A Nord Fallen
Chapter Ten
Family
Judging by how cold it was, Comjul assumed he was north somewhere. So if he went south, he was bound to find a road.
Sure enough, a few hours into the walk he found Morthal. Falkreath was near Morthal. She had said Falkreath. Right? The cold was getting to him, causing his teeth to chatter.
He stuck to the roads, not really having any problems. He found Falkreath by simply following the road signs that had been so conveniently placed, so long ago that the words were faded. He headed west a little ways before he found what appeared to be a small cliff.
This was a strange place for a cliff. He slid down and looked under the cliff. He walked over to it and realizes it was more of a big hill. Once he reached the bottom, he nodded happily. There was a door.
The door was black and had a skeleton and a large skull on it. Upon closer examination the disembodied skull sported an encircled handprint that appeared to be painted in blood. It gave Comjul the chills. It seemed to almost breathe.
He began to wonder if perhaps this wasn't the best choice. He approached cautiously. A voice in his head, one that didn't belong there, suddenly invaded his senses. It wasn't loud, but somehow that made it more threatening "What, is the music, of life?"
The music of life? What insanity was this?! He shook his head. He would have none of this. Then he remembered.
"Silence, my brother." Comjul whispered softly, uncertainly. He cringed when he realized he sounded like the whelp he once was, when he was in training with the Stormcloaks.
"Welcome home." The door hissed and slid open of its own accord. He stepped in cautiously. The inside looked like a old nord crypt but it was better lit. He moved slowly, silently. The door closed as fast as it had opened behind him.
He rounded the corner, observing that a bench sat by the left wall and he peered into a room, seeing the woman from the shack inside it. She looked at him immediately.
"You think you can be quiet in that? You're not fooling anyone." She said with a laugh
He didn't respond but approached without worry of noise. "I hope you found the place all right." She continued lazily
"Odd place for a cliff. So what now?" He responded.
She seamed to smile. "Well you start your new life in the Dark Brotherhood. Your part of the family after all. This, as you can see, is our sanctuary. Your new home. So get comfortable. I'm Astrid, by the way."
He didn't know what to say. He was off by how friendly the assassin was. This seemed legitimate.
"Mmmm...yes the silence suites you, gives you an air of mystery. Now get to know your new family. Oh and one last thing, the armor of the Dark Brotherhood. May it serve you well in all your...endeavors." She said slyly, handing him a set of red and black armor. "I don't have any contracts for you right now."
She wandered
off. He continued into the sanctuary.
"Again! Do the part where he tries to buy you some candy." He overheard as he approached a group. A young girl, maybe twelve winters, stood in the middle of a circle made up of a Nord, Breton, Dunmer, Argonian, and a Redguard.
"Okay, okay. Wait. Here we go." The young girl said, then changed her tone, as if to mimic an old man. "Ooh, you are such a pretty little girl. Would the sweetie like a sweetie? Oh yes, how about some chocolate?" She went to her own voice. "Oh yes, please, kind sir. My mama and papa left me all alone, and I'm so very hungry. I know a shortcut to the candy shop. Through this alley." Then back to the mimicking voice. "Oh yeah, very good. Very good. My it is dark down here. Oh, but you are so beautiful. Such a lovely smile. Your teeth... your teeth! No! Aggghh!"
The dark elf said "Oh Babette, but you are so wicked."
"What about you, Festus? How did that last contract turn out?" The Redguard asked.
"Oh, yes, please, old man. Regale us with your tales of wizardry..." the Nord spat, rolling his eyes.
The old Breton sighed. "Ah, the young and stupid. Always mocking the experienced and brilliant. My contract went very well, I'll have you know. Tried a new spell. Little something I've been working on in my spare time. Came close to turning that priest inside out. Damned messy."
The dark elf seemed to smile. "And what of your latest, Arnbjorn. Something about a Kahjiit? Merchant was it?"
"Oh, a big doggy chasing a little kitty! How adorable!" The young girl said mockingly, her laugh giving Comjul chills.
The others laughed loudly.
The Nord snorted out. "I am not adorable, it was not funny, and he wasn't a merchant. He was a Kahjiit monk, a master of the Whispering Fang style. But now he's dead... and I have a new loincloth."
They all laughed again, then parted.
Comjul set out to find somewhere to change. He was almost thankful to be getting out of the Thieves Guild armor.
The armor fit tightly, which he was partly thankful for and a little annoyed with, at the same time. His smallclothes dug into him in a very uncomfortable manner almost instantly, but being so tight, it could fit under pretty much everything.
He wandered around the sanctuary, taking it all in. Soon he knew the Nords name was Arnbjorn and he was a werewolf, married to Astrid.
He discovered that Babette, the young girl from before, was a three hundred year old vampire.
The Dark Elf, Gabriella seemed to be a thinker, similar to himself. He liked her. Too bad she was a Dunmer. He might have been interested otherwise.
The Breton, Festus Krex, was a cranky old mage.
Veezara was a shadow skulker and seemed to know his stuff.
And the Redguard, Nazir, seemed to be the only one who understood the situation. As Comjul approached, he said. "So you're the newest member of our dwindling, dysfunctional family. I've heard quite a bit about you." He said with raised eyebrows.
He kept silent. Didn't really want to tell to much about himself.
"Ah the mysterious type. That may work for your targets, but I'm not so easily impressed." The man laughed coldly. "Did Astrid send you my way?" Comjul nodded.
"Did she now? Well I do have some contracts that I haven't had time to complete quite yet. These aren't exactly glamorous, don't pay much either. But they will keep you busy."
"Okay. So who's going to die?" Comjul asked quietly.
"Narfi, a beggar in Ivarstead. An ex-miller Ennodius Papius at Angas mill, and Beitild, a mine boss in Dawnstar." Nazir said, listing them quickly.
"Dead." Comjul said flatly, heading to a bed. He'd set out early the next day.