Needed a break from my Mass Effect,owned by bioware, stories so here's some Skyrim, owned by bethesda, based on my character Arawn, he's my Bosmer and I love him.

The moonlight breaks through the trees, making the field in front of me as bright as midday. Darkness and shadow have been my companions for as long as I can remember. Both familiar to me and necessary for the task that I have been commissioned. For me it is but a simple job just like any other. But to the people of this land, its consequences will forever be felt and all will know whom was responsible for it.

My arm rests in my hands. Strung and quivering. The breeze rustles the leaves and I watch as the silvery string shivers in anticipation. It is nearly time, the client will be bringing my prey to me. I close my eyes and take in the scent of the forest.

Several trees surround me their leaves quietly rustling, a symphony of majesty foreshadowing the violence that will soon stain their home. I ask for their forgiveness but they do not answer. I did not expect it. I have long since abandoned my people's rituals for the revenge I hungered for for so many years.

But old habits die hard and the trees quiet. I hear the thunder of hooves and the cracking of branches and laugh.

Maybe they have forgiven me.

I think to myself as I whisper. I know this is folly, but old habits die hard and there are more important matters that require my immediate attention.

"Lass Yah Nir."

The whisper leaves my lips and the darkness is suddenly lit with red specters. He is among them, my mark. His cloak billowing in the wind as he is led by one of his generals, the traitor that hired me. Both are fools, but the one that followed is the greater.

The red leather of my gloves stretches as I open my hand and slide loose an arrow. It's inky blackness the shadow sea that will soon pierce his skull. It's brother, Third Arm, is steady in my hand as I ready the shaft. I take a deep breath and take aim.

They are talking, brightly lit by the moon light. He is easy to find, the crown among his head is a golden sun. I lower my aim slightly, this is a moment to be cherished. He lets out a laugh, thinking that he is on a night hunt with his generals and they have lost their quarry.

I let my arrow fly and his laugh turns into a bloody choke. His guards shout in surprise. The horses stamp their hooves at the panic of their owners. The symphony is now a sea of chaos and my arm brings peace to it.

It is over soon. The trees are speaking once more as I slide from my nest. The scent of blood is heavy in the air as I sling my arm only to remove my fourth from the sheath at my side. The bodies of the guards lay on the ground. Bloody lumps of meat beneath their steeds. The general watches me, his eyes focused on me as I make my way through the bodies. I find one of them alive, begging for mercy, but I do not hear mercy, only his death as my blade quiets him with a delicious squelch.

Finally I see him. He has survived as I knew he would. My arrow went clear through his throat and still he lives. His neck is covered in a scarf of liquid red. His hand clutching vainly to stop the bleeding. He staggers about looking at his general. His curses mere gasps and the familiar sound of the Thu'um having no effect on the man.

He called me brother once, but to him I was a tool. The same was true for me. He gave me the means to exact my vengeance on the Thalmor. Now he is just another mark. A man whose time has come. He claimed himself a king but he was truly no better than the Thalmor and my conscience is clear as I turn him to me.

His eyes take a moment to focus. He has never seen me in this garb, my mouth and most of my face covered but he recognizes me. The scars over my left eye and the milky white of it. He grabs my shoulder and I hear him gasp, "Stormblade?"

I say nothing. Instead I sink my blade into his stomach, he gasps again and the blood seeps through the fingers at his neck. His knees buckle and I let him fall into my shoulder. I feel his breathing calm. He reeks of blood and death. A most satisfying scent.

I remove my blade and gently rest him on the ground.

He grasps my cowl with his free hand, pulling the fabric from my face and gasps. "Why, Brother?"

I grasp his hand and smile. "You thought you needed to Shout in order to rule. When in truth all it took to overthrow you was one who learned to Listen."