For the elderly wizard Festus Krex, today was quite ordinary. All that was on his agenda was traveling into the nearby town of Falkreath to purchase some alchemical ingredients and other necessities to provide for his home and Family.
His shopping list contained some strange items, for his Family wasn't a family in the traditional sense of the word. They were the Dark Brotherhood, a remorseless guild of paid assassins. His brothers and sisters came from all walks of life, from every race and province. But there was one thing that they all had in common: They were good at killing.
Festus nodded curtly to Astrid, the blonde leader of the Sanctuary, as he passed her. She stared at him without blinking as he sauntered up the underground tunnel to the surface of Skyrim. Astrid had seemed tense. He knew why. One of their best assassins had been dispatched to kill the Emperor of the continent just a week before. It wouldn't be long before they heard news of his success… Or failure.
Festus set his shoulder against the heavy Black Door and pushed. It swung open slowly, disgorging him into a foggy pine forest that characterized this area. It was perfect for disguising the assassins' hideout. Few travelers happened upon their base, and those that did were never heard from again.
Festus inhaled, tasting pine and damp earth from a recent rainfall. He loved this life; the dangers and excitement of hunting targets and being hunted by the authorities was intoxicating. He was getting on in years now, but his strong grasp of the magical arts meant he was still powerful.
Movement to his right. Festus started to turn and heard the twang of bowstrings. Instinctively, he threw up his arms and flinched. For once his mind couldn't think of a single spell to save him. Two dozen arrows struck the old man and bore him backward, their tips pinning him to a pine tree. He didn't even have time to scream before he died.
His killers advanced cautiously, led by a large man in ebony armor. When it was certain Festus was dead, they turned their attention to the Black Door, still slightly ajar. It glared back at them. They were unwelcome, these agents of the Empire.
It may have been imposing, but the agents had their orders. None of the assassins was to escape alive. It was time to get to work.
There was a small pool in the Sanctuary, surrounded by beautiful and deadly flowers. Light from a stained glass picture above it cast red and black designs over the water. The water rippled, and out of it rose Veezara.
Veezara was an Argonian, a lizard-like humanoid native to a land far from this one. As his neck cleared the water, slits on it closed, allowing him to breathe air once more instead of water. He had been submerged for the better part of an hour. The pool was his favorite part of the Sanctuary, and he liked to playfully ambush his fellow assassins from underwater.
Veezara's tongue flicked out in annoyance as he stalked out of the pool, wearing nothing but his scales. The crashing peal of the werewolf Arnbjorn's blacksmithing hammer greeted him instantly. He didn't understand how the others could stand such a harsh, grating sound for so long. He started to put on his red and black leather armor when something interrupted him. A shout came from the entrance hall, followed by a different clang of steel. Swords.
The Argonian left his armor where it was and hurried to the room where Astrid planned the Brotherhood's missions. Something was wrong. There were men in there, many of them. They were well armored and armed to the teeth. Veezara knew what they were. Penitus Oculatus, the Emperor's personal security detail. One of them, clad all in ebony, parried a dagger thrust from Astrid. He kicked her in the gut and sent her sprawling over her table.
"Kill her!" he commanded the others in a rough bass tone. Three Imperial agents rushed to do as the leader ordered. Astrid was now out of sight, and Veezara was nearing the room. This was foolish. He was unarmed and wearing not a stitch of armor, or clothes for that matter. But if the Penitus Oculatus had found them, he had to buy his Family some time to defend themselves.
One of the soldiers saw him coming and hurled a small glass vial at him. Veezara ducked, and the bottle smashed behind him, where it exploded and send shards of glass and fire everywhere. Veezara's eyes narrowed.
He entered the room and dropped low, rolling into the man who had thrown the vial. The agent tried to back up, but there were too many of them clustered together. Veezara jerked the sword from his enemy's hand and eviscerated him with his own weapon.
The others howled in outrage, but their numbers proved to be a weakness. Veezara ducked and weaved between them, killing three before they could bring their weapons to bear. Like an oversized hawk, he sprang up onto a man's shoulders, his thick tail held out for balance. The man couldn't take his weight and fell backwards into another group of agents.
Veezara didn't bother to finish those fallen. Instead, he turned to face the closer threats. Over the shoulders of the charging Penitus Oculatus, he saw Astrid being pressed by two agents. The third assigned to kill her was slumped against the wall, his neck at an unnatural angle.
The man in ebony appeared out of nowhere and swung an axe at him. Veezara sprang back. Now he was in a corner with his back against a heavy shelf. The man didn't press him. Instead, he stepped to the side, grabbed the shelf, and tipped it over. It was so sudden and unexpected that Veezara didn't get out of the way in time. Even as he dived, the shelf smashed him down onto the stone floor. He hissed in pain. The man in ebony swung the axe again, and this time there was nowhere to go.
Veezara's vision was hazy, tinged with red. His back screamed in pain where the shelf had fallen on him, and his right shoulder blade felt red hot. The axe had probably cleaved the bone and… Well, the bottom line was that he could no longer use it.
Two agents dragged him out from beneath the shelf and cast him onto the floor. The rest had flooded into the Sanctuary. He could hear screams and shouts as the Penitus Oculatus engaged the surprised assassins. And the fire. It was everywhere. How? How did it spread so quickly…? The vials. That had to be it. Those glass vials were filled with some kind of liquid, possibly magical, that sent fire everywhere. Smoke already choked the air so that Veezara had trouble drawing breath.
One agent raised a sword to finish him, but he would not be beaten so easily. His legs still worked fine, so he kicked the man's knee. The agent's face paled as he fell backward. Veezara rolled to the right as the other struck at him. When he missed, the Argonian twisted his wrist until he dropped his sword. They both grabbed for it, but Veezara got it first and held it up in time for the man to impale himself on it.
The injured assassin had just regained his feet when more agents came in, ready for battle. Veezara sorely regretted not putting on his armor. Maybe then it might have saved him. No matter. If today was to be the day he died, Veezara swore to himself he'd take every last one of the agents with him to the Void. He hunched in a defensive stance and met the soldiers' charge with his own.
Gabriella thought she was ready. As soon as the Penitus Oculatus agents made it into the common room, the Dark Elf woman threw spell after spell at them. In response, they threw those small vials that exploded on impact and lit up disproportionally large sections of floor with fire. She thought it mildly interesting. Perhaps after they killed these n'wahs, she could examine one.
The agents continued to pour into the room, forcing Arnbjorn back against his forge. The man had a greatsword twice as long as any of theirs, but they were quite skilled in fencing, too.
The first agent reached the stairs leading to the second floor where she now stood. Gabriella gritted her teeth and overcharged a frost spell, which enveloped the agent in blinding white. When it cleared, he was slumped against the wall, shivering uncontrollably. His skin had a blue tinge to it, and his fingers had blackened.
But now Gabriella's magicka was running low. She knew she wouldn't last ten seconds against the Imperial blades, so she retreated into her special room in the Sanctuary. It was primarily her and Festus' room, with an alchemy laboratory and a table used to enchant gear. There was a shallow pit on the far side of the room. Hissing came from it, but it was only Lis, her pet Frostbite Spider.
"Get them, Lis! Kill!" ordered Gabriella. This was one of the few commands Lis had been taught, but one that Gabriella was now grateful for. Lis sprang out of her pit and skittered across the floor. She was as tall as a dog and twice as wide; sufficient, Gabriella hoped, to hold off the agents while she recovered.
Gabriella fumbled with the stopper of one of her potions before downing it in a few short gulps. It suffused her with a queer feeling, as if she had drank liquid moonlight. A short screech made her turn around.
Poor Lis' many eyes were ruined by an ebony axe that had split her head in two. Holding said axe was a large man in matching armor. It looked impenetrable, but Gabriella had to try. For vengeance, if not for her own survival.
"I'm sorry, Lis," Gabriella whispered. She thought intensely, ancestors! Hear my plea! I call upon your wrath to defend me! In the meantime, she dual casted destruction spells to slow the man down.
Magical armor went on next. Then she tried a rune spell, which would explode when triggered by the man's proximity. So far, the man in ebony was dodging most of her spells, but he couldn't get any closer.
Her ancestors' voices filled her head with a cacophony of shouted threats at her enemies, encouragement to her, and suggestions. She smiled wildly, bolstered by thousands of years of Dunmer power.
A cloak of fire whirled around her, caused by sheer willpower of her ancestors in the afterlife. It was unique to the Dark Elf race, and Gabriella used it with pride.
She stalked forward, carefully avoiding her own rune. The man hunched for a moment like a bear, then threw himself at her. Gabriella knew she could not dodge. Instead, she summoned the most powerful fireball she could and prepared to launch it. But she had miscalculated.
The man slammed into her and her aim was thrown off. She released the fireball, hoping it would somehow explode and kill them both, but all it hit was the stone table several feet behind her.
The force of the explosion dazed her, but apparently not the man. He lifted her into the air and slammed her onto the table. The stress was too much for it and it cracked in two, leaving her in the small valley-like gap between the two halves.
Her ancestors screamed in fury and terror inside her head. Gabriella, however, was content. She knew she could do no more, and that was more comforting than anything her musty old relatives could tell her.
She resigned herself to watching in detached curiosity as the man in ebony raised his axe and brought it down upon her chest.
At first glance, it may have looked bizarre for a large cat to be riding a horse. But this was no ordinary cat. This was a Khajiit, the feline counterpart to the Argonian race. They were just as intelligent as humans and mostly possessed the same body characteristics, if one didn't count the black fur that covered his entire body, the tail that lashed back and forth with obvious rage, and his face, which was more feline than human, complete with whiskers and two ears flat to his head.
The Khajiit's name was Jag, and he was furious. Not only had the plot to kill the Emperor failed, it seemed as though someone within the Dark Brotherhood itself had sold him out. That someone had betrayed him, and in doing so, had earned a slow death for themselves.
There was also a touch of fear deep within him. Not for himself, since Jag had never been defeated yet and didn't plan on dying anytime soon. No, it was fear for his Family, the Dark Brotherhood. When the Penitus Oculatus agents intent on killing him had ambushed him in the city of Solitude the day before, they boasted that they had found the Sanctuary and were going to destroy it.
Jag, of course, had easily killed the overconfident men, but now he was making all haste for Falkreath. He was afraid of what he might find there. If they had killed his Family… No. It was best to not assume anything.
He was nearing the Sanctuary now. Thanks to his horse's unflagging stamina, he was able to ride through the night at a full gallop. He brought the horse to a stop and jumped off, immediately going low in a crouch. There were sounds up ahead, men's voices jeering and laughing. He didn't recognize any of them. The horse stayed behind, though it too was worried about the Family.
Jag parted the weeds with his hands and peered up ahead. There was the Black Door, yes, but it was sagging open. A trail of spilled oil led from inside the Sanctuary to a trio of wagons parked on the road above. Two Penitus Oculatus agents guarded them, making sure that no assassins escaped.
"It's a shame we can't go down and join the others," one said.
"You want to invade a den of cutthroat murderers? See, this is why you're never going to be promoted." The other answered.
"Bah! The others are safe enough. We've got Legate Kaius with us, remember? Our boys will probably come out without a scratch singing The Age of Aggression. Besides, we've killed their best assassin already up in Solitude. The Dark Brotherhood doesn't stand a chance."
Jag exposed his sharp teeth and gave a low, throaty growl. How dare they hurt his Family! No one really liked the Emperor, anyway. Why couldn't they just let him assassinate the man? Outrage and ordinary rage raced through him. He reached back and touched the tips of his katanas that were affixed to his back in an X. Good. They'd taste their share of blood today.
He summoned his innate magical power. Once he drew on enough, he held it there and imagined there being nothing where he now stood. Not himself, not his red and black leather armor, and not the enchanted katanas or variety of other daggers he had on his person.
He had to concentrate. This was a difficult spell. Jag drew upon the magicka and cast the incantation. A moment later, there was only a blurry outline of a Khajiit to mark where he now stood.
The invisible Khajiit walked silently towards the two oblivious agents. He drew a menacing dagger that he had won from Mehrunes Dagon, the Demonic Lord of Change himself. It lusted for blood, and he was going to satisfy it.
Mehrunes' Razor passed across the first agent's throat and left a bright red smile in its wake. The man gurgled and tried to put his hands up to his throat. Jag shoved him away. The dying man's partner looked around in astonishment as Jag's active camouflage failed.
Without pausing, Jag flipped the knife around and threw it as hard as he could at the man. It sunk up to the hilt in the agent's eye socket, and before the body hit the ground, Jag had retrieved the blade.
As he drew close to the door, he noticed a familiar robed figure. He almost laughed. The crotchety old wizard was hanging off the ground, pinned to a tree by so many arrows, he resembled a pincushion. Jag's mirth turned to grief as he imagined what the old man would have to say about his death. Jag turned and pressed on into the Sanctuary.
The amount of smoke coming from inside was atrocious and made Jag's sensitive eyes and nose water. He crouched low until he came to the first room where Astrid normally stood.
It was a mess.
The heavy iron shelves were overturned, the books that were on them burnt and scattered like leaves in autumn. Patches of floor still smoldered with fire, but the real inferno raged in the common area. Jag was about to leave when he spotted a flash of bloodstained scales. Oh, no.
Veezara lay dead, deep gashes carved in his green hide. He was naked for some bizarre reason. The corpses of many Penitus Oculatus agents lay around him.
Astrid's bedroom was awash with flames. Even with Jag's enchanted armor that could probably withstand the blaze, he didn't venture in there. No one (apart from him) could survive that.
Instead, Jag rushed into the spacious common room, where a dark and hulking shape was battling a trio of Penitus Oculatus. In the time it took to recognize the shape as Arnbjorn in his werewolf form, he had seized one of the men and literally ripped him limb from limb.
Jag was hesitant to rush in and help since he wasn't sure the usually grizzled man would recognize him. So Jag summoned his magic and cast a lightning bolt. It hit an agent in the back and he fell forward into Arnbjorn's reach. The werewolf gave the wounded man an uppercut with a burly, clawed hand, sending him flying across the room with half his face missing.
The last agent took advantage of the distraction and plunged his sword into Arnbjorn's hairy back. The werewolf stiffened. Just as Jag thought his Brother was done for, Arnbjorn whipped around and tackled the agent, though it was more like he fell on him.
Jag was still lurking behind them, but the scene was plenty grisly even from that angle. Blood and gore flew everywhere as Arnbjorn used his massive strength to slash the agent to ribbons. To add insult to injury, Jag heard a sickening noise as the Oculatus agent's throat was ripped out. But what made Jag wince was the fact that the sword was still in Arnbjorn's back.
Arnbjorn straightened up and turned around. His and Jag's eyes met. Then Arnbjorn gave a last huff and collapsed face first on the floor. A sense of shock threatened to overwhelm Jag. He never thought Arnbjorn could be killed. He was just too strong. There had to be something else at work here, some explanation for the carnage he was seeing. He was going to hunt it down.
He ran through more burning rooms. There—Lis' body was crumpled on the floor. Jag had never liked the spider much, but to see it like this… A few feet further was Gabriella, nestled between two halves of the table she always used. Her expression was relaxed, peaceful even, despite the ugly axe wound in her chest.
Jag stalked on. Through a veritable maze of rooms. There was a shout from the dining area. Jag hastened his pace. Usually, the fire in the kitchen was contained in the hearth. Now, however, it burned in patches all over the floor, on the kitchen table, and in the pantry. Jag wondered what Nazir would have to say about them ruining his cooking kingdom.
Then he realized that it was Nazir himself who was fighting with a Penitus Oculatus agent on the wooden walkway above the kitchen. They were evenly matched, and the duel was vicious. Nazir used his Redguard scimitar while the intruder had a typical leaf-bladed Imperial sword.
Then Jag saw him. It was a man clad all in ebony armor, complete with an axe at his side. The man stood a ways back from the duel, watching the combatants.
Jag felt a grim sense of satisfaction. One of the two Imperials had to be Legate Kaius, the one the agents had mentioned outside. Whichever one Kaius was, he would die first.
Legate Kaius was not a cruel man, despite what many said. There was a fine line between cruelty and fulfillment of one's duty. And that's all he wanted. Ever since he had devoted his life to the Imperial Legion, that was how he spent his days.
Objective and success. Nothing more, nothing less. Failure was not an option for him, but he derived little pleasure from the killing that was a big part of his work.
But he had to admit that eliminating the Dark Brotherhood had been easier to justify than most other missions.
Maybe it was true that they were people, and maybe it was true that they were more like him than he cared to admit. But they had threatened the life of the Emperor he was sworn to protect. For that reason, they would die. Every last one of them.
The mission started off easily enough. They'd gained access to the Sanctuary and fought their way into the heart of the assassins' den. Casualties had been taken, yes, but he had expected that. Planned for it.
Even if his fellow soldiers were all killed, Kaius was prepared to kill all the assassins himself. With his sturdy ebony armor and advanced skills with a blade, he stood a good chance, too.
Now he observed Arcturus dueling a dark skinned man in a red turban, impatient to move on. "Hurry up, Arcturus." If Kaius could've helped end the fight, he would've. But his second in command was being stubborn about killing some of the assassins himself. Thus, he was watching this drag on and on. Too much longer and the smoke might kill them all. He coughed once.
"Kaius!" At the sounds of his name, Kaius turned toward the voice. It belonged to a dark furred Khajiit male on the landing below. Kaius held his war axe up; the Khajiit was dressed in Dark Brotherhood armor.
Faster than it takes to tell, the Khajiit hurled a dagger at Kaius, who put his forearms in front of his helmet and neck protectively. He was confident that his armor would stop it anywhere else. He was wrong.
The knife pierced his left gauntlet and went deep into his arm, causing him to roar in pain. He grabbed the dagger and wrenched it out, casting it away like a thorn. Meanwhile, the Khajiit had unsheathed dual katanas and held them ready. They were longer than a knife but shorter than a sword, providing both range and power.
Kaius hefted his axe and leapt down to the floor, anticipating the Khajiit's charge. Only he didn't. The catlike man advanced on him slowly, cautiously, while behind them the other duel raged.
The Legate decided that he didn't have all day, and feinted at his opponent. To his credit, the Khajiit didn't even flinch. He's better than I thought, Kaius said to himself. The Khajiit swiped twice with his katanas, forcing Kaius to whip his axe around to block them. He didn't want to risk whatever strange enchantments were on his enemy's weapons.
Kaius chopped at Jag's leg and then straight punched him in the chest with his left hand. It was fortunate for Jag that Kaius' hand was wounded; otherwise he might've actually been injured. As it was, he rolled with the punch and vaulted over the kitchen table.
Jag hopped back up onto the table and, using the high ground to his advantage, slashed at Kaius' helmet as fast as he could. Whenever the Imperial managed to strike back, Jag would nimbly hop out of the way. Kaius' axe acquired many nicks from the constant pounding of Khajiit blades.
Finally, Kaius seized the entire table and overturned it. Jag used the momentum to launch himself into the rafters and perch there among the smoke. It stung his face, but Jag had grabbed a breath of air before ascending and now held it in. The Khajiit's night colored fur blended in well with the smoke and he remained motionless.
Kaius turned in a slow circle, trying to figure out where his enemy had gone. He decided to go and help Arcturus defeat the Redguard to flush Jag out.
As Kaius jogged up the steps, a fireball stuttered out of nowhere and exploded at his feet. The man was blown backward and hit the wall. The steps were reduced to ash and kindling. As Jag watched, Kaius struggled to his feet. What did it take to kill him? Jag didn't know, but he would strangle the Imperial with his bare hands if need be.
Meanwhile, Arcturus had rapped Nazir on the head with the pommel of his sword, forcing the Redguard back. Instead of pressing his foe, Arcturus withdrew vial after vial of explosive oil and flung them down into the dining area. They created a small firestorm that whipped what little air there was left around.
Falling now meant almost certain death. Kaius had jumped up onto the second floor in time, thinking that Jag had become invisible after he flipped the table and was now being cooked.
That was not the case. Jag stepped from rafter to rafter until he was above them. Kaius looked ready to step in and help Arcturus, so Jag summoned a lightning bolt and cast it. His aim was true. It hit Arcturus square in the neck, delivering hundreds if not thousands of volts to his body. The man screamed in agony.
Not one to savor the moment, Nazir seized the straps on Arcturus' armor and threw him bodily from the platform into the sea of fire below. Kaius now saw where the magic was coming from and body-slammed Nazir out of the way.
"Come down from your perch, coward, and we'll finish this fight," rasped Kaius. The smoke was really starting to affect him now.
"As you wish." Replied Jag coldly. "I feel that it's time to settle my debt to you."
"What debt?"
"I owe you death for destroying the Sanctuary and my brothers."
"Then pay up!" shouted Kaius, an unfamiliar rage gripping him.
The two hurled themselves at each other, linked by their flashing blades. Jag was like a column of smoke himself, constantly fading in with the shadows and then exploding in from all angles to attack again. He would charge head on or else perform flips off the walls and land behind Kaius. His whirling katanas resembled insect wings, and swiped just as fast.
For his part, Kaius was like a spire of rock, weathering each and every assault Jag threw against him. His axe was severely damaged now from deflecting the blows raining on him, and his armor stopped what his parries did not.
Kaius stepped back as Jag spun around, holding his swords close to his body. Kaius stooped and grabbed hold of the twirling Khajiit's leg. Jag was halted abruptly and tried to shake himself lose, but Kaius jerked back and flung his enemy towards the flaming dining room. Even as he flew, Jag flung his katanas back towards Kaius, who only succeeded in keeping one away from him. The other spun end over end and embedded itself in his thigh near the hip bone.
Kaius groaned in pain, but he knew Jag's attack had been a desperate act. His momentary satisfaction turned to disbelief as Jag grabbed hold of one of the wooden support pillars on the edge of the platform and swung himself back around, never touching the ground.
He kicked Kaius in the helmet, snapping his head back and causing him to hit the wall. Jag gracefully slid down the wall, but had to do a backwards handspring as Kaius suddenly lashed out with his axe. It clipped Jag on the bottom of his left arm, hitting the bone.
Jag stood ready, his back to the dining area. He was weaponless. Kaius not only had his axe, he had one of Jag's katanas still in his hip. The other lay near the ruined stairs, at the edge of the second floor they were all standing on. Nazir was laying where he had fallen, transfixed at the awesome battle that had taken place.
There was a tension between the three of them. The end of the duel was near, and anticipation of it had all of them on edge.
Kaius limped towards Jag as fast as his injuries allowed. They pained him with each movement, but he ignored it. Jag's body posture was solid. He was going to meet Kaius' charge instead of vaulting out of the way. Then Kaius realized it had only been a feint.
As Kaius got closer, Jag backed up until he was against the wooden barriers. What he knew, and Kaius didn't, was that the fire had eaten away at the wooden fence, so that it was little thicker than a sword blade.
Jag tucked and rolled under Kaius' feet, tripping him up. He also grabbed the katana hilt, and it sprang free as Kaius went headfirst through the railing. Burning wood wreathed him as he fell into the fiery kitchen.
Jag straightened up, retrieved both katanas, and tucked them in their sheaths on his back. Satisfied that his enemy was dead, he went over and helped Nazir up with his good hand.
"We must get to safety or the smoke will kill us!" coughed Nazir.
"There appears to only be one path. Let's go." Jag said. The rage had mostly died from his amber eyes. Now he was full of determination that some of the Brotherhood survive the raid.
"Wait. Listener!" Nazir said, awe written in his voice.
Jag followed his gaze back the way they had come. Kaius was standing at the edge of the room, just beyond the reach of the flames. They gazed at each other a moment more before the Legate turned and limped away, leaving a blood trail in the scorched stone.
"We will kill him later," warbled Jag. "Go!"
They hobbled down the tunnel to the Night Mother's room. She was the mummified corpse, the matron of the Dark Brotherhood from who Jag received his orders. Her sarcophagus was open and her horribly preserved body seemed to be grinning at their plight.
The way forward was shut.
"Damn." Nazir cursed. "It's a dead end. What now?"
A disembodied voice echoed in Jag's mind. "Come. Seek refuge inside my coffin, Listener. It is the only way for you to live. Come. Survive. The Dark Brotherhood lives with you."
Jag ran to the coffin and pushed his way inside. Proximity to a smelly dead thing was the last worry he had. The doors of the sarcophagus swung closed, leaving him trapped in the Night Mother's embrace.
Exhaustion and smoke inhalation caught up with him, and the last thing he heard before falling unconscious was the whispered voice of the Night Mother, singing what might have been a somber lullaby.
A/N: Hello, readers! I hope you have enjoyed this one- shot inspired by my own experiences in the quests "Death Incarnate" and "Destroy the Dark Brotherhood!" I made Veezara naked because the first time I played the questline, I found him like that, and it left me scratching my head and wondering how he could have ended up that way. There will be no continuation of this story because it is meant to be a oneshot. However, that could change if I get lots of feedback.
At any rate, i'd much appreciate it if you left a review telling me your thoughts on the story.