Battle-Born's Last Battle (Alaric & Dar'savi)

The cover of night shielded Alaric and his guild-sister, Dar'savi, from prying eyes. A child somewhere had prayed to their mother, and the two night-siblings were the Night-Mother's answer...

The cold, Nord winds ruffled his black robes and cloak, but did little else to his vampiric blood as they laid in wait across the river behind the rocks. His icy blue eyes intensified as his Vampire's sight kicked in, allowing him to see the rocks and river laid out before him as if it were daytime. There were just certain things he loved about being a vampire, and this was one of those things.

"Sister," he hissed quietly, "you gave him the note, right? Played your part convincingly?" Earlier that day, Alaric had given his sister an elegant dress and an amulet of Mara to catch the eye or their prey in order to lure him into their trap. He knew of Jon Battle-Born, had seen him when the man was a child and on up through the years in random visits to the city. He had never been able to stay in one place too long, as people tended to ask questions why the seemingly 18 year old never aged nor greyed. The longest he'd remained in his hometown of Whiterun (after being turned) was a mere five years, but that was over a century ago... surely there was no one alive to remember the actually young Alaric Taranis...

"Yes, brother" The Khajiit replied, her natural night vision allowing her to see her surrounding clearly. "This Battle-Born should be out shortly" She finished dipping one of her arrows in poison. Out of any of the other brothers or sisters, Alaric was Dar'savi's favorite partner. She has found that the vampiric elf's magic compliments her love of steel and stealth nicely.

"Good! Good!" he said, chuckling darkly. "This will be a fine kill! Within an hour, Battle-Born will be serving the Dread Father in the Void! The Night-Mother will be pleased!" His ears suddenly picked up a low growling behind them, followed by a howling. "Blast! I thought I had gotten the last of them! There must have been another out prowling!" he said in a low voice. "We've come this close, I shan't let a wolf spoil the glorious death we have in store!"

Alaric stalked off into the wood behind them, carefully scanning his surroundings. He found it soon enough, eating the remnants of his own pack. It made him sick to his stomach to see it. He didn't mind the feeding, he did that oft enough that it didn't really bother him much, hardly anything did anymore. It was the act of the wolf feeding on its brothers and sisters that sickened him so. He could never see doing that to one of his brothers or sisters, at least not unless they asked him for the dark gift. And then it would only be a bite, not true feeding...

As he walked away from the wolf, a misty ice sickle protruded from the wolf's throat. He would no longer bother the unlikely pair of assassins in their mission for their mother. He wiggled his fingers as he sat back down beside his sister. "Dead." he said, "Or as the children are saying these days... 'I put him on ice.'" he giggled a bit as his morbid joke before putting his serious face back on. "Any changes?"

Dar'savi resisted the urge to groan at the joke "No brother, no sign of the Battle-Born. If there were he'll be somewhere between dead and chocking on his own vomit" She replied with deadpan seriousness.

"That's why you're my favorite sister!" he said quietly. "I like your enthusiasm, but do not underestimate the scrawny Nord... I have known of him for many years... He is stronger than he looks. I once saw him take out two grown men and their war-hound before the the barkeep smashed a bowl over his hard head. If he detects us, it will no longer be AS easy to send him to see the dread father..."

He shifted slightly as he spoke, the anticipation of their upcoming kill heating his blood. A flicker of movement caught his eye. "Hark, sister! To the east! There! See? 'Tis our mark, so ready your bow!" he hissed quietly. "I'll stand by with the lightning should you miss. One for the sky, and one for him. It will be the perfect cover-up...." he purred, a small smile appearing on his face.

Dar'savi smiled knockng the still dripping poisoned arrow on to her bow. Pulling the string back she made the adjustments for gravity and wind before firing. The arrow sailed towards the battle-born like the true markswoman she was though at this distance it was up to fate where on his body the arrow would land though if it was non-lethal area her poison would do the deed

The twang of Dar'savi's bow was like beautiful melody to Alaric's ears. It was all he could do to contain his joy at hearing the dull thud as her arrow struck true! He saw the man turn sharply and cry out in pain. By the looks of things, the wodden missile caught him in the arm just above the crook.

"So, sister, shall we attempt the bonus? Shal-" he stopped cold as he saw the man reach into a bag and pull out a bottle and uncork it "Damn him flirting with that alchemist!" A green bolt of light flew from Alaric's hand toward the man before he could raise the flask to his lips. He couldn't take the chance of it being an antidote to Dar'savi's poison. He didn't doubt his sister's poison, but neither did he that of the Whiterun alchemist's skills...

As the young Battle-Born went stiff and fell, Alaric resumed his crouching position. "We shall have to collect him to finish the job! The paralysis stopped the poison as well. The spell will have to wear off unless we kill him physically now. Come, sister!" he urged as he half- ran, half- sneaked to their prey before the guards could respond.

His cloak billowed around him as he proceeded, helping to shield him like a large shadow. It helped that he almost always wore black, and that even his hair was the color of the night. For good measure, he threw a firebolt at a mill on the other side of the river. He didn't really care if it burned, it was dilapidated anyway, and had been abandoned for over a century. The smoke from his target quickly rose into the night sky. They should be fine now. The guards will have assumed that some young nords were getting their nightly kicks by partying at "The Haunted Mill" and things got out of hand...

The Khajiit sneaked ahead, being lighter on her feet. Once she got to the paralyzed body of the so called Battle-born, she swiftly pounced upon him and made a deep slash across the warrior's throat with her dagger killing him instantly.

"Ahhh, sister, ever the gentle kitten..." he chuckled, a smirk spreading on his face as he severed the man's pony-tail. Apparently their client was a spurned lover, a lover who wanted revenge, but a lover all the same. "Looks like we get our bonus this time, sister!" The lock of blonde hair shone in the moonlight before he tucked it into his robes. "'Twas good that he had a thing for Kahjiits, eh Dar'savi?"

Alaric grabbed the ankles of the man and began dragging him toward the river. He had found in earlier missions that it was always a boon to dispose of the evidence... He took a quick draught of the man's blood, his natural resistance to poison neutralizing the foreign agent. He spat violently after he was finished anyway, as he didn't like the taste of Nords. Their blood was too cold, too much like his own.

The body floated down the river a bit before being sucked into the undertow and disappearing from sight. "Another serves the Dread Father in the Void, sister. The Night-Mother will be pleased... Come! Let us collect our payment. Hopefully this client doesn't attempt to go back on their word like the last one did. I'll admit, it was fun 'extracting' it from them, but it is not the same..."

"Yes, brother, listening to you while you 'worked them over' was quite...stimulating" She said with a slight purr in her voice. She was less serious now with the contract all but done. "and like most men this one was head over heeks once I gave hm 'the cute kitty routine."

A dark chuckle split the air, "Oh-ho-ho! I wish I could have seen that. I'll bet he was drooling all over you in that dress. Especially since you just happened to be looking for a mate, and you just happened to choose him. Glorious! Simply glorious. Did you see his face before you carved him? The shock? The terror? Made my heart skip a beat, it did. There's nothing quite like watching a kill like that one."

Alaric heard the guards in the distance and raised his hand to his lips. A low, mournful tone drifted on the wind followed by distant whinnies and the clopping of hooves on the rocks. Two jet black horses stopped next to the pair of assassins and shuffled their feet, the smell of blood still heavy in the air. Alaric had procured them a moon's cycle before and had immediately begun to train them. They came when they heard the whistle and they listened to commands, but they were still a bit skittish around the pungent odor of blood. "Let us fly... and pray to Sithis that none are so foolish as to cross out path!" As he mounted his horse, he looked like a wraith, a servant of the night, a harbinger of death...

"I know brother it's my favorite part." She told him before the sound of the guards approching filled her ears. That look of shock or despair before death is what she lived for. Especially on warriors like this Battle-born who usually have it in there heads that they'll die on some glorious battlefield not carved to death by some Khajiit with a knife.

Once the horses were summoned by Alaric, Dar'savi jumped up onto hers "Yes brother, Sithis be with us." she said to her partner before kicking the spurs and riding of into the night.