Random Chance of Destiny

"Destiny is neither set in stone nor random chance. It is a queer combination of both, thrown into the cauldron forged of luck, Providence and the cold iron of fact."





"Hey. You. You're finally awake."

The sensation of a carriage's uneven roll, ropes binding his arms and the sound of an unfamiliar voice woke him from a long, dreamless slumber. He listened around him as he tested his bindings. Plain, simple rope. He could burn through them easily were the weather any warmer. It was this cold air around him, and confusion that kept him still.

"You were trying to cross the border, right?" K'Rhenne replied with a silent expression of confusion. He had wandered, not even knowing when he had left Elsweyr's borders. "Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there." Ambush? More confusion. Unwilling to speak yet, K'Rhenne opted to listen in silence as the mentioned thief spoke up.

"Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along," the thief retorted. "Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell," he turned to the oddly blue Khajiit across from him.

"You there, you and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

Stormcloaks? What in the Power are Stormcloaks?

He wanted to ask, but was cut off by the first man.

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief," the man's gruff voice intoned. A small breath of wind lifted fair hair away from fierce gray eyes.

"Shut up back there!" the carriage driver hissed.

"What's his problem?" The thief gave a sideways glance to a larger man next to K'Rhenne, apparently made silent and unable to speak.

"Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!" the gruff-voiced man snapped.

"Ulfric, the Jarl of Windhelm?" the thief murmured. "You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you... Oh gods! Where are they taking us?"

"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits."

"No! This can't be happening! This isn't happening!" The horse thief started to pant, on the verge of panic.

"Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?" the first man asked.

"Why do you care?"

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home."

Nord?

"Rorikstead. I'm...I'm from Rorikstead," the thief shakily replied.

"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!" a female called.

"Good, let's get this over with," the man called General Tullius growled.

"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh, Divines, please help me!" the thief desperately prayed.

"Look at him. General Tullius, the military governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they have something to do with this."

He looked around, gazing at a place he seemed to recognise closely. "This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilad is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in."

He paused, revisiting old memories. "Funny. When I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe."

"Who are they, daddy?" K'Rhenne heard the curious voice of a young boy as the carriage passed.

"Go inside, little cub," his father commanded.


"Why? I wanted to watch the soldiers."

"Inside the house. Now!" His father's voice took on a sternness. He meant business and the child did not dare disobey him, though his tone indicated a begrudging acceptance of his parent's command.

"Yes, Father."

"Why are we stopping?" The thief from Rorikstead shivered involuntarily; his eyes darting about.

"Why do you think? End of the line. Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting," the one who called himself a Nord responded with an unusual calm.

"No, wait! We're not rebels!" the thief cried, his panic rising further.

"Face your death with some courage, thief," the Nord frowned as the silent one called Ulfric stepped out of the carriage.

"You've got to tell them we weren't with you! This is a mistake!" the thief protested, hopping out of the carriage, K'Rhenne and the Nord following close behind. The Nord flashed the odd blue Khajiit a sad, thoughtful smile. In the back of his mind, the Nord wondered if the blue Khajiit was naturally that intense shade of blue, or if it was a rather elaborate war paint.

"Step toward the block as we call your name. One at a time!" the female soldier barked.

"Empire loves their damned lists," the Nord growled under his breath.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm," another soldier ordered. He stood beside the female, holding a ledger.

"It has been an honour, Jarl Ulfric," K'Rhenne listened to the undertone of grief in the unnamed Nord's voice.

"Ralof of Riverwood," the soldier called with a frown. The Nord next to K'Rhenne made his way to the block.

"Lokir of Rorikstead."

"No! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" the thief audaciously protested, sprinting toward the gate the carriage had come through.

"Halt!" screeched the woman-soldier.

"You're not going to kill me!" Lokir cried his defiance in his last words.

"Archers!" From above, an expert arrow cut through the air, finding its way into Lokir's back. "Anyone else feel like running?" the woman-soldier challenged.

"Wait. You there. Step forward," the soldier with the ledger ordered. K'Rhenne was the last in line. He stepped carefully forward a few paces, almost hearing the stares of confusion, then comprehension around him. From somewhere, he thought he heard a voice whisper in astonishment. Blind...the cat is blind. He paid no heed to them though, for the ledger-bearing soldier had his attention.

?Who...are you??

?Renne. K'Rhenne a'Noctis,? his voice came out in its odd multi-harmony that was a natural trait of his lost kind, but tinged with a slight rasp inherent in the Khajiiti he had lived with, the very ones that had saved his existence. He spoke his name twice, first the pronunciation of his birth, then the pronunciation granted to him by the Khajiiti. He wondered if they would execute him for breaking some law he had no idea of ? it wouldn't be the first time something like that had been tried. He felt his chest give a low thrum, getting used to the spidery tingle of his mineral irrevocably fused to and within him.

"You with the trade caravans, Khajiit? Your kind always seems to find trouble," the soldier frowned. "Captain, what should we do? He's not on the list."

"Forget the list. He goes to the block," the female soldier commanded dispassionately.

K'Rhenne couldn't help the low hiss that left his lips. So, he was to die without knowing the reason.

Humans. Typical. Nothing seems to change from world to world.

Patience, my charge. Patience.

"By your orders, Captain," the soldier replied, not sounding too pleased with the order.

"I?m sorry. This is a cold place to die in for you, Khajiit. Follow the captain, prisoner."

K'Rhenne gave a confused tilt of his head, but stepped forward anyway. After nearly running into the ledger-man, the human came to the same realisation as the others around him. He put his pen in the spine of his ledger and, with his now free hand, guided K'Rhenne to a place in front of the chopping block.

"Ulfric Stormcloak. So I'm hearing Helgen call you a hero," the one called General Tullius said.
"But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne. You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos! And now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace!" K'Rhenne fancied he heard cheers of approval mixed with shouts of disdain, but even his ears were stretched to the limit as a great roar drowned out the crowd.

"What was that?" the woman-soldier identified as the captain asked.

"It?s nothing. Carry on."

"Yes, General Tullius!" the captain turned to a priestess standing nearby. "Give them their last rites."

"As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the eight Divines upon you -- " the priestess began.

"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with!" A Stormcloak soldier snapped at the priestess, angrily storming to the block..

"As you wish," the priestess sighed. She took a few steps back, away from the headsman as he raised the axe.

"Come on! I haven't got all morning!" the Stormcloak hissed. The captain shoved him down onto the block. He smiled up at the headsman standing over him, "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" His question was never answered, becoming his final words as the axe came down. His head fell into the basket below.

"You Imperial bastards!" A third female voice came out, shrieking her fury at the injustice.

"Justice!" Another voice, an Imperial, howled back.

"Death to the Stormcloaks!" another roared.

"As fearless in death as he was in life," Ralof spoke with grief-tinted pride in his voice.

"Next, the cat!" the captain called. The blue Khajiit hesitated as another deafening roar split the air.

"There it is again," an Imperial guard looked up. "Did you hear that?"

"I said next prisoner!" the captain growled. K'Rhenne found himself guided to the block and roughly pushed down. His face met the bloodied stone but he ignored the slight scrape of it against his fur-touched skin. A half-formed question in his mind came and he almost-wondered if these humans had never seen a Khajiit before.

"To the block, prisoner, nice and easy," the ledger-bearing Imperial let go of K'Rhenne as the Khajiit dropped into place. Were he able to see, he would have found himself staring up at a massive dragon, black as pitch as it took a place upon the tower behind the headsman.

"What in Oblivion is that?!" the headsman turned around, almost gawking at the massive creature above him.

"Sentries, what do you see?" the captain asked.

"It's in the town!" a woman across the small thoroughfare screamed. The dragon above gazed at the beings below with infernal red eyes, intent only upon destroying all that it laid those eyes on.

"Dragon! A dragon!" Another Imperial unsheathed her sword, prepared to at least try to fight this thing off. The beast gave another ground-splitting roar, backed by something that sounded like thunder. Such a sound gave rise to panic as buildings collapsed and flame-drenched stones from the tower the beast had alighted on began to collapse. The creature took flight again, blasting fire and adding to the panic. K'Rhenne remained where he was for a moment longer, stunned by the sheer might of the dragon's catastrophic sound.

?Khajiit! Get up! Get up!? K'Rhenne didn't know who was calling, but got himself to his feet. Survival meant that he had to leave here, flee the dragon's wrath. Being seen as a snack wasn't something he wanted to consider as a viable way of life.
K'Rhenne frowned, trying to work his way forward with not only his hands bound until his skin could warm enough to take care of that little problem, but the distinct disadvantage of his eyes not working. Still, he managed to proceed forward a few feet until a hand met his arm. The grip was familiar yet not, gently pulling, guiding him toward a large stone wall that had, until the dragon's arrival, surrounded this little town called Helgen.

Patience. Patience, my charge....Now.

He waited a while here, smiling when he was finally able to burn off the bindings. K'Rhenne let go of his Khajiit appearance and dropped to all fours. It wasn't as ?civilised?, true. It was far more primal and certainly not the way he would have chosen to get out of this place, but it was his only option. While the dragon continued to roar above, K'Rhenne crawled across this new terrain. More confidently, he weaved around and through buildings, listening to the echo within. For a moment, he worried he had lost his communication device, but relaxed when he registered its comforting weight on his arm. It had changed slightly, but he couldn't examine that now. Right now, he had to leave Helgen.

Right now, he had to flee to survive.

Random Chance of Destiny
Mur-Diddly-Ur-Der

"The murdered is not unaccountable for his own murder, And the robbed is not blameless in being robbed."
--Kahlil Gibran; The Prophet





K'Rhenne worked diligently on his twin blades. His cane was the first thing done, being the easiest to craft. Painted in wetted moonstone dust to reflect the bone-white colour it should be, and tipped in a rolled stone, his cane was placed beside the forge. Close, but not too close. By then, he had moved on to his twin blades.
They were neither short nor long, gracefully curved yet straight at their hearts. They gleamed in the sunlight as day had come, reflecting a blackness that bore a faint hint of blue. By the time he had completed these twin killing machines, K'Rhenne had heard more than one offhand comment from passers-by.

?What metal is that? It looks carved of night itself...?

?Please. Keep those sheathed. We are mostly decent folk here.?

?What are you doing inside the forge? Are you insane?!?

?What manner of murderer are you, to create those??

Murderer. He had been branded as one long before his fall into second Madness, long before the Ides. Much earlier than all of that, he had been branded a murderer as he had faced war for the first time. He still remembered his first kill, still remembered the name of the man he killed. And why he killed him.

Salem Fitzallen.

He had killed this man for murdering an entire family of civilians. War was war, but there was no place for killing civilians.

He remembered others he had killed, outside of war or self-defence. They had been after that war, after Veldri Niahar'dro. After much, but before much more. When he had set foot to Rhy'Din's mainland continent for the first time, he had noted the so-called ?culture? that allowed, even propagated widespread slavery. Having escaped times of slavery himself, he had taken the lives of many slavers without regret. To him, slavery was a true evil, and one he was bound to fight against...just as he was bound to destroy betrayal wherever he went.

K'Rhenne drifted back to the present as he realised the forge he had been sitting in began to go cold. With his blades done, and slowly changing as his Commander had told him, he crawled out of the forge and left some firewood for the blacksmith. It wouldn't do to sap the forge's warmth and not replace it.
As he took up his cane, weapons sheathed at his side, K'Rhenne left himself to explore this city of Riften, to listen to what he could hear from those around him. He had no mood to directly interact, so it suited him well. And occasionally, his Commander gave voice.

?Your weapons are refining well. They will be complete very soon.?

?This one thanks Commander.?

?I mentioned I had a gift for you, my charge.?

?This one does not expect...?

?I am well aware. But, nonetheless, I have a gift and wish to give it. Will you permit me??

K'Rhenne bowed his head, blushing beneath his cloak.

?There is no need for shame, my charge. I know you well.?

A nod. That was true.

?You need no longer call me Commander.?

A cold torrent of fear froze K'Rhenne in his tracks. His skin paled to near-white and his eyes dimmed to brown. He was already preparing for the proverbial shoe to drop, preparing for what he had been conditioned to see as imminent betrayal.
In this moment of fear, insubstantial, wraith-like arms seemed to take him up in a fierce grip as a silent denial of his fears.

?No, my charge. No, you misunderstand. I made an oath with you, as you did with me.?

?Khajiit does not understand.?

?Hear me, my charge. I can now speak my name, as it is said, in these lands.?

Silence. The phantom arms held him more tightly.

?You are my charge, forever-more.?

Calm came slowly, but it came, banishing the worst of the fear. That calm was followed by puzzlement ? he had always called the Commander...Commander. It was well with him that he should do so, after the retrieval of the Stones. The retrieval of the Stones and his Commander's blessing had given him a Power he found by now, he could not bear to be without, even with the natural ways of his long-gone kind. The ways of his kind were biological traits, nothing more. He could fly, were he to bring out his wings, true. He could deliver a venomous bite or sting from an equally retractable tail. He could change himself to depict his strongest emotions and yet it was all meaningless to him in the shadow of this Power. This thing he had earned, this thing that had been a gift from a being ancient enough that he fancied him a god.

?I am no god, my charge. You know this.?

?Still worthy of worship.?

?You honour me, my charge. Here, my name is called Zor-Sithis.?

?Lord Zor- --?

A chuckle. ?Just Zor-Sithis, my charge.?

K'Rhenne smiled then, as his deep-seated fear finally left him. He felt the ghostly arms reassure him one more time before letting go, vanishing back into the ether of wherever they came from. He walked through Riften, cheered at first, but soon his mood darkened. He listened warily to the things around him. His commander whispered only once.

?Be careful, my charge.?

?...heard the screaming again last night, Hroggvir??

?Didn't you, Faergon? Someone needs to...?

?Tsshh, idiot!?

?Trouble??

?No, sir. Just...hearing things again.?

?I hear you, Hroggvir. I hear you.?

K'Rhenne creased his brow and followed the voices. He shuddered against both the sea-born cold of Riften and a pall he could practically smell. The voices turned off, leaving him to keep going straight on. He found himself along the wall of a building and put an ear to it. The anomaly-turned-Khajiit didn't like what he heard.
Children cried out in terror.

Zor-Sithis' voice cut through his slow-burning fury.

?Wait. This is careful work, my charge. Commit this act with a sure mind and a steady hand.?

?This pain is familiar. Justice should be done.?

?I understand. This will not impugn you, my charge. I will reveal to you more, when your Justice is completed.?

K'Rhenne wondered for a moment, but there was no recrimination from his superior as he found the door and crept silently into the building. He held his tongue with some difficulty as he heard things in these walls, heard more things said than the verbal onslaught from a violent old crone's voice.

"Those who shirk their duties will get an extra beating. Do I make myself clear?"

?Yes, Grelod,? responded a small group of children.

"And one more thing! I will hear no more talk of adoptions! None of you riff-raff is getting adopted. Ever! Nobody needs you, nobody wants you. That, my darlings, is why you're here. Why you will always be here, until the day you come of age and get thrown into that wide, horrible world. Now, what do you all say?" K'Rhenne nearly gagged at the violence he could smell within this human female.

?We love you, Grelod. Thank you for your kindness.?

Kindness, indeed. He smelled the half-healed wounds and heard the begrudgment, the hiding of pain in children's voices. They were all humans, yes, but it was the adults who knew betrayal. It was always the adults who left their mark, their job to bring children up into honourable beings.
This was no adult. This was a human. He could never be a parent himself, no. Yet, he could at least rid this world of Grelod the Kind. K'Rhenne kept to the shadows, listening and smelling the things around him. He quietly opened a door, smelled dried blood and the metal of chains.

Child-sized chains.

Now, even his mentor's voice was laced with anger.

?You have my full blessing, my charge. Destroy the evil. May the Power protect you.?

He knew it would. K'Rhenne silently fingered his wristband. His hand traveled down to the small of his back. As if in answer, a tingle traced up his arm, and in a whisper, he found his armour. It was a dark armour, midnight-blue, yet shot with light blue swirls and veins, mimicking one of the many patterns of Damascus steel.
There was no need to escalate battle, for this was not to be a battle. This was justice at its coldest.

Grelod stalked about the building, muttering about the children. They, in turn, kept away from her or fled when she got too close. He followed behind her to yet another room, deserted. The children didn't need to see the act, for the aftermath would be enough.

And when he was sure nothing stood between the Steel Ranger and Grelod the Kind, his twin blades tasted first blood.

It was a gruesome kill, prolonged to see her suffer as she had made the children suffer. He allowed a slight Transcendence, going slowly, as he still had to learn what his new limitations were. In a wisp of breath, part of him that was not solid crept into Grelod the Kind's consciousness.

?Who are you?! What are you?!?

?Justice.?

?Justice?! I don't know what you -- ?

?Ah, this one finds a lie. The new-living ones.?

?Those little guttersnipes? Ha! Tell me what they don't deserve, the lazy little brats!?

?Justice. The Power speaks, not this one.?

K'Rhenne Solidified completely again, letting Grelod squirm within her own evil, letting her taste the shadows of madness that frolicked at the edge of this Khajiit's being. She had little time to ponder why he didn't entirely sound like a Khajiit. She had little time to wonder who this creature was that had one knife to her throat and another aimed at her belly. She had even less time to wonder how he had gotten into her head without that legendary, and disgusting in her eyes, 'telepathy' the lost Dwemer were purported to have.

?Who are you?? Grelod's impudent, snark-filled voice spat out the question.

?NightRunner. Steel Ranger.?

It was the last thing Grelod the Kind heard as her body dropped to the Honourhall Orphanage's floor, soaking in its own blood and now, devoid of both eyes. K'Rhenne closed the door behind him as he left that tiny room. His cane and blades sheathed, he kept to the ceiling, twisting his cloak tightly around himself. He left no trail behind him ? he didn't need to. The only sign he had been there was the growing pool of blood forming from underneath the door to Grelod the Kind's room.

K'Rhenne departed Riften to the sound of joyous children crying out that they were finally free.

Random Chance of Destiny
Behind Veiled Ways

"Betrayal comes like a storm; fierce and whole in its destruction. Renewal comes like a thief in the night; patient, silent yet whole in its own rebirth."






"You learn quickly. We, the Aedra and we, the Daedra salute you, Zor-Sithis.?

Zor-Sithis heard thirty-one voices speak in this new, strange realm of nothing and everything. They spoke formally, yet sincerely. Twenty Daedra, eight Aedra-voices and three who belonged to neither side seemed to surround him. Zor-Sithis listened even as he watched his charge sleep under the stars, surrounded by a warming ring of fire that did not spread.

?I thank you...Gentlebeings. Forgive me ignorance, but I know not what to call you.?

?We have all names. We are...? Zor-Sithis heard and noted each being as he or she named him or herself. Each being seemed to step forward, bringing with him or her an entire realm of existence. Some terrified him. Others awed him. And still, a few confused him. As ancient as the man already was, he found himself somehow young compared to these beings he now resided with.

?I am Akatosh.? Dragons, Time-streams and gold.

?I am Arkay.? Life. Death and Rebirth.

?I am Dibella.? Beauty, lovers and loving desire.

?I am Julianos.? Wisdom, knowledge and its light.

?I am Kynareth.? Nature, its plants and its beasts.

?I am Mara.? Mother, nurturer and the love of its kind.

?I am Stendarr.? Merciful Justice and rightful rule.

?I am Zenithar.? Diligent work, commerce and trade.

?I am Talos.? A ninth voice spoke here, though it seemed neither godly nor mortal. The Aedra-voices called him the mortal's god, for he had begun as a mortal.

Zor-Sithis heard twenty other names surround him.

?Azura.? She brought Moonshadow, a silver city and a rose palace.

?Boethiah. Mehrunes Dagon. Molag Bal. Mephala. Vaermina. Namira.? They personified destruction, darkness, evil and realms fallen into disrepair. Beggars disregarded, wars fought and never won, afflicted people fraught with sickness and doomed with no cure.

?Peryite.? He was the personifier of disease and affliction.

?Jyggalag, and my twin, Sheogorath.? Zor-Sithis flinched back from the two ? Order and Madness. He already knew the Madness, for it resided within the mind of his own charge, never to be fully purged no matter how hard he tried. Sheogorath smiled.

?You know me, don't you??

?Yes. My charge was once driven mad...?

?Ah, that one. Yes, your Steel. He tried so hard, didn't he?? The sarcasm was not lost on the sage, or Sheogorath's twin, Jyggalag.

?Hermaeus Mora. Nocturnal.? As the twins of Chaos and Order retreated, two more came. They brought night's comfort, the promise of knowledge, wisdom, Apocrypha and Evergloam. They spoke of knowledge for the sake of knowledge, and oaths bound and kept.

?We see potential in your charge. Your charge serves you. We anticipate he will serve us alongside.?

?How? He cannot stay in this realm, for it is not his home.?

?It could be.?

?Yet, it cannot.?

?Do you deny your charge potential happiness??

?No, I would never. But he cannot live here. He cannot survive for very long in a land filled with almost nothing but Magick.?

?Ah, the Anti-Magical one. The Aberrant. Yes. We will help, if you let us.?

?I do not understand. How??

?I am Nocturnal. By the safety of the shadows, and the elusiveness of Nightingale, he will not be slain by Magic here.?

?I am Hermaeus Mora, Herma-Mora. By Apocryphal Knowledge, I will impart to him knowledge he will need to survive. Can you provide myself and Nocturnal a token in return??

?I...I do not know what I can give.?

?A gateway. A promise, that he may return here with you to visit.?

?May I ask him of this??

Zor-Sithis heard and felt the other three. The three who were neither Aedra nor Daedra. As all others faded, they approached him in silence. Lorkhan. Magnus. And Sithis, with his Night Mother in a strange presence-yet-absence. They spoke no words as Magnus stood to Zor-Sithis' left and Lorkhan to his right. Sithis and his Night Mother stood somehow in front of him, behind him and weren't present altogether. The ancient wizard's eyes widened as he felt Magnus' and Lorkhan's hands ensnare his arms. He struggled, confused and now frightened under their steely grip. Terror took him as he watched, looking down upon his sleeping charge. He noted the fire slowly die out. He glared unseen at the black-clad figures below as they crept in.

?No! No, Aedra! Daedra! My charge! What have you done?!?

None in the Mundane world heard the desperate, screaming roar as Zor-Sithis was bound, forced to merely watch as the black figures swept his sleeping charge away into the night.

Random Chance of Destiny
I Love You...I'll Kill You

"I am neither good nor evil. Judge, jury, it means nothing in the face of the wicked."






?Take as long as you like. We're not going anywhere.?

K'Rhenne nodded and first, sought out his cane. Upon finding it, he navigated the length and breadth of the shack he now found himself in, and soon enough, he found the three he was to select from. Before he dared approach them individually, he sent a brief prayer to Zor-Sithis and hoped he did the right thing. For this, he refused to touch his keepsake, refused to tap into the Power that his Commander had granted him ? he couldn't afford to taint the Power with innocent blood. And that possibility was certainly there.
He approached the female first. The Aberrant heard her abrasive insults and demands to be freed.

?Get this...thing off of me! Now!?

?What brought you here?? His voice held a calm he didn't necessarily feel.

?Who are you? What does it matter? I demand to be let go this instant!? The woman almost shrieked, making her abrasive and frankly, quite annoying voice that much more unbearable. K'Rhenne remained calm and tried inwardly to distance himself.

?What did you do??

?None of your business! I'm a mother of six; I can't afford to be nice. Have I made enemies? You're damn right I have enemies!?

?What did you do??

The abrasive woman silenced. K'Rhenne found her head, covered in an executioner's hood, and placed his hand atop. His fingers blurred, seeking beneath the cloth, threading through it to the woman's head. He repeated the question at a near whisper, but with it came an unspoken one ? could he find out? It was either slay one, or die himself. If she were truly innocent, then maybe...

?What did you do??

The woman nodded uncertainly. In her own mind, she had done nothing wrong. This was however, not what the Aberrant felt. He heard the cries of her six children, cries of fear and pain. She had no time to be kind.
K'Rhenne lifted his hand away and drew his blade. The blow was quick, a horizontal slice across the throat. She was not innocent. Like Grelod, she had to go. She had had no time to be kind.

He moved on to the next one, a male quivering in fear.

?What did you do??

The male quaked, stammering a reply. He too, was covered with an executioner's hood but had heard enough to get an idea of what this killer wanted. He faced his judge in fear, in shame.

?I'm...I'm a mercenary...Maybe there were times I got carried away? But-but war is war.?

War is war, indeed. K'Rhenne made a face. He knew war all too well, having fought in a good few. He briefly thought of Xyvoria. Of Sendaria's vain harlot-queen. He thought of Realm-Wars that had taken an entire series of lands. He knew war well enough, in large scale and small scale, from a shoot-out that had left him to the wolves, to the massive atrocities he had seen beyond Rhy'Din. But there were lines in war honourable warriors did not cross.
He placed his hand on the man's head. His fingers threaded in to the man's scalp. The Aberrant heard screams of innocents fleeing a war zone. He heard laughter as this man took a girl running from the scene ? the girl was barely a teenager, not even a full-grown woman yet. The man's lascivious laughter was enough for the Aberrant to decide. His hand lifted. His blade was swiftly drawn again. The man was dead before he hit the ground.

K'Rhenne approached the final being.

?This is not the first time Vasha has been...bagged and dragged. Vasha, taker of lives, obtainer of goods and defiler of daughters, it would be an insult if someone did not wish this one dead.? So, this one was a Khajiit. K'Rhenne sighed.

?What did you do??

?Ah, and why do you ask, Judge and Jury?? Vasha received no response beyond a hand upon his head. He held still, feeling the creature's hand almost...drift, as if this hand were not entirely solid. He felt a tickling sensation, heard the voice of the one who identified as Aberrant Khajiit, as what he could gather, Dagithay-Raht. Vasha was curious but had little time to wonder.
He remembered his bragged litany of doings and regretted it. He regretted it all as the hand left his head and the cold blade sliced across his throat, knowing he would beg forgiveness now, from the Mother-Cat.

K'Rhenne backed away, feeling both dirty and somehow, relieved. Three who had committed what he saw as injustices, betrayals in their own kind, were now dead. Yet, even as he regretted killing bound victims, a small, primal part of him reveled in it. He wasn't entirely good, as freed slaves might cry. He wasn't entirely evil, as humans often assumed.

?Well, well. Aren't we the over-achiever. Three possibilities, three victims. Must have been one of them, right? So why take chances??

K'Rhenne said nothing.

?Hm. When most would speak, you listen. You think. You understand that the only thing that matters is you following my orders. To kill.?

?Correction, Female.?

?Correction? Why, whatever do you mean?? The woman smiled under her cowl.

?None were innocent.?

She straightened then, narrowing her eyes.

?How did you know??

?This one...asked them.? K'Rhenne cleaned his blade, sheathed it and lifted his now free hand. He let it blur, let the appendage become not entirely solid, right in front of her eyes. The woman laughed heartily now, and placed an arm around his shoulders.

?Oh-ho-ho, this is rich. A blind assassin who is also a lie detector. Delicious!?

?So...What happens now??

?Now? You've paid your debt in full, so you're free to go. But, why stop there? Let's take our relationship to the next level. I invite you to join my Family...The Dark Brotherhood. In the southwest reaches of Skyrim, in the Pine Forest, you'll find the entrance to our Sanctuary. It's just beneath the road, hidden from view. When questioned by the Black Door, answer with the correct passphrase, 'Silence, my brother.' Then you're in. And your new life begins. I'll see you at home.?

K'Rhenne found the key to this dilapidated shack in his hand then, and the woman's arm leave his shoulders. As the Aberrant found the door and unlocked it, he stepped out into the cold marshes. He had to think on this, the tempting idea. He wished for counsel. K'Rhenne turned toward the warmth of the sun. He navigated slowly, meticulously through this rough, cold ground. Cold and dry was unpleasant enough but he didn't desire to misstep and fall into the icy marshwaters.

K'Rhenne a'Noctis travelled south, straight south, and silently begged to hear Zor-Sithis' comforting voice.

Random Chance of Destiny
Silence, My Brother

"Whoever blushes is already guilty. True innocence is ashamed of nothing."
--Jean-Jacques Rousseau





The door was open. K'Rhenne walked through, knowing next to nothing of what he was getting into. Still, the comfort of Zor-Sithis' voice had been enough to convince him. Killing wasn't something he always took joy in ? War was one thing. Defence was another. He shuddered to admit that when he had found truly evil beings....he did enjoy taking their lives. He enjoyed ending them, knowing he was taking someone out of this world that this world could indeed, do without.
It was what he was good at, what he was meant to do. A counterbalance to the team of five he would never meet.

He approached a larger room, guided by the woman's voice.

?Ah, at last. I hope you found the place all right.?

?What...happens now?? K'Rhenne asked hesitantly.

?Well,? she smiled. ?What happens now is that you start your new life in the Dark Brotherhood. You're part of the Family, after all. This, as you can...see...is our Sanctuary. You won't find a safer place in all of Skyrim. So get comfortable.?

K'Rhenne nodded in silence, offering an almost-smile at the woman's hesitance to point out a sense he clearly did not have.

?This one never asked...What shall Khajiit call you??

?Ah, dear brother. My name is Astrid. You are??

K'Rhenne perked both ears. ?This one is Renne. K'Rhenne a'Noctis, a name gifted by Khajiiti of Elsweyr.?

?You're not the usual Khajiit I've found. Neither Cathay, Suthay or their Raht. What breed, if I may pry?? Astrid smiled.

?This one is Aberrant. Dagithay-Raht.?

?A what?? Her pale eyebrows rose in curiosity.

?Aberrant. This one is the first Dagithay-Raht.?

Astrid chuckled. ?Ohh, I see. Dagi-Raht, the primeval breed in the trees, rocks and deserts. Yet Suthay, for your gait. Am I right??

?Yes...that is what this one was named.?

?Interesting...?

K'Rhenne shuffled a foot. ?This one is curious. How did Astrid come to be here??

He wasn't prepared for her casual response.

"This Sanctuary has been my entire life since I was a young woman. That's when I first discovered my, shall we call it "aptitude," for elimination. I had an uncle, you see. He made certain... unwanted advances. So I killed him. And liked it. Then I killed again. And liked it even more. And so on. I was recruited by the Dark Brotherhood, and have been here ever since. I met my husband Arnbjorn, rose to leadership. And now here we are."

K'Rhenne bowed his head. ?This one is glad an aggressor was removed.?

The woman patted his shoulder in an almost endearing fashion.

?Down to business, shall we? I'm arranging a job for you, but I need some more time. Go speak to Nazir. He may have some smaller contracts to tide you over. Soon, the Night Mother will arrive, and things are bound to get even more interesting. Ah, but one last thing. A welcome-home present: The armour of the Dark Brotherhood. May it serve you well in all your...endeavours.? She turned around for a moment, then handed K'Rhenne a neatly folded set of leather clothes. His ears gave a twitch.

?I hope they'll fit you, my little brother.?

?How is this one's size known??

Astrid chuckled. ?I take measurements of every potential Brother or Sister, silly kitty.?

K'Rhenne blushed a vibrant sky-blue. Ah, right. That made sense.

?Be sure to introduce yourself to your new Family members. They're all very eager to meet you.? Astrid flashed one last smile and left K'Rhenne to his own devices. The Khajiit listened to her move, then sit down, presumably at a table.

He turned then, and navigated onward toward the sound of merriment within this cavernous Sanctuary.

?Haaa, ha ha! Again! Again! Do the part where he tries to buy you some candy!? A male voice with a slight reptilian hiss.

"Okay, okay. Wait. Here we go. "Ooh, you are such a pretty little girl. Would the sweetie like a sweetie? Oh yes, how about some chocolate?" Oh yes, please, kind sir. My mama and papa left me all alone, and I'm so very hungry. I know a shortcut to the candy shop. Through this alley. Oh ya, very good. Very good. My it is dark down here. Oh, but you are so beautiful. Such a lovely smile. Your teeth...! No! Aggghh!" A child? Somehow, this disturbed him a trifle. He sniffed the air again, letting his still snake-like tongue flick for a better taste. Old...a child only in voice.

"Oh Babette, but you are so wicked." Another woman.

"What about you, Festus? How did that last contract turn out?" Another male, with the stink of human scent.

"Oh, yes, please, old man. Regale us with your tales of wizardry..." A third male...human but K'Rhenne detected a faint scent of something other, like the ?child? but somehow not like her.

"Ah, the young and stupid. Always mocking the experienced and brilliant. My contract went very well, I'll have you know. Tried a new spell. Little something I've been working on in my spare time. Came "this" close to turning that priest inside out. Damned messy." Another human male...Older. Curmudgeonly.

"And what of your latest, Arnbjorn. Something about a Khajiit? Merchant was it?"

"Oh, a big doggy chasing a little kitty! How adorable!" Dog... Hmm. That explained the 'other' scent. The male called Arnbjorn was a werewolf. He sniffed for the 'child' again. Alive yet not... K'Rhenne almost shed a tear. A vampire.

"Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!"

"I am not adorable, it was not funny, and he wasn't a merchant. He was a Khajiit monk, a master of the Whispering Fang style. But now he's dead... and I have a new loincloth!"

K'Rhenne took a moment to try on this new armour of his. It wasn't the stiff, restricting thing he had expected, though he still couldn't wear the boots. He made a mental note to convert them later to his foot configuration.
Once attired, the Khajiit Aberrant entered the larger chamber with this group of assassins. He heard the deeper-voiced human male approach him.

?So you're the newest member to our dwindling, dysfunctional little family. I've heard quite a bit about you.?

K'Rhenne blinked, holding his tongue.

?Ahh, going for the mysterious and brooding thing, hmm? That maywork for your targets, but you'll find I'm not so easily impressed."

"Astrid sent Khajiit to Nazirrr for work."

"Did she, now? Well, as it turns out, there are a few lingering contracts we haven't had the chance to complete just yet. And more, dribbling in from time to time. I'll assign them to you as they become available. To be completed at your leisure."

"There is...no deadline for Khajiit?"

"No, my furry friend, there isn't. Well, unless you count the target dying before you get to them, but that doesn't happen all too often."

K'Rhenne nodded. Part of him almost dreaded who the contracts might be out on, but he listened to Nazir first. He could check them out himself soon enough.

?Well then, let's get started. I've got three available right now. Your targets are the beggar Narfi, an ex-miller named Ennodius Papius, and Beitild, a mine boss. When you've completed all those, we'll see if I might have some more."

A beggar? The Khajiit Aberrant's eyes widened. He didn't think to stop himself from speaking up.

?A...beggar? Why would one wish to slay a beggar??

Nazir shrugged and shook his head. ?You'd have to ask the one who sent the contract.?

?May Khajiit know this??

?I'm afraid not. We never ask names of those who come to us ? Confidentiality, you see. But from what Astrid's told me, you can find out yourself. Not all who are contracted out are innocent, you know. You might want to drop that noble attitude of yours if you expect to survive here. We're assassins. Killers. It's what we do.?

K'Rhenne said nothing. Slowly, he navigated, in a seemingly wandering way. He found his way to another floor, then down again. The rustling of an animal caught his ear and he moved toward it. Down wooden steps, he noted the scent and touch of spider's silk.
The spider in question was a large thing, large enough that, as it grazed his leg, K'Rhenne fancied he could ride upon its back. He shook his head at the thought ? none could replace Ty'Rekh. As he sat down, offering to pet the creature, he never noticed a single tear escape his eye at the thought of Ty'Rekh.

?That's Lis.?

K'Rhenne gave a twitch of his ear and turned his head up a little. The child-yet-not-child spoke, sitting on the floor above him.

?She's a nice companion. She likes dartwing as a treat.?

?Dart-wing??

?Yeah, here.? He held out his other hand and felt a large insect drop into his grasp.

?Feed her with your hand flat,? the un-child directed. He did as she asked and found himself smiling as the spider called Lis supped away at the treat in his hand whilst not mistaking his fingers for food in the process.

?You'll love it here. We're a little dysfunctional, but we're not what Skyrim says about us. I've never killed anyone innocent, you know.?

?You have not??

?No. I heard from Astrid that you were hesitant when she pulled the ol' 'Choose your own victim' gag with you.?

?So...who is it the Brotherhood targets??

?Oh, usually criminals the law refuses to get at. Rich traders taking advantage of townfolk, abusers like old Grelod. Skyrim isn't an easy place to survive in, but I think you'll manage.?

?This one...thanks you for the assurance. The beggar has Khajiit worried.?

?Yeah, I can see how that might bug you. But don't worry...you'll do fine. The name's Babette, by the way.?

?This one is Renne. K'Rhenne a'Noctis.?

?Pleasure to meet you.?

K'Rhenne offered a watery smile to the un-child beside him. Absently stroking Lis' spider-hair, he let his mind drift. The contracts seemed simple, but if anything recent was something to go on, nothing was to be simple here in this harsh land.

Random Chance of Destiny
First Contracts: Act of Mercy
-Dated: May 13, 2014 Rhy'Din Standard Calendar-

"Sweet mercy is Nobility's true badge."
--William Shakespeare





...all are one.

The whisper was a comforting thing, fading slowly as K'Rhenne awoke. None of the Brotherhood approached him as he did, though a few did murmur softly to him. They made way for their newest Family member, seeming both nervous and a little reverent.
Festus kept his distance, whispering about things too ancient for any of Tamriel to know. Babette and Gabriella prayed in low tones, using a language K'Rhenne was not familiar with.

?My tears join yours, Land-Strider,? Veezara's words greeted K'Rhenne as he left his bed for the main part of the Sanctuary.

?Careful out there, Morsel,? Arnbjorn seemed a little too fervent in repairing the axe he was working on.

K'Rhenne only nodded to them as he left the Sanctuary. His mind was in two places at once, mourning his Bond-Brother even after fourteen years, and on the contracts to come. This was his life now, for who knew how long. And, despite the eccentricities of his new colleagues ? perhaps because of them ? K'Rhenne felt a shred of peace.
The open air and a comforting tickle in his head greeted him as the little assassin slipped through the almost-city of Falkreath. Zor-Sithis whispered a brief geography of the land he now found himself in and K'Rhenne almost wondered, if Falkreath was so small, why was is significant enough to be called a Hold?
History, and the largest cemetery in the country could do that.

He continued north, crossing through the charred remains of Helgen. It was somehow fitting that the little town remained as it was, forever a reminder of what had begun here.
The road took him on, around a mountain that held an unusual smell to it, as if this one mountain was somehow not like the others in this region. It smelled different, as if the subtle scent indicated some great power at its peak. It was however, a thing to be investigated later on. He rounded the imposing peak and crept into the little town of Ivarstead.

His target lay just ahead.

K'Rhenne crossed a calmer part of the river that separated him from the poor babbling man that was his target. He listened to this man's quiet ramblings for a little; a sadness creeping into him.

?Narfi sad. Reyda leaves and Narfi didn't get to say goodbye. Went to gather plants and never came home. Nope, nope...?

K'Rhenne shuddered, shedding a silent tear. How was he to kill someone like that? Someone whose mind was clearly plagued by loss as his has often been? At the edge of the river, K'Rhenne dropped to his knees and prayed hard.

?This one cannot slay him! Please, Lord Zor-Sithis, what should be done??

?It is most terrible. Who would wish him dead, indeed? Still, perhaps a path around this can be uncovered. Go, speak to him. Be gentle.?

...all are One.

The Khajiit Aberrant gulped, pushed down his own sadness, his own impact from this muttering man, and found the door to the sad remains of his house. He barely heard the final, whispering echo of another voice that had added itself to Zor-Sithis' own counsel.

?Yes, yes? Narfi comes. Reyda? Is it Reyda??

?This one is not Reyda. This one wishes to speak.?

?Narfi has not had company in so long. Reyda is gone, was nice to Narfi. Will you be nice to Narfi??

?This one wishes to be,? K'Rhenne's voice was laced with the truth he spoke and, much as he tried to hide it, the unwillingness to carry out the contract he'd been given.

?Narfi does not understand. Is...Is Reyda angry with Narfi?? the beggar trembled.

?This one has found out, someone wishes to end Narfi. This one does not wish to do this. Narfi seems a gentle being,? the Aberrant answered. He held out his hands; the right one only holding his cane, in an attempt to show that he indeed, meant no harm.

?Want Reyda, no sleep for Narfi, sleep, sleep, nope, nope, no sleep. You will not harm Narfi? Take Narfi to Reyda??

?Who is Reyda??

?Sister of Narfi. Narfi said goodbye to Mother, to Father, but not to Reyda.?

K'Rhenne could not help the tear that fell from his eyes. Gone that long in this land could only mean a few things and one wasn't likely. It wasn't likely that the beloved sister of this man would have up and gone somewhere without him. So that left the alternative...The poor girl was dead.
He prayed again, unaware that a ghost had appeared in the dilapidated fireplace. The spectre frowned, watching her brother in quiet grief.

?No! This one cannot take his life!?

?Hush, my charge. Please, calm yourself. Listen to what is around you. Listen, and know that he is not alone.?

?...Another being. Not alive??

?She is not alive, but she has the Eternal Soul, that which you seek so desperately to know, to find.?

?Does he??

?Yes.?

?What...what could Khajiit do? There is innocence here...?

?Perhaps the contract wishes an act of mercy. It is not generally advised, but it is safe. The eternal soul shall find reunion with that whom he misses. I ask you only, that you are gentle. Treat him well in his final moments, and tell him the truth.?

?This one will do so. And this one will mourn his pain.?

Narfi reached out, tugging curiously at K'Rhenne's cane. ?Narfi doesn't understand, no, no. What is this, if not to hurt Narfi??

?Ah, this? This is to help K'Rhenne see. K'Rhenne does not have eyes to see with.?

?Yes, yes you do. Narfi sees your eyes...?

?They cannot see, Narfi.?

?The eyes cannot see Narfi at all??

?No. They see nothing at all.?

?Narfi cries for visitor-friend. Narfi cries, yes.?

?Please. Narfi need not cry. K'Rhenne is happy as Khajiit is. This is how Khajiit has always been. K'Rhenne brings Narfi food. Eat with Khajiit??

?Oh, yes, please! Narfi will eat, save some for Reyda too??

?Of course.?

They sat together as K'Rhenne brought forth a modest feast for himself and the beggar. It was a simple meal, but a satisfying one that he hoped Narfi would find pleasing. Cheese, fresh bread, apples, a hearty stew and a rare cream treat for dessert was shared, though little was actually daid during the meal.

?Narfi says thank you, Visitor-friend. Narfi had good food with Visitor-friend. May Narfi go to sleep now??

?Yes. This one believes Reyda will return when Narfi awakens,? K'Rhenne spoke these words with an ease he didn't feel. Inside, he wept for this poor man; inside he found himself angry. Angry at the contract, at himself for being an instrument in this, angry at the whole idea that this could be seen as mercy.
Narfi smiled at his visitor, unaware of the torment going on within K'Rhenne's own head. The beggar's smile remained as K'Rhenne stood, and upon finding the man, took his arm and led him to his bed. K'Rhenne felt strange doing this, but he did so anyway. The man was on his last legs and, like many others so unfortunate, had no one to pull him out of the despair that had driven this man beyond the edge.

?Narfi likes Visitor-friend. Stay with Narfi until Reyda comes??

?This one will stay until then. Sleep.?

Narfi the beggar drifted into peaceful sleep, dreaming of his beloved sister and his visitor. The beggar never felt a thing as K'Rhenne took his life in the most silent, the gentlest of ways he knew. For all anyone else would know, the man died in his sleep and went to a happier place, reuniting with his sister.
K'Rhenne kept his word that night as he wept over the beggar's body, crying out forgiveness to those he held above himself. He mourned the beggar's misfortunes that night and buried his body in nothing but flowers and scented herbs.

The Aberrant never saw the ghost Reyda embrace her brother, reunited in death as they had been separated in life.

Random Chance of Destiny
Weight of Life
--Dated: May 18, 2014 Rhy'Din Standard Calendar--

"The past makes you who you are. It should not be your burden."
--Jun Bao/Zhang San Feng; T'ai Chi Master





K'Rhenne dreamed again.

He had a final contract, located in the frozen northern wastelands of this nation called Mereth, called Skyrim. He journeyed north, intending on completing his duty. His intent however, was nothing against the bitter cold that crept up on him with each mile he progressed. Snows fell with a slow, inexorable ferocity that only the arctic regions of any world knew.

He was tired, admittedly. So very tired.

K'Renne walked another half-mile before the cold took his feet out from beneath him.


?You fool! Get up. Get up and turn around.?

?Forgive this one. This one desires sleep.?

?It is too cold for you. I will lend some strength, but you must not sleep. Now get up!?.


The dream was all too brief, urgent as it was with his mentor's voice thundering down at him. He didn't feel the semi-aethereal arms drag him to his feet. He almost didn't feel the forceful push, turning him in the opposite direction. South. Not north.
K'Rhenne clung to his oversized cloak and moved. He was stiff, slow, but he moved. His mind wandered as he moved, limbs running on autopilot for all he could bring himself to care. His mind went to a thousand places, made aimless by the dizzying cold.

?Th-this one... Khaj-jjiiit wonders...the day...?

His teeth chattered mercilessly, rendering verbal speech almost impossible. His mentor kept those not-quite-solid arms on him and his voice kept echoing in the Aberrant's head.

?It is the eighteenth...?

?Th-this one...knows the day....?

?Familiar to you, yes. The day you were first bestowed with the NightRunner name. It is fitting then, that you shall not perish this day. Now move!?

?This one...yes. Yes.?

?Keep going, damn you! Do not stop!?

Zor-Sithis pushed him. Kept pushing him. Southward he went, barely feeling the ice and snow decrease with each step south. The ground beneath began to dry out, and the being pushed him harder. From Haafingar to Whiterun, he pushed his charge.
K'Rhenne kept going. He fell at every change in the ground, but he kept going until he reached the edge of Falkreath Hold.

It was there that his feet gave out entirely.


?Veezara! Over here,? Babette's voice called to her Argonian companion.

?By the Hist!? The exclamation was barely out of his mouth before the former Shadowscale swept his Khajiit Aberrant brother into his arms. He turned around, not needing to wait for Babette as he raced for the Sanctuary.


?By Sithis. What happened, Veezara?? Gabriella raced to the nearest firepit as Festus Krex moved off to fetch Astrid.

?I don't know. Babette and I found him like this, outside of Falkreath.?

?He's like ice. Put him nearest the fires.?

Astrid and Arnbjorn stood beside Babette as the others stoked a massive fire, practically surrounding K'Rhenne in it. As the fires reached a steady roar, they spoke in hushed, low tones.

?I'm sorry, Astrid. I was a fool to send him on those.?

?No, Nazir...none of us knew he can't handle the cold. When he wakes up, we need him to tell us what he can and cannot survive. This is too close for comfort, Brother. He's a good assassin. Merciful even, which is unheard of in our line of work,? Arnbjorn put in.

?Little bastard can't handle magic, I know that much,? Festus grumped.

?He can't handle...? How in Sithis' name has he survived this long, then?? Gabriella wondered.

?I don't know. But we must ensure this doesn't happen again.?

?Astrid??

?Yes, Veezara??

?You will not believe this. He managed two of the contracts before the cold got to him.?

Their voices faded off as the group dispersed within the Sanctuary. Veezara took up a place by the fires. The Argonian couldn't understand why, but he was drawn to his Aberrant little brother. He kept a quiet vigil that night, wondering how the Dark Brotherhood was going to deal with a Family member such as K'Rhenne a'Noctis.

Random Chance of Destiny
The Sound of Thunder
--Dated: June 20, 2014 Rhy'Din Standard Calendar--

"When ghosts of the past haunt the present, it speaks of shadows as yet brought into lighted corridors."






Thunder rolled overhead.

It churned the sky into ominous clouds K'Rhenne a'Noctis would never see. It clashed with lightning as he neared his target.

He smelled this Argonian male, listened to him speak. He smelled and heard others around this man, but listened only peripherally. They spoke of an attack. They spoke of a family, unorthodox as that family was, and K'Rhenne listened to them. He heard different names, a different place. He heard different lives, but the intent was all the same ? these were lives that were on the line, about to be cut short. Two males, a female and three hatchlings who had only just tasted of the Hist.
The Aberrant's mind shot back as a particularly loud crack of thunder pierced the sky.

He hated thunder. He hated what thunder reminded him of.

He heard other names. Other words. Felt another pain, old, familiar and despised.

Unlike the ghosts of his past, he wouldn't leave any member of this family behind. None were expendable.


?'Tis a shame Jaree-Shee left for Valenwood. I suppose he won't miss his dear sister.?

?Elimination of one cog will free the machine. You will go 'round to the front, Sleeps-in-Water. Darkeetha, go with him. Sillian and Zarlath, meet them on the flank.?

Laughter.

?Yes. Now, how will you eliminate the hatchlings? The little abominations have already been embraced by the Hist.?

?Ah, now that is why I visited Cyrodiil last year, Scouts-Deep-Marsh. I learned alchemy, and the perfect poison. I will take care of that. It is time. Come with me.?


K'Rhenne was on them like a shadow under a new moon. Silently, he took Darkeetha's ears and eyes before slitting her throat. He didn't hear Darkeetha the Argonian. He heard a name in his head that he hated with a burning passion; a name that had disappeared without a trace. Without a chance at revenge.

He took Sleeps-in-Water's head with a quick back-twist. The sound was a reminder of cracking wood.

Scouts-Deep-Marsh stood warily as two of his companions fell. The reptilian drew a wickedly curved blade, alert to a threat that hadn't existed only minutes ago. Slitted eyes trained on a bluish shadow and he went for it, carving the air downward, intending to bury his blade in this shadow's back.
He buried it in his own belly, dead before the shock expressed itself on his face.

?Who is there?? Sillian and Zarlath came together as an oppressive silence took the marsh. They were paranoid by nature, but one could never be too careful in a mission like this.

?Zarlath, go ahead. I will take care of our pest,? Sillian hissed.

He never heard Zarlath fall in the darkness of the swamps.