"Are you sure you're going to be alright on your own?" Marcurio asked, his arms crossed firmly across his chest. Arabell smiled at him over her shoulder, continuing to pack her back and ignoring the constant, repetitive question.
"I'm an adult, Marc, I'll be fine." She picked up the tough leather bag, slinging it over her shoulder. He grumbled looking away, huffing about the whole situation. She laughed and turned to look through the extensive weapon rack.
"It's a two-day trip, at most" She said, cocking her head, a wide smile planted on her lips.
"I'm aware how long it's going to take," he retaliated, walking over and looking at the sword she was inspecting carefully in her hands. "You're going to be completely alone, and this isn't the first time one of these...'missions'...has gone south." She gave him a look of comedic impatience, raising her eyebrow.
"Marcurio, you're jealous." He glared at her, causing her to laugh as she sheathed the sword. She shifted her gaze up at him, a playful glint in her eye. He sighed heavily, trying to keep a frown and failing. Arabell held her arm out, as he rolled his eyes and copied her. They bumped fists, in a way practiced a thousand times over. He was still annoyed, and let his emotions show through, but helped her gather the rest of the items for her trip none the less. Arabell fixed her armor, opening the door, her map and the contract tucked carefully into her front pocket. She glanced once more over her shoulder at her companion. The sparkle of adrenaline new adventure brought in her eye, offering a wave as she stepped out into the blistery wind, leaving a concerned look still on his face.
She took the northern road from the house, wandering along as she followed the vague instructions of the contract. The thieves guild had been busy ever since its return to power, taking on jobs that challenged its limitations and power. Recently, they had been dabbling in rare goods across Skyrim that sold for hefty prices, and almost always heavily guarded. Arabell didn't mind getting her hands bloody and was usually the one they sent. Although this time, she was without her companion. This job was particular in its details, requiring a bit of careful planning, and a lot of stealthy work. Delvin had insisted that the group guarding this artifact (who called themselves 'The Wolfstone Gang') were of value to the guild. After much bargaining and debate, they had decided to kill as little of the members as possible and continue profiting from the group and declaring there power that was not to be challenged.
Arabell was the right fit for the job. After years of practiced stealth and silent killing, no one else could match up to her skills, or her inherently violent nature. However, the same could not be said for her companion. He was strong of course, and could hold his own in many ways. Though he lacked her years of stealth and shadow work, and there was too great a risk for him to draw attention to them. Reluctantly, she asked him to stay home.
He was extremely dissatisfied with her decision, and spend the entire day mentioning the things that could go wrong, nagging her continually in an attempt to change her mind.
No matter, she was determined to go off on her own. Despite his worried and repetitive suggestions, she was a warrior. Hundreds of caves, forts, and ruins had shaped her into a fearsome fighter, and someone that shouldn't be trifled with. She walked down the road, a smile on her face and perk in her steps. A fortune of gold in her several homes, trophies, and weapons galore, and a prominent legacy shouldered her way. The old fort was something new, nowhere she had ever been. It lay hidden in the far southern mountains, neatly tucked against the border of Skyrim. It was a challenge she welcomed and embraced. Travel was easy, and even boring at times. It usually consisted of wandering long roads, sleeping at Inn's or under the stars, and rationing food. Fortunately, it was only a short trip to her destination. She pulled the worn paper out of her jacket pocket, reading over the contract once more and checking her directions. "Misty Rock Fort", how poetic. She stuffed the paper back into her sturdy leather jacket, adjusting the sword on her back and the spare fastened to her hip. Adventure was waiting, and she was going to seek it.
After several hours of intervals consisting of walking and rest, she neared her destination. The bandits had certainly picked a remote location. She followed the worn stony path high into the snowy mountains, thankful for the warmth her armor provided. A small white fox sensed her, its ears perked as she came closer before darting into a maze of small rocks and shrubbery. As she drew nearer, the playful nature melted away as it always did in these times. She began treading more carefully, her eyes peeled for any sign of movement. The snow blew softly, leaving a fresh blanket that covered her tracks. She saw the tops of the towers just behind a group of large rocks. There it was. Old tattered flags blew in the merciless cold wind, and she could spot at least one scout. She slipped a pair of gloves on, carefully scaling behind the rocks to stay hidden. In this snowstorm, the range of the scouts and archers would be significantly impaired, and it was likely they wouldn't even see her infiltrate the fort. She began to mentally calculate the least damaging route, after all, she had to leave a few alive. She glanced around at the few patrol guards, there were enough that she could slip inside with only a few casualties. Arabell dug through her jacket, searching for the contract. She heard a noise, shooting her head up in time to see a man standing over her. He swung a sword aiming for her head, and she let go instinctively. The ragged rock dug into her skin as she slid down its frozen slope, tumbling back as she hit the ground. She sprung to her feet, quickly assessing the situation. Arabell gripped her sword, drawing the blade and taking a few defensive steps back. The armored man charged down the slope at her. The clashed hard, iron sparks flying and dodging each others blows, each with killer intent. It was terrifyingly beautiful art, dangerous and rhythmic. He swung and her head, causing her to duck and take out his feet. He crashed to the ground onto his back.
He struggled to get up as she walked over, raising her sword to finish him off. A sudden sharp pain caught her off guard and caused her to look down. An arrow had grazed her leg and stuck in the snow a few inches away, and a tiny gash was left on her skin. She picked up the arrow, looking at the dark liquid on it that wasn't blood. Poison. That was no accidental shot, and by the time she realized what it was, it was too late. She stumbled, struggling to stay standing and falling into the snow. Her arms grew weaker and gave out underneath her body, dragging her down to the cold unforgiving earth. She laid half-conscious in the snow, reaching desperately for her sword in a vain attempt to protect herself, but failed as numbness emptied itself into her limbs. Her vision grew blurry, coaxing her to sleep and pushing away her thoughts, cold and calming fingers gripping at her mind. The last thing she saw was two figures walking towards her body before she blacked out completely.
