'I remember once I had a contract to kill a nana. When I slipped into her house, she was happily knitting away by the fire. I was curious so I waited patiently for her to finish. In the end, she knitted an adorable little noose. She then turned in her seat and offered it to me. I was shocked, but then she explained that she took out the contract on herself. She was old, had no friends or family left, and wanted to spice up her little village with something salacious since nothing ever happened there. I was supposed to stab her at least a dozen times. I warned her that it would hurt, to which she replied, "well, at least I'll finally feel something". It's always the crazier ones you remember most.'
-- Stops-His-Heart, recalling one of his more bizarre contracts with the Dark Brotherhood.
Welcome back @sugarysins and thank you for the tag! Hope everything is going well for you.
Sharing a treat; the whole Prologue for 'Return to Blackwood', set in the aftermath of Varen's Rebellion. Bloodies and Stops are together for this one, and I hope I finish this piece to go along with 'A Bloody Name'. It'll be a fun exercise trying to make references but not go so far as to make readers feel they must do prior reading.
I am waiting for a friend to get back to me with my editing copy of 'An Unexpected Encounter'. Once I get that, I hope to finally publish it so... stay tuned?
Tagging: @p0lygondust @crynwr-drwg show me your MAPs and LANG LANG
Prologue
The sun hung low in the sky but had not dipped below the high walls of the Imperial City to bestow its dusky afternoon kiss to the Valus Mountains on Cyrodiil’s eastern horizon. The battle was finally over and Bloodies sat with Stops on the stone half-wall to witness all Varen’s soldiers cheering for their Emperor. The former Duke, now Emperor, Varen Aquilarios emerged from the White-Gold Tower driving a wheelbarrow with Sai Sahan and Lyris Titanborn at his back. Bloodies’ brow furrowed as he watched the simple thing trundle down the steps of the Imperial Palace with its lifeless cargo dangling its arms from its sides.
‘Really makes you forget he was an emperor,’ Stops commented on the sight as he cut a slice of an apple stolen from the palace tables.
‘As it should be,’ Bloodies replied instantly.
When the wheelbarrow reached the bottom of the steps with a thud, Leovic’s corpse jolted as though it wished to move again.
Bloodies hopped up. ‘I’m going to go pay my respects.’
Stops tilted his head for a moment but then followed his love behind Varen’s cohort. They joined what was a small mockery of a procession as soldiers jeered and threw pebbles at the wheelbarrow, while also crying out Varen’s name in praise.
They entered the ruins of the Market District, where Leovic’s Legion and a number of Varen’s soldiers still laid dead in the hundreds. Many of the corpses had well begun to rot after the week-long battle, and the pungent smell of death hung heavy in the air. Bloodies, like the rest of the soldiers, was used to the odour. Stops, on the other hand, wrapped his unfinished apple in cloth and pulled up his mask over his face to cover his snout.
Varen stopped at the height of the steps down into the war-torn district, looking over the soldiers under his command who had already started recovering the bodies of their fallen comrades. Without a word, he brought the wheelbarrow about to the right and dumped Leovic’s corpse out into the gutter like trash. This act alone brightened the spirits of his soldiers who cheered. Leaving the wheelbarrow behind, Varen and his cohort stepped into the district to help his soldiers with clearing the streets of the dead.
Bloodies stepped up the stone half-wall and without hesitation spat on Leovic before the weak current carried him toward the sewers. Stops leaned on Bloodies’ side as he looked up at him, whose face was stern.
‘Respects, huh?’ Stops chimed in, ‘I’m guessing he wasn’t very popular with you at all.’ Bloodies didn’t utter a word but instead let his seething exhalations fill the silence. As Leovic’s body drifted in the gutter water, all Bloodies could see was the arena with sands soaked in blood and Leovic yawning from his observer’s box. He clenched his fist but then looked at Stops, whose red eyes caught his and the hatred dissipated as he let go of his fist. He kissed above his lover’s snoot and gave him a gentle squeeze. Stops only shuffled shyly into the embrace as his face-scales warmed.
‘He wasn’t who I’m paying my respects to,’ Bloodies finally said. He let go of Stops and went back toward Green Emperor Way, and his love followed quietly close behind. They walked past soldiers taking long-needed rest in the gardens after the prolonged fight they had just been through. Men and women rested against headstones and stone fences, taking pause to apologise to Arkay before nibbling on rations and downing their flasks of water.
The two Argonians didn’t walk far and stopped before a memorial. Stops stared at the statue of the gladiator who wore an Akaviri mask with a demonic visage and laid foot upon the skull of a Wamasu.
‘The Face of Akavir?’ Stops asked, looking to Bloodies.
He nodded.
Once more, Bloodies stood before his mentor and stared up at the statue. While it suffered no damage from the fighting, it bore its own scars in the form of timeworn stone that had weathered rain and storms in its solitude. Green moss coated the base of the statue but did little to strangle the metal rings set into it. Bloodies was especially happy to see the amulets of Akatosh were where he left them, hanging from the rings. He touched the rusted iron amulet wistfully, while Stops stayed quiet.
‘I stood here twelve years ago and remembered a promise I made,’ Bloodies explained, ‘to live on and see all that the world had to offer. I eventually set out and made good on that promise: I fell in love with an assassin, joined the Fighter’s Guild, learned from the dragon-warriors of the Sekiryu, fought alongside unlikely brothers-in-arms against the Akaviri, studied fruitlessly the secrets of the Dwemer, and witnessed the best and worst of Bretonic politics… And all that is but a drop in an ocean that is Tamriel.’
Stops took his arm and leaned in, to which Bloodies let go of the amulet and leaned back in return.
‘But even then, I could never stop thinking about making Leovic pay for what he did to my egg-brothers and -sisters in the arena. I had a chance to kill him, thirteen years ago, and I chose to keep my promise and live,’ Bloodies continued, ‘but seeing the carnage in the Market District—being witness to all the death and loss we had to bear in the last year and especially this last week alone-- I have to question if I made the right choice…?’ Bloodies swallowed a lump in his throat. Stops paused before he replied.
‘You’re alive and here with me, honouring your family,’ Stops said softly, ‘I think you made the right choice.’
Bloodies took his love’s words to heart and thought long about it. A lot had changed about him in the last decade, and he was hardly the same young Argonian gladiator he was back then. He had seen a glimpse of the world, been through the crucible of war in all its glory and all its horrors-- two times over now-- and he still had much left to see in his life.
‘Whatever the case, I knew I had to come back for this.’ Bloodies looked first to the resting soldiers, and then up at the White-Gold Tower. ‘I kept my promise, but I had to be here—to see it end.’
Stops tilted his head. ‘So, what now?’ he asked. Bloodies puffed his cheeks slightly in thought.
‘Honestly? I’ve no idea,’ he replied, ‘I’m going to go back and help clean up the district, then afterward I just want to be with you in a warm bed.’ Stops smiled, and though his mask covered it his eyes betrayed him.
‘I’ll leave you to it, I still can’t stand the smell,’ he said as he let go of his love, ‘But me and that warm bed will be waiting, hero.’ Stops slid past Bloodies, his tail curling over Bloodies as he chuckled, and the two parted ways for the moment.
Before he returned to the Market District, Bloodies looked back one more time to the Memorial. ‘Lord Akatosh, let them know that justice is done,’ he whispered in prayer.
How many articles of clothing *does* Stops-His-Heart currently own? I read that Bloodies-His-Face once said "Maybe my armory is as full as Stops' wardrobe".
Dear reader,
Might I say that is a somewhat personal question? Not to mention we don't typically keep records that have to do with topics so mundane. Nevertheless, I took the time to forward this line of enquiry on and I have since received a response, which I have attached below:
'Dear archivist,
Thank you for sending through the question, and again I apologise for my rhetoric that landed you in this predicament.
It took me the better half of an hour but I counted at least ninety-seven articles of clothing in the one wardrobe. I feel I need to stress that this was just the one wardrobe I know of, so maybe multiply that count by about nine? He always tells me it makes it easier to travel if the clothing is available in the region, so...
Hopefully that answers the question!
Bloodies'
Hopefully that satisfies your curiosity. In the future, might I recommend more scholarly questions? We collect a variety of texts to do with worldly matters, such as Cyrodiilic receipts or the cultural interactions of goblins and minotaurs, and I would be much more elated to be gathering those records rather than forwarding questions of trivia.
Kind Regards,
Stops-His-Quill, Archivist
Fort Dragonclaw, Jerall Mountains’
– A letter from Stops-His-Quill written in reply to another, bearing the wax seal of Clan Sekiryu
'Blood may wet my fangs forever more, but it'll never wash the taste of you from my lips...'
-- Stops-His-Heart, laying his head down on the table beside a drained goblet of blood, his eye peeking out from his crooked arm as he stares at the painting of Bloodies-His-Face on his wall.
