara trembled violently. Her heart pounded hard and she broke into a sweat. The soul would cooperate. It had no choice.

Tara grunted hard when the soul finally entered Clarissa. She panted heavily as the gem crumbled into dust, falling into Clarissa’s bare rib cage.

Clarissa’s eyelids fluttered. She sat up, turning her face toward Tara. Though the sockets were empty, she could feel the intense stare going straight through her. Tara backed up instantly. Would Clarissa remember? Or would she react with hostility? Clarissa opened her mouth, though the only sound that escaped was a dry crackle. Her body wouldn’t return to a normal living being until she received more souls.

“Clarissa,� Tara whispered. “Do you remember me?� She took a step forward. “I’m your sister.�

Clarissa tilted her head back and forth. A chunk of skin plopped on the floor causing a surge of bile to rise in Tara’s throat. She swallowed it back down and forced herself to ignore it.

“Everything is okay now,� she said. “You’re back home now.�

She held out her hand. Clarissa ignored it, seeming to be more confused than anything.

“She’s just in shock,� Tara said to herself. She glanced at the robe. She decided to put it on her when she had more skin as there was nothing really to cover.

She led Clarissa into the basement and locked the collar around her neck. “This is just to keep you safe. When you’re back to normal you can have your old room back. I’ll even get you into the Arcane University like you always wanted.� She sighed, not knowing why she said that. That wouldn’t be possible. Everyone knew that Clarissa had been dead a long time.

Clarissa crackled again, though Tara doubted that she understood anything she had been saying anyway. No need to feel like a liar, right? she wondered. “I’m going to go clean upstairs and then I’ll have to fix up your grave outside. I can’t have it looking like it’s been recently disturbed. I’ll be back soon.�

Once she was back in the living room, she locked the basement door and then placed a plank of wood in front of it. She couldn’t chance Clarissa getting out into the open. She would be killed on sight. Tara couldn’t have that. She refused to lose her twice.

She immediately set out sweeping up the living room and kitchen. There was so much dirt. Too much. Should any guild mates come for a visit, she felt it would cause immediate suspicion. Maybe it was just paranoia, but at the same time, her sudden insistence to work from her home instead of the guild halls already seemed strange. Sure, months had passed since then, the nagging feeling remained stuck in her mind.

Though it had to be done, she couldn’t keep her mind on her task. She felt drained. She sank to her knees staring at the basement door. She could hear Clarissa shuffling faintly, the chain jingling with her every movement. She glanced at the turquoise banner on the wall bearing the Mages Guild symbol. Her life as she knew it was over. She wept.



This post has been edited by Jacki Dice: Dec 23 2019, 07:08 AM

[Grits]

That photo of Clarissa is so weirdly compelling. It’s her “before” picture.

I thought that Tara’s flashback was brilliantly done. Tara just gets more fascinating.

[SubRosa]

At once extremely creepy, and yet also deeply moving. I love reading this story. Tara is such a wonderful character, so full of emotion, that we cannot help but to feel sympathy for her. In spite of what she is doing.

I agree with Grits about the pictures. The first two are "oh neat", then the one of Clarissa is like a sledgehammer to the noggin.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Mar 14 2012, 11:37 PM

[mALX]

Those pictures have really added a whole dimension to the story all on their own !!

I absolutely love this story, it shows a whole other facet of you as a writer and I'm tickled you are finally updating it again.

I'm so sorry it is taking so long to get to read this, I just haven't had time yet, Jacki - but you know I will, just having a very tough and hectic time here, lol.


"I'll be back" (said in Arnold's voice) <3




** Edit: Holy cow, what a chapter! Tara's mind fluctuations in this reveal a lot of her mental state, but also her genius and determination. Horror, yes - but also the touch of mad scientist that will do whatever it takes to achieve their goal. Now Rufio - can't wait to see what is going to happen next !!!

You are def exceeding your own self with this story, it takes your writing to a whole new realm - it takes the world of Tamriel to a new place where nothing can be expected or known except the place. I am totally loving this story and your absolute brilliant mind and talent in writing this !!!

This post has been edited by mALX: Mar 17 2012, 04:52 PM

[Jacki Dice]

McBadgere~ I miss writing it! Boo to work and writers block and lethargy!

Grits~ Thank you I like the pic myself. I think I'll put one for each stage of her revival.

SubRosa~ I'm glad that I'm accomplishing what I meant to do with Tara

mALX~ Thanks mALX! As much as I will always have plenty of love for Wrothken's story, this one is my favorite to write. This sort of thing has always been just my style.

Chapter Six: Lunch

Morndas, 26th of First Seed, 3E431

This will be my only chance to produce any sort of study on this subject. I have grappled with the decision to put this in writing since the idea first popped into my head, but I have decided that I simply cannot throw this opportunity away.

The patient (who shall remain nameless for her and my own safety) was revived in a way that is not common to necromancers. She will not be my thrall or a guard. I brought her back because she was stolen away much too soon. I possess the power to bring her back to me and, as my mother often says about people’s talent, use it or lose it.

Most necromancers would be content with one soul used as they don’t intend to bring their victims back to full flesh and blood as I do. According to my research, she will require thirteen souls and the spell needs to be performed when Masser and Secunda are in their “new” cycles.

I dug up her grave last week and revived her to be animated. She’d been dead for so long that her body was reduced to mostly bone and the odd patch of skin. Her internal organs, including her eyes, have long ago decayed. Upon revival, she showed no signs of aggression. Possible bewilderment. I cannot read her as we have no way to communicate. I do speak to her daily. I plan to read her a bedtime story each night when life settles down a bit. I feel that it will be beneficial for her to go through this complex process hearing my voice constantly. I’m not sure if she even remembers who I am. If she does, then there is no doubt that she will be soothed.

She makes no sound except for a steady crackling. I believe that it is a form of echolocation. She mimics my movements while she makes the sound. I have yet to discover where exactly the noise comes from.

I do believe that she is unable to feel pain at this moment. She somehow managed to break her leg off at the knee. She sat there, using it to smack the floor. After I had time to think, as this has been quite the long weekend, I began to wonder if she was using the sound to help her “see.” It was considerably louder than the crackle she makes. Of course I didn’t leave her the way she was. I reattached her leg with some leather straps and later, when I had the time, I wired it in place. Her skull is also wired to her spine. That was the injury that killed her in the first place. At the time of her murder, there were other assaults… I am not sure whether or not they will have a psychological impact on her when she is fully revived.

This will be a long and strenuous procedure, but I can’t stop now. I can’t stop until she’s been returned to me.



“Dammit!” Tara awoke with a swear. She looked out her bedroom window to see the sun shining brightly. She had stayed up so late writing that she forgot about lunch with the Arch Mage. She groaned as she pulled her robe off and searched in her wardrobe for something nice.

“Dammit, dammit, dammit!” She muttered, holding up a violet dress to her neck and looking in the mirror. “I guess,” she said, changing into it. It was nothing too fancy. The sleeves were short with silver swirl designs. The skirt was pleated and brushed against the top of her ankles.

She lifted the skirt and got on her knees, searching for a pair of matching shoes. Something that hopefully wasn’t caked with dirt. Her silver ones were a little too dressy for a simple lunch. Instead she picked a pair of lavender ones.

She wasn’t sure how late it was, so she skipped a bath. Instead she pulled her hair up and rubbed a lightly scented lotion on her neck and arms.

“Clarissa!” She called to the basement on her way out. “I forgot I promised to have lunch with the Arch Mage! I’ll be back shortly.”

She picked up her skirt and ran to the edge of Lake Rumare, pausing only to cast a water walking spell. Though she was only jogging on the lake at a slow pace, she was surprised at how quickly she started to feel winded. She bit her lip, remembering when she and Kalila took the same short cut to the Imperial City. Kalila was able to keep the same pace without breaking a sweat!

She only slipped a couple times when the spell started to wear off. By time she made it to the waterfront her shoes were soaked. “Dammit!” She hissed. “What are you looking at?” She snapped at a passerby as she wrung the water from her slippers.


The table was set beautifully with a white linen cloth and polished silverware. The grass was such a rich green and the flowers that bloomed were all bright and fragrant. It was a beautiful day for a lunch outside. As the sundial slowly moved past two, Arch Mage Traven began to worry. Tara was never late. He glanced down at the table, neatly set for two, and he started to rap his spoon against the table. He frowned at the table. He was sure that she knew where to meet him. He was a man of habit and on warm days, he always had lunch in the Mages Garden. His stomach knotted even against his demands that it cease. He sneered at himself in disgust. He was acting like a boy forty years his junior, for the gods’ sakes!

He started to calm down as he began to stroll around the small garden. It would be a simple lunch; just tea and crepes. He wanted to know all about the project that had her away from the guild halls. Just a simple business lunch.

At least that’s what he told himself until she showed up.

She looked like she ran all the way there. Her cheeks were flushed and there was a light beading of sweat along her hairline. The bottom of her skirt was damp. Surely she didn’t run across the lake! That would put her right through the Waterfront. He couldn’t help wrinkling his nose at the very idea of her walking around that slum. She was lucky that she made it without getting assaulted or worse.

Tara managed a smile despite her tired appearance.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said, approaching him as she pulled her hair from her face. “I was up all night with my research.”

Traven shook his head, pulling her seat out and inviting her to sit with him. “Not at all, Tara. In fact, I’d love to hear about what it is that you’re up to.” He poured her a cup of tea. He already knew how she took it. He then placed a crepe on her plate and one on his own.

“Spider daedra,” she said. “I’m studying their silk.”

Traven frowned. “Sounds dangerous.” He sipped his tea. “What is it you hope to find out?”

Tara’s eyes lit up. This always happened when she was starting a new project. It sent Traven’s heart to a flutter. “We know about spider silk made from spiders in other provinces. Some of them have natural properties that can be drawn out and manipulated when made into clothing. So what about that of the spider daedra?” She paused to try her crepe. She smiled as she chewed it, her eyes closing as she savored it. “That’s amazing. Anyway, so what we know about daedra silk is that it’s very heavy. In fact what is really about a pound of silk feels like it’s twice that. We also know that when mixed into certain potions, it can help you see at night.” She took another bite. “But what I’m starting to notice it that if you combine just the right about radishes, it can create a chameleon effect.”

Traven choked on his tea. “Radishes?”

Tara nodded. “I discovered it by accident when I was cooking.”

Traven looked into his tea cup. “Ah…” He paused. “It must get lonely for you.”

“Hmmm?”

Traven looked up to see Tara’s eyebrows raised. He silently kicked himself. That was supposed to stay in his head. “Well,” he said after a sip. “I mean you’re back at your house doing all this alone. You were staying at the Skingrad Guild for so long and to wind up back all by yourself… I mean, you’re not even in a city anymore.”

Tara smiled a little. “It’s fine. Someone has to watch over it now that Kalila won’t be coming back every weekend.” She paused, sighing a little. “It’s so strange. Sometimes I still expect for her to come home excited about something new she’s learned or with questions about her homework. I just can’t believe she’s all grown up now.”

Traven laughed a little, glad that his slip had gone by without incident. “You’ll always think of her as your kid sister. There’s nothing wrong with that. There are some student that I’ve watched grow up and then I just sit back amazed at how time has gone by… all these years…”

He looked up at Tara, slightly disturbed at what he was realizing. He had graduated nearly a decade before her mother should have. He was still studying at the Mages Guild when Tara was born. He had known her that long… He looked away, suddenly feeling a little queasy.

“Is everything alright?”

He looked back at Tara and suddenly his sickness vanished. He just couldn’t help what he felt when he looked into those brown eyes.

“Fine, fine… I was just remembering the days of my youth.” He sighed wistfully. He noticed that she had finished eating and was looking slightly fidgety. He frowned a little. “Well, it seems I’ve kept you long enough. I do hope that you will come back soon for another chat.”

Tara got up quickly. A little too quickly for Traven’s liking. “I will. Thanks for lunch.” She smiled and he saw that it was genuine. Why was she in such a hurry to leave?


Tara felt bad. She could tell that the Arch Mage noticed her rushing. She saw it in his eyes. She didn’t mean to, but she was on a deadline. Who knew if Rufio would remain where he was supposed to?

The trip to The Inn of Ill Omen was going to take a while. She sighed, casting the water walking spell on herself as she stood on the banks at the Waterfront. At least it would put her ahead of schedule. That would give her time for some actual work.

This post has been edited by Jacki Dice: Jan 25 2013, 06:39 AM

[McBadgere]

Oh, you have much sympathy, I know all about work and lethargy... ...

Traven makes my skin crawl...He really does... ...Brilliantly done that...

Wonderfully done that picnic...Traven was far too eager to...Connect...And Tara was far too eager to get away, this is a bad combination as it'll probably just inflame Traven's purely professional desires even more... ...

Brillliant chapter...Brilliantly done...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[SubRosa]

The journal was a good way of bringing us back up to speed with where things are. Plus I believe there were a few new tidbits. 13 souls, and it has to be competed when both moons are new. Excellent choice on the new moon btw. It is a time after the death of the old, yet before the birth of the new. A time when all things are possible.

I lovee Tara's frantic dash across Lake Rumare! It takes waterwalking magic so for granted, but that is exactly how a magician like Tara would be.

So radishes and spider silk is it? In wonder how much of that was pure b.s. she made up on the spot? Probably all of it I suppose. Still, she dodged the Arch-Mage, at least for now.

Poor Traven too. From the outside he is just a creepy old man. But when you see things from his point of view, you see he does not really grasp how hard he has fallen for Tara. Though he at least does realize how much older than her he is now. I wonder if that will cause him to back off some now?

[Grits]

Tara’s detached tone in her scholarly writing made the subject somehow more chilling. All of the little details here like the wet hem and scented lotion make her such a vivid, living character. Someone I feel I might know. Someone who needs twelve more souls.

[mALX]

*

Tara’s eyes lit up. This always happened when she was starting a new project. It sent Traven’s heart to a flutter.

Lol, I wonder if Traven's infatuation will live past finding out she is a necromancer, lol. (It surpassed him realizng he was robbing the cradle, so it may live on in spite of Tara's activities. After all, she has a good cause).

Another wonderfully creepy write - you are in your element with the dark side, Jackie !!

[Lycanthropic-Legend]

You are a very talented writer. I must say the first chapter of your story was intruging. Stealth, death and undeath. Makes for a very gritty story and a truly dark tale which has my buzzing about as a fly to fire. I will have to catch up to the other chapters. But I am definetly reading this!

[Jacki Dice]

McBadgere~ I think Traven is one of the easiest for me to do.. simply because I wind up meeting people who make me feel exactly like that! And for the most part, I'm sure they don't mean to, but I'm very paranoid... >.>

SubRosa~ I think the thing I like best about this one over Madness, is getting to add what I know about magic and insert it here to build it beyond mysticism used in the game

Grits~ The journal was inspired by this song. The first time I heard it, I just stopped what I was doing, and proceeded to listen over and over. Its just too perfect! SO the journal will be an ongoing thing throughout

mALX~ Aww thanks mALX As much as I love Madness (and promise that it hasn't been abandoned!) this truly feels better to write.

Lycanthropic Legend~ Aww thanks! Its always nice to have a new reader I hope you continue to enjoy it!

~~~~~♥~~~~~

Chapter Seven: Rufio

Thirteen soul gems had been prepared in advance. Tara had one slipped in her skirt. She ran her finger down the facets as she walked down the path to the Inn of Ill Omen. What a name, she thought. It made her all the more nervous to set foot there for fear that something would go horribly wrong.

The inn was just down the street from another. In comparison, the Inn of Ill Omen had doomed itself, likely due to its name. The other inn was brightly lit and even from the distance, Tara could smell the savory food cooking inside. Her stomach complained loudly. Night had long since fallen and she hadn’t eaten since lunch.

She placed her hand on the door, but pulled away quickly. If there was only a handful of people there, or worse, just Rufio, then she would be instantly named as the killer. Though she would give a false name if needed, there was still the lack of an alibi. If she were named as a suspect and her house searched… She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath at the very thought of others discovering Clarissa. Her name would be ruined. All she worked for would be for nothing.

Tara walked around the inn, noticing windows at the ground. If it was similar to her own house, the windows would lead to a cellar. She knelt down. It was large enough for her to slide into. A dim light shone through the filthy glass. It was a chance, but a better one than storming the door.

She used the dagger given to her by the assassin to break it. She hoped that whoever was upstairs wouldn’t hear it. She crawled down on the ground, overwhelmed with the fertile smell of dirt. It only reminded her of digging up graves.

She slipped into what seemed to be a modest bedroom. She landed on a ratty bed with a tattered blanket on it. A worn dresser sat next to it. A leather bound book was a top it.

Tara sat on the bed for a moment, her stomach starting to twist at what she was about to do. She buried her face in her hands, trying to calm herself down. How was it that other people could kill without a thought, yet it rendered her sick? She never in a thousand years would have expected to wish for that apathy toward another person’s life, yet here she was.

A shuffling caught her attention. She stood up, straightening her skirt, as if she were expecting someone important. She held the dagger behind her back, biting the corner of her lip. The side of her stomach felt like a thousand spiders were nesting inside. Her hands started to feel numb. She wanted to cry.

A man opened the door, jumping a little when he saw Tara. He was considerably older than her. Definitely old enough to be her father, perhaps maybe her grandfather. He looked her up and down suspiciously. “Who in Oblivion are you?” He asked.

Tara couldn’t speak. She couldn’t find the words. Besides, what was she supposed to say? Hello, I’m Tara and I hope you’ve lived well because tonight’s your last!

She didn’t notice her hand drift out from behind her, the dagger gleaming in the candlelight. He did. "No,” he hissed. He must have known that someone would be coming for him, because he fell to his knees, gripping Tara’s skirt. “Please! I didn't mean to do it, you understand me? She struggled! I... I told her to just stay still, but she wouldn't listen! I had no choice!"

By time Tara realized what he just said, she felt like a thick grease glazed over the spiders in her gut. “By the gods…” She whispered, taking a step back. Suddenly, she didn’t feel quite so bad.

“I didn’t mean it,” he said again. “Do you understand me!” He got up, trembling violently. His eyes were bulging out of his head. “She made me do it! Dammit, you can’t punish me for that!” He took a step toward Tara, grabbing her shoulders. “It wasn’t my fault!” He screamed, spittle flying from his mouth.

“Let go of me,” she said.

“All you wenches are alike!” He said through clenched teeth. For an old man, he had a tight grip. His hands travelled down to her arms, holding her tightly. “And now you, you come into my room and you think you’re going to kill me? Huh?” He threw her to the ground. The dagger skittered across the floor, under his bed. “You stupid, little tramp!”

Tara turned and with a wave of her hand, he was bathed in the purple glow or a soul trap spell. She crawled toward the dagger, but he grabbed her ankle and drug her toward him. She wanted to scream, but she knew that if she did, it was all over. As long as he was touching her, she couldn’t cast a shock spell.

There was a bowl on the floor. She grabbed it and threw it at him. It hit him in the face, making him lose his grasp for a moment. Tara took the opportunity to dash under the bed and grab the dagger. She had to hurry before the soul trap wore off. She hated to waste magicka.

She stood up and the moment he lunged for her, she held the blade out. He ran right into it. He froze, clutching the gaping wound in his gut. Tara closed her eyes. She thought she would take pleasure in it after know what he did. Just a little. A smidgeon. But she didn’t. She felt the same filthy feeling as the last time she did it. She took the soul gem from her pocket. As his eyes dulled, the black gem glowed. She threw his body off of her. Just as she feared, she got his blood all over her clothes. She sighed, sitting on the bed. Even if she got home without running into a patrolling guard, it would take ages to get the stains out.

“You shouldn’t have done it,” Tara said to Rufio’s corpse. She could still feel his bony fingers in her arms. She was about to climb out of the window when a familiar chill swept over the room.

The assassin, Lucien Lachance, appeared in the doorway, smiling down at Rufio’s body. His smile was colder than the air around him. Tara couldn’t suppress a shiver.

“So, the deed is done,” he said. “You are now a part of the family.”

Tara folded her arms. She didn’t feel comforted. In fact, she felt even worse. “Now what?” She asked.

“Now, you accept your fate. The slaying of Rufio was the signing of a covenant. The manner of execution, your signature. Rufio's blood, the ink.” He ran his finger in the puddle of blood that formed under Rufio. He dotted it on his lips, and then smeared it on Tara’s forehead. She flinched at his touch.
“As a Speaker of the Black Hand,” he continued. “I directly oversee a particular group of family members. Every Dark Brother and Sister is a child of Sithis. He whom we call Sithis has many other names. Chaos. Doom. Discord. Sithis is the Void. We of the Dark Brotherhood serve the Night Mother, who is the bride of Sithis. The Night Mother rules her children with a terrible Black Hand. The Black Hand is the ruling body of the Dark Brotherhood. It is made up of one Listener and Four Speakers. Four fingers and a thumb, if you will. As a member of the Dark Brotherhood, you must abide by the Five Tenets. They are the laws that guide and protect us. Welcome to the family.”

She said nothing.

“I still sense your hesitation.” He laughed a little. “No matter. In time, you will feel the embrace of your family. When you are ready to meet them, you will go to the city of Cheydinhal, to the abandoned house near the eastern wall. Enter the basement, and attempt to open the black door. You will be asked a question. Answer thusly: "Sanguine, my Brother." You will gain entrance to the Sanctuary. Once inside, speak with Ocheeva. We must now take our leave of each other, you and I, for there is much work to be done. I'll be following... your progress.”

Just as he had before, he vanished. The air slowly returned to its normal temperature, this time accompanied by the coppery scent of blood. As silently as she had slipped in, Tara climbed out of the small window.

This post has been edited by Jacki Dice: Aug 12 2012, 06:58 PM

[McBadgere]

Yay!!...Missed this!...

Oooh, that was good!!...

The trepidation, the indecision...The will I get blood on my skirt?...

Brilliant stuff...

Well, old Ruffio definately deserved the punishment...

Nicely done that!!...

My views on the DB aren't exactly a secret, so I shan't bore you further with them now, just suffice to say, I had much fun ruining Lechance and offing all of Cheydinhal's chapterhouse in my story... ...I am, however, looking forward to seeing what you do with Tara and the DB, and how she keeps this from Kalia...

Love it!!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[Grits]

Oh my gosh, that song!! I listened to it so many times! There goes the day. Thanks for posting the link.

She had to hurry before the soul trap wore off. She hated to waste magicka.

I particularly liked this thought and the annoyance of bloody clothing mixed in with the horror. Tara is so practical. Great to see an update, Jacki Dice!

[SubRosa]

I sometimes wonder if Bethesda decided to call it the Inn of Ill Omen precisely because of it being the start of the DB questline.

overwhelmed with the fertile smell of dirt. It only reminded her of digging up graves.
This was a good little mood-creator.

Tara's first murder was as chaotic as I expected. I just loved her little moments of pragmatism through it all. Like hating to waste his magicka of the soul trap wore off before she killed Rufio. Or how it would take forever to get the blood stains out of her clothing.

[mALX]

What a twist you've given to entering the Dark Brotherhood! LOVE this story, you are def in your element in this dark side! AWESOME Write !!!!

[Jacki Dice]

I'm sorry I keep vanishing. When it rains...

Boy, do I have some catching up to do on my favorite stories....

~~~~~♦~~~~~


Chapter Eight: The Anvil Mages Guild

Kalila was pleasantly surprised at the scent of Anvil. She had been expecting the stench of fish and pirates to be everywhere. Instead, she was greeted with the smell of ocean and there was not a pirate to be seen anywhere in the city.

The Mages Guild sat just behind a large tree, where a few robed mages sat buried in books. It was a large, three story building made from stone and topped with red clay tile. The blue banners hung proudly over the walls.

Anvil Mages Guild

Next to it was the Fighters Guild. Kalila noticed her eyes lingering on a pair of young men heading back inside. Their faces had been flushed and sweat beaded along their heads and into the cotton shirts they wore. As one of them met her gaze and smiled, she turned quickly. Lowering her eyes, she told herself that it was only the thought of training that caught her attention. She wasn’t sure that she was convinced.

Kestrella, a chatty, energetic Bosmer, wasn’t convinced either. “Check you out. Not in Anvil for two minutes and you’re already making friends.” She twirled one of her pigtails, bright and fiery as sunset with sparkling eyes that seemed to shift from green to brown like leaves of autumn.

Though highly introverted, Kalila didn’t shy away when Kestrella put her arm around her. “I see one of these days you and me are going to have to go over there and introduce ourselves. We’re practically neighbors after all…”

“You go ahead,” Kalila said, turning back to the Mages Guild. “I’ll be busy.”

Kestrella pouted. “Busy having no fun.” She paused. “You know, all work and no play—“

“Makes Jack a dull boy. I know. I’ve heard.”

“Shocker,” Kestrella said with a sigh.

Kalila frowned slightly, until Kestrella nudged her lightly. Even the slightest curve from Kestrella’s lips seemed to have all the brightness of the sun. The Bosmer was loud, cheerful, and seemed to have a reckless streak, Kalila couldn’t help feeling drawn to her in a way that she found confusing. Since Kestrella boarded the carriage at her house in the forests east of Skingrad, the pair had formed and become inseparable. While Kalila had friends growing up, Kestrella felt different than the others.

They followed the others through the light blue double doors. The interior was just as impressive as the exterior. Brown clay tile was at their feet, covered in some areas by matching red rugs. A pair of tables topped with fruit bowls and fresh bread greeted them. In the doorways beyond the entrance, Kalila could see shelves of alchemical equipment. A few people here and there dashed about, including a wood elf with an imp flying behind him. The man took a look at him and seemed to flinch. “The graduates?”

The group responded with nods and murmurs.

He let out a light sigh, as if they had come at a bad time. “Excuse me,” he said. As he ran up the stairs, leaving the imp behind.

Hushed voices upstairs were followed by a shrill “Now?!” A groan followed, as did the sound of rushing footsteps belonging to an Altmer woman.

“Welcome to the Anvil Mages Guild,” she said, smoothing her black dress. “I’m Carahil, the guildmaster. I apologize for the delay. It seems the gods chose this day for all oblivion to break loose.” She took a seat at one of the tables. “There was an attack at the Temple of Dibella and some blasted fetchers have been causing trouble up the Gold Road.” She sighed. “I’d love to give you all the grand tour, but we need all hands on deck. Thaurron,” she turned to the Bosmer. “Show them to the chapel.” She waved her hand to the door, sighing again. “And which of you is Kalila Blackstone?”

Kalila stepped forward. “I am.”

“Good, good. Arch-Mage Traven recommended you and he said you’ve got a knack for destruction. In a good way. I’ve got just the job for you.”

This post has been edited by Jacki Dice: Jan 18 2013, 03:00 AM

[Elisabeth Hollow]

I just started reading and am intrigued!

[McBadgere]

Yay!!..A story that I have missed muchly!!...

And it returns with an excellent chapter!!... ...

Everyone seems fantastic, and that new character's quite a laugh isn't she?... ...

“Good, good. Arch-Mage Traven recommended you and he said you’ve got a knack for destruction. In a good way. I’ve got just the job for you.”

...Excellent line... ...

Got any more story lurking back there?... ...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[SubRosa]

Welcome back Jacki!

Kalila is in Anvil, and not a smelly fish or pirate in sight! I loved her and Kestrella (love that name btw, is it based upon the bird Kestrel?) oogling the manflesh of the Fighters Guild. Of course Kalila has to be a stick in the mud, too busy having no fun.

So much for the welcome wagon. The temple attacked, and fetchers causing trouble on the road? Uh oh. And it seems the Arch-Mage has been dropping Kalila's name. That cannot be good. What kind of trouble is she going to get into next!?!

[PhonAntiPhon]

Just started on the prologue, and - (yes I know I am playing catch-up with everyone else) - it certainly makes me want to read on and find out more, which is always the first test, isn't it?
I tend to cleave to characters who are either ambiguous in some way and/or have something of the dark about them, and these pieces of yours certainly open with a promise of ticking my boxes.
All good stuff,I shall immerse myself again shortly.

[Grits]

I’m so glad you’re back!

What an arrival in Anvil for Kalila, and with an intriguing new friend. I love this story!