Shatter the Shield (Ended)

Alaric's black cloak which billowed around him was purely for show; he didn't need it's warmth as his vampiric blood protected him from the bitter north winds. Not only was it ominous when the wind caught it just right, it was also practical in making it seem the high elf was always cold, and allowing him to seemingly disappear into the shadows. He had decided long ago that he would never be rid of the large hooded cloak, not when it was so helpful to his profession and condition...

He got several angry sounding grunts as he entered the city of Windhelm, these Nords were almost as bad as the Thalmor when it came to race.... Almost... Nothing could ease his hate for the Thalmor, and he didn't care how many of his own people called him a traitor. In his mind, they weren't his people if they supported the Thalmor. In fact, he had just killed a few of the disgusting beasts as they had descended upon a shrine to Talos with the intent of killing the worshippers. They never learned, and he supposed they never would. All you needed was pointy ears and golden skin and the blasted fools would tell you anything you wanted to know. That was how he learned of the attack. They never suspected that the elf had gone ahead and warned the worshippers before assuming the garb of a monk...

He chuckled as he recalled the look on their faces when he turned, catching their spells with a ward and firing lightning bolts at them. He hadn't aimed carefully, but it seemed that luck was with him and one of the bolts had caught one of the traitorous elves in the face, killing him instantly. This fortunate turn had allowed him to pounce unhindered on the other, sinking his fangs into his neck before ripping it out like a wild animal. People deserved a decent death, he knew, but these... these monsters could no longer be called people, and as such, would not be treated like them.

As it was now, he was on a contract. The Black Sacrament had once again been performed, the reason for his being in possibly one of the most racist cities in the entire province. It was a rather unique contract, at least in the regard that two deaths were asked for instead of the usual one. Although he guessed that this one was more of a favor. He still didn't quite understand the girl's logic, but perhaps she didn't have any?

Dar'savi walked with her fellow brother in the black cloak she always wore going into cities. Doing her best to ignore the same racial slurs she as heard all her life casted in her direction. The khajiit are never quite welcome in most of the land with Skyrim being among the worst with Khajiit being forbidden to do business in the holds. She could resist the urge for now but the time someone tells her that she has hair growing out of her ears she'll plunge her daggers into them. Still at least there wern't any imps here.

"So sister, what say you to going to the local inn to try and find information on the whereabouts of this 'Shatter-Shield' girl? If I remember correctly, and I always do, the place is called Candlehearth Hall and we should be getting fairly close to it." He blew some of his bangs that had escaped their leather prison out of his face before continuing. "I don't think we should have any trouble with this one, it seems pretty... well, easy to me. A grieving woman, mourning the loss of her twin sister? Her guard will be so far down that it will almost be a crime to take her out..."

His Vampire's Sight was very useful in the dark fortress-like city, already helping him to avoid two muggers, thought his hearing their drunken mutterings helped as well. "I had this dream yesterday afternoon while I recovered, we were on our way to another contract, but our clothes were different... We had traded in our black and we wore new cloaks of warm reds, yellows, and oranges, but they had a bright green hand on the front. We looked quite ridiculous, but the people were celebrating us... they were shouting 'All hail the Dark Brotherhood! All Hail the assassins of old!' It was very strange. I think I'm starting to get old and crazy..." he chuckled, knowing that he 'got old' over seventy-five years ago...

Dar'savi couldn't help but smile at the dream, a rarity for her on a contract. "Sounds like the wildest dream I ever heard of" The smile was taken away from her as another bigot called her a cat. "Let's hurry our paces bother, I don't think I resist the urge to kill these racists much longer" The Khajiit said gripping her daggers under the cloak as they neared the large building in the center.

Alaric placed a hand on his sister's shoulder, "Calm yourself... they are mindless idiots who know not of what they speak. I would rather have this 'cat' they keep referring to at my back than any man or mer, sister. Now come... we've arrived." Candlehearth Hall stood before them, firelight flickering through the windows and the sound of minstrels floating through the ancient timbers as he ascended the steps...


The iron-bound door swung open surprisingly easily and without a sound, a rarity in this area because of all the snow and moisture. "Wow, Sister... someone who actually cares about the state of their establishment..." He held the door open a few moments more before proceeding to the bar and ordering two rooms for the night and two bottles of mead and plates of steak, with his being a bit on the rare side. He took the food and drink before proceeding up the stairs so they could find a secluded table. "You coming, sister?"

Dar'savi nodded at Alaric's comment before walking into the inn with her brother. Needless to say some heads turned in thier direction as the walked to the bar. High Elves and Khajiit are rare in these parts alone much less traveling together further estranged by them call eachother brother and sister. "Coming, brother" she said following him up and finding a table.

The table he saw was perfect! It was enshrouded by shadows, in a corner, and no one else was too close by. He sat down their supper and pulled out a chair for his sister saying only one word. "Remember". He was of course referring to their agreed upon cover story, one which he thought was absolutely brilliant, Vigilants of Stendarr... It was quite the bit of irony seeing as how he was a vampiric assassin serving Sithis and the Night-Mother, but he had to admit, it was their best cover yet. Not only did it make people not want to cross them, it removed almost all chance of people finding out about his... condition.

Alaric assumed his position of sitting in the corner, able to see the top floor in almost its entirety. He was only blocked by the large central fireplace. "This is a wonderful spot, don't you think?" came his whispered observation before he ever-so-elegantly picked up his cutlery and began carving his steak. He wiped a bit of blood from his chin with a cloth that had been hidden in his robes and took a draught of his mead, "Relax sister, we've already done the official 'business' this is only a favor, a favor we'll be rewarded for, but a favor nonetheless..."

Dar'savi nodded "Yes brother it is. Really fitting" she replied in whisper cutting into her steak. "Yes, but isn't that the best kind of favor" She said taking a bite and with a sip of mead.

"But of course. Though, is there any other we would have agreed to do for a stranger?" He chuckled lightly. He missed their banter, it had been a while since their last assignment with each other as they were kept so busy that they could not afford to do many missions with partners along. He suddenly nodded discreetly toward an man sitting across the way, "Sister, I think you have an admirer. That one has been staring at you with moony eyes since we sat down..." he laughed softly "I wonder how he would react to knowing how many you've sent to Sithis with those daggers?" His gaze turned serious, "Better save him for after though, unless of course he comes over here, although I doubt he will, at least not while I am sitting here. I may look like a youngling, but I still exude an aura of intimidation, don't you think?"

"Out of the kindness of our hearts" She said jokingly, another rare thing for her on a contract, before Alaric pointed the stranger out. She flashed the man a smile before returning her gaze back to Alaric. "Mostly likely in a bad way unless he likes a bit pain with his love" She joked again, perhaps the mead was loosening her up a bit. "I think most Altmer have that kind of look to them, though you vampirism can't help." She said the last part in a hushed tone then took another sip of mead
"Us Khajiit on the other hand have a cute, exotic look. I guess that's why for all the bigotry that surrounds us, it's so easy for me to get the even toughest warriors to strip off their armor." Dar'savi then lightly stabbed into her steak and winked at Alaric before cutting it normally and eating the piece

"This is true." he said, referring to the looks of their races. "And yes... I noticed that. I believe the last one was a Nord, no?" he chuckled. "I tend to avoid the relationships though... not many girls want much to do with me after they find out my secret, so there is no use in getting my hopes up. Babette and I tried something not long after I joined, but there was no real spark, so we decided to just stay as friends..." He downed the rest of his mead, the cool liquid flowing down his throat and calming him.

Alaric tipped his plate to his lips, drinking in the blood that had accumulated. It didn't taste as good as it did fresh, but it would help him curb his hunger anyway. He once again dabbed his face with the cloth before finishing his meal. He was a fast eater, he had to be with his condition. One never knew when someone was going to come bursting in and see you with a face covered in blood. He took the cloth and wiped out the plate, just in case someone had seen him and he clutched it tightly, fiery energy channeling there and slowly destroying the evidence...

[[OOC: By the way, anyone is welcome to join this thread. Just pop in when you see a spot. Feel free to say you are the man eyeing Dar'savi if you want .]]

Dar'savi drank down the rest of her mead "Well I think you might have luck with another member." She said smiling though already buzzed.

Alaric was about to respond to Dar'savi's drunken hint when he heard a voice from the other side of the room. "*hic* Get outta 'ere y-you Thaaalmor scum! *hic*" A man, a Nordic man was standing not too far away and pointing at their table. Alaric's hands balled into fists in the folds of his robes. He was just going to ignore him. 'He is just a stupid drunk, Alaric, pay him no mind...'

"Hey! *hic* Ima talkin' to you! I said get out! *hic* We don't want your kind here. You ain't welcome, you hear?!?"

Alaric simply glared at the table, tracing a design with his eyes. He wasn't going to say anything, do anything, or even look at the man. They couldn't blow their cover, they couldn't mess up this mission.

"Take this, you disgusting elf! *hic*"

Alaric heard the throw before he saw the object. The man had thrown a bottle of wine, but in his drunkenness, he had missed Alaric and was going to hit Dar'savi! Alaric's hand was glowing a blueish green almost immediately, a wall of pure magic shielding his sister. The heavy glass shattered against the barrier and the purple liquid within splashed onto the floor. Now he had gone too far.

The chair was on the ground and Alaric's fists were clutching the man's collar before he even knew what he was doing. "How DARE you! How dare you compare me to those filthy beasts! How dare you attack my companion and I! How dare you, with your vastly inferior mind, just assume that all elves support those despicable monsters! I HATE the Thalmor! You see this strap? You see those notches? Each one of them represents a blasted Thalmor who fell at my hands!"

His hands were smoldering now, the cloth of the drunk's shirt beginning to burn. Alaric raised his leg and with all of his might, kicked forward, knocking the drunk to the ground. "You... you're just as bad as they are. You just can't see it."

Dar'savi was quickly snapped from her drunken haze with the sound of the bottle breaking against the barrier. She got up and approached the drunk. "And the next time you throw a bottle at me or my companion I'll claw you down to bones" She told the man displaying said claws to make a point

((Oh god I made a pun ))

Aventus sat by himself in a corner of the bar and sipped at his mug of water as he watched people enter and leave. It wasn’t particularly interesting, but he had to do something to pass the time until the blacksmith was done with his gear. 'I hope they don't take too long with my robes. I got mistaken for a vagabond the last time I went without them for a few hours.'
He was taking another sip from his mug when two more people walked in. ‘Oh-ho, what have we here? A High Elf and a Khajiit in Windhelm?’
Aventus sat his cup down and watched the two cross the room and take up seats in another corner of the room. He normally wouldn’t have been so blatant in his observation, but he did have to admit that the Khajiit was a looker.
He muttered a few words to himself before finally turning his eyes away, a small smile creeping onto his face. ‘I wonder how long they’re in town for.’

The man started to rise, a growl in his throat, but the electricity crackling wildly in Alaric's hands seemed to get the message across and he slumped back to the floor. "Disgusting..." Alaric spat as he turned. He usually liked the other races, but Nords were getting harder and harder to tolerate. He understood their hate for the Thalmor, more than they knew, but there was no reason for them to think that every single Altmer was an agent! He wanted nothing more than to abandon their contract right now and find some Thalmor scum to torture. Over one-hundred and twenty-two years later and they were still making his life miserable! He would see them wiped from Nirn if it was the last thing he ever did!

As he returned to the table, he chanced a look at the man who had been watching his sister and he noticed that he was an Imperial. A little old for Dar'savi though... He decided that he'd have to watch him closely. Alaric couldn't help but feel like he should protect her from the world, she was so young, and he didn't want her to be hurt. He knew she was capable of protecting herself physically.... but what about emotionally?

After retracting her claws Dar'savi returned to her seat to finish her steak. On the way she stole a glance at her admirers table, He was too old for her tastes and the fact that he was an imp made it a definite no. Though she'll sleep with anyone if it'll make it easier for to send them to Sifis before the act.

Aventus glanced around the room once more before downing the rest of his drink and standing up. He slowly meandered over to the two, doing his best impression of a person riding on a wave of liquid courage. He flashed an awkward smile when he was close enough for conversation. "I couldn't help but notice that you two handled that drunk pretty well. Where’d you learn to fight like that?” He had addressed both of them, but his eyes kept darting to the Khajiit.

Dar'savi noticed where the imp's gaze was darting to and glared at him. "Growing up on the streets teaches you a few things"

((Dar'savi hates imperials as a group of them got her family and almost her executed when she was young.))

Aventus frowned slightly, seemingly not noticing the glare. "I'm sorry to hear that you grew up on the streets. No one should go through that."
He sluggishly glanced over at the Altmer. "What about you?"

(Of which Aventus is blissfully unaware. Just means more RP fun!)

Alaric eyed the Imperial before answering him, hoping that he wouldn't ask too many questions. "You learn to handle yourself after bandits raid your home and butcher your mother and sisters... not that handling a drunk is anything boast about. Tracking down all of the bandits and painfully exacting your revenge however... is another story altogether..." He was wary, he didn't know why, but the Imperial set him on alert. He assumed it was just because they were on a contract and they had just caused quite a bit of a scene, but only Sithis knew for sure...

His jaw clenched tightly for a few seconds before his face settled into a deep scowl. "Fucking bandits. Those bastards deserved what they got."
He wobbled a bit on his feet and shook his head. "Man, I'm really sorry for both of you. I hope your lives have gotten better from there."
Aventus stared at the wall for a few seconds before seemingly nodding to himself and turning to go. "After hearing those stories I need another drink. Or four."
He worked his way over to the bar and ordered another drink before retaking his place at his table.

Alaric nodded politely and bid him goodnight before watching him stumble over to the counter for more alcohol. From the looks of him though, he didn't seem to need it.

Once it was just the two of them again, Alaric stood. "I think I shall retire for the night as I've had enough excitement for today. I shall see you soon, sister." Retire was their safe word for the trip, it meant he wanted her to meet him in about half an hour. He'd go to his room, but later they'd climb out of the window and go about their true business and reason for being in Windhelm... "Goodnight, Savi." he fake yawned, using his pet name for her. "See you in the morning."

"Very well brother, I'll be coming up in a little while" she said smilng.

"I hope the wind dies down before tonight. Hard to rest when you've got to sleep outside..." Silda, a lowly beggar from Windhelm mumbled as young Ian approached her.

"Spare a coin for a poor old woman? A few septims for my supper is all I ask..."
The harsh wind blew, flapping Silda's ragged robes against her chest. It was a miserable sight. A freezing old woman in dingy dish water-stained clothes. She was barefoot and the soles of her feet had blisters. She crouched down by the fire outside Candlehearth hall, absorbing whatever fragile sensation of warmth it could bring her.

"Here, friend, take this." Ian smiled as he pulled out and unwrapped some salmon steak he was saving for dinner tonight." And here, please, take this coin and buy yourself some shoes and a stay at the inn for the night.

He parted from the pouch of coin reluctantly. He couldn't afford to be making such genorous charity. To be honest, he was quite impoverished himself, but out of the kindness of his heart was he happy to give her his last.

"Oh thank you! Divines bless your kind heart!" Her smile gleamed through decayed teeth and stale breath.

"No problem at all. I'm glad to help. Rest easy tonight knowing that Stendarr's mercy is with you." Ian bowed as a token of respect for someone who lived such a weary life.

Out of the corner of his eye, he captured the sight of two nords arguing with a Dark Elf. One was dressed in a tunic. The other was but a meager beggar.

"You come here where you're not wanted, you eat our food, you pollute our city with your stink, and you refuse to help the Stormcloaks!" Raliff, the one in the tunic, yelled in disgust as he spit at the ground where the female dunmer stood.

[i]Stormcloaks? Are these the ones that drove my people out of their homes. Such cruelty...how could they be so arrogant? Surely not all Nords are like this. Master Redaira is part Nord and she's not as cold-hearted as these people. [\i]

"But we haven't taken a side because it's not our fight!" Savaris, the upset Dunmer, responded clearly disturbed by the Nords rascist remarks.

"Hey, maybe these gray skins don't help in the war because their Imperial spies!" Argrenar, the balding bum snarled. He was clearly bent on humoring Raliff's racism.

"Imperial spies? You can't be serious!" The dunmer rolled her eyes.

"Maybe we'll pay you a visit tonight little spy. We got ways of finding out what you really are!" Raliff scowled as he walked off with the beggar chuckling.

The Dunmer sighed deeply as she spotted Ian staring at her. A new face to the town of Windhelm. Another face she may come to hate. To her it was only a matter of time.

"Do you hate the dark elves? Have you come to bully us and tell us to leave?" She frowned annoyed by her mistreatment by mankind.

Ian offered a consoling hand to her shoulder. "Hate is a strong word. But it bred of fear and anger which makes it a weak emotion. You don't deserve half the shit life gives you. I'm not like those two. I don't hate your people." Ian sincerely spoke as he gazed into her eyes.

"You've come to the wrong city then. Windhelm's a haven of prejudice and narrow thinking, unworthy of one such as you." She said with a much softer tone in her voice.

"Every day may not be good...but there is something good in every day." Ian smiled gently as he released his hands from her shoulder.

"...Thank you for your kindness. It's good seeing people like you stop by to visit. It helps remind me that their is hope for a better life outside these walls." She smiled harmonously with him as she pondered his words.

Ian nodded, a warm fuzzy feeling of fullfilment buzzing inside of him, he took great joy in brightening other peoples' day. He noticed Master Aventus enter the Candlehearth Hall and decided to join him. As he creeked open the door, he was approached by a man.

It was the rascist beggar.

"Hey you're a friend to the beggars right? I saw you help Silda. Care to part with a few coin for an old war veteran? I sure could use some ale, friend." he smiled, cupping his hands, certain that Ian would donate to his alcoholic cause.

Ian glared dissapointingly, pausing for a moment to speak to the poor soul, before entering the inn and shutting the door behind him.

"Stendarr shows no mercy to the merciless...and neither do I."