A Chance Arrangement

[Svarnor]

Merythyn was upside down.
To tell the truth, it was not the first time the Dunmer thief had been in this position, but it was certainly the first time he'd been clinging to the bottom of a cart as it bounced and bumped along the road to Helgen.
His shoulders burned with effort, and his fingers felt as if they were about to fall off, but Merythyn held on, knowing that to release his grip was to allow himself to be discovered, assuming he survived the stomping hooves of the horse pulling the cart behind his.
The young Dunmer had been looking for a way to infiltrate the Village and Imperial Outpost of Helgen for days, since he'd gotten a contract from none other than Proventus Avenicci, Steward to Jarl Balgruuf of Whiterun. Evidently, one of the townsfolk of Helgen had recently come into inheritance, and had received a necklace, set with jewels and wrapped in enchantments, as their share. Clearly Avenicci wanted the item.
Unfortunately, security in Helgen had been getting tighter since the war began, and the fort was closed to all but the Legion and the Townsfolk.
Thus, the cart.
As the cart bumped along the road, Merythyn listened carefully to the conversation on the cart. He had made it to the transport in the dead of night, and had no idea of the occupants. The first to speak was a woman's voice, with a Nordic accent:

'Can you believe it? All this time we've worked, and it's over. Our cause is doomed.'
Another voice, with a similar affectation, though this was clearly a male:
'Don't forget Stone-Fist and the others. Just because Ulfric's been captured doesn't mean the fighting's finished.'
Ulfric? Could they mean Ulfric Stormcloak, leader of the rebellion? If Merythyn had accidentally grabbed hold of a prison cart, he would want to get away as soon as possible, necklace or no necklace. If Ulfric was here, then there might be an execution, and if he was found, the Headsman's block would still be warm.
Not that the Dark Elf had actually committed any real crime, yet. The Imperial's would probably just execute him, along with the Stormcloaks, just because it was easier. Unfortunately, they were drawing close to Helgen now. Merythyn could hear the guards at the front of the wagon line calling out to their comrades on the walls. He heard the gate creak open, and more than one Stormcloak curse. Evidently the Thalmor had a presence here.
The wagons rolled through the town, stopping finally at the base of a tower. As the prisoners filed off the carts, moving towards a pair of soldiers with a list of criminals, Merythyn slipped out from beneath the wagon. All eyes were focused on the prisoners as the priest began to perform their last rites, and one of the Stormcloaks interrupted, asking them to hurry it up.
Having reached the safety of a sidestreet, Merythyn looked back, and couldn't draw his eyes away as the Headsman's axe went up, and then back down with a sickening crunch.
The young Dunmer winced, moving once again into the shadows. His best chance to escape would be over the wall, but now that he was in Helgen, and everyone's attention was on the executions, it seemed a shame not to go after the mark. The thief crept towards a house that fit Avenicci's description, and was awaiting the sound of another execution when a roar echoed across the sky.
A dragon swooped down from the heavens, spewing fire and knocking down stones from the walls. As the beast's tail swept across the roof of one house, knocking the flaming thatch down into the street, Merythyn rolled to the side, barely avoiding a beam which hit the pavement with a crack.
Despite the chaos, the fighting, ad the escaping Stormcloaks, Merythyn was still focused on the job. He sprinted towards the house, all attempts at secrecy forgotten. As the Dark Elf burst through the door, he swept the room with his eyes, searching for the necklace. Unfortunately, the house was occupied. A woman, perhaps the wife of one of the men who was watching the execution, still sat in her chair, suprised by he noise and this stranger. Around her throat was clasped a silver necklace, resplendent with jewels.
'Sorry' Muttered Merythyn, giving the woman an apologetic smile. A moment later, he lunged forward, snatching the necklace and pulling it free. Before the woman could react, the dark elf was out the door, running pell mell for the gate.
An imperial soldier spotted him, but seemed to pay no heed in the confusion. Given a moment more, the man might have wondered where the Dunmer had sprung from, but just then the dragon landed behind him, washing the figure in flames.
As the dragon took to the air once more, Merythyn sprinted the last few meters to the gate, and ran for his life towards the forest. He made it, plunging deep into the twisted undergrowth, pushing forward, towards Ivarstead.
Just when he was sure he had lost all pursuers, a voice spoke from behind Merythyn.
'You'd better stay very still, or I might just put an arrow through you.'

 

[bulbaquil]

That's a pretty amusing take on the start. I like it.

 

[Afatguiarist]

The fat man likes it, moar?


Sent from my iPod touch using Tapatalk

 

[Svarnor]

Merythyn turned slowly, his hands held above his head. The silver necklace was still dangling from one clenched fist.
His attacker was standing upon a slight rise in the ground, with a bow trained expertly on the dunmer thief. Of course it had to be a bosmer. It couldn't be someone who was, you know, awful with a bow. Someone who Merythyn would have a chance to escape.
'Drop the necklace, now.'
That meant the Bosmer was either another thief, a bandit, or a do-gooder. His apparel suggested the first, however. With a cuiraiss, hood, and boots of much finer make than any bandit, the man appeared to be covered in pockets.
'I said, drop the necklace.'
This time, Merythyn complied, opening his fist slightly to allow the necklace's chain to slither through his fingers.
'Good. Now, stand still.'
Merythyn stayed frozen in place
The Bosmer was yet to lower his arrow. For the first time, Merythyn noticed that instead of the common barbed head, this arrow had a sphere with a diameter about the size of a septim. Immediately, Merythyn knew that this weapon would not kill, but that it would still hurt.
Seeing where his target's gaze was focused, the Bosmer laughed.
'Do you want a closer look?'
Merythyn barely had time to open his eyes before the arrow zipped through the air, and caught him between the eyes.
As his Dunmer foe crumpled backwards, Niruin strode swiftly towards where the necklace glimmered. Delvin hadn't told him there'd be competition for the mark. Of course, Delvin seldom told him anything but 'The mark is x, the place is x, your pay is x. Go'
This Dunmer was a sneaky one, though. Niruin had been forced to wait till the guards were focused on their arriving comrades, scale the wall, make a nearly twenty-foot drop to the ground below, all just to see the Dunmer slip out from under the cart and make his way, stealthily at first, but then in a more hurried, panicked way as the dragon attacked, towards the house. Niruin had been forced to follow the Dunmer all the way out here.
Moving back towards Helgen, and towards his horse, which was picketed nearby, Niruin chuckled. It was a petty the Dunmer wasn't in the Guild. He could even have given old Delvin a run for his money, when it came to sneaking. Ah, but he wasn't.
Riding through the forest to avoid the dragon that was still flying around Helgen, Niruin set out east, towards Riften.

Merythyn's first feeling was of intense pain in his forehead. For a moment, he was back in his old cabin, east of Windhelm. He was Ill, and Alfe, his fiancé, was tending to him.
What was digging into his back? Gritting his teeth through the pain, Merythyn reached behind him and found a rather large stone. A stone? In his bed? And why were there so many leaves on the earth around him?
Suddenly memory came rushing back to Merythyn. He immediately stopped thinking about the cabin or Alfe. The cabin had been destroyed by the Stormcloaks at the beginning of the war. 'Traitors' the soldiers had called he and Alfe 'Traitors and Imperial Spies.' Alfe and he had fled, but he'd lost her in a snowstorm.
Instead, Merythyn thought of the Bosmer who had attacked him. The elf had almost certainly been a thief, as the necklace was missing from the earth.
Muttering a curse, Merythyn stood. Immediately, he sank to his knees once more, clasping his head. Reaching with one hand for his belt, he drew out a potion. A mix of Nightshade, Deathbell, and Jarrin Root, most would think that it was a deadly poison. Alfe had been an experienced alchemist, however, and had showed Merythyn how to mix the three and create. A potent painkiller, instead, as she often joked, of a potent person-killer.
Taking a small sip to conserve supplies of the potion, Merythyn shook the bottle thoughtfully. It was almost half-empty. Perhaps five more doses before he would have to get more. Harvesting Deathbell and Nightshade would be easy enough, but Jarrin Root had to be imported from Stros M'kai, and the few merchants who could procure it would know of its deadly uses and charge extra for keeping silent.
Glad to feel that the pain had receded to nothing, Merythyn stood, and looked about him. He was no expert tracker, but the stranger had made no attempts to conceal his footprints.
'Perhaps he figured I wouldn't be fit to follow till the rain and snow had obscured his trail.' though Merythyn. Under most circumstances, the stranger would have been right, and concealing his tracks would have lost him time. In this instance, however, the stranger's need for speed had been to his deficit, and allowed Merythyn to follow him back towards Helgen. Finally the tracks stopped in a clearing near the ruined fort. There, the Bosmer had clearly picketed his horse. There was a hole where a spike had been driven into the relatively soft earth, as well as trampled grass where the horse had lain and eaten. Unfortunately, if the Stranger had a horse, he might very well get far enough away that Merythyn could no longer catch him. Sighing, the thief turned and headed back into the forest, wishing he had a horse.
Within three minutes, one nearly killed him.

 

[SufferingOne]

Very interesting read! I look forward to future posts.

 

[Svarnor]

Merythyn was moving back along the road towards Helgen, thinking perhaps that he’d try and find a horse somewhere in the chaos and fire that was now the fort, or perhaps steal one from someone who tried to flee, when he heard hoof beats on the road behind him.

Unarmed, Merythyn turned, blowing into his hand to summon flames, as he’d learned as a child. One never knew who was coming, however, and Merythyn was no expert mage, so he kept the flames hidden, appearing to anyone who approached to be an unarmed Dunmer.

The rider clearly meant trouble. One could see it in the aggressive way he kicked his horse, in the way he snarled, his lips curling, and, most obviously, in the way the Nord raised his massive battle axe of his head, holding the weapon with two hands and kicking his steed, controlling it with his legs.

The man was within twenty feet now, and Merythyn could see victory in his eyes.

The ball of fire slammed into the bandit, blasting him backwards off his horse and sending the body smashing through the forest. The horse, which had not been injured by the rapidly appearing and vanishing fire, was spooked nonetheless, and was turning to flee when Merythyn caught its reins. It took all of the thief’s skill and all his strength to calm the horse, and to make it stand still long enough for him to mount up.

Turning his newfound steed with a gentle nudge towards the place he’d last seen his attacker’s tracks, he set off. The horse seemed surprised to have a master who wasn’t constantly kicking and yanking him around, and Merythyn could imagine it was trying to make things easier on the Dunmer, who was by no means an expert rider.

Riding through the trees, Merythyn soon found his mysterious foe’s tracks. The cocky Bosmer had ridden without care, clearly believing it would be days before his opponent was fit to travel. It would have been, were it not for Alfe’s potion.

As he rode, Merythyn imagined what he would do once he caught the Bosmer. First, Merythyn decided he would retrieve the necklace. Second, he might pin the archer to a tree using a dozen of his own arrows. Yes, that would be what he’d do. He’d tie the wood elf to a tree, then pin him up, and leave him there. It would serve the fellow right.

Onwards and onwards he went. After several hours of going up and down, he saw the lights of Ivarstead in the distance. Good, he could stay at the inn tonight and set off again in the morning.

It was too dark to make out the sign, but he knew the place was an inn. He could hear a voice singing inside, along with the clink of mugs and the crackling of a fire.

Stepping inside, Merythyn stayed in the shadows by the door, not wanting to interrupt the revelry.

The innkeeper spotted him though, and waved him over.

“What’ll it be for you?” the Nord asked.



“A room for the night is all I need.”

The man nodded, opening a hand to accept coin. Merythyn handed the gold over, not worrying about the cost. He’d likely just steal it back on the way out in the morning.

 

[Svarnor]

I apologize for the wierd sizes... Its not letting me fix that first paragraph

 

[Svarnor]

Hey- I'm hoping to fill the Flagon with other characters when Merythyn eventually tracks Niruin there, and figured I might ask the people here if they had any characters they'd written that they could let me use. It sure would be easier than coming up with a host of my own new characters, and I think it'd be cool to have people from other's fanfics in mine. Anyone have a good character they'd let me use?

 

[bulbaquil]

My character Halsyn Barsi is for rent, if you want to use him. He's a Dunmer archer who gravitates to quick ins and outs - burglary, shill, and sweep jobs mostly. Used to live in the Gray Quarter of Windhelm, affiliated somewhat with House Telvanni. Dislikes Argonians and Stormcloaks.

 

[Svarnor]

That sounds cool... It might be a chapter or two before he actually makes it to the Flagon, but I want to be prepared.

 

[Svarnor]

(The Necro Is Strong In This One)

The next morning, Merythyn left the Inn, his pockets filled with more gold than they had been when he arrived. He whistled as his horse carried him away, trying to appear comfortable in the saddle. Maybe, he thought, if he looked comfortable he'd feel comfortable.
It didn't work, and he was distracted enough that he lost the tracks, took the wrong path, and ended up going back the way he'd come. By the time he'd finally gotten himself straightened out again and made it back to Ivarstead (which turned out to be the village he'd stopped in) it was almost noon. He avoided the Inn, heading straight along the road. He suspected his that damned bosmer would be heading for Riften- at any rate, it was the nearest hold capital and as the road grew larger, there was no way to continue following the same specific tracks.
Little happened as he rode- he passed a traveling bard, who offered to sing him a tune. On he rode, ignoring the man.
Darkness was gathering as Merythyn approached the city. It's reputation for crime and corruption was proven almost immediately when the guard on the gate requested he pay a "Visitor's Tax".
Merythyn sighed, handing over the money. He'd need to keep a low profile until he could get a little more information. A Bosmer Thief. That was unspecific- he didn't even know if he was operating out of Riften.
Once inside, Merythyn took a moment to marvel at just how rundown Riften appeared. He'd visited the city once or twice before, and it had always struck him as just being the most depressing of the Hold Capitals. Rotting wood, all stacked on top of other things and slowly falling apart and drifting off into the lake.

Merythyn crossed the road silently, entering the Inn that dominated his view. The Bee and Barb, read the sign over the door. It was run, as it turned out, by a friendly enough pair of argonians. Merythyn did not subscribe to the racism shared by so many dunmer- in his experience, they were practically treated the same near Windhelm, so why bother looking further down on them?

As Merythyn sat, eating quietly, his thoughts wandered to Alfe. He was quick to try and imagine something else. To think about anything other than her collapsing in the snow, curling up. Anything but her being so alone, surrounded by nothingness for as far as she could see.

Merythyn shook the thoughts away, focusing on the task at hand. He scanned the room, looking for someone- anyone- who looked as if they might have connections.Not the priest of Mara, he decided. And the Argonian at the bar and the Argonian serving were... No. They didn't strike him as the type either.

He was just about to approach the balding man near the doorway when said door burst open, and in walked a woman in steel armour came striding in. She had dark hair, and an intense expression. She stood near the stairway, leaning against the wall as if it was her usual location, and folded her arms across her chest. Her. She was Merythyn's best bet. The man near the doorway looked shady... But he also looked like he was utterly meaningless in whatever organization or system he might be tied to. This woman looked like she had some level of importance.

But Merythyn needed to test the water first. He spent the rest of the evening watching the woman, until eventually she turned, leaving through the same door she'd entered. In the entire time, she hadn't spoken to anyone, just surveyed the room. Perhaps Merythyn would see about getting himself better armed before trying to make contact.
He stood, heading uptstairs to the room he'd rented. It was simple, but he didn't mind. He was used to it.

Hopefully he wouldn't be in Riften long, thought Merythyn as he drifted off to sleep, after triple checking the lock on the door. The faster he could return that necklace to his buyer, the better.

 

[A.Auditore]

please continue

 

[Svarnor]

Merythyn wasn't sure what time he woke. He couldn't tell whether he'd been asleep for hours or minutes, or whether the sun had appeared on the horizon yet. There was, however, one thing he did know.
Someone was in the room.
Perhaps it was an imperceptible creak as a foot was lowered onto a floorboard, or a whisper as two pieces of cloth rubbed together, but something told Merythyn there was definitely someone else in the room.
He quickly ran his options through his head, eyes still closed. The room was still stuffily warm- the door was closed. Perhaps the night visitor had even locked it behind them. He couldn't know, and he didn't want to be surprised to find out.
Merythyn was unarmed, defenseless, and he had a sneaking suspicion that the little fire trick that had worked on the bandit would not be enough here. What could he-

His thoughts had taken too long. Merythyn felt the bed shift as someone leaned heavily on it. A smooth, cold something touched his throat.
Merythyn held his breath. A slit throat in the middle of the night by a mysterious stranger was not exactly how he had been planning to go.
A hand roughly gripped his shoulder, and the pressure at Merythyn's neck decreased just long enough for someone to shake him. He opened his eyes, trying to mimic grogginess.
"Wha-" said Merythyn, blinded briefly by the bright light. A lantern was being held in his face. He couldn't make out the face behind the light, but it was a female voice that spoke.
"Who are you with?"
A Nord. Female. The pieces started falling together. The woman from the downstairs. It seemed like contact had come a little earlier than Merythyn had expected.
The blade was pressed harder against Merythyn's throat.
"I said" came the voice again "Who are you with?"
"Nobody." Merythyn managed to stutter out.
"Wrong answer. Were you hired by someone? Did Nezra send you?" maybe it was Merythyn's imagination, but it seemed like the blade pushed even harder against his neck. Did he feel a droplet of something warm running down towards his chest?

"Nobody!" he repeated "I swear. I'm not after you."

For a half a moment, it seemed like the blade was pulling back. Then the pressure returned.
"Are you lying to me, Dunmer?" Dunmer was suddenly the greatest insult imaginable.
"No." Merythyn repeated "I just need information, that's all." The pressure became less intense. "I thought you might know about someone I was trying to find. He mugged me, and I tracked him part of the way here."
The blade pulled away, as did the lantern. With it no longer so close to his face, Merythyn could get a better look at his visitor. Sure enough, it was the woman he'd been watching earlier.
"How do I know" she said, the lantern casting half-light over her suspicious expression "That I can trust you."

Merythyn rolled to the side, hopping to his feet.
"When do you ever know you can trust anyone?" he said, much more comfortable without a blade at his throat. The woman nodded, conceeding the point.
"Now then." she said "I'm going to need to see some money before I even talk to you about finding your guy."

Merythyn sighed. Most of his money was hidden away in his hiding-place near Whiterun. He'd only brought a little along with him, in case somethign went wrong. Which it most definitely had. And most of that he'd spent on food and room tonight.
"I don't have much." Merythyn said "But I've got a client who's expecting to hear back from me once I get back what this man I'm looking for stole from me. I'll give you a portion of the cut."
The woman shook her head.
"No." she said "I want at least part of the payment up front."
Merythyn sighed, rubbing his forehead. "How much?"
She rattled off the numbers like she'd done this before. "One hundred up front, three-fifty once I find your guy. Plus any expenses that might come up."
That was far more than Merythyn could afford. Just paying the up front cost would almost empty what money he had left. "No." he said, doing his best to try and hide the fact that there was no way he'd be able to pay that much "That's ridiculous. He's one person. How hard could he possibly be to find?"

The woman shrugged. "The rate is the rate. You don't have to hire me."

Merythyn didn't see any other option, so he sighed, retrieving his money bag and counting out the coins. The woman smiled with a false expression of companionship.
"Well, then." she said "Nice doing business with you. I'm Sapphire, by the way. Now then, tell me about this guy."

Merythyn described the bosmer- his attire, his personality, his skill with the bow and strangely-shaped arrows. Sapphire frowned briefly at the description of the flat-ended arrows, but let him finish.
"I'll check with my contacts." she said "And tell you as soon as I've found anything."

She stood, turning to go. Merythyn watched her leave, suprised at how quietly she'd moved in the armor he'd just realized she was still wearing. It was no surprise she'd been able to sneak in so well.

Rolling back over, Merythyn found that sleep did not come easily. He considered everything that could conceivably happen in the next couple of days and determined that he could get into a very sticky situation in a lot of different ways. "I'll need to be careful" was Merythyn's last thought as he drifted off to sleep.