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.

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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...."

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...

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)

Ok, well here's another update on Ian

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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......

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...

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???

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.

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

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.

Ok continuing chapter 1

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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."

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

Indeed Metal Mallet.....

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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....

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

Continue please!!

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.

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."

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.

well, continuing with the story.....

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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?"

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.

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.

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

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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..........

Hmmm a very interesting dream, sounds like a past recollection to me. I'm curious to hear about the fate of his friends, but it seems that something else has set off Ian's detectors.

Be careful buddy!

Well MM, it was a dream, and it was a past recollection. And are you familiar with the Dark B. recruitment process?

Yes I certainly am!

ok guys, here's a short post for you all.....

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Chapter 4 (cont.)

Ian opened his eyes and peered critically around the cabin. There was a tall robed man standing in front of the door, Ian didn't need to guess what the intruder was. The man said, "Greetings, murderer. You've just begun a new chapter in your life's dark journey, my name is Lucien Lachance" Ian got up and acted cordial. "Good to meet you, Mr. Luchance." He smirked, "Ah, you are obviously experienced in minipulating people by word. Now, formalities aside, the Dark Brotherhood extends an invitation to join our exclusive family." "What must I do?" "Listen closely," He replied. "On the Gold Road, south of here, there lies the Inn of Ill Omen. Wasting away his remaining days there, is an old man called Rufio. He must die for you to gain acceptence among the Night Mother's children. Now take this dagger and gold, as gifts from your new family. I bid you farewell, my Imperial brother." With that luchance dissappeared, no doubt due to some powerful spell or item. Welcome to your new family. Ian rolled his eyes, he never had a family....... except for Sarquin, Valkarez, and Raphiel....... and he didn't want another one.

Ian walked all the way to pells gate, before taking a small break. Luchance had given him five hundred septims, a sizable fee, but a small bone compared to his inheritence. He didn't know how much his own liniage had left for him, but it was a great deal. Ian had graduated six years ago, when he was fifteen...... but none of his friends had.
They had all died in the ambush. It hadn't been deliberate attack. Ian lit a small hackle-lo and looked up at the blue sky. It turned out that the group had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time...... there had been a turf wars between the lizards and cats, with the agents in the crossfire. Some managed to escape into the woods, and wait the battle out. The only reason that Ian had survived was because of that darn poisoned arrow. He slept for the entire fight, and nobody bothered to check if he was really dead. It hadn't been skill our deviousness that saved his skin, no a stupid arrow knocked him out. The others just got massacred. After the fighting ended some of the survivors found him as he was consious......... Ian, thirty appretices, and one sensei, that was it. The others had fought their way out, but he had just fallen asleep and ignored.......
He arrived at the Inn at dusk, and stepped inside....... There was a Nord for a bartender talking to a female Redguard, both were disgustingly drunk. Ian rolled his eyes, and slid silently through a trap door. There were two rooms, the farthest one had an "ocuppied" sign on it. Ian slowly opened the door, an old man was laying on the bed. Ian simply nocked his arrow and let it fly. He slowly walked away from the Inn of Ill Omen, and hoped, hoped, that the dark Brotherhood would be of some help for finding the rogue agent.......

And so begins possibly a lot of future killing for Ian. It will be an interesting read from here on out as we see Ian interact with these murderers.

Yay! The Dark Brotherhood! I can't wait to see how Ian fares along side them!

Chapter 5: Among Kin....

Ian lit a hackle-lo leaf and took a puff, he was standing outside of Cheydinhal. He watched the smoke curl in the air, and waited for Luchance to show up. Ian had already been through two rolls of leaves before Luchance arrived. "Ah, you've accomplished your end of the bargain. Now the Dark Brotherhood will embrace you as a fellow son of the Night Mother," Lucien said. "You will now join my group of family members. To find them, go into the city to the abandoned house. There is a door in the basement, a voice will ask you to answer a question. The answer is: Sanguine, my brother. Talk to Ocheeva, the mistress of the sanctuary."

The basement wasn't well lit, but Ian could see well enough. There was a red light at the other side of the room leading to a door. A raspy voice asked, "What is the color of night?" "Sanguine, my brother."
The door opened, and Ian walked into a gloomy small room. An argonian strode forth to greet him. "You must be Ian, the new family member that Lucien Luchance said would come. Welcome to your new home, a place of refuge and safety when the need arises. Well, I've kept you long enough, you doubtlessly wnt to meet the other family members here. But first, take these they are lighter than leather, and dark as the shadows." She handed him a bundle of reinforced cloth, and walked further down the hallway.
He decided to get some sleep before mingling with these assassins, hackle-lo helped keep you awake, but sleep was better.

After three hour of sleep, Ian groggily got out of his bed, grabbed his new armor, and opened the door to the dressing closet. The clothing was tight, but barely hindered movement, after wrestling the outfit on, Ian glanced at the mirror on the wall. The armor almost molded over the contour of his body, and had a menacing demeanor. He was surprised by how young he still looked, true was was only twenty, but with his past he felt older. His face was shaved, and his short jet black hair went well with his tanned complexion. However his eyes lacked the youthful energy of his body; their brown depths told of misery, hardship, and a grim determination.
Ian soon tired of his reflection, strode out of the dresser, and collided with a middle-aged bosmer woman. She looked him over. "Ah, your must be our newest family member," She said respectfully. "My name is Teleandril, faithful daughter of Sithis, and I see your a fellow archer." Ian liked her well enough.
"Yes, I'm Ian, I do like to use a bow in combat." "Splendid," She replied smiling. "Welcome to the family, and may Sithis be with you." Ian stepped aside for her to enter the dressing room. Well, maybe they're not all crazy homicides, Ian thought. This still won't be fun.......

Chapter 5 (cont.):

Ian strode into the main room of the santuary, and crashed into a very irritable Kahjiit. "Watch were you're going you filthy ape!" It snapped at him. Ian was caught off-guard by the flash of hostility, but managed to remain sober. "I'm sorry, my friend, but I-" The Kahjiit cut him off, "Stop talking!" "You're obviously the new member, let's get something clear. Right now you're nothing, not even good enough to eat on the floor, let alone be a member of our family. The only reason I grace you with anything more than my presence is because Ocheeva is the ranking member, and she told me to sell you some of my wares. Ian wasn't used to being berated, the Kahjiit might as well have stabbed him in the stomach.
An Argonian came around the corner and hissed at the Kahjiit, M'Razdar or something like that. "Brother, don't treat the new one like that, you haven't even gotten to know him yet." The Argonian chided him. "But Teinava, he's human not to mention Imperial!" The Argonian waved the comment away. "I say it again, you haven't even gotten to know him yet." The Kahjiit lowered his head, "Yes, Teinava." After that..... rather odd display of heirarchy, everything went well for the most part. Ian sold his sword and learned a bound dagger spell. He traded the silver bow for a Dwarven speciman, but kept the silver arrows. He bought some hackle-lo leaves, some poisonous ingrediants, and some food (just in case). Through it all the Argonian watched him closely, and patiently......

End of chapter five......

Well it seems Ian is integrating reasonably well with the inhabitants of the Cheydinhal Dark Brotherhood assassins.

Don't mind the Khajiits, they tend to be a little feisty.

Chapter 6: The Death of a Certain Soldier of Fortune........

The Argonian shooed M'Ragdar away and introduced himself. "Greetings, my newest brother, I am Tienava." Ian replied. "Hail, friend, I'm Ian." Teinava cocked his head and evaluated him. "Your obviously the family member who is wanted by Vecente Valtiera, follow me." And the Argonian lead him through the Sanctuary.

After climbing down two flights of stairs they arrived at a large, reinforced, wooden door. Tienava rapped loudly on the door, and it opened to reveal an incredible gaunt man. His pink eyes stared at Ian, sending a chill down his spine. This man is a vampire. Ian thought, shuddering.

The vampire seemed to realize Ian's discomfort, because he chuckled. "Ah, I can see that you've recognized me for what I am. Don't allow my...... condition to make you nervous. The Will of Sithis is greater then my needs a vampire." Ian clamed down a bit, but remained wary of the man.

Tienava excused himself and the vampire -Vecenta Valtiera- briefed him on his contract. "We've been employed to end the life of a former pirate, on his own ship and in the middle of his crew, it shouldn't be anything a child of Sithis shouldn't be able to handle." Ian nodded, Well, they haven't sent me to kill something innocent yet........ but they probably will soon.....

two hours later.......

The full moon made a beautiful reflection over the water of Lake Rumare, and like a siren's call, the sounds of the bay could lull someone into sleep if they weren't alert. The Marie Elena was moored to the stone docks.
The ship was a war galleon, maybe twenty feet from stem to stern, Tienava had suggested entering quietly through a custom-made balcony that probably connected to the Captain's quarters. Ian was inclined to agree with him on that, best to get in and get out as fast as possible.

Ian stood alone on the dock, he took a deep breath, ran at top speed and vaulted over the nine foot distance between the dock and the veranda. The planks were well mantained so they made not a flutter when Ian landed heavily on them. The door was locked, big surprise, he thought. He tapped the interior of the lock with his pick, testing its strength. Let's see four pings, so that means only four tumblers on this lock.

With consentration and patience born of years of iron hard disipline and training, Ian had picked the lock in ten minutes of toying with it, but hadn't even broken a single pick. The door slide open silently, this man's necessity for well-repaired doors and balconies is going to be his undoing..... Ian smiled to himself. There was a small dinner table covered with food and silverware, but Ian ignored it for now and focused on the inner room. The man lying in the bed snored loudly, and as Ian slowly advanced, turned out to be drooling on his pillow.

Sitting mere inches from the man's face, Ian slipped a poison out of his satchel and poured it into a nearby goblet. Once the goblet was filled to the brim, he cast a chameleon spell and clamped the pirate's nose shut. The pirate snorted and lazily sat up, he stared right at Ian, but became aware of a nagging thirst. Apon inspecting the room he found a small goblet, and threw his head back, gussling the contents down. He licked his wet lips, and stood there for a moment........ Come on, come on and die already......

As if on cue the man dropped his goblet and held his throat, making a choking sound and fell to the ground convulsing violently. He continued to thrash about on the floor for two minutesm before he suddenly became still. Ian moved closer and rested his hand on the captain's chest, and felt no thumping heart......

Murder, murder! Murder most foul!

Hehe, good update, Revan.

thanks Metal Mallet, but Ian's relationship with the Brotherhood will be rocky to say the least......

Sorry, this is a short update for now....... enjoy!
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Chapter 7: In the Nieghborhood......

Ian stood up and noticed a chest sitting on top of a drawer and shrugged. Might as well take a peek.... The chest opened and ian was glad he opened it, inside was a pouch of beautiful emeralds, and an amulet that seemed to be enchanted........
Pocketing his spoils, Ian stopped by the table and realized that he hadn't eaten since he'd left the Sanctuary. He sat down and devoured a loaf of bread and a bowl of grapes, but he scowled at the bottle of ale. After five minutes Ian had eaten his fill, and he slipped through to the balcony.
Rather then jump into the water, he eased down over the rails and barely caused a splash. The water was mild, Ian swam toward the houses of the beggers in the Garden of Dareloth.


As he strode through the Temple district, Ian noticed a Bosmeri woman and a male Argonian racing toward the gates to the Waterfront. The Argonian was chasing the woman and yelling at her. "Wait 'til I get my hands on you! You won't stop me from getting in the guild!"
Guild, what guild? Ian thought, and noticed the woman had a large journal strapped to her thigh. For some odd reason, Ian felt compelled to have that book. Confused, but willing, he stepped into the Bosmer's path and she slammed into him.
She stared at him, slightly dazed, and Ian subtlely reached down and plucked the diary from her waist. "Sorry, miss, I didn't see you." He lied. The woman regained her composure and smiled, ian found he liked that smile a little too much for his comfort. "No problem, my name is Methradel. I'm sorry, but I don't have time to talk tonight." She jumped to her feet. "Perhaps we might talk sometime!" And Methradel dissappeared with the Argonian hot on her heels.
For a moment Ian regreted stealing the journal, but he shrugged. Oh, well......

Hehehehe... I knew what that was all about.

Chapter 7 (cont.):

The night air was cold enough for Ian to see his breath waft from his mouth, and he pulled his cloak tighter around himself. He left the Temple District behind and entered the Arena's domain, for a moment he stood before the enterance but it was too late to place a bet, so he continue on.
As he walked toward the center of the market the wind picked up and Ian shivered. Tommarow, I'm getting a better coat. Fortunatly the Merchant's Inn was reasonanbly warm and hospitable. The proprieter was a cheerful, middle-aged man in middle class clothes. Ian managed to get a room for fifteen septims.
The room was up to standard, it was small, but practical. Suddenly a crippling exhaustion crept through Ian's body, and he collapsed into the bed without bothering to take off his clothes. He slept deeply, but not peacefully.

The sky was blood red, thunder clapped but there was no lightning. Smoke swirled from below, and a burning city came into view. It was sitting atop a large butte, there were three gates standing before the town's gates. A fourth one formed, this one much larger then the first three. Staring into its crimson depths, Ian could pick out a huge shape.
The blob marched forward and emerged from the portal, its armor was vaguely similar to a mud crab's, the thing had to be fifty feet in length. It continued forth, and released a rain of fireballs at the walls of the village. As they fell several dark shapes charged through the new hole, Ian could see the blurry shape of men and women running and being cut down by the attackers.
Suddenly there was a flash of light and Uriel Septim strode across the scorched ground ignoring all the destruction. He stopped in front of Ian, his face solemn, and his words were hallow, an echo. "Take the Amulet of Kings to Juaffre, and he will lead to my last son. Find him and close shut the jaws...... of Oblivion."
The scene blurred out of view.......

Ian fell onto the floor, gasping and sweating heavily. "Find him......." As the voice of the late emporer faded, Ian lost consciousness. This time he did not dream of a nightmarish scene........

The next morning Ian opened his eyes to find himself on the floor, and his winter cloak moist with his perspiration. He glanced at them and shook his head. Despite his fowl mood, Ian felt oddly rested and rejuvenated.
Putting on some normal clothes and putting his dark Brotherhood armor inside his satchel, and didn't say a word to any of the commoners that had filled the bar. He walked aimlessly for what seemed like days, but in truth was only a few minutes. He was so absorbed in his head that he didn't realize where he was going until he slammed head on into a stone pillar.
Rubbing his head, even more angry then before, Ian looked at the nearby shop sign "The Mystic Emporium." On nothing else then simple restlessness he went inside.

The shop was filled with shelves upon shelves of scrolls, books, and other magical items. Two Altmer were conversing, both about seventy by human standards, one was male while the other was female. Ian could guess that they were married, and both owned this shop......
Ian began to inspect the various soul gems arranged in a small display case. One gleamed more vibrantly then the rest, Ian picked it up and studied it for several minutres. From what he knew about these objects this appeared to be a top-quality grand soul gem.
So absorbed by the gem, Ian didn't notice that the conversation had ended and the room was silent. At least, not until someone tapped him on the shoulder. Ian gave a start and spun to glance at the male Altmer, who had apparently been watching him closely.

"Do you want to buy that soul gem?" He asked in a well-mannered voice. It took a few moments for Ian to realize what he was talking about, then he cast a glance at the soul gem. "Oh, wait your a new one to enter the Mystic Emporium. Allow me to introduce my self, I'm Calehndil, owner of the most complete magic shop in Cyrodiil."
Ian raised an eyebrow. "Every merchant can try and boast something like that to get someone to buy their wares." He had an edge of condesension in his voice.
Calehndil didn't take any offence. "Well, if you want me to prove it, then come back by next Loredas, I'll sell something special for you."

Hmm... that's an interesting way to have someone start the fight against Oblivion, scaring them from beyond the grave with nightmares. Good stuff Revan, I liked this update.

Ok, here's a short update........

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Chapter 7 (cont.)

As Ian left the shop he noticed the Bosmer, Methradel, scanning the street for something. He had a feeling that she was looking for that diary. Well, I don't have any use for it...... He mused as he approached her.
Methradel caught sight of him and stood there with her hands on her hips. "I suppose that your the one who has Amantious Allectus' journal?" Silently Ian produced the diary and handed it to her. She held it in her hand for several moments with a look of surprise on her face. "I didn't expect that you actually had it, you must have stolen it when I ran into you." Then her surprise increased. "You got in my way on purpose!"

Ian nodded and cracked a smile, and Methradel shook her head chukling lightly. "Well, thanks for giving it back, I'll do you a favor in the future, you just wait." And she melted back into the throng of citizens in the plaza.
When she was out of sight Ian's grin grew and he tossed a small pouch of coins in his hand. Then the agent strode into the "Devine Elegance." A young female Altmer stood behind the counter, polishing a golden amulet and holding it to the light to inspect it. She set it down in one of the many display cases, and nodded to Ian.
He scooped up a new, white winter cloak, and a matching pair of boots. The elf, Palonirya, glanced at them. "No less then fifty." Ian furrowed his brow, no wonder they say she is a tough customer. "No more than thirty." Palonirya glared at him for a second then waved her hand at him. "Fine, fine thirty-eight, my final offer." Ian nodded, "Deal."

As noon arrived the salty air of Lake Rumar engulfed the city, in a way it was refreshing. Ian mulled over the nightmare he'd had last night. Close shut the jaws of Oblivion? He didn't have a clue what the Emporer meant by that, but one part was clear. Take the amulet to Juaffre, and find my last son..... According to what Buarus had said back in the prison, Juaffre was the Guildmaster of the Blades and he currently lived in the city of Chorral. Every agent new what the Blades were, in a way they were competition, but mostly they were to be avoided at all costs for the agents that were privateers.
Still Ian really didn't have anything else to do, why did he have to give it to me? Why not one of his precious Blades?

A finder's reward? Heh, I like the part with the Bosmer. I like the rest as well. Go ahead and continue.

Chapter 8: The Quest.....

The walk to Weynon Priory wasn't half-bad, aside from the occassional wolf or bear, but nothing that was particularly threatening. Ian mulled over his recent change from an agent working in the down and dirty criminal world, to a pawn of the Emporer. I could always back out of this....... why haven't I?

When an answer didn't reveal itself, he shook his head and let out a weary breath. Why didn't I just sell the blasted amulet in the Imperial CIty, or hand it over to Chancellor Ocato? Again an answer illuded him, and he continued to stalk through the Great Forest. The way I see it, he thought sourly to himself. Is that I have no reason to do anthing more then give this monk the Amulet and leave this all behind.

After a couple of hours Ian spotted the priory house, and approached the courtyard. The chapel, which every priory seemed to have as custom, sat to his right, the towering structure about tow-three stories tall. Ignoring the dunmeri shepard, Ian walked into the house and was greeted by a man in his late fourties.
The monk asked him why he was here, and Ian answered in a slightly agitated tone. "I'm here to see Juaffre, my business is private." The man muttered, "We get a lot of people coming that want to see him, I did't think about it until that young Altmer came by....." Ian, for reasons he couldn't grasp at the time, was interested in this High Elf the man spoke of.
When asked he rolled his eyes. "Some young woman wearing robes came by awhile ago to talk to Juaffre, and then left without any explanation." Most would have discarded this as irrelevant, although Ian was tempted to ignore this information, he knew better then to think heedless of his instincts.

Pushing his suspicions aside for now, he climbed the stairs to the study where the grandmaster was supposed to be. Ian didn't know what he had expected to see in the leader of the Blades, but a curt, past prime-fighting-age man wasn't it. "My name is Juaffre, what do you want?" Ian wordlessly passed him the Amulet of Kings, and the old man dropped it to the floor and jumped back when the trinket touched his hand.
"BY THE NINE DEVINE!" He shouted sweating greatly, and clutching the table for support. After two minutes of shock, Juaffre suddenly stood up with a dagger aimed to Ian throat. "WHERE DID YOU GET THAT AMULET?" He roared at the agent.
Ian remained as motionless as possible, being stabbed wasn't on his list of things to do, he held up his hands in a gesture of peace. "Hold on now, Uriel Septim gave it to me to give to you before he died, and I still don't know why he gave it to me instead of his ever-so-powerful Blades."
He regreted those last few words as they left his mouth. Am I trying to calm this guy down, or get myself killed? Juaffre held his dagger rigidly but was obviously thinking about Ian's words. "Though I would normally have killed you for illegally possessing the amulet, I am inclined to trust you, only Uriel's spirit and Talos could have brought you here with it."
He sheathed his dagger, and Ian relaxed as the tension deminished. "The Emporer said you know where the last hier resides...."

The plot increases... I look forward to what happens next!

Chapter 8 (cont.)

The conversation was quite civil after that one show of hostility. The youngest monk even offered Ian a sweetroll, to which he declined. Upon the mention of food, he realized he was starving, and left for Chorrol.

According to Juaffre, the heir, Martin, was currently in Kvatch. Ian still wasn't sure why he was aggreing to this insane plan, if that was what one called it. He also doubted it would be as easy as the elderly Blade invisioned.
And then there was that Altmer, Ian had a feeling that she was in Chorrol and was of some relevance. Though how had yet to be seen, he had not asked Juaffre about her on purpose. I might as well find her myself, and get to the bottom of this as soon as possible......
Chorrol wasn't exactly the Imperial City, but it was far from run-down. The houses were all in some state of cleanliness and repair. Following his instincts Ian strode toward the Oak and Crosier, the high-end tavern of Chorrol.

The inn was filled with men around the bar, the Khajiit publican was struggling to kep up with the demands for ale and mead. Ian shook his head, whatever other men see in those poisons, I will never know.
Glancing around, he noticed a robed fingure sitting in a corner, munching on a bowl of grapes. It was clear that this was the woman Ian was looking for, and he sat down across from her. Her face was shrouded by her hood, and her hands were gloved -if he had not known she was a High Elf he couldn't have identified her.
Her eyes, which were partially distingishable, were taking him in. Ian patiently waited for her to speak first. Finally she spoke in a fluent Cyrodiilic voice. "What do you want, stranger?" She did not seem particularly threatened nor was she threatening Ian.
Her Cyrodiilic is too natural to have been raised in Summerset or any other province That led Ian to the conclusion that she was born in this province and had lived her for much of her life, or at least her recent years. "You were at Weynon Priory earlier, correct?" He asked in a measured tone.
"Yes, am somewhat religous and wished to stop by to pray on my way here." She was calm and her voice gave nothing away, but all the same, Ian could tell she was lying. "I seriously doubt that, you talked at length with one of the monks, Juaffre was it?"
He could have sworn her eyes narrowed slightly, but again her words did not betray suspicious in the slightest. "I am an scholar of the Mages Guild, I visited a nearby religous community to pay my respects to the gods, and spoke to one of the worshippers. Is that a crime? I don't know if you believe in the Nine or not, but I do." This might be harder then I thought......... Ian reflected. "Very well, my apologies miss......."
Beneath the hood she sighed and calmed down. "My name is Kirana, I should be the one to apologize I've just been under a lot of stress lately." Ian decided to break one of the most important rules when working with a stranger. "No hard feelings, I'm Ian. Perhaps I could purchase some beverages?"

Something deep in Kirana's eyes lit up for a moment, and she pulled off her hood. Ian thought all elves were exotic, more less then others, but he found it hard to breathe for an instant.
Her eyes were brown like his, and her hair was a metalic grey, it even reflected the light somewhat. Like all Altmer, Kirana's skin was a healthy golden complexion, Ian could have believed it glowed but knew it was also reflecting the light of the candles spread throughout the tavern. Finally her grey hair reached to her shoulders, and loosely caressed her face.
Ian found her utterly captivating, but the wize words of the sensei echoed through his mind. Keep your eye on the pretty ones, don't avoid them, just be careful, looks are what the people who want to kill you will use against you. "I don't like alcahol, I'll have some water."
Those words rang through Ian's head, that's almost word for word what I say....... "Ok, I'd like water myself." As he got up Kirana gave him a ravishing smile, it only motivated him to get the drinks faster. Something isn't right about this woman.........

That last sentence has the exact same sentiments as I do, Revan. Ian should be careful around this one...

Excellent description of her though, mysterious and beautiful.

Oh, suspicions eh? I like Ian. He thinks about his moves.

Sorry, but this is a short one for now.

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After a couple hours at The Oak and Crosier, both Kirana and Ian decided to leave before the real drinkers arrived. He found himself watching her as she looked at the horizon, her grey hair blowing in the wind. Crap, this isn't very profesional.

Finally Kirana broke the silence. "Well, it's getting late. Maybe we could talk again tomorow." Ian nodded, favoring the darkening sky. "Right, we might as well get some sleep tonight." She gave him another smile and strode down the road to the Mages Guild.
As she left, Ian sighed and shook his head. If only I was normal and this all could be for real...... He dreadfully wanted to pursue this captivating woman, but he reluctantly pushed aside his bleeding heart. It's for the best, maybe in different circumstances, but not here, not now.

Kvatch, one day later.....

Ian leaned on a tree for support, he'd left Chorrol without getting a horse. That would have required talking to someone, or stealing it, neither of which are practical. But the wisest paths were rarely the easiest on mind and body.
Taking a couple of minutes to catch his breath, Ian took in his surroundings. Let's see, trees, bushes, nearby cavern, possibly abandoned........ and- The rest of the thought was lost when the agent heard something snarl nearby.

Cautiously he unslung his dwarven bow, and readied an arrow, searching for the source of the noise. Straining his ears for another disturbance, and was rewarded with the sudden appearance of a long, scaled snout right beside him.
Ian remain absolutly still, he hardly breathed, the thing beside him however made a huge ordeal of sniffing the he was hiding behind. With painful slowness, the Imperial turned his head to evaluate the creature.

The close inspection caused his heart to skip a beat. The creature's head was about two to three feet long, its eyes were like an Agonians, but twice as large. The yellow, slitted eye danced in its socket, studying the forest in front of it. Two-inch long fangs were visible, jutting out of the monster's mishapen maw.
Fighting back against any foolish action that would give him away to the hulking deadroth. Stay calm, stay calm. If you don't move then maybe it will let its guard down..... The faint hope was immediately destroyed when a smaller, frilled creature came from the bushes on the other side of the clearing.

The clanfear quickly spotted the agent, let out a terrifying shriek, and charged forward. But miraculously the deadroth raised its head and bellowed at the oncoming creature. Ian thanked whatever gods had seen fit to give him this chance, and he jumped onto the lowest treebranch.

Once he steadied himself, Ian leapt to the next branch, and heard the clanfear's frustrated cries. The deadroth had spotted the sudden movement, and it looked up at the bowman in the tree.
Alright, Sithis, Mephala, Azura, Akatosh, I don't carem but I couldn't be more happy with worshipping you then ever! Ian thought as he nocked his first arrow......

The Daedra cometh! And it certainly looks like Ian is in a bit of a predictament. Hopefully he'll survive this ordeal.

Another short one, I hope to get a nice long update this weekend or so.......
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The first arrow flew true, and impaled the clanfear in its tiny chest. The little repilian creature, fell to the ground, thrashing in agony. Ian turned back to the deadroth, expecting it to simply act frustrated by some powerlessness....... But the Imperial only managed to see it spit a fireball from its great jowl.

What!? Was all he could think before the flames splashed over his chest. The pain was excruciating, and Ian's breathing was ragged as he stumbled on the branch. He lost his balance, and landed hard on the ground.

But this was both good and bad, good because he landed in a small pond, which weakened the flames and the suffering they wrought. Ian struggled to his feet, his entire body hurt with every twitch, but through his hazy vision Ian saw a large grey shape moving closer.

The deadroth roared as it charged at its prey, eager for the nourishment of this man's flesh. It opened its mouth wide and tilted it nearly horizontal, giving itself more of a chance to grab the food before it. Ian, though disorientated, thought otherwise, and he ducked under the lethal fangs and claws.

Firmly planting his hands and knees, the agent, pushed upward against the monster's bulk. In spite of the intense protests of his body, Ian (plus the deadroth's forward momentum) lifted the giant crocodilian of its feet and flipped it over.

The fiend slammed head-first into the mud, the rest of its body hit against a nearby tree, its massive inertia splintering the small sapling. The top of the young tree, as though in retrobution, fell on to the crumbled form of the deadric crocodile.

The sickening crack! clearly stated that the beast was dead, head smashed by the wieght of a falling tree. With the sound Ian fell to his knees, exhausted by both the task of throwing something of a deadroth's size, and from the pain that still raked his body with every breath.

He licked his lips, still gasping for air, and tasted blood. With that he remembered how serious extreme burn wounds could be when not treated. Opening his satchel, being as careful as possible not to get too much of his blood on the bag, his burned, blood-caked hand hand pulled out a healing potion.

Ian drank heavily, causing some to drip onto his chest. He threw it to the ground, smashing the vial, when there was nothing left, and he felt the sensation of full-body healing that made one's skin crawl (in this case literally!).
Only when his skin was finished shifting and rejoining did Ian get up and look at the ruins of the city on the hill. Kvatch, Martin septim's last known location...... He let out a heavy sigh. Why am I even doing this? But, ignoring the unanswered question, Ian began to walk down the road.........

As he strode down the road, Ian looked over his cloak. The apparel was now rough and blackened from the deadroth's fire. For the love of, I just bought these and their already ruined...... Ian wasn't into fashion, but it was prudent to dress well when in an influencial person's presence....... and it was his gold he had to pay with.

Ian sighed and checked his satchel, surprisingly it was relativly intact, aside from being soaked from his fall. This must be made of fire-resistant material..... I wish I had clothes like that too. He still had five healing potions, a dozen or so poisons, and some hacle-lo leaves.
Dwarves were fine craftsmen, the metal bow had't taken any damage in the fall or from the flames. Too bad they're all extinct now, sure could make a good weapon, those mer...... The ruins of Kvatch were still burning, but Ian didn't pay too much attention to it, he'd never really visited the city. So he didn't feel particularly angry or frightened by the town's fate.

He noticed something else, smaller fires, too small to be anything but campfires. Refugees, Ian concluded. His guess was proven correct as he left the main road and made his way through the trees. There were several crude tents, only big enough for a single bed, a couple of fires, each with a group of exhausted looking people sitting around it.

As Ian walked into the camp he was partially disgusted that everyone seemed to brim with so much self-pity and fear that they simply sat there, hardly taking in his presence. Do these people honestly think that the world isn't like this all the time?
Ian knew that normal citizens looked to the watch to protect them, and they never thought about what sort of tragedy could befall them in the future. Their like leeches, they can't live without a structure to surround them..... Having no true home for himself, Ian couldn't help but feel a measure of revulsion at these people's weakness.

After several minutes of watching the scene, Ian decided that if he wanted to find Martin he'd have to find whoever was in charge. That is if he's still alive...... He began to ascend the winding trail to the gates of Kvatch, but a man in a priest's robes stopped him.
"Don't go up there, you'll be killed like all the others. If you leave then you might be safe!" The priest gripped him tightly on the shoulder, but Ian grabbed him on the wrist and lifted his hand off his shoulder. Staring the old man hard in the face, Ian released the man's hand.

"I have a reason to go up there, and I can handle myself." The priest rambled, "there's no point. The covenant has been broken, the Emperor and his heirs are dead, and the enemy slaughters us. Where is our protection? Where are our gods? Lord Dagon spills our blood and we are helpless against his legions!"

Ian's eyes narrowed and his voice was full of contempt. "Look at how pathetic you are, you kneel before a statue of some deity and mutter at the air all your life. When something razes your city you whimper like a frightened animal, while others take up arms to fight back, and you claim it is the work of something that might or might not exist."

"I don't care if I go to hell, I'm going up there to do what must be done. Sit with the other refugees, but don't spread this non-sense about some devine's inevitable conquest, because they're bad enough as it is!" With that he brushed past the priest, angry and disgusted he to marched up the trail.

Chapter 9: This is sacred ground, it was built for mortals, by mortals.......

The further Ian ascended, the more dramaticly the atmosphere changed..... for the worst. The starless night sky was replaced by a sanguine sea of dark storm clouds. Every few moments there was a flash of white lightning and the rumble of thunder.

Well, there's no way this could be natural...... Ian mused, humor often helped lighten the suffocating pressure of dread. The grass gave way to cooled magma and steam vents; it appeared that everything was being affected by...... whatever was going on.

At the crest of the winding path up to the ruins was an improvised barrackade, with around twenty guardsmen milling around behind the palisade fortifications. Most had a look of hopeless resignation mingled with a burden of guilt and loss.

Still there was a few who were obviously holding together the surviving guards. An Imperial, in his early thirties, stood glaring at a pair of carved rocks. No, Ian thought. Those aren't carved rocks....... The guard captain was staring at a pair of curving prongs of blackened rock. And between the twin prongs was a wall of roiling ruby light.

Ian noticed the resemblance the structure had to the avatar of conjuration magic; he managed to put two and two together. Are these things related to Oblivion? As if to answer his question a swarm of black shapes broke the shimmering portal.

The guards rose to combat the new arrivals, with Ian in tow. The agent didn't unsheath his blade yet, the invaders were a pack of clannfear and five deadroth. While the two groups collided and unleashed chaos, Ian looked back at the gate and slowly approached it.

No more than two meters away, two new forms appeared silhoueted in the haze. They were humanoid, one had sharp spiked apparel -armor?-, yet the other wore what could be robes. Both forms emerged, resolving into two dremora.

The armored one surveyed the scorched landscape with smoldering red eyes that blazed through his ebony-black helmet. His companion, a mage apparently, payed more attention to the battle between the Kvatch Guard and their subordinates.

Finally after an eternity the warrior's firey eyes rested on the human man before him. "Mortal," its voice rasped like metal grinding against metal,and Ian stiffened, bracing for the inevitable attack. "I, Arayth, Markynaz of Lord Dagon challenge you to a duel."

The dremora pointed a single finger at him with unmistakable authority, but Arayth's partner gave hima questioning look. "Come now, brother, surely we can simply blast this mortal apart and be done with it. Our orders are to exterminate these mortals, not hail them as equals."
The Markynaz met his kinsman's comment, "I can show anyone I want honor; it is my right. He will die, either by your deathcraft or mine."

Arayth returned his attention to Ian, "face me mortal. Prove to us the prowess of a mortal champion!"

Oh boy. Ian looks like he's in trouble. But I also have to say that your descriptions of the scenery were quite vivid; you get a perfect sense of desolation. Great stuff!

I'm surprised he managed to creep up that close without being spotted (and consequently, intercepted.)

And yeah, it looks like he is in trouble. I don't know about the strenght of Oblivion creatures, but I think that a Dremora is more powerful than a Daedroth. (Or at least a highranking Dremora.)