Gigapact
Lollygagging Milk Drinker (according to guards)
The icy wind passed her face, turning her lips blue, her cheeks pale, slowing her heart. Salty water glazed over her eyes, welling up until spilling down her cold, aching cheeks. She fell to her knees, sinking into the white snow under the starless sky, gloomy clouds augmenting overhead. The wind whistled through her hair and around her head, a hidden, taunting morbid tune playing, piercing the numbing silence. Her fingers gripped at the snow, but it melted through her fingers like everything else, each fragment of her life melting away. She hunched over, staring into the blank snow, expressionless. She thought she would never be here again, in this position, in this state of mind, in this unbearable cold. She had been here before, but she had stood back up, believing she would never return. Her fantasy was freezing over, and reality was sinking into every poor within her flesh, taking hold of her. Her heart was barely beating and breathing had never been so exhausting. She realized that no matter what path she took, what corner she went around, what bridge she crossed, what mountain she climbed, she would end up back here. In this miserable snow, under this morbid sky, on her knees, empty inside. Before her lay her brothers and sisters from the Dark Brotherhood, their black and red armor drenched with blood. She could smell the metallic stench as the blood began to dry…
The girl shot up in her bed, shaking her head, attempting to get the nightmare out of her mind. This was the ninth time she had the same dream of her in the snow with her dead siblings.
Her whole life, she felt nothing, which is what led her to Skyrim. She was hoping to find a solution to the emptiness. No cure was found until she was contacted by the Dark Brotherhood; everything changed. She had a purpose, which was to mindlessly murder strangers. She eventually lost count of the bodies.
As the years went by, she felt a change though. She was no longer satisfied through her flawless assassinations, she needed something more. She began going out on her own. She would hunt deer, bears and any animal she could find for hours through the black night, attempting to fill the hole she felt inside her chest. Eventually, she started killing people, needless of contracts. She cleaned her tracks and kept her secret. For a while, this was enough. However, that familiar emptiness crept back. She felt like she was in a black room with no doors or windows. Just a small crack in the corner of the ceiling, allowing specks of light to touch her face, making her believe that there was a small hope, just a flicker of light at the end of the tunnel.
She became suspicious of her brothers and sisters. Were they planning to turn on her? After all, they were all ruthless assassins who murdered according to a piece of paper. What if someone wanted her dead? What if someone preformed the Black Sacrament with her name? The Dark Brotherhood would kill her. There was no such thing as a true family of assassins.
She stopped sleeping at night, in fear that she would be attacked while sleeping. She started digging through Astrid and Nazir’s things, searching for a plan they had constructed against her. She now stayed out longer, hunting all through the night and killing any bandits and innocent people she came across, shoving her dagger and shooting her arrows into countless necks and hearts. But nothing was ever enough.
As she became sleep deprived, her eyes grew red and inflamed, with black and blue circles underneath. Her hair was tangled, her skin ashen. Her brothers and sisters kept asking if she was alright, but she knew they were reveling in her pain.
The miserable days passed. Finally, the tension burst within her. Her blood pumped through her veins, swelling her heart, making her brain ache. Her fingers trembled as her breath hastened, her eyes darting across the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary. She ran to Astrid and told them all that they had to come outside at once. Babette, who had been out to gather alchemy ingredients, was being attacked by bandits. But she knew the true story. All of her brothers and sisters ran outside of the Sanctuary as she followed behind. The scene was gruesome.
Babette’s corpse lay on the road, her blood tainting the snow crimson. She had gaping slashes across her chest and her head was hanging on by a few tendons. She heard her brothers and sisters gasp, and then her vision went black.
Hours later, she woke up. As she struggled to stand, she examined the scene, and saw that all of her brothers and sisters laid broken and mutilated on the red snow before her. Her nightmare became reality. Astrid’s beautiful blue eyes were gone, many of Veezara’s scales peeled off and the rest worse. She could not remember a thing. Strangely, she felt nothing.
She turned around and walked back into the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary and stood by the pool of water, staring down into her reflection. But she did not see her face, but the face of a mad man. The face of Sheogorath. His reflection laughed at her insanely as she was dumbfounded, his eyes containing the twisted truths of life and the screaming of the insane. Fear then consumed her body, her pulse pounding, a cold sweat escaping the pores of her flesh. He was the Daedric Prince of Madness. What did he want with her?
He winked at her and then disappeared. As he vanished, she felt a strange pain, and then it was all back. She remembered everything in an instant, and felt the pain of all of those she had slaughtered simultaneously. All of the heads she had severed, the fingers she broke, the necks she snapped, the backs she stabbed of innocent people. All of it. She could feel her flesh peeling and her bones cracking, as had all of her victims. Her body convulsed with agony, and then the memories of her brothers and sisters flooded her mind until she felt like she was drowning in their thick blood. She slaughtered all of them. In the corner of her mind, she could hear Sheogorath laughing. He is inside everyone, and he had been watching her the whole time, taunting her. It was all in her head, her brothers and sisters betrayed. Now, Sheogorath sat there in her mind watching her completely unravel.
The girl could no longer take the agonizing emotional and physical pain. She grabbed her dagger and jabbed it into her heart, twisting the blade, her heart bursting. Her body fell limp on the floor, making a thud. As she bled out, Sheogorath grew bored and went in search of his next victim, leaving her corpse there to rot.
The girl shot up in her bed, shaking her head, attempting to get the nightmare out of her mind. This was the ninth time she had the same dream of her in the snow with her dead siblings.
Her whole life, she felt nothing, which is what led her to Skyrim. She was hoping to find a solution to the emptiness. No cure was found until she was contacted by the Dark Brotherhood; everything changed. She had a purpose, which was to mindlessly murder strangers. She eventually lost count of the bodies.
As the years went by, she felt a change though. She was no longer satisfied through her flawless assassinations, she needed something more. She began going out on her own. She would hunt deer, bears and any animal she could find for hours through the black night, attempting to fill the hole she felt inside her chest. Eventually, she started killing people, needless of contracts. She cleaned her tracks and kept her secret. For a while, this was enough. However, that familiar emptiness crept back. She felt like she was in a black room with no doors or windows. Just a small crack in the corner of the ceiling, allowing specks of light to touch her face, making her believe that there was a small hope, just a flicker of light at the end of the tunnel.
She became suspicious of her brothers and sisters. Were they planning to turn on her? After all, they were all ruthless assassins who murdered according to a piece of paper. What if someone wanted her dead? What if someone preformed the Black Sacrament with her name? The Dark Brotherhood would kill her. There was no such thing as a true family of assassins.
She stopped sleeping at night, in fear that she would be attacked while sleeping. She started digging through Astrid and Nazir’s things, searching for a plan they had constructed against her. She now stayed out longer, hunting all through the night and killing any bandits and innocent people she came across, shoving her dagger and shooting her arrows into countless necks and hearts. But nothing was ever enough.
As she became sleep deprived, her eyes grew red and inflamed, with black and blue circles underneath. Her hair was tangled, her skin ashen. Her brothers and sisters kept asking if she was alright, but she knew they were reveling in her pain.
The miserable days passed. Finally, the tension burst within her. Her blood pumped through her veins, swelling her heart, making her brain ache. Her fingers trembled as her breath hastened, her eyes darting across the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary. She ran to Astrid and told them all that they had to come outside at once. Babette, who had been out to gather alchemy ingredients, was being attacked by bandits. But she knew the true story. All of her brothers and sisters ran outside of the Sanctuary as she followed behind. The scene was gruesome.
Babette’s corpse lay on the road, her blood tainting the snow crimson. She had gaping slashes across her chest and her head was hanging on by a few tendons. She heard her brothers and sisters gasp, and then her vision went black.
Hours later, she woke up. As she struggled to stand, she examined the scene, and saw that all of her brothers and sisters laid broken and mutilated on the red snow before her. Her nightmare became reality. Astrid’s beautiful blue eyes were gone, many of Veezara’s scales peeled off and the rest worse. She could not remember a thing. Strangely, she felt nothing.
She turned around and walked back into the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary and stood by the pool of water, staring down into her reflection. But she did not see her face, but the face of a mad man. The face of Sheogorath. His reflection laughed at her insanely as she was dumbfounded, his eyes containing the twisted truths of life and the screaming of the insane. Fear then consumed her body, her pulse pounding, a cold sweat escaping the pores of her flesh. He was the Daedric Prince of Madness. What did he want with her?
He winked at her and then disappeared. As he vanished, she felt a strange pain, and then it was all back. She remembered everything in an instant, and felt the pain of all of those she had slaughtered simultaneously. All of the heads she had severed, the fingers she broke, the necks she snapped, the backs she stabbed of innocent people. All of it. She could feel her flesh peeling and her bones cracking, as had all of her victims. Her body convulsed with agony, and then the memories of her brothers and sisters flooded her mind until she felt like she was drowning in their thick blood. She slaughtered all of them. In the corner of her mind, she could hear Sheogorath laughing. He is inside everyone, and he had been watching her the whole time, taunting her. It was all in her head, her brothers and sisters betrayed. Now, Sheogorath sat there in her mind watching her completely unravel.
The girl could no longer take the agonizing emotional and physical pain. She grabbed her dagger and jabbed it into her heart, twisting the blade, her heart bursting. Her body fell limp on the floor, making a thud. As she bled out, Sheogorath grew bored and went in search of his next victim, leaving her corpse there to rot.
