On the border between Skyrim and the Cyrodil, two figures creep through the shadows, one shorter than an average adult, and one appearing to be the same size as a child. They easily traverse difficult to climb terrain and make their way onto a tall rocky outcropping that overlooked the road.
Just as they arrived, they are greeted by a peculiar sight... A large cart was being pulled by three horses, its cargo seeming to be some sort of large metal tube... Though, the figures could only see small parts of it from under the cloth concealing it.
No, the strangest part was the jester sitting atop it, his red and black costume making him stand out like a giant in a flat field.
"Is this the target?" Eleril asks, summoning a Daedric dagger from Oblivion into her hand.
The little girl, Babette shrugs her shoulders, "I'm not too sure, our instructions were not the most detailed..." she mutters before pulling a rolled-up sheet from her knapsack and proceeding to read it again. "Deal with the situation concerning the jester on the border road... Hmph, Astrid sure doesn't make things easy."
Eleril hums, "Well, we are assassins, speaking in plain terms isn't something we do... From what I've seen...?"
The little girl just nods and chuckles, "Its as you say, it wouldn't be a first to have accidentally killed the wrong person. Comes with the profession I suspect... Let's observe the jester for a time until we make a judgement." she says and Eleril nods.
And so the duo does just that, following the jester and his cart for a couple miles. And soon enough, their reason for being there becomes readily apparent. From further ahead, four soldiers in red and black imperial armour jump out, blades already drawn.
Eleril had no idea who they were, but Babette had run into them a number of times throughout her life. "Those Penitus Oculatus fools? What are they doing here?"
Eleril stands and stealthily runs to get behind the group, "Who knows, but this is probably what we've been called for!"
Babette nods, following just as the group of Imperial soldiers reach the cart. The jester was screaming at them, half being rather brutal obscenities, while the other only seemed to be jibberish. His madness seemed to have lulled the soldiers into a false sense of security, and two attempted to restrain and capture the jesture... Only for the clown to stab one in the throat with a hidden dagger, barely escaping the other soldier's blade afterwards.
"You madman! We would have taken you alive!" the soldier angrily shouts after seeing his colleague go down.
"You will ne-ever catch meee! HE will not allow it! SHE will send friends! Dearest friends!" he exclaims in a morosely cheerful town.
Unfortunately, while the guards were attempting to find reason in the jester's mad words, they were completely taken unaware as they were attacked from behind. A young woman in dull red and blade armour springs forwards from the shadows, her conjured Daedric dagger slashing the throat of the nearest imperial while another suddenly starts screaming in terror, patting his arms, shoulders, and chest off as if he were on fire.
The last guard alive, the nearest to the cart turns his attention towards the new attackers but has the jester jump on him, forcing him to the ground as the madman begins relentlessly stabbing him. Most of these strikes aren't even fatal, leading to what could only be called a prison shaking to occur.
Babette releases her illusion on the imperial as Eleril slits the man's throat, she was happy to see that covering the man in illusionary spiders was an effective tactic... However, it'd need further optimising before she'd call it 'perfect'.
"Frieeee-ends!" the jester cheerfully shouts, holding his blood-covered arms out with a wide smile on his face.
"Friends...?" Eleril confusedly parrots, unsure how to react to this man.
"YES! Friends! THANK YOU-so much for saving poor, weak, Cicero, from those stupid, stupid people!"
Eleril scratches the back of her head, "Erm, you're welcome Cicero... Are you the one we were supposed to help? Our leader wasn't clear on the details."
Cicero nods his head vigorously, a mad gleam in his eyes, "Yes, yes, yes!" he gestures frantically at the cart, "I am transporting Mother to the Sanctuary! The last safe place for her! You are family, yee-es!? Then help Cicero to your Sanctuary!"
"Wait a moment, Jester. Just who is this 'Mother' you speak of?" Babette asks after draining a corpse of its blood, filling a couple of vials that'd tied her over for a bit.
Cicero's eyes widen, almost bulging from their sockets, "You don't know!? She doesn't know, doesn't know!? The Nightmother! Surely you know her, the Mother of us all, HMM!?"
Babette pauses in shock, "You have the Nightmother? But I heard she'd been missing for years!"
Cicero nods, "She has! Those dirty, stupid Imperials found her! They found her sleeping beneath the statue... But Cicero, Cicero found a way to escape with her, to save her!"
Eleril glances between the two, "Sorry, but who's the Nightmother?" she asks, shocking Cicero by her lack of knowledge.
"W-w-whaaa-at!? How does a sister not know of her own Mother!?" he points an accusatory finger at her and looks to Babette, "Y-y-you've brought an outsider here!? Why does she wear our colours!?"
...
Babette lets out a sigh, "This is going to get very irritating, very quickly." she mentally sighs. "She is just a new member to the Brotherhood, Cicero, we will have her educated once we return... For now, shouldn't we leave this place before more rats arrive?"
Cicero glares at Eleril for a couple more seconds before jumping atop the cart and having the horses begin moving again, "Then, let me teach you, sister, of the glory of Sithis and the Nightmother!"
...
"A long journey indeed." Babette whispers under her breath, quickly tuning out the lecture Cicero had spontaneously prepared for Eleril...
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"All checks out, welcome to Whiterun... Try to stay out of trouble." the gate guard says, letting the Redguard enter the city unmolested.
Shakeesh nods, letting out a weary breath at finally reaching his destination... To be honest, he had thought he would've died before reaching it. Falkreath was a travesty, and Riften even more so. He'd only been there a couple days and Maven Black-Briar gets cut down in her own home. The city was a like a warzone after that, gangs springing out to try and fill the power vacuum.
Thankfully, he'd already been on the winning side. The Thieves Guild took control of everything. From what he knew, their previous relationship with the Black-Briars allowed them to just pick up where Maven had left off. Jotdarra had even shown him the 'legally acquired' deeds to the various Black-Briar properties, particularly the Goldenglow Estate and the Black-Briar Meadery, which were the most lucrative businesses in all of Riften, and maybe all of Skyrim. The Khajiit couldn't stop laughing about it, and even a day later he was still insufferable.
They all knew such things should have been claimed by the Black-Briar family that was over in Cyrodil, but the Thieves Guild was confident enough in stabilising their foothold in Riften to not worry about it.
Of course, it didn't really matter to Shakeesh in the end, he wasn't a full-fledged member of the Guild, so once he'd claimed his pay from Jotdarra, along with a substantial bonus for his assistance in cleaning up after Maven's 'untimely' demise, he set off straight for Whiterun.
Looking at the city now, taking in the promising sights, smells, and atmosphere that both Falkreath and Riften dearly lacked, he felt it might've all been worth the trouble. He smiles to himself, giving a cheerful wave at some playing children before strutting down the street, straight towards where the Companion's place of residence, Jorrvaskr, should be.
He makes his way up the steps, ignoring the rambling priest of Talos, and approaches the mead-hall doors. "This will be the start of my new life, one without the mistakes of the past. I will be a new man, my own man. It all starts he-" Shakeesh mutters, but pauses as he steps inside the room and encounters a person he had dearly hoped to avoid.
"Oh, it's you again? You looking for another beating or something?" Michael asks with a crooked brow, not having expected to see this person again.
Shakeesh's breathing halts, his body shouting for him to retreat. Clearly, this wouldn't be the second chance he had hoped it to be... But, he refused to allow this small obstacle to get in his way. He coughs into his hand and straightens his posture, "No, I am here to join the Companions."
...
"You sure? I don't think they are too fond of Thieves." the man, Michael says, but Shekeesh could see his lips resist being pulled into a smile, as if he'd just been told a joke.
"I've put all of that behind me. I want to prove myself... What is your role here?" the Reguard asks.
Michael shrugs, "I'm still technically just a recruit, even if most don't see it that way... Whatever, I'll let the others deal with you. But I'll warn you, try to steal from anyone and I'll throw you from the top of Dragonsreach, got it?"
Shakeesh nods determined to not get on Michael's bad side again. This was his third encounter with him, the other two ending in him fleeing while hoping to not be pursued... Clearly, fate had them in mind for something.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Shakeesh soon joined the ranks of the Companions, Michael had let Vilkas know of the man's earlier deeds, but the Companions didn't really care about your past crimes as long as it didn't affect the rest of the guild. So long as the Redguard kept his fingers to himself, and honoured the guild, he'd be able to stay.
There was also Shakeesh's martial abilities to worry about too, the man was skilled with two swords, specifically curved sword, ones that the warriors in Hammerfell often used. Shakeesh had, unfortunately, had to sell his own weapons to reach Skyrim, but he'd asked Eorlund for a set of Skyforge Curved Steel Swords when the man had time.
The Redguard was still pretty skilled with two regular straight swords however, being around the middle of the pack when compared to the rest of the recruits... Which was good, considering that most people who joined the Companions were already accomplished warriors with feats under their names.
Michael didn't really bother doing anything with the new member, he was more concerned with just improving his sword and dagger skills for the limited time he had left in Whiterun. Once Eorlund was done with his armour, he and the girls would leave for the Hall of the Vigilant to try and have Maria healed.
When news of his soon to be departure came out it felt like a riot was occurring within Jorrvaskr... Most people who joined the Companion were there to stay, at least until another greater opportunity presented itself... People either died as a member or retired after many years of service.
Still, after he'd weathered the complaints, mock-insults, and other banter sent his way, it was Kodlak who decided to speak to him about it, the old Harbinger having returned after attending one of his childhood friend's funerals, or so Michael had been told.
The duo just sat in one of the rooms under Jorrvaskr for half an hour, Kodlak silently staring at him as the man nursed a mug of mead. Michael didn't speak up however, deciding to let the old man do whatever he wanted... Even if it was kind of creepy.
Michael how now been there forty-five minutes in total when finally Kodlak decides to speak up, "Alright. You may leave to do what you must, your place in the Companions will be unaffected." he decides, confusing Michael considerably.
"Er, why?" Michael inquires, knowing that this honour wasn't granted to anyone else, even if they asked.
Kodlak hums, pushing his empty mug to the side, "The Companions like to keep our members close, do you know why?"
Michael shakes his head and Kodlak continues, "I'm sure you've seen them, most people who join are stubborn, determined, ambitious. All things that could lead them down the wrong path. We keep them close to them running the Companion's name through the mud, I know well enough that put in a poor enough position, most would resort to less honourable means to get by... But, from what I've heard about you, I am sure such problems won't come to fruition." he explains, and smiles slightly when he spots Michael's confused look.
"Boy, you've been sitting here in this room with me for almost an hour, and yet you haven't said a word. I can only see a few reasons for this, but I doubt you are afraid of me. Nor do you have something planned, as I'm the one who called you." he chuckles, "You were just too polite to speak first, which matches what the others have said."
"Too polite? Yeah, I don't think so..." Michael mutters, sure that such a description didn't match him.
Kodlak shakes his head, "No matter what you think of yourself, I trust you won't cause any problems... Besides, you aren't just looking after yourself, are you?"
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