Private [18+] Legends: Rise of Dinok

[Specter of Death]

Now that I have the information I was looking for, I know where I need to be next. The cold, brisk, mountain air couldn't penatrate my hood, mask and cowl, no matter how hard it pressed. It was nothing short of an understatement, how I wasn't looking forward to the trip down the mountain.

Then the thoughts of him entered my mind once more as I trecked. Braend 'On Dinok, the renegade assassin of the Morag Tong. I continued thinking. You'd think that some would expect that from assassins. Maybe not. The College should have something along the lines of information. Or maybe not. It's hard to be sure considering the fact that even the greybeards lacked the knowledge I expected them to have.

I continued my walking down the steps. Thoughts trailing in and out of my head. My focus blurred. I wanted to get to the College, and move on as fast as I could. Get as many answers as I could, to get to the bottom of it.

 

[Heros on both sides]

A chance, that's all he wanted. A chance to finally find his son. Lead after lead, led to nothing. Ten years, ten years of wandering the land, ten years of searching. He started to grasp at nothing, hoping somehow he would get lucky. He stopped filtering through the leads he got, and he no longer went after the ones that seemed most reasonable. Every lead got his attention, every lead was treated as if it was the one leading to his son.
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He walks silently down a path headed north. A man on a horse swiftly rode up beside him. He was an older man, the beginning of wrinkles forming on his face. His hair, mostly gray, but still had brown hairs mixed within. "You are the man, Yularous, aren't you?" He questioned. "What's it to you?" Yularous picks up his pace not wanting to be bothered. "Well I've heard something about a man, with the name Yularous looking for his missing son."

"What did you say?" Yularous turned around quickly, drawing his sword. "How did you get this information?" He asked, slightly aggrivated. "Important people know important things," the man answered calmly. "Then tell me what you know. I have some gold pieces here as a reward." He returned his sword to it's sheathe, and pulled out the gold, so the man riding the horse could see.

"There is a man in Whiterun, who says he knows about a kidnapping that happened a decade ago," he started releasing his knowledge, "I don't know the details, but I know that he knows what you look like, and will approach you. So you don't have to worry about finding him." Yularous hesitated at the man, unsure of any other intentions he may have had. "You seem to have this figured out. Here is the money," Yularous tossed the gold to him. "Leave me."

The man left Yularous to his long walk to Whiterun. Yularous had been set on yet another lead. He prayed that it would bring him to something. For the last decade, he has been optimistic, never letting himself believe that his son was dead. He would keep his mind off of his fears by doing odd jobs in new cities he would travel to, and acquainting himself with the women around him. But he never turned to the bottle like he did immediately after it happened. My son is alive, he would tell himself often. Trying to keep any hope he had, alive.

 

[thoron ohtar'en'huine]

The Dunlain. A terrible group of beings that decimated my people for money and satisfaction. People don't know who they are because they don't exist. In society if people knew who the Dunlain were they would be shunned. A group of people that killed all of my family and continue to kill and destroy anything that they can, just for money or pointless possessions. These people need to die. I will kill them all if it takes four lives to do it. Recently I was informed that one of their higher up men was in Iverstead. But no one knows who the Dunlain are because they blend in, so I will have to find him.

I don't know why but I always liked Iverstead. Guarded by the Throat Of the World and leads to many strong places. I walked into the town with whisper by my side and Kandrimme soaring above. I stopped Whisper by the nearest hey bale and I walked over to the nearest inn. Not many people were in this town. I liked it. I could keep my cowl on without people looking at me like an assassin. Sometimes in popular cities, people my take a second look at someone with a mask on. I walked back over to Whisper. I felt Kandrimme call to me. I took over Kandrimme's sight and fount a man walking out of the town. The Dunlain were good at blending in, and this man was good at hiding his real self, but i could see everything. He was not just a man. He had something about him that felt dark. That had to be him. He was an elf in a dark hood and i could see all of his weapons. Even the ones he was trying to keep concealed. He was walking with a purpose but i could not see where. I had to follow him. I looked over at the man standing near Whisper and threw a pouch of gold at him. "keep her safe. Ill be back soon." He nodded and i set off after the strange man. Kandrimme kept an eye on him from above and I followed from a distance in the trees. It seems he's making his way to Winterhold.

 

[Specter of Death]

The wanderer thought deeply about his travels to come. Ivarstead behind him now, and the sounds of the thickening forest in front. The thought of answers reaching his mind had increased his appetite for more mystery. Who was this mystery of a man that he was tailing? And why had his "teachers" kept him far from the truth for so long? He was sure that even though his head was filled with questions, only a short amount of them would be answered to the extent that would satisfy.


Varon's path was going to be rather long. He was planning to pass through what was left of Helgen, then work his way towards Riverwood, then eventually Whiterun. Yet, his mind wasn't focused on the extent of the journey he had to take, but rather on more questions that he needed to answer. He kept jumping to certain conclusions that always had holes, that would make them impossible. He then remembered the journal, that he had picked off of his master's grave. He opened it, and flipped to the short first entry. Just as he had read it before.

He turned the page, to see a scribbled date, and heavily scribbled words. 26th day of Rain's Hand, in the 26th year of the 4th Era. Not much longer after the first entry. Varon didn't pay attention to the path as he read, reading and walking simultaneously. He read the only scribbled words that he could make out.

We have made it past the gates of the Rift. That fool has no idea that we are just behind him. He still thinks we are hiding in the Vermin Infested Cave. But, at last, this threat is going to his eminent end. Our plan is coming together at last, and he still has no idea what is waiting for him!

Varon turned the page to see what followed this posting. But there were pages torn out of the journal, the dates jumping from the 6th to the 13th of Rain's Hand. The day he was reborn. He cursed out as he shoved the book back into his satchel. Somebody had destroyed the connection between him and Dinok. But now his mind was occupied with more dire thoughts. Was Dinok dead? Was his search in vein after all? Or were his masters actually those who killed Dinok?
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Varon's journey had just passed through what was left of Helgen. The city was rubble, and it seemed to have been taken over by some bandits. Fortunately, they weren't home when he passed through. He was now along the White River, just at the overlook of Lake Ilinalta. His path from the Pale Pass was now over, and the heavily traveled White River Watch road was now what he was taking. It was in direct route to the river city.

On his path he did make a couple discoveries. A black bird would often circle above him, then disappear into the trees behind him. He didn't make anything of it at first, due to birds of prey being quite common in the Rift. But the icy mountain path that he took down to the river, that was only inhabited by the occasional frost troll or ice wraith. Now Varon's mind was occupied on who could've been following him. It wasn't something that he preferred, being tailed, but in order to discover his follower, he needed to keep on his path.

The dusk set in by the setting of the Skyrim summer sun, had come fast. The city of Riverwood had just grown quiet, the sounds of the mill settled, and the barking of dogs silenced. It had always been a peaceful city, even with Alduin's Horde still circling close.

Varon pushed the wooden door to the Sleeping Giant Inn, to be welcomed by a warm breeze of burning wood, and freshly brewed mead. It was only then that the aching of his weakened muscles had set in. His 3 days of non stop travels had taken it's toll, and no he was finally feeling it. And Varon was regretting it.

He slowly, and very painfully made his way to the bar, where a man scrubbed tankards dry. He spoke in a gruff and exhausted tone, without looking up from his activity. "What'll it be for ye?" Varon sat on the stool, with a sigh of releif, and relaxation. "A room," he spoke in a half hearted whisper, under the cover of his mask. The man pointed to the room directly behind Varon, then Varon stood, tossing 10 septims at the counter.

He shut the door swiftly, and fell onto the cot. His body started to feel a very uncomfortable warmth. The grip that had come to Varon on the mountain that he had just escaped. The clutch of a darkness that he wasn't fond of, and he was growning silent. His eyes started to fall slowly, once more. Guided by the coaxing grasp of the memory that he was about to enter.
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His body was still, quiet and cold. A musk and cold air filled the dark cavern that Varon peered into. His body was perched high above a small encampment of men. The sounds of their laughter, and talking echoing throughout the cave. Then his body released itself from it's stationary position, and he could sense a pounding of a sort at the back of his ears. As he climbed down, the sound turned into multiple, and got progressively louder. Heartbeats.

It was the only conclusion that he could come to. It was something beyond his normal senses, something supernatural. His body then continued to draw his bow, without Varon's control. The man's eyes he was watching through, was in complete control, but his intentions weren't clear. The arrow that his body had drawn was that of smoke. Something relatively useless in the dark. Despite this, his body continued to pull the arrow back against the tight string of his bow. Releasing it into the fire that the men sat around. The smoke deployed with a bang, and the cheery moods of the men were quickly released into the cave. Now replaced by the uncontrollable beating of their coward hearts.

His body stood, folding the bow onto his belt, then throwing a flash pellet onto the ground. This released a white flash in the smoke, revealing one of the men, sword drawn. Varon's uncontrolled body, with no remorse, dispatched the man, with a swift twist of the neck. Now, he stood in the fire pit, the flame freshly put out, and the smoke he had released dispersing. Only 3 men remained, all with torches and blades in hand. Two at his sides, and one directly in front of him. But only one stared at him, and only his pulse was being listened to by Varon's body.

"Get him you fools!" The man yelled, pointing at him, and still with no remorse, Varon released two of his knives from each of his hands. Each promptly landing themselves deep within the necks of the now dead men. As the final man's pulse increased, Varon's body drew close. Then he was upon him. Varon's arm extended to the man's neck, lifting him from the cold ground. "I don't work for the Tong," he spoke calmly, with his pulse beating fast, "I don't know anything!"

Varon's voice growled, presumably out of anger and disgust. He threw the man, against the stone wall directly behind him. Rushing forward, to lift him again. "You won't get anything out of me you Vampire Swine!" The man spoke, spitting in Varon's face. He completely ignored it, preparing to speak to the man. "Do you know how the Tong assassins earn their names?" His uncontrollable body spoke. The man's face contorted in confusion, not sure how to answer. "I'm not sure I-" His voice cut off by the shaking of Varon's arm. "How do they earn their names you inbred?!" He spoke once more.

The man's pulse started to increase a bit more, only to release a shaky response. "T-they earn them, by what they inflict on their targets. Usually feelings in lost languages," he spoke taking a few shallow breaths, "like Fear!" Varon's head then turned in contemplation. "Death?" he spoke, curiously at the man, who's face contorted once more. "They all inflict death," he responded, but then added, "But there was one that was called Death by the Aldmer. It's said that he started the Tong."

Varon's grip on the man's throat then released, letting him fall to the ground. The man quickly stood, and started at Varon once again, but Varon was quick to counter. He pulled the man's arm against it's normal bend, and with a 'snap', it was broken. The man fell with a yelp of pain. He now knelt at Varon's feet. "Do you know Dragon's Tongue, Nord?" Varon spoke briefly, lifting the man by his throat to his feet. "T-that language has been dead for a millennium," he spoke gasping in pain, his pulse at it's highest pace.

"Yes, I suppose so," Varon spoke once more. He then dropped the man at his feet once more. "Why did he send you?" The man knelt, grasping his arm and breathing heavily. "Why did he send you?!" The man was taken back by Varon's outburst. He started to shake, and stutter. "We were tasked with killing you," He finally uttered, out of breath. Varon didn't know where this man's mind was at, as he paced around the heavily wounded Nord. Then, with no hesitation like before, Varon stood the man up, and stood at him from behind, a knife at his throat.

"I am no Morag Tong, and I am no assassin," Varon's uncontrollable voice released, "I am known as Death among the Tong, I am known as Dinok." And with those words, the pulse of the man's heart fell shallow, as the warm blood seeped from the large cut in his throat. Then, a harsh wind rushed across his face, and the darkness of the now lifeless cavern faded, into the warmed room that Varon had fallen asleep in the previous night.