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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1807593-ShadowScale-a-love-story
Rated: 13+ · Other · Crime/Gangster · #1807593
A few days in the life of a Dark Brotherhood shadowScale...
ShadowScale: A love story.

Incase you are ignorant to the terminology and traditions of Blackmarsh the term ShadowScale is a title given to any Argonian born under the sign of The Shadow.

The Blackmarsh branch of The Dark Brotherhood values these Argonians greatly and believes these Argonians are born closer to Sithis then any other race/sign combination.

The Brotherhood feels that with their birth sign gift for being unseen and the Argonian's natural ability to breath under water a ShadowScales has the potential to become the deadliest and most versatile Assassin this world has ever seen, so as soon as one is born The Brotherhood waste no time in spiriting them away from their parents to be brought up on the teachings of Sithis and the night mother, and to be taught to wield a blade before they even learn to walk.

I am a ShadowScale. I was taken from my family when I was no more than a hatchling and brought up to be a cold methodical killer.

It wasn't as bad as you may think. It's not as if I was denied the comforts and affections of a family. My family just happened to be larger than most and made up of Sithis worshiping assassins from every race and walk of life.

If anything my Dark Family taught me to be more open minded and respectful of other races.

Today I'm 27 years old and I’ve been an active member of the Brotherhood sense I was 15, so I've probably been responsible for more untimely deaths then Skooma addiction. hehehe

Seeing on how today is my hatch day I'm going to treat you to a story you may be familiar with. "The day Faylin Mathers was killed". You should consider this a treat. Not everyone is lucky enough to hear a tail like this without being a member of The Brotherhood.

Another member had botched this job once before, so I knew that this would be tricky being that I already been denied the element of surprise; This job would take all my cunning and subterfuge.

About a week ago I picked up the Dead Drop, and my payment for my last Job under a bridge just south of The Imperial City, then made my way West to Anvil.

There was no hurry, so I made sure to enjoy the small comforts of life Like sleeping at inns when I could, and eating a hearty breakfast before continuing my journey in the mornings.

I don't mind camping so much anymore. the wilderness has become a much safer place ever sense “The Hero of Kvatch” closed all the Oblivion gates, and became the new ruler of Tamriel.

I didn't feel it was incredibly necessary to rush into this job just because as it stood he already knows I’m coming, he's already had plenty of time to prepare for us to try again, so I figured the longer he goes without seeing one of us the calmer he'll become. Perhaps if I wait long enough he'll think we gave up, get too relaxed, and do most of the work for me?

Sigh, I've always been more of an optimist then most of my dark brothers and sisters.
I continued along the way for many days until I finally awoke at The Brina Cross Inn along The Gold Road west of the recently rebuilt Kvatch.

I ate my breakfast and started off again. It didn't take long before i seen it up ahead; the port city of Anvil.
It was about noon when I entered the city. I made my way to the local tavern, ordered a mug of mead, then found a table in the back corner where I could see the door, and watch everyone.

I was only on my 2nd mug when the man I was waiting for finally arrived. He was a RedGuard, and he didn’t seem to enthusiastic about being here. His face was covered in sweat as he nervously made his way toward me with awkward little steps as if he felt I was going to pounce onto him at any moment, and he had the package I’ve come to retrieve tucked deeply against his sweaty arm pit.

"Are you the Argonian I was told to give this too?" he whispered to me. It’s hard to imagine anyone would say no to that question, but I could see he wasn't cut out for this kind of work, so I decided to go easy on him.

I motioned for him to sit down in the chair adjacent to my own at the other side of the table, Then as he slid the package across the wooden surface I laid my hand over his knuckles and hissed "You’re doing fine. This will all be over soon." my words seemed to bring him a little comfort as he sighed.

Then I grabbed the package and looked it over as I heard him inquire "This is it right? My debt is repaid?"
I untied the hemp rope and unfolded the cloth just enough to see that all the provisions needed to fulfill this contract were accounted for, then I gave him a warm smile, and retorted. "Yes, you have honored your part of the pact, and you may return to your life as the castle smith."

I folded the cloth back up and retied the knot as I continued "And do not worry. Your fellow guild-mates will never know of your part in this, or your other secrets."

The RedGuard lowers his head and reluctantly stammered "Thank you, May the shadows hide you." then I responded "And my the Dread Father wrap you in his cold loving embrace.", then he got up and hastefully left.

It’s difficult to believe that he has the stomach for this kind oflife, but I trust the speakers’ judgment, so I won't take a life that I haven't been ordered to.

Besides, I have a paid mark in this town to find and take care of anyway. Why add more bodies to my roster?
I gathered my belongings, and headed up to the bar. "I would like a room for the night." I hissed to the innkeeper "And dinner."

after I ate I took my key and went up to my room and looked over the supplies counting everything over, and over, and over again as I thought about how I was going to pull off this hit.

It wasn't the first time I had been asked to clean up after a job gone wrong, but that's another story.
5 smoke-bombs, one robe, one dagger, a vial of potent toxin, and of course my talents.

The contract demands that the mark vanish without a trace, so to stir up fear and confusion. Send a message to the people that no matter how much coin you possess you can't escape the Brotherhood.
This message had to be both subtle yet deliberate.

I admit I was a little anxious, but the stress was astounding.

I spent all night getting set up, and paying beggars for everything they know about Faylin Mathers. The dead drop told me a little. He's 22 year old a Breton with blond hair, blue eyes, he comes from rich blood being the son of a nobleman, and where his estate is, but as the beggars talked a whole new picture of the young man began to be painted by their words.

Like the fact he was discharged from the imperial guards for being too rough with suspects, the fact that he has a bit of a Skooma addiction, or the fact that he enjoys paying the guards to look the other way while he has a little fun with an unfortunate inmate at the Anvil dungeon.
I love saddest. no matter what I have to do to them I never feel bad.

The Brotherhood knows about my moral hang ups that’s why I never made it too far in their ranks.

I have a natural gift for healing, but the world has shaped me into a monster. Sometimes I muse to myself about how my life may have been without The Dark Brotherhood.

Perhaps my parents had this same knack for helping others that I do? Perhaps if I hadn’t been stolen from them I could be living a quiet life as a healer?

But my life is what it is, and dwelling on what could have been will only make me bitter, or get me into trouble.

At least the Brotherhood understands enough to send me jobs with unsavory marks. People that I can’t help but to feel the world is better off without. That way I can look at it less like murder and more like Taking out the trash.

Speaking of trash, the more I learned about Faylin the less empathetic I became. The more I believed I was doing Anvil a great service by removing this cruel spoiled man-child from its streets.

The next day I watch as him and his 2 newly hired fighters’ guild goons went to the market, then to the mages guild to get some alchemic ingredients, then ironically to the chapel.

It seems our bad-boy has a guilty conscience, or perhaps he just likes to brag in the confessionals because he knows that even if the priest could tell the guards what he's done Daddy's coin and social standing will shield him from any punishment.

Then I watched him go back home. Must be calling it an early night tonight. I'm sure the inmates are thanking the 9 divine for small mercies.

After watching him all-day it didn't take long before my cold lizard brain knew just how to get past his guards, and get him.

His house is locked tighter than a daedroths’ jaws. with 5 fighters’ guild thugs rotating shifts every day, so attacking his home is asking for a bloodbath, and honestly I'm not a fan of unnecessary deaths.

That, and the contract specifically demands he disappears not him and 5 or more fighters guild goons all be found dead, so I pretty much have to try to get him when he leaves with his entourage during the day.
And I think I know just how to do that.

The next day him and his pet muscle heads left his home. He went to the market again, then to the mages guild, then to the chapel again.

He entered the chapel, then dropped some coins in the offering plate. Apparently he believes he can by the favor of the 9 just the same as everyone else, then he entered the confessional.

"Bless me for I have sinned against the will of the 9." he said with a smirk, and then he heard me say. "So have I."
He tried to yell, but I was already onto of him covering his mouth with my scaly clawed hand, and pressing my blade firmly against his groin. "Shhhhh, don't worry your friends. Tell them to go back to your house, and wait for you there." Then I whispered with an insidious hiss “But don’t try to alert them. Even if they kill me you won’t be around to enjoy it.”

I slowly slid my hand from his mouth down to around his throat, making sure to apply a little more pressure to his man-bits with my dagger just to remind him who's in charge here. Something he didn't forget as he shouted out to his purchased companions "Hey guys, take everything back to my estate. I'll be there shortly."

"Are you sure that's wise Sir?" one of them asked. I gave the blade a slight twist to encourage him to give them the correct response. Then he blurt out "Yes! Just go!"

I listened to the two men make small talk over sword techniques as they left, then the young Breton looked at me with dowy eyes and asked "What do you want? My father’s rich, so if it's money you want I'm sure he'll give it to you." he then gulp as he tried to hide his tears and quivering lip from me before he continued. "Just don't do anything rash, ok?"

I removed the vial of toxin from my pocket, and told him "Drink this." he looked at it, then at me. "No way. That stuff could kill me."

I gave his soft fleshy neck a squeeze and told him "What do you think I'll do if you don't? You should worry about me."

He gasp for air, and cried a little before submitting to my terms, so I loosened my grip, and handed him the ampule of black fluid. He begged me to not make him drink it, but I gave him no quarter. Just a cold stair from my red Argonian eyes, then he wiped the tears and snot from his face, and said “You could have killed me anytime, so this stuff must not be poison right?”

Again, I didn’t give him an inch. I just told him “I’m not a fan of having to ask twice” His face flushed, and his eyes began to well up again, then he drank the juice like a good boy believing it to be his only chance at survival.

He put his hand on his head and moaned. I was surprised how fast it kicked in. "What the hell did you do to me?!" he wheezed out in pain as he thrusted his hands down to his mid-section.

I wrapped my arms around him to keep him from staggering out of the confessional, and placed my hand over his mouth again. "Shhhh, just relax." though I doubt very much my words helped to satiate his terror.

Holding him still continued to get easier and easier as the poison ran it coarse, and made him increasingly weaker until he finally lost all consciousness, I continued to hold him in my arms till he finally stopped breathing, and I had felt all life excape his body. “Sorry kid, the only reason I wanted you to drink that was to keep your execution clean.” I whispered into his ear.

Getting the body out was easiest part. Being dressed in one of the priest's robes no one really thought twice to ask if I should be there, so I simply waited till the chapel was empty, then took the him into the basement crypt, and he is currently shearing a sarcophagus with an old pasture.

That’s the end for today. Perhaps I’ll tell you another of my misadventures later, just remember this is our little secret, and I will be watching to make sure you keep it.
Bye….
© Copyright 2011 Midyin_slag (midyin at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1807593-ShadowScale-a-love-story