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#12587979 Jul 31, 2016 at 10:30 PM
Marsh-Kin
15 Posts
A brilliant flash preceeded a booming of thunder, the sound enough to rattle the circular panes of glass within The Watch House Inn, the preferred place to drink if the scents of fish and open ocean from The Fish Stink, the only other place for a decent brew, didn't agree with. The bard, strumming her lute at the time, missed a cord from the interruption, yet amongst the patrons, no one seemed to notice. Drink and stories and talk continued to fill the air, light provided by the many candles atop the tables. Despite the growing storm outside, the occasional flicker of lightning against the glass only seemed to add to the atmosphere.

Red and orange eyes opened, the tune of the lute changing to one about the Pact, caught one patron's attention. White scales of an Argonian surrounded the curious look the eyes held as they fell upon a Nord looking woman. Her voice sweet, her fingers nearly dancing over the strings. The Argonian smiled to herself, attention falling back to the other patron resting on the dining table before her. Gold and white furred covered the form of a small fennec fox. Its body curled into a tight ball of fur, chest slowly rising and falling as he somehow found the ability to sleep through the racket of the crowd, the storm outside, and of course the bard. Beside the fennec lay a small platter, only crumbs of meats and a few treats left behind from the fox's satiated hunger.

The Argonian smiled to herself, a black leather hand stretching for the pewter cup in front of her resting next to an open journal. The words a mix of Cyrodillic and Daedric littered the pages, with the header of the page mentioning the author, the Argonian Speaks-at-Night. The quill, laying next to the book, had long since dried as the night carried on, though the black and white stripes of the feather seemed to point to the dunmer style of the cup. The patterns of silver around the rim always seemed to catch her eye, a hallmark of Dunmer style. Even her own robes had the Dunmer influence. Leather dyed the deepest of blues, nearly black, highlighted by metal, heavily inspired by the Ordinators found in Deshaan. With a gentle creak the leather groaned as the cup was brought to the waiting mouth of the Argonian woman, a sip of the sharp tasting Cyrodilic Brandy falling onto her tongue. Losing herself to the taste, she watched as a Dunmer man picked himself up from the table.

The greyish blue tan of a Dark Elf was unmistakable, the long, jet black hair impecably combed and drawn into a pony tail. Despite the threads of his clothing implying a wealthy merchant, his state was in steady decline as alcohol had taken its toll on him. Trying, yet failing, to speak with a silver tongue to his companions, he clumsily dug into his coin purse, leaving well more than the drinks cost before shambling towards the stairs. The Argonian could only watch as this Dunmer nearly fell up a short flight of stairs, a smile creeping on the lizard like muzzle. Perfect, she thought.

Leaving her own small stack of coin on the table, she closed her journal, slipping it under her robes before huffing as she looked at the ball of fur before her. She carefully s under the sleeping fennec, its large ears flicking lightly as it was picked up. It made a gentle grumble sound as he was tucked into the arms of the lizard. Making sure her fox was comfortable, she then lifted her head, eyes focusing on a form she could swear wasn't in the corner before. Dark, nearly covered by shadows. Taller than she, but most were if you weren't a Wood Elf. As the Dunmer left, the shadowed figure promptly followed suit. She lifted an eyeridge, watching as a long, slender tail seemed to snake behind the shadowy figure. Within moments, the larger Argonian was already as gone as he seemingly appeared.

Speaks-at-Night merely frowned at this, her head turning towards the waking fox in her arms. Careful of her prominent horns curling from the side of her head, she was able to give the fennec a gentle nosing, waking him completely. Her own tail swaying lightly as the fox seemed to unhinge his own jaw to spectacularily yawn, Night narrowed her own eyes as she stared back to the stairs. The fox's ears lifted as it could swear it heard Night's stomach rumbling, its muzzle turning upwards to look upon the hunger in the white-scaled Argonian's eyes. It let out a soft whine, as though concerned.

Night dipped her head down, her muzzle curling back into a sort of amused smile, "No need to worry, Floof," she spoke, her tone almost melodic, "I've already found someone to share the night with."

The fox seemed content with the answer, yawning again before hopping out of its owner's arms and onto the carved stone floor. Stretching out, it waited for Speaks-at-Night to take the first steps before joining her side. The Argonian approached the door, opening it, only to be greeted by the howling of wind and the wash of heavy rain. Lightning flickered once again, mated to the sound of the hefty sound of thunder behind it. Any of the ash left in the air had been washed onto the streets, turning the angular cobblestone a darker colour. Certainly enough, the rain would bring the cobblestone back to it's normal colour by the morning.

Speaks-at-Night frowned a little more, looking left, then right, wondering which direction her prey had disappeared to. Certainly it was too late to visit the bank from across the street, and it would be rude to start knocking at the doors of the Mages Guild at this late an hour. To her right was the street leading down a flight of steps, and of course the lanterns. Staring at them sway, they managed to give one last flicker of light, able to highlight the tip of a lizard's tail from around the corner of the building before the wind blew the candles out. Smirking at the discovery, she decided to follow. Floof stood by her side, though positioned so her robe kept the rain from spraying against his own fur.

Her footsteps met with a wet sound as she walked through the grass around the building, her gaze catching the flickering of candles and lanterns from within the Inn, the source of life still quite booming within. It was then her eyes opened further. A scent unlike no other met her like a wall. To her, it was intoxicating, the sweetest of nectars. Blood. Her own scales seemed to quiver at scents far faster than the sound of a muffled gurgle ever could. Intrigued now, she hurried her step, a part of her fixated on the scents, but her more curious side taking the best of her. As she walked along the exterior of the rounded building, she was nearing what could be described as an alley, the perfect place to perform the blackest of deeds. Walls of stone obscurred the act from any onlookers, and the angle was just right the watchtower not even a stone's throw away could see.

The Argonian from the bar was noticed first as lightning lit the area. A large arm holding someone, while his free arm twisted a glinting object. With a strong pull, a bloodied blade was pulled from the small of the wealthy Dunmer's back. Scaled fingers covered the mouth,ensuring the kill to be as quiet as can be, though the look of the Dunmer stayed frozen. Terror, or surprise at what just happened? Perhaps his blood was too soaked with alcohol to form a coherant thought upon his last breath. Whatever he was thinking, his body was pushed to the side, allowed to crumple against the walls of the Inn. Speaks-at-Night merely rolled her eyes, an audible sigh coming from her.

"Shadowscales...." she muttered, placing a hand on her hip as any sign of her amusement left her face.

The word caught the assassin's attention immediately. Face covered mostly by hood, scales kept secret by leathers crafted for utility. Pouches to hold poisons, provisions for blades, though light enough to make a quick escape. Speaks-at-Night could, with good reason, consider she had just bumped into the Dark Brotherhood.

"Well met, scale-sister," the Argonian spoke, cleaning his dagger, and while his eyes couldn't be seen, Night could see the murderous intent coming from his very posture, "I may ask, why are you following me?"

Speaks-at-Night frowned a little, though after a moment and eyeridge lifted as she motioned to the body, "He was my food for the night. After the amount he drank, I felt it a night to treat myself."

The Shadowscale looked back to the body, then to the pale-scaled Argonian standing before him. Even the orange furred fox staying close to her robes to stay dry. He merely chuckled.

"I see now, Night Walker. What fortune it is to have you come to me," he spoke, clutching his dagger tighter, "I would say our Father would be eager to have your soul as well, but I question if you truly have one."

Speaks-at-Night merely frowned at the insult, her tail starting to sway behind her. When the intents were made clear, Floof made a cowardly whining sound, abruptly turning tail and running, as though fearing for his life. Seeing this, the Shadowscale lowered his weapon and began to laugh. Lips curled back in a cruel grin, teeth bared to the sky, he bellowed in amusement. It only took him a few moments to calm himself, allowing himself only a few more chuckles.

"I see your pet is much smarter than you... Vampire," his smile returned as he began to approach, "tonight is a most opportune night indeed."

Speaks-at-Night merely crossed her arms, her usual, arrogant smirk appearing on her muzzle as the assassin drew nearer, "all this to quiet a witness?"

"Yessss," the Argonian hissed, "our Dread Father must be pleased."

She merely shook her head, "There's no peaceful way of resolving this?"

Words didn't seem to sway the Shadowscale before her, even as she could tell the Argonian was being cautious but deliberate in his stalking. He couldn't quite guess her age, and likewise she had no idea how many kills this particular Assassin had made. Guessing from how he turned his blade around in his hand, she would assume his skill with such a thing was nothing to be trifled at. Instead, at the end, she merely sighed.

"Very well. Like your Night Mother, I too command a Shadowscale," Night spoke, lifting a hand as though she were about to snap her fingers.

The Argonian froze, his head lifting to reveal his widening eyes, "What!?" he cried, his looking turning to anger as the snap came.

It was then the blinding pain of fire erupted from his back as cold steel plunged through flesh and bone, only to escape out of his chest. A scream grew muffled as scaled fingers covered his mouth, an action he had used on the Dunmer, his body now cold and fated for the soil. The dagger fell from the Assassin's hand, clattering to the ground while a more slender Argonian from behind drew the thin blade from the Shadowscale.

The Assassin fell to his knees, clutching at his chest as blood began to seep. Lost in confusion, mind clouded by pain, he then felt the grip of leather around his neck as Night approached him. She simply squeezed, the helpless lizard looking up to her with wide eyes, while Night merely smiled to the slender Argonian standing behind.

"You may have the Dunmer's coin purse..." she spoke to her Shadowscale, but then dipped her head, "thank you again."

The slender Argonian dipped his head with a courteous 'Mistress' being whispered before reaching for the coinpurse. The last thing the Assassin saw was a scale-brother, bend down and begin to change its shape. The flutter of a golden tail vanished from his vision as the once again fox bounded off with coin purse in mouth. Speaks-at-Night then turned her attention back to the Assassin, her eyes narrowed as her muzzle split into a wicked, cruel grin.

"Now about my food....."


======

It was the next morning. The storm had come and gone, the ash was already falling in the air. Sat at the benches near the fountain near edge of Davon's Watch was Speaks-at-Night, a new container of ink, and a fresh quill. She drew her runes, blending some in Cyrodillic as the sun shone on her. The sound of the water seemed to calm her, drowning out the bustling traffic of those walking by, or the distant sounds of metal clanging from either the blacksmith's hammer or the striking of swords by the hopeful's of the Fighter's Guild.

As she was writing, a shadow appeared on her book, cast by an Argonian. Without looking up, she finished what she was writing, even as he spoke.

"Were it wise to allow him to live?" came a concerned voice, with a growly undertone, much deeper than the slender Argonian it came from could be believed.

"After spending the night with him to make sure he wouldn't bleed to death, I certainly hope so," Night spoke, her writing stopping for a moment to look up to the unsatisfied Argonian staring at her. She merely sighed and returned her quill to paper.

"I told him my intentions, and that was that. If he wishes to pursue the matter, I could always use another fox," she spoke, blowing on the ink before turning her gaze up. She then smiled, seeing light green scales being covered by fancy, yet comfortable looking garments, "ah, you treated yourself to some clothing. Trying to impress a certain lady?"

The Shadowscale rubbed at his muzzle lightly, "N-No, Mistress," he spoke.

Speaks-at-Night merely allowed her lips to curl, "Shame.... But... do stop by within the Marsh as your fox self a little more often. Others have noticed your absence, my thrall."

The Shadowscale dipped his head, "Certainly, my Lady," he spoke, he attention lifting a little more as Night snapped the book shut and stood before him.

She merely sighed gently, drawing her arms around the slender Argonian to give him a gentle hug in parting, "Please do take a break from the Dolmens to take your Lady out sometime this week though, xhu?"

She smiled to him before patting his shoulder, even as he fidgeted with his claws. He couldn't help but watch the Vampire heading towards the gates, even as she rubbed a medallion with a blue crystal in it.
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