Its been over a week!
*Reloads crossbow*

I'm sorry, but I actually have no idea when I'm going to be getting the next chapter up. I've got a great deal of stuff going on recently, and to be honest I just haven't been in the right mindset to write this story lately.

This doesn't mean that I've given up on the story, but it does mean that I might be taking a break for awhile. I simply can't force myself to write a story, especially when it's inteded to be comedic. Hope you guys understand.

Forced comedy is bad comedy. Improvised comedy, made like, then and there on a whim with no preplanning or force, is the best. Take a break, let the creativity engine cool down, and then rev it up again.

Try doing somethin creative!

Well, taking a bit of a break seems to have helped. I managed to come up with an idea for a chapter, and to be honest I think it was one of the ones I most enjoyed writing so far for this story. One thing I find is that trying to overly describe everything, like is useful in a more serious story, kind of kills the effect in a story like this.

Anyway, hope you all haven't minded the delay too much, and here's Chapter 10. I hope that you enjoy it. And, as always, I love to hear what you guys think, so let me know!

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Chapter 10: Playing it Wright (Is it ever simulated?)

"Alright, so what's the deal here, Slade?" Nathan asked the blonde-haired Imperial as the group slowly disembarked from their vessel at the Sadrith Mora docks, looking upon the large Telvanni city ahead of them. Large outcroppings of rock blocked their view of the city itself, and there was only a single door at the bottom of a large building up ahead that seemed to lead inside.

"Well, I know that there's a Speaker somewhere in the city," Slade replied, folding his arms over the front of his robe as the group gradually approached the large building leading inside the city. "But, I'm not exactly sure who it is, or what we should be looking for."

"Oh, no problem!" Alderin exclaimed sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "We'll just go around town, asking everybody if they've seen any professional killers walking around." The Altmer folded his own arms over his chest, shaking his head miserably. "You know, for being here to help us take down the Brotherhood, you're not very helpful."

"Consider me here for moral support, then," Slade countered, his tone remaining neutral, unaffected by Alderin's criticism. "Either way, after we're done here we can start making our way to Mournhold, the new base of the Dark Brotherhood."

As Nathan and the others approached the gates that would lead them into Sadrith Mora, however, they noticed something odd. What sounded like the screaming of people, and loud, unfamiliar music, coming from within the city itself.

"What the hell is that?" Netta asked curiously, cocking her head slightly to the side as she stared at the large building before them. "Some kind of weird mage orgy? Because with all the Daedra summoning they do..."

"I wouldn't put it past them," Nathan remarked, furrowing his brow slightly. "After all, they are Telvanni. Seems like they're into some pretty messed up [censored]."

"Great," Alderin griped, his stance drooping considerably. "Not only do we have to deal with another murderer who probably has some kind of really disturbing fetish, but now I have to watch a bunch of elderly Telvanni councillors getting their groove on?"

"I say we bust in there, and kick some ass!" Bruno exclaimed, readying his warhammer. "Ysmir knows I'm always up for a good smashing, especially when there's mages involved." The hulking Nord looked to Alderin, and patted him reassuringly on the shoulder. "Not you though, buddy. You're a good mage!"

"I'll try and contain my elation," Alderin mumbled back, unenthused, as he grabbed his staff from his back.

"Alright then," Nathan replied as he, Netta and Slade grabbed their weapons as well. "I'm inclined to agree with Bruno. Look out for Daedra, and anything else trying to kill us!"

"Seems like standard procedure by now, doesn't it guys?" Netta asked the others, grinning happily.

"One," Nathan counted as he levelled his foot, readying to kick at the bronze, circular shaped door. "Two, three!"

All five members of the party rushed through the door a mere second after Nathan kicked it open, spinning it on a hinge that ran through its centre. As they emerged in the city, though, they found dozens of people wandering about the streets casually, dressed in elaborate, colourful clothing, browsing vendors with huge assortments of different food and drink that lined the streets on which they walked. Various musicians played throughout the area as well, completing the content, happy atmosphere that seemed to permeate the place.

"What the hell is going on!?" Alderin exclaimed, confused, lowering his staff. "Isn't this the part where somebody makes a snide, condescending remark to us, before telling his henchmen to 'get us'?"

"You sound disappointed, Alderin," Nathan countered, lowering his blade as an Altmer with a colourful orange robe, and a loose fitting hat with three points ending in bells approached them, his attire jingling as he happily skipped towards them. "Hey, buddy, mind telling us what's going on here?" the Imperial asked, confused.

"Why, it's the fifteenth annual Sadrith Mora festival, of course!" the Elf announced proudly with a jovial voice. "A chance for the members of House Telvanni to forget their obligations and duties, and indulge themselves!"

"So, it's basically like every other day for House Telvanni then, right?" Alderin pointed out, obviously quite unimpressed by the man's speech.

"Well, the festival is open to members of the general public as well, of course," the Elf replied, still grinning excitedly. "All are welcome during the festival!" He carefully scrutinized the quintet, humming to himself as he did so. "But, judging from your appearances, I'd say you're one of the troupes that have come to participate in the theatrical productions of the day?"

"Huh? A troupe?" Bruno asked, puzzled as he scratched the back of his head. "What's that?"

"Well, actually-" Nathan began, explaining himself, before Slade placed a hand on his shoulder, signalling him to stop.

"Yeah, that's right," Slade replied naturally, nodding. "We're here to participate in the plays."

"Splendid!" the Altmer shouted happily, clasping his hands together. "I suspected as much. After all, the five of you look far too ridiculous together to be anything other than actors, yes?"

Alderin scowled at the jovial Elf. "You're a living, breathing jingle bell, and you're telling us that we look ridiculous?" He pompously crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes darting off to the side. "The irony is pounding us over the head."

The other Altmer seemed to refuse to let Alderin spoil his good mood, however. "I'm afraid that I have no spots for you four at the moment," he explained gesturing at the men. "But, there's a troupe putting on a re-enactment of The Real Barenziah, Part Four, and they need a young Dunmer girl to play Barenziah." He looked quizzically at Netta, smiling. "Might you be interested?"

"Sure!" Netta piped up excitedly, her eyes lighting up. "But, I don't really know what it's about..."

"That's alright, we'll get you caught up before the play starts!" the Altmer replied, leading Netta towards a distant stage. He looked back at the others. "The play starts in roughly half an hour, so make sure you don't miss your friend up there!" he explained, before guiding Netta to the stage.

"Good luck, Netta!" Bruno called out happily after the Dunmer. "Knock em' dead, girl!"

"You mind telling me just what the hell the big idea is, Slade?" Nathan asked, not understanding the other man's lie. "Why'd you tell him we were here as actors?"

"It gives us a decent cover for being here, for one thing," Slade replied simply, before looking around the nearby area, at the various people, vendors and attractions. "It'll make it easier to figure out where the Speaker is, without drawing attention to ourselves."

"I guess."

"Hey, wait a second," Bruno began, looking between the others. "I think I may have read that Bareziah thing before."

"What!?" Alderin asked, his eyes bulging with surprise and shock. "You mean you can read!?"

Bruno narrowed his eyes as he looked out after Netta, before turning to the others again. "Not myself, really. My mom would read it to me, but never that part of the story. Said it was too graphic." He idly scratched at the back of his head. "What do you figure she meant by that?"

Slade's expression drooped slightly, before he pursed his lips. "Oh yeah, I forgot about that part," he replied hesitantly, before turning to Nathan. "See, there's a part of the story where Barenziah and this Khajiit..." Even from behind the frames, it was obvious that Slade's expression was distraught; he didn't seem to be able to bring himself to actually say what happened.

Nathan froze for a moment, realizing what it was that Slade was saying by not saying it. "You, you can't be serious!?" the Imperial exclaimed, before looking frantically at Alderin. "In front of all those people!? I mean, it's simulated, right?"

"They're Dunmer, Nathan," the Altmer replied with a matter-of-fact tone, leaning forward slightly. "Is it ever simulated? You need to be a little more realistic here."

"Well that's not gonna happen!" Nathan exclaimed, narrowing his eyes as he turned to the stage. "I'll just have to go over there and stop them! Enough is enough!"

"You can't do that, Nathan," Slade pointed out, shaking his head. "This is our cover, remember? If a young, female Dunmer suddenly decides to drop out of a play for reasons of modesty, people are going to know something's up."

"Wait a minute, modesty? Simulated?" Bruno asked, utterly confused. He turned hopefully to Alderin. "What's going on? I don't get it."

"Well," Alderin began, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "When two Nords have had way too much to drink, and fail to take the proper preventative measures-"

"So what do you suggest we do, then?" Nathan asked, agitation building in his voice. "I don't exactly like the idea of her being up there, in front of everybody, doing...that."

"I'd say the best thing we can do is be mature about this," Slade began, pumping his hands in front of him politically. "And just watch the damn play. Keep our cover up, and make sure that Netta doesn't feel dejected."

"That's your brilliant plan!?" Nathan exclaimed, eyes bulging with horror. "Alderin could come up with a better plan than that!"

"Don't worry, Nathan," Slade said casually, crossing his arms over his chest as he made his way towards the stage in the distance. "Just cover your eyes and I'll let you know when the messy stuff is over."

Nathan, Bruno and the others paused for a moment as they watched Slade walk off. "Man, I've got a bad feeling about this," Nathan grumbled sourly before he and the others chased after Slade.

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Half an Hour Later...
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"And now, ladies and gentlemen, men and mer!" hollered the Altmer with the belled hat atop his head from atop the outdoor stage, arms outstretched above him. "For your viewing pleasure, we now present, The Real Barenziah, Part Four!" A large audience behind Nathan and the others hollered and cheered in reply.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Nathan grumbled miserably, hanging his head between his legs as he sat down near the stage. "I don't know if I can do this..."

"Take it easy, Boss," Bruno reassured him, rubbing his back in a sign of comfort. "It'll be okay, whatever it is they're doing up there. I'm sure Netta will be able to pull off this scene great!"

"That's what I'm afraid of," Nathan groaned, placing his face in his palms.

"I don't see why you're getting so upset about this," Alderin pointed out sceptically, furrowing his brow. "I mean, honestly, what the hell do you care what she does up there? It's not like it affects us."

Nathan shook his head miserably as a voice boomed from behind the stage curtain, and a number of actors, including Netta in a short skirt and a rather revealing white shirt, came on stage. "The young Barenziah, hoping to gain entrance into the Thieve's Guild," boomed the voice as Netta sat down on a bar stool next to a male Khajiit. "Offered to bed a Khajiit named Therris, should he sponsor her! But first, said he, she would have to pass a test!"

"What kind of test?" Netta asked the Khajiit next to her curiously, loud enough so the audience could hear. The audience fell deathly silent as the Khajiit turned to face her, a large smile on his lips.

"Ah, payment first, sweet thing," the Khajiit purred, reaching towards Netta's skirt and leaning towards her.

Nathan covered his eyes, and his head sank low as he looked away from the stage. "I can't watch!" he exclaimed miserably.

"Shut the hell up!" an audience member roared behind him in reply.

Without explanation, however, there was a loud thud from behind the curtain of the stage, and the narrator, or rather a new one, called out. "But little did poor Barenziah know," exclaimed the narrator, his tone one of a mocking sadness. "That she had been targeted for execution...by the Dark Brotherhood."

"Uh oh," Slade growled, leaning forward in his seat. "I don't like this."

"Is this what the problem was?" Bruno asked curiously, looking between the others as Nathan's head perked up again. "Well, this doesn't seem so bad."

Suddenly, a middle aged Dunmer man, with black hair and a flowing black robe rushed onstage, and drew a short steel dagger. The Khajiit next to Netta started to get up, but was quickly dispatched by the assassin. As she attempted to get out of her seat, Netta was quickly grabbed by the assassin from behind, who spun both of them around so they were facing the audience.

"And now, dear Barenziah," the assassin chuckled, slowly bringing the dagger close to Netta's neck. "You shall know the wrath of Sithis."

"Sweet!" exclaimed an audience member. "Improvisation! I love this stuff!" This was followed by a round of cheers and applause from the audience, as the assassin's smirk grew ever wider.

"Dammit," Nathan muttered, reaching for his blade. "I'm going up there!"

"No, wait," Slade argued, holding him back. "Everybody thinks this is part of the act; if you go running up there, the guards will attack you instead of him."

"So what do you suggest, now?" Nathan growled, glaring at Slade. "That we just let Netta die up there!?"

"Not at all," Slade replied with a slight grin. "I've got a plan, but we've gotta move quickly. Follow me." He looked briefly at Bruno and Alderin. "Watch for the signal, alright?" he asked, before heading stealthily behind the stage with Nathan.

"Wait a minute, signal? What signal!?" Alderin hollered, eyes bulging in fear. "Hey, don't leave me alone with him!" he roared, gesturing angrily at Bruno, who seemed utterly lost.

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"Well, my dear," the assassin whispered in Netta's ear with amusemant, as the young Dunmer struggled to free herself. "It looks as though this is your last curtain."

"Oh man, not a play joke," Netta muttered back miserably, still straining to get out of the assassin's grasp. "Just when you think things can't get any worse."

"Jerald! Now!" the assassin whispered towards the direction of the curtains, a gleeful smile on his face. But no response came, and the assassin's smile soon faded. "Jerald, what's taking so long? I said now!"

After a brief moment, there was a response, but it was not either one of the first two narrators, but a third, that sounded an awful like a particular blonde-haired ex-Speaker. "Yes, it did indeed look as though Barenziah's life had come to an end," this new narrator explained, his tone tragic. "But alas! A bold and noble knight, perhaps one sent by the gods themselves, emerged from the shadows, to save the young Barenziah!"

With that, Nathan, clad from neck to toe in bright steel armour, a white mantle flowing from his back and a silver longsword in hand, emerged from shadows of the stage. "You there! Brotherhood fiend!" he exclaimed dramatically. "Unhand the fair Barenziah, or I'll surely cleave you in two!"

Netta's face lit up with a genuine sense of elation, a look of joy spreading across her face. "Oh, Nathan...iel!" she exclaimed, trying her best to cover up their identities. Her face took on a more solemn look, however, as her gaze fell. "I must apologize for what I was about to do," she explained sincerely, looking at the downed Therris, who twitched periodically, still alive. "For had I known what the foul beast had planned with me, I never would have-"

"It matters not, Barenziah," Nathan replied, although his tone had an unmistakable authenticity to it. "All that matters now is that you're returned to me safely!"

"Nathaniel!" the assassin cried out, his eyes bulging with rage, confusion and desperation as he attempted to keep the 'improv' going. "What are you doing here!? Methought you to be slain by some abysmal...thing!"

"Alas not!" Nathan exclaimed, bringing up his longsword. "I come to free Barenziah from your infernal clutches, and not the Night Mother herself shall impede me!"

"Then come, Nathaniel!" the assassin roared, tossing Netta errantly to the ground, but producing a pair of silver shortswords. "Let us test now your mettle!"

Convenient intermission...

awesome chapter, and happy to hear the break helped you. Looking forward for more

That was sheer brilliance, beyond a doubt. Improv battle FTW! I loved it, and for the first time noted the (-) part of the chapter title was repeated in the chapter itself... has that always happened?

No errors at all... and I LOVE the play book you had chosen. Classic brilliance!

*falls from chair*

*gets up*


wow, amazing. simply amazing. loved how bruno was "lost"

Thanks for all the awesome feedback, everyone. I'm really glad you enjoyed the chapter.

I'd like to point out the contributions made to this next chapter by a very special friend of mine...Shakespeare. After all, what kind of theatrical parody would it be without using some of Shakespeare's famous lines? So, without further delay...

"Here's something we hope you'll really like!"

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Chapter 11: Brotherhood Acting Co. (And the three not-so-wise men)

"Alright, time to wrap up this little number," Slade muttered, preparing to narrate the scene that would detail Nathan killing the Speaker onstage. Just as he prepared to call it out, however, he heard a noise behind him, and turned to see the Brotherhood narrator, a brown haired Breton man named Jerald, get up off the ground.

"Damn you, traitor," the Breton growled, picking himself up. "What made you do it? Did you just wake up one morning and decide 'hey, let's take down the Dark Brotherhood today?'"

"Not really. I must've thought about it for a good couple hours before carrying through," Slade replied, reaching for his crossbow. "But that's really neither here nor there. For you, though, it's lights out."

The Breton man sneered slightly, as his hands crackled with bright red light. "I don't think so," Jerald growled, lifting his hand up into the air. At that moment, a Dremora Valkynaz and a Golden Saint Aurmazl materialized on either side of Slade, and immediately lashed out with their respective longswords. Slade barely had enough time to roll out of the way, and was quickly pursued by the Daedra pair.

"Now, where were we?" Jerald asked himself as he approached the back of the stage curtain, Slade too busy to intervene. "Ah, yes." He cleared his throat before calling out so the audience could hear. "The foolish knight, Nathaniel, would soon find himself outnumbered, however, as the Brotherhood had prepared thoroughly for Barenziah's assassination..."

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Nathan's eyes bulged slightly as he heard the Brotherhood narrator call out, and from the audience below, two men in black robes, their faces obscured by their hoods, raced onstage. Like the Speaker, they too sported silver shortswords, and together the trio slowly approached Nathan.

"Dammit all," Nathan grumbled miserably to himself, his palms sweating as he tightly gripped his silver longsword. "Alone and outnumbered. What a pain in the ass."

Netta tried to get up from her spot on the ground, but the Speaker simply turned to her and snarled. "Don't even think of it, sweet cheeks," he growled, before smiling sadistically. "Wouldn't want to give away your boyfriend's cover now, would you? Then even the town guards would figure out that something was going on. So just keep your royal ass planted on that floor, understand?"

Netta was about to protest when Nathan cried out, loud enough to be heard by the crowd. "Fear not, Barenziah!" he yelled, still moving back from the approaching killers. "'Tis only three against one! I've faced more formidable odds before!"

"Methinks you're mistaken, Nathaniel!" Netta replied worriedly, her eyes darting nervously. "Three against one seems a bitter number!"

"You see, Netta," Nathan growled quietly, to avoid blowing the act onstage. "This is one of those times I could use some of your abundant enthusiasm!"

"Oh, right!" Netta whispered, before furrowing her brow, trying to cook something up. "Oh, Nathaniel! Surely, with your noble spirit, you canst vanquish these murderous fiends!"

"Methinks not, Barenziah!" the Speaker hollered triumphantly, smiling. "For, it would take a sheer stroke of luck, nay, a miracle, to save Nathaniel now!"

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With his cue uttered, Jerald prepared to announce Nathan's final demise. But the pained roar of his Valkynaz behind him caused him to hesitate, and turn around to view the spectacle.

Slade angrily slammed his elbow into the Dremora's face, causing the Daedra to recoil backwards in surprise and pain. Then, after sidestepping a swipe from the Golden Saint, the ex-Speaker retrieved his steel crossbow, and, levelling it at the Saint's exposed upper chest, fired point blank. The Aureal cried out in agony as the bolt pierced through skin and flesh.

"Get some real armour, hussy," Slade growled, before dropping his crossbow and open fist punching the stunned Daedra in the stomach. The Saint sprawled backwards, and, with the Dremora still dazed, Slade dashed forward and slammed his clenched fist into the side of Jerald's head like a club. The Breton fell promptly to the floor, and, with his opportunity made, Slade cried out his revision to the current predicament onstage.

"Luckily for our hero, however, he too had allies waiting to aid him. For they were the stalwart and loyal Brutus, and the wise and powerful Alderath!"

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Alderin's eyes shot wide as Slade's voice carried out to the crowd, and Bruno looked over at the Altmer, confused. "Brutus and Alderath...you think he means us?" the Nord asked curiously.

"With my luck?" Alderin asked, his gaze drooping to the ground beneath him. "Probably." As the gold skinned Elf prepared to slowly make his way onto the stage, he let out a yelp of surprise as Bruno grabbed him by the arm and quickly yanked him to Nathan's position.

Nathan smiled happily as Bruno and Alderin took up position on either side of him, countering the Brotherhood reinforcements. "Brutus! Alderath! For a moment, my heart was low, thinking that you may not come!"

Bruno paused for a moment, trying to comprehend the odd speech he was hearing. "Don't worry, uh, bosseth!" he exclaimed, before gripping the handle of his hammer tightly. "For Brutus is always up for a good smashing!"

"Indeed, my good man!" Nathan cried out, as the Brotherhood members nervously prepared for an attack. "Together, we shall make short work of these bastards!" He turned to Alderin, still smiling. "What say you, Alderath!?"

Alderin merely rolled his eyes, his expression one of exasperation. "Tally ho," he muttered without enthusiasm, readying his staff before him, the end flaring a pale blue.

The six actors stood still for a moment, waiting for the next stage direction, an awkward silence settling over the stage as they did so.

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Jerald gave a long, pained groan as his sloppily thrown punch was caught by Slade, and the blonde haired Imperial tightly gripped his fist. Slade was forced to release the man's hand, however, when the Aurmazl and the Valkynaz, having recovered from their disorientation, rushed at him once more.

"Nathaniel and his comrades were able fighters all!" Slade exclaimed while ducking beneath the Daedric blade swipes, and quickly rolling towards his steel crossbow. "Together, the three were surely a force to be reckoned with!" He managed to grab his crossbow, and, while still rolling, placed another bolt in the weapon.

"But the Speaker and his cohorts, trained as they were, were capable assassins!" Jerald roared, retrieving a glass throwing knife as his Daedra closed in on Slade. "Against their combined power, no knight could stand!"

Slade quickly stopped himself mid-roll, propped himself on one knee, and fired his crossbow into the gap between the Valkynaz's greaves and cuirass. "Except, of course, Nathaniel!" he countered quickly, the Dremora crying out in agony as the Saint charge forward with her longsword.

"Nu uh!" Jerald simply called back, bringing back his throwing knife as he neared Slade. The ex-Speaker retrieved his steel dagger, and prepared to combat the Breton and his Daedric accomplices.

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By now, the conflicting stage directions of Slade and Jerald had resulted in a sloppy, hodgepodge melee between the six fighters, each of them fighting at this point for their lives. The audience didn't seem to notice the discrepancy, however, as they cheered and hollered happily, enthralled by the fighting onstage.

Alderin managed to deflect the strike of his respective opponent with his staff, and, while the man recovered from the effort, Alderin thrust his hand forward. "Hocus pocus, jack ass!" the Altmer roared, setting the man's robes ablaze. The man let out a feral howl as he dropped to the ground and rolled frantically, trying to kill the flames, only to be subjected to a series of shock attacks by the still standing Elf.

Meanwhile, Bruno's attacker showed far more agility. The man dodged back and forth, evading Bruno's massive, circular sweeps with his hammer, and managed to lash out with his weapon, causing a shallow cut on the Nord's torso. Bruno paused a moment, looking down at the cut on his chest, and his eyes flared with rage. The Nord let out a blood curdling roar, before successfully striking his opponent in the legs with his weapon, causing the man's balance to be swept out from under him.

As Bruno tightly gripped his hammer, the robed killer looked up at the Nord, his face still hidden behind his hood. "Alas, Brutus, for this is the unkindest smash of all," he cried out, his dramatic last words for the audience that watched.

Bruno arched a single eyebrow in confusion, before shaking it off. "Yeah, whatever," the Nord grumbled, before slamming his hammer straight into the side of the man's head. With a wet crack the robed figure skid across the stage, and into the flaming body of Alderin's would-be attacker.

At the same time, Nathan successfully parried with the Brotherhood Speaker, pushing the assassin back further and further, until finally the Dunmer was forced to the ground, landing on his back. He looked up at Nathan as the Imperial levelled his sword. "Any last words, villain, before I send you to your fate?" he asked, his blade before him.

"As a matter of fact, yes," the Speaker replied, reaching into the pocket of his robe. He pulled out a small handful of powder and, with a quick flick of the wrist, threw it into Nathan's eyes.

"[censored]! Pocket sand!" Nathan cried out, clenching shut his eyes. The Speaker sped past the otherwise disposed Imperial, and, a single shortsword in hand, ran up to Netta, positioning her so she was standing before him, with a blade to her neck.

"Dammit, Nathan!" Netta cried out angrily, abandoning the pretext of the play. At this point, though, the crowd was so drawn in, so captivated by the action, that Akatosh himself could've probably shown up onstage, and they wouldn't have objected.

"This is why you don't go on with dramatic monologues!" Alderin roared, as he, Bruno and Nathan slowly circled around Netta and the Speaker.

"Well it would've been a pretty crappy end if I'd just killed him without a word, wouldn't it!?" Nathan exclaimed, glaring at the Altmer. "It's a little thing called dramatic flair!"

"So is that what all the bad guys are always doing?" Bruno asked the others, cocking his head slightly to the side.

"Everybody shut the hell up!" the Speaker roared, his glance twitching between the remaining trio. "Anybody tries anything funny, and everybody's favourite little wench is scrib feed!"

"Wench?" Netta asked, her eyes narrowing. "Alright, that tears it." The young Dunmer raised a single arm, pointing randomly into the crowd ahead. "Hey look!" she exclaimed excitedly. "Isn't that the Night Mother over there!?"

"What? Where!?" the Speaker cried out, a smile breaking out over his face. "Is my robe on straight? How's my face?" While he searched fruitlessly, however, Netta angrily bit down on the man's arm, causing him to drop his shortsword to the ground as he cried out in pain. Wriggling free of his grasp, Netta reached down and grabbed the shortsword, and before the Speaker had a chance to recover, she plunged it deep into the man's chest.

"This...this is to be my end?" the Speaker asked, clutching at the blade lodged in his chest, as he fell to his knees. He chuckled softly, before looking up to the sky above. "The comedy of it...that to my life I should come to a demise...so bittersweet..."

"What the hell is bittersweet about this?" Alderin asked the dying man, crossing his arms over his chest. "Bittersweet implies something good happened as well, and it didn't. You just got your ass kicked, so you can go ahead and die already." And as if in response to Alderin's suggestion, the Speaker fell to the ground before him, and drew his last breath.

"And that's the end of that," Nathan pointed out casually, sweeping his hands against each other, before giving Netta a curt nod. "Good work, Netta," he commented with a smile, before the Dunmer returned the gesture in kind.

There was an awkward silence, and Nathan and the others turned to look at the audience, who had become deadly silent for the end of the play. Nathan and the others stood there for a moment, at a loss for words, before Bruno abruptly shot his arms quickly out to the sides.

"That's all, folks!" the Nord exclaimed onstage. The crowd promptly burst into applause, cheering for the group, before the quartet made their way backstage, past the curtain dividing the two areas.

There, Slade stood victoriously over Jerald's corpse, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked at the foursome. "Took you four long enough," he pointed out, before heading towards the nearby changing rooms so Netta and Nathan could retrieve their clothing and weapons. "What was the hold up?"

"Showmanship," Nathan replied simply, before glancing over at the others with a grin. "You know how it is."

"I suppose so," Slade replied simply, trudging forward alongside the others. "After all, everybody loves a good show."

"Yeah, there's nothing quite like putting your life on the line for a buncha pompous ingrates, and with no reward whatsoever," Alderin grumbled bitterly, shaking his head. "Showmanship my ass."

"I dunno, buddy," Bruno added in contently, patting the Altmer reassuringly on the shoulder. "I think we did pretty damn well up there. Maybe we got a future in this business!"

"I don't think so, Bruno," Nathan replied, glancing over at the Nord. "I mean, it was fun and all while it lasted, but I think I'm permanently retiring from the acting business."

Bruno seemed to ignore this rebuttal, however, as he extended his hand out before him. "All of Nirn's a stage," he mused.

"No," Alderin merely growled in reply.

"Something's rotten in the state of Morrowind," the Nord continued.

"That may be true, but still, no," Alderin countered, agitation filling his voice.

"To be, or not to b-"

"Shut up you stupid oaf!" Alderin hollered, the Elf's eyes bulging with rage at the Nord's insistence. "Just shut your festering hole!"

"Oh, those two," Netta remarked, smiling innocently as she rolled her eyes. She glanced over at Nathan. "Think they'll ever learn?"

"Hard to say," Nathan replied with a slight shrug. "After all, the course of a true journey never did run smooth."

"Truer words were never spoke," Slade added in with a slight nod.

"Everybody just shut the hell up!" Alderin roared.

Shakespeare, it's universal...

Absolutely beautiful, except for one thing.

"Luckily for our hero, however, he too had allies waiting to aid him. For they were the stalwart and loyal Brutus, and the wise and powerful Alderath!"

That should be two, not too. A common mistake I have seen a lot. Really irks me though.

I loved it much, especially the Slade and Jerald bickering narrative. And I ask again:

When Will They Kiss Already?!

Actually, that's supposed to be too. For, like the Brotherhood assassin, Nathan too had allies waiting to help him. I appreciate your input, however.


Well thanks, I'm really glad you liked it. And as for the kissing...

How the...

Bloody hell! I went dyslexic and switched the words around when I read it! :banghead:

keep going like that. when next is coming out?

I don't know when exactly the next chapter's coming out, but it should be within the next few weeks or so. School related hilarity (or torture) ensues...

Hey guys I have the ass probe for if he does not update.

Here's the next chapter, guys. More of a plot development chapter than anything, really. Hope you all enjoy it.

As always, feedback is mucho appreciato. Compred??

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Chapter 12: Brotherhood Intermission (Plotting o' Baddies)

Deep within the bowels of Old Mournhold, past the main living areas of the members who made the necropolis their base, a middle aged Imperial woman stood, looking at a large metal door entrenched within the rock of the wall she faced. Beyond the door was a massive chamber, where the Dark Brotherhood was secretly conducting a project. The woman's blonde hair dangled to her waist, standing in contrast to her black shirt and pants, as she ran her slender hand along the Daedric runes engraved on the door.

Together, the runes read: "Mother".

"Soon," the Imperial whispered to the door, her tone one of strained patience. "Just a little longer, and the project will be completed. It won't be long now." So captivated by the door was this Imperial, that she didn't notice as a young Dunmer man approached from behind her.

"Listener," the Dunmer announced formally, giving a slight bow of respect. "I assume that the relocation was a success?"

The Imperial woman withdrew her hand from the Daedric runes, before looking to the Dunmer Executioner with a warm smile. "Yes, it was," she replied simply, her voice content. "It's good to have her here with us, rather than sealed away beneath that damned statue in Cyrodiil." The Listener crossed her arms over her chest as she looked curiously at the Dunmer. "Tell me, is there any word on the traitor, Slade, and the interlopers?"

The Dunmer paused a moment, before his vision sank hopelessly to the floor. "I'm...afraid so, Listener," he replied, his tone full of dread. "We've just received reports that they've killed Galan, Jerald and the others. They were killed publically, under the guise that the fight was a play during the Telvanni festival."

The female Imperial's eyes widened slightly in shock and confusion. First Grogath had been killed, and now Galan? She had to know... "Who killed them? Was it the traitor?" she asked, irritation in her voice.

The Dunmer shook his head. "He killed Jerald while he was backstage, but the other four killed Galan and the others. The Imperial, with the Dunmer, the Altmer and the Nord."

The Listener furrowed her brow, unable to understand it. She already knew that the foursome had no exceptional talents, no extraordinary abilities. Nothing special to distinguish them in any way in terms of skill. So then why were they able to kill off her Speakers, one by one? Why was it that they were able to escape every dangerous situation, ones that surely would've killed fighters with superior skill and experience?

Why was it that they, of all people, had been capable of killing Vanion?

The duo stood in silence for a moment, before the Listener unfolded her arms, an idea forming in her mind. "Where are they now?" she asked, curious.

"From what I know, they're on their way from Sadrith Mora, and are planning on coming here," the Dunmer replied simply. "Shall we begin preparing our defences?"

"Yes, we should," the Imperial replied, before smiling slightly. "But, I also have something else in mind." She began down one of the long, stone hallways, her feet gracefully hitting the floor beneath her as the Dunmer followed closely behind. "If they plan to come here, then they will need to pass through Vivec City. In which case, I plan to have somebody waiting for them there."

"An ambush?" the Dunmer asked, before smiling and nodding in approval. "Very good. I'll have a strike team assembled to attack them there."

"No, that won't do," the woman replied, shaking her head. "We've been far too willing to underestimate those four, and I won't have any more of our brethren killed because of that sloppiness," she explained, her blonde hair flowing behind her as she moved through the passages of the Brotherhood base. "We will send three fighters. Two Speakers, and one of our...latest warriors."

The Dunmer behind her hesitated for a moment. "I beg your forgiveness, Listener, but, isn't that overkill?" he asked, almost horrified by the proposal. "I mean, two Speakers for common trash like them is one thing, but the super soldiers..."

The Imperial spun around suddenly, irritation lining her features. "What would you have me do?" she growled. "Already, two of our Speakers are dead by their hands, their underlings utterly defeated by these four. Surely, they've proven themselves stronger than common trash."

The Dunmer took an involuntary step back, fear lining his face. "O-of course, Listener," he whimpered, nodding in approval. "F-forgive me."

The Imperial's features softened slightly, and she shook her head. "Don't misunderstand," she began simply. "The Brotherhood is very much like a family. We are all like brothers and sisters, this group." She narrowed her eyes. "And so when somebody betrays that family, or begins attacking it, we must respond as if it were our own lives at risk."

The Dunmer nodded more readily now. "Yes, Listener. I understand." He cocked his head to the side slightly. "But, are any of the soldiers ready?"

"Yes, I believe so," she replied, heading through a nearby door. Inside the large room, multiple individuals of various races laid atop stone slabs, assembled like corpses. But these were no corpses; they breathed, and their pulses were steady. Each of them was naked, save a large, black metal collar on each of their necks that pulsed steadily with the power of enchantment. If one were to look closely, one could also see the dullness of their eyes, the blankness of their expressions.

The Listener smiled silently to herself as she surveyed another of the Brotherhood's endeavours. She conceded that sometimes, where an assassin proved insufficient, a warrior was sometimes needed. But, she never did trust the warrior types, especially the powerful ones, which is what they needed in many cases. But, with specially enchanted control collars, even the most powerful of fighters was forced to serve at the Brotherhood's beck and call.

Well, most fighters, anyway.

Slowly, the Imperial woman walked towards a slender, youthful female form, atop one of the stone slabs. Like her, it was an Imperial woman, but the fighter was much younger, and was slightly shorter, a more average height for their species.

"You have a very special task ahead of you, my dear," the Listener whispered to the young woman. The enthralled Imperial sported dark red hair, though relatively short, just reaching down her neck.

"She doesn't look that impressive, I must say," the Dunmer remarked, scanning the Imperial's naked form. "Rather pretty, I will say, but wouldn't we be better suited with a Redguard or an Orc?"

The Listener smiled as she gently ran a hand through the Imperial's dark red hair. "In reality, she is the most powerful of the fighters here," she explained, a smile on her lips. "She possesses some...rather unique abilities, and prior to her capture by the Brotherhood forces in Cyrodiil, she was apparently a well known mercenary. No, I believe she will do rather nicely."

"It is as you say, Listener," the Dunmer replied, bowing slightly. "Which two Speakers are to accompany her?"

The blonde haired woman paused a moment, considering the question. "Send Eldar and Fobo," she replied, chuckling slightly. "I believe those two should prove an interesting challenge for our friends, don't you?"

The Dunmer gave a sadistic smile as he nodded. "I'll inform them immediately," he replied, before turning about and darting out of the chamber.

The Listener took one last look into the dull, deep blue eyes of their subject, quite an impressive fighter to be sure, before turning towards a nearby Brotherhood mage, a middle aged Breton woman. "See that this one is properly equipped, and then send her to meet with the expeditionary team heading for Vivec City."

The mage nodded in understanding, and with that, the Listener moved back out into the corridor, thinking. The team would have to move quickly to intercept Slade and his new friends in time, but if they did, then surely these three could deal with the interlopers?

Don't be so sure. They're stronger than you think. Especially their leader...the red headed one.

The woman nodded in acknowledgement. Of course, she was right. After all, if the reports about the foursome were correct, then they'd faced difficult opponents in the past, and easily persevered. Maybe they even had what it took to kill their strongest fighters?

But the Listener shook these thoughts aside. Soon, it wouldn't matter how strong they were. If they could just buy enough time to complete the project, then the quartet would be easily defeated. Surely, there was nobody in Tamriel, or Nirn, for that matter, who could stand against what they hoped to create?

Well, nobody living, anyways.

The woman chuckled to herself as she headed back towards the chamber with the metal door. Soon, the interlopers would learn to fear the Dark Brotherhood.

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Nathan paused on his way to the Wolverine Hall Mage's Guild, falling behind the others as he shuddered slightly. It only took a brief moment for the others to notice, and turn around to face him.

"What the hell's your problem?" Alderin asked, arching a single eyebrow in curiosity. "You step in Guar crap or something?"

"I dunno," Nathan replied, unsure of what it had been, exactly. "I just, well, got this really weird feeling all the sudden."

Bruno folded his arms over his chest, and nodded solemnly. "Ah, 'tis the foul winds," he remarked. "Somethin' bad is brewing up for sure."

"That's you, you slack jawed lummox," Alderin countered quickly, glaring at the Nord. "That stink could choke a Goblin."

"You sure you're okay, Nathan?" Netta asked, concern lining the young Dunmer's face as she placed a hand on the Imperial's shoulder.

Nathan waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, before looking over at Slade. "You said we were heading for Mournhold after that last one, didn't you?" he asked.

"Yeah, that's right," Slade replied, nodding in confirmation. "But, there's not any direct transport from here. We'll need to head to Vivec City to get to Mournhold. There are some transporters who'll take us to the city."

"And then we'll just waltz in, kill off an organization that's existed for hundreds of years, and walk back out. Simple," Alderin pointed out cynically. "Oh wait, where's the part where we meet up with the magical unicorns, and fly around on dragons?"

"Keep a lid on it," Netta shot back, giving the Altmer a slight grin. "After all, we've been through some pretty bad stuff before. Why should this be any different?"

"The girl's right," Slade pointed out, nodding. "Let's move out."

"Alright, then," Nathan replied, determined. "To Vivec!"

When this battle station is fully operational...

Is that super soldier a cameo of another character, because I swear she seems familiar.

Brilliant chapter though!

Thanks FC4. Any other comments before I get working on Chapter 13?

Lovely writing as always, have my suspicions to who this soldier is, but going to wait patiently (or rather impatiently) for chapter 13

Oletolle, I tried to send you a PM but your inbox is full and wouldn't take it. Could you please delete some of the old mail so I can send my PM, please?

Sorry for the off-topicness, Nova, but I had no other choice. Plus, I figured you and I are good enough pc-pals now that I didn't think you'd care.

Thanks, Ole, glad you liked it. Interested to know what your suspicions are, but I'll wait myself until after Chapter 13 is up.

And Reds, that's alright. Just remember that one day, 'I'll make you an offer, you cannot refuse...'

:P Ok, I'll keep that in mind...

Well, here's Chapter 13. Hope you guys like.

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Chapter 13: Face Off (When I said 'bring the pain' I didn't mean bring the pain...)

"What a load of crap!" Alderin hollered bitterly as he and the others made their way along one of the upper walkways circling Vivec City's Redoran Canton. "Those lousy ass mages manage to botch a simple teleportation, and all we have to show for our trouble is a 'sorry, our bad'!? I mean holy hell, they didn't even give us a discount!"

Netta gave the Altmer a concerned look as the quintet slowly moved along, rain angrily pummelling the entire city from the dark, almost black storm clouds above. "Oh, it wasn't that bad, Alderin," she pointed out, her voice managing to be clearly audible despite the sounds of the weather. "So, we got stuck in Oblivion during teleportation. It couldn't have lasted more than five, maybe ten minutes."

Bruno scratched his head quizzically as the group continued forward. "What I don't get is what those Daedra were doing when we showed up," he explained, before looking over at Nathan. "Why was that Golden Saint asking that Dremora to 'hit' her? Didn't look like they were doing any hitting to me," the Nord pointed out.

Nathan gave a slight sigh as he furrowed his brow. "Tell you what, Bruno. Assuming we live through this ordeal, I'll explain it to you, alright?" the Imperial offered, looking up at the Nord.

"And I'll help!" Netta cried out excitedly, her face lighting up. "After all, a good education is very important!" She glanced over at Nathan and gave a slight wink.

"Education? Is that what you Dunmer are calling it now?" Alderin asked, rolling his eyes. "Because last time I checked, it was called being a dirty, two-bit ska-"

"If it's all the same to you four, I'd prefer to just drop it," Slade piped in, before giving a slight sigh. "Frankly, I find the whole business, distasteful."

Nathan looked at the ex-Speaker, and cocked his head to the side slightly. "Distasteful? You used to kill people for a living."

"Dammit all," Alderin groaned, his gaze drifting up towards the rainclouds above. "How could this day possibly get any worse?"

"I'd say that's our cue, Fobo," came a deep, masculine voice from behind the group. Collectively, the five turned around to see an extremely muscular Nord emerge from behind the corner of the canton walkway, glaring at them. The man wore simple black pants, and a muscle shirt that adhered to his toned torso. He ran a single hand over his shortly cropped blonde hair as he grabbed a long, rather nasty looking combat knife from his belt.

Just as Nathan began to reach for his weapon, a drawn out, high pitched laugh came from the other side of the walkway, and the group turned to face yet another figure. This one, obviously a human male, of some sort, wore baggy, bright yellow clothing, with oversized red shoes. His face was painted a ghastly white, and he sported a large, rainbow coloured wig, along with a fake red nose. He juggled a pair of torches between his two hands as he let out another long, psychotic laugh.

"What...the hell..." Alderin muttered under his breath, a comment to which Nathan wordlessly shrugged, unsure of how else to reply.

"Eldar," Slade commented to the Nord, pulling out his steel dagger. "Long time no see." He glanced back at the other figure. "So, they paired you up with the clown, huh?" The Imperial gave a slight chuckle as he shook his head. "How sad."

"Well, if it isn't everybody's favourite traitor," the Nord commented, smiling smugly before facing Nathan and the others. "And those must be the four that have been causing so much trouble." He arched a single eyebrow as he glanced at Netta. "Are you ready for the death that you've earned with your troublemaking, Elf?"

Netta furrowed her brow slightly as she looked at the Nord. "If I say no, does that mean you'll leave?" she asked, readying her silver spear.

"Not a chance!" the clown on the other end of the walkway screamed, moving slowly towards the quartet as he juggled the torches. "Fobo, the Sad Clown, never shies away from a contract!"

Bruno glanced sceptically at the clown. "Sad clown?" he asked. "You don't look that sad to me."

"That's because the four of you are right here," Fobo explained, before the torches in his hands flared with twice the brilliance they had before. "And killing people, makes me HAPPY!"

"Nuts," Alderin grumbled, tightly grasping his staff. "There goes the neighbourhood..."

"Enough!" Eldar roared from his end of the walkway. "I'll kill the traitor! Fobo, you take out those four!" The muscular Nord lunged towards Slade, the duo readying their respective blades.

"Get ready for a surprise!" the maniac clown screamed, throwing his two torches at Nathan and the others. The quartet barely managed to dodge the flaming projectiles as the psychotic killer charged at them, his oversized shoes flopping ahead of him.

Nathan held his claymore out in front of him, ready for an attack from the clown. But instead, a large, red flower on the Speaker's shirt unexpectedly launched a stream of green goo, which hit the Imperial square in the eye. He let out a growl of pain as the clown lurched forward, and caught the entire foursome with a sweeping, horizontal kick.

"You and your new friends are dead, Slade," Eldar taunted as he and Slade expertly parried with one another, their blades continually clashing together. "Did you honestly think that together, the five of you could take down the Dark Brotherhood?"

Slade smiled slightly as his blade braced against Eldar's, and the two of them held their position for a moment. "You put too much faith in the Listener, Eldar," the Imperial countered, before punching the Nord in the jaw with his off hand. The Speaker fumbled a moment, before Slade straight legged him in the chest, and sent him sprawling back.

Meanwhile, Nathan and the others continued to dodge shots of goo and psychotic kicks from Fobo, as they readied to counter attack. As the clown unsuccessfully kicked up at Netta, Bruno brought his hammer to bear and slammed it forcefully into the clown's groin, causing his painted white face to go wide with surprise.

"Right in the crown jewels!" the clown cried out, his tone more astonished than in pain. As he hesitated a moment, Alderin levelled his staff, and the tip flared a deep purple for a moment. Fobo was sent careening back, sliding on his back along the surface of the Redoran walkway.

"Damn, do I hate clowns," Alderin mumbled, letting the end of his staff point back towards the ground. He glanced over at Nathan and shrugged. "I mean, more than I used to." The Imperial gave a slight nod of agreement.

"Dammit!" Eldar cried out, getting back to his feet. "Seems like these ones aren't complete incompetents after all."

Fobo got to his feet on the other side of the walkway, and smiled sadistically over at his Nordic comrade. "Maybe we should use the new weapon?" he suggested coyly.

The Nord gave a brief nod, before looking up to the top of the canton. "Hey! Get your ass down here!" he cried out, glaring at some unseen individual.

"New weapon?" Bruno asked, furrowing his brow as a shrouded figure slowly made its way from the centre of the structure's roof to the outer edge. "That doesn't sound good."

All eyes were on the new figure as it slowly pierced the veil the rain had cast over it. A young Imperial woman stood at the outer edge of the canton's ceiling, and looked down at Nathan and his group. Her hair was a hauntingly familiar shade of dark red, and her blue eyes seemed to be glossed over as the black collar on her neck pulsed regularly. She wore well polished steel armour, and brandished a silver longsword in her right hand.

Nathan's eyes bulged wide as he saw the figure, and he almost dropped his claymore to the ground. "No...it can't be," he muttered softly, his face a visible conduit to the shock he was experiencing. "Kayla?"

"Nathan?" Netta asked, her tone concerned as she looked between the two Imperials. "Do you know her?"

"You call that a weapon?" Alderin asked sceptically as the young woman slowly lifted her silver longsword. "I didn't know you guys were so desperate. She doesn't look like she could-"

Alderin was quickly cut off as the Imperial quickly cut down with her blade, in midair. As she did so, a streak of shock magic shaped identically to the slash she'd made formed across the chest of Slade, Nathan, Alderin, Netta and Bruno, and each of them was thrown back from the force behind the attack.

"What the hell was that!?" Alderin screeched, he and the others struggling to get back up. As they fought to regain their composure, Eldar lunged from the side and pierced Slade's shoulder with his knife, causing the Imperial to cry out in pain as the Nord kept him pinned to the ground.

"That's the sound of you dying!" Fobo exclaimed as he rushed in from the side, and angrily slammed his foot into the side of Nathan's head. The Imperial lost his grip on his claymore, and the clown bent down and began punching the dazed red head in the face, keeping him from recovering.

"Boss!" Bruno exclaimed, as he and the two Elves got to their feet, ready to help Nathan. But before they had a chance, they were struck by another round of magic slashes, this time streaks of fire lancing across their chests. The trio stumbled backwards as the female Imperial closed in on them, silver longsword glowing a faint blue as she approached.

"This doesn't seem good," Netta pointed out as the three backed into the railing of the canton's walkway, unable to aid either Slade or Nathan.

"Prepare for your deaths, morons," Eldar taunted, keeping Slade's weapon arm pinned to the ground as he twisted his knife further into the ex-Speaker's chest. "Your little journey...ends here."

Definition of 'over the barrel'...

Is it Nathan's Sister or something?

Good chapter, but now I worry about their fates...

And I hate clowns now, too...

Good. The clowns must be made unto ash.

Anyway, I'm going to start work on Chapter 14 today. Anybody have any suggestions? Comments?