All original content of The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion copyright Bethesda Softworks and Zenimax Media Company. Select character names copyright Luc Pollard and Dan Dwyer. Majority of story copyright Luc Pollard.
A Tale Of Two Argonians
Introduction: The End
I don’t know if anyone will ever find this, but I don’t care. Whether people read this journal or not does not change what happened… what’s about to happen… what has to happen.
My name was Laskiir Marcuska. Most folks just called me Marcus. Not very memorable, is it? No tales will be told of my exploits. Yet once I was a feared and respected Silencer for the Brotherhood. You know which brotherhood I’m talking about. Now I’m a nobody. The life I once treasured has slipped through my fingers like sand through a sieve.
Too much lately, I’ve been asking myself, ‘Where the hell did I go wrong?’ That no good, dirty, rotten son of a bitch, Fupas! That’s where! I curse the day I met him, and that I didn’t run him through when I had the chance! I trusted him. I TRUSTED HIM! And just look where that got me; alone, forgotten, and most importantly, about to die in some god forsaken cave.
Oh, sod it. That’s enough writing. Alright then, so be it. How ironic; I always thought this dagger Lucien gave me was too small to be of any use. Well, it is a virgin blade, no more. Heh heh, Woe is me. Here we go, right through my black heart. I’m coming, Death. Into the Void.
One… two… three…
Chapter One: Home Bittersweet Home
“So, M’raaj-Dar, any interesting contracts lately?”
“Didn’t you just ask me that ten seconds ago?”
“Did I?” Teinaava cocked his scaly head. “No, I don’t think so. I would remember if I said the same thing twice.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. How silly of me.”
“…So, M’raaj-Dar, any interesting contracts lately?”
“Yes, dear Brother, as a matter of fact, I…” M’raaj’s ears pricked up.
“What is i-” Teinaava began, but M’raaj held up a claw to silence him. He gave him the ‘this way’ signal, and the two silently crept towards Ocheeva’s door. The doors were thick, and Ocheeva was speaking in a hushed tone, but snippets of the conversation worked their way through to the two eager eavesdroppers.
“This… most dangerous… the fewer… know… the better… do you… Marcus?”
“I’m not sure I…”
Someone in armour clanked past the pair crouched down, shaking his head at them.
“…do it.”
“Go.”
“Fuck, get back,” whispered M’raaj sharply.
The doors swung open just as they sat down in the far corner.
“So, Teinaava, any interesting contracts lately?” M’raaj blurted out much louder than necessary.
“Hey, weren’t we just talking about -“
“Shut up, you idiot!” hissed the house-cat.
However, they were safe. It was clear as Marcus entered the hall that he was not even aware of their presence, let alone that they had been listening in on his conversation. He gazed despondently at the great stone door standing between the sanctuary and the mouldy basement that hid Cheydinhal’s dark secret.
“I’ve got to get away from here,” he murmured. And as if pulled by some invisible force, he walked awkwardly to the door and clamored through.
“What do you suppose he meant by that?”
“I don’t know.” M’raaj flicked his tail thoughtfully. “The only person who has been with this sanctuary longer than Marcus is Vicente. You don’t get to be here as long as Marcus has and then just leave it all behind you.”
“How is he even still alive anyway? He must be over three hundred years old! We argonians don’t have half that life expectancy! Not that he looks older than twenty five. Sometimes I wonder if he’s one of us at all.”
“What are you asking me for? You’ve asked him countless times more than anyone else has, and he hasn’t told you either. But my point is that there’s no way he’s backing out.”
“Good point. But then again,” Teinaava pointed out, “you don’t know exactly what it is Ocheeva said to him. We all love blood, death and suffering here, but even the darkest of hearts has a line it won’t cross.”
“Yeah,” M’raaj purred quietly, “Maybe.”
Chapter Two: Out On His Own
Marcus sat against the castle wall, deep in thought. He had started down a dangerous path, on which there was no turning back. He had burned his Brotherhood armour in a brazier outside Bruma, then walked into town stark naked, claiming to be robbed. The local smith was sympathetic and gave him a spare coat, pair of pants and two mismatched shoes he had lying around.
“Keep them, friend. You need them more than I.”
Marcus hadn’t worn ordinary clothes in years (it had been armour since he was strong enough to carry it), but he was wasn’t frozen, so he couldn’t complain. However, he had a dilemma. All his money was back at the sanctuary, and there was no way he could go back there. The best way to make money these days was to join a guild. Magic was like another language to him, so the Mages Guild was out. He couldn’t see himself lasting very long in the Fighters Guild, either. No, the only guild that he would truly excel in would be the Thieves Guild. After all, his life had depended on staying undetected for the last two hundred fifty six years. But how the hell did you get into that? It’s not like they had signup booths.
When he had murdered that unlucky sod, once upon a time, the Dark Brotherhood had found him. Did it work the same way for this? Of course, the Dark Brotherhood had a supernatural being to help them. Marcus doubted the Thieves guild did. Unless the Grey Fox was a god. Was he? Marcus hoped not. He didn’t like the idea of working for another all-powerful force of… whatever. At any rate, stealing to draw attention to himself seemed like the best course of action. The ideal location was obvious. He’d go to the Imperial City. Bigger city, bigger prizes.
That night, he broke into the blacksmith’s shop to get a few supplies. The man had helped him once, so he could do it again. Marcus didn’t think it was necessary to leave a note. The smith knew he was grateful. Around three, Marcus climbed out the window with some sturdy leather armour, and a few blades, though no more than he needed. He had a shortsword on his thigh, a longsword on his belt, a claymore on his back, a dagger secured to his arm, a kris concealed under a flap on his chest, and finally, a butter knife strapped onto the sole of his boot. Hey, it paid to be prepared.
So, armed for the trip, he slunk down the steps without a sound, passed through the gates and continued down the slope away from the city.
“Did you hear something just now?”
Marcus glanced over his shoulder, smirking at two bumbling guards.
“No, it’s just your imagination. I’m your relief, now go get some sleep. Sounds like you need it.”
Chapter Three: A New Family
An average citizen would be fighting off a panic attack right now. A seasoned pickpocket’s heart would be racing. A master thief would be considering ditching the loot to save his skin. But Marcus sat patiently, constricted to the contours of the rather small barrel. He had gotten in around six in the morning, the shouting had reached him close to eight, had died down by seven in the evening, and he felt it best to stay put at least until eleven. Yes, it took incredible patience to do this, but when it came to patience, Marcus was beyond a master. Nonetheless, his tail had been killing him for the first five hours. Now he couldn’t feel it. He wasn’t sure if it had gone numb or just fallen off. At least he had stashed the blades in another barrel.
Eleven came around, right on schedule, but Marcus decided to give it another forty five minutes for good measure. Then, slightly lifting the lid first to check that the coast was clear, he finally heaved himself free. He did a few stretches, then went to find a bush to relieve himself in. He had early on begun to regret all the ale he had drunk the previous day.
“Ooooohh that hits the spot.” He looked around at the little shacks surrounding him. “No wonder people avoid the Waterfront District. What a shithole.”
He instinctively darted behind a low wall when he suddenly saw torchlight coming his way. He was passed by a redguard, two argonians and a bosmer.
“Ugh, fuckin’ wood elves,” Marcus thought bitterly.
“Good evening, lady and gentlemen. You all seek entrance to the Thieves Guild,” the redguard said confidently. He must have rehearsed this. The others seemed enthralled by him; they were rapt at attention. “Rather than the usual test of skill, I’m going to make this a competition.” He had his hand on his chin like he had only now thought of this idea.
“That’s not fair!” whined the argonian on the left. Marcus twitched. Where he had come from, whining was practically a felony. The redguard went on to say something about some diary.
“Hah,” shouted the bosmer, “I’ll have it before sunrise!” And off she ran, with the other argonian in tow. That was wood elves for you. Annoyingly charismatic, and dumb as a sack of doorknobs. The whiney argonian, who was apparently named Amusei, meandered off after a while. Marcus decided now was the time to approach the redguard.
“Who’s there?”
“Relax, redguard, I’m a friend. I too come seeking entrance to the Thieves Guild.”
“Thieves Guild? ‘Friend’, everyone knows that’s just a myth.”
“I heard the whole deal about the diary and all that.” The redguard’s expression hardened.
“Well then, you know the rules. Perhaps you should get going if you want to get there first.”
“I thought you might make a special exception for me, and more importantly, for this.” Marcus pulled a long package wrapped in cloth from his bag.
“You’re shitting me. That can’t be what I think it is. I mean, the beggars told me it had been stolen, but I never thought it would find its way here. Is that really…”
“Indeed, it is.” Marcus unwrapped it slightly, making the gold and jewels shimmer in the firelight. “The royal scepter of Uriel Septim.”
The redguard mouthed a few words of disbelief, then managed to compose himself. “Yes, I think we can make an exception. I’m Armand Christophe, by the way. You got a name, stranger?”
“Marcus. Just Marcus.”
“Well, just Marcus, welcome to our ranks. I think you’ll fit in just fine.”
“WHAT?!” The elf stood aghast. The unnamed argonian was walking up behind her, holding a small book.
“What’s the matter,” Marcus taunted, “can’t handle being beaten by TWO argonians in one night?” The other argonian snickered.
“What… you… you’ll pay… whatever! I’ll get in eventually anyway!”
“Looking forward to it, hun. See you then.” She stalked off, muttering obscenities.
“Thanks for that,” the argonian chuckled, “I can’t stand that woman. Too peppy for her own good, let alone mine.”
“Any time, and uh, you are?”
“Fupas.”
“Nice to meet you. I don’t mean to sound cheesy, but I think this is the start if a long and fruitful friendship.”
“Not at all, I completely agree.”
“Ahem,” Armand coughed impatiently, “if you ladies are finished, we have work to do. Loot doesn’t steal itself.”
“Right, see ya round, Fu.”
“Likewise.” He strode off into the darkness.
“Marcus, I think I already have a job for you.”
“Glad to hear it. What did you have in mind?”
Chapter Four: From The Horse’s Mouth
“Some job that had been,” Marcus thought irritably. Returning the scepter to the exact spot it had been in before he had touched it went more smoothly than one would expect, but it was still annoying. “Too hot for any merchant. Bah! It’ll take some getting used to working with people who lack the balls or knowhow to erase a crime.” But that was three days ago. Now he was in Anvil. Time to move on. He sat down on a rock, for lack of anything better to do, but instantly felt invisible eyes watching him. It couldn’t be him. He had distanced himself completely from them.
“Pssst! Marcus! Behind you. In the bushes.”
Marcus breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. He casually backed up against the wall behind him, then slid down to his knees, into a large bush. “What can I do for you, Fupas?”
“I have a proposition for you. I’ve worked out a job, but it requires a second player. I’ll make a partnership with you, we split the profits fifty-fifty. If you do good work, we keep going together. Sound reasonable?”
“Hey, I’m game. But only on the condition that this is something interesting. Don’t waste my time with boring jewel heists.”
“Oh, you won’t be disappointed.” Fupas smiled broadly, showing all his razor-sharp teeth. It was that smile that makes all non-argonians nervous, no matter how sure of themselves they are.
“Who’s the chump, then?”
“Ever heard of a guy named Janus Hassildor?”
“Yeah, I think so. Social recluse, enjoys a pint of human blood every now and then, rules a little town called Skingrad. That Janus Hassildor?”
“The very same.”
This time Marcus smiled the smile. “I like your style. No wasting time on petty theft, just straight on to grand larceny! Tell me the details.”
“As everyone knows, Count Hassildor is a powerful wizard. As such, my source tells me, he has a vault set aside beneath the castle for all sorts of magical objects. Ancient relics, scrolls, weapons, experiments and so on and so forth.”
“Who’s this source?”
“The captain of the guard.”
“Wow, I’m impressed! You managed to convince him to tell you all this?”
“Convinced?” Fupas cast his eyes down mischievously. “Not exactly.”
“What then? Money? Magic?”
“No to all of those, so what are you left with?”
Marcus sighed. “Booze?”
“Ding ding ding ding ding! You are correct, sir!” Fupas fell over, giggling hysterically.
“Alright, alright, come on then. Skingrad is a good day’s hike away. We’d better get going. Let me retrieve my weapons.”
“Hey,” Fupas said quickly, slightly embarrassed, “Do you think you could spare one?”
“…I suppose I might be able to part with just one.”
* * *
“Marcus!”
Silence.
“Marcus?”
Still nothing.
“Hey, Marcus, where the f-”
“I’m right here, now be quiet. We’re not alone.”
How long has he been standing right next to me? Fupas wondered. They ducked off the edge of the road, into a clump of tall weeds. After an eternity, a bush on the far side of the road moved ever so slightly. Fu slowly took out his bow and notched an arrow. But suddenly he felt the edge of a knife on the back of his neck.
“Well hello there, traveler. You’re no merchant, but I don’t have a problem taking all your possessions anyway. Say good-” THWACK! “Whoof!” the high elf gasped as her knees buckled beneath her. Marcus was standing over her, cradling his fist.
“Your ribs are harder than I expected, I’ll give you that. Maybe, if there was going to be a next time, you would think to wear some sort of armor. Even brainless bandits know that much about holding up combat-experienced travelers. I’m surprised you even thought to bring a weapon. Not that a dagger is going to do you any good now.”
She coughed and desperately struggled to her feet, wincing as she did so.
“Careful. I aimed to break something, and I don’t miss.”
“Fool,” she spat furiously. She was now a a safe distance away from the pair. “You think just because I don’t carry heavy weapons I’m defenseless?!”
“As a matter of fact, yes. Yes I do.”
“In that case, have a taste of THIS!” She thrust out her hand, and bolts of lightning shot from her fingertips. But at the last second before hitting Marcus, he casually stepped aside, letting them strike a tree behind him, which exploded into an inferno of flying limbs and leaves. Marcus yawned.
“Shit! She’s a battlemage,” screamed Fupas over the noise of the blaze. He let loose his arrow, but the elf gave it one look and by the time it reached her it was ash and melted iron by her feet. When she looked in front of herself again, Marcus’s face was inches from her own. She immediately put her hand on his chest.
“Say good-” SPLORTCH! Marcus’s face was showered in blood, as an arrow tunneled its way through the elf’s skull. He glanced at Fupas.
“Hey, don’t look at me! It came from behind her!” He held up his hands innocently.
“That’s okay. I’ve always wondered what high elf tastes like. Now I know.” He pulled the arrow out the way it had come, and shrugged the elf off his shoulder. “Hang on. I know these arrows.”
“They’re steel arrows. You can find them in any smithy. Of course you know them!” The tree had now burned down to a low burning stub.
“No, no. These are different. See how the plume is finer than most others? And on the head, carved into the metal, see? It’s nearly invisible, but it’s there; the letter ‘P’.”
“’P'? What’s it stand for?”
“I’ll have that back now, fuckers.”
Fupas jerked up and instinctively drew his sword. There was no one there. Marcus stayed where he was, turning the arrow around in his hands. “Still relying on cheap magic tricks to hunt your prey, Panth?” He looked up, smiling with his teeth. “Come on, show us that pretty face.”
FWOOMP! There suddenly stood a female khajiit before them, though she wasn’t exactly what you’d call a vision of beauty with a ‘pretty face’. Unless of course you were off your rocker. There were patches of fur missing from her body, which had clearly been torn out by hand. She had scars from head to toe, and tattoos of bloody kills to cover them. She clutched a silver ring in her left hand. “Now, give it back.” She scowled at them.
“Oh, but if I give it back, how am I going to get you to stick around and talk to me?”
“Go fuck yourself, pond scum. Give it back, or I’ll rip out your teeth and use them to gouge out your eyes.”
“You always had a way with words. Very well, here you are, my lovely.” He held it out, and she snatched it back with lightning speed. “Sure you don’t want to hang around? I packed the makings for smores! We could sit around the burning stump and tell ghost stories!”
“I could wait ’til you’re asleep and slit your throats. Then I could tell your ghost story.”
“I guess I just can’t win with you. I’ll see you later then. Any chance of getting a goodbye smooch?” She struck out with her fist and hit him square in the middle of his face. He laughed, “I’ll take that as a no.”
“Masochistic fuck-face,” she growled, and walked away, slipping the ring on as she went, and instantly vanishing.
When he judged she was out of earshot, Fupas turned to Marcus and said, “She must not have much of an arm. You didn’t even flinch!”
“Actually,” Marcus massaged the scales between his eyes, “she’s got quite a hook. If I had a nose, it would be broken.”
“So… who the hell was that?”
“Her name is Panth, as I said,” he lowered his voice so low that Fupas had to lean in, “and she is a member of the Brotherhood of the Beast.”
“Brotherhood of the Beast?” Fupas laughed loudly.
“Shut up!” There was a rustling in the bushes. “Shit, now she knows that her secret is out. Now she’ll make good on her threat to slit our throats. If not, she’ll report back to her Brothers, and get them all on our tail.”
“So this is serious? This ‘Brotherhood’ is actually a threat?”
“You’d better believe it. Come on.” He dashed off the road, skipping over roots and dodging trees, and not making a sound, Fupas noted.
“Wait! What about… crap, where’d he go?”
Marcus stepped from behind Fupas and whispered into his ear, “Run now, talk later,” making him jump a foot. Obediently he followed Marcus into the woods.
* * *
“Alright, we can stay here.” They had arrived in a clearing, with as level ground as they were going to find. The moon was high and bright, even through the thick cover of the trees. A small fox eyed them suspiciously, before dismissing them as harmless and going back to sleep. “You want to hear about the Brotherhood of the Beast? Pull up a stump and I’ll tell you.”
Fupas rolled a log over and sat down quietly, waiting. At length, Marcus spoke. “You no doubt have heard of the Dark Brotherhood?” Fupas nodded. “Well, at some point, there was a khajiit who was recruited. His name was Leo.” The forest somehow seemed darker now, more sinister, as if to aid Marcus in his depiction of this character. “He was crazy before he joined their ranks, and it is presumed that paying him vast sums of gold to kill people didn’t improve his mental health. However, what really sent him off the deep end was when he began receiving only khajiit contracts.
“Everyone knows that khajiit warriors are some of the fiercest fighters in the land. Rarely will they surrender or run away. They will fight tooth and nail, sometimes literally, right to the end. The Dark Brotherhood’s reasoning was that the best thing to kill a khajiit is another khajiit. Leo, however, interpreted this as a sign that his superiors were trying to eliminate every khajiit alive. He became very paranoid. He stopped talking to everyone around him, except his best friend, Jag, or as he now calls himself, Jag Manslayer. Jag had known Leo since long before their days in the Dark Sanctuary, so he trusted him… enough to begin plotting a revolt.
“The final straw broke when they was spying on their superior. They watched through the crack in the door, horrified, as this man leaned over a strange khajiit they had never seen, and bit into his neck. The mystery khajiit barely moved, only making a low, gurgling moan. His fur went white all at once, yet his age appeared to turn back years, until he was as lean and limber as a twenty-year-old! In a fury of incoherent ranting, Leo, with the help of his friends, slaughtered everyone in the sanctuary, except for the khajiit, out of some strange respect, and the vampire, simply because they couldn’t kill the tough bugger.”
“And you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. You’re not going to give me some lame-ass story aboot you reading this in some book. You were there.”
For the first time in years, Marcus looked like he had been taken off his guard. But he quickly recovered. “Yes, I was there. In the Imperial City, there is a guard captain named Adamus Phillida. He paid me a lot of gold-a lot of gold-to infiltrate the Dark Brotherhood. But you can relax; I just explained what was going on to my targets, and they went into hiding for a long time. Unfortunately, the Brotherhood caught on, and I fled in a hurry. I couldn’t risk going to Phillida to report, so I’ve been staying under the radar for about two years.”
“Oh… okay. So what happened after Leo killed all those killers?”
“Well, the Dark Brotherhood had been wounded like this before. You can’t kill something that big. They were up and running again in no time.”
“No, no, what happened with the khajiit?!”
“Ah. Well, something happened with the bloodsucker. Vicente (that’s the original vampire) lost control of him, and ended up having to terminate him. Sent him on a suicide mission. But I’ll get back to him later. Now to the important part.
“Leo was consumed by his hate for the Dark Brotherhood; Vicente particularly. This malice eventually spread for all ‘human’ races. By that, I mean all races besides the ‘beasts’. ‘Beasts’ being primarily the mightiest of races, khajiit. This philosophy also technically tolerates argonians. They won’t kill fellow beasts unless they get in their way, and they will leave killing a khajiit to the absolute last resort.
“The Beasts are very particular about who they let into their ranks. In fact, they’re not even recruiting anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Well, one of the members, Tiger-”
“Tiger? Panth? Jag? What kind of names are these? It’s like calling an argonian ‘Lizard’!”
“Well, they’re really more like titles. No one knows what their real names are.”
“Alright. So you were saying? Something about Tiger?”
“Yes, thank you. And I’d appreciate no more interruptions. Anyway, Tiger only got in because his father, Tiger Flesh-Ripper, was already a member. Then, sadly, or not, depending on how you look at it, the Flesh-Ripper was taken, by the Dark Brotherhood, no less. Tiger II took his place. Since then no one has gotten in.”
“How many members are there?”
Marcus leaned over and shoved Fupas off the log. “Ahem.”
“Sorry.”
There are currently ten members, though I only know the identities of four; Leo, Tiger, Jag, and you met Panth, who is in fact Leo’s lovely wife.” Fupas looked at him funny. “I know, I know. It would seem insanity attracts more insanity. I suppose you could also say that the mysterious vampire khajiit, only called ‘Fang’, is an extra member; Tiger helps him survive, yet keeps him a secret from the others-how, I have no idea.
Fupas sat silent for a long time, then breathed out a long gust of air. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath for the last minute. “So, that’s it, huh?”
“That’s it.”
“God damn, that’s one hell of a story!”
“Sure is.” He stood up. “Let’s get some firewood. You must be cold.”
“Yeah, I am actually. You too?”
“…Sure.”
* * *
“You’re sure we should have a fire? Won’t Panth find us?”
“She isn’t looking for us. She’s veered off towards Elsweyr. That means she’s gone back to report to the Brotherhood.”
“How do you know that? She’s invisible!”
“I could sense her leave us.” Marcus added a branch to the fire and shifted his weight on the rock on which he was perched.
“What? You sensed her?”
“That’s a conversation for another time. Now go to bed. You’re gonna need the energy tomorrow. I’ll keep watch.”
“Right, okay.” Fupas lay down sleepily. “Wake me when it’s my shift.” He was asleep in seconds.
Chapter Five: Back To Work
“Wow Fupas, you’re a master thief? That’s so sexy!”
“Will you go out with me, Fupas?”
“No, he’s going out with me!”
“I asked first!”
“Make love to me, Fupas!”
“Come on, Fupas.”
“Hey, hey, ladies, why can’t we all…”
“Fupas…”
“Now hold on, let me finish.”
“FUPAS!”
Fupas snorted. “Huh?” Marcus was standing over him, looking impatient.
“I’m not even gonna ask.”
“Why didn’t you wake me for my shift?”
“I don’t sleep-you do.”
The fire had almost gone out, so they just stamped out the few remaining coals. “So, what now? Do we go after the Brotherhood of the Beast, or do we let them come to us?”
Marcus walked ahead in silence for a minute, then said without looking at Fupas, “Let’s do what we set out to do. Rob Skingrad blind.”
“What? What about the people trying to kill us?”
“They’re daring, I’ll give them that. But not enough to follow us into the bowels of a vampire’s castle. They won’t take any risk they can’t think of a way out of in the event that things go sour.”
“Well, that makes me feel a lot better.”
“It shouldn’t. Vampires are very dangerous creatures, and if Hassildor is a powerful one, he already knows we’re coming. And I’m more than certain he is a mountain of power. He cannot do much
outside his walls, as he can’t afford to show his face to his citizens. But inside, he is a god. Nothing happens without his knowledge, or his will. We’d be safer with the guard breathing down our necks. Down there? We may go to our deaths.”
“Oh come on! Give me a little credit. I’ve planned this down to a tee!” Fupas was somewhat relieved to be back in charge again. As fascinating as it had been to witness Marcus’s actions and confidence, and hear his stories, he hated not being the guy with the plan.
“Alright, let’s hear it, boss.”
“Now you’re just sucking up,” Fupas laughed.
“Absolutely. Please continue.”
“Um, yeah. Damn, lost my train of thought… right! Got it. Since this is such a high profile robbery, we don’t want anyone knowing we were anywhere near the castle, even the places we’re allowed in. Therefore, when we enter the great hall, we gas anyone in there with this sleeping potion I concocted.” He pulled out a very fragile looking vial of lime green liquid and held it up proudly. “Industrial strength. We wear hoods and scarves and conceal our tails, not just to shield ourselves from the potion, but also to make sure no one can recall they saw two argonians before they were rendered unconscious.”
“Sounds good so far.”
“Damn straight. After the great hall dwellers are taken care of, I open the secret passageway behind a painting hanging on the wall. I proceed down said passageway, open the door with the intricate magical lock, break into the room housing the magical apparatuses, stuff my pockets, and then get the hell out of there. We meet up at Bloodcrust Cavern. Any questions?”
“Yeah. Why am I hearing so many I’s and hardly any we’s in this plan?”
“Ah, well, you’re job is not to follow me into the magic room. Your job is to create a diversion. The potion won’t last long, and even if it does, the other inhabitants of the castle will realize something is happening. You must go to the other end of the castle, and be as loud and messy as possible. Maybe go to the wine cellar and knock over some racks. But don’t be seen, let alone caught! Think you can manage that?”
“Sure thing, but wouldn’t it be more productive if I helped you carry some of the merchandise? That stuff’s worth a fortune and a half, so the more we can get the better. It won’t be as poorly guarded if we decide to go back for seconds.”
“No, no. It’s worth the sacrifice if the diversion gets us out of there. Just stick to the plan.”
“Fair enough.”
The creak of heavy doors. The scuffling of feet. The smash of bottles. The groans of people quickly losing consciousness. Thud.
“Can we ditch these ridiculous robes now? I feel like I’m taking a trip into the northern mountains!”
“Yeah, alright. Dump ‘em in that corner.” The lizards took a moment to shed the gratuitous amount of coats, robes and burlap sacks from their persons. “You remember the rendezvous point, right?”
“Yep. Now let’s get on with this.”
* * *
“Right, right. Make some noise. Make some noise. Well, here it is.” Marcus stood at the entrance to the wine cellar. It was quite impressive. Sure, he had seen bigger. But as he looked at some of the labels, he realized the Count favored quality over quantity. Then again, did the Count even drink wine? Here there was a row of Surilie Brothers’ vintage 399. And over there, Tamika’s 399 as well. He even glimpsed a bottle of the fabled ‘Shadowbanish’. “Yoink!”
Suddenly he felt a presence nearby. It was coming from inside that giant barrel, over there on the wall. He leaned heavily on the front, pressing his body, and his tail, tightly against it. He lightly drummed his fingertips on the wood. It sounded hollow and empty. He knocked. Tap-tap.
Tap-tap, it answered. He was aware that this could very well be a trap, but now his curiosity was piqued, and he felt giddy. The candelabra. Pull the candelabra, a voice lulled softly in his mind. He walked dreamily around the corner and slowly pulled the bronze holder downward. There was a loud rumbling, and then a long creak, but it was far away to Marcus. He stumbled back to the barrel. There stood a beautiful woman in what was now obviously a doorway. “Hello there, little one.”
In his mind, someone was screaming. “Kill her! Run! Do something!!!” He grunted. “Nonsense,” he thought. She wasn’t a threat. She was just a lovely, beautiful woman, who wouldn’t hurt a fly. Though she was frightfully pale. “Are… are you cold?”
“No, but I am terribly hungry. Why don’t you join me for dinner, in my quarters below? It’s not often I have company. And such handsome company, too. I’ll bet you could have any girl in all of Cyrodiil.”
Believe it or not, argonians do blush. It’s just very hard to see. Marcus was blushing now. He wrung his hands together. “Well, I… I’ve never met anyone as beautiful as you.”
This time the woman blushed, and flashed a shy little smile. It made Marcus’s heart leap. She was so beautiful. And her smile was simply dazzling. Even her teeth were beautiful. And her fangs, they were… fangs. He shook his head, feeling his skull rattle. His senses were clouded, and he felt groggy. He slapped himself as hard as he could muster in his dazed state, and began to get a grip on reality. His eyes opened.
“Sorry, you’re not my type.” He lashed his tail out into a rack of Shadowbanish (such a shame), sending the bottles crashing towards the floor. The rack continued falling, until it collided with another, sending that one toppling into another, and another after that. When the woman looked back, Marcus was gone, but there was the sound of more feet clanking closer.
“Look, a vampire! Kill it!” Three guards charged in, swords drawn. The woman hissed fiercely, and threw herself on one of them, bowling the other two over. “Help! Reinforcements! Vampire! Bring wooden stakes!” One of the guards was trying to pull the vampiress off of his comrade, while the other was stabbing her repeatedly with his sword. She was ignoring both of them, as she tore the flesh of the unfortunate guard’s face off with her fingernails. For his part, her victim screamed like no animal any of them could think of.
Chapter Six: Backed Into A Corner
“It’s all gone to shit… it’s all gone to shit… it’s all gone to shit…” Fupas sat on the floor, clutching his knees to his chest and rocking back and forth. “…it’s all gone to shit… it’s all gone to shit…”
“Fu?”
“…it’s all gone to shit… it’s all gone to shit… it’s all-”
“Fupas! What the hell are you doing?” Fupas looked up at Marcus and blinked. Finally recognition hit him.
“Marcus! Aw shit, thank god you showed up. Hey, why aren’t you distracting people?”
“I think they’ll have their hands full for quite a while. What happened? You made it to the treasure room, so what’s the deal? Why aren’t you stealing shit?”
“Well,” Fu said glumly, and pointed behind Marcus, “I found out what makes the magic door magic.” Marcus whirled around to see where he came in, and saw only a floor-to-ceiling stone wall. “It’s pretty solid. And don’t try using magic, it just put me into that babbling stupor you found me in.”
“That’s okay, I can’t do magic.”
“Really?” Fupas perked up with interest. “Why not? Are you sure you haven’t just been trying too advanced spells for your skill? I mean, come on. Everyone has the capability to do at least some magic.”
“Not me. Every time I’ve tried to cast a spell, I become acutely aware that there’s something I’m missing. Something that you can’t cast spells without.”
“What?”
“I haven’t the foggiest.”
“Well, at any rate, it wouldn’t help if you had it. We could be stuck here for a while. My best guess is that we’ll just have to wait until we’re caught, and someone comes down here. Then we somehow get past them.”
“I suppose that makes the most sense.”
“Yeah.” Fu leaned against the wall. Then he looked thoughtfully at Marcus. “So, how did you sense Panth, back in the forest? You said you’d explain it to me.”
“Okay, since we have some time to kill, it’s time for another story, I guess. You know the small flaps you hear out of on the sides of your head?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, it wasn’t always like that for us. Argonians have evolved to the point of growing those holes in the sides of their heads, which serve as ears. However, our ancestors detected sound differently. They sensed, and even predicted, vibrations in the environment around them, such as sound waves, and more amazing, the movements of objects or people, through glands in their tails.”
“Bullshit. Through their tails? That’s ridiculous!”
“It sounds crazy, but that’s how it worked. God knows why, but hundreds of years ago, maybe thousands, nature chose to rob us of this advantage.”
“Except you.”
Marcus smiled. “Except me. I got lucky with a genetic mutation, apparently.”
“Wow, that’s amazing! Wait…” Fupas looked confused. “What are ’sound waves’?
“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”
“Hey! Over here! Can you help? Any assistance would be appreciated!” Marcus and Fupas looked around until they saw a tall, lanky dark elf in a large cage in the far corner of the room. His hair was a shaggy mess, and he must have not shaved in months. “Please, the Count has kept me locked in this hell-hole for I don’t know how long anymore! He conducts experiments on me, and they’re pure agony! I can’t last much longer.”
Fupas walked closer to the cage, but Marcus stayed back in the shadows. “I don’t see any keyhole here. What’s to stop you from just…” He reached out his hand.
“No! Don’t touch it! It’s covered in extremely powerful magic. One touch would kill you!” Fupas drew back hastily. “There’s a switch over there, by the table. It should lower the spell, though it won’t fully deactivate it. But it should weaken it enough for me to briefly touch it to push the door open.”
“And what will you do then, Aranaal Moordenaar?” Marcus had stepped up to the cage now. “Run away, like you did last time I set you free?”
“My name is Aranaal Coranum.”
“My ass it is. You haven’t been called that in seventy years… not since you murdered your wife.”
“Watch your tongue!” he snarled. “Don’t talk about that like I wanted to do it. I couldn’t stop it.”
“But it felt damn good, didn’t it?” Marcus smiled the haunting smile.
Aranaal hung his head in shame. “It was the most wonderful feeling I’ve ever experienced.”
“Why did you leave me, Aranaal? I never released you from my service. You still owe me your allegiance.”
“I… I wanted to be free. Free from you; free from everyone.”
“And now you are caged. Hassildor-he has you in here because he’s trying to… cure you, isn’t he?”
The word ‘cure’ rang cacophonously in Aranaal’s ears. “Cure? CURE?! I don’t need a cure! There’s nothing to cure! I’m not diseased! This is no curse! It is a gift! It is power!” He gnashed his teeth, and Fupas ducked below the table. “Power he wants for himself, no doubt! He’s the one with the disease! He probably thinks that I can somehow cure him! Bastard!”
My sentiments exactly. So if I release you, we can help each other. You serve me, I serve you. Agreed?”
“Done!”
“Oh, and no killing the Count.”
“You’re pressing your luck, now.”
“We have to travel with you.”
“Do we?” Fupas said meekly. Marcus ignored him.
“Being accompanied by a wanted criminal with the highest profile in Cyrodiil won’t make things easy.”
“Fine. Have it your way. Now get me out of here.” Marcus nodded to Fupas, who reluctantly turned the oversized handle. Neither of them noticed any difference on the bars, but Aranaal seemed convinced. He slammed his shoulder against the door, grunting only slightly as he did so. The door swung wildly, and then flew off its hinges.
“Hold on.” Marcus looked around. “Let’s grab some of this stuff. Do what we risked our lives coming here to do.” They filled every pocket with potions and scrolls; tied as many weapons to their body as they could without losing mobility, and grabbed some random crap that they had no idea what it was.
“Aranaal, could you see to the door, please?”
“Aye-aye, sir.” He winked, then threw his weight against the wall, crashing straight through.
“And, we’re off. Bet that bloodsucking asshole didn’t see this one coming!”
Chapter Seven: Changes
“Can I talk to you for a second?” Fupas pulled Marcus behind a bush.
“Sure thing, Fu. What’s on your mind?”
“HAAAAAA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAA!” Aranaal raced through the trees, spinning around the trunks with wild abandon.
“Oh, take a wild guess!” Fupas frowned in Aranaal’s direction, who was a little preoccupied with spinning around in circles, gazing up at the sky above the forest. “What the hell is he?”
“Well I’m sorry, but I can’t help you there.”
“Bullshit! You know. You know.”
“Of course I know. But I can’t tell you. Ten years ago, he swore an oath to serve and protect me. But in exchange, I swore to protect him, and his secret. I cannot tell a soul.”
“Wait, you said he killed his wife seventy years ago. But he can’t be more than twenty!”
“His gift preserves his age. And I can’t tell you why that is, either.”
“Just whisper it in my ear. He won’t hear you.”
“First of all, his hearing is much better than you realize. Second, if he did find out, nothing would stop him from breaking his end of the bargain and tearing both of us limb from limb. Third and finally, even if he never discovered my violation of the agreement, powerful forces bind us in this blood-agreement. His… gift… empowers him with mystical, long-forgotten magics. Though he cannot control them, they serve him. So as I was saying, even if he never detected my treachery, I wouldn’t escape a horrible fate at their hands.”
“Cripes… so you really can’t tell me anything?”
“If it’s any consolation, you’ll probably find out on your own… well, tonight in fact!”
“Why? Is night time special?”
“This one is.”
* * *
It must have been around midnight when Fupas was awoken by a noise in the woods. The fire had long since gone out, but he could see Marcus anyway, crouched behind a fallen tree, bathed in the light of the full moon. There came a whistling noise, faint at first, but which rapidly grew louder.
Marcus shot out his hand just in time to catch an arrow, inches from Fupas’s eye. “Shit!” Fupas yelped.
“Panth is back.” Marcus turned lazily to his stunned companion. “And she brought three Brothers with her.”
“Indeed,” came a gravelly voice from the shadows. “And now we shall snuff out your pathetic existences once and for all.”
“Leo, you know I could easily slip away from you before you could say ‘khajiit supremacy’. I’ve done it before, I can do it again.”
“Oh? And what do you think about this other lizard here?” The four felines stepped into the clearing in unison. Leo was incredibly tall, Fupas thought in awe. He towered above everyone else.
“I think my friend would kill you all before you could lift your weapons.”
“Really?” Leo sneered. “His weapon is here by my feet; he lies there, defenseless.”
“Actually…” Marcus glanced into the shadows behind himself. “I wasn’t talking about that friend.” Two red eyes glared menacingly at the quartet, and a long, low, rumbling growl was heard. They all began trembling, and dropped their weapons. One of the other males fell to his knees. Another burst into tears. Leo and Panth stood their ground, but they were paralyzed. “You can come out now, Aranaal.” Slowly, the biggest mother-fucking wolf Fupas had ever seen entered the clearing. It must have been bigger than a grizzly bear, and it stood on its hind legs, albeit hunched over slightly. “Meet my other friend, Aranaal.” Aranaal licked his chops. “Now that I can say what he is, since you’ve seen his secret for yourself, Fupas, I’ll tell you right now. Aranaal is a werewolf.”
“What the hell is a werewolf?”
“I thought it was obvious. That,” Marcus gestured at Aranaal, “is a werewolf. Though I suppose werewolves aren’t indigenous to Cyrodiil, so you wouldn’t know. He transforms into this every night of the full moon, and not to mention retains certain powerful advantages, even in human form.”
“I should be terrified. Why am I not wetting myself?”
“Well, mostly because unlike other races, argonians don’t lose control of their bladders when they experience fear. But I suppose it is also because of the powerful magics surrounding the werewolf. He has the ability to reduce the bravest of heros to a six year old girl, or not, at will.”
“And how are you controlling him so he doesn’t do that to us?”
Marcus chuckled, “I’m not.” He heard Fupas gulp from across the campsite. Aranaal made what might have been a snicker. “Relax, I didn’t say he was free to tear us to pieces and feast on our entrails. He’s bound by the same magic that holds me to the deal. If he goes back on his word, his own spells will turn on him. Now…” he sauntered over to Leo and looked him right in the eye. Leo cringed. “How about, instead of sneaking up on us, and killing us whilst…” he glanced at Fupas. “…one of us sleeps, we all sit down together and talk like mature adults? Eh?” Leo just shivered, and Marcus sighed. “Aranaal, if you please?”
Leo lurched forward slightly, as if he had been shaken awake. “Fine. Talk. Right. We can talk.”
“Glad to hear it. Aranaal, I think they’ve learned their lesson. Release them.” The other three shook themselves as if shaking water from their coats.
“And what, pray tell, are we going to talk about?” spoke up one of the khajiit to Leo’s side.
“Tiger, I presume?”
“Lieutenant General Tiger, thank you.”
“My apologies, Lieutenant General Tiger. And you’re Lieutenant General Jag?”
“Brigadier General.”
“Fuckin’ hell, how am I supposed to remember all these Generals? And you, Panth? What are you?”
“I don’t answer to you, you piece of shit.”
“Fair enough. Anyway, I want to work out a deal. You let the three of us live, we help rally your cause.”
“What?!” whispered Fupas.
“Shut up if you wish to live,” Marcus shot back.
“We’re not recruiting,” growled Jag.
“Well, maybe you should be. You’ll never eliminate the entire human population with ten people.
“Quality over quantity, lizard.”
“Oh, no doubt. But at the rate the human races reproduce, you’ll be hard pressed to keep up, expert assassins or not.”
Leo sat still for a while, turning Marcus’s words over in his mind, before answering, “I suppose you-”
“Shh!” Marcus’s tail flicked. Aranaal sniffed something in the air, then slowly licked his lips, eyes half closed. The khajiit’s ears twitched.
“What is it?” Fupas asked uncertainly.
Marcus’s tail was slowly drifting back and forth. “Imperial legionnaire. He’s been listening for quite a while. Aranaal.” Fupas nodded. The beast cackled wildly, and then leaped into a tree with barely a sound. A minute went by, then another.
Panth stirred. “What’s taking him so long,” she demanded impatiently.
CRASH! The legionnaire was flung across the campsite, and slammed into a tree. He was a little jarred, but he managed to get to his feet quickly enough. “I swear, I won’t tell anyone what I heard,” he pleaded. “I don’t care if he’s a wolf, or you kill people, or if you’re creatures from Oblivion, here to terrorize the world, I won’t tell anyone!”
“Whaddya think, lads?” Leo smiled wryly. Khajiit too had a smile that’d make you shit your pants, and he was wearing it proudly.
“Stick the Imperial pig!” screamed Panth shrilly. She flew forward with superhuman-or rather, superfeline-speed, but the legionnaire was ready for her.
“I may be outnumbered, but that doesn’t mean I’ll go down easy! Do your worst!” The ring of cats closed in around him, but he managed to back himself among a tight cluster of trees, effectively bottlenecking the onslaught to just him and Panth. She darted in with her kris, swiping madly, but her opponent either dodged, parried or blocked with his shield every attack. Tiger moved in behind the trees and shoved his spear between the trunks, forcing the guard from his cover.
Leo chose this time to lunge in with his hefty battle axe, and he swung it straight into the legionnaire’s chest. The cuirass crumpled inwards, crushing his breastbone as it went. He gasped for air and stumbled backwards. Suddenly everyone (except the legionnaire) realized Marcus was standing behind him. He pulled out a knife, looped one arm under the legionnaire’s armpits, and with the other hand tore open the guard’s throat.
“Shhhhhh… that’s it, nice and easy. Theeeere we go. Sleep now.” He gently lowered the still twitching body to the ground. He looked around at the others and said, “Well, that was exciting.”
“Kill steal,” muttered Jag. They all burst out laughing; all except Fupas. Marcus noticed this, walked over to him and sat down.
“What’s eatin’ ya, Fu?”
“You were never hired by any guard captain,” Fupas said quietly. “You never spared your contracts. You really were a cold-blooded killer, and you still are.”
“…That’s right.” He lowered his voice so the cats couldn’t hear him. “Though I told you the truth when I said I fled the Dark Brotherhood. I broke a tenant, and now they’re out to get me. I’m done with them, you have my word. If you wish to stay with me, I’ll be glad.” Fupas gave him a wary glare. “However, if you wish to leave, then I’ll let you go without a fuss. I respect you too much to kill you. You can take all the loot,” Marcus emptied his pockets onto the ground in front of Fupas, “and return to the Thieves’ Guild. But if you breathe a word to anyone about me, or what I’ve done, I promise, you will be seeing me again. And if not me, it will be Aranaal.” His eyes narrowed. “And neither will be a very friendly visit.” Fupas stared at him for an eternity. “So, what’ll it be?”
Fupas stood up. He glanced at the loot, shook his head, and walked away. When he was gone, Aranaal growled, “Want me to crunch his spine between my teeth?”
“No. He won’t talk.”
“You put too much trust in him.”
“What can I say? He’s a good kid. I like him.”
“Exactly. Your judgement is clouded.”
“I agree,” Panth spoke up. “He knows too much, and he will talk. You just want to believe he won’t.”
“Kill him,” Leo said authoritatively.
“Kill him,” agreed Tiger.
“Kill that mother-fucker!” shouted Jag.
“No! None of us are going to kill him.”
“Fine,” said Aranaal shortly, “Just don’t blame me when this comes back to bite you in the ass. Oh, and if he shares my secret, I’ll be the one doing the biting. Keep that in mind.”
“Noted, thank you.”
“So, where is he?” Marcus had walked up to Tiger after the cat had gone to scout around. “I know he’s out there somewhere, watching us.”
“Who would that be?” Tiger asked innocently.
“Fang. Who else?”
“I have no idea what you’re on about. I warn you, lizard, I don’t like mind games.”
“Then why are you playing one? Come on. We both know you have your little vampire spy skulking on the outskirts, watching and listening. Now, if you don’t fess up, I’ll tell your buddies what you’ve been keeping from them.”
Tiger sneered. “And who are they going to believe? Some punk lizard who’s been nothing but trouble, or me, a longtime respected member of our ranks?”
Marcus pointed to the sky. “See that? The sun’s nearly up. Once dawn breaks, your friend is powerless, and will no longer be able to hid his scent from Aranaal. And we all know what happens then.”
“Look,” Tiger said, a little panicked now, “I’ll admit that he’s out there, watching us. But I can’t afford to tell you where he is. You have your wolf friend there to protect you. Let me have my insurance policy.”
“Fair play. I’ll tell Aranaal to ignore him once he catches his scent.”
“Much appreciated.”
“So tell me. What’s the story behind him?”
“What?
“I’ve heard things. Like, nobody knows where he came from, or what he did before the Dark Brotherhood found him. Surely you must know.”
“…How do you know so much about us? Who are you?”
Marcus sighed. “You really don’t remember me? Think, Tiger. Think back to the revolt. There were three survivors, remember?”
Oh… you. You’re the one that can’t be killed, or so they say. The one that’s supposedly been alive for-”
“Hey!” Leo called. What the hell are you two doing?”
“Another time, perhaps,” Fupas said quietly, “I still want to hear about Fang.”
“Come on, we’re moving out,” Leo shouted again.
“We?” Marcus asked with interest.
“You obviously know more about us than any other outsider. We can’t afford to let you just roam the land by yourself.”
“So, does this mean I get to be a member of the Brotherhood? I’m not one for being babysat.”
“We’ll see…” Leo rolled his eyes. “If you’re a good boy and go to bed on time.”
Chapter Eight: A Less Forgiving Family
“I must admit, Leo, this place puts the Cheydinhal sanctuary to shame. I’m impressed!”
“Ah, yes. Tiger told me about your involvement with the Enemy. To be honest, I can’t comprehend why I didn’t remember you being there.”
“Perhaps unseen forces chose to protect me until today. Are you going to kill me now?”
“…No. I think you could prove useful.”
“Groovy.” They walked through the lushly decorated halls of the Brotherhood’s underground citadel.
“These were once the halls of the great Count Sha’lid Hraskar, one of the noblest khajiit to ever live.”
“What happened to him?”
“Well, years ago he began aiding us in our crusade. He even joined us. Then one day, he was struck down by the Dark Brotherhood.”
“So it was Tiger Senior, then.”
“You certainly know our history well. After that, the current Tiger inherited the estate, the fortune, the rank and the title. As you can see, we are well stocked, and aren’t going to be shorthanded any time soon. We don’t need to pay for servants, as our members take shifts with service, maintenance and anything else that comes up.”
“What? It must be two miles deep!”
“That’s a pretty good guess, actually, but you’re off by a few yards.”
“But you can’t maintain something that big! You only have ten men!”
“That’s… not entirely accurate. We like to make people think we’re weak, not a threat. But in reality we’re more than two hundred strong.
“Now I’m really impressed.” They walked further and deeper, Leo giving him a tour of the armory, the training room, the barracks, dining halls, the smithy, and so on.
“And that’s enough for now. You don’t need to see the deepest part today.”
“God, how do you stand walking from end to end here?”
“We have set up magical teleportation rings. They get us from one spot to any other in seconds.”
“Ah, crap, I was afraid of that.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Basic magic doesn’t work on me. Only the most powerful magic, such as the magic that enforces my blood-agreement with Aranaal, can touch me. Useful when someone tries to curse or burn me, but in this case it looks like I’ll be getting a lot of exercise.”
“Heh heh, sucks to be you.”
Marcus hrumphed, then glanced at a small hole in the wall to his left. “What’s in there?”
Leo looked where Marcus was pointing. “That? Bad news. We don’t go down there. Tiger once ventured down. It goes pretty deep apparently. He came out and said it had evil curse written all over it. Since then we’ve left it well alone. We don’t bother it, and it doesn’t bother us.”
“…I know when someone is lying or leaving something out, and you’re doing it now. I think we both know what’s down there. Fang.”
Leo started. “You really know our history. Yes, I know about him. Tiger thinks he’s secret, but there’s no way I couldn’t know. I’m the one who created him!”
“Created? You mean he’s not real or something?”
“No, he’s very real. A long time ago, before my dealings with the Enemy, I was friends with Tiger-back then called something else, which I will not tell you. He was a very confused, and confusing, person. His soul was stretched in two opposite directions. He always contradicted himself, doing something one day, and going back on it the next. He seemed sick. I scoured every book of known diseases I came across, but none helped. Then I delved into magic. In that I discovered that Tiger’s soul wasn’t twisted; he simply had two! Two souls, fighting for dominance in one body. It was tearing him apart!
“I soon found a spell to separate them. I performed the ceremony without his knowledge-he wasn’t actually required to be present-and succeeded in separating them. Tiger couldn’t tell, but he was completely changed. The second soul, unfortunately, left him and fled, floating unseen into the unknown.
“My guess is that the so-called Fang found his way into the first corpse he came across. I’m not sure it even needed to be a khajiit, but it was a khajiit, nonetheless. I rediscovered him in the clutches of that vampire, Valtieri. I knew him from the moment I caught the slightest of glimpse of him, hiding in Vicente’s quarters. Something about the spell made me very connected to both Tiger and Fang. I know where both of them are, all the time. At the time I was both angry and worried, but I reasoned that if I could join the Dark Brotherhood, so could he. Hell, I had encouraged Jag and Tiger to join with me. But when Valtieri sunk his fangs into him… well you know the rest, don’t you?”
“Indeed. Thanks Leo.”
“That’s General, to you.”
“Just General?”
“I’ll warn you once: don’t be a smartass to your superiors. Any of them. You’re given an order, you obey without question. Is that understood, Private?”
“So I’m in?”
“That’s right. Now answer the damn question. Is that understood, Private?”
“Yes, sir,” Marcus returned, saluting stiffly. He was thoroughly sobered.
“Well, get to work. Report to Panth for duties. Dismissed.” Leo marched off, clearly enjoying bossing someone around.
When he was a safe distance away, Marcus muttered, “Jackoff.”
Chapter Nine: A Lesson Or Two
“Alright, shithead, I’ve seen you fight, and I’m not impressed.” Panth said shortly. Despite wanting to have her chance at making Marcus do anything degrading and hard, she wasn’t pleased with getting dumped with the responsibility of babysitting him. And he was going to feel it. “You rely on stealth to deliver a killing blow, but you won’t always be able to slip into the shadows. Especially when there aren’t any.”
“Of course I can,” Marcus said, mocking injury. “I’ve been doing it all my life.”
“No, no! You can’t disappear, say, in this room. This is the most brightly lit room in our fortress. There’s no cover. You have nowhere to hide!”
“You sure about that?” said the disembodied voice of Marcus. Panth whirled around, looking this way and that, quite alarmed.
“Oh, I get it. You’re using magic.”
“Nope.” Marcus was once again in front of her. “I simply predict where you’re going to look next, and I get out of that space.”
“But you were right in front of me, and then you vanished!”
“I waited for you to blink. No-one can go without blinking, and as soon as you start, I leave your peripheral vision. It’s rather simple after that.” Panth was now fascinated, her contempt forgotten.
“Can you teach me to do this? Even with magic to make me vanish, my enemies can still hear me, and if they look carefully enough, they can see me.”
“Technically you can learn this, but without the right physical components,” he wagged his tail demonstratively, “it would take years of instruction, discipline and practice.
“I don’t care. I must learn to become completely undetectable, as you so easily can.”
“Alright, but I have a price.”
“Name it!”
“I want you to make things more agreeable for Aranaal and me. A room for us. Aranaal shouldn’t be treated like the dog who has to sleep outside, and it should be better than that pigsty I’ve been staying in; good food (lots of meat for him, fine wine for myself); and the respect of the people. I’m sick of being the dirtbag disturber of the peace around here.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Sargent Lieutenant Captain Commander General Whatever Tiger stood in front of Marcus, leaning over him. Why is everyone here taller than me? Marcus wondered bitterly. For fuck’s sake, even Panth dwarfs me! He was beginning to feel like a child in these halls. And the fact that Tiger had no shirt on made him feel even more inferior for some reason. Like his leather armour was a sign that he was ashamed to show his scales. Maybe he was.
“So, Private, Colonel Panth tells me you rely on stealth to do your fighting. She also says that you can remain undetected, no matter what. Would you say this is accurate?”
“Yes Sir, I would.”
“So have you ever been hit?”
“Not since I can remember, Sir.”
“Well then you don’t know how to deal with pain, do you?”
Marcus shifted uneasily. He could see where this was going. “No Sir, I suppose I don’t.”
In the blink of an eye Tiger lashed out with his fist, and Marcus just barely managed to spin to the side in time. “Come on, soldier! How can you learn about pain if you keep avoiding it?” Marcus grimaced. He repositioned in front of his commanding officer, braced himself, and nodded.
THWACK! Tiger’s fist connected with Marcus’s stomach and sent him flying backwards. He crashed into a wooden table, cracking it in half. After about a minute, as the dust settled, he hauled himself clear of the wreckage. “Now that,” he croaked, “is precisely why I avoid getting hit!” He went into a spasm of coughs and splutters. Tiger burst out laughing. Marcus eventually picked himself up and limped back over to stand in front of Tiger, who hadn’t yet come down from his fit of hysterics. “Sir, how about we call that one ‘lesson learned’?”
“Ha ha, not on your life! You can experience pain, but it’s clear you can’t deal with it. But we’ll come back to that one. Now I want you to do something else.”
“What?”
“I want you to hit me as hard as you can.”
“…That was a little cheesy, don’t you think?”
“Whaddya mean?”
“Forget it. Hit you. Got it.” Marcus breathed slowly until he was no longer wheezing. He backed up a few paces, clenched his hand tightly into a fist, and pulled back. He carefully surveyed Tiger’s chest and stomach, looking for the weakest point. It certainly showed how much Tiger worked out. He looked absolutely-
“Enjoying the view?” Tiger smirked. Marcus shook his head to clear his mind.
Just fucking hit him, stop checking him out! “HeeeeYAH!” He struck Tiger in the gut with what he was sure must have been incredible force. Tiger didn’t move, though he did burp quietly. “Oh come the fuck on!”
“Well, that was better than I expected. You’ve got potential.”
“Great.” Marcus rolled his eyes. “Hit me again.”
“No, you hit me,” Tiger laughed.
They sparred for a long time, until Marcus emerged, bruised and battered, three hours later. He went to his new room, courtesy of Panth, and collapsed on the bed. He winced as he fell too hard. At least Tiger had been panting slightly by the end. That must’ve been a good sign.
“Long day at school, honey?” Aranaal jibed humourously. He had shed all his fur by now, but enough people had seen his better half to know he was far from human.
“Fuck off, smart-ass.”
“You gonna have a sleep?”
“I don-”
“Right, right, you don’t sleep. I forgot. Freak.”
Marcus turned over, slowly. He stared at his companion.
“Joke. Ha ha?”
“Ha. Ha.” He turned his face into the pillow. It was soft, and felt nice. He may not ever sleep, but he felt like he could pass out at any second, all the same. He shut his eyes and lay motionless for a long time, imagining how nice it must be to sleep.
Chapter Ten: Haunting Past
“Traitor… betrayer… liar!” He opened his eyes and and listened carefully, his tail vibrating so subtly that not even Aranaal’s heightened senses would be able to detect it. But Aranaal wasn’t here. And someone else was. Someone he knew he had never met before, yet who seemed so familiar. He sat bolt upright, his bruises forgotten. He reached for his dagger, but it was gone. “Looking for this?” A dark elf in a set of black leather and matching black hood emerged from the shadows in the far corner. He lay Marcus’s dagger on the floor.
“Bah! Lowly Murderer! I haven’t betrayed my Family!”
“Right. And that’s why you’ve helped, trained with and slept in the fortress of our sworn enemy.”
“Look, I just got a little side-tracked. You can tell Ocheeva I’ll be back on schedule in a few days. Just give me more time!”
“More time for what? More time to tell them all our secrets? To help them plan the destruction of our noble order?”
“I swear on the Night Mother, I am still loyal to the Dark Brotherhood!” The Murderer’s cold eyes softened.
“Okay, I think I believe you. When can we expect you to finish your contract, and return to the sanctuary?”
Suddenly the doors were flung open, and Tiger led Leo in. “Marcus I was just telling Leo here how well you did for your first practi-” Everyone was frozen for a moment, and in the next steel was drawn. Marcus, realizing how bad this looked, immediately lost it. He rushed up to the Murderer and rammed his fist into his nose. Before the elf had hit the ground Marcus stole his dagger from his hand and drove it straight through his throat. Once more everyone was frozen, until the thud of the elf hitting the floor broke the spell. The elf’s eyes looked up at Marcus in shock, and he looked like his feelings were hurt more than his throat. With a gurgle and a squirt, the eyes went blank and the elf stopped wriggling.
“Good job, Marcus!” Leo slapped him on the back. “If they’re sending assassins after you, you must be on our side!”
“Yeah,” Marcus laughed, “it was (shit shit shit) nothing. Really, I could (what have I done) handle it. I hope they (they’ll kill me for sure now) send ten more! I’ll kill (tenet five never kill a dark brother) them all! Long live the (to do so is to invoke the wrath of sithis) Brotherhood of the Beast!”
* * *
After the commotion petered out, and the blood was washed away, everyone went to bed. Marcus couldn’t figure out how everyone knew it was nighttime, but he had to admit he was tired as well. And for the first time since he could ever remember, he slept.
He dreamt of wonderful, joyous things; he was eating a sumptuous banquet, with old friends and Family around him. Then he was flying over green land and beautifully blue sea. But then something happened. He began falling from the sky. He plummeted faster and faster, and soon saw jagged rocks approaching as he drew nearer to the cliffs. He put out his hands in front of him, and there was a flash. He landed in his bed with a bounce. He was sweating profusely, which was strange considering argonians don’t sweat. It was all over his body. It was actually thicker than sweat, and as it dribbled past his lips he thought it had a familiar metallic taste. Then it dawned on him; he was drenched head to toe in blood! He wanted to throw up. He tried to roll over, but found he couldn’t move.
The door to his room opened. He wanted to call out to Leo as he came in, to ask him for help, but he then discovered he couldn’t talk either. But worse still, it wasn’t Leo. A large man (or was it a man?), as tall as an ogre (maybe taller) entered. He wore a long, flowing cloak, and he was shrouded in shadow. As he approached he began hissing. Not like a snake, no, more like a wet log, just before it catches on… FIRE! He suddenly burst into flames, yet his face was still hidden in shadow.
“Marcus?” Aranaal had risen from his bed. “Marcus, “I smell blood!” The flaming man drew an enormous broadsword. Tongues of fire swept down the blade, engulfing it in red flames, for now the fire had turned the color of blood. Aranaal spoke some incantation and the lantern in the ceiling came to life. Marcus couldn’t understand why Aranaal needed more light. There was a demonic beacon in the middle of the room!
The man of flames took the handle in both hands and slowly raised it above Marcus’s chest. “Fucking hell, Marcus!” He ran to the door. Marcus wished he could beg him not to leave him. “Medic! Healer! SOMEBODY! HELP!” He ran back into the room and took Marcus by the hand. “Can you speak?” Marcus opened and closed his mouth futilely. He pointed with his eyes up above him, at the burning demon and his sword. Aranaal looked up quickly. He swept his hand through the demon, who took about as much notice as Aranaal did. “There’s nothing there, Marcus.”
The demon plunged his sword down, straight through Marcus’s ribcage. Marcus screamed silently, and finally managed to move, which quickly escalated to thrashing around. He closed his eyes, but he could still see him, his invisible features leering down at him. His sword was burning him alive, his entire body, from the inside-out. He suddenly found his voice, and screeched and wailed for all he was worth. That didn’t last long though, as he ran out of breath, and his lungs filled up with blood and ash. Eventually the demon removed his blade, and sheathed it. Marcus was going into shock when he got to the door, but he could still tell what the demon had said with that blank stare. Don’t fuck with me again. He nodded meaningfully at Marcus, and then he was gone.
“God damn it, I need all the healers we can get!” Khajiit were filing into the room. They brought a stretcher with them, and the bravest ones actually lifted Marcus onto it. They carried him away to another part of the fortress, and then everyone went back to sleep.
* * *
“…And they all lived happily ever after. The end.” Marcus slowly opened his eyes. He was in bed, in a very clean part of the living quarters. He was wearing different clothes, and he had no idea what day it was. “Holy shit, you’re awake!” Aranaal stood up gleefully. “Good thing, too. That was the last storybook they had.”
“Oh… don’t tell me you’ve been reading me stories while I was out.”
“Hey, I just figured you might actually hear me if I just kept talking. I never gave up on you, you know. Unlike the cats. They gave up once you stopped talking.”
“I was talking?”
“Well, like a parrot talks, I guess. You just said the same thing, over and over again: ‘I saw him. I saw him. I saw him.’ Creeped me out, man. But you stopped after ten days. For the last twenty you’ve been silent as the grave.”
“I’ve been out thirty days?!”
“Yeah… so do you know who you saw?”
“I have a pretty good idea. I may never had seen him before, but I knew. You’d know too if you’d worked for him for a couple hundred years. You’d know Sithis when you saw him.”
“Wow, Sithis, eh? I thought you Dark wackos always kept him in vague terms. Y’know, ‘He is darkness’, ‘He is the realization before the gasp before the scream before death blah blah blah… it was enough to convince anyone He didn’t exist!”
“Yeah, well, maybe that’s the way He wanted it. The best way to stay on the winning side is to convince your foes you’re not enough of a threat to bother with. Sithis doesn’t need a war to appease Him; he wants us to pick people off like flies, controlled and subtle. The Dark Brotherhood has always been about control, control of Cyrodiil, and control of its members. And now, after two hundred fifty six years, I want nothing to do with them, ever again.”
“Heh, I give you a week before you go crawling back to them, begging for forgiveness.”
“I greatly appreciate the faith you put in me.”
“Don’t mention it. So, what do we do now, boss?” He lay stretched out leisurely on the foot of the bed, rubbing up against Marcus’s ankles.
“Umm… what the hell are you doing?”
“Oh! Sorry.” He stood up abruptly. “Canine instincts. I am man’s best friend.” Marcus gave him the ‘you’ve got to be joking’ stare. “Well, sorta.”
“Well, doggie, I’m not man; I’m lizard! And that isn’t canine affection; it’s weird and it’s wrong!”
“Alright! No more cuddling, I get it! Jeez, you try to show someone your sensitive side, and they throw it in your face!” He went over to the bed opposite Marcus’s and sat down sulkily.
“It’s wrong!”
“Yeah, whatever… so, what are we going to do now, boss?”
“Well, I guess it’s months of brutal training. But after dealing with your worst nightmare multiplied tenfold, I think I can stand being roughed up a bit. How ’bout you? Will you die of boredom?”
“Actually, I’ve become quite respected around here. They let me play with their kids, which is great fun. Though I can’t tell if it’s a sign of trust or patronization. Honestly, I couldn’t care less. The imaginations these kids have. Not to mention the twisted upbringings they’ve had so far. Imagine Leo and Panth having a kid. Well I’ve met her! She really takes after her mother. They must have surgically removed her marbles at birth, cause I don’t think she’s ever had any to lose since then. Ahh, good times, I tell ya.”
“Wow, Aranaal. You’ve gone soft.”
“Nah, I just like kids. Especially ones who love to hear that story about when I tore the throats out of every human in that hunting party.”
“Yeah, that must be a real crowd pleaser.”
“Actually, I have found other kids who like my tales of blood, gore and graphic violence. But in this case the parents don’t freak out. They’re as entertained as the littluns!”
“Sounds like you’ve found a place called home. Tell you what, I’ll be right back, just need to ask Leo about something.”
“Go right ahead.”
* * *
“Leo, I need to take some time off to do something.” Leo looked him up and down, noting he was once again decked out in leather.
“What?”
“I have an enemy out there that needs to be dealt with. I promise I’ll be back within the week.”
“Who is this enemy?”
Marcus sighed. “Fupas. I’ve rethought what you said, and I’ve realized you were right. He’s a threat, and he needs to be taken care of. I know where he’s going to be, and I know how I’m going to take him down.”
Leo paused a long time, and Marcus held his breath. “Alright. But you’re back within the week. I’ll hold you to that.”
“Understood, Sir.” After Leo had left he breathed a sigh of relief. It was close enough to the truth, anyway.
Marcus was just nearing the front door, after half a god damn mile of hallways, when he heard a voice.
“I’m going with you,” Aranaal said as he stepped from around a corner.
“No, not this time.”
“Bullshit. I swore to protect you, not take orders from you. Besides,” he gazed wistfully out the door. “I’ve been shut up indoors for a month. I need to go out and stretch my legs, if you catch my drift.” He swung his head back towards Marcus. “And I’ve been eager to meet that Fupas again.”
“I’m not going to kill Fupas.”
“But you told Leo-”
“I lied!”
“…Why are you still loyal to them? They sent an assassin after you, and then you killed him. You said yourself you want nothing to do with them!”
“Yeah… but I’ve never left a contract unfinished.”
“God. Let me come with you already! I’ll just watch over you. Keep you safe. It is my duty, after all.”
“Fine, but you don’t interfere.”
“Fine. Got it. Whatever. Let’s go!”
* * *
Sneaking into the hideout was simple. The Grey Fox couldn’t afford to make a copy of the key for everyone, so the moron just left the place unlocked all day long! It was almost too easy…
Aranaal had been acting oddly. When Marcus had told him to pull back and wait across the lake, Aranaal had given him a most peculiar look. Like he had forgotten what he was doing there.
He had of course cased the joint first. That had been a problem, as he had never seen his target enter or exit. But he must go in there, nonetheless. Why the hell wouldn’t he? The abandoned house had been a safe-house for thieves since the building of the Imperial City! Though that felt strange; like a jigsaw forced into a shape to fit the wrong space. But that wasn’t relevant. What was relevant was the target.
Now he was in. This was clearly a basement, dimly lit by a few candles. He spotted some stairs and climbed them to another door. He put his tail to it, and focused. There was one person in the room. He couldn’t tell if it was the target or not, but it was now or never. He quietly pushed the door open.
The person was an argonian. Marcus knew him immediately, even from the back. He immediately forgot himself. “Fupas!” Fupas didn’t turn around.
“Is that you, Marcus?” he said airily, and somewhat smugly. “Did you come here looking for me?” He slowly turned around, revealing what was in his hand. He held up the Grey Cowl of Nocturnal triumphantly, paused for dramatic effect, then smiled and said, “Or him?”
“What is this? You’re the Grey Fox, now?” He had told Leo the truth without knowing it himself. Fupas really was the enemy!
“Actually, no. You are. You see, there is a nasty curse on this cowl. Or there was, anyway. The Cowl went to me, but the curse went to you. At first the previous Grey Fox and I meant to get rid of the curse. But then, not only did a handy artifact called ‘Savilla’s Stone’ show us that it wasn’t possible-no mortal can lift Nocturnal’s curse-but we also learned of your little assassination plot against him. So, instead of lifting the curse, we simply… relocated it. Now your name is stricken from the history books. No one will know you when they see you. The only people who know your former identity are you and I. And the only way to identify yourself as anyone-though not your former identity-will be to don the Cowl. Of course, you won’t have the Cowl; I will.”
“Then you’re the Grey Fox!”
“Nope. Technically, I can’t be. It’s impossible. The Grey Fox is characterized by the fact that he may only have one identity. That being the Grey Fox. Considering that I remain Fupas, I can’t be the Grey Fox. I am really just an imposter. After that, there’s just some basic magic that makes everyone think I am, whenever I put on the Cowl.”
“Rrrrrr… bastard! I’ll kill you anyway!”
With lightning speed, Fupas whipped the Cowl onto his head. “Help! Guildmates! Assassin!” Instantly Armand, Amusei and a few redguards Marcus didn’t recognize burst through the door and had their hands on him.
“Gentleman, disarm him.” He was stripped of his weapons, which were unceremoniously dropped to the floor. ‘Hold on,” Fupas stopped them when they removed an elegant ebony blade. “This is a nice dagger.” He turned it over carefully in his hands. “I’ll let you keep that one. I trust you’ll put it to good use.” He slipped it back into its scabbard. “Now, I think this man has some business to attend to.”
“And what would that be?” Marcus scowled at him.
Fupas smiled. “What was it again? Ah, yes. ‘Tenet 3: Never disobey or refuse to carry out an order from a Dark Brotherhood superior. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis.’” Marcus stiffened. “Now run along and finish your contract like a good boy.”
* * *
It was raining like there was no tomorrow. Normally Marcus didn’t mind any kind of weather; blistering heat; blinding snow; soaking rain; but now it was incredibly taxing. His nerves were shot, he was heavily depressed, and he just wanted to scream and scream (even though the sound of an argonian scream was rather ridiculous). He needed shelter, if only to collect his thoughts, and settle his nerves. Wait. What was that? A cave! That would do.
He ducked in through the entrance. A bit damp, and it smelled heavily of mould, but it would do. He sat down and performed some breathing exercises he had learned… somewhere. He couldn’t remember. It seemed like ages ago. He was soon clear-minded. He realized Fupas was right—he had to do it. There was no point in being scared about it. He only needed to do what he was trained to do.
“All that’s left to do is leave my final farewell to this world.” He got out the quill and parchment he had swiped from the Thieves’ Guild headquarters (heh heh), and began to write.
Chapter Eleven: The End Is Imminent
I don’t know if anyone will ever find this, but I don’t care. Whether people read this journal or not does not change what happened… what’s about to happen… what has to happen.
My name was Laskiir Marcuska. Most folks just called me Marcus. Not very memorable, is it? No tales will be told of my exploits. Yet once I was a feared and respected Silencer for the Brotherhood. You know which brotherhood I’m talking about. Now I’m a nobody. The life I once treasured has slipped through my fingers like sand through a sieve.
Too much lately, I’ve been asking myself, ‘Where the hell did I go wrong?’ That no good, dirty, rotten son of a bitch, Fupas! That’s where! I curse the day I met him, and that I didn’t run him through when I had the chance! I trusted him. I TRUSTED HIM! And just look where that got me; alone, forgotten, and most importantly, about to die in some god forsaken cave.
Oh, sod it. That’s enough writing. Alright then, so be it. How ironic; I always thought this dagger Lucien gave me was too small to be of any use. Well, it is a virgin blade, no more. Heh heh, Woe is me. Here we go, right through my black heart. I’m coming, Death. Into the Void.
One… two… three…
Last Chapter: Old Habits Aren’t The Only Things That Die Hard
Marcus hesitated a second longer , then plunged the dagger into his chest, burying it to the hilt.
“Shhiiiii–” he gasped. He couldn’t breathe, blood was rushing out his mouth as he coughed it up in torrents, and the world was quickly slipping into darkness. Though not quickly enough for his liking.
But then something happened. He felt lighter. The pain was gone; not numb, no, completely gone! He stood up.
“Hm… I’m not dying… Should I be relieved… or worried?”
“Do you always talk to yourself?” Marcus whirled around, to find himself staring up at a very, very close up dragon. “I mean, what is that? Are you like, narrating your life or something?”
“Uh… umm… huh?”
“Speechless, eh? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Do you remember me?”
“No. Now I’m s-s-sorry, but would you mind telling me what the fuck are you, and what the f-f-fuck is going on?”
“Tch tch tch, such language. You really should watch what you say to a Daedric lord.”
“What?! Daedric lord?”
“Oh yes. Peryite, prince of Oblivion, at your service. No, scratch that. You should be at my service.” Marcus stared, dumbstruck. “Poor little mortal. You really don’t remember, do you? I suppose two thousand years IS a long time.”
“Two thousand years? Two thousand years of what?”
“Two thousand years of living, of course! Two thousand years of me keeping your soul safely locked away in my kingdom in Oblivion! Come now, Laskiir, it must be coming back!”
“No, it’s not. Why the fuck did you steal my soul?”
“What did I say about language? You sure do ask a lot of questions.” He frustratedly blew out a tendril of smoke, which crawled lazily towards the ceiling, only to dissipate inches from its destination. “I didn’t steal anything. I gave you refuge from the Ayleids in my cave-this very cave-and when you voiced your wish to ‘live to see a time without these tyrannical monsters’, I revealed myself. I offered to remove your soul, thus freeing you from the bonds of age. You accepted, and so, here we are. I see Sithis has had a hand in this. He’s always possessed a rather twisted sense of humour. But then again, don’t we all?”
“So, you took my soul. Is this why magic has no effect on me?”
“Precisely. Most magic travels first to the soul, and from there affects whatever the spell’s desired target is. Much like what happens when you stick your hand in a fire. Signals first tell your brain that you’re feeling pain, and then your hand hurts. If your soul can’t be affected, neither can the rest of your body. This is also why you can’t wield magic. Magic users channel the spells from their souls and into their environments.
“Of course, the powerful, ancient, Daedric magics are more than simple enchantments and charms. Daedric magic affects your body and/or soul. It only needs one of the two to work. Which is why you can’t die now.”
“Can’t die?”
“You have a blood oath to keep. The magic surrounding Aranaal is that of the Daedra. You didn’t have a soul when you were bound to him, so the Daedra took your body instead. Had you had both, that dagger would have killed you, and your soul would rise to protect him until you released each other. Since you didn’t have your soul though, all that could survive was your body. Therefore, your duty made your body indestructible.
“Now, however, seems an appropriate time to return your soul to your body, and, because I think you’re an alright fellow, I’ll lift that nasty curse of Nocturnal’s. I don’t think she’d really want you to have it anyway.”
“Thanks. I really appreciate that.”
“No problem. Though you may want to take that out of your chest.” Marcus glanced down at his chest.
“GAH!” He snatched the dagger out of his heart and tossed it aside.
“Now, I think someone is waiting for you outside. He is indeed the most loyal friend you could ask for. Be well Marcus. Spend what time you have left well. You’re getting older every day now. Goodbye. And feel free to visit my cave any time. I do so love the tales of your exploits. Riveting, truly.”
Marcus walked out into the still pouring night, to the sweet music of a wolf baying at the full moon.
Life is good.
Epilogue
“As I live and breathe! The Grey Fox! What may I do for you, sir?” Armand saluted a little too enthusiastically.
“Has Methredhel returned to report on the Mages’ Guild burglary?”
“No, Guildmaster, not yet.”
“Fuckin’ woody…” Armand didn’t quite manage to stifle a snort. “What’s so funny, eh? You… aw, son of a bitch, that’s not what I meant!”
“Yes, Guildmaster, of course not Sir.”
“…I suppose it was kind of funny though, wasn’t it?” They both burst out laughing. Then there was a long, awkward silence.”
“So…”
“Nasty weather we’re having, eh Guildmaster?” Fupas grimaced under the cowl. He was beginning to tire of these underlings’ attempts to make smalltalk with their idol. He needed a break from this job.
“Yes,” he replied tiredly, “It’s only been a few hours, but it feels like it’s been raining for days.” He smiled stiffly. “I’m sure we’re due for some sunshine by tomorrow, though.”
Armand, sensing it was time to cut this awkward stalemate that had resorted to talking about the weather to an end, started towards the door. “I think I’ll hit the hay, Sir. It’s already two in the morning.”
“Armand? One more thing.”
“Yes Guildmaster?” Fupas inhaled heavily.
“Do you smell wet dog?”
To Be Continued…
But as I was saying, Wesley starts out as the ultimate pussy. But he is saved from all the crap in his life; a girlfriend who’s sleeping with his best friend, a boss who doesn’t hesitate to call him a pussy, and won’t shut the fuck up, and days of looking up diseases he may have/surfing porn on his computer. Brought to a world of killing (sometimes just for the hell of it), sex and pure adrenaline.
True, it was a bit hokey at times. But overall it was entertaining, and worth the rental.
