Tulen and Veezara walked to the stables of Whiterun and discovered the carriage was sitting at the entrance of the stable
Bjorlam holding the reins. They called out to him, waving at him. He returned the gesture and asked if they needed a lift
to anywhere in particular. Veezara smiled at him and said where he would like to go. Tulen saw this and whacked him on the nose
with his fist.
Veezara turned to him, rubbing his aching nose,
"Tulen, what was that for?"
Tulen scolded him while he looked down his snout at him,
"That." He said, harshly, "Was for being an ignorant asshole."
Tulen told Veezara that something as simple as a smile can be mistaken for baring one's teetth. He found a stool leaning against the
side of the stable interior, grabbed it and brought it over to Veezara and told him to sit while pointing at the seat. The lizard did so,
he was about to ask why but he was cut short by Tulen. The Argonian walked over to Bjorlam and apologized for his friends'
deplorable manners,
"I am so sorry sir." He said, bowing low. "For my friend's rather insensitive behavior." He shot Veezara a dirty look
When he was done rectifying the grievous mistake his friend had made, he returned to the stoll and advised Veezara to try again,
but instead of smiling to try to communicate with his tail while keeping his facial expression as neutral as possible.
Veezara took a deep breath and approoached Bjorlam for a second time,
"Sir, my friend and I would like to hire your carriage." While he said this. his tail swayed gently from side to side
He looked back to see Tulen giving two enthusiastic thumbs up while his tail did some kind of whirlwind behind him. Satisfied,
Veezara turned back to Bjorlam, who crossed his arms and gave Veezara a questioning look,
"I don't loan my carriage out to anyone. That person must have a legitamite reason and 'taking the cart for a spin' or 'joyride' is not
a valid answer. Bjorlam got out of the driver's set and poked Veezara in the cheest, "So, care to tell me why you want it?"
Veezara huffed loudly and gave him what he thought was a really great reason,
"Sir, we request passage to Falkreath." He told him, with a tiny bow
Bjorlam's face screwed up in disgust at this,
"Please, calling me sir makes me feel old. Call me Bjorlam, I insist." He said, smiling. "Get your face out of the dirt, I am not a Jarl."
Veezara quickly straightened up and apologized on both counts. He strode back to Tulen and told him that Bjorlam gave the okay to
get in. The two Argonians got in back while Bjorlam resumed his seat. He picked up the reins, snapped them once causing the horrse
to rear up and trot down the cobblestone road.
Bjorlam looked back at the and smiled,
"So, what's at Faklreath? Anything interesting?
Tulen was about to say the dark brotherhood sanctuary but a scaly fist collided with his left shoulder causing him to groan,
"Hssss! That hurt, what was that for?" He asked Veezara
The dark skinned Argonian fixed him with a stern look,
"You almost gave away the top secret location of the guild."
Tulen shrugged with a stupid exression on his face,
"Oops, did it do that? Sorry, How was I to know you had to keep quiet when talking about such things?"
Veezara cursed Tulen to Oblivion,
"Xuth! Tulen, just...don't talk for the rest of the trip okay?" He asked the stubborn Argonian, frustrated
Tulen made good on his word to keep his lips zipped for the rest of the trip to avoid sinking the ship, er, carriage. The horse sped on
to the destination, seemingly racing against the very fabric of the universe in order to deliver the two Argonians to their destination
on time. The only thing was they did not need to be at the Falkreath sanctuary at any given time, they just had to show up. Bjorlam
and Veezara talked about every topic under the sun in order to make the carriage ride go faster.
At long last, they reach a hill of sorts where hidden underneath was the entrance to the sanctuary. Veezara asked Bjorlam if he could
drop them off at the front door. The nord nodded and spurred the horse to life. It trotted down the sloped cobblestone road and
stopped just before the black pool of water to ensure that it did not fall in.
Veeezara discreetly handed Bjorlam fifty septims including their carriage fee of five septims each. The nord looked stunned at the
money Veezara just handed him along with a warm smile. Bjorlam shook his head and attempted to put the coin purse back into
Veezara's outstretched claw.
Veezara shook his head and thrust the purse into the nord's chest,
"No, my dry skin fellow, you keep it, I insist." He closedd his clawed handed on the nord's hand and the purse
Bjorlam shrugged and pocketed the coin purse because it was useless to argue on the matter. Veezara and Tulen dismounted the
carriage, waved goodbye to Bjorlam and when his carriage disappeared around the corner, they approached the black door.
"What is the music of life?" came the door's standard riddle
Tulen thought on this a moment and went out on a limb,
"I dunno, er, screaming?" The door stayed silent
Veezara chuckled ffrom behind him and told him to move. Again, the door repeated the riddle,
"Silence, my brother." The Argonian replied as if he had been rehearsing for this exact moment
The door creaked open, allowing them to pass, as Veezara walked past the stunned Argonian, he clipped him on the back of the
head. "Welcome. Home." the door's greeting echoed through the dungeonesque entryway they both found themselves in. Tulen saw,
leaning against an archway with steps leading down into the main room, a nord female. She smiled sweetly at him,
"Welll, well who have we here?"
Tuulen proudly announced himself, bowing,
"Tulen, nice to meet you." He extended a claw toward her, half expecting her to shake it
To his surprise, she didn't Veezara leant against the desk, chuckling,
"Tulen, this is Astrid we're talking about, not some fountain of warmth and kind-hearted sentiments, geez."
He looked over and saw Tulen had a gobsmacked expression on his face and Veezara just ignored him and approached Astrid. the
nord turned towards the argonian and asked how his current contract was faring. He shook his head and pointed at Tulen,
smirking,
"I was just helping the initiate get wet behind the ears, so to speak."
Astrid turned to Tulen and gawked at him,
"So how did you do on your entry contract?"
Tulen shrugged and told Astrid the tale of his first kill. Astrid smriked and punched him in the shoulder, he groaned,
"Good job, I do hope you contract was not too stressful." She thought on this a moment, "Who did you have to kill?"
Before Tulen told her of his kill, he decided to give her a bit of backstory first. He decided to leave the unimportant bits from his
story but decided to leave the bits about him being part of the silver hand in because he felt it was crucial to his tale of the werewolf
slaughter that happened in the bannered mare.
"We have a lycantrope here who happens to be my husband." Her eyes bore into his, "So I don't want any trouble, got it?" She
poked him hard in the chest.
Astrid went down the steps, into a hidden room and returned with folded crimson and black armor the same look and feel of leather
armor. She told Tulen to try on the armor to see if it fit. He told everyone in the room to turn away as he undid his imperial greaves
and tossed them into the leather bag that lay open in the corner of the room. Moments later, the cuirass and boots joined them.
Tulen tried on the armor, which consisted of a black hood, a skin-tight crimson and black bodysuit and equally form fitting gloves and
boots. He told everyone they was turn around. They did so and roared with laughter as his tail was trying and failing to poke through
the bodysuit,
"Whoever designed this obviously designed it for humans and elves and less so for beast races." He said, slightly enraged
Veezara came up behind the argonian and groaned,
"Astrid..." He said, turning to her, "You forgot to stock up on beast race bodysuits, you only have human bodysuits."
Veezara shooed the nord away to go see if she had any beast race ones with a hole in the ass region for the tail,
"Astrid, be a good little nord and get some proper beast crimson and black bodysuits, there's a good girl."
Astrid groaned and slunk away to the same room she came from moments before. Hopefully she would get it through her thick skull
and bring back the right bodysuit. The Argonian turned back to the struggling Tulen and thought for a moment. An idea had struck
him, he carved a hole in the pants around the indentation of Tulen's tail. To his surprise, the material cut rather easily. Veezara
beamed with pride as Tulen managed to poke his tail through the hole.
Tulen sighed with relief and massaged his tail, lifting and lowering it as it celebrated his newfound freedom,
"Ahhh...thank Bal, that's better." He turned around and thanked Veezara
The Argonian's dark green skin turned a red color,
"You're welcome Tulen, you seemed to be in distress, so I decided to help you out."
Moments later, Astrid returned with a modified body suit,
"Here you go Tulen, some new-" She gawked at Tulen's body suit and cursed, "By the dread father," She rounded on Veezara; eyes
ablaze, "You sneaky serpent, how dare you send me to get a body suit just so you could obtain the glory for yourself." Her face was
as red and hot as the fires of Oblivion
Veezara smirked in triumph and he watched Tulen adjusting his body suit to fit a bit better. Astrid giggled as a green clawed hand
adjusting the crotch of the pants which bunched up so tightly that Tulen feared his testicles would turn blue, if, in fact, he had any.
Argonians did not have genitals. To a fairly uninformed passerby, the Argonian would be mistaken for having no gender because of how
both sexes look the same. This, however, is not true as to a seasoned Argonologist or Tamriel culturualist, they did have features that
denoted their sex.
Astrid broke into fits of the giggles when he did this. Veezara groaned and turned to her,
"Astrid you can be such a thuxis sometimes, ya know that?" He snarled at her
Astrid had a limited grasp of the native tongue of Black Marsh. She cocked her head to the side as testament to her confusion.
Veezara shook his head and told her not to think on it for another second. A hulky, burly nord man climbed the steps behind Astrid, a
bag of his spoils over his shoulder.
He turned to Astrid and smiled widely,
"So, Astrid, how was your day?" He asked her as set the bag down at his feet
Astrid shook her head, causing her light brown hair to sway about like the spindly legs of a betty netch. She told the old nord they
had to forgo that kind of talk as they had an intiate. The male nord raised a grey, hairy eyebrow. Astrid huffed, crossed her arms and
gestured to the Argonian with her head. The nord man strode, in long strides like that of a deer, over to the Argonian still trying to
make his body suit fit.
The nord man; wearing an identical black and crimson suit, tapped the Argonian on the shoulder. He turned around and saw the
nord. with his thickly muscled arms folded against his chest. Tulen could see that his face was fine chizeled, though somewhat
wrinkled with age. He lifted his eye and saw finely curtained shoulder length white hair with a matching beard. Scanning his face,
Tulen cringed a little as he beheld a singular brown eye set into the nord's aged face while his left eye was clear as a cloudless sky.
The nord male eyed the Argonain with utter contempt,
"You must be Tulen, part of the Silver Hand, yeah?" He asked him; an eyebrow raised
Tulen's tail slammed into the stony ground, causing the loose pebbles that had long since broken off from the floor, to clatter,
"I, Tulen son of Itanshek, happen to be the leader of The Silver Hand." He yelled back at the nord male, "Who the fuck are you?" He
spat back.
The nord male was steadily get redder as each word hit him like a warhammer,
"I am one of those filthy beasts your disgusting guild claim to hunt." The nord enxtended his hand and smirked, "By the way, I'm
Arnbjorn, a werewolf."
Astrid groaned in disgust and stepped between them as she sensed tempers were flaring,
"Look, this is the dark brotherhood not the companions. Leave your grudges at the door... or else." Astrid's eyes narrow at the both or
them. "Got it? If I catch news of a mauling or a silver blade through the gut and I will kick the offender out of the guild and I do not
want to be the bad guy here."
Astrid turned and checked if that was clear with both her husband and Tulen; they nodded.
"Good. Arnbjorn get downstairs, there is a new contract I want you to take on, Tulen, I want you downstairs to, erm, meet the
family."
They did as she ordered. Tulen's tail hid between his legs as he descended the steps in the stony room. Well, it was less a room and
more a cavern with people spaced out here and there, doing various activities like alchemy, assassination training or archery. Tulen
was awed at the sheer size of the cavernous room and marveled at the sound of rushing water as a waterfall flowed down into a pool
of water at the far end of the room. What he did not know however was that the dark brotherhood was a sanctioned
assassination orgization, much like the Morag Tong of Morrowind which he was also a member of, but, this one was sactioned by the
werewolf hunting guild that he was a part of.
Tulen had no idea why a werewolf would be working with the silver hand to help them eliminate other werewolves. Perhaps Arnbjorn
is a pureblood werewolf and wants to help rid Nirn of mutts whose blood has sullied the bloodline he thought. This, however, was
not true because werewolves are not 'pure' and they do not abide by who is pureblood and who is not. Certain werewolves are what
are called 'mutts' or, to put it simply, werewolves with something else mixed into their dna.
They are also those werewolves, like Tulen and others who are what are called 'rogues,' wolves that live by their own rules or live on the
fringe of society; often seen walking the very fine line between right and wrong. The 'grey area' between light and dark.
Arnbjorn walked to a dusty workshop rife with plumes of dust and debris permeating the air and told Tulen who was behind him to sit
on the edge of the forge that was belching smoke in the corner by the armorer's bench. The Argonian did so and looked expectantly at
the burly nord like a child who's grandparent was about to telling them a particularly interesting story.
Arnbjorn lent back against the polished metal top of the workbench and noticed Tulen's uneasy expression,
"So, you thought we were your normal, run of the mill assasins? He laughed a bit, "Hardly, we are werewolf hunters. We work for the
Silver Hand. If they need someone who can eliminate wolves and their whelps with tactfulness." He pounded on his chest, "They
call us."
Tulen eyed him; a bit confused,
"Well, that is all well and good but why does a werewolf kill their own kind?" He licked his lips, "I mean, what does he, you sorry,
have to gain from it?"
Arnbjorn studied the Argonian's expression for a long time, when he answered, he tried to be as earnest as possible,
"Well, I know people may see the wolf as a blessing, but, not me." He said, shaking his head, "I am old and when I die, I want to
join my fellow nords in the Hall of Valor, not spend my afterlife hunting for the god of manbeasts."
He sighed, walked over to a small desk near where Tulen sat and sat down in the wooden chair.
"I mean, sure, for some people hunting for all eternity will be fine." He put his head in his hands, sighing again, "For me, however,
I have a greater place in mind." He turned to Tulen and smiled broadly, "That is why I struck a deal with Molag Bal, actually it was
he who made the deal. "Offer me your service and I promise, I will find a way to cure you."
Tulen turned sideways and asked if he honor his side of the bargian. To answer, Arbjorn slowly shook his head, his shoulders
slumped,
"I did what he asked, I killed millions of wolves." His face drooped, "But, Molag Bal has yet to make good on his end of the bargain."
He sighed again, "Here I am, many years later, still holding out hope that someday, Molag Bal will give me what I ask for."
Tulen leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees,
"So, if you don't want to be here, why stick around then? You know Molag Bal will never honor your bargain. So, why stay?"
Arnbjorn frowned and stared into the forge fire,
"I don't know, I know you can't trust Bal as far as you can throw him...." He shrugged and fell silent for a time
Tulen quickly glanced from the burly nord to the workbench which he had occupied minutes before. He saw a dark skinned Argonian
reflected in the polished surface, approaching him. Tulen turned his head, tail swshing side to side as he beheld Veezara, whose tail
was flapping about wildly. Veezara told the concerned Argonian that he had something to show him.
Tulen got up and waved goodbye to Arnbjorn who returned the gesture. Tulen followed Veezara through the room to stairs that led
to an upper area of the room. Tulen scaled the flight of tree branch-like steps behind Veezara and stepped into a new room. This
room had a cavern ceiling, same as the one before. but unlike the subterranean room, a lone bookshelf stood in the far corner filled
with books; most of which had something to do with the subject of lycantropic destruction. Adjacent to the bookshelf was a wooden
table with various implements on it. Tulen eyes went wide as he beheld the silver tools.
Veezara smiled as he saw the mix of curiosity and amazement and he told Tulen to look around while he descended the adjoining
steps which descended in a further sunken room. Tulen looked around. He riffled through the books on the shelf but found
nothing of particular interest. He moved to the table and eyed the silver implements that seemed to be laid down with extreme care.
He heard Veezara and someone else ascending the steps behind him. Veezara cleared his throat, Tulen turned around,
"Tulen, this is Nazeem," He said, gesturing to the newcomer, "He is our head expert on lycanthropes, mutts and their whelps."
Tulen extended his hand and smiled. Nazeem took it, exclaming that it was so good to meet new wolf haters and said the world could use
more of them and less of the horrific monsters. Tulen chuckled at this and said that werewolves are not all bad, but all the same, cannot
be allowed to live.
Nazeem nodded and laughed, squeezing his clawed hand. The redguard could see himself in Tulen's eyes,
"Good, Good, Tulen. If you don't mind me asking, why are you against the wolves? Have a personal vendetta or something?"
Tulen opened his mouth and shut it. He thought that he had this all thought out and even rehearsed it countless times in his head.
Nonetheless, he could not form words to match the ones rehearsed countless times in his head. It took a couple miutes for him to
find his voice,
"I....I...erm," He swallowed hard and tried to calm his nerves along with his wildly thrashing tail. "Ahem, my brother had forsaken
our family patron, Molag Bal for the god of werewolves, that no good Hircine." He snarled, crossing his arms
Nazeem's smile seemed to broaden as he absorbed Tulen tale. The redguard sighed with disdain,
"Are you finished? We have business to attend to. We don't have time for your sad tale of brotherly love." He said, waving his hand
in a dismissive manner.
Tulen's face turned a deep shade of crimson as he apologized,
"Er, sorry, so, erm, what are these?" He asked, pointing to the table with a clawed finger
Nazeem turned around and shuffled the silver tools around like they were playing a game of shells. Tulen watched as he switched the
tools' positions. Round and round they went and covered his eyes with one hand. The redguard reached down blindly with the other hand
for a random tool. Tulen craned his neck to get a better view. He saw what looked like a crossbow bolt with a tip of unknown metal.
Nazeem walked over to him with the bolt in hand.
"Tulen, this is a silver bolt with crushed wolfsbane added to the tip." He said as he showed the Argonian the bolt. "The silver is injected
into the creature's bloodstream, poisoning it and preventing the wound from healing while the wolfsbane, if shot at the heart, can kill the
beast instantaneousl. That mixed with silver incapacitating the beast's healing properties can make for a deadly combinatio.
Tulen studied the bolt with the wolfsbane poison applied to the bolt. Nazeem lent against the left side of the stone archway, smiling as the
Argonian reminded him of a younger version of himself. In his younger days the redguard was a pretty stellar soldier against the
lycantropes many years ago. His weapon of preference to eliminate them was both the crossbow and the silver sword. A tear came
to his eye as he reminisced on the good old days.
He walked to Tulen's left side leaned down and whispered that the bolt that he loaded onto the crossbow was a dummy bolt. Tulen looked
at him with a questioning expression on his face.
"What the hell is a dummy bolt?" He asked
Nazeem sighed and shook his head,
"A 'dummy bolt' is a bolt that had the real silver metal replaced with a pretty solid immitation metal that looks like silver but has
none of the lethal effects." He said as he paced back and forth in front of the table.
Tulen pointed to the five other weapons on the table. Nazeem walked to the table, picking up each weapon and describing how each
one worked. From left to right, he described the crossbow and how it fired silver bolts coated with wolfsbane. He did the same
thing with the silver dagger, silver longsword, silver short bow, silver greatsword and a pair of dwemer goggles.
Tulen walked over to the dwemer goggles laying on the left side of the pinewood table, his face screwed up in confusion,
"So...What do these do?" He asked, pointing to the goggles
Nazeem smiled widely as he gestured to the goggles,
"Ah...These are a very impressive invention." He cleared his throat, "Werewolves are too fast and can evade detection if they want
to. Even the most seasoned, keen eyed hunter cannot track them."
He picked up the goggles and handed them to Tulen,
"What these do is emulate the vision that the wolf has as their third greatest, and weakest, asset. Just short of their
exceptional hearing and sense of smell."
He smiled at him,
"Here, see for yourself." He said handing him the goggles.
Tulen put on the goggles and flicked a small switch on the left side of the goggles. Nothing happened. The Argonian sighed in
despair. Nazeem walked over to Arnbjorn and whispered something to him. Acknowledging his decision, The nord transformed. He
rose six feet in the air, grey fur sprouted all over his body, sharp teeth erupted from his gums and his eyes took on an amber
color. The nord werewolf ran as fast as he could on all fours across the room. Nazeem asked Tulen to pick his weapon.
Tulen walked over to the table and hefted a silver crossbow, loaded a silver bolt coated with wolfsbane and sighted down the crossbow. He
spotted the werewolf with the super powered googles and pulled the trigger. The bolt soared through the air like a bird in flight and caught
the werewolf beneath the ribcage just below the heart. The werewolf howled with pain as the silver entered its bloodstream. The
werewolf's vision blurred as he staggered sideways and fell into the pond below.
Nazeem smiled evilly as the wolfsbane did its job as Arnbjorn stayed in his wolf form. Nazeem and Tulen walked down the steps and
came to the pond where, with a mixed expression of fear and satisfaction, the Argonian saw the grey werewolf laying in the pond,
it's fur saturated with water and its eyes closed.
Tulen cocked its head to Nazeem beside him,
"Is he...is he dead?" He asked with genuine concern
Nazeem shook his head and told Tulen that those were only test bolts, and as such, the silver and wolfsbane will both have a
weakened effect on the werewolf. He also said that if he used a more tempered version of silver, he, or any other lycanthrope would
weaken severely. If the stronger silver were to strike the afflicted's heart, he would quickly succumb to the wound. The wolfsbane just
served to prevent the wound from closing as well as the werewolf from transforming back. He told Tulen all alchemists on Nirn said the
effects of wolfsbane differ between werewolves and new bloods.
The dark green Argonian found a stick leaning against the wall and the bottom step to the upper part of the room, picked it up and walked
toward the clear blue water with the unconscious grey werewolf laying in the middle. He prodded the creature in his side.
To Tulen's surprise, the beast's eyes twitched slightly, telling him that Arnbjorn, or rather his wolf form, was still alive. He saw the creature
stood drunkenly to his feet. Arnbjorn's wolf howled and began to shrink in size. Tulen and Nazeem stood in shock; mouths agape as they
saw his amber eyes becoming their normal shade of gray, fangs turning into normal human teeth, fur disappearing and claws shrinking in
size until they were fingernails once again.
Nazeem turned and started to walk away but, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tulen raise his crossbow and trained it on
Arnbjorn's heart. Nazeem flung himself at Tulen,
"Tulen, what the fuck are you doing? NOOOO!"
A twang sounded followed by a thud and the redguard watched in horror as the body of Arnbjorn slid down the rocky outcrop like a
broken puppet and landed in a heap at the base of the outcrop. Nazeem strode over to where Tulen stood and clipped him on the
back of the head. Nazeem asked why Tulen did that and scolded him, saying that if Astrid saw that someone murdered her husband that
he will be in serious trouble.
Tulen apologized and said that he smelled the local warriors guild on him. Nazeem's face contorted in confusion. Tulen said that they
were the guild in Whiterun that produced the most werewolves out of any guild because they pray to the creator of their ilk, Hircine."
As he said this, he stuck out his tongue in disgust.
Nazeem's face never deviated from it's look of confusion,
"And you killed Arnbjorn...why exactly?"
Tulen huffed annoyedly and practically yelled at the redguard.
"Because he was part of the companions before they discharged him for 'unorthodox behavior'." He shrugged; he had no idea of what
that meant, neither did Nazeem
Nazeem asked him how he knew this and the Argonian told him that Gallows Rock has a well hidden passageway that led to a
library that contains a detailed history of every member of the companions, even the past and present circle members and
harbingers. The room had books dating back to the glenmoril witches placing the blessing on Terrfyg and even back to the date when
Hircine created the lycanthropes.
Nazzem thanked Tulen and said to get some sleep because in the morning they will start training before they went after the real
thing. They both went to the bed chambers as they joined the rest of the Silver Hand assassins as they fell asleep in the beds of various
furs.
