To Kill A King [Closed RP]

- Fredas, 21st of Last Seed, 4E 201 -

Slowly does she spin, dancing pure and slow upon the brittle ice, within the falling snow. So much peace. She seems alone, yet the souls of hundreds call her home and the ice she hears beginning to crack is merely sheets of broken glass. The snow that falls so crisp and white will soon be the ashen remains of another night. As she dances through life and time soon to the melody of blood's lullaby....

The celebration of the end of the civil war brought about the season of peace in Skyrim, and was etched in the history of Shor's hall as the Stormcloaks laid waste to the Imperial Legion and Jarl Elisif stepped down from her right as the High Queen. The doors leading to the Shrine of Talos sprung open as Nords flooded to the halls to give great praise to the mighty Talos for his blessings in battle.

Mothers wept.
Daughters danced.
Men rejoiced with triumphant warcries and sang over flagons of chilled mead.

Today was an evening of prosperity for the Nords and they relished in the well earned freedom to worship their coveted god, showing their complete disdain for the rule of the powerful Aldmeri Dominion. They had managed to gather enough resources and terrain to be considered a potential threat. Disobedience would not be tolerated. Even if it played into the favor of the Thalmor. The Dominion knew all too well that Ulfric's war against the Legion would leave the Empire broken. Their strength now broken, it was time to shatter Skyrim into the great divide...


The intricate web of sinister delight has begun to weave. The infernal wheel of the devious has been set into motion. The violent moon blooms a bright red hue as the honey-glowed sun vaporizes in the horizon. The Aldemeri Dominion has bidden its time long enough. Now was the opportune moment to strike out and deal a vital blow. When the guards were too busy getting drunk and the civilians were too concerned with the festivities to notice, a pair of Thalmor agents slipped in, unnoticed.

He rubbed the black soul gem, glancing up at the dark, clouded silhouette of what he thought might be Raldbthar, the mountain range he'd stumbled into on his way to Windhelm, almost getting himself killed by an encampment of Stormcloaks.

A mischievious grin smeared across his face as he rubbed the coveted black soul gem across his face, inhaling the scent of its power. He felt a slight tingling sensation in his tummy that made him giddy with joy as malevolent thoughts pierced the veil of his mind...

Malfius gave the roadsign sign a light shove, crossing his arms and leaning on one wooden banister. He watched the hanging slab of wood rock to and fro in the blustering wind; the endless frigid ice that assailed Windhelm without rest. Skyrim was so much colder than Summerset Isle, he still wasn't used to it...

He didn't have her warmth, either. That made things even harder than they had to be, and made his heart swell with more hate than it had to be. A foreign land could use a foreign face or two, if nothing else. He missed her, and couldn't help but blame the victory for his misery.

Wet snow was beginning to get into the fur lining Malfius's gloves, sneaking and snaking its way past his buttoned tunic and soaking him through. He couldn't keep his eyes open any more, cold numbing his face. No longer feeling that standing outside of the nice, warm, inebriated stone walls of Windhelm and pondering to himself was a wise course of action, Malfius creaked open one of the flaps of the Khajit Caravan hut and stepped out of the snow.

Overly-cheerful muttering entered his ears before the flap had even managed to shut behind him. Kicking snow off of his boots and walking across the dry dirt, feeling awkward as he stood directly next to a broodily-drinking Khajit, he found his accomplice to be a bit more astonishing than most of the people he'd met in the Thalmor Embassy, a delightful mixture of cunning and charm.

"Hehehehehe....this is it...this is it! Can you smell it? The scent of Ulfric's blood on my dagger...." Malfius clapped excitedly. "OH JOY! I can almost taste it! Ohhh...more delicious than any sweetroll, I could only imagine! Ah, well, at least until we get inside. Oh what a delightful day it will be when cold steel pierce virgin skin! And to think it'll be me-err..us! Yes, US US US! Together, combined...we'll cause discord and chaos, murder and mayhem, havoc and chaos! Oh it'll be MARVELOUS! Simply BRILLIANT! Oh ho ho...please tell me you're enjoying this as much as I am, Saeria? Oh please, please, please! We'll sing of Ulfric Stormcloak's death this day! Shall we get started with our hehe... 'Prelude to disaster?' I can't wait to hear the orchestra of screams ringing sweetly in my ear after they realize their beloved High King lies dead. We'll be certain to give him a well deserved, closed casket funeral. C'mon what do you say? A toast to the murder of Ol' Deadking Ulfric, may he rest in pieces..."

Malfius poured two flagons full of Colovian Brandy and handed one to his accomplice, with slight curtsy as his eyes bulged wide as he pondered on the many ways he could desecrate Ulfric's humanity.

She accepted the mug, shooting a glance at her not-so-long-acquainted partner before giving it a sip.

He was an absolute madman, she had gathered from their time together - completely off his rocker. Fascinating, she supposed. He was so difficult to read at times. She made it a game to guess what he might do next. Her musings stopped abruptly as she threw back her head to down the rest of the brandy, placing it delicately on a nearby barrel.

"Oh, believe me," murmured Saeria, pulling up her hood, "I'm just as thrilled as you are. Don't you think it'll be fun? When the Stormcloaks come to their senses?"

Mentally, she dissected all the possible reactions to the results of their assignment, smirking to herself - the entire country would throw up a storm.

"Hmm? Oh yes...of course...the dogs will be whimpering without their beloved UL-FRIC BARKING ORDERS AT THEM! Cut off the head of the snake...and the body shall fall. Cut off the hea- oh, now there's an IDEA!" Malfius chuckled maniacally as he finished his flagon in a large gulp, leaving the finishing touch of a disturbing belch.

He was thrilled that his new friend was feeding into his madness, quenching his thirst for brewing a primal chemistry. After all, they were meant to work in tandem in order to pull off the stunt of a lifetime. This plot required the cooperation of many of the Dominion's allies.

The first race that was up to bat to prove their loyalties to the Dominion were the lowly Khajiit, masters of trickery and treachery. It was now time to serve their superiors and play their role in this game of foul play. In the end, they were all pawns on the board, to be shifted and sacrificed at will, so that the Thalmor would invade deep behind enemy lines and capture the most important piece on the board.

The King.

"Well what are you waiting for, cat? Obviously someone rolled around in the litter box too long. What is that foul stench? Eww. Disgusting. How about you make yourself useful and earn the coin you're working for? Yes, that's what I say, coin. Shiny coin. That's the only language you felines understand these days, right? Coin...and skooma to feed your little ones. Aww.... How cute. WELL!? What are you waiting for? We need those guards at the front gate occupied and it's your time to serve the dish of distraction! Now go! Go! Before I step on your tail!"

Saeria watched the harassment indifferently, crossing her arms as she waited for things to unfold. Her lips thinned as she regarded the cat. Khajiit were so dirty.

"Keep your voice down a little, won't you?" she said to her partner lightly. "Don't want to set off the guards."

The Khajiit Malfius was speaking to narrowed his eyes, ears flattening against his head. Though he would've liked nothing more than to take a sucker punch to the Altmer's face, he knew his place, and hissing under his breath, he backed away to fulfill his role.

Two guards were posted on either side of the gate, arms crossed and standing tall. The Khajiit approached them, feigning dragged legs and a precarious balance. For good measure, his ears and tails appeared to be twitching sporadically as well.

"It comes!" he cried out loudly, grabbing onto the nearest guard. "This one has seen it! The sugars spoke to him! A dragon, just north! Come! Come see it!" He began to pull at the guard, trying to drag him away.

Malfius raised a curious brow at the sly, calculating woman.

"Oh quiet.... Yes, yes.... We'll be as quiet as two skeevers getting it on with a horker. I understand. I understand it all. We must be delicate. Like a mountain flower, full of grace, as we waltz in and perform the wonderful dance of death...hehe...haha."

Malfius pouted as the kitty cat ran off to do his dirty work. "Mmm... Gone already...and I was just about to demand that he lick my boots clean. They've been needing a good polish worthy of a Thalmor, wouldn't you agree?"

He thrusted his hood over his head and watched it drape over his golden locks. His eyes glowed a sparkling tinge of orange as the shade swallowed the rest of his facial features whole.

"My...my.... He does put on a dreadfully good show. Maybe we should keep him, show him off to old Elenwyn for a few laughs before she tires of him and sends him to the dungeon to my house of fun fun fun.... Oh, how exciting.... I've had the pleasure of dismembering limbs, but I was always curious on how the 'jiits would look without their tail. Almost deeply so.... Well I guess we best be off, then. No time to tarry on about these things. Appointments to keep and all that. We wouldn't want to be late for the festivities. Kings don't kill themselves, you know, someone's got to walk them through it and show them how it's done. Give them a real reason to celebrate and cheer!"

"Bloody cat!" muttered the other guard, leaving his post to assist his comrade, who was being dragged bodily down the road. The latter was trying to dig his heels in, the snow making it well impossible and the Khajiit's grip such a vice that he found it difficult to go for his sword.

Nodding to Malfius, she drew her cloak tight around her, sweeping through the camp and towards the gate while the guardsmen were preoccupied. Saeria pushed the gate open sharply, slipping through the small opening - the massive door creaked, but the Khajiit was harping so loudly by now, it was a wonder she could hear it.

"There are two! When this one saw, there was but one" he cried, gesticulating wildly towards the moons. He tossed a convincingly frantic look over his shoulder at the fast-approaching guard, the sound of sliding steel tipping him off.
He threw the arm of the other down and made a break for it.

"Hehe well would you look at that...that cat might be more useful than I thought. I might be able to make a nice fur coat out of him if the guards catch him and leave his body to rot. Their tails would make for a pretty stylish belt as well. The finest furs! Imported from Elsweyr! I'll be the talk of the town!" Malfius raised the gleaming gemstone that casted his reflection upon the surface. "Oh my..aren't we just a handsome devil today! Cloak and dagger to match. Just perfect for the occasion."

Malfius blinked, startled at the quick pace of his companion. She had already managed to penetrate the walls of windhelm, and he was left ogling his precious black soul gem at the camp.

He trudged through the frost, as a harsh wind delivered a cruel blizzard, slapping snow across his face as his hood flapped in the gust of the gale.

"Damn these Nords and their freezing habitats...what creature could happily live under these conditions? They're worse than Frost trolls! And twice as hairy!"

Malfius crept slowly beside Saeria, in a disturbingly extreme close proximity, for the sake of 'Body warmth's' comfort.

If only mildly, she was used to his odd habits by now - the long-winded soliloquys, the complete lack of regard for the concept of personal space - and so she opted to ignore his proximity. Calling him out on it would be too troublesome. It certainly wouldn't make him any less unnerving.

Her skin was already crawling from being in a town so infested by Nords, and Saeria suppressed a shudder of revulsion. They were in the Gray Quarter soon enough, to her relief. A few Dunmer shot them curious looks, but the majority spared them a single glance before turning away, averting their eyes quickly. She stopped just shy of a corner bend, observing the sign of the shop they were in front of as a guard strolled past them.

Almost time.

"Let's find the spy," she said quietly, glancing at Malfius. "Quickly."

Dalos found himself pacing the Grey Quarter with a faster tempo than he should have. It was difficult to stay focused though. He was going to get a play a part in Ulfric's demise! The Grey Quarters was a blunt reminder of the good his death would do. Dalos already felt the beginnings of an adrenaline rush and the mission hadn't even started yet. He hadn't ever been one to be patient, or very focused.

He almost forgot that he was supposed to be looking for two Thalmor agents. He spotted them after a while though. Two altmer were wandering the streets. Dalos connected the dots there and approached them.

"Malfius and Saeria?"

Dalos felt his letter in his pocket. He'd examined the guard patrols thoroughly. He was confident he could get his new allies past them, if they didn't mind a little bloodshed. He'd done as it said. Now would the fun start?

Nico was waiting he knew his role in the thalmores plot and he had been waiting for this, ever since ulfrics men had killed his parents and destroyed his home. In a ridiculous chefs apron that barely hid his armour and weapons he walked near the gray quarter waiting for the signal.

Malfius' eyes gleamed with glee at all the potential lives that could be collected from Windhelm and delivered to the ghettos to Sovngarde. He took a quick detour to the right of candlehearth hall down the stairways that lead to the Grey Quarter where a drunken Nord mockingly cursed a Dunmer woman and belittled her for his own amusement.

His eyes darted to ever single gray-skinned Mer, scanning the area for any trace of their contacts they were to meet in the New Gnisis Cornerclub, a tavern run strictly by refugees of Morrowind. This would provide the perfect hideout to discuss the base operations, as the guards never bothered providing much security for those damn dark elves.

On the outskirts of the tavern, a lone Dunmer had approached them discretely.

"Malfius and Saeria?"



Malfius cocked his head slightly, studying the individual several times over before pulling out a Thalmor Dossier and reading over his profile.

"At night come they come without being told. At day they are lost without being stolen."

He muttered the phrase, hoping the Dunmer would know the password phrase, identifying him as their contact. The operation would require a great deal of finesse and he had to be extremely certain he could trust the man who stood before him.

Saeria didn't offer a reply, nor did she wait for the Dunmer's. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw what appeared to be a cook loitering around the Quarter, slight form indicating a Breton or Imperial. Touching Malfius's shoulder lightly, she nodded in his direction before taking off at a brisk pace.

Not many of the human races enjoyed going through the Gray Quarter for anything, let alone nothing at all, and their Forsworn contact had told them he would meet them there. She slowed as she neared him, footsteps becoming more deliberate.

"What is it that is so fragile, saying a single name may break it?" she asked softly, observing him from underneath her hood.

Nico replied to the Altmer, who was the contact.
"Silence," he paused for a second. "Are you the contact?"
Nico checked his concealed weapons, ready for the operation.

(She's an Altmer, for future reference.)

"Yes. I am," she replied in a clipped voice, her disdain for human races seeping through. How she loathed to require their aid. "You understand your part in this, correct?"

The justicar motioned for him to follow her, slipping into one of Windhelm's many dark alleys so that there would be no witnesses to their conversation. It didn't bother her to split with her partner for a little bit. Though insane, Malfius was perfectly capable of taking care of business. They'd agreed to meet up once more in the spy's hideout when they were ready.

Once she was sure there was no one there, she handed him several potions - magicka and stamina tonics, fortifiers, various poisons, and a single vial of invisibility.

Dalos frowned for a moment, as if in doubt. In truth, such a riddle would probably defeat him if he hadn't already been given the answer.

"Stars," he said with a smile, though his eyes followed the retreating Altmer. He wanted to ask what they were supposed to do now, but figured that it wouldn't take much longer before everyone was ready.

The idea of channeling magicka for an illusive pacification spell on the dunmer crossed Malfius' mind as he snarled at his hesitance with malice in his eyes. He could not afford to risk any possibility of the man not being their contact and allow him to actually take the time to process it through.

"Stars."

A brief release of relief painted his facial expressions as he contemplated on just how if the man had replied only a few moments later. He would have to dispose of him, as well as the thought of him being a potential asset.

"Ah... Mr. Dolas...the Mer-Dog.... It's a pleasure to meet your acquaintance. Now before we get too concerned with
formalities, how about we go somewhere a little more...secluded?" he muttered, with deceit chilled on the tip of his tongue, eyeballing the New Gnisis Cornerclub, which served as an amiable location for further discussion, away from prying Nordic ears.

"Mer-Dog?" Dalos silently mouthed. He noticed Malfius' hint and lead them to New Gnisis Cornerclub. Dalos felt uncomfortable turning his back on Malfius, something about this Altmer's mannerism gave him a feeling of caution.

That was good though. He imagined how cautious their enemies would have to feel. He entered the club without bothering to hold open the door for Malfius. Dalos wasn't good at remembering courtesies.

"I'll get us some drinks," the dunmer said. He was good at remembering his beverage though.

Malfius chuckled at the Dunmer's quizzical inquiry, before shadowing him into the New Gnisis Cornerclub, out of the danger zone of the open alleys, showing a great distaste for a descendant of highborn blood. Perhaps one day, he would have to remind his Mer cousin of his inferiority to the High Elves, but as for now, his manipulative nature would humor the pawn's ignorance.

After all, he was just another expendable piece to be moved across the board.

"Excellent. I'll have a shot of Firebrand Wine. It calms my nerves. Now, on to the agenda at hand. I do hope your fangs are sharp enough for this job. Don't think for a second your puppy-dog supernatural abilities have slipped past the knowledge of the Thalmor Embassy. Our all-seeing eye keeps close tabs on our associates, before we allow them to join our ranks."

While the Dunmer provided the beverages, Malfius stood over a table embroidered with a map defining the layout of Windhelm and the Palace, stretching his arms out and resting his palm on opposite corners. Scarlet markings indicating guard posts and sharp lines sketched defined their patrol routes.

"I see you've been spending several days on this operation. You've got all the exact details down to a precise science. These are well drawn schematics...heh...maybe the canine is worth his weight in gold after all...."

"So when do we get this started?" he said to the elf, readying his weapons and heading towards the inn where he would meet with the Thalmor commander.

Dalos didn't even try to hide his surprise at Malfius' statement. He didn't like the idea of being watched so closely and now that the thalmor knew he was a werewolf... Dalos felt like he was in a corner. Regardless, the dunmer handed Malfius his drink and took a seat.

"I wouldn't want to disappoint anyone with a faulty plan," Dalos responded, unsure what to make of the thalmor's casual attitude towards his lycanthropy. Most people feared his kind after all. How powerful, or arrogant, was this elf?

"We won't be able to get through without taking a few guards out, but it should still be a stealthy invasion, as long as everyone can keep up. How long do we wait?"

Nico headed into the tavern that the Thalmor were plotting in and saw the Altmer talking to a Dunmer. He knew they were the people.
Walking over to them, he asked, "Are you the people?"

There was a certain shift in the air as Malfius's tone grew sharper, like skyforge steel crafted and tipped with venom. His newly found, malicious nature begot that of an educated individual, both analytical and calculating. He trusted the abilities of his counterpart would prove resourceful. Deep within the Dunmer was an unrivaled and untapped potential of escalating force and blind fury, fitting only to one whose blood was infused with that of a Lycan.

He was certain the Dunmer, like many residents of the Grey Quarter, had an extreme distaste for Ulfric and his army of racist Nords. If the Dunmer desired to play a role in the liberation of his people, he would cooperate with Malfius. If he opposed him, certainly he would risk being hunted for the rest of his life by the Aldemeri Dominion for his betrayal and actions that foiled the assassination of Ulfric Stormcloak.

"It's obvious you take great pride in your work.... Who knew the mutt would make a worthy bloodhound that had a knack for sniffing out stormcloaks?" Malfius offered the meager backhanded compliment as he drank the Firebrand wine the Dunmer had served him generously.

Before he could answer the Dunmer, a Breton rudely intruded and interrupted their meeting. Malfius was uncertain where the Manmer's allegiance lied as snarled with a breath of hostility.

"Geez, whose ass did you have to kiss to get in here? Your manstink is bringing a vile stench in here. If you have no business with us, begone!" Malfius responded dismissively.

Nico went over to him and showed him his Forsworn dagger.
"Do you want my help or not? I could just as easily rat you out to the Stormcloaks," he said to him quietly. The nerve of these Thalmor. At least they would help him with his rebellion.

Dalos gave a loud, but empty, laugh. It was becoming obvious to him that Malfius wasn't someone to trifle with and the forsworn's words were making him nervous.

He looked at the forsworn with disapproval. "We're supposed to be allies right? Friends shouldn't be so quick to betray one another. It's not as if anyone would live for much longer if they did anyways."

The dunmer didn't know the details concerning everyone in this mission, but it was obvious that this guy was part of the plan, or at least now he was. He gestured for the man to take a seat, not wanting to waste more time with anymore petty arguments.

Nico sat down and looked at the maps and schematics on the table.

"This is good, but I need some assurance that you will help me when I return to my battle in the Reach," he asked them.
Well, if I get their help, I can break into Cidnha mine and break out Madanach. Then we will be free, he thought.