What to bring, what to bring? Mortem had been staring into her personal weapon's chest for Sithis knows how long now, and she was still unsure as to what to bring.
"My dear, dear Mortem, you still stare so intently into your chest of murder?" Cicero's high pitched voice questioned, making the woman tense at the sudden intrusion.
"It's a hard decision," she pouted, turning her head to look at him and invite him over to her side, "This will more than likely be my last contract for a while, and I don't know in which way to kill."
Cicero put a gloved finger to his lips and hummed as he looked over all of her weapons. Mortem was skilled in all trades, whether it be two handed or one handed, but one handed was her favorite.
"If this is one kill," Cicero started, his voice sounding normal, "Why not pull an act of betrayal, my Imperial beauty? It's always been my Sister's favorite!"
The Imperial woman blinked at her Brother a couple times before a smile spread across her face. Grasping the man's face in her hands, she planted a kiss on his lips before letting him go with a cackle. "You are an evil fool, do you know that?"
Cicero was in shock for a few seconds but soon came around and laughed with his Sister. He danced around at her joy, danced like he always did, and Mortem quickly started to pack for their long journey. She was already wearing her Dark Brotherhood armor, but packed another set just in case, as well as some civilian clothes for her act.
When the redheaded fool saw Mortem tucking her Daedric dagger away and a Daedric bow on her back, he raised an eyebrow. "My dear Sister is taking such powerful weapons?"
"Skyrim is more dangerous than Cyrodiil, Cicero."
"Then be safe, Mistress of Sithis."
Mortem paused at that, stopping herself mid-stride. It had been a long time since the mad fool had called her that, a very long time indeed. The name never brought up good memories; only ones of betrayal, blood, and insanity.
"I promise to be safe, Keeper. I'll be safe to return back to you."
Mortem hurried out of the room, hearing Cicero follow her until the Night Mother called his attention. The Imperial assassin traveled down the stairs leading to the large open area, where her comrades were saying a farewell to Astrid and the Dragonborn. Mortem stayed back until most of them had left, though rather impatiently. Nazir and Babette were the last to depart, and the two stopped in front of her as well.
"Have a safe trip Mortem," Babette said cheerily, giving her a smile, "You have a long trek ahead of you."
"She'll more than likely behead anything that crosses her path," Nazir joked, smiling at her.
"Thank you," the redhead replied, slightly bewildered. They nodded to her and walked off, leaving her to her business while they went back to theirs. A ghost of a smile lit up the woman's face, though it was hidden behind her mask and cowl.
"There you are Sister," Astrid announced, causing Rovaan to turn around and look at her, "Are you ready for this trip?"
"Of course, my dagger itches for blood."
"Then we'll be on our way. Dragonborn, watch and take notes on our technique."
"Yes Astrid," the Nord said obediently, pulling up his own mask.
Astrid's manner of kill was standard at best. She relished in the feeling of the kill, but in Mortem's mind, she rushed it. When the Brotherhood had been strong and overflowed with contracts, her Siblings had still taken their time with their kills. They stalked like a wild cat, hunted their prey down until it was time to strike. The female Nord only sighted her bow and sent a powerful arrow into his heart. She cackled as he fell, but it didn't feel like enough.
Rovaan's thoughts were the along the same line, though he didn't share it with either female. After having slit the throats of many a bandit, the Dragonborn had figured that he liked to get close and personal so he could see the light drain from their eyes. Astrid was too impersonal. It almost seemed like a crime.
Rovaan had yet to see Mortem's style, but he had a feeling she felt the same way. He had seen the way she had looked at him after he had butchered those three people in the shack; she was more than happy at what he had shown her. He still wasn't sure what her statement the day before had meant, about being a part of Skyrim's Brotherhood, but she had invited him. So that meant something.
It took them a full day to reach Windhelm, the second out of three assassinations they were all to perform. By the time they reached the cold city, night was already starting to descend. It was good for the kill.
They were let inside without a problem, seeing as none of them were the Dunmer that the city hated so much, and as soon as they were through the gates, Mortem's target was in sight. The man, known as Rolff Stone-Fist, was standing not too far away, his harsh and drunken words aimed at a Dunmer.
"Such small minded people deserve the Void," Astrid clucked, shaking her cowl covered head, "How do you plan to do this, Mortem?"
"In my own way, Astrid," the redhead replied simply, making the blonde narrow her eyes.
Mortem's red eyes were following her target, watching as he entered the Inn right in front of them. He was already drunk, but kept going back for more. Knowing Nords, this was going to be too easy.
"Follow him and find yourselves a good seat for the show," the Imperial purred, "I'll join you in a moment."
The two Nords sent each other questioning glances but followed her instructions, following the man into the Hall where he was pressed against the bar, downing a drink. Grabbing a table not too far away, they watched him with trained eyes.
"What do you think Mortem's doing?"
"I'm not quite sure," Astrid replied, flagging down a waitress and ordering herself a drink, "but I have a feeling we might be here for a while. Make yourself comfortable."
The two assassin's continued to watch Rolff as he drank and talked to his buddies about the Dunmer scum that resided in their city. Just as Rovaan was getting tired of his talk, another person entered through the door dramatically, causing everyone to turn and stare.
And there was Mortem, though it took the Dragonborn a second to let that register. She was no longer in her armor, no longer hiding her identity, and no longer hiding much to the imagination.
Instead, she was dressed in a small, red corset that barely reached her belly button and was made tight enough to push her breasts far up her chest. For pants she was wearing black leather so tight it looked like it had been painted on. Rovaan thought his armor had been tight until he saw her pants. On her hip, blending with the black, was her dagger.
Something that pulled off the whole look was her cascading hair. It had been unbound from the braid and rested along her back like silky water. As Mortem closed the door behind her, the red swayed behind her in time with her hips.
Every man's eye was still on her as she walked close to the bar. Mortem chanced a glance at her comrades before her attention turned to the bar.
"Your best mead, please," she purred softly, flipping some of her hair for effect. The woman nodded and set a bottle on the counter. Before Mortem could even pull out the coin, the gold was already on the counter.
"That'll be my treat, love," Rolff slurred, giving her a look.
While the redhead thanked him kindly, Rovaan leaned in towards Astrid. "What exactly does she have planned?"
"While I'm not sure of all the details," Astrid remarked through a sip of ale, "I believe I know her plans."
When she was silent for a while, Rovaan sighed. He really had to ask her?
"And that would be?"
"Betrayal," the blonde said simply, her smirk wide, "She'll gain the drunken idiots trust, bring him down to his most vulnerable, then kill him."
For almost an hour, the two assassins watched as Mortem worked her charm on Rolff, showing a side of her neither of them had ever seen before. She seemed so happy, innocent, and enthusiastic. And every now and again, Astrid would point out little things in her act that was good for a starting assassin to know, things Rovaan should keep in mind for future reference.
After that hour, however, Rolff had had too much to drink and suggested that the two of them go to a room. Mortem said she would and passed by their table, tripping over herself and giggling loudly.
"Follow us to see my kill," she said quickly under her breathe before excusing herself loudly. Rolff helped her, seeing as she was having a hard time. However, Rovaan's eyes spotted how close her hand was rested against her blade.
"Let's go see how she'll end this, shall we?"
Nodding, the man got up and followed after Astrid, making sure he knew where his blade was in case this got a little out of hand. Not that he doubted the Imperial woman, but he was being cautious.
As Mortem closed the door behind the couple, she could hear her Siblings following behind her and acted quickly, quicker than the dumb Nord could even imagine. Before he even laid a hand on her, her dagger was in her hand, ready with the paralytic poison, and it grazed across his hand, stopping him mid motion to grab her ass.
"Ah, ah, ah, I don't think so," Mortem sang, letting a chuckle trail off her tongue after. The door creaked, revealing Rovaan and Astrid, which the redhead welcomed.
"That took a little while, didn't it?" the blonde inquired, circling around the immobile man.
"I like to cherish watching the realization reach their eyes," Mortem said softly, wistfully, as she stepped closer to the Nord, watching what she had just described. His dark beady eyes grew wide, taking in the looks of the people with her and knowing he was in trouble. If his mouth had been able to move, he would have been begging for his life.
"Did you hear that the Brotherhood was growing stronger?" Mortem asked, brushing a hand down his chest, tilting her head to the side in an innocent gesture while her red eyes stared into his, "Did you think that someone would not ask a contract of you?"
Mortem wiped the excess poison on his shirt, showing him how well the Daedric blade shone, glowing and beating like it was alive. In a way, it was. It wanted blood, and by Oblivion, so did Mortem. Wanted to see his blood spill so bad she could smell it under his skin.
"You thought yourself a hero, and many of your sick Nords thought the same. Think of the terror that will go through them all when they find you in a pool of your own blood!"
She cut his face then, a wound deep enough to keep a steady flow of blood pumping. Rolff was able to let a muffled scream out at the pain, but that was it. Mortem grinned at him, nothing like the sweet smile he had seen earlier. No, it was more like a crazed lift of the lip, something you saw from a psycho about to chop you to pieces.
Mortem sliced an identical cut on the other side of his face, reveling in his pained screams as the blood flowed. It had been too long since she had taken a life, so long that she wanted to cherish it, but too long that she was almost certain he'd be dead in moments.
Rovaan watched the redhead with a sick fascination, finding himself just as excited as she was with the blood mixed with the fear. He could taste it all in the air, and by Sithis, did it taste good. He actually let his tongue lick across his lips.
"Or maybe," Mortem proposed, putting the point of the dagger to her bottom lip like she was contemplating, "Maybe I'll let you live so you can spread word of our terror, just like you spread hate to the Dunmer. Oh, word would certainly travel faster that way!"
Her exclamation echoed in the small room, hitting everyone's ears and lingering like the smell of the room. Mortem saw Rolff's eyes fill with relief and a hint of cockiness—though that was his personality—and it made Mortem's idea all the more better.
"Too bad your soul is promised to Sithis," Mortem growled, slicing into the man's throat before he even had a chance to register what was happening. His blood squirted out, hitting mostly Mortem though it sprayed off to the side a little. His body sagged with death as the poison finally wore off, falling to the floor to join his fresh blood. Even better, his eyes were wide open, slowly dulling, though the Imperial could still see that thread of hope. Absolutely perfect!
"Mmm, that's sure to tide me over," Mortem sighed lowly, almost as if she'd just made love. Her bloodied face turned to the two Nord's and she smiled through it all.
"Now I understand why you were so popular in the Brotherhood," Astrid noted, though she didn't sound all that happy about it. Probably upset about being upped on her target in front of the newbie.
"It's a gift," Mortem replied with a smirk, knowing it would only darken the woman's mood. She was correct, watching in joy as Astrid's eyes darkened in anger, close to fury. Nothing like pissing off the boss.
"Now that your contract is done, you need to go back to the Sanctuary."
"I'm missing the Dragonborn's kill?" Mortem questioned and Rovaan glared at her. Damn it, he had a name. And she didn't have to say that he was the Dragonborn when they were around preying eyes and ears.
"I don't need you there. I'm the one that hasn't seen his skill, so back to the Sanctuary with you."
Usually, the redhead would have argued, but seeing that she had already royally pissed off the Nord, she thought it best not to continue. So, with a shrug of her shoulders while she wiped away the blood on her face, she agreed.
"Fine, you two head out and I'll see you once you get back home. Happy hunting."