With Friends Like These... Continued...
Inside the Sleeping Giant Inn, an Argonian sipped at his mead. He was not really drinking it, but he didn't want to rouse suspicion. He watched the tavern's patrons as they drank, sang, and all together acted like idiots. How long until he gets here
? He asked himself. The Nords paid him no attention. They were more focused with their ale. He was getting nervous that he wouldn't show, until he heard the sound of the door opening and felt a cold breeze come in.
In walked a tall, strong looking Nord in steel armor. He had very short blonde hair and deep blue eyes. He looked tired and road weary. Perfect. He also took note of the steel sword at the Nord's hip. The Nord made his way to the inn keep, requested a room, paid the keep, and then took to his room. The Argonian sipped his drink with a smirk. Everything was falling neatly into place. He liked this very much. The Argonian retired to the room he'd rented earlier that day, leaving the villagers to their late night antics. He placed his drink on his bedside table. Then he sat down cross legged on the floor to meditate on what he was about to do.
Deep into the night, the Argonian 'woke' himself from his meditation. It's time
, he thought as he stood, stretched, and donned his leather armor. His armor was boiled black and red leather and enchanted to ensure he would succeed. He never failed anyways, but it never hurt to be cautious.
He made his way to the door, ever careful to avoid the squeaky boards. He opened the door slowly so that it wouldn't creak. The inn was empty. The dying embers of the hearth were the last lights left in the room. He snuck across the hall to the Nord's room. He made no sound as he moved, thanks to years of training and practice. Gently, he started picking the lock. It was simple, only three tumblers. The lock clicked and the Argonian swung the door open.
Inside, the Nord lay in a deep sleep amongst furs and blankets. His armor lay on the dresser across the room, along with his blade. Perfect
. He drew his blade, a wicked looking piece made of ebony. He crept to the Nord's bedside, "Embrace the Void," the Argonian whispered as he raised his blade high in the air.
At the last second the Nord awoke, his eyes wild with fear. He attempted to dodge the Argonian's blade making it miss its mark. Instead of stabbing the Nord's heart the blade dug into the his belly. The Nord gasped in pain, his mouth was trying to form words, but his body's strength had not yet failed him. With one hand he pushed the Argonian away. Nice try
, the Argonian thought as he stalked closer to the now kneeling Nord. He drew his dagger high.
Intense, searing pain.
He looked down and saw the tip of a thin blade coming from his chest.
Revak waited for the final strike to come. Instead he heard a sickening sound. He looked up and saw the assassin, a green skinned Argonian, holding his blade high in the air. The assassin had a look of terror on his face as he looked and saw a blade protruding from his chest. The blade drew away, leaving a gaping hole. The Argonian assassin fell to the floor with a solid thud.
Behind the Argonian, stood a woman in leathers and wielding a very familiar sword. He recognized her as Farengar's client.
She was wielding the signature weapon of the Blades; an Akaviri katana.