First of all, I feel inclined to apologize to everyone for not following through on my last two stories. That was quite lame of me.

Anyway, here's a brand new fanfiction that I've been thinking about writing for awhile now, a sequel to http://www.gamesas.com/bgsforums/index.php?showtopic=709941&hl=Nathan (If you didn't read the first one, it's not a big deal. I'm fairly certain this one will stand quite well on its own. But feel free to read it if you like.)

Anyway, I'll stop yammering and let you get to the story (assuming you actually read all this). If you feel so persuaded (and I hope you do), please leave feedback when you're done.

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Chapter 1: Renewal Hello Darkness, my old friend...

"Well, I'm afraid that the nearest town is Dagon Fel, a fair distance to the east, stranger," the Dunmer barkeep explained casually, his single eye focusing on the quartet as he cleaned out a large glass mug. "That is, assuming you ain't fancy on swimming all the way to Khuul, of course," he added with a bit of a grin, before setting the mug down on the table. "Now, what will you and your friends have?"

Nathan ran a single hand through his messy, dark red hair, his green eyes falling nervously on the Dunmer. "Well, see, the thing about that ? and you're gonna laugh when you hear this - is that we don't really have any money, per say," the Imperial explained anxiously. In honesty, one could see it was the truth from the condition of the group's apparel; they were entirely without weapons, and their clothes resembled tattered rags more than something somebody would actually wear. The Imperial gave a nervous smile.

"Well, in that case," the Dunmer began, glaring at the group. "The talk is free." The barkeep straightened his back, a slight pop resulting from the action. "But the booze ain't," he continued, picking up the mug. And with that, he headed for the other side of the counter, towards another group of patrons.

"[censored]," Nathan cursed bitterly, before turning around and heading for a small nearby table. "I could've really gone for a brandy right about now." The large underground tavern, named 'Ye Olde Redaynia: Bar and Grill', was poorly illuminated, a few judiciously placed torches and candles providing the only light by which to see. The dark wood panelling and adjoining rooms only accentuated the rural feel of the place, and gave the Imperial a sense that he was in a massive log cabin. He sat down at the table, and the others in his group joined him.

"Well, isn't that just swell," Alderin whined in the seat opposite Nathan's, scowling. The Altmer's bright blonde mane rested on the shoulders of his tattered, dark blue robe, giving him the distinctive look of a mage. Then again, looks could be deceiving... "Looks like Captain Ahab here took us right into the middle of no-man's-land," he growled, gesturing at the man next to him before glared up at the ceiling, shaking his head bitterly. "Navigation skills of a brick, I tell you."

"Hey, I thought I did pretty damn well," Bruno countered, crossing his arms firmly over his chest. The massive, brutish Nord leaned back in his seat, filthy strands of grimy blonde hair dangling at his shoulders. "After all, that crappy boat was taking on water, and this was the closest place to land." He looked out into space methodically as he reached into his jacked for a bottle of mead. "Damn thing is probably halfway to the bottom of the Sea of Hosts by now," he surmised.

"It's Ghosts, you country fried lummox," Alderin cursed, glaring at the Nord angrily. "It's Sea of Ghosts. How can you not know that? Weren't you a captain of some ill-fated ship!?"

Netta watched the two men bicker for a moment, a slight grin of amusemant playing on her features. Like the rest of the group, the Dunmer was quite youthful, with a few small clusters of freckles on her cheeks. Her delicate face was lined by shoulder length brown hair, the tips of her pointed ears barely peeking out from its silky surface. She turned from the Nord and Altmer to Nathan, who leaned forward on the table, exasperated. "What's wrong, Nathan?" she asked, her voice genuinely concerned. "You alright?"

"It's just hard to believe that after all we went through," Nathan began, shaking his head. "After all the battles, making our way to Solstheim, and finally beating the bad guy, we ended up with jack [censored]." The Imperial let out a lazy sigh. "What a colossal waste of time."

"C'mon, Nathan!" Netta replied, reaching over and patting the young man tenderly on the shoulder. "It's not all bad, after all. You just need to look at the bright side!"

Bruno nodded adamantly in agreement, sitting to the Imperial's right. "She's got a point, boss. You just need to-" The Nord stopped midsentence, before looking quizzically to Netta. "Wait, there's a bright side to all this?"

"Of course!" Netta maintained, her face lighting up and her voice chipper. "Nathan, just think of all the new things you saw in Morrowind!" she argued.

"Netta, I was nearly mauled to death by a damn Cliffracer," the Imperial grumbled. "I could've been just as easily mauled by a wolf back home, and then I probably wouldn't have caught the blight!"

"Well, how about all the interesting experiences we've had?" the Dunmer asked smugly, looking between the others in the group. "You can't deny that we've had some good times."

"You mean like when Beauchamp's crappy airship exploded, nearly consuming us in a fiery maelstrom of magicka and shrapnel?" Bruno asked, vividly recalling the memory.

Netta paused for a moment. "Alright, granted. But what about all the neat people we've met on this adventure!?" she cried out, insistent.

"Oh yeah, real neat," Alderin growled angrily. "Psychopathic villagers, deranged cultists, inept ship captains and a certain claymore wielding head case with a tower fetish." The Altmer shook his head disapprovingly. "Neat, huh?"

Netta simply rolled her eyes, leaning back in her seat. "If the three of you are only going to focus on the negatives, then I really can't help you," she explained.

Nathan gave a slight sigh of exasperation in response, before feeling a slight tap on his shoulder. He looked up ? well, not quite up, exactly ? to see a Bosmer, with slicked black hair, and a rather irritated expression on his face, standing behind him. "You stinkin' mendeho!" the Wood Elf cried out, his eyes narrowing as a few of his kin formed up behind him. "This is our table, cabrone."

"Uh, right..." Nathan simply replied, sceptical. However, he wasn't exactly in the mood to get into an argument with a bunch of Bosmer. "We'll just be going, then," he explained, beginning to get up out of his seat.

"Hold it, Nathan," Alderin interjected, before standing up from his own seat, and glaring at the Bosmer. "Listen up, Wood Elf," Alderin snarled, disgust and contempt in his voice. "We were sitting here first, and we'll leave when we're good and ready!" He tilted his head to the side. "We clear, cabrone?"

Nathan glanced anxiously at the Altmer, eyes narrowing slightly. "Alderin...simmer down..." he advised cautiously.

"Who the hell you think you talkin' to man!?" the Bosmer hollered angrily, quickly unsheathing a small glass dagger. "You either give us the table, or we cut you up, ass hole!"

"Alderin," Netta began, getting up from her seat and looking at the Altmer. "Maybe we should just give them the-"

Alderin pointed an enraged finger at the Bosmer, eyes bulging with malice. "What are ya gonna do? Call your pet mudcrab, ya tree huggin' anarchist?" The High Elf slammed his fists on the table. "You ain't got the balls to do [censored]!"

The remainder of the Bosmer group quickly unsheathed their own daggers, and the leader 's eyes exploded with rage. "Oh, that does it! You dead, cabrone! You dead!" He looked over at one of the adjoining rooms, and called out in its direction. "Hey Fargoth! Get your ass out here, man!"

A solitary Bosmer shot out from the room, his eyes deranged. The Elf looked quite old, his skin pale, wrinkled and leathery. His eyes were frantic, as he turned to Nathan and the others, hunched over and moving about in a twitchy manner. "Did...did they take the precious?" he asked, curious.

The lead Bosmer simply rolled his eyes, annoyed. "Sure, Fargoth, they stole your crappy ass ring," he falsely assured, waving his hand dismissively. "Now just get to it, will ya?"

The psychotic Bosmer looked to Nathan's group, his eyes morphing from frantic to hateful. "They ? took ? my ? PRECIOUS!!!" he screamed, bearing his teeth. He dashed desperately at them, hands extended before him.

Bruno, always the calm one of the group, quickly bounded up from his seat, and lifted the sturdy wooded chair over his head. As the deranged Bosmer lunged at the group, the massive Nord hurled the furniture at him, catching him square in the face. The Wood Elf went sprawling back, crashing to the ground with a loud thud before skidding across the floor. The establishment's remaining patrons looked over in curiosity, watching the scene with distinctive interest.

"Tactical withdrawal, men!" Nathan bellered at his comrades, shoving one of the nearby Bosmer to the ground. He quickly darted for the stairs that would lead them topside, with the others closely following.

The group of Bosmer furiously reorganized, and filed up the stairs in pursuit of their newfound opponents. The one eyed Dunmer barkeep looked up the stairs as they ran, shaking his fist angrily. "You're paying for that, you [censored]!" he roared, his eye bulging.

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The Sheogorad region of Vvardenfell happened to be quite foggy that day; a thick blanket of dark gray mist enveloped the area, preventing the group from seeing anything more than a few feet ahead of them. The sky shared a similar motif, the sun blocked out by heavy storm clouds, the threat of rain nearly upon them.

"I think we lost em'," Bruno reported, pausing his retreat for a moment. The others stopped their movement temporarily as the Nord looked carefully behind them, attempting to see through the fog. "At least, I think we lost em'..."

"Dammit Alderin," Nathan growled, turning to the Altmer and jabbing an irritated finger into his chest. "Why is it that whenever you're around, seemingly ordinary people turn homicidal and try to kill us?"

The Altmer regarded the Imperial with annoyance, before pointing an accusing finger of his own. "Nathan, they were Bosmer," the Altmer explained rather matter-of-factly. "Primitive, half-brained Neanderthals, who claim to be Elves, of one sort or another. They're basically the lowest rating sentient species on Nirn, right below Orcs and right above Nords. If we start letting them have their way, then who knows where it'll lead. There'll be no stopping them!" Alderin narrowed his eyes purposely. "And that's not something I want to see happen."

Nathan stared at the Altmer in surprise, shocked at the overwhelming prejudice and stupidity of his argument. Well, maybe not shocked, but nevertheless taken off guard. Netta, meanwhile, looked around behind him, apparently searching for some indication of their present whereabouts. "Um, guys?" she began, concerned. "Does anybody know where we are?"

Nathan and Alderin quickly realized the nature of their predicament, and began in a frantic search as well. Due to the sheer thickness of the fog, however, they were unable to see anything outside of the rest of their group. "Alright, don't panic," Nathan began, trying to keep the others calm. "All we need to do is go east..." He looked up at the sky, only to have the clouds deny sight of the sun.

"Uh oh," Bruno muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. "I think we might have a problem..."

"Dammit all!" Alderin roared, stamping his feet. "I should've known something like this would happen!" He looked pleadingly at Nathan, hands outstretched. "Now what the hell are we gonna do?"

"I believe that I may have a suggestion..." a voice muttered from the cover of the fog. Nathan and the others quickly turned to see a figure, shrouded in a black robe, slowly emerge out of the fog, silently walking towards them. He stopped a few feet from them, and pulled back his hood, revealing the face of a young man with loose brown hair, his skin pale. "It is a rather splendid idea, involving the death of four rather irritating pests..." he added with a slight smile.

"Yeah, irritating people get on my nerves," Bruno replied, nodding his head for a moment. He paused abruptly, however, and arched an eyebrow in curiosity. "Wait, you're talking about us, aren't you?" he asked the figure, unsure. The man slapped his palm against his face, slowly dragging it down his features in frustration.

"Alright, I feel inclined to ask, here," Nathan began, rolling his eyes. "Who the hell are you, and what exactly do you want? Because if you're just another random crapper jack nobody here to pull off some half-baked stunt designed to kill us, we really have better things to do."

The stranger shook his head in disbelief, chuckling. "You arrogant fools," he began, before a grin formed on his face. "I, am Estevan Lachance, of the Dark Brotherhood," he explained. "Illegitimate grandson of the great Lucien Lachance!" He produced a small ebony dagger from his robe, placing it in his right hand, and began his approach anew.

Alderin's eyes bulged in horror as he and the others slowly backed away, unarmed and at quite a disadvantage. "The...Dark Brotherhood?" he asked, his tone wavering with fear. "As in the Dark Brotherhood? The one that goes around killing people?"

"No, Alderin," Nathan growled sarcastically, his tone relatively calm, given the situation. "I'm sure he's part of the other Dark Brotherhood. You know, the one that goes around selling cookies!"

"Damn, I could go for some cookies right now," Netta remarked, rubbing her stomach as she backed away with the others. "I'm starving."

"Shut the [censored] up!" Estevan roared in anger and disbelief. "Dammit, now I see why the Night Mother has ordered your destruction," he growled, raising his dagger. "And I am more than happy to oblige her."


On the road again...again.

LOL! Thank you sooo much for bringing us this! You'd better stick with this one: I love this fanfic already too much for you to cruelly take it away from me.

and by the way; :rofl: ROFL. :rofl:

I particularly liked this bit, because it is the most amazing Fargoth joke I have ever heard, and I have no idea why I haven't seen it done before:

"Did...did they take the precious?"

"Sure, Fargoth, they stole your crappy ass ring"

Pure gold.

LOL, love it. Fargoth... my Precious...

But the question still remains. N&N?

Yay : D Just YAY XD!!!!

Oh and I love the Fargoth Joke, simply priceless!! xD

That story is awesome. It had me laughing out loud more then a few times, something I don't do to often.

:rofl: Priceless!
I really liked it and hope you continue with it.

:rofl:

I'll be surely following this... Reading the other one won't do me harm, too.

Thanks for all the fantastic comments, people. It's good to see Nathan and friends can still pull off the funny. I'm also quite pleased that the Fargoth joke went over so well.

Anyway, I am in fact working on chapter two, so don't worry about that. Just not sure when it'll be done.

Well, I managed to get the second chapter written. Hope you all like it as much as the first.

As always, I appreciate feedback. And gold, if you feel so inclined.

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Chapter 2: Guar in the Mist Ode to joy...

"Hold up, you slick [censored] bastard!" Nathan roared, his hands clenching as he glared at the assassin. "Killing us would be a really, really bad idea. See, we've got some friends in some pretty high up places," he explained, searching for anything he could use to keep them alive. "Maybe you've heard of Divayth Fyr? Or Olothan? Or a certain Daedric Prince of Madness?" Nathan's eyes narrowed slightly. "You don't even wanna [censored] with those Mac Daddies."

Estevan chuckled under his breath, bemused. "Please. How uninformed do you think I am?" he asked, shaking his head. "Sheogorath is powerless in this realm, and young Alderin's father is quite ignorant as to the true strength of the Brotherhood." The Brotherhood lackey tightly grasped his dagger, raising it in front of him. "No, killing the four of you will not be a problem."

"Dammit," Nathan cursed sourly, gritting his teeth anxiously. "So much for that plan." He looked hopefully to the others. "Anybody else got an idea?"

Netta looked back at the Imperial, her eyes unafraid. "Not unless Alderin crapping himself counts as a plan," she replied, shaking her head. "And frankly, that's never worked for us in the past."

Alderin glared at the Dunmer, his eyes bulging with frantic desperation. "Well of course I'm crapping myself, you stupid Dunmer floozy!" he screamed hysterically, his hands working nervously before him. "He's gonna kill us!"

"Just calm down Alderin!" Nathan growled at the Elf, his brow furrowed. "We're gonna be fine. All we need to do is stay calm, think this through intelligently, and-"

Nathan was cut off by a deep, rumbling roar that seemed to come from all around him. When he looked back, he realized that had in fact been Bruno, the massive Nord charging angrily and with surprising speed at Estevan. The comparatively puny man tried to use his dagger to ward off the Nord, but instead was struck in the face by a muscular forearm, and sent sprawling back on the ground.

Nathan saw their opportunity, and wasn't about to let it pass them by. "Alderin!" he roared to the Elf, without even bothering to look around. "Use magic! Now!"

Still frantic, and caught off guard by the sudden change of fortune of the group, Alderin rushed to prepare a spell, any spell, that could be used against their opponent. Not exactly aware of which effect he was casting, Alderin thrust his hands out before him, and a small sphere of blue light raced towards Estevan, impacting square in the-

"Right in the balls!" the assassin screamed in pain, writhing on the ground as his groin was hit by the frost spell. Bruno looked down at the man as he howled in anguish, dropping his dagger to the ground next to him.

"All right!" Nathan exclaimed, looking over at Netta with a determined look. The young Dunmer noted his expression, and nodded in understanding. Together, the Imperial and the Dark Elf raced to Estevan's position, cutting through the dense fog. Once they were in range, the two of them as if in unison, raised their feet up behind them, took aim, and kicked the would-be killer, directly in his wounded area. There was a sharp glass-like crack as their assault hit the deranged Lachance.

Bruno arched a suspicious eyebrow at the sound, confused. "That didn't sound quite right," he pointed out, looking down at the man. Estevan was perfectly still, not even breathing, his face caught in a perpetual silent scream.

"Alderin, what the hell did you do?" Nathan asked as he and Netta each hopped on one foot, the ones they had used suspended a few centimetres from the ground in pain. Alderin quickly approached the others from his position, his face curious.

"No kidding!" Netta cried out, shaking her head as she reached down to her wounded foot. "I mean, I've heard of 'balls of steel', but this is too much!"

Alderin looked down at the seemingly dead Lachance, intrigued. "That frost spell must have frozen his...uh, you know, solid," he surmised, crossing his arms over his chest. "And then, given the force that you and Netta kicked him with, it must have shatt-"

"Stop!" Nathan howled desperately, his face contorted in disgust. "That is just too damn horrific to even think about!"

Bruno shook his head dismally as he looked down at the defeated man. "I know that he was trying to kill us and all, but poor bastard," he remarked, shifting his legs uncomfortably.

The quartet's rather...unique, conversation was cut short as the sound of something approaching from the fog hit their ears. Determined not to be caught off guard again, Nathan and Bruno readied their fists as Alderin prepared to cast spells, if necessary. Netta quickly salvaged Estevan's dagger, and held it at the ready, as a silhouette, one that could not possibly be humanoid, approached.

A large, armoured Guar, wearing a thick black vest over a chainmail mesh emerged from the thick gray veil, and looked curiously between the foursome. A large steel claymore, a dagger, rations and water could be seen secured to the vest, available to the Guar should it need them. Nathan and the others were quick to drop their guard at the sight of the creature.

"It's just a damn Guar," Alderin growled, lowering his hands as he looked over at Nathan. "And here I was, perfectly ready to get my groove on!"

Nathan irritably rolled his eyes as Netta slowly approached the animal, hand outstretched. "Well hey there, little guy," she said affectionately, patting the beast on the head as it looked directly at her. "Where'd you come from?"

The Guar tilted its head to the side. "Well, if you must know," it began, its voice masculine. "I came to help the four of you fight of the Dark Brotherhood assassin." He looked over at the defeated corpse. "But, I see you did just fine without me."

Netta nervously jumped back as the others looked quizzically at the Guar, unsure. Nathan took a slight step forward, squinting one eye. "Rollie? That you?" he asked.

"No, no I'm not Rollie," the Guar explained simply, shaking its head slightly. "Although, I can understand why you think I look like him."

Alderin arched a solitary eyebrow. "Because you're both Guars, and you all look exactly the same?" he inquired.

"No," the Guar shot back smugly. "Because I'm Rollie's older brother, Rockie." He looked back at Nathan. "It's the face: it's a family thing."

"Uh, right," Nathan responded, almost entirely unconvinced. "Where the hell did you come from, anyway? Who sent you?"

The Guar looked around, seemingly slightly nervous. "Well, I think that maybe we should do this someplace else," he explained. "I wouldn't be surprised if more Brotherhood agents were in the area. If you'll just follow me back to base, I'll answer all your questions."

Nathan pursed his lips slightly. As much as the sight of a big talking Guar disturbed him, the idea of more Brotherhood assassins raining down on them was more unappealing. "Alright then, Rockie," he replied, nodding. "Let's move out, shall we?" The Guar nodded approvingly, before turning around and heading the direction he'd come from. The quartet cautiously followed, quite unsure of where they were going.

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"We have got to almost be there by now," Alderin groaned miserably, as he and the others slogged along behind their Guar guide, utterly dependant on him for direction. "I think my shoes are filling with my own blood!"

"As opposed to somebody else's blood?" Netta asked, looking over at the Altmer with interest. He simply grit his teeth angrily in response.

"Shove a sock in it, Alderin," Nathan grumbled in reply, scowling at the Altmer. "You haven't been walking any longer than the rest of us, and you don't here any of us complaining about how [censored] long it's taking!" His eyes narrowed intently on the Elf. "So just shut the hell up!"

"Please, my friends, stay calm," Rockie insisted ahead of them, confidently. "We are nearly there, I assure you."

Bruno casually straightened his back, revealing his rather intimidating stature, before addressing the others. "Hey, you guys have any idea why that guy back there attacked us?" the Nord asked his fellows, curious.

"Beats the crap outta me," Nathan admitted with a slight shrug, unsure of what the Brotherhood's problem with them was. He looked ahead at Rockie. "Hey, you have any ideas?" he asked.

The Guar didn't stop, or even slow its pace. It merely turned its head around, so one of its eyes was on the quartet. "I'm afraid that you've attracted the attention of the Brotherhood, comrades," he explained to them, his tone sombre. "They've taken notice of your abilities, and now they want to see you dead."

"Well, isn't that just great," Alderin growled pessimistically, shaking his head. "Not only was our little trip a bust, but now we've got a professional assassin's guild crawling up our collective ass? That just beats all!"

"Hold it a second," Netta demanded, stopping on the path they were on. Rockie and the others did the same, and turned to face her as she articulated herself. "How'd they find out about us in the first place?" she asked, quite unsure. "And second, what do they care? We never did anything to them."

Rockie's gaze hit the ground beneath them. "I'm afraid that you don't understand what the Dark Brotherhood has become," he surmised. "Fifty years ago, it was a simple guild of outlaws. Now, though, they've become a major power throughout Tamriel," he explained. "Their numbers have bulged into the thousands, and their bases span the continent. There are covert operatives everywhere; in other guilds, in the government, and some just acting like regular people. They're not just interested in murder anymore."

"Well, that explains how," Nathan replied, nodding his head in understanding. "But there's still the question of why the hell they give a crap? I mean, who are we? Just a poorly organized, misguided group of people," he explained.

"A group with a reputation," Rockie pointed out. "People have been noticing what you four have been up to. Fighting the Mythic Dawn, meeting with well known wizards, and apparently blowing up a ship belonging to some very influential pirates." The Guar let out what could be considered a chuckle. "And then, of course, there's the fact that you killed Vanion."

"How the hell do you know about that?" Bruno asked, scratching his head in confusion. "Didn't that just happen?"

"Both my group and the Dark Brotherhood have contacts in the Imperial forces," Rockie explained. "We received word as soon as Ocato's little fleet hit Solstheim, and so did the Brotherhood, in all likelihood." He looked up at the foursome. "And that's why they're trying to kill you now. They figure you're too big a threat to just let you meander about, so they'd rather see you all dead."

"Great," Nathan grumbled sourly. Maybe Alderin was right: somebody was always trying to kill them. "So, where do you come in, then?" he asked.

Rockie shook his head. "Look, maybe we should wait for a bit," he replied, beginning on his original heading anew. "I should really let the General explain all this. You'll be safe when we get to the base, and you can eat, rest a bit," he took in a deep breath through his nose, and scowled slightly. "Um, maybe take a bath. And then, I'll let General Baron explain the rest."

"Fair enough," Nathan replied, nodding his head in approval. The sound of food, sleep and a bath all sounded good to him, and then maybe they could figure out just what the hell they were going to do about their minor murderer problem.

It wasn't long after their conversation that something emerged out of the fog; a low lying, stone fortification. It was built with precision, dedication; this was no random cave. Rockie walked up to a large metal door, and banged on it twice with his tail. "Hey, open up!" he cried out. "It's me, Rockie!"

"Yeah yeah, keep your pants on!" an irritated male voice called out. Nathan looked around for where the voice was coming from, and noticed a small green crystal next to the door that strobed with each word the other voice said. "The door's unlocked," it grumbled, as a distinct metal clack came from the door. "Did you find them?"

"Yeah," Rockie replied, looking behind him at the others. 'I found em'." He turned back to the door and forced it open with his head, revealing a long, narrow corridor behind it. It was roughly square shaped, uniform all the way down, with support braces every few feet. Nathan and the others cautiously walked inside.

"Don't worry, guys," Rockie assured them, motioning them in with his tail. "Nothing to be scared of." He headed down the long hallway, the others in tow. "We'll get you four something to eat, and then you can wash up."

"Good," Bruno replied happily, his hand going for his stomach. "A man can't live off mead alone, sadly." He grinned widely, and looked down at Nathan. "Plus, I'm a little late for my annual bath!"


Smells like victory...

Annual bath.. .oh god!

Loved it, though you put the wrong word a few times. 'Of' instead of 'off' (that seems to be a really common mistake on these boards) and another misplaced word I can't remember.

Poor chap, had his ballz frozen and smashed.... :shakehead:

Yeah, I suppose I'll just have to edit more thoroughly next time to avoid that kind of thing.

Yeah, well, he had it coming. Lousy [censored].

Any other comments or feedback?

Here's chapter 3, y'all. As always, feedback is much appreciated.
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Chapter 3: Preparing for success (Because that always works, right?)

Nathan casually leaned back in the large steel tub, letting the hot sudsy water wash over him. He let out a content, peaceful sigh, and slowly closed his eyes. The large, white tiled room he and the others found themselves in was shaped like a large rectangle, with tubs identical to the ones each of them occupying filed along each side of the chamber. Despite its capacity, however, the room was remarkably quiet; Rockie had managed to get the room cleared out for the four of them to use privately.

"Boy, sometimes I forget just how good this feels," Bruno commented in the tub opposite Nathan's, his tone quite pleased. "I might just have to do this more often. Maybe even quarter-annually!"

"Maybe then you'd only cause people to gag within a five foot radius," Alderin growled angrily next to him. "And Netta will you please do that sitting down!? My nightmares are bad enough these days without being subjected to that!"

Nathan's eyes instinctively bulged open, and he gazed next to him to see Netta, completely in the nvde, elegantly washing her arms as she stood upright in her respective basin. Alderin frantically averted his eyes while Bruno continued on normally; Nathan found himself staring intently at the Dunmer's rather pleasing figure.

"What the hell's your problem, Alderin?" Netta asked, her tone slightly irritated. "I don't know what your family taught you when you were growing up, but I've learned not to be ashamed of my body."

"And yet another piece of the depraved puzzle is set into place," Alderin growled, shielding his eyes with his hands. "Maybe your parents should have taught you some moral decency while they were teaching you how to be a-"

"Doesn't it bother you at all to have the three of us seeing you naked?" Nathan asked, surprisingly calmly, while cutting the Altmer off. "I mean, I know you're rather frisky and all, but this is something different altogether."

The Dunmer shrugged nonchalantly, seeming not to care. "Not really," she replied simply. "Besides, I've seen the three of you naked, so I think it's only fair that-"

"Hold it," Bruno interrupted, arching a single eyebrow. "You've seen us naked? When?"

The young Dunmer giggled softly to herself, smiling madly the whole time. "Please, you three. We've been travelling together how long now? Made camp how many times?" She rolled her eyes, her demeanour slightly mocking. "And you're all such heavy sleepers..."

"Sleepers?" Nathan asked, allowing the response to register in his mind for a moment. "Hold it! You mean that...while we were sleeping, you...you..."

"Yup!" she replied happily, almost proudly. "You betcha!"

"You filthy little tramp!" Alderin roared, jumping to his feet in his tub, thus queuing Nathan and Bruno's turn to hurriedly avert their respective gazes. "My Altmer dignity, tarnished! And by a Dunmer, no less!" He frantically grabbed at his blonde mane with his hands. "How will I ever live down this humiliation!?"

It was at that moment that the large metal double doors leading into the room slowly creaked open, and through the slight haze of steam that filled the room, Nathan could make out a humanoid form moving towards them. "Sorry to barge in like this," the form began, its tone respectful. "But time is of the essence here, and we can't afford to-" The figure came close enough so that Nathan identified it as a Redguard male, middle-aged and wearing a dark blue fabric uniform. His hair was black, neatly combed, with a few greys along the hairline. As the man came close enough to clearly see, he looked between Alderin and Netta, still standing in their basins, naked, with a confused look on his face. "Um, am I interrupting something here?" he asked.

"Yes," Nathan admitted, rubbing his hand miserably down his face. "Not that it's necessarily a bad thing, though." He looked up at the man again. "I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name," he admitted.

"That's alright, son," the Redguard replied as he blindly tossed a towel in Alderin's general direction. "The name's General Ulysses Baron, and I'm the commander of this base. I'm here to explain the situation regarding your little Brotherhood problem."

"While the four of us are in here, taking baths, completely nvde?" Alderin asked disbelievingly, as he wrapped the towel around his midsection. "What are you, insane or something?"

"Not at all!" the General cried out excitedly in response. "Why, my family has a tradition of holding important military briefings in bathhouses like this. Why, my grandfather once came up with a brilliant offensive strategy while he and his staff were all bathing, and it single handedly won him the Hammerfell Civil War!"

Bruno furrowed his brow, deep in thought. "Um, am I crazy, or has Hammerfell never had a civil war?" the Nord asked curiously.

"That's what they'd like you to think," Baron pointed out, nodding. "And that's what made the offensive so damn effective!"

"Look, you're already here, so let's just cut all the crazy crap and get right down to it, shall we?" Nathan proposed, glaring at the General. "Just what the hell is going on, anyway?"

"Alright, down to business," Baron replied, nodding. "Not too many people know this, but the Brotherhood has gotten alot stronger since the Oblivion Crisis," the Redguard explained, his gaze slowly creeping towards Netta's cleavage. "Over the years, they've accumulated enough men, weapons and supplies so that if they really wanted to, they could give the Legion a real run for their money."

"Great," Netta growled, crossing her arms over her chest. "Mind if I ask why they haven't done so yet?"

The General seemed to curse silently as Netta hid her cleavage, and looked back to Nathan. "Well, we've been receiving reports over the last year that indicate the Brotherhood's working on building something. We figure it's some kind of weapon that'll ensure that they can defeat the Legion, and they've been hunting down anybody that they think might be able to stop them," he explained. "And after all that you four have been up to lately, they probably figure that their best bet is to get you out of the way."

"Which means they're gonna try to kill us, right?" Alderin asked, his tone curious yet also condescending. "That's usually what that entails, isn't it? People getting gruesomely murdered?"

"Usually," Baron admitted, shrugging slightly. "But, there have been a few isolated incidents where the targets of their attacks just disappear, and we never find out what actually happens to them."

"Swell," Nathan grumbled, shaking his head. "So, where do we come in, then?"

"Simple," Baron replied, smiling rather innocently. "The four of you are going to destroy the Dark Brotherhood."

There was an awkward silence in the room as the quartet watched the General intently, their gazes showing disbelief. "No, seriously," Alderin countered, staring at the man. "What's the plan?"

"I'm serious!" Baron insisted, looking between each of the members of the foursome, paying special attention to Netta and her slender figure. "I believe that if the four of you can take out some of the Brotherhood's key Speakers, and their Listener, that their leadership will effectively be crippled, and the organization will break apart into weaker, manageable splinter cells." He flashed a slight grin. "Which means that we'll be able to destroy whatever it is they've been working on, as well."

"Forget it!" Alderin roared angrily, before anybody else had a chance to respond. "I'm not risking my ass to help you kill the Dark Brotherhood! No way, pal!"

"That's a real shame," Baron replied casually, mockingly examining his hands. "Because they're gonna try to kill you, regardless of if you try to kill them. Yup, that's a real shame."

Nathan irritably grabbed the bridge of his nose, shaking his head bitterly. "Fine, you've made your point," he grumbled sourly. "We'll do it."

"Excellent!" Baron exclaimed enthusiastically, standing up suddenly. "There's some clothing for you just outside the doors I came in through. Once you're done in here, get ready, and we can get you four equipped, and send you off on your way!" The Redguard nodded once more in approval, before heading back outside.

"Well, we're officially screwed," Alderin growled miserably. "A guild of assassins, hell bent on killing us? It's all over, people!"

"C'mon, Alderin!" Netta exclaimed energetically. "He obviously thinks that we can do it! We just need to have a little faith!"

"The man was obviously insane!" Alderin countered, scowling at the Dunmer. "I bet he thinks that we could take on the Numidium, too!"

"Shut up, Alderin," Nathan scolded irritably. "No matter how bad things seem now-"

___________________________________

"Sir, check this out," a young man wearing a jet black robe and hood announced to another, kneeling over a body in the thick mist. A half dozen more robed figures headed towards the body, and stopped in surprise as they recognized him as Estevan Lachance.

"What happened to him?" the leader asked, looking at the corpse's horrified death face. "I've never seen somebody's face locked up like that before."

"It's...it's his...lower area, sir," replied the man who found the corpse, obviously shaken. "They've...I mean they're..." The man looked away in disgust as he pulled down Estevan's trousers. The other Brotherhood operatives took an involuntary step back in horror.

"By Sithis..." one of them muttered, clutching his stomach as he turned around. "I think I'm gonna be sick..."

Another of them ripped off his hood and threw it to the ground, revealing the face of an angry young Breton beneath. "And they call us monsters!" he roared angrily. "Bastards!"

"Keep it together, men," the leader growled, looking to the two who had momentarily lost their cool. He looked back to the one who had found the body. "How long has he been dead?" he asked, his tone calm and detached.

"Not long, sir," the young man replied, looking at the body. "No more than a couple of hours, I'd say."

"Then they can't have gone far," the leader growled, preparing his crossbow. "Get ready men. Only those four could have done this, and we're gonna find them. Understand?"

"Yes sir!" the group replied obediently as one, preparing their own steel crossbows.

"Move out."


It can always be worse...

...

...

:o! I love it! I just read Chapters 2 and 3, and they were hilarious! My god, Netta's having a bit of a bad streak, even for her... you know, first shattering someone's *coughs* and then saying she was peeping on the men while they were sleeping.

Gotta enjoy it when the bad guys are horrified by the goodies.

More please.

Gotta love military officers like this one.

Both Chapter 2 and 3 were pure comedy gold. Can't wait for the next one...

Oh.... My... God....

This is NOT what I had expected, m'lad. Not what I had expected. Why do I get the feeling a woman like Netta did not just 'peek' at them in their sleep?

Very good chapter.

Sorry for the long wait. I was visiting relatives for over a week, and so I didn't really get a chance to work on my story. But this chapter is plenty long to make up for it. Here's chapter 4: as always, feedback is swell.

_____________________________________________________________________

Chapter 4: Contact Tango Friends in high places...

As the dull red sun sombrely glared on the Sheogorad region of Vvardenfell from just above the horizon, the dull groans of mudcrabs and the high pitched wails of Cliffracers echoed through the foliage and ruined Daedric structures that marred the landscape. The sky was quickly morphing from a dark orange to a light red, and the waters gently lapped at the shores of the many islands dominating the region. Meanwhile, Nathan and friends, with their expedition well underway, slowly trudged east through the deserted waste, foolishly believing themselves alone.

"You know, I think Tiber Septim had the right idea not invading Morrowind," Alderin casually pointed out, glancing at the various trama roots that erupted out of the ground around them. On his back, the sapphire-blue gem atop his newly acquired staff glowed faintly, entrenched by intertwining wooden tendrils. "I mean, would you look at this dump? Every square metre of this hellhole province is worse than the last." He glanced over at Nathan, his expression curious. "Honestly, would you really wanna bother fighting anybody over this?"

"Hey!" Netta piped in irritably, her face set in anger. She sported a long, smooth silver spear on her back, the shaft of the weapon rising slightly above the height of her head. "This is my home province!" she exclaimed, jabbing her thumb into her chest. "And I'll be damned if I'm gonna let you say anything bad about it!" She looked around, nonchalantly taking in their surroundings; a few errant streaks of sunlight filtered through the landscape, the silhouettes of foul flying pests circling in the distance against the red sky. "Besides, it's really not all that bad, relatively speaking."

"Relative to what? The Deadlands?" Alderin queried, his brow upraised in aggravation. "I don't think any retard with half a brain would willingly live in this crap."

Bruno turned away from the Orcish warhammer he had been examining, held firmly in his hands. He replaced the weapon on his back, and took a thoughtful look around, occasionally pausing on the various ruins in the distance. "I dunno...I kinda like it," the Nord admitted, shrugging slightly.

Alderin looked ahead blankly, his lips pursing. "I stand corrected," he replied mockingly. "Needless to say, I'd rather be dead than stuck here for any lengthy period of time."

Nathan looked between the gaps in the foliage and rocks, paying special notice to the slowly moving red and blue lights far in the distance. He flexed his hands anxiously as the dim sunlight faintly caught on the brass of the massive Dwemer claymore he'd received from Baron and his boys. "Well, Alderin, if you keep on yammering out here, I'm sure there's more than enough Daedra wandering around to make sure you won't be staying long." He gave a quick glance over to his Altmer ally, a single eyebrow raised in scepticism. "So shove a sock in it, will ya?"

When the others glanced around and also noticed the wandering lights in the distance, the distinct sound of complaints, insults and rebuttals was quickly squelched, once again replaced by the sounds of nearby animals and the ever-present waves. Bruno and Nathan both scanned the nearby area warily, while Alderin frantically looked about in all directions, his motions twitchy. Subconsciously, Netta took a few cautious steps towards Nathan, leaning close to him.

"Yeesh, what I wouldn't give to see a few other people around here..." the young Elf groaned miserably.

______________________________________________________

"I don't know why we got stuck tracking down these four," one of the half-dozen Brotherhood lackeys growled sourly, as the entire group made their way through the Sheogorad region, in pursuit of their targets. "Hell, all those Speakers in the Council are constantly bragging about how much they like murdering people. Let 'em prove it!" He looked over to one of his fellows. "I say we wait until they figure out what's happened, and let them track down these [censored]s."

"Yeah," growled another of the lackeys. "It'd sure as hell save us alot of grief."

"Stow it, guys," a young Breton instructed the duo, his teeth grated in anger. "You're both part of the Brotherhood, so start acting like it. 'If you're not sleeping, and you're not murdering, you're not trying hard enough'. You know the slogan!" He turned slyly to their leader, whose features were still shrouded by his clothing. "Besides, we got a Speaker right here. Ain't that right, sir?"

The Speaker didn't turn to face the Breton from inside his hood. He simply kept walking, kept hunting, a steel crossbow held in his right hand. "Just keep looking," he ordered, his tone without emotion. The others in the group glanced timidly at each other before quickly resuming their work, scanning the landscape.

Several minutes passed without significance, the group's efforts proving fruitless. However, one of the younger members of the group soon perked up, his expression excited. "I see 'em!" he exclaimed, pointing just south-east of their position, bobbing up and down. "I see 'em!"

The brown-nosing Breton from before ran next to him, and carefully examined the area the younger hunter indicated. "An Imperial, a Nord, an Altmer and a Dunmer," he growled happily, hefting his crossbow before patting the young one on the back. "That's them alright. Good work, boy. Now let's go get the bastards!"

There was a silent agreement to the plan just before the group took off, quickly but quietly through the foliage, their weapons ready, their targets in sight. "We've got those sons-a-Daedric prosttutes now!" one of the hunters exclaimed before darting off.

The Speaker stayed behind for a moment, his gaze carefully following the quartet in the distance. "Indeed," he muttered to himself, before taking off with a speed unmatched by any under his command.

____________________________________________________________

"And that's just one of many reasons why Elves are clearly superior to Humans," Alderin explained in a low voice, attempting as best he could to avoid any unwanted attention. The Altmer crossed his arms over his chest and nodded smugly in approval.

Nathan simply responded with a smug grin of his own, glancing at Alderin. "And yet we control the Empire," he replied, shrugging in a clearly self-assured fashion. "How 'bout that."

"He's got ya there, Alderin," Netta pointed out, smiling mischievously at the annoyed Altmer. The golden-skinned Elf merely turned and glared at the Dunmer, his expression unchanging.

Bruno, however, stopped walking for a moment and looked around the immediate area with a concerned look on his face. "Did you guys hear something just now?" the massive Nord asked, curious.

Nathan scanned the area as well, while Alderin and Netta prepared to reach for their weapons. There didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary, however, and Nathan turned to his Nordic comrade. "I don't hear any-"

Nathan's faulty observation was quickly cut off as a man wearing a black robe, a Dark Brotherhood robe, burst forth from the foliage behind Bruno, a crossbow already aimed at the Nord. "Hold it, tough guy!" he barked, clasping his weapon tightly. "Not one move!"

Despite the comparatively puny man's warning, Bruno began to reach for the massive hammer on his back, determined to fight this new opponent. His gesture proved to be in vain, however; there was more rustling as five more figures, all wearing robes and carrying crossbows, emerged from cover and surrounded Nathan and the others in a loose circular formation. Nathan, Netta and Alderin each had one crossbow apiece trained on them, while one more shifted his aim constantly, with the final assailant aiming his weapon at Bruno's exposed back.

They were trapped.

The man training his weapon on Nathan, a rather angry looking Breton, grinned sadistically as a seventh figure, obscured by his clothing, emerged from the shadows. "You're in for it now, you miserable curs," the Breton threatened as the seventh individual took up a position between him and another of the Brotherhood attackers.

"Aw, crap," Nathan muttered under his breath, looking around. These Brotherhood apple-polishers had taken the four of them completely by surprise; not only did they have the quartet outnumbered and flanked, but not one of the four had their weapon drawn. The Imperial let out a sharp sigh of exasperation, his mind racing to figure out a way out of this mess.

The Breton aiming the crossbow at his head, however, clearly had different plans. The man's eyes narrowed and his grin widened as he tilted his face slightly downward, giving him a nightmarish appearance. "It's over," he explained smugly.

"Yes," replied the seventh figure, levelling his crossbow in front of his obscured face. The weapon was trained steadily on Nathan's forehead, completely unwavering. "It is."

Nathan gulped anxiously.

Completely without warning, the seventh figure, presumably their leader, turned to his side with incredible speed, and aimed his crossbow at the head of the young Breton. Without hesitation he fired, sending bits of blood and bone flying as the sharpened bolt forced its way through the skull. He quickly grabbed the crossbow from the hand of the now dead Breton and swivelled around, firing into the chest of the surprised subordinate to his other side.

The remaining four Brotherhood lackeys, originally taken by surprise, soon caught on, and turned their weapons on their former leader. The man moved with uncanny speed, however; he dashed towards one of the other men, his robe flowing behind him, and wrapped his arm around the man's neck. There was a sharp snap as he twisted the man's head violently to the side, and just as quickly used the corpse as a shield as the other three fired their crossbows.

A trio of bolts slammed into the body as the former Brotherhood leader rushed forward with it, withdrawing a dagger from the corpse's belt. Once within range of another of the attackers, he forced the blade into the man's head; up through the neck and into the man's brain. There was a twitching of limbs as the man's body fell to the ground, and the Speaker quickly released his meatshield, allowing the second corpse to fall as well. He turned to look at the remaining two men.

The furthest of the pair was intelligent enough to ready his dagger, its metallic surface gleaming in the ever diminishing light. The closest, though, idiotically attempted to reload his crossbow, fumbling clumsily with the bolt as he frantically rushed to ready his weapon. The Speaker dashed forward, arm outstretched, and slammed his fist into the man's throat, a sickening crunch coming from the point of impact. The victim's eyes bulged as he grabbed at his neck, his windpipe hopelessly crushed. The man fell to his knees, and with one swift chop to the neck from the Speaker's fist, he fell dead to the ground, his neck broken.

The last standing lackey rushed the Speaker with his blade in hand, his eyes full of rage. The hooded leader easily sidestepped the attack, however, and stepped forward, slamming his elbow into the back of his attacker's head with a dull crack as he passed by. The subordinate fell clumsily to the ground, dazed, losing his grip on his dagger in his confusion. The lackey managed to roll over onto his back, and watched with anger in his eyes as the Speaker slowly turned around to face the downed man.

"You bastard," the man growled from the ground, a look of betrayal in his face. "We trusted you."

The Speaker seemed to pause for a moment, before drawing his own dagger from his belt. "Yes," he replied simply, his voice devoid of remorse, or any other detectable emotion. "You did." Without further hesitation, the Speaker dashed forward, slashing his weapon at the downed man's throat. Blood gushed from the wound as the sharpened blade cut through the man's artery and windpipe, before emerging from the other side. The doomed victim frantically gasped for air for but a few seconds, before falling back onto the ground, dead. With the six Brotherhood hunters dead, the Speaker straightened his posture, and turned to Nathan and the others, remaining where he was, eerily still.

There was an unmistakable silence as Nathan and the others stared at this unidentified man, who had just killed six Brotherhood assassins single-handedly. The Imperial's eyes were wide with shock and amazement, and Alderin's jaw hung agape in surprise. Netta glanced nervously from side to side before slowly shuffling behind Nathan.

"But can you do that every day?" Bruno asked the hooded man with a challenging tone, pointing an accusing finger as he arched a suspicious eyebrow. Alderin cast a frightened glare at the Nord, his hands quivering with fear.

The Speaker reached up to his hood, and casually threw back the garment. Revealed was the face of a pale Imperial man, his face hard and angular. The man had a full head of short, dark blonde hair which was slicked back. He wore a pair of rimless, solid black glasses with square-shaped lenses, from which behind Nathan could feel the man's eyes probing him. He'd seen the odd eyepieces several times over the last few years; supposedly some Altmer librarian with bad eyesight had invented them awhile back. But most of the people who used them were the academic type...not the 'relentless killing machine' type.

The man slowly approached Nathan and the others, his face refusing to show a trace of emotion as his long strides brought him ever closer. Behind him, Nathan could hear Alderin quietly pleading with some unseen force.

The Speaker stopped about two steps away from Nathan, his lips a straight line across his face. It wasn't until he was this close that Nathan realized just how tall the guy was; almost as tall as a Nord. He looked between Bruno, Alderin, Netta, and then finally turned his attention back to Nathan. The man gave a slight huff of approval, before extending his hand out in front of him. Nathan nearly jumped from the gesture.

"Slade Ellington, former Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood," the man explained, his tone bordering on being hospitable. His straight lips barely curved as he gave a slight half-smile, and his left eyebrow arched over the edge of his glasses. "I've been waiting some time to meet you."

Nathan's facial features twitched as he cautiously took the man's hand. "That's...nice, I guess..." the Imperial replied, uncertain. Something about this man made him incredibly nervous...something besides his recent exhibition. Inside his chest, Nathan's heart was ramming against his ribcage as he struggled to keep himself calm.

"We have much to discuss, you and I," Slade explained to Nathan, tilting his head slightly to the right. "Namely, about how I'm going to help you destroy the Brotherhood."

Alderin collapsed forward onto the ground, passed out.


Just don't point that thing at me...

Whoo! Go Academic nerds! Guy with glasses whoops ass!

Very nice... But why didn't Netta get daggers instead of a spear?

Absolutely hysterical! That was quite a refreshing read, thank you for sharing with us! I love your conversations, and Netta is a gem- but in a slightly dark way, of course

Thanks, allshallfade, I appreciate that. I find it interesting that the majority of comments that focus on characters tend to focus on Netta, though...

Maybe its an indication of what Elderscrolls fans find interesting.

Well, Bruno makes me think of Goresong, Nathan is just the Average Joe of the group, Alderin is the wussy mage who has EVERYTHING go wrong for him.

Netta is just the hilarious perverted wise-cracker. For some reason she seems to have the most character of all of them. Alot of your jokes recently have focused on her as well, you know.

Well I spent most of my time laughing. A very excellent read and the characters interactions with each other are fantastic. :goodjob:

Gj darknova i love it!
a worthy successor as of this far

This story is absolutely brilliant! You've put in a nice dose of humor which we don't see everyday in Elder Scrolls fanfiction, and you manage to keep things professional. Great job!

Thanks for the excellent comments everyone. It's great to know that people enjoy the story.

I'm not sure when I'll get the next chapter up, but I'll try to do it within the next week or so.