Post by nonfiction on May 28, 2011 1:51:41 GMT -5
Wrote this kinda quickly but hey, whatever check it out.
An old wooden door creaked open, the frosty coat of the wood chilling my finger right through the leather of my gloves. It was cold outside. Colder than usual. Nights in Windhelm were ferocious; an icy force to be reckoned with. And those who didn’t respect the cold of night would suffer its wrath. And that was more than enough to draw me out of my cave in the mountain and down into the city, seeking warmth, shelter, food… and maybe some mead and women. The thought brought a smile to my face.
I shook my head clear and shut the door behind me, warm at last. I was in a small inn, just inside the walls of Windhelm. This place was frequented by travelers and those who desired a bed without the noise of being in the deep city. No one would mind one more strange face here. Or so I thought.
But when I turned around, every face in the creaky old lodge was staring at me, mugging me. It made a chill run across my skin. It made the hair on my neck stand on end. Not in fear, but in excitement. Perhaps here, I could find something better than cheap mead and loose women. Perhaps here, I could find a good fight.
I felt the smile on my face widen as all the patrons of the pub turned back to their own business, and I in turn began examining my new surroundings. The wooden inn was small, dirty, and filled with the stench of alcohol and far too much body heat. I eyed the crowd that had stared me down earlier. Windhelm was a big city. Packed to the brim with all sorts. Mer, beast-kin, Orc and men alike. And the patrons of the pub reflected that nicely. With a sigh I made my way through the crowd, catching one too many shoulders and elbows to be called coincidence, and found a small table in the corner. After shrugging off the bearskin coat on my shoulders, setting my blade beside me, and taking a seat with by back to the wall, a woman approached me, a forced smile played across her face.
“What to you want, traveler?”
I looked at her a moment. She was young, but her face was pressed with lines, the sign of a hard life. She was rude, probably a habit she developed to deal with a tavern full of drunken idiots. I smiled through her rudeness before pointing at a jug of mead in the hand of some Orc not too far away. The pubs matron nodded curtly and shuffled away before returning with a jug of my own.
“Ten septims,” the bar maid spat at me, slamming the mug down on the table.
The price was ridiculous, but I reached inside my leather curiass for my coin pouch just the same. She snatched the gold out of my hand and left without a word.
I sipped the bitter brew and began watching the crowd again as the alcohol warmed my stomach. A few Argonians tucked in the corner across from me, half hidden in shadow. An Orc and a Redguard near the middle of the pub, talking in slurred speech about something I couldn’t quite make out. A handful of Dunmer, perhaps even more drunk than the Orc sat at a booth across the way. They were loud, and by the looks of it, pretty rowdy. They were talking boastfully and when their words met my ear, their conversation struck my interest.
“Have you heard? Elves have been going missing in Windhelm. They say on cold nights a phantom roams the streets, snatching up mer.”
“These filthy Nords are probably making up rumors to cover their own stupidity. Phantom? More like a bunch of hammered idiots wandering off into the wilderness. I swear, the Nords get stupider every time I come to this piece of shit country.”
“You two are wrong. People aren’t going missing, they’re being murdered. Phenis Aludin told me they’ve found several bodies. And his brother is in the guard!”
“Rumors. That’s all it is. Rumors.”
The smile on my face melted away. Rumors huh? They had no idea. Disgusting dark elves. They have no place in this land. How dare they speak of my people so casually with such disrespect? My glare must have caught their attention, because one of them stopped talking mid sentence and turned his head in my direction.
That’s right, I’m looking at you, you repulsive blue skinned abomination.
The elf nudged his companion and tilted his head over in my direction. And suddenly, all five of them were staring at me, a look of pure disdain on their faces. I stood up and downed the last of my brew, the sudden rush of bitterness making my head spin for a moment. Across from me, they too stood. But instead of walking over to them and crushing their disgusting faces into the back of their skulls, I pulled the bearskin back over my shoulders, grabbed my sword and made my way outside. Besides, there’d be plenty of opportunity for face smashing soon enough.
Much to my pleasure, I heard the wooden door of the pub creak open behind me after I had exited. I didn’t bother turning my head over my shoulders to look. I knew it was them. I could feel it in my blood. So I continued on my way, following the twists and turns of the streets deeper into the city, leaning my face down to fight the freezing wind beating against me. Every once in a while my ears would catch the shuffle of feet over the howl of wind. They were not too far behind me. And once again, the smile swam onto my face.
I turned down a small alley, dark and secluded, tucked nicely between two tall buildings. My feet gave pause on the cobblestone and I turned to rest my back against the stone wall of the alley.
Before long, five drunken Dunmer appeared at the throat of the alley. They saw me instantly. I was by no means trying to hide myself, after all. And they made their way over to me, their stride confident, their faces showing that loathsome self-superior smirk all the damn elves had. Just like that, they had encircled me. A lesser man may have felt trapped, sandwiched between a stone wall and five elves with hate in their eyes. But it only served to widen my smile. And I could tell, my grin pissed them off.
“What are you smiling about you filthy Nord? You have a death wish.” One of the Dunmer spoke.
I remained silent. Patient. Waiting.
Another stepped forward, “What’s the matter? Are all Nords too stupid to speak or is it just you?”
“I don’t like the look on his face,” the dark elf raised a hand and a small fire ball burst into life in his palm, “How about I singe it off so the world has one less ugly Nord to look at.”
That was my queue. Under my breath, I muttered a few words; a spell. My body was absorbed in shadow and I reveled in the look of utter shock that plagued the Mers’ faces as I vanished before their eyes. No one expects a Nord to be skilled at illusionary magic. Least of all a bunch of foul elves.
And that is exactly why I was so good at killing them.
In an instant I had maneuvered behind one of them, reaching my hands around his forehead and chin and giving it a mighty twist. A satisfying crunch of bone sounded out through the alley as the elf’s neck broke.
As the now lifeless body fell limply to the ground, my smile widened at the panicked expression on the faces of the others. I had to wonder, as I sunk my blade into the stomach of another unsuspecting elf, if they were now realizing that the phantom they had dismissed as rumors earlier was none other than me.
One by one I dispatched them. They were easy prey. Weak and frail, their bones were like twigs in my hands. When the last of the filthy creatures fell to the ground I dispelled my shadowy cloak and took a moment to admire my work.
Over the years, I had killed innumerable elves. But the five bodies lying broken on the ground before me was a true work of art. I leaned down and grabbed a tuft of one of the elf’s hair, using it to wipe the blood off my blade. No point in ruining fine steel with the stench of elf blood. After sheathing my weapon, I turned back the way I came, not a second thought or a backwards glance at the animals I had just slaughtered. I began back towards the inn on the edge of town. After all, it was still a cold night, and I still needed a bed to sleep in.
The streets were deserted as always, and I enjoyed the silence as I walked alone. But something was bothering me. There was a nagging feeling in the back of my mind. I cast a quick glance over my shoulder. No one was following me. Perhaps I was being paranoid? I turned back around and set on my way again. But suddenly there was a cloaked figure standing before me. My hand shot to my blade in reflex, but the girl raised her hands, signaling for peace. My fingers steadied on the hilt of my sword, ready to cut her down at the slightest sign of a threat. But strangely enough, she was smiling warmly at me, fondly, like I was some sort of long lost brother.
“Greetings, friend. It’s high time we met face to face.”
I said nothing as I eyed the suspicious girl clad entirely in black. She was young, couldn’t have been out of her teenage years yet. But her eyes were sharp, dangerous, and yet somehow, strangely calming.
“A man of little words, I suppose? That’s good. Still waters run deepest of all. But no matter, I come here to extend to you an invitation.”
An invitation? Though I would never say it, this girl had peaked my interest.
“You see, I’ve been watching you for some time, Phantom of Windhelm.” The girl leaned to one side and looked past me to see the bodies I had left in my wake, “Truly you have mastered the art of the kill. I want you to join our brotherhood. Someone such as yourself could rise to true greatness with us.”
She looked at me silently, seemingly waiting for my reply. When I gave her none she simply shrugged and gave me a smile.
“Follow me, and I will set you on a path walking hand in hand with our great dread father.”
Just as simple as that she turned her back to me, completely unafraid that I would attack while she was vulnerable, and set back off on her way. I watched her walk for a moment. Her steps were slow, measured and sure. And the further away she got from me, the more my feet urged me to follow.
And so, I did.
The Phantom of Windhelm
An old wooden door creaked open, the frosty coat of the wood chilling my finger right through the leather of my gloves. It was cold outside. Colder than usual. Nights in Windhelm were ferocious; an icy force to be reckoned with. And those who didn’t respect the cold of night would suffer its wrath. And that was more than enough to draw me out of my cave in the mountain and down into the city, seeking warmth, shelter, food… and maybe some mead and women. The thought brought a smile to my face.
I shook my head clear and shut the door behind me, warm at last. I was in a small inn, just inside the walls of Windhelm. This place was frequented by travelers and those who desired a bed without the noise of being in the deep city. No one would mind one more strange face here. Or so I thought.
But when I turned around, every face in the creaky old lodge was staring at me, mugging me. It made a chill run across my skin. It made the hair on my neck stand on end. Not in fear, but in excitement. Perhaps here, I could find something better than cheap mead and loose women. Perhaps here, I could find a good fight.
I felt the smile on my face widen as all the patrons of the pub turned back to their own business, and I in turn began examining my new surroundings. The wooden inn was small, dirty, and filled with the stench of alcohol and far too much body heat. I eyed the crowd that had stared me down earlier. Windhelm was a big city. Packed to the brim with all sorts. Mer, beast-kin, Orc and men alike. And the patrons of the pub reflected that nicely. With a sigh I made my way through the crowd, catching one too many shoulders and elbows to be called coincidence, and found a small table in the corner. After shrugging off the bearskin coat on my shoulders, setting my blade beside me, and taking a seat with by back to the wall, a woman approached me, a forced smile played across her face.
“What to you want, traveler?”
I looked at her a moment. She was young, but her face was pressed with lines, the sign of a hard life. She was rude, probably a habit she developed to deal with a tavern full of drunken idiots. I smiled through her rudeness before pointing at a jug of mead in the hand of some Orc not too far away. The pubs matron nodded curtly and shuffled away before returning with a jug of my own.
“Ten septims,” the bar maid spat at me, slamming the mug down on the table.
The price was ridiculous, but I reached inside my leather curiass for my coin pouch just the same. She snatched the gold out of my hand and left without a word.
I sipped the bitter brew and began watching the crowd again as the alcohol warmed my stomach. A few Argonians tucked in the corner across from me, half hidden in shadow. An Orc and a Redguard near the middle of the pub, talking in slurred speech about something I couldn’t quite make out. A handful of Dunmer, perhaps even more drunk than the Orc sat at a booth across the way. They were loud, and by the looks of it, pretty rowdy. They were talking boastfully and when their words met my ear, their conversation struck my interest.
“Have you heard? Elves have been going missing in Windhelm. They say on cold nights a phantom roams the streets, snatching up mer.”
“These filthy Nords are probably making up rumors to cover their own stupidity. Phantom? More like a bunch of hammered idiots wandering off into the wilderness. I swear, the Nords get stupider every time I come to this piece of shit country.”
“You two are wrong. People aren’t going missing, they’re being murdered. Phenis Aludin told me they’ve found several bodies. And his brother is in the guard!”
“Rumors. That’s all it is. Rumors.”
The smile on my face melted away. Rumors huh? They had no idea. Disgusting dark elves. They have no place in this land. How dare they speak of my people so casually with such disrespect? My glare must have caught their attention, because one of them stopped talking mid sentence and turned his head in my direction.
That’s right, I’m looking at you, you repulsive blue skinned abomination.
The elf nudged his companion and tilted his head over in my direction. And suddenly, all five of them were staring at me, a look of pure disdain on their faces. I stood up and downed the last of my brew, the sudden rush of bitterness making my head spin for a moment. Across from me, they too stood. But instead of walking over to them and crushing their disgusting faces into the back of their skulls, I pulled the bearskin back over my shoulders, grabbed my sword and made my way outside. Besides, there’d be plenty of opportunity for face smashing soon enough.
Much to my pleasure, I heard the wooden door of the pub creak open behind me after I had exited. I didn’t bother turning my head over my shoulders to look. I knew it was them. I could feel it in my blood. So I continued on my way, following the twists and turns of the streets deeper into the city, leaning my face down to fight the freezing wind beating against me. Every once in a while my ears would catch the shuffle of feet over the howl of wind. They were not too far behind me. And once again, the smile swam onto my face.
I turned down a small alley, dark and secluded, tucked nicely between two tall buildings. My feet gave pause on the cobblestone and I turned to rest my back against the stone wall of the alley.
Before long, five drunken Dunmer appeared at the throat of the alley. They saw me instantly. I was by no means trying to hide myself, after all. And they made their way over to me, their stride confident, their faces showing that loathsome self-superior smirk all the damn elves had. Just like that, they had encircled me. A lesser man may have felt trapped, sandwiched between a stone wall and five elves with hate in their eyes. But it only served to widen my smile. And I could tell, my grin pissed them off.
“What are you smiling about you filthy Nord? You have a death wish.” One of the Dunmer spoke.
I remained silent. Patient. Waiting.
Another stepped forward, “What’s the matter? Are all Nords too stupid to speak or is it just you?”
“I don’t like the look on his face,” the dark elf raised a hand and a small fire ball burst into life in his palm, “How about I singe it off so the world has one less ugly Nord to look at.”
That was my queue. Under my breath, I muttered a few words; a spell. My body was absorbed in shadow and I reveled in the look of utter shock that plagued the Mers’ faces as I vanished before their eyes. No one expects a Nord to be skilled at illusionary magic. Least of all a bunch of foul elves.
And that is exactly why I was so good at killing them.
In an instant I had maneuvered behind one of them, reaching my hands around his forehead and chin and giving it a mighty twist. A satisfying crunch of bone sounded out through the alley as the elf’s neck broke.
As the now lifeless body fell limply to the ground, my smile widened at the panicked expression on the faces of the others. I had to wonder, as I sunk my blade into the stomach of another unsuspecting elf, if they were now realizing that the phantom they had dismissed as rumors earlier was none other than me.
One by one I dispatched them. They were easy prey. Weak and frail, their bones were like twigs in my hands. When the last of the filthy creatures fell to the ground I dispelled my shadowy cloak and took a moment to admire my work.
Over the years, I had killed innumerable elves. But the five bodies lying broken on the ground before me was a true work of art. I leaned down and grabbed a tuft of one of the elf’s hair, using it to wipe the blood off my blade. No point in ruining fine steel with the stench of elf blood. After sheathing my weapon, I turned back the way I came, not a second thought or a backwards glance at the animals I had just slaughtered. I began back towards the inn on the edge of town. After all, it was still a cold night, and I still needed a bed to sleep in.
The streets were deserted as always, and I enjoyed the silence as I walked alone. But something was bothering me. There was a nagging feeling in the back of my mind. I cast a quick glance over my shoulder. No one was following me. Perhaps I was being paranoid? I turned back around and set on my way again. But suddenly there was a cloaked figure standing before me. My hand shot to my blade in reflex, but the girl raised her hands, signaling for peace. My fingers steadied on the hilt of my sword, ready to cut her down at the slightest sign of a threat. But strangely enough, she was smiling warmly at me, fondly, like I was some sort of long lost brother.
“Greetings, friend. It’s high time we met face to face.”
I said nothing as I eyed the suspicious girl clad entirely in black. She was young, couldn’t have been out of her teenage years yet. But her eyes were sharp, dangerous, and yet somehow, strangely calming.
“A man of little words, I suppose? That’s good. Still waters run deepest of all. But no matter, I come here to extend to you an invitation.”
An invitation? Though I would never say it, this girl had peaked my interest.
“You see, I’ve been watching you for some time, Phantom of Windhelm.” The girl leaned to one side and looked past me to see the bodies I had left in my wake, “Truly you have mastered the art of the kill. I want you to join our brotherhood. Someone such as yourself could rise to true greatness with us.”
She looked at me silently, seemingly waiting for my reply. When I gave her none she simply shrugged and gave me a smile.
“Follow me, and I will set you on a path walking hand in hand with our great dread father.”
Just as simple as that she turned her back to me, completely unafraid that I would attack while she was vulnerable, and set back off on her way. I watched her walk for a moment. Her steps were slow, measured and sure. And the further away she got from me, the more my feet urged me to follow.
And so, I did.
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