A Little Praise, A Lot of Grief

"That was amazing!" Synderius praised Drayden as he settled down in a chair, drenched in sweat, and looking the part of one victorious. Agronak patted him strongly on the back, nearly knocking Drayden out of his chair.

"Oh, uh, sorry, friend. The whole strength thing." Drayden raised a hand in pardon. "That was a great match, though, I must admit. Tell me, how did you cause the grate to cave in like that.

Drayden leaned back in the chair, and took in a deep breath. He smiled. "Telekinesis with a hint of destructive magic. I heard the grate giving out, anyways. I figured why not help it along and cause our friend a little stumble."

"Ah, spell combining," came a familiar voice. The Arch Mage walked out of the hall from the Bloodwork's entrance, clad in his usual fine blue satin apparel. "How intuitive of you. But next time, might I dissuade you from causing the Arena such damage. Owyn is, for lack of a better term, pissed."

Drayden play-mocked fright, but blanched when Boss's voice rang painfully in his ears.

"Worm!" A door slammed at the main entrance. "Worm! Where are you?" Owyn stepped into the Bloodworks, his face reddened with rage. Drayden thought he could actually see steam rising off the Blademaster's head. His eyes narrowed as he marched forward.

Drayden rose accordingly to stand his ground, and found himself staring in a raging inferno that blazed in Owny's eyes. Drayden had seen worse, but the longer Owyn drilled him with a stare, the more uncomfortable Drayden became.

"Tell me, worm, what were you thinking?" Owyn seethed. "You have cost me a fortune with that grating. Do you even want to know how much it will cost to replace it? You'll receive one hundred lashes as just the initial punishment. Oh, you'll pay for this."

The Arch Mage stepped forward. "Perhaps the Arcane University may be of assistance with the costs," he said.

Both Drayden and Owyn turned their head in surprise. Most of Owyn's anger melted away, but Drayden could tell he fought to hold on to it.

"I-I, uh." The Blademaster cleared his throat. "It won't be cheap, I'm telling you that right now," he said, putting his gauntleted hands on his hips. He puffed out his chest, as if he were trying to intimidate the Arch Mage. Drayden laughed inwardly, knowing if he did it out loud he might receive icy stares from both men.

The Arch mage shrugged. "How much are we talking? Whatever the cost, the Arcane University will have more than enough funds to cover the damage. We can even enhance the metal, magically of course, so that little occurrences like this won't happen again." He looked at Drayden as he said this.

Drayden smiled weakly, but found an internal energy welling up in the pit of his stomach. Was the Arch Mage really, truly, serious about covering the damage caused by him? Drayden had never had a friend so willing to help him out with anything, let alone pay his debt.

The Arch Mage turned his attention back the Blademaster. "So? How much?"

Owyn pretended to count out on his fingers how much, obviously delaying. Drayden saw the Arch Mage's eyes narrow in annoyance, but the man remained calm and patient as Owyn wasted his time with his frivolous counting.

"Roughly fifty-thousand septims," he said with a sly grin. Drayden's eyes bulged in shock. Was the Arch Mage really going to buy into this nonsense? Drayden turned his attention to the Arch Mage and awaited his answer.

The Arch Mage nodded and shot Drayden a warning glare. Don't say anything, his eyes said. Drayden sat back down in his chair.

"You'll have your payment before the end of the week. Fair enough?"

Owyn was speechless. He opened his wide mouth, but no words came out. He sufficed to giving a nod.

"Very well then," said the Arch Mage, turning on his heel before leaving.

"You're still receiving that one-hundred lashes," Owyn growled, turning back to Drayden.

"No more than twenty!" The Arch Mage yelled back into the Bloodworks. Drayden winced at having to receive any, but was greatly appreciative that he only had to endure twenty, and not the whole hundred like Owyn promised him. He knew Owyn would not go against the Arch Mage's demands. And he thought it, perhaps, a fair price to pay for costing the Arch Mage such a vast amount of money.

Owyn turned in surprise. He growled deeply, but kept any other comments to himself. He stormed off to some part of the Bloodworks that Drayden didn't know about, though Drayden could still hear a plethora of muffled curses.

He pulled his chair up to a table that Agronak and Synderius had seated themselves at. A feast, by Drayden's reckoning, lay before him. He was famished, and tired, and ready for a little break. The three ate in relative silence, but Drayden could see that he had, by some inconceivable miracle, made a few steadfast friends.

What a great follow-up to that Arena Match! Awesome as always Sipher1988 !!!

To be honest, it was actually a last minute thing. I was working on a chapter, but it didn't tell of the consequences Drayden had to suffer because of his destruction of the grate. So, I added this in. I'm working on the next chapter and it should be done MAYBE by tonight, depending on a few events that may or may not happen tonight. But, most likely I'll have it up tomorrow evening.

I thought the "last minute thing" was the icing on the cake. :goodjob:

I agree!

I try to make my writing tasty. So, thank you for taking a bite!

The Aftermath of Consequences

Drayden winced as he sank down to his mattress, his back a torn up mess from Owyn's lashes. Despite only giving twenty, Owyn seemed more than eager to relish every stroke he landed across Drayden's exposed flesh. Each and every one stung profusely, the pain only increasing the longer Owyn delayed completing each lash. And to top off Owny's "dessert", so he said, salt was applied to Drayden's wounds. Drayden couldn't remember the last time he had cried out so loud in pain. Owyn's eyes flashed maliciously as he personally tossed on handfuls.

Drayden knew that salt actually healed wounds the quickest ? besides spells ? drying out any blood trying to escape, and cleansing the wound of disease. He didn't even want to try and reach around to cast any spells to seal over the wounds. He was just too sore, and perhaps a little lazy as of right now. But Drayden frowned, remembering the thought of Owyn enjoying his punishment.

Perhaps this was some wicked retribution cast on him for the things he done, he thought. He dismissed the idea. No, this was simply a punishment for the here and now, not for the past. Though, he was sure Owyn might have thought it was justice for his choice of becoming an assassin.

Drayden sighed, easing down all the way onto his stomach, breathing in sharply as his wounds pulsated in protest to any movement. He knew he would never have lasted the full one-hundred lashes. Surely, Owyn couldn't have meant it. That would have been a cruel and unusual punishment, though he couldn't be sure such laws would prohibit the act.

Again, his mind raced over the punishment he'd given to individuals ? justly or unjustly, they were?

"Wrong," Synderius said, grinning. He held his hands behind his back. Drayden turned his head in their direction, still lying belly-down on his mattress, too sore to move. What were they doing, he thought with a mild headache.

Agronak growled in frustration. "Then your right," he said.

"Wrong again," Synderius giggled, enjoying his game of teasing Agronak.

"Then if it's not in your right or left, you must be cheating," Agronak said, annoyed.

Synderius shrugged with a wide grin. "Well?"

"He's using telekinesis," Drayden said, still lying down.

Synderius looked over to Drayden with a frown.

"Aha!" exclaimed Agronak. "You were cheating."

"Technically," admitted Synderius. "But remember the whole "Hey Synderius, let's start thinking outside of the box" thing?" he said, creating a decent impression of Agronak's voice.

That shut Agronak up. He threw his hands in the air, obviously surrendering to whatever deal they had made.

They turned to Drayden, both with frowns, and walked over to see their friend.

"How you doing, buddy?" asked Synderius. Drayden groaned.

"I can't believe Owyn actually whipped you for that," said Agronak. "I've never known him to be this hostile to any Arena combatant? ever."

Drayden dismally laughed. He knew why Owyn was so hostile to him. Owyn was placed, more or less, as Drayden's babysitter. "Assassin," he said, pointing to himself, but wincing and taking in a sharp breath as he did. "Remember?"

Agronak shrugged. "Maybe." Agronak swung his sword in a tight arch around himself, a mannerism Drayden had noticed Agronak displayed when in thought.

Drayden focused his attention on a weapons rack behind Agronak and Synderius. If he was going to survive any future matches against anything other than an unarmed opponent, he would need a weapon. And, truth be told, he hadn't practiced his swordsmanship in quite some time. With his assignment given by Lucien, he distanced himself from most of the brotherhood, suspicious of all. While he knew he hadn't lost any of the more precious fundamentals of swordplay, he wanted some good practice. The swords and hammers on the rack were in no condition, anyways, to be used as combative weapons. Drayden wondered how long it had been since any of them had last received a decent oiling.

An idea came to mind, although he doubted Boss would ever agree. But he had to try. He also wanted more outside time. Drayden reached around, ignoring his aching muscles and stripped flesh, and cast a restoration spell on his back. Immediately the pain subsided, although he realized how famished he was. Drayden's stomach growled.

Synderius looked at him in surprise, and slapped his forehead. "How about we get you some nourishment?"

"That would be much appreciated," Drayden said, sitting up with a groan. He stretched his muscles and yawned.

"Why did you do it?" Agronak asked.

Drayden looked at the Irc in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Why did you become an assassin? I am not one for mindless killers, but you seem a decent guy. I just want to know why you decided to become a killer. You know, you don't really strike me as the kind who actually enjoys killing others because someone else commanded you to."

What was he saying? Didn't he do the exact same thing? He felt his face heat, and his neck tingled. "And what would you call what you do?" Drayden snapped. "How do you think you became the Grand Champion? By picking daisies?"

"Those men and women chose to become combatants," Agronak said coolly. "They knew that they stood a chance of dying. They put their life on the line to become something great. And, while I don't entirely agree with the ways of the Arena, I forced myself to become someone great."

Drayden tried to mask his anger, but it evidently came out in his words. "You said you don't even like the fame."

Agronak turned his head so he could look at Drayden. He furrowed his thick, black eyebrows until they met in the middle. He looked at Drayden a long moment. "It is true. I don't care for the fame, but it gained me something precious. Something I would never trade in for the world."

"And what's that?" Drayden barked.

Agronak sighed and looked away. "A name," he said with a smile.

At Agronak's words, Drayden immediately felt his anger recede. While he still felt a little confused ? he simply didn't know what Agronak meant by that ? he regretted his harshness towards Agronak.

"I'd rather not share why I decided to join the Dark Brotherhood," he said. "But, suffice it to say, it was also to gain me something. Though?"

"You wanted revenge," Agronak said. It was not a question. He could see it in Drayden's eyes. "But now you're not so sure if revenge is quite the way to go."

"I never said that," Drayden retorted, though not angrily. "But?"

"Dinner's up," Synderius shouted before coming in with three large bowls of soup, one in each hand, and one miraculously balanced on his head.

Drayden laughed at the sight and thanked Synderius for the soup. As he took a bite he looked at Synderius in amazement. "What kind of soup is this?" Drayden asked. "It's the best I've ever had."

"I'm not all brawn, you know," Synderius said, chuckling and flexing his incredible muscles.

"You made this?" Drayden was even more surprised. "T-thank you."

Synderius and Agronak exchanged a look. Agronak turned and asked, "You know, assassin, we've known you now for a little while and still we have not once learned your name."

Drayden set down his spoon and looked around. "I'm trying to hide it from Adamus. But?" He wasn't sure he could trust them to keep it a secret, though he wasn't so sure why anymore it mattered.

"You can trust us," Syderius said. "We're the best secret-keepers around. Plus, the Bloodworks is completely empty now, besides us three."

Drayden took a deep breath. He was really going to disclose his name now. The Arch Mage was the only other person outside of the brotherhood that knew his name, though he was still unsure how. But he now willingly was about to give up his name.

And it felt good to do so. "My name?" he said pausing, "is Drayden."

Agronak extended a hand. "Well, then, you are officially welcome to the Arena, friend."

Drayden shook the Orc's large hand, and winced.

"Sorry," Agronak said, "It's the?"

"Whole strength thing," Drayden said, completing Agronak's saying. "Don't worry about it."

I need to study your style of dialogue, the 'tags' you use are great!

That was.... AWESOME! Loved the bowl of soup on his head thing.

The Only Dumb Request, Is A Request Unasked

The morning after Drayden's punishment, he requested ? via a reluctant guard ? Owyn's presence, though he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to lock eyes with the man that beat him. He could still feel the lashes beneath his cured flesh. Drayden sat up straight on a stool provided for him, and inched it close enough to his cell's stone bars to carry on a personal conversation, but not close enough for Owyn to reach through the bars and strangle him. Drayden was sure the man would do it once he heard the request. And if all else failed, Drayden was positive he could appeal to the Arch Mage to persuade Owyn otherwise.

A sigh escaped his parted lips as he thought of having to bring in a third party to settle his differences. Was he really growing so weak that he would even contemplate on having to resolve to childish antics to get his way? No, if Owyn disagreed then Drayden would just have to put up with it. Perhaps he could suggest, if not allowing outside time right this moment, baby steps. He needed the practice, anyways. Hopefully, Owyn would agree to a little free-of-cell, sparring-time with either Synderius or Agronak, even down here in the enclosed and cramped spaces of the Bloodworks.

Drayden wondered where those two had run off to. He hadn't seen them since their meal the previous night. Usually, they were first noise in the Bloodworks. But not this morning. The loudest noise that permeated the Bloodworks now came from a noisily snoring pig in the cell next to him, even taking precedence over his guards' chitchat. He wondered why Owyn kept the boar, if not for a later meal. Though, the boar didn't look like it would make to great of a meal. Perhaps a few good strips of bacon could be carved from its meat, but really the thing looked sickly. Maybe it was just him, but Drayden found it amusing that Owyn would even consider keeping a pet boar.

The sound boots thudded in the Bloodwork's entrance, followed quickly by a slamming door. Drayden closed his eyes and worked on controlling his breathing. He could not show anger. He could not show estrangement. In. Out. Drayden opened his eyes as the sound of Owyn sitting in a likewise stool reached his ears. Owyn wore a thick red scarf around his neck, and was, for once, devoid of his usual iron armor. The heat of the Bloodworks was apparently in plenty that Owyn began peeling away at several layers of clothes. The scarf came off last, and so the man sitting before Drayden looked much more pleasant and far less angry than the man he was forced to call boss. Granted, he still didn't look too pleased to have been called back into the Bloodworks, but he didn't display any blatant hostility towards Drayden for being the reason behind it.

Owyn crossed his arms, evidently in wait for Drayden to begin the conversation. He rocked back and forth, perhaps impatiently, perhaps in patient wait, but in either case Drayden knew he should begin soon should he invoke a greater anger. He didn't want to have to deal with a griping Owyn for the remainder of his days as an Arena combatant.

Owyn began tapping his foot. He was growing impatient.

"I suppose you are wondering why I requested a meeting with you," Drayden said with a grin.

Owyn raised his eyebrows quickly then settled them. Of course he was curious as to the reason he was here.

"Right." Drayden quickly constructed his thoughts, though he had been pondering them for quite some time so it was really for dramatic effect. "Let me just get right to the point."

Owyn narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Drayden suspected Owyn was throwing a little bit of a glare in there as well. He continued, nonetheless, unfazed.

"If I'm going to combat in the Arena? well, I'll just say it. I need practice."

Owyn mocked surprise. "You? You need practice?" He said mockingly. "But you are an assassin. Your skills are supposed to be legendary." Owyn folded his arms with a smirk.

Don't get angry, Drayden repeatedly said to himself.

"Unfortunately, rumors as such are far from the truth. Even assassins need practice."

Arms unfolded, Owyn inched his stool a little closer to the bars. "Tell me something, assassin," he said, "how can I trust a man convicted of multiple murders to not slay the man I pit him against in mock battle. Do you think I would willingly allow his escape?"

"Of course not," Drayden said, thinking of something quick to say. "There are plenty of mages and soldiers to keep an eye on me. Do you really think I would delay my sentence for a worthless kill?"

"So now my men are worthless, are they?" Owyn growled.

This was not going well. Drayden resolved to a touch of sincerity. "I apologize. I didn't mean it that way. What I meant to say was, a kill worthless for the consequences it would bestow on me. Besides, I doubt your men would fall so easily to an expected blade."

Owyn lightened his anger a shade. "Then suggest something, and quick, for how I am to allow such an agile individual as yourself from scaling the walls of the Arena and escaping. Ah yes. I saw your match with the Minotaur. Good work, by the way. It was, indeed, a match worthy to be praised."

He was actually complimenting Drayden. Drayden must have displayed some semblance of surprise at the praise, because Owyn laughed hard and loud. It was the first smile he'd ever seen the man display. Drayden could hardly believe Owyn had the capability.

"I think I have a plan," Owyn said.

A thought had come to Owyn on how to aid Drayden in his appeal. Something about it just seemed off. Drayden couldn't believe it.

"What's going on here?" he asked.

Owyn grinned devilishly. "As I said, I have a plan."

Drayden sat back, dumbstruck. He didn't know if he could quite believe his ears. "I-I thought you would immediately shoot down my request."

"Look," Owyn said, "It takes balls to have brought me down here to ask anything of me, especially after a stunt like what you pulled the other day. In my mind, the only dumb request is a request unasked. But don't think you will easily avoid my criticism. I'm still the boss around here," he said, growing solemn and putting on a glare, "and my law will be obeyed at all times. You got me?"

Drayden smirked and nodded. "Yeah, boss," he said sarcastically, "I got you."

Owyn glared slightly more, though Drayden sensed it a friendly glare. "As long as it stays that way," Owyn said. "Now, let us go find Agronak and Synderius."

Drayden couldn't quite explain what just happened, but the unsuspecting usually happens when you least expect it. Still, Owyn seemed to have changed completely. Drayden didn't know if this was some sick trick or a dream. A pinch quickly proved false the latter, and nothing except time could confirm the former. Drayden sighed and followed Owyn after being released from the confines of his cell, unsure but hopeful to actually be granted his request. His guards followed in tow.

---

Agronak sat hunched over, swaddled in a cloak, while Synderius cut up with some of the usual riff-raff of the Feed Bag. Drayden found Synderius's jokes amusing but highly inappropriate, perhaps even for bar talk, though it didn't deter the Dunmer from sharing, or the locals from partaking in the laughter. But once Synderius and the motley crew surrounding him caught sight of Owyn and Drayden, and the guards following, did silence ensue.

Synderius's eyes lit up. He nudged Agronak who mumbled something incomprehensible, and looked up. Agronak smiled wide, displaying his rows of sharp teeth at seeing Drayden out of his cell, and out of the Arena for the first time, for that matter. To some it might have been an intimidating sight. Agronak laughed out loud.

"Welcome, friends," he said in a slurred voice. "Come, have a drink with me."

Drayden started off towards Agronak, but was momentarily held back by a firm fist on his shoulder. He to Owyn, knowing the man wanted to give first his recognition ? being the boss and all. Owyn nodded an approval. Drayden went over to Agronak and Synderius, and sat down with them. The crowd around them immediately dispersed.

Synderius patted him on the back and nodded to Owyn. "What's going on?"

Owyn obviously heard. He pulled up a chair. "You two," he said, pointing to Agronak and Synderius, "are going to be the assassin's personal watchmen and punching bags. I assume you won't have a rough time dealing with him and making sure he doesn't break a nail the next time he goes into the Arena."

Synderius chuckled. Agronak nudged him with a dumb grin. "Of course we will," Agronak said, mock-saluting the Blademaster.

"You will have trouble with him? Or you will make sure he doesn't give you trouble?"

Agronak shrugged. "Both," he said with a grin. Drayden and Synderius laughed at their inebriated friend.

Owyn looked to Drayden. Drayden shrugged.

"We'll keep an eye on him," Synderius said with one eye wide open. "Plus, he couldn't possibly take on both the Grand Champion and his current prot?g?e."

Agronak shook his head. "Nope, not happening."

Drayden sighed. "The more you describe their duties," Drayden said, "the more it sounds like they'll be my babysitters." Though if it meant more outside time?

"No, no, no!" proclaimed Agronak as he threw his arms around both Drayden's and Synderius's shoulders. "Thinks of us much more than that. I will not be labeled a babysitter. It's bad for the image. I would much prefer it if you thought of us as your personal trainers."

"Yes, well don't teach him too many neat tricks to where he could cause problems for his guards," said Drayden. Drayden's guards grimaced, even the mages. They didn't like the idea that much was clear, but Owyn seemed to know what he was doing.

Drayden grinned at the idea. "As Owyn said, my own punching bags."

Agronak and Synderius looked at each other, then laughed. Soon, Drayden and Owyn found they had joined in with the others' merriment. Drayden couldn't remember the last time he had laughed so hard, and it felt good. But something struck a wrong chord in him with all of this. He didn't know why, and he couldn't quite place his apprehension, but something inside him rubbed him raw. Regardless, his smile withheld, Drayden enjoyed the rest of the afternoon. His throat certainly enjoyed it. He barely recalled the last time he had an ice-cold beer lubricate his gullet ? since his early stages in training as an assassin.

"An inebriated assassin is a foolish assassin," said Lucien. Drayden didn't care. Hell, he didn't even feel like killing anyone right now. What's the worst that could happen?

Drayden felt his mind slipping into a state of pleasure with each bottle downed. Fuzzy, yet satisfying. A smile played on his lips every second. The other men slipped into a likewise state, until all four of them caused such a commotion the bartender requested their dismissal. Drayden slept soundly that night, though he wasn't sure it was entirely worth it the next morning. Perhaps that was the worst that could happen.

Even so, he felt something good happening. Something he had never thought he would ever see coming, nor ever have something to do with. And yet there was the feeling of unbalance. No, it was more of a sense that something was approaching him, and there was nothing he could do about it to stop it, or even stymie its progress. He would just have to wait and see, and keep in prayer, on how to overcome whatever it was. Though, he had to be honest with himself, a part of him still yearned to be rescued and released so he could once again return to his previous life. Drayden felt torn. But, hell, he needed a clear mind and his headache was more than enough to cloud his judgment right now.

I was just going off to bed when this posted, I will def read this, but it will be tomorrow morning. (Although I have no doubt it will be Awesome).

*** I just finished reading it, all I can say is PERFECT!! Everything is perfect! Your timing, detail, descriptions , story, everything - AWESOME!

Thanks mALX1. I'm working on the next chapter, but it might be a few days before I have it done. These past few have been rather hectic, but LIFE MUST GO ON! And so SHALL the writing!

good!!!

I admire how you describe the comradery between agronak, Synderius and Drayden without really stating it. Marvellous :goodjob:
The rest is pretty good too

I apologize for my slothful progression. Finals are closing in and I have had little time to do much anything but study. However, I plan to have this chapter finished before the weekend. Or by the weekend.

A Match Grandeur


A groan passed from Drayden's parched lips. A weight worthy of claiming it an anvil nestled itself right behind his eyes, an intense pressure pushing outward against his cranium and everything swirling around inside it, stemming from some invisible source. Drayden grabbed his head between his hands, gingerly applying pressure to his temples, and slowly massaged the area in tight circles. Not even restoration spells could cure the incorrigible side effects of the many alcoholic beverages he consumed the previous night. Granted, it was his fault, and what better way for the body to punish the mind for inducing vulgar liquids than with such an incredible headache. Drayden grunted as he sat up and then proceeded to stand, his legs an unstable mess. To steady himself, he grabbed the bars to his cell.

"Looks like the booze doesn't suit you very well. Isn't that right, Drayden?" Drayden looked up with a frown. Why did he have to use his name aloud? Sure, the Bloodworks was empty of physical bodies, but you could never be too careful with magic ears. The Arch Mage sat on a stool a few feet away, quietly studying Drayden with that enigmatic gaze. He chuckled lightly and tossed Drayden a small blue vial.

Drayden studied its smooth, crystalline surface for a moment before looking back up to the Arch Mage, one eyebrow raised in question. "What's this for?" his voice sluggish and groggy.

The Arch Mage gestured to the vile and said, "That right there is the answer to your problem."

"My headache?" Drayden asked.

"Oh no, of course not," the Arch Mage said sarcastically. "It's for your stupidity." The Arch Mage folded his arms tightly across his chest and daintily crossed his legs, which Drayden found amusing seeing as how the Arch Mage preferred garments of a dress-like appeal.

Drayden chuckled to himself. The Arch Mage cocked an eyebrow. "Thank you," Drayden said.

The Arch Mage lightly dipped his head. "You're welcome, now drink up. You have a match later today and we can't have you fighting haphazardly."

"A match?" Drayden asked in surprise. "So soon?"

The Arch Mage nodded a confirmation. "Owyn has it all set up. Your first match against an actual opponent is to take place when midday sun touches high tower."

"What? Midday sun touches high tower?" Drayden looked at the Arch Mage in confusion."

The Arch Mage sighed with a smile. "It's part of a rhyme meaning 'At Noon', dear Drayden."

"Oh?" was all Drayden could muster in reply. Of course it meant noon. The white-gold tower. Midday sun. Of course. Drayden looked at the little blue vial, thinking to himself that perhaps it would cure his stupidity. A dark chuckle escaped his lips. He removed the stopper, the scent rising from within a sweet aromatic fragrance, though with a hint of an earthy musk. Drayden inhaled deeply, recognizing two of the ingredients used.

"Alkanet Flower and Lady's Smock leaves," he said, inhaling once more deeply.

The Arch Mage looked at Drayden in surprise. "I'm impressed," he said. "Not many can do that."

Drayden shrugged. "It's a basic remedy, though I've never heard it used to negate the effects of alcohol and liquor."

"That's because it's not your basic remedy."

Drayden nodded. "There is another scent, though barely present," he said, waving the vial beneath his nose. "It smells metallic. Though like metal that has been burnt? or smelted."

The Arch Mage smiled mischievously. "It's a special ingredient. But don't worry," he said, reassuring Drayden, "it's not toxic. In fact, it is actually a fairly profound healer."

Drayden looked at the vial suspiciously, curious as to the ingredient. But he trusted the Arch Mage, perhaps more than anyone he'd ever known. Settled, he drained the vial's contents down his gullet, a cool tingling sensation coursing its way into his stomach, and from there immediately spread to the rest of his body, simultaneously curing his symptoms. He felt energized and ready to go. He felt ready for the match. Drayden threw down the vial and stood.

"I feel great!" he exclaimed. "Thank you. For everything."

The Arch Mage smiled. "As always, Drayden, don't thank me yet."

---

"What are you lookin' at?" Owyn asked Drayden as the mer walked up to him clad in arena raiment. His brows met in the middle as usual. Drayden rarely saw him without some form of a scowl, even when smiling. Even so, he was a little put off to the intense hostility displayed.

Drayden shrugged. "I'm not quite sure," he said with a puzzled look on his face which quickly melted to reveal a playfully wicked grin. He had come to grown mildly fond of the Blademaster.

"Yeah, well, you better realize who you're dealing with, because your next opponent isn't gonna be some dumb brute." Owyn crossed his meaty arms over his chest. His frown only deepened. "You're about to face a flesh and blood and far more intelligent opponent. This is it, kid. Think you're up for it?"

Drayden nodded somberly. "Yes, boss!"

"Good," Owyn said with a scowl. "Now head on up there."

Drayden spun on his heel and raced away to the blood stained hall leading up to the pit.

"And try not stain my arena with your guts while you're up there," Owyn yelled after Drayden.

Drayden smirked and pounded down the hall to the door. He stopped in front of it for a moment, breathing in deeply, willing his racing pulse to a calm, but strong beat. With his hand outstretched, the coolness of the wood on his palm, Drayden forced inward the door, and walked out into the bright, frigid morning. The cold hindered his progress none whatsoever, even with it against his exposed flesh, as he marched up to the frostbitten gate. He felt as if a fire burned in his veins, welcoming him into the arena, warming him from the inside out. The crowd beyond only excited his blood to a new level.

The crowd itself, excited and lively, buzzed with their usual pre-game pvssyr, and this time Drayden didn't mind. If anything, he welcomed it. It was the annoying announcer he dreaded hearing, but for some reason he couldn't quite place the force of it. He was about to fight! He was about to kill.

Drayden hung his head for a moment, eyes closed tightly, and listened to everything around him. This winter didn't seem to deter even the weakest of fools from coming to the arena to experience the blood bath as the announcer so elegantly described the matches on so many other occasions. In fact, as Drayden listened the crowd grew increasingly excited. He had never heard their anxiety this boisterous before, not even during his visit as a child, nor especially from his fight with the Minotaur. And this was only the silent breaths before the ensuing of earsplitting, clashing blades. He absorbed their excitement for the next match. But how could he appease their appetite more so?

Quickly, just as he had in numerous occasions, he formulated several strategies of attack. He paused only long enough to silently thank Agronak and Synderius for their practicing swords.

"Good morning, people of Cyrodiil!" the announcer cried in a projected voice. Again, Drayden found himself cringing at the announcer's voice. He suddenly felt compelled to run. To retreat from this match.

Drayden shook off the feeling and psyched himself up. He checked his blade at his side, sensing its parched cry for blood. Drayden was mildly surprised he had actually been given a weapon. Sure, he was going up against another sentient being, but all that questioning before his previous match?

Drayden grinned and looked forward to try and see his opponent. Only the faint silhouette of a still being alerted Drayden to the fact that another combatant awaited the announcer's final words before he could rush out from the then opened gate and attack his adversary. Drayden closed his eyes and concentrated on the announcer.

"Are you ready for a blood bath?" the announcer asked. Drayden chuckled darkly, eyes loosely shut. The announcer spoke strongly, his words almost dripping with delight. "Today we have fresh blood from the yellow team. And for the blue team, we have the assassin from last week. We all saw how he dealt a deathly blow to the fearsome Minotaur, but can he do it again? Combatants, steel yourselves!"

Drayden breathed in sharply.

"Lower? the gates!"

Drayden snapped his eyes open and hurled himself out of the open gate, dashing forward at a breakneck pace, sword still sheathed. The other combatant did the same, his sword likewise sheathed. His armor was dyed black, and his face was concealed beneath a black hood. Dark, scaly skin covered his hide, and a thick, muscular tail followed behind.

An Argonian, Drayden cursed silently. But there was something about this particular Argonian that boded ill for the occasion at hand. There was something not quite right about him. Something sinister. Something?

They met in the middle. Drayden quickly devoted his attention to cast a heat spell on his sword so as to avoid the metals of his blade and sheath from hindering a smooth removal. Their swords clashed a split-second later, raining fiery sparks on the arena floor. The two pushed off from each other, only to be reunited in an exchange of heavy blows, their swords whistling through the air as they acutely aimed for vital points. But Drayden found himself equally matched in this field of combat. Only from within the Brotherhood had he ever met someone who could so easily match his blade. Drayden focused all of his attention on predicting his opponent's deft movements.

Somewhere from beneath the dark cowl an intelligible hiss came forward. "Drayden," it said.

Drayden pushed the Argonian away with a magically enhanced fist to the torso. The Argonian growled and flew backward, countering the attack with an agile backwards somersault. Drayden stared down the Argonian in confusion.

"Did you really think we wouldn't find you, Drayden?" he hissed. "Did you really think we wouldn't come for you?"

Drayden intensified his stare. This was no mere Argonian combatant, Drayden knew first and foremost. This was a Shadowscale ? an Argonian born under the sign of the shadow, raised practically from birth to be an assassin until they've accumulated enough prestige to be sought out by the Dark Brotherhood for service. And the second thing he knew was that this Shadowscale had been sent for him, not to rescue, but to kill. The Dark Brotherhood wanted him dead.

Drayden deflected a heavy blow to his right, keeping his distance from the dark and twisted blade held firmly in the Shadowscale's grasp. While this assassin undoubtedly knew his way around a blade, Drayden sensed him to be fairly new to the game.

"Well, I certainly do hate to disappoint you and your masters, beast," Drayden seethed, intending to bait him unto anger, "but I won't fall so easily to you or your swine."

The Argonian hissed angrily, then added with a raspy cackle, "Actually, that is the way this one prefers it." He lunged forward in a lightning quick movement. Drayden parried the lunge, sending the Argonian far past him, but too far out of reach for Drayden to slice at his back. Drayden suspected the Argonian had realized what happened, and carried out further than necessary so as to avoid this.

"You're a little slow for an assassin," Drayden laughed. "Did your masters assign you this mission because you needed to prove yourself? Or maybe they just wanted you to die."

The Argonian growled.

"Oh don't worry," Drayden said, "you won't leave this arena without a bloody prize to bring back to your masters. I promise you."

The Argonian growled again and sprinted towards Drayden. Drayden dodged the Shadowscale's upward thrust, and sliced deep into the Argonian's left arm. The Argonian howled in pain and looked down to the dark-red pool culminating at his feet from a limp arm dangling at his side. He turned swiftly, madly swinging his blade in Drayden's general direction.

Drayden saw the attack coming and blocked it with little effort. He twirled his blade around the Shadowscale's, and locked it into place, cross guard by cross guard.

"Tell your masters that if they want me dead, they'd better send a seasoned professional, not some fresh meat." With those final words, Drayden ripped the Shadowscale's blade free of his hand, simultaneously severing the Argonian's right arm with a powerful downward thrust.

The Argonian just looked at him dumbfounded, too in shock to realize the immense pain he was about to endure. Drayden turned his back on the Argonian for a split second, sure the beast would desist. But in finding some strange rush of adrenaline, the Argonian rushed forward, teeth bared. Drayden spun his blade around, hearing the thud of his enemy's head a second later as it landed at a now limp body. Drayden spat on the corpse and looked up to an ecstatic crowd. They roared in approval.

Drayden wished he could smile at his feat, but this was no competition he enjoyed partaking in. First of all, it meant he'd been branded by the Brotherhood, exiled as a traitor. They still feared he would betray their position. He had half a mind to do it right now. But he wouldn't. He couldn't. He knew Lucien would contact him soon. He could trust Lucien. It was the brotherhood he couldn't trust. It was the brotherhood that had been compromised. Lucien wanted to see the brotherhood cleansed of impurities. He would just have to be patient.

Lucien would come.

Awesome write! I was riveted to the page from start to finish!

I am so glad you got the glitch fixed, I can read so much easier on the dark background - so glad you are back on here, More More !!!!

I thought the combat was written really well.

I am posting to update that I have created a FACEBOOK to interface with the BGSforums and FANFICTION so that all of my readers will be able to quickly access my stor(y/ies). My FACEBOOK name is Ivernian Wrider. You can look me up by that name or go here http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#/profile.php?id=100000527683736&ref=search&sid=100000027061265.2119141785..1

This is going to be so EXCITING!

How does this work?

Sorry it took me so long to reply, but it is doing that thing again where it won't let me post. Hopefully this even goes through. But anyways, it will work because I am playing around with it and trying things. I will post more when I have a clear, definitive way of tracking it. CHAO!