Shakes my good pal, I have to say we're doing quite a good job at this.
And by that you mean?
Updating this, I'm terrible at actually updating things!
That doesn't make sense, I do all the writing. All you do is bitch at me if the chapter is done then edit it!
Life is good Shakes. Life is good.
Whatever, let me do a disclaimer: We do not own any of the plot or characters from Oblivion/Skyrim, we do however own any and all OCs you'll see in this story.
Do enjoy the chapter folks!
Descent into Darkness:
Chapter 3: History Lessons
Arlia walked into the sanctuary, head held high. She'd successfully carried out her first contract for The Dark Brotherhood. Telaendril met her right outside of Ocheeva's study and her eyes lit up. "Sister!" She exclaimed, "Returning from your first contract? How did it go?"
"It went very well," said Arlia, a sense of pride filled the air around her.
"Well let me be the first to congratulate you on a job well done."
"Umm well thank you, sister," Arlia stumbled over the words. She was not yet accustomed to the whole "family" idea yet. It would take some time to adjust. She continued down the corridor toward Vicente's study. She pushed the large wooden doors open to find Vicente sitting in a chair at the table, reading a book. Upon hearing the doors open, he looked away from his book and looked up to see Arlia in the doorway.
A smile lit up his face as he said, "So you've returned? I take it that Gaston Tissaud is dead then."
"Indeed he is," she said haughtily. Vicente shut the book and set it down on the table. Arlia stepped towards him as he reached for something on his belt. He pulled up a coinpurse and held it out before her.
"Your reward for the contract," he said, "Two hundred and fifty gold pieces." Arlia smiled as took the coin-purse Vicente, the gold coins jingling within it. "You must be weary, dear sister. 'Tis a long journey to the Imperial City. Take some time to rest and recover. Then, we will discuss more work for you." Arlia nodded.
"Thank you, brother," she said as she left the study. She walked back up the corridor, heading for the sleeping quarters. She felt as if she had earned some time to relax.
DARKNESS
It had been two days since Arlia had completed the contract and the news had spread rapidly through the sanctuary. Disposing of a pirate captain was no simple task, and her new family members were praising her for her success.
Arlia had started to acclimate to her new life and her new family. Telaendril had taken a liking to her and the two often practiced archery together. They pushed open the doors and walked into the training room together to see the usual scene. Gogron stood before one of the wooden dummies, smashing it to pieces with his warhammer. He truly was a fearsome Orc. He swung the hammer with such ease that it seemed weightless in his hands.
Wooden dummies filled the left side of the room, along with several weapon racks filled with various armaments. On the left side of the room were several archery targets, which Arlia and Telaendril had used many times these past few days. They lined up next to each other and drew their bows. Telaendril was, more or less, on equal ground with Arlia in terms of archery.
They both fired several arrows at their respective targets, each one hitting very close to the center. The two women stopped as they heard clapping behind them, they turned to see Vicente, a large smile on his face.
"That's some fine shooting, dear sisters," he said, "Truly, you two are amongst the finest archers in Cyrodiil."
"Thank you, brother," said Telaendril.
"The Brotherhood is truly lucky to have you and your abilities," he said. They all paused awkwardly for a moment, the silence cut short by the sound of splintering wood. Gogron destroying another dummy. "Arlia," said Vicente, "Would you care to join me in my study? I feel there are some things we need to discuss."
"Certainly," she said. Vicente turned and exited the room, Arlia following close behind. The turned towards Ocheeva's study and turned down the corridor. The stepped down the stairs and entered his study, taking seats at the table.
"Dear sister," he said, "Do you know the origins of our Family?"
"No. In fact, I know very little about the Brotherhood as a whole."
"Yet you accepted an invitation to join us?" Arlia shrugged.
"Based on what Lucien told me, this was the place for me. I've been told I have a talent for taking lives, and The Brotherhood seemed to appreciate that talent."
"And we do. You are a natural killer, but there is much more to our organization than simply taking lives. Our history runs far deeper than what some realize."
"And that's why you called me here?"
"Yes. You see, we like our assassins to be well-informed of our Family's ordeals. Past, present, and future. As a Family, we have certain rules and guidelines in place, so as to maintain order within ourselves."
"Such as?" Vicente had piqued Arlia's interest.
"The Five Tenets. I'm actually quite surprised that Lucien did not recite them to you upon recruitment. They are as follows. Tenet one: Never dishonor the Night Mother. To do so is to invoke The Wrath of Sithis. Tenet two: Never betray the Dark Brotherhood or its secrets. To do so is to invoke The Wrath of Sithis. Tenet three: Never disobey or refuse to carry out an order from a Dark Brotherhood superior. To do so is to invoke The Wrath of Sithis. Tenet four: Never steal the possessions of a Dark Brother or sister. To do so is to invoke the wrath of Sithis. And Tenet five: Never kill a Dark Brother or Sister. To do so is to invoke the wrath of Sithis." Arlia let all of that information sink in for a moment. The rules seemed simple enough. There was just one thing she didn't understand.
"Who exactly is Sithis?" She asked, "I understand that he is something of a deity to The Brotherhood, but what is he? A daedra?"
"He is no daedra. Describing Sithis is like describing for you the vastness of a starless sky, the cold of winter, or the darkness of shadow. Sithis is all of those things. But at the same time, He is nothing at all. He is you and he is me. He is simply The Void." There was a moment of silence as Arlia processed these words.
"And what is His part in the grand scheme of things? Why do we kill for Him?"
"He is appeased by death. It was his Union with the Night Mother, our Unholy Matron, which brought about the birth of our Family. Many years ago, Sithis visited a Dunmer woman, who bore Him five children. Not long after their births, the woman began to hear a voice within her head. The voice of Sithis, calling for her to send Hid children into The Void. She sacrificed her children, reuniting them with their father. When the others in her town discovered what had transpired, they razed her home to the ground. It was this action that created the Night Mother. Some years later, a man heard a voice in his head, much like when the Night Mother had heard Sithis. He followed the voice to her tomb and it was there that the first Listener was created. From that, The Dark Brotherhood was born, each and every one of us products of their union. All children of the Night Mother and Dread Father, Sithis."
"Listener?" She asked.
"Yes. You've already encountered Lucien, who acts as Speaker. There are three other Speakers besides him. There is but one Listener. These Family Members are the Black Hand, an inner circle comprised of the best assassins in the Brotherhood. Each Speaker represents a finger and the Listener represents the thumb. As with the original Listener, all of them speak directly to the Night Mother. She relays to them the will of Sithis, a contract. The Listener will then relay this information to a Speaker. The Speaker will contact the client, collect payment for the contract, and see to it that the contract is fulfilled by an assassin."
"And the Night Mother is the one people pray to when performing the Blac Sacrament?" She asked. This, she had heard of before. The Black Sacrament was a ritual performed by one wishing to contact the Dark Brotherhood. In order to perform the ritual, one must create an effigy of the intended target, which involved using actual body parts. Namely, the head, bones, heart, and flesh. The effigy must be encircled in candles, and a dagger is to be rubbed with Nightshade petals. The invoker must then proceed to stab the effigy with the dagger while pleading, 'Sweet Mother, sweet Mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear.'
"Precisely," Vicente answered, "The client performs the Black Sacrament and the Night Mother hears their pleas."
"I never knew that there was so much involved in this business," said Arlia.
"Does it unnerve you?"
"Certainly not. If anything, I feel enlightened. I'm glad to have learned these things. It's given me a better understanding of what we do and why we do it."
"I'm glad to hear that, sister. I can see now why Lucien took a liking to you. He is a great assassin. One if the best I've ever seen. I remember when he became Speaker."
"When he became Speaker? Just how long have you served the Brotherhood?"
"It's been well over two hundred years now."
"Two hundred? Just how old are you?"
"Now that's a good question," he chuckled, "I seem to have lost track. If I were to guess, I would say around 430." Arlia stared at him in shock and disbelief. "Yes, I've seen much in my long years. I've seen men rise to power, only to have it all slip away. Seen men struggle for life, only to have it ripped away. Such is the fragility of life. Any moment may be your last."
"Vicente," she said, filled with curiosity, "Would you mind telling me of how you came to be a vampire?"
"Certainly, dear sister. I was stricken with vampirism nearly 400 years ago during an expedition into the ashlands of Vvardenfell..." Vicente's voice trailed away as he recounted the events of that night.
Darkness
Vicente and his party drudged on through the ashlands. The five Bretons were growing weary and would soon need to find a place to camp for the night. Mael walked beside Vicente, his long brown hair tied back, sweat streaming down his face. "Are you alright, Mael?" He asked.
"I'm fine," he replied, "Just wishing we'd stop for a rest. I'm exhausted."
"We all are," he said, "I'm sure Blaise will tell us to stop soon." Blaise was the party leader, a tall man with short blonde hair. They'd set out into the ashlands - a dry, inhospitable wasteland - with the intent of learning more about the natural flora and fauna of Morrowind. Their expedition hadn't learned more than they already knew. Vvardenfell had
very few natural crops, highly-adapted to the harsh environment.
"Alright, boys!" Blaise shouted, "let's find a place to set up camp for the night. Keep an eye out for those damned Nix-Hounds! Don't let them sneak up on us again!" The party sighed in relief as they walked into a small clearing, devoid of the stone obelisks that littered this land. The ash beneath their feet, they began unloading their tents and setting them up. In a short while, the group had their camp set up and had a fire going.
"As if this damned place wasn't hot enough," said Tristyn, as he pulled off his leather cuirass, revealing his muscular physique.
"Well, we need the fire if we plan on eating tonight," said Uthard, as he pulled some raw meat from his pack, "that is, unless you prefer raw cliff racer." Cliff racer meat was sour and bitter as it was, but it was what they've mainly been eating during the trip. Awful creatures they were, descending from the skies to swarm travelers. They resemble great lizards with wings and fearsome claws and teeth. They flew high above them in the sky, waiting and watching. The group had managed to take down many cliff racers in their travels and had learned to survive by eating their meat.
Uthard began roasting the meat on a spit over the fire while the others in the party surrounded the fire. Vicente couldn't shake this feeling of uneasiness. As if they were being watched. He gazed out at the wasteland around them, the large stone obelisks going on for miles.
"Something wrong, Vicente?" Asked Tristyn.
"It's nothing," he said, "just daydreaming." After forcing down yet another meal, the party retired to their tents. Vicente took first watch, taking care to mind their surroundings. He still had that strange feeling, as if something were creeping up on them. This barren wasteland, the perfect place for something bad to happen. Suddenly, ash began to fall from the sky. Another deposit from the great volcano. Ash storms were common here, happening nearly every day. Vicente sat in silence as the storm continued, but was startled by movement behind him.He unsheathed his sword and readied himself for whatever it may be.
"You're a little jumpy tonight, eh?" Blaise's voice resonated in the darkness. Vicente relaxed and sheathed his sword as Blaise knelt down next to fire, stoking it back to life."What's got you so worked up?" He asked.
"Nothing. Nothing at all."
"Don't lie to me. I can see right through you. You've been on edge since we stopped to make camp." Vicente sighed.
"I just feel as if we're being watched," he said.
"Well, of course we are. There's cliff racers and Nix-Hounds all over this place. Who's to say they aren't ready to swoop in and attack?"
"It's not that. It's something much more worrisome. Something much worse than them." Blaise rose to his feet and looked Vicente in the eyes.
"What do you mean?" Suddenly, Blaise grunted in pain as the blade of a sword burst through his chest, spraying blood onto Vicente. Blaise coughed and spit up some blood as the blade was withdrawn. He fell to the ground, blood draining from his lifeless body.
"What in Oblivion?!" Shouted Vicente, waking the other party members. They all rose from their bedrolls and drew their swords.Tristyn rushed towards Vicente to see Blaise dead on the ground.
"What happened?!" He shouted.
"I've got no idea! I didn't even see who it was!" Mael and Uthard rushed to join their allies, only to have their path blocked.
"Who the hell are you?" Asked Uthard. The man, a Dunmer, stared them down. Red eyes filled with an insatiable hunger. He wore a dark cloak and had his orange hair tied back. He had pale gray skin and his facial expression was locked in a stern frown. He lunged at the men, dagger in hand. Before they could react, their throats were slit and they fell to the ground. Tristyn yelled out in rage as he rushed towards the Dark Elf, broadsword in tow. An Imperial woman emerged from the shadows and tackled Tristyn, bringing him to the ground. For such a small woman, she had incredible strength. Enough to bring Tristyn down with ease.She straddled him and brandished her dagger.
Tristyn's eyes lit up with fear as the dagger gleamed in the light of the flames. She smiled, revealing large, vicious fangs. Her blood red eyes filled with anticipation. Her pale white skin, contrasting her black cloak. Fast as lightning, she brought the blade down into his chest, right where his heart lay. Tristyn grunted in pain and took his last breath as the woman dismounted, turning her attention to Vicente.
Vicente trembled in fear as the duo slowly approached him. He regained his composure and lunged forward, only to have the woman dodge his attack. Vicente swung at the Dunmer, barely missing his mark. The Dunmer swung his dagger, only to have Vicente parry the blow. "Well," the Dunmer said," that's quite impressive." Vicente turned and made a swing for the Imperial, which she parried with her dagger. Vicente's arm was caught by the Dunmer, who quickly disarmed him, flinging his sword across the camp. They were so fast and strong that Vicente had a hard time keeping up. The Dunmer lunged at Vicente. Vicente quickly sidestepped and drew a dagger from his belt. He thrust wildly, his blow connecting. The dagger jammed into his back, the man fell face forward into the ash. Vicente looked down at his fallen foe, lying lifeless in the ground.
"Alvos!" The woman shouted. She looked down at the corpse of her fallen companion. She snarled at Vicente, "You bastard!"
She was about to lunge, when suddenly, a man's loud, booming voice rang out from the darkness, "Cinda! Wait!" A tall, Nord man emerged from the shadows. He had short, blonde hair and wore a black headband as well as a dark cloak. He had pale white skin and blood red eyes, just as the other two did.
"Alik," she said, which was likely the man's name, "Why stop?"
"This one's mine," he said with a smile, his large fangs striking fear into Vicente. Vicente turned and ran, hoping to escape death. He dodged the obelisks, ash falling from the sky. He kept running until he came to cave and he rushed inside. It was so dark within the cave that he could hardly see. He couldn't hear anything besides his own labored breaths and the pounding of his heart within his chest. Just then, he heard man's deep, evil laughter. Vicente felt a hand grasp his throat and squeeze, cutting off his breathing.
Vicente kicked and struggled as he was lifted off the ground, but it was no use. His attacker was far too strong."P-please," he managed to croak out a single word.
The man chuckled."Please?" He said in a loud, booming voice. Alik chuckled and Vicente heard Cinda laugh. They had made it to the cave, but how? He had run faster than he ever had in his entire life. Vicente felt a sharp pain in his neck as his flesh was punctured. He flailed about furiously, trying to escape his attacker's grip. He felt what seemed like sucking on the open wound and soon his strength faded. He fell to the ground and began to fade into unconsciousness.
"Why did you do that?" He heard Cinda ask.
"There was something different about that one," Alik said, "He was bent on survival. Taking down one of our kind is no easy feat. As a reward, he will now join our ranks as a hunter of the night." Vicente drifted away into what felt like death.
DARKNESS
"I hunted in secrecy for nearly 200 years before the Dark Brotherhood found me. They accepted me for what I am and even value my... Unique talents." Vicente paused to draw breath. It had been many years since he had told that story. Arlia was filled with curiosity as well as desire. The people in his story had completely eradicated his party. The way he described their immense speed and strength made Arlia want to feel that power for herself.
"Vicente," she said, "Would you be willing to share this dark gift?" He shot Arlia a quizzical look. Not many are so eager to join the ranks of the undead.
"While it is true that I may bestow this gift unto any that I see fit," he said, "I do not believe you are ready for it." Arlia furrowed her brow.
"Not ready?" She asked, her voice filled with venom.
"Indeed. To become a hunter of the night is no small task. Some even consider it a burden. To effectively wield the power that it brings, one must have a level head and a cool mind. Something that I sense you lack." Arlia snarled and rose from her seat.
"You know nothing!" She shouted. Vicente raised an eyebrow and chuckled lightly at her outburst.
"But I do, dear sister. This very reaction simply serves to strengthen my theory. You let your anger control you." Arlia glared at Vicente, a fiery rage burning in her eyes. She growled and stormed out of the room, leaving Vicente alone. "Such a pity," he thought to himself, "That girl has such great potential. If only she wouldn't allow her emotions to control her. She could be unstoppable."