This is my second fanfic in total (my old one was deleted) and very nooby. No flaming. Criticism I can work on is great. I am told I make things go too fast.
Disclaimer: I don't own Oblivion. But I own one copy of it. XD
If anything in this fanfic is inaccurate or plain wrong, I don't much care. It's not the correctness, it's the story that counts. Although that also sucks. .
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It was a horribly warm day again for the hooded, robed figure, sleeping uncomfortably on the shabby bed belonging to the city's innkeeper. At least, it did, before she was fatally wounded in an "incident" involving a dagger, a poison, and 6x Sneak attack damage bonus.
He awaited sundown, when the city would sleep again, and he could rise to hunt once more.
-16 hours later-
With a stiff back, he groaned and rose to a stand, rubbing the sleep from his scarlet eyes.
He took a swig of his favourite wine - Surilie - to wake himself up faster. Then he strapped his favourite enchanted longsword, Bloodsucker - glass with a strong Absorb Health enchantment, his trusty ebony arrows, and the Eye of Sithis, along with a couple of chameleon rings he'd picked up through his travels. Then after much decision, he equipped Hunter's Sight.
Now fully prepared, he exited the inn sneakily in order to avoid the guards - he had over 14000 septims on his head. Not that this was something he couldn't pay, it's just he was saving for a new house so that he didn't have to kill innkeepers all the time.
He glanced left - no one. Right - a guard walking in the opposite direction. Coast was clear.
He advanced through the streets towards the nearest house he could find, belonging to Reynald Jemane. A five-tumbler lock was no match for the Skeleton Key and the door was open in a matter of minutes.
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The room was dimly lit by a fire burning in the main room. According to Hunter's Sight, Jemane was asleep in the second room upstairs. The sleek vampire maneuvred effortlessly to the door and opened it silently.
The door glided back revealing a fancy room - a soft bed, candlesticks, a large dresser, cupboards, a dog, a table with food, a - WHAT?
Growling menacingly, evidently able to see him, the dog moved into an atacking stance and barked loudly. Jemane was instantly awakened and alerted.
"Get out of here before I call the guards!"
The pale-skinned level 38 decided not to heed his words. 'How tough can one Breton be?' he thought.
He drew his sword and slashed viciously at the dog, killing it instantly.
That was the last straw for Jemane. He picked up a warhammer and began to swing.
The fanged receiver weighed his chances and decided to run, but not before quickly throwing a fireball at his attacker, knocking him back a few feet.
"By the Nine Divines! Assault! Assault!"
This was rather strange, seeing as Jemane had technically attacked first. He decided not to argue, however, and ran for his life.
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The minute he was outside a familiar Imperial scowling face stared at him. He knew he was busted now and was just dipping into his pocket to fish out the necessary gold when -
"Feeding time is over, vampire! Go back to the grave that spawned you!"
Of course. Under new law, the penalty for being a fully-fledged vampire was death. He tried to protest but was grabbed by four strong soldiers and hauled off to the castle.
-8 days later-
He awoke in a groggy cell and looked around. There were no other prisoners near him, no alive ones anyway. His unfortunate cellmate lay bruised, beaten, and quite certainly dead beside him, with two deep piercings in the side of his neck. That had been the feast of a lifetime.
Even Hunter's Sight could only locate the disease-ridden rats scurrying in the sewers below. 'What I wouldn't give to bite one..' he thought as his stomach snarled against his starved and bony ribs.
At this rate he thought his execution day would never come when a small pink silhouette appeared in the corner of his eye. He darted his vision immediately in its direction and heard a faint rustling of robes. The shapeless blur grew bigger as the person it belonged to drew closer. He tensed, readying his body for anything, and the locks on his cell clicked open.
"Who are you?" he called.
"Shh! They might hear me!"
The figure moved into focusable vision as Hunter's Sight wore off. It was a short Bosmer like himself, except instead of being clad in prisoner's uniform,
he was dressed head-to-toe in a blood-red robe, complete with hood.
"Hear you? I'm surprised they haven't SEEN you!"
"Are you poking fun at my uniform? The Master will not be happy!"
"Master? I'll have you know I'm the most important-"
"Yeah, yeah, that's what they all say. Here."
The elf held out a bundle of items.
"This is what I found in a chest out front. Is it yours?"
He had everything the guards had "confiscated" from him in his arms, minus a few beers and wines. (hintedy hint hint).
"Yeah, it's all mine. Thanks!"
He ate some bread and cheese greedily and chugged a good five pints of ale (though, oddly, not getting drunk).
"Anything I can do to help a family member!"
The elf smiled and held up his hand. Resting on his ring finger was, unsurprisingly, a decorated ring. But not just any ring -
"That's a Black Band!" he exclaimed through a mouthful of rotten strawberry. "You must be-"
"Thrangor. Top Executioner for the Dark Brotherhood."
He also bore a brownish amulet and had a short, curved dagger sheathed at his belt.
"Then why aren't you wearing your Shrouded Armour?"
"I prefer these robes. They aren't as magical, but they are comfier and easier to cast spells in. You haven't given me your name yet, brother."
"Bregor," he responded. "Listener for the Dark Brotherhood."
Thrangor's eyes widened. He knelt and bowed his golden-blonde head.
"Forgive me, revered one! I did not recognise you without your robes!"
Bregor put said robes on and equipped all the necessary articles.
"Stand, underling. If you can help me out of this prison, you will become my new Silencer."
The elf looked absolutely awestruck. He was lost for words, but his gratitude was shown through his look of pure joy.
Then, without warning, his body flew across the room and slumped, dead, at the wall. A silver arrow penetrated his skull and blood trickled from the wound.
Bregor followed the path of flight to find the bowman: a particularly furious Imperial Guard, with another arrow already drawn and pointed at Bregor's eye.
Bregor used his amazing Acrobatics to side-roll to safety as the arrow whizzed past him and clanged into the wall. By the time he had stood up again, he had his own bow strung with the arrow that had killed Thrangor, and within one second the guard was hit. His body glowed green as it smashed into the opposite cell door.
Bregor smirked, put away his bow, took any and all valuables from both corpses, and walked out of the cell, out of the prison, and out of the Imperial City without another disturbance.
"..Owned." he thought contentedly.
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There we are, one chapter all bright and sparkly and finished! If you don't like the names, I will consider changing them. I took them from a book I have about Oblivion. If you don't like the story, please don't bother saying unless there is something fundamentally wrong with it OR something I can correct.
If you DO like the story, YAY!
And even if you don't have anything useful to say, just review so that I can see that you've read it. Next chapter will be weird. Word of warning.