Rikka Northwing and the Sword Dancer: Prologue

• Posted by MarkusMasterThief July 13, 2014 - 879 views

  

  The familiar aroma of blood thrilled Rikka's senses as she drove her blade through Nazeem's throat. The sensation of murder coursed vigorously through her veins, and the feeling of her victim's warm blood splashing against her face summoned a distinct sense of nostalgia. As Nazeem's body twitched from the shock of his passing, Rikka sat perched upon the table in front of him and observed his demise with a curious eye. What final thoughts sped through this man's head, she wondered? Did he think of his wife? Or did he favor his money? More than likely the money; that was the way these rich types always worked. As Nazeem's body finally came to rest, Rikka reached out to reclaim the sword.... when the door behind her began to creep open. Instantly Rikka doused the nearest candles in water, and hid in the surrounding darkness. She'd retrieve the sword later, once the guards were gone and her target's wife was asleep... if she would even get any sleep tonight. Besides, she had overheard the final conversation Nazeem had held with her... and something far more important was brought to her attention.

  "Sister..."

  It filled Rikka's heart with joy that her sister was alive and well. Considering Erika's penchant for adventure and life-threatening situations, Rikka shook her head with a grin on her face and reflected on how much she had missed her younger sibling... but she could not reunite with her sister. Not now.

  "She would kill me..." She thought to herself, "She would see what I have become."

  Not that Rikka would ever give up her occupation; though the money she earned from her murders sustained her well enough, the real pleasure of her job was the thrill of the hunt. The satisfaction of feeling her blade cutting through the tender flesh and solid bone of her targets. Every kill imbued Rikka with a feeling of power; often times she felt she had mastered the art of murder to chilling perfection. Nobody would see her coming, not a soul witnessed the act, and there was not a shred of evidence to link her to the crime. In those moments, when the final throes of her enemies' lives pulsed through her blade... in those moments Rikka became fearless. This was what she had chosen to live for, as murder, ironically enough, made her feel truly alive.

  But Erika would never understand. She was always the moral upstart between the two; always so serious about even the smallest crimes, Rikka thought. No matter her admiration for Erika's determination, or the familial bond she felt with her younger sister, she knew full well that their worlds were far too distant from one another to ever co-exist. A rare sense of shame washed over Rikka's heart as she reflected upon the final words Erika ever said to her, upon realizing Rikka's bloodthirsty nature...

  I can't look after you anymore. We're grown women now, Rikka... and it's time for us to part ways and live our own lives. But I swear to you... if you keep doing these... things... if we meet again, and you haven't stopped killing innocent people, then I'll know my hope was wasted and I won't hesitate to kill you!

  Rikka reflected once more upon her sister's seething words, and even after reclaiming her blade she found herself nonetheless disoriented. 'Fool', she thought to herself, 'The past is done. Do not dwell upon it any longer'. As Rikka stood above the streets of Whiterun, she decided that a good bit of mead would do the trick... but first there was the matter of the payment she would receive for her contract. It was a strange one, too... she was not contacted directly, but rather via a mysterious letter delivered by a timid courier. It instructed Rikka to slay Nazeem for an undisclosed reason -- not at all unusual in this occupation, of course -- and that, upon finishing the task, she was to arrive in the neighboring city of Solitude to collect her payment. This was the strange part; first of all, why so far away? Was this a grudge resolution? And furthermore, the letter came with no return address or anything to identify its writer... merely an ominous symbol at the bottom...

  Naturally Rikka was wary of her client. She knew better than most what evils prowled the land of Skyrim... if there was anything she'd learned from the Dark Brotherhood, and especially its dearly departed leader Astrid, it was that nobody in this line of work could be trusted. Nobody. But all the same, this client was now indebted to her... and come what may, she'd get paid. And so, after slipping one of Nazeem's spare sets of fine clothes over her assassin garb, she hired a coachman and set off to Solitude, anticipating the impending meeting with her mysterious client...

  The carriage ride took roughly a day, and by the time she arrived to the city gates it had become dark. A mighty storm had befallen the Hold, and the streets were running with rainwater. The local children fled to the safety of their homes, and the merchants packed up their wares and headed indoors... but Rikka simply stood in the middle of the marketplace, looking up at the sky with fascination in her pale white eyes. The chill of the rain falling upon her face gave a bizarrely comfortable sensation, and the sound of the storm's mighty thunder thrilled her. It had been a long time since she had seen storms as anything but cover for murder and escape. Why did she feel this unique sense of serenity in the rain? What about it had entranced her so? Walking through the now-empty city streets, it seemed that the sound of the rainwater falling from the sky played a melancholy tune fit for the grim nature of Rikka's soul... perhaps it was this fact that made her feel so at home.

  But this comfort was soon interrupted, by a most familiar sound: a scream, echoing from one of the larger mansions. Rikka's eyes instantly darted toward the sound, and fell upon a curious sight: a quick and agile shape was scaling its way down the wall of the estate, before nimbly dropping to a rooftop below it. The shape then met Rikka's fascinated gaze, and gestured toward the Blue Palace just ahead. Rikka's blood ran cold for a moment -- whoever this shape was, it recognized her as an assassin. But fear was soon replaced by curiosity, and she could not simply let this figure run off. With agility that even a khajiit would envy, Rikka slipped out of her fine clothes and pursued her acquaintance with blinding speed. The two of them, little more than silhouettes jumping about in the evening rain, leaped and ran across the rooftops of Solitude as if racing to the Blue Palace. Rikka was fascinated by this stranger; their abilities seemed evenly matched -- a rare thing to see, even in Skyrim's seedy underworld.

  Finally the two reached the Blue Palace roof simultaneously, and spun around to face one another. Even as they stood to attention, it was difficult for Rikka to determine much about this stranger, however some factors were certain; first off, this was most certainly a Redguard woman. She seemed to be dressed in the native attire of her homeland, colored specially to blend in with the night. At her sides were dual curved swords, much like what the Dark Brotherhood contractor Nazir owned. And to top it off, her face was obscured by a mask, thus completing the deadly ensemble. The two agile assassins stared each other down, each calculating what the other was planning to do. The Redguard paced around Rikka, as if studying her potential abilities. Likewise, Rikka kept a close eye on the stranger and silently analyzed what she was likely to do in a moment's notice. She looked her company in the eyes... it was a look she knew intimately. It was the anticipation of challenge. Finally the newcomer confirmed Rikka's suspicions, and drew out her twin blades. Rikka, in turn, drew out her katana and steel dagger, and prepared for battle. Though it was unclear what the woman hoped to gain from the coming fight, Rikka was not one to let her guard down. Lightning flashed, thunder boomed... and in an instant, the two shadowy killers charged.