Elda Early-Dawn wiped the thick wooden bar table with a damp cloth, furiously attempting to remove a suspicious red stain from the surface. Fed up she slumped back into a nearby wooden stool, raising a tired hand to wipe away the sweat from her brow. She’d had an awful morning, as she did every morning that blasted ship came to dock; everyone suddenly thought it would be a great idea to destroy Candlehearth Inn, in their attempt to have what they called ‘fun’. One would have thought Elda would raise a pretty sum of money from these raids on her tavern, they’d have thought wrong. In their drunk state the Nords didn’t care for laws and happily stole any drinks they wanted along with her hard earned money, right under her nose.
The inn was close to empty, Luaffyn the bard had hurried into her room earlier looking nervous; she’d probably broke one of Elda’s ancient Nordic plates that hung from the walls, that milk drinking Dunmer would destroy the whole inn one day. There was also another Dunmer sat, shrouded in the corner of the inn, sipping carefully on a mug of warm milk mixed with fresh Goldenglow honey.
Elda began to stroke a small etching on the stool; it was the crude image of a candle that had been cut into every stool in the inn a few years back, Elda had thought it was a good idea at the time but now looking back she regretted allowing that damned Khajiit ‘artist’ work his claws on the stools, Elda looked up as the front door to her inn swung open on its hinges, crashing into the wall and knocking one of Elda’s plates onto the floor.
Seden rushed into the inn, hurrying past a startled inn keeper whose mouth hung ajar at the abrupt entry. Garog was close behind and the two began walking down the corridor of rooms, carefully opening each door a creak just to peer inside; it was the second door Seden opened that he saw the Dunmer bard inside. She was desperately wiping at her floorboards trying to clear away a large pool of crimson blood, Seden beckoned Garog to his side and motioned for her to draw her weapon whilst he slid two flying vipers from beneath his sash, he waited for Garog to finish slowly removing her steel curved sabre from its scabbard, trying to avoid the hissing sound that came when you drew a blade quickly. At a nod from the Orc Seden placed his shoulder against the door and stepped into it, swinging the door open and striding inside, before the bard could react Seden had both blades crossed over one another forming a scissor like tool and pressed to her throat, Garog was at his back, ready to step in and give her life to protect her friend and mentor. The Dunmer went to scream but at the last moment realised that it might not be the wisest decision with two blades at her throat, “Wait… Stop, please I didn’t do it, it wasn’t me.” The bard pleaded, careful not to move her mouth too much in case her throat was nudged forward onto the razor sharp steel.
“I guess all this blood was just a shaving accident; forgive me whilst I let you go.” Seden joked, however his eyes and face showed no signs of humour, he stared at the dark elf at the end of his blade with a look of disgust and scorn for her.
“No you don’t understand, there was another Dunmer, he paid me a heavy coin purse to simply bring that poor elf down onto the docks, I had no idea he was going to murder him.” The bard pleaded.
Seden glared at her, “How do you explain the blood on your floor.”
“It was all over my clothes, he made a point of covering me in the blood, trying to frame me.” She looked up at the fair haired Nord, “I changed before I came back to the inn and brought the bloody clothes with me, I wasn’t thinking straight.”
Seden doubted the story but decided to play along, “So who is this murderer then, this ‘other’ elf.”
“He never told me his name, he called himself ‘The Dusk Wolf’, I know his room at the corner club though, and I can show you!” She begged for him to trust her. Seden thought for a moment, he knew she could try to lead him into a trap but there was something about her that made Seden inclined to believe her story.
“Lead the way, but I’ll have my eye on you, any funny business and Garog here will cut you open.”
Garog eyed Seden sceptically; she didn’t believe the Dunmer’s story and sensed they were walking into a trap, but she respected her captain and would follow his decisions without question. She pressed her sabre against the bard’s spine and nudged her out the door, “Walk.” She commanded, stepping through the door to the Dunmer’s room and into the hall, Garog took two steps then her sabre met resistance as the bard froze in her tracks, “What is…” Garog began, but then she saw the shadowy figure at the end of the corridor. Bow in hand. Drawn. Two arrows notched. Garog didn’t have time to move before she felt a heavy thud against her chest, knocking the wind out of her, as she fell backward she saw the Dunmer bard crash down to the ground next to her, an arrow between her eyes.
. . .
Seden started to follow after Garog and the Bard through the door way when he heard two heavy thuds and saw the two women’s bodies slam to the ground at his feet, Seden stared in horror at the dying orc who’d been at his side since he’d first become the captain of a ship. He flicked the two flying vipers over in his hand so he was holding the blade end then stepped into the corridor, there was a loud thwack and another arrow came spiralling down the hallway aimed straight at Seden’s head. Seden swung both hands upwards faster then was humanly possible, releasing the knives at two different targets, the first had the most accuracy put into it and hit its target straight on, cutting the flying arrow in half mid-flight, the second knife was a rushed shot and missed its mark by half a meter embedding itself into the archers abdominal muscle. Seden flinched momentarily as one half of the arrow carried on into his face, leaving a scratch down his cheek, once he looked back up the archer was gone.
“Captain…” a weak voice croaked from his feet. Seden fell to the side of his companion wrapping his fingers around her hand, “I’m not going to… survive am I?” Garog forced the words out with great difficulty; every syllable racked her body in pain.
Seden wasn’t going to feed his friend false hopes and lie to her, he knew she already could feel the life slipping away from her. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have sent you out first, if I’d taken the bard out instead of you, if I hadn’t dragged you with me.”
“Then… we would b-both be dead.” Garog insisted. Seden knew it was true, Garog wouldn't have been able to stop the third shot and they’d all be dead, but that didn't make it any easier.
“I just… wish I could have d-died a better death, it’s what every Orc dr…eams of. To die by a-an archer is just…” Garog couldn’t manage any more but Seden understood her Orsimer traditions. She moved her mouth feebly; attempting to say something else but she didn’t have the strength, Seden leant close to her putting his ear next to her mouth, “Fare…well…Capt…” these were the last words she could manage before she let out a deep sigh.
She had died.
Seden moved back to an upright position and slowly placed his index and middle finger on each of her eyelids before closing them. “Even in death may you be triumphant.” He whispered, recalling the saying from a clan of mountain dwelling vampires he’d encountered years prior. Then he rose from her side and walked down the corridor, seeing the body of the inn keeper pinned to the counter with an arrow lodged in her throat. On the ground Seden saw a small pool of blood not belonging to her, in the pool was the flying viper that had hit the archer, and from the small dagger a line of blood droplets lead towards the door. He had a trail, now he needed revenge.
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