Prologue.

I wake up in my cell. By the gods it's cold in here, the flaming torches hanging in their sconces providing little warmth and the threadbare blanket I wrap myself in providing even less. Never get locked up in Bruma, isn't that the saying amongst thieves? Perhaps it is. I can't remember any more. The guard tells me that it's been weeks since I was dragged down here, I don't know whether he's telling me the truth or not. I haven't seen the sun since I was locked away, so I have no idea how many days and nights have passed. I tried keeping track of how often the men guarding me swapped shifts, but I lost count. The cold in these cells drains me of almost all my energy. Often since my incarceration have I found myself drifting into a frozen slumber before waking with a start minutes or perhaps hours later.

The guards barely speak to me as they slide me meager platters of food beneath my cell door. The gruel provides little sustenance and the hunger constantly competes with the loneliness, both trying to be my closest and most attentive companion. I have only had one actual visitor during my stay in the dungeons. I awoke one... Morning? To find Narina standing over me as I lay on my straw mattress on the cold stone floor. As swiftly as I could I clambered to my feet and tried to plead with her. To convince her that I was no longer the man who had wronged her. She was unconvinced however, her hand flashing out and leaving it's burning signature across my cheek. She tried to live up to the cold reputation she had amongst her men, but the hurt in her eyes as she struck me betrayed her true feelings. For a moment I wished to be the man I was before. A man who took the hurt and betrayal of any and all people to simply be part of his day to day work, uncaringly taking it all in his stride. The regret I felt for driving her to the lengths she had gone to to find me almost threatened to consume me at that moment. She was unmoved by my apologies, slapping my face again and again as she called me all the worst things she could think of, until tired from her exertion she once more left me alone in my cell.

She hasn't returned since, not even once. She simply left me to rot beneath her castle. At least that had been my belief. I was wrong. One of the guards had taken a great deal of joy in telling me that his lady had not forgotten me, far from it. In fact, so he informed me, she intends to hang me in the morning. Once I would have been horrified at my fate, plotting, scheming my escape. Or perhaps pacing my cell, terrified beyond panic as I awaited the men who would escort me to the gallows. However my cell is far to small to pace in, measuring only seven strides by three and besides, it is no less than I deserve. So I stretch out as best I can on the icy floor, resigned to my fate. At least once it's over I'll never have to feel the cold again. I put my hands behind my head and wait.

Suddenly I can hear something, and not the usual sound of gossip as the guards change shift. This sounds like the jailer is arguing with someone. For a moment I dismiss it. Perhaps the loneliness has finally started to affect my sanity. But... No it can't be. The sound of the guard's voice has gotten louder, he's definitely angry with someone. Whoever the someone is, they are enraged too, bellowing back in an oddly familiar voice. I can't make out the words of the someone, but I can understand the jailer now. He is denying whoever he is speaking to entrance to he room. "I have already told you," He bellows "Nobody is allowed inside. If you want to see him then wait at the gallows like ev..." His words are cut off with a shrill cry of fear and the sound of splintering wood. I freeze in terror for a moment until a familiar female voice drifts through to me.

"Bloody hells Crummock did you have to cave his head in?"

"Sorry Astrid." Another voice replies in an unmistakable bass rumble. "I only meant to knock him out. I always forget that you humans have such squishy heads."

"Never mind, at least you opened the door as well. Though I'm sure I could have gotten the keys instead."

"You've got his keys."

I hear a sigh, a common enough sound from anyone trying to have a conversation with Crummock. "I mean I could have gotten his keys before you smashed his head through the door."

"Well we're in now. Ah here he is." The light in my cell is suddenly blocked out and I can barely make out the green face as it grins through the bars at me. "Come on boss, lets get you out of here and cleaned up." His face contorts in shame for a moment. "Sorry it took us so long to find you." Crummock shakes his head. "This is no way to treat the chosen of the divines, Astrid unlock it."


Wait... Perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself. My tale doesn't start in this frozen cell. Perhaps I should go back and start from the beginning...

Here'sthe first proper chapter guys. Hope you enjoy. I'd appreciate any feedback and thoughts on it.

Chapter one.

My name is Leonidas Ostorius, though I prefer to go by the name Leo. I am an Imperial born in mid-year some twenty six years ago under the sign of the steed. I never really held much belief in the gods. I was quite happy to leave them to their business for as long as they left me to mine. I don't really know why I'm sharing these details with you. Perhaps I believe subconsciously that the details of my birth and beliefs will bear some relevance as my tale continues. Or perhaps I am merely stalling for time before I begin telling my tale. I will leave this for you to decide as I continue. So, I was born beneath the sign of the steed and like many others I do exhibit certain traits associated with the constellation. Often impatient and always on the move, though sometimes not fast enough.

I suppose that without going back to the very beginning, my story starts some months ago in the coastal town of Anvil and unlike most stories it starts with the hero, for I do view myself as the hero of this tale, going for a piss. I still believe that simple act saved my life. I had booked myself into a room at The Count's Arms, the most expensive inn in the town. I had sold all of the items I had procured before my flight south from Bruma, the last going to a collector in Kvatch and I was in the mood for the lavish treatment I would get in such an upper class establishment. I had been enjoying a mid-day drink in the bar, trying to ignore the unsettling talk of the murders in the chapel. The wine I was drinking was one of the Surillie brothers' finest vintages and I had already put away half a bottle when I felt the call of nature. Not wanting to return to my room to locate the chamberpot I simply slipped out of the front door and made my way around to the rear of the building.

While I was in the middle of relieving myself I heard an unfamiliar voice utter an annoyingly familiar phrase. "Please sir. I'm only asking for a single coin." The voice belonged to a balding man who appeared to be an Imperial like myself. Despite our shared heritage I was in no mood to share. My money may have been ill gotten, but it was mine all the same.

"Sorry friend." I replied, patting my pockets with one hand as I spoke, while returning parts of my anatomy to my pants with the other. "Don't have a singal coin to give."

"Are you sure?" The beggar persisted, holding his hands out as he pursued me. I fled, making excuses as I retreated back towards the bar. He wasn't to be deterred however, even going so far as to follow me into the building. The Redguard barman, a man by the name of Wilbur, intercepted him as he continued to follow me. "Damn it Olvus." He shouted in the resigned tones of one who had gone over the same thing before. "How many times have I told you about pestering my clients?"

"A single coin." Olvus cried out in protest as he was pulled back towards the doorway. "He can afford it." He suddenly bellowed, thrusting an angry finger towards me. "I know he has a spare coin. You are taking food from my mouth, you thief."

I continued to retreat, making my way up the short flight of stairs to the private suites and stepped through the door. I turned to face my quarters and that is when I saw him. The dark figure was obviously a Khajiit, I could tell that instantly. The furry tail poking through the rear stitching of his leather trousers was a dead giveaway. He was crouched low outside my door and I froze and watched in silence as he silently picked the lock and slipped inside. Moving as quietly as I possibly could I walked across the landing and slipped my key into the lock on the outside of the door. I wasn't quiet enough however, from inside the room I heard several rapid footsteps before the door handle began to turn. In a panic I gabbed the handle and pulled the door towards me, stopping whoever was inside from opening it once more. "Who the hell are you?" I demanded as I struggled to maintain my grip on the handle.

"I am a servant of Sithis." The Kajiit's voice snarled from within my room. "You have been marked for death." I almost couldn't believe my ears. Sure I had stolen a few items over the years, but contacting the Dark Brotherhood seemed to be a little bit of an over reaction.

"Marked for death? Look if this is about me not joining the thieves guild then it's all just a misunderstanding. I fully intend to join, I just haven't had the time to locate one of their agents in order to make it... Erm... Official. Just let them know that I'll be over first thing in the morning." My head was filled with wild panic, the door banging and rattling as the killer tried to get at me.

"This has nothing to do with the thieves' guild." The assassin growled. "It is fortunate that we have this chance to talk. Countess Narina Carvain wishes for you to know exactly why you are to die."

"Oh..."

"She says that your mistake was not talking your way into her bed and nor was it stealing items from her priceless collection of Akaviri artifacts. The lady was so smitten with you that she would have gladly gifted you with the items had you but asked. However, using one of her favorite items to pay for a tavern wench, in her own town no less." I heard a quiet throaty chuckle from within before he continued. "Well the pain that this caused her drove her to seek the help of the Night Mother. You will die slowly by my hand as per her instructions."

"Wait a moment. All that happened in Bruma. How did you know I'd be here?" My mind was racing, but I needed to find this out before I tried to escape.

"Sithis knows all. This one was informed of where you were staying and intended to intercept you when you returned to your room."

"So, you don't know what I look like?" I asked, an idea suddenly forming in my mind.

"Correct. This one has never seen your face..."

"That's all I needed to know." I interrupted, turning the key and locking the door before madly dashing for the stairs and fleeing from the building. The lock wouldn't hold the assassin for long, but with a little luck the head start would be enough. I weaved my way between the buildings, attempting to stay out of sight. Not paying much attention to my surroundings, just hoping to manage to lose myself before Narina's vengeance caught up with me. Eventually I found myself beside the steps to the chapel of Dibella. I glanced around looking for some kind of escape and spotted what I believed to be my salvation.

Opposite the chapel a small crowd was gathering to listen to the ministering of a strange looking man. "Hear me, o people of Cyrodiil!" He cried out to the gathered people. "Look well upon the Chapel of Dibella. Look at the faces of the dead. This is your future. Evil has returned, and the Nine need a champion! Is there no one who would stand for the Nine? Now Mara's children cry out from beyond the grave for vengeance! How many more must die at Umaril's hand?"

Perfect. Or so I believed at the time. I swiftly crossed the road and slipped into the thronging crowd as a Khajiit appeared along the road beside the old manor house belonging to Velwyn Benirus, looking around as he furtively searched for someone. I worked my way further into the crowd in order to avoid the assassin's attention and almost lost my head as I trod on the foot of a huge Orc, who bellowed in pain and swung his mighty arm in my direction. Luckily I managed to duck beneath the the huge appendage, but it seemed that the commotion he caused had gotten the attention of all those standing nearby, including the Prophet himself.

"Who is this I see before me?" He cried facing towards me. "Are you the one amongst us who will quest for the holy weapons of Pelinal Whitestrake?" I could feel his eyes burning into mine, his religious fervor infecting the crowd that surrounded me. I didn't believe a word of his ranting myself, but saying this in front of his attentive crowd would be as unwise as yelling for the Khajiit's attention. Instead of risking upsetting the crowd of fanatics I nodded, trying to look noncommittal. Apparently the Orc was paying a huge deal of attention to my actions and I was almost driven to my knees as he joyfully clapped me on my shoulder. "He is." The burly greenskin bellowed in my ear. "Here. Your champion is here."

"Him?" The Prophet almost snorted as he looked me up and down. "This is the man who would find the ancient relics that have evaded great men and worthy knights throughout the ages? Are you a worthy knight?" I wanted to get away, rather than blending in I had ended up drawing more attention to myself. I glanced around furtively, close to panic and spotted that the Khajiit had also joined the growing crowd. Though his attention seemed to be more focused on the crowd than on the elderly man who was now questioning me.

I tried to brush off his words, looking down at my feet and mumbling that in the great scheme of things, I was nobody. Just a simple man with no claim to greatness. Rather than simply dismissing me as I had hoped the old man instead smiled knowingly at me. "Let the gods be the judge of that," He cried out, to the approval of the growing crowd. "I can only see the words and deeds of men. But the gods can see into their hearts." Well that was me dammed from the start then. If the gods looked into my heart all they would see would be greed, selfishness and a completely self serving nature. Lucky for me that I didn't believe in the gods.

I faced the crowd and held my arms wide, attempting to show the same religious fervor as those gathered round me. If I could convince these idiots that I was one of them, then I was willing to wager that the killer who even now stalked me would simply dismiss me as another fanatic. "Yes." I shouted at the people and the Prophet alike. "I will be your champion. How can I find these relics?"

He gave a rather vague response to this, no less than I expected from a member of any kind of clergy. Saying things about the gods granting knowledge to those they deem worthy and how they would act in unpredictable ways. Instead of offering any kind of straight answer he instead suggested that I follow tradition and follow something called "The Pilgrims Way", stopping and praying at the wayshrine of each of the divines as I sought their wisdom. I opened my mouth to protest, to say that I couldn't be the chosen since I didn't know where the shrines were located. Before I could produce a sound however, the old man thrust a map into my hands. I accepted this, much to the crowd's delight.

Suddenly someone in the crowd screamed, not the cry of someone caught up in a moment of religious extacy. This was a bloodcurdling scream of abject terror. In moments the crowd had dispersed, scattering in every direction to flee from the sudden commotion in their midst. Before a handful of seconds could pass I found myself almost alone facing a corpse on the floor. The body looked an awful lot like me. Same hairstyle, same clothing. He certainly looked enough like me that someone who had only heard a description might mistake him for me. Someone like the Khajiit who was now staring directly at me. It seemed to dawn on him that he had killed the wrong person. He snarled as he charged me, an elvish short sword already raised above his head. I would like to say that at this moment I snatched up a sword of my own and heroically dueled to the death with the assassin. However this wouldn't be true. What I instead did was give a small cry of terror and cringe away from the oncoming blade. To my surprise the huge, solid head of a warhammer passed over my head and struck the assassin in the face. Smashing his features and snapping his neck immediately.

As the twitching corpse collapsed to the floor I whirled around to face my rescuer. It was the enormous Orc who had almost taken my head off earlier. "Ummm, Th... Thank you." I ventured. Unsure of how the brutish greenskin would react.

"It was my duty. I know you could've taken him, but he was trying to attack the chosen of the gods." His eyes glinted with the craze of someone who's mind is far too small to contain anything but faith. I smiled and thanked him again before nodding respectfully to the Prophet and walking away. I had only taken a few steps when I realized that I was being followed. I tried to ignore the presence of my pursuer, but after spending several minutes walking in the shadow of the huge Orc I eventually came to a halt and turned to face him.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"What? I'm coming with you of course." He boomed, wearing an idiot grin. "I'll protect you on your pilgrimage."

"Umm... Thank you, but there's really no need."

"Oh I'm sure there isn't. It would be an honor though." I tried to walk away, but he immediately fell into step beside me. Eventually I stopped again and sidled a little closer to the Orc.

"What would you say," I began in a conspiratorial tone. "If I were to say that all that was just a lie. That I tricked the Prophet and I have absolutely no intention of completing any kind of pilgrimage?" I finished the question with a slight chuckle. He froze and considered this for a short while before facing me and answering in a very serious tone.

"If I thought that you meant that for even a moment I would have to kill you quicker than I dropped that Khajiit." I laughed again, trying to dismiss the comments.

"A joke of course. Anyway, I suppose I'd better get going. Got a pilgrimage to get on with. It was good to meet you."

"That's right, we had better go. Where is our first stop?"

"You aren't going to take no for an answer are you?"

"Ha, such humility. I am touched that the chosen of the gods would show such concern for my safety. I will follow you from now until the gods tell me differently." He stopped and thrust a mighty hand at me. "Crummock Gro-Gash."

"Well met." I said reluctantly and shook his hand with a sigh. "Leo Ostorius. Let's get out of here."

"I am honored sir. Thank you for giving me this chance. Oh sir, I think I can help you out with a little advice."

"Oh, what's that?"

"I heard your warcry when the Khajiit attacked you." He paused for a moment as he seemed to consider how best to continue. "Bit feminine wasn't it?"

:lol:

I'm liking it so far. It's excellent, should I say.

This fanfic is... great. Excellant even. I liked the little conversation between Leo and the Assassin.