» Sun Nov 18, 2012 7:35 pm A few things you should know about him: He's a Daedra worshipper, he usually doesn't kill innocents, at least not intentionally, he does good deeds when he can and likes to hang out with the Khajiit caravans. He is an agent of Nocturnal, and appreciates her blessings above all else, including habitual use of the Nightingale subterfuge power. He steals ony when he has to, and he spends a lot of time wandering Skyrim, killing bandits and forsworn, or "taking out the trash" as he calls it. A note to make: Leon writes in his journal in the third and first person when referring to himself. He takes assassination contracts from Brynjolf if he deems the target had it coming and worth his time, he started doing this long after he became Guildmaster as the Guild looked at contracts as an opportunity with no competition.
Leon: Khajiit , Male, Age 29 Class: Assassin
Associations: Thieves Guild (Guildmaster) , Does casual Dawnguard contracts on assassinating vampires but is not an active member.
Character Inspiration: "Leon: The Professional" film also known simply as http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DcsirofJrlM.
Recent History: Leon completed all the Daedric quests, completed the main quest as well as Dawngaurd. He wiped out the Dark Brotherhood because they put a contract on him.
History: Originally from Elswyr, in his early 20's he headed to Cyrodil to make coin, he became a skilled pickpocket and had a phantom reputation for his deeds. The imperial city was like a big fat open coin purse, but all that soon ended when during a gambling match he drank too much skooma and started to brag about his accomplishments. Unfortunetly one of the gamblers happened to be an off-duty Imperial Legion guard and proceeded to arrest Leon, calling him "criminal scum". Leon landed a life sentance for all the pickpocketing crimes over the years that were attributed to him and the "phantom" was brought to justice. He lockpicked himself out of jail, hopped onto a Khajiit caravan out of Cyrodil and into Skyrim.
These are all of Leon's 81 perks if someone wants ideas for an assassin build:
http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y248/community4art/ScreenShot157.png
http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y248/community4art/ScreenShot158.png
http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y248/community4art/ScreenShot159.png
http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y248/community4art/ScreenShot160.png
Spoilers, Don't read the journal entries if you are afraid of Spoilers. It's hard to write a detailed journal without revealing something, improbable actually. I didn't water down the journal entries to appease anything.
I will start with recent journal entries first and then post older journal entries and then post recent journal entries after that:
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2nd of Evening Star, 4E 202
Illia the steward greeted Leon on my property in Falkreath. She left me a note from Brynjolf asking for my services, had some lunch and then took a carriage to Riften.
What could he possibly need help with, Leon has made the entire guild filthy rich.
3rd of Evening Star, 4E 202
Leon makes it down the ratway , the cistern warms me with greetings. Garther sems gitty to see me, the new guy, "Boss, you mind sharing with me a few tricks about pickpocketing?"
Leon gently pressed, "another time, friend, Leon has some business to attend to."
Entering the Ragged Flagon, Leon sees the pleasure of wealth, wealth created from hard work since I entered Skyrim a reputable pickpocket with a huge bounty on one's head.
http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y248/community4art/ScreenShot156.png Brynjolf cuts to the chase as he usually does, "Aye, Boss, you've established quite a reputation in Skyrim, 'the assassin who wiped ou the
Dark Brotherhood and the scourge of mercenaries and bandits,' people have come to know you as the 'the professsional'. I've been getting a huge number of people who are interested if you would be willing to take out this mark. We have no competition and with the end of the Dark Brotherhood, I felt we could make a lot of good coin if you would be willing to take out
contracts."
Leon thinks this is a good idea, however I explained to him my rules:
1. No women, no kids
2. Target must have had it coming, no innocents. Leon is not some Sithis worhipping mindless beast who kills poor fishwives because some pervert gets off on it.
3. Anyone requesting a contract on an innocent may end up having Leon kill the contract giver.
"Fair enough," Brynjolf exclaimed, "your payment will be in this 'guild master's tribute chest'. The target meets your criteria, his name is Nazeem, he lives in Whiterun and often brags
about his 'honest wealth', except that isn't the case. All these people requesting for his death are doing so because he uses a band of mercenaries to force people to sell their land to him for a few septims, He's worse than the Silver-Bloods as his reach stretches all throughout Skyrim and he has all the Jarl's stewards payed off, so they look the other way when complaints arise. The contractors also want the mercenaries killed, they're located at Fort Greymoor, due West of Whiterun.
Leon nodded his head and said, "Leon is pleased. I get to kill a worm and mercenaries all at once, should be fun. Might even do it for free...Here, Brynjolf, take these septims, the contract is on the house, consider this payment to the guild and return the people's money." Brynjolf nodded, "thanks, I think we are entering a venturing enterprise here."
4th of Evening Star, 4E 202
I've decided to take out the mercenaries first, creeping towards the fort from the carriage, Leon continues to travel until perching from a burned down house east of the fort. I relax, scout and stalk the prey as I have some sweets and patiently wait for nightfall.
By 7pm I start to creep towards the fort, bow ready. http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y248/community4art/ScreenShot163.png Misfired my first shot, didn't seem to cause much attention initially, unusual for Leon to miss. Two merceries approach my position, happy accident since it allowed for Leon to slit their throats, bringing the prey to me, up close and personal, that's how Leon likes it. Took two more out with my Daedric bow and killed the last worthless merc with a neck snap. Headed inside east and stabbed one, proceeded to the main hall and slit the throat of a lone, tough looking Argonian. Proceeded up a flight of stairs, with my arrow penetrating the back of another. Three left it seemed, took one out with my dagger, the remaining two identified a still body, searching for an intruder, "you hear me! Whoever did this is dead! Dead!". Decided to disarm with remaining two, cleared the area of any loose weapon, unarmed they were ripe pickings for Leon's claws. All clear.
Now on to the main cource, Nazeem. I sprint my back to Whiterun, on the road a group of Legion soldiers escorting a Stormcloak prisoner. Shouldn't have been to hard to find him, pretty dark out, it gave Leon some breathing room. Leon could not seem to find him, so I wait...
Leon standed under the canopy of the general store to not draw attention. Leon waited and waited for the worm to show up. Had a venison snack with some spiced wine and continued to wait until the morning. I get annoyed with a man trying to converse with me... and then there he was. I slip a frenzy poison on his skin and a note in his pocket and walk away. He died pretty fast, quite amuzing actually. By the time I'm by the gate, a guard reads the note:
To those who prey on the weak, the Professional is watching you.
6th of Evening Star, 4E 202
I walked to Riften enjoying the scenery around me, made camp on a few stops and headed straight to the cistern. Brynjolf tells me a young female Altmer from Windhelm contacted him after she heard about the Nazeem kill. Brynjolf gave me the details, "this Altmer girl heard about the Nazeem kill and was hoping you could help her with an incident that occured. A couple of month ago she was on a road in Markarth hold, on her way to deliver alchemy ingredients. It was at night and she overheard a male and female discuss their frustration of not being admitted into the higher ranks of the Companions. Obviously drunk on mead, it went from sixual harassment to predatory engagement. She could not identify the individuals and the Nordic authorities were unsympathetic to say the least. She wants you to kill one of the companions and leave this note on the corpse."
Leon took the note and replied, "consider it done." As I walked out of the cistern I read the note:
Behave yourselves around the ladies, especially the Mer.
- the Professional
Older Journal Entries
7th of Last Seed, 4E 202
Leon has arrived in Whiterun, this one thinks it is such a boring city. Fralia Gray-Mane summoned this one for a job that is apparently improbable to accomplish. Khajiit laughts at such challenges.
From the description in my note, I assumed Fralia was the woman who ran the stall near the Bannered-Mare. I approached her and she had the look of disorientation and dissolussion. Fralia responded to me, "so...your the professional. I wasn't expecting you to be a Khajiit." "Then you are foolish. Khajiit are the best inflitrators, Leon received word from my steward, what is the job?" Fralia seemingly dazed replied, " My son is presumed dead. I believe he may be a prisoner of war." Leon pressed, "a stormcloak? We're done here. If you stormcloaks had your way Khajiit would be drummed out of Skyrim. If your son, Thorald was Legion, I woulld be doing this for free. This is not my war but I sure as hell favore the empire over the 'sons of Skyrim'." Fralia collected herself and told me, "find out what happened to him". Khajiit are too curious, "I want to know for myself what happened." I left Fralia and headed to House Battle-Born, a previous contact. I waltzed right in, nobody home, found a locked room with a master lock, picked it, and found a journal alongside some silver ingots. I read through the journa and found out it wasn't the empire that had him but the Thalmor.
Leon went into House Gray-Mane to find a big Nord greeting me with an axe. "You better have a damn good reason to be here, Khajiit." Fralis flayled and yelled, "Avulstein, put that down!...Professional, what did you find?" I looked her in the eye and pressed, "your son is screwed, the Thalmor have him," I couldn't resist the challlenge, "This Khajiit is your only hope. Even if you were to hire the best idiot mercenary in Skyrim abd they were lucky enough to kill the Thalmor, which he won't, the Thalmor will catch him, interrogate him, kill you, Avulstein, Thorald, and your husband." Fralia gave me a cold, hard look, "what is your price, Khajiit?" I replied, "Price? Not interested in coin, but some Skyforge steel would make a nice trophy," she snapped back at me, "done!"
8th of Last Seed, 4E 202
I headed to Dawnstar to return the fragments of a Daedric artifact to Silus, it's on the way to the Thalmor fortress near to the border of High Rock, head north and then west. Silus semed too giddy, he payed me more than I imagined and then urged me to meet him at shrine to Mehrunes Dagon. While he left, I picked the display caase and stole his books on mythic dawn commentaries.
Quite a climb, but I evuentually found sets of stairs that led to the peak of the mountain. The twilight made the staggering shrine and statue of Mehrunes Fagon quite intimiidting. So this is the great Daedric Lord that brought Tamriel to her knees?
Silus was mumbling some incantation and pressed me to address the shrine. I stared the statue in the face, if ever Leon was intimidated, this was the time. Leon started to hear whispers and the icy wind cut through my lungs giving me a sense of exhilieration and hightened alertness. I placed my claws on the alter...the eyes of the statue started to glow a faint laced reddish-pink and then...he spoke: "You...mortal...you are worthy of speaking to"...he demanded that I kill Silus, I pressed him to reconsider but he replied, "Mehrunes Dagon does not reward while there is a pawn on the board, Silus and his family have served their purpose. Kill him, take your rightful place as my champion or I will crush you." Silus panicked and urged me not to take the command. Apparently I took too long to respond and Silus attacked me. He never had a chance and met my blade in his chest.
Dagon pressed me to place my claws on the alter, Leon obeyed and I witnessed the majesty of the Daedra before my eyes. The pieces came to life, like a dance, and reforged itself before my eyes, its sheening sparkle of the edges reflecting beautiful shimmers and encased itself in the sheath. The blade levitated and stood in the air awaiting my grasp. Slowly I reached for the blade and ran my claw againt the fine edges. Dagon spoke to me for the final time, "before you go, mortal, one final challenge." His sinister laugh was met with two Dremora Lords, conjured right next to me. They raised their blades and I lept near the door to the shrine and swallowed an inisibility potion so fast that I nearly choked, I turned to the Dremora on the left to slit his throat and the lept onto the other and slashed his chest and torso after he managed to get a good slice at my left arm. I limped into the shrine and dispatched the lesser Daedra within, and looted the shrine of its valuables. I headed west to the Thalmor fortress trying to forget the harrowing experience.
9th of Last Seed, 4E 202
Heading straight to the Thalmor fortress and can't help but admire my new artifact, the Razor of Mehrunes Dagon. By the twin moons, what a remarkable blade. The dagger is perfectly balanced with a base of twin edges that could make the toughest foes squimmer with pain. Its ebony core surrounded by a smooth and refined edge. The weight is heavy on the grip, yet weightless in motion, it makes my forearm feel stronger as if guiding itself. Shaped as a whole like the tip of a spear and when I noticed its razor body dipped with the blood of a wolf, the blotted dark red liquid spread across the razor like a dance of paint...and then the blade soaked up the blood like a serpent swallowing his prey.
Leon started to hear faint whispers and realizing it coming from the blade. Quite soothing actually, almost like a song, but too faint to make out the words.
I've reached the outskirts of the Thalmor fortress. I waited until dusk before assaulting the exterior. I used my aura whisper shout with my night eye on top of a rock overlooking the fortress...7 soldiers, all well-armed and well-armored with glass and elven equipment. Decided to assault from the rear, I jumped in the water and swam around the exterior. Seemed to have been an entrance facing Castle Volkihar, two soldiers, one near a gate, the other on a watchtower. Ok, get close to the wall, stick to the shadows and slither out of watch from the watchtower. Leon hugged the fence, one Thalmor watchguard down, slit his throat and grabbed his gear, he was full-decked out with glass equipment. Guard in the center of the exterior, lets hug the shadows and let him walk near the interior and when he turns around, I ended him, that's 2 down, had a nice glass sword, kept that. Next, I went to the front watchtower, used my nightingale subterfuge to frenzy, the others almost killed the targetbut he was too heavily armored to take down. I made it to the roof and spied on the remaining 5, decided to disarm the rest, failed the first time and slit his throat, 4 left. Gutted one melee soldier in the chest with both daggers, just 1 soldier and 2 archers left, put away my daggers and felt my Daedric gauntlets gripped like soaked tight leather, long fist fight with heads getting slammed to the ground and snapping necks.
Entered the interior, mage and soldier, dispatched the mage with my bow and slit the throat of the soldier. Creeped in deeper within the fortress, along a long corridor. Three soldiers, slit one's throat, disarmed the remaining two and beat them todeath with my claws. Up ahead were a mage , an archer, and a soldier, killed them with a poisoned bow and then three more soldiers stormed in and caught me off-guard. I swallowed an invisibility potion, killing one and creeped up on the other...all clear. Freed some prisoners, all had master locks on their cells.
Found Thorald, big, even for a Nord, didn't looked too roughed up, we made it to the exit and he seemed very grateful and confused why a stranger would risk his life on a suicide mission to resue him. He left me a cryptic message to pass on to his mother and we parted ways.
I slugged down skooma and revelled in my victory and continued to admire my Daedric artifact as its shimmer reflected from the snow in this frozen north. The soothing whispers from the blade were still incomprehensible but familiar...it was the voice of Silus.
11th of Last Seed, 4E 202
Leon is tired from battle, wandered northeast, must be somewhere in Hjaalmarch. Decided to make camp in the frozen tundra. Cleared the snow from a small patch of frozen dirt and gathered some branches and casted a flame spell. While unpakcing some dry venison, I carefully watch the woods for any hostiles. This is a good place to make camp because the amount of trees would prevent a frost troll or frostbite spider from charging.
This one thinks now is a good time to drink skooma. The cold crisp air is good for the shadow-warrior, keeps you alert, preventing sluggishness, and fills your lungs with a good pace.
Khajiit do not reflect, but we do remember, as my white eyes stare into the fire, I drift and remember the advice of my father.
Leon was just a cub when my father and his friends decided to attack the nearby Bosmer. The Elves had a habit of building settlements on our lands and there was always retaliation. We lived near the border of Valenwood and I remember the first time my father showed me the way of Khajiit battle.
Father told the young cub Leon to make a trench in the far forest near the border of Valenwood and watch with hanging moss over my head. The least experienced Khajiit climbed the trees to draw attention. Elven settlers, armed with bows and hides were transporting equipment and lumber into Elswyr. I watched their oblivious faces as the Khajiit in the trees started to throw spears at the Elves. Bosmer are good archers and quickly agile, but not as mobile as Khajiit. The Elves were successful in dodging the attacks and several of them managed to hit a spearcat in the trees. He was hit with one arrow, then two more until his strength wained and fell from the trees to his death. It was the first time I saw someone die, but my eyes filled with curiousity rather than horror to see how this woulld end. The remaining spearcats in the trees started to jump from limb to limb, trying to avoid getting hit with arrows and toying with the enemy. Evuentually they started to light their spears on fire causing an inferno wall of smoke that distracted and obstructed the vision of the Bosmer archers. I counted thirteen Elven archers in total, all mature males, they stayed spread apart in a V-shape to concentrate their marksmenship and give enough breathing room to scout and skirmish...but they were all facing in one direction, towards the Khajitti spears who were concentrated in an area for a particular reason.
The battle was over before it began, as the Bosmer revelled in being able to shoot down another Spearcat, the forest behind the Elves started moving, thirteen figures covered in hanging moss simultaneously, like clockwork, grabbed their skinny necks and thrusted daggers in their backs. I saw my father quickly taking each Bosmer that fell and he slit their throats in turn. The bodies were placed in an orderly fashion on the forest floor and spears decorated in the traditional Khajiit art form were placed around the bodies of the fallen Elves. The spears had engravings of lines reflecting the shape of Khajiiti faces with calm eyes and a painted blue feather attached to the gold leaf smithed in the edges. The message to the Elves was clear: Do not build on our lands.
That night my father set up a campfire near the border and unsheathed his twin glass swords. He stood over the fire with his white and blue eyes, the shape of the fire reflecting on his pupils, he then gave me my first lesson in blade. "Leon, the first thing to know about the blade is not to waste energy. Strike with your left hand," thrusting his blade into the tree swiftly, sharply, and horizontely. His forearm muscles tense as splinters of bark spreadingly shot out. "Now you thrust with your right," my eyes and mouth watched with excitement. "Then spin and strike with your left. Start with the blade low and as you spin raise it up, from waist to shoulder. Exert more pressure as you raise the blade while you spin. This should give them a good slice from their belly to their chest." Tree bark was splintering in all directions and he finalized, "only strike with both hands when it is the killing blow, not doing so will drain your energy and may give your enemy the advantage." My father backed up, sprinted towards the tree, raised his left knee and exerted pressure on his right, before he lept, he switched the stance from raising his right and lowering his left. As he glided through the air his arms were locked backwards, the light reflecting on the fur of his enourmous biceps, then he raised his left arm over his right shoulder and struck the tree. The bark and raw entrails of the great oak exploded in spectacular glory with the entire blade of the glass sword penetrating the tree. My father stepped back with a stance of confidence, "always a good idea to charge the enemy with great force, giving you a chance to stun, stagger, and drain. This will give you a chance to recover and crush your enemies at your discretion."
