Skyrim: Legend of the Dovahkiin
Instruction 5
On most nights, Indaryn, manager of the Black-Briar Meadery, would end his hard day of work by heading to the Bee and Barb to drink with friends. After getting just the right amount of shit-faced, he would then down to the local whorehouse to sample the establishment's newest 'wares' before finally heading back to his home above the meadery. But tonight, instead of being piss drunk laying in a soft bed surrounded by beautiful young women of questionable nature, he was quickly making his way to his 'private office' just outside the city near the docks to meet with his contact.
The rivalry between the Black-Briars and the Silver-Bloods was common knowledge to the people of Skyrim. In public, the two families put on false smiles and wrote of their rivalry as mere friendly competition, but the reality of the feud was far more sinister than anyone could imagine. Violence was the daily order of things, and deaths were a common occurrence among the followers of either clan. But the worst of the punishments were dealt out to defectors, spies and turncoats, all of whom Indaryn knew suffered fates far worse than simple torture.
Indeed he had heard of—and witnessed—the way Maven and the Silver-Bloods would deal with those who defied them. Sacrifices to Hagravens and Daedric Princes, being fed alive to giant spiders, people being locked inside Draugr infested ruins, the list went on. Indaryn shuddered as he remembered the mutilated and maimed corpses of what were once people. It was a fate he wouldn't wish upon his worst enemy, and one he was determined to avoid.
The Dunmer quickly made his way through the doors of his private building and promptly headed for his office. There, he was greeted by his contact, a Nord by the name of Dreng. Dreng was a typical Nord, tall, long blonde hair with blue eyes and thick with muscle. He wore simple fur and leather armor covered with a dark cloak and carried a steel sword that hung on his waist.
The Nord gave the Dunmer an incredulous look. "What is the meaning of this, Indaryn? Why have you called me all the way to fucking Riften? Do you know what would happen if anyone found out I was working for the Silver-Bloods? If they saw us together!?"
Indaryn sat at his desk and ran a hand through his hair. "I am fully aware of the consequences of our being seen, but it was a necessary risk. The couriers I dispatched to send you my correspondence have vanished, and the carrier birds have suddenly disappeared. This was the only way you and I could communicate."
"That's what worries me," the Nord said as he nervously looked around the room. "The letter you sent calling for me to meet you here arrived without a hitch, yet all the others have simply vanished. You sure no one knows we're here?"
Indaryn waved the Nord off. "Maven has a good majority of her mercenaries and spies scattered across Skyrim searching for someone at the request of that fool Hemming. I also have my people running interference for me back inside the city. I highly doubt she has any form of knowledge about this little meeting of ours."
Assurances aside, Dreng however was still not fully convinced. "Even so, this was a mistake. If that bitch Maven finds out about this we're both fucked."
"Calm yourself Dreng, nothing will happen to either of us. As long as we're both careful our alliance will remain hidden from the Black-Briars. Now, out with it. The rumors I've been hearing about the Silver-Bloods, they true?"
The Nord grunted and began to pace the room. "Yeah, it's true. The teams of mercenaries that Thonar sent to intercept Maven's supply wagons were found dead. Obviously Maven is the one Thonar suspects is behind the attacks, but even so, the Silver-Bloods are unsure how they know where the teams will be before they even execute their objective."
Indaryn stroked his bearded chin in thought. "Strange, all the spies Thonar planted in the city are still here. If Maven had exposed them as Silver-Blood spies they'd have already been dealt with by now, and I've yet to see Maul breaking anyone's skull open."
The two conspirators continued their exchange of information for well over an hour. Dreng then informed Indaryn of Thonar's plot to assassinate Maven and her family. Their deaths would create a power vacuum that Thonar and his family would then fill. For his role in the usurp of the Black-Briars, Indaryn would take the position as the active proxy of the Silver-Bloods in Riften.
Indaryn was elated. Finally after all those years of bowing his head to that whore and her spoiled sons he would see them put to a well deserved end, and finally get the respect he deserved. Indaryn couldn't have been happier, but Dreng looked as if he would faint at any moment.
"I don't like this, Indaryn," Dreng muttered, fear creeping into his tone. "It may be nothing, but It feels as if the world itself is bracing, preparing for some kind of cataclysm."
"You're just a bundle of tangled and frayed nerves today, aren't you?" the Elf said as he sat at his desk and poured himself a cup of Cyrodilic brandy. "What're you goin' on about Dreng? Aint no cataclysm happening except this damned war. Be nice if the Stormcloaks and Imperials killed one another a bit faster."
The Nord turned to face the Elf. "Isn't there? Think about it. First Helgen is destroyed by a dragon, then Whiterun is attacked by another, and right after that, the Greybeards called for the Dragonborn. It's just like the old legends I tell you. Alduin, the Harbinger of the end times."
Indaryn merely rolled his crimson eyes at the Nord's ranting and downed the rest of his cup of brandy. "Nothing but superstitious Nord nonsense," he said flatly, rising from his seat. "Come, Dreng. Lets put this meeting behind us. Return to Markarth, and tell Thonar that I merely await his word should he ever need anything."
"Right," Dreng said as the two exited the office room. "I'm getting out of here before something happens," The man looked around nervously. "This whole building feels... wrong. Like someone or something is watching us."
"You stand correct in your suspicion." said an unfamiliar voice.
The two men, now terrified and alert, spun in the voice's direction. Indaryn heard a sound, almost like something being released. Something flew past his head and struck Dreng directly in his eye, burying itself deep in his socket with a wet thunk. The man was dead before he even hit the ground. His heart racing and his mind flying, Indaryn pulled the ebony dagger hidden within his fine robes and charged the man.
He wasn't sure what exactly made him charge the silhouetted man that sat in the far corner of the room, there were a multitude of reasons really, fear being the most dominant of them. But it was also something other than fear, something far more personal. Indaryn had bowed and scraped for half of his life to those wretched Black-Briars, and now, just when his dream of running the city and seeing Maven and her family put to grass was finally within his reach, some lowly assassin shows up to shatter them.
Not while he had a say in it. Not while he still drew breath.
He didn't care if he lost his limbs in the attempt, he would kill this bastard where he stood. He raised the dagger over his head, fully intent on plunging the blade into the man's head with an unbridled fury, when a faded green light flickered from where the man was sitting. All at one, Indaryn felt every part of his body go completely still. His eyes darted around the room, and his brain seemed to be on a sort of overdrive state as he went through any possible conclusions as to what just happened to him.
"You've been paralyzed, in case you were wondering," the silhouetted figure explained as if reading his thoughts. "Cant have you swingin' a blade like that around now can I?"
Indaryn watched as the figure finally rose from his seat in the dark corner and stepped into the light of the private building. The man that stood before him was one he'd never seen in Riften before. Then again, Indaryn never really took the time to remember every face he saw within the city. There were far too many. But the man in front of him had an appearance the Elf would not soon forget.
He wore a mage robe of the blackest material he had ever seen lined with a blood red trim, black leather pants, and dark leather boots and gauntlets. He had long hair the color of ebony that reached his shoulders a dark, well maintained stubble that covered his face. But his most distinctive feature was his eyes, the purest of green Indaryn had ever seen.
"You don't know who I am, Mr. Indaryn. But I am very aware of who you are... and everything you do in your spare time."
Indaryn's eyes went wide with fear. He attempted to speak, and found that his voice did not work.
The mysterious man casually walked up to him, his lips curled in a half smile. "Speaking wont work," he told the Elf. "I modified the spell a bit to keep you from biting your tongue. Cant have you croak on me. Not yet, anyway."
He moved closer then, his face barely a few inches apart from the Elf's. "Maven has some things she'd like to discuss with you."
"You know, I think I understand the attraction of being an adventurer or a treasure hunter," Lydia said, her tone oddly cheerful. "I'm starting to see why people choose this line of work. The booby traps, the undead enemies, the treasures..."
"The big spiders." Spartacus added dryly.
Lydia cast a smirk his way. "That too."
Case in point: The large Frostbite Spider that was slowly scuttling towards them. This was the second giant spider Spartacus had come across in some old crypt, and something told him it wouldn't be the last. The arachnid—as he expected—darted straight at them with an audible hiss. Lydia followed its lead and surged forward to meet it head on. Not the smartest tactic, but it would at least cause the thing to hesitate. Spartacus rolled off to its left flank and drove his swords through its side, twisting the blades before ripping them out. A gush of warm, greenish black blood splattering across his face and chest.
The young Nord fought back the urge purge his stomach, he hated when that happened.
The Spider let out a screech of pain and lashed out with one of its legs. Spartacus easily dodged the blow and countered with an upward swing of his weapon. The Skyforged blade hit home and severed the appendage with little effort. The amputated limb was flung across the room where it landed in a pile of broken pottery, forgotten. The young Nord repeated the feat on two more of its legs until it fell to the floor, thrashing violently in a desperate attempt to pick itself back up.
With a cry of effort, Lydia ended the arachnid with a strong thrust of her sword through its head. The spider shuddered and finally ceased its erratic movements. The two warriors took a moment to catch their breath and ease their hearts.
"Gods I hate spiders," Lydia said, sheathing her sword. "Too many legs."
She looked to her thane, he stared silently at the now dead spider that lay before them, his face thoughtful. "Is something wrong, my Thane?"
Spartacus narrowed his eyes and glanced around the room. "This isn't right."
The Elite's brow knitted together in confusion. "What's not right?
"This," he gestured around the room. "Something just seems... off about this."
"You said the Greybeards sent you here as a final test of sorts," Lydia mused. "And we are inside of an ancient tomb. It's understandable that you're feeling on edge."
"I'm not 'on edge'," Spartacus clarified. "If I had to use a word to describe how I feel, It'd be 'suspicious'."
"Suspicious? Suspicious of what?"
"Of everything we've come across. Think about it," he began to pace as he talked. "The bodies we found when we entered this place, the deactivated traps, and the severe lack of opposition," Spartacus left out the part about the word of power he'd discovered, deciding that it wasn't relevant to his suspicions. "Someone cleared this place out very recently, and judging by what I've seen so far, they were expecting us to come here."
"Or," Lydia began, her fingers on her chin in thought. "They were after the horn. Do you know how much coin someone could make if they sold it to the right person?"
Spartacus hadn't actually thought of that. What his Housecarl said made sense, many would be grave robbers looking to make a fast septim prowled Skyrim, and Ustengrav was a particularly well known burial site. Even with draugr and the other dangers that many of the old crypts held, something like Jurgen's horn would no doubt attract all manner of thieves.
"Maybe," Spartacus agreed. "But something tells me this isn't the work of some two bit thief," he gave a sigh of frustration and started for the tunnel in from of them. "Come on, lets find this horn and leave this place."
The Elite followed close behind. "Of course, my Thane"
The two continued their decent into the old tomb, weapons at the ready, careful of where they stepped, and ever vigilant to their surroundings. Most of the draugrs and other undead had been all but taken care of, but there had been a few times where one would suddenly morph into existence and engage them in battle. It had already happened twice, and the two warriors were determined not to let it happen a third time.
After following the tunnel for a short while, they came upon another portcullis, and, like the others before them, it too had been opened. With a quick glance at one another, they made their way down the straight path, past the large statues that jutted out of the water on either side of the walkway.
As he approached the sarcophagus, Spartacus's heart sank. Two draugr bodies lay dead on the floor, and the horn of Jurgen Windcaller was gone, a letter resting where it once sat. Lydia's face twisted in shock when she saw the horn was missing.
"The horn..." she all but whispered. "It's—"
"Gone," Spartacus finished, passing his Housecarl the letter he'd found.
Lydia opened the letter and quickly went over the contents.
Dragonborn-
I need to speak with you. Urgently.
Rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giants Inn in Riverwood, and I'll meet you.
-A friend
"Riverwood? Is there someone you know in Riverwood, my Thane?"
Spartacus gave a shake of his head, staring angrily at the old sarcophagus with his arms crossed. "No, I don't. The only person I have even limited history with there is the owner of the general goods store, Lucan."
"I know the man. The other Elites and I would often buy and sell at his store. He wasn't as close as Belathor, but he had better stock. If my memory of the man is correct, he never had a history as an adventurer or a grave robber."
"No, he doesn't," Spartacus confirmed, leaning against Jurgen's coffin. Lydia wanted to berate him for such disrespect, but kept quiet. "I don't think any of the people in Riverwood had anything to do with this. No one but the Greybeards knew I was coming here. Whoever took the horn had intimate knowledge about the old monks and their trails. They knew that they would send me here."
Lydia narrowed her eyes at the letter. "So someone was expecting you," her Thane nodded. "Well, now what do we do?"
"We go to Riverwood and find whoever left this letter," Spartacus told her.
The look that set upon her Thane's visage was not encouraging. "And when we find them?"
"I'm going to throttle them for wasting my time."
Another, more serious possibility occurred to her. "What if this is all a trap set by those Black Briar mercenaries?"
Spartacus highly doubted that those fools had anything to do with this, but the possibility of someone leading them into a trap was very real.
"Then we kill them," he said, his voice filled with cold conviction. "Right down to the last man and woman, we'll kill them all."
Well here it is folks, chapter 18 of Legend of the Dovahkiin. This took too long for how short a chapter it is in my opinion, so I apologize for that. Now this chapter is a bit of a "move the story along" kind of deal. The next chapter will deal with the woman Elona (Remember her? If not, please refer to Instruction 2 for details) and how exactly she ties in to all this. Believe me when I say that I've only just begun with this story, and that I have much more planned.
In regards to the beef between the Black Briars and the Silver Bloods, that just HAD to happen. Both families are greedy, arrogant, and think themselves above any kind of retribution. Not to mention that they both want more influence in their respective cities, and Skyrim for that matter. The fact that there's a feud between them shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone. I mean, if you have two wealthy, well known and well connected families vying for control of Skyrim politics, they're BOUND to come into conflict with one another.
Another thing I wanna address is the protagonist, Spartacus. I've gotten some PM's saying that he feels like a guest in his own story and I wanna tell you that there's a reason for that. While Spartacus is indeed the MAIN protagonist of the story, he is also not the only one. The story focuses on ALL parties involved in Spartacus's life and all who will BE involved. Plus, I'm seeing that lots of the readers enjoy the other characters interactions within the story. Don't worry guys, you'll be seeing a lot more of Spartacus.
Lastly, I wanna take the time to thank all of you who have taken the time to read and review the story. You guys make all this writing and thinking and research worth it.
Also, let me know if you see any spelling mistakes so I can fix them. I usually proof read before posting a get Most of the mistakes, but sometimes I DO miss a few.
Well, until the next chapter guys.
~Bang