If you've stuck with me through the first two chapters – which weren't exciting in the least, I know – then I thank you for being patient. I've got a lot of time to write, so expect something daily, or at least every other day*.
In other words, I'll be revealing the cloaked man's name sometime in the next two chapters, as well as the third member of my OC trio.
*I'll also be letting you guys chose how long you want these chapters to be, I can do 2,500+ in a day, or 10,000+ in three or four
The Ragged Flagon was definitely what the people in Riften say it is.
A dirty, unwelcoming shithole, that is.
But the cloaked man has seen worse, hell he lived in a corpse pit for the first year of his mortal life. So with a warning to his new little sister – whose name he'd yet to ask – about the smell, he followed Brynjolf into the Flagon, watching for threats - or hands that have no business near his pockets.
"The Flagon is more of a front. It keeps the guards away from anything incriminating and provides a little business for Vekel." The nord went about explaining who everyone was and what they did, what Devin could provide and what Tonilia might buy. After the introductions, and a show of a disturbing lack of confidence in him, the cloaked man broke away from the thieves and walked right into the cistern. He'd been here before and none of these professionals knew it. Walking right through the conversation between two of the less important pickpockets, he glides over to the guild master's desk.
"Mercer, you idiot, why are your thieves speaking to me?" He hissed, entirely too annoyed to actually care about the explanation.
"Maven wants you to help the guild. I told them to find you. It doesn't matter now, does it?" Mercer ground out, he hated this man, always stealing the long distance jobs from the guild. "Whatever, we have a job here for you, directly from Maven, take it." Handing the sealed letter to the cloaked man, Mercer quickly turned and sat down, willing to do anything other than talk.
Spinning sharply on his heel, the cloaked man grabs his 'little sister' by the wrist and exits through the secret entrance.
Walking to Honeyside, he turned. "Grab anything you want to keep and let's go. I don't want to be in this city longer than I have to be." His mood having soured all the way through their venture through the Ratway, he was angry.
Angry at Maven
Angry at Mercer
Angry at the Thieves' Guild
Angry at Riften.
He had made it clear; he was not some errand boy. The next time something like this happened, it wouldn't just be the servants. He was plotting.
Brynjolf was an agreeable person, so was Delvin. Most of the less infamous thieves in the guild were fine, but Maven and the arrogance displayed by those directly under her had to be tamed.
The last time the cloaked man tamed something, the city of Dawnstar had to close off the city entirely, lest the bandits or the Imperials come running to take it over.
Taking a deep breath, the cloaked man and his sister exit the city and walk down the road for a mile, past the towers, past the guards. A couple minutes past the last guard outpost, which was manned by well-hidden corpses – not that hiding them does any good when he can smell blood over a quarter-mile – he sees a light.
"Help us!" A voice from around a thicket of trees finds his ear, curious and looking for a bite to eat, he walks over to see a broken down wagon, surrounded by wolves.
"Help us, please!" A woman screams from on top of the wreck, looking decidedly less worried about her health than would be expected of a civilian surrounded by wolves.
"Really, you think this'll fool me?"
The woman shrugs, "Worth a try."
The wolves disappear, the mage letting go of the illusion. After a moment, a group of armed men and women rush out, all of them in skin-tight black and red leather. They surround the man and his sister.
"So, another poor fool wants me dead. You know how this usually goes, I hope. I stand here, you gloat and attack me, you all die and I get a free meal." This happened every other Tirdas, so he wasn't all that worried.
"You really think that you can protect her and kill us all, you think too highly of yourself."
"Hmm, I hadn't thought of that." He really hadn't, it didn't mean anything now, but it also brought up the fact that he needed to plan for how to travel with his new little sister, it wouldn't do to run across an entire province in a week when you had someone who couldn't do it that had to follow you.
"Hah! We've definitely got you!" There's the gloating. "Send him to the void!" There's the attack.
The first three assassins run up to him, small, thin swords in hand. One diving for the back of his legs, and two going for vitals. The cloaked man kicks the diving assassin, while blocking the sword aimed at his heart. He turns his head and the man aiming for his neck misses, stabbing his comrade in the eye.
"Gah!" The man who was stabbed in the eye falls to the ground, his sword cutting the already grounded leg-slashers throat. The cloaked man knees the assassin in front of him in the groin, sending him to the ground with a whimper.
"Is this really all you've got!?" He wasn't expecting much better, but he hadn't even had to draw his own weapon yet.
"Come on you fools, get him!" The woman says, still on the broken down wagon.
'She's obviously the leader, best kill her last.' The cloaked man thought. Twisting into the proper stance, he reaches into his cloak and pulls out four knives, throwing them with trained accuracy into the next wave of assassins, downing them instantly.
"What!" The woman shrieks. She starts to pull out her own sword, to defend herself, and looks up only to freeze.
The man wasn't there.
Looking around franticly, searching for her target, she turns around and stops.
Stops breathing, that is.
With a dagger in her throat, it'd be hard to breathe anyway.
"A bit late to check behind you I'm afraid." He says, entirely unimpressed by this round of stab-an-idiot. The woman falls to her knees, and then to her side, sliding off the wrecked wagon and tumbling to the ground. The man jumps down, and walks over to where he left his little sister.
"You killed them!" She screams, terrified by the scene in front of her.
"Yes, I did. You should be so lucky that you saw this sooner, rather than later." The man draws out his sentence, trying to get to the part where he explains why he's about to eat the corpses.
That's always awkward to explain.
"So I'm just supposed to accept that you're a killer?" She asks, disturbed by his apparent "casual killer" style.
"Yes, this is Skyrim, things like this happen. Deal with it." He pauses for a moment, "Or do you need another hug?" He asks. He had no clue why hugs were calming, but it worked when mother did it for him, so he assumed it was some natural phenomena.
The girl blushes, "No! I don't need another hug!" She wanted one, but it would sound weird to agree to one like that.
"Alrigh-"The sound of clapping interrupts him.
"That was a wonderful show!" The compliment comes from behind him. He spins to meet the unwanted guest with a knife in the throat, but the figure dodges with a tilt of the head.
"Who are you?" He yells out to them.
"My name or who I am to you right now?" She asks, it was a she, a dark elf, with purple-grey skin and blood-red eyes. She had on the armor of the Dark Brotherhood, like the corpses around her, but the hood was lowered, showing her black hair, with a single blood red streak.
"I couldn't care less about your name, why are you here?"
"I'm here to kill you obviously; I wanted to see what monster of a man it takes to kill so many of my assassins on a regular basis. I'm starting to run out." She says teasingly, not caring in the least that she's standing on the corpse of her fellow assassin. "I'm getting tired of sending out Babette to collect more recruits, she gets tired too, ya know."
"I don't care. If you want to stop losing people, stop sending them after me."
"But that just wouldn't do, we can't lose our reputation of never giving up or refusing a contract. I hope you understand how much that would ruin our business." She emphasizes this with an uncaring kick to the balls for the one assassin still alive.
"Well don't get your hopes up, your success rate on this mission must be somewhere at the bottom of the Dark Brotherhood's records. I think it would be a historic moment were someone to share this information with the public." The cloaked man lets the words drift out while kneeling down to poke at the skin of one of the corpses. They were feet from each other now, the smell of blood covering them both.
"Well, I hope to rectify this mistake as soon as possible" She gives an almost friendly smile, to an observer, the conversation would appear casual – without the corpses at least.
"I hope you try." The man says, letting his unseen smile show on his voice.
She gets within a foot of him and pushes his hood off, before putting her lips to his ear.
"My name is Ayem, and I am your executioner."
A/N: FIRST CLIFFHANGER, SUCK IT!
