No rest for the wicked

  • The dark streets of Windhelm are battered with the wind and snow. The Nord, a male, rubs his hands together by the dying brazier in a futile attempt to keep warm. If one would walk past him, they would either turn their heads in disgust, or feel pity. What was once steel was replaced by rags, and face that once made his enemies run in fear was replaced by one that is haggard and unkempt.

    As the wind howled, the snow beat relentlessly at the man, as if to punish him for a crime that he had done a long time ago. However, revenge of the fallen that he has once slain came in many forms, like a whisper, vengeance came in the form of an arrow, and fell short due to the sudden change of the wind. The Nord turned, but could not make out who had fired what would have been his end. 

    Brandishing a sword, the assassin came out of the fog, the Nord recognized the armor that his assailant wore, it was of one who he had fought many times with. It was an assassin of the Dark Brotherhood. Once he would have removed his foes' head by axe, but now the only chance he had was to choose flight. The assassin was faster than the Nord, but what happened next was unexpected to both, with a slight humming sound and the sound of steel slicing through flesh, the hand that held the blade clattered on the floor. 

    The assassin let out a cry and clutched his stump. He looked around for the Nord, but he probably had already been long gone. The assassin draped himself onto the ground, laying as still as possible, hoping that whoever disarmed him would pass him due to the snow cover. He was wrong.

    He felt a boot on his back and a voice saying "Official Brotherhood business, eh?" It chuckled and continued. "I'm sorry but that sort of thing is against the law, now come quietly, or else your target wouldn't be the only thing lost."

    It was a Nord's voice, but it was slightly muffled, it must have belonged to a guard. The assassin cursed himself for being careless, letting his arrogance get to him, and now he's in an even worst state than his target. The assassin licked his covered lips and said "How about this? I pay you and you let me go, as if nothing ever happened?"

    "You take me for a fool?" said the guard. He could feel the guard's boots leaving his back now, but before he got the chance to push himself up, he was lifted off the ground and tossed to one side like a doll. The assassin felt shock for the first time, how could a Nord be so strong? 

    He slammed into the wall, and slid down onto his rump, he shook away the grogginess and now started up at the guard. The new Nord towered over him, one hand holding his sword, the other holding an axe. The Nord raised the sword, and the assassin closed his eyes. So this is how it ends, killed by his own sword. Oh, the irony. A clattering of metal made him open his orbs.

    Instead of jamming the sword into the assassin's stomach and finishing him off, the Nord has tossed the sword to the assassin's other hand. The Nord took off his helmet and said "Come, lets see if you're as good as they say you are. I haven't had a good fight in a long time."

    The assassin grabbed his sword with his remaining arm, and stood up. "Very well, foolish Nord."

    As he soon as finished the sentence, he dashed at the Nord, sword ready. Steel met steel and the sound echoed through the streets. A Nordic battlecry, and the all to familiar "For Sithis," rang through the night.

    The fight did not last very long, the sword felt clumsy in the assassin's hand, and the Nord was strangely faster than what the assassin had seen before, the sword was hooked away by the war axe. He could have sworn the Nord's skin turned red, and a pair of ram's horns grew from the "Nord's" forehead.

    "Tell Sithis that Marbel does not appreciate you taking those that belong to her."

Comments

1 Comment
  • Wellin the Havkin Blooded
    Wellin the Havkin Blooded   ·  March 15, 2014
    I sorta rushed this one...