Fanfiction ► Close Shut the Jaws of Oblivion

[Endgame]

Close Shut the Jaws of Oblivion
By Zetsumi​

Chapter One - Emptiness and Nostalgia​

The heir to the Draconis Family fortune looked up at the ceiling of his luxurious bedroom, thinking. He thought about life, about the world, and, most of all, he thought about himself.​

Despite it being the early hours of the morning, only one of the three naked women with whom he shared his bed this evening was sleeping: The Imperial girl clung to his left side, her head resting on his shoulder, looking up into his face. The slightly older Nord woman curled up beside the Imperial, her soft breathing the only sound in the otherwise silent room. On his other side, the Khajiit, who maintained her species were originally nocturnal anyway, lay facing away from him, gazing out the window at the starlit sky visible through the curtains.​

Zetsumi Draconis didn't even notice the presence of the women anymore. He simply thought about...how he felt so empty inside. So hollow. The manner in which he had spent his evening was, or so he understood, the personal fantasy of the majority of Cyrodiil's male population. He was supposed to feel elated. Ecstatic.​

Instead, he felt tired, flat, and was left wanting.​

With a sigh, he pushed the young woman off him and rose from the covers, letting the moonlight bathe his naked body. Standing beside the bed, he walked slowly towards the window, as the women roused and looked curiously after him.​

"Zets..." one of them started, and the young man raised a hand to cut her off, placing it slowly on the sill. He stared at the sky for a full minute before turning back to them.​

"What's wrong...?" the Imperial asked tenativly, as the young man shook his head.​

"Nothing...nothing at all..." he whispered, almost to himself, as the cold metal of the dagger pressed tighter into his throat, and the thief behind him let out a cackle.​

~​

"Did you hear? A Massacre, at the Draconis Manor! They say that the young heir was mutilated almost beyond recognition!"​

The Market Quarter was abuzz with the latest rumour. It seemed to Dehsworn that the people revelled in this latest gory murder. In all likelyhood, it was the work of the Dark Brotherhood...the Morag Tong was only thinly represented in Cyrodiil, in fact, including himself, he doubted there were more then four members in the entire country. There were less then ten outside of Morrowind alone, he knew, and at least two in other countries entirely.​

"Four of them, killed! The women were killed right in the bed! Of course, I never would have thought him to be like that...A Khajiit, honestly, does he have no..."​

Dehsworn turned away as the conversation continued, attempting to lose himself in the crowd...and, at the same time, trying to quell the anger inside him that had risen at even the thought of a Khajiit being thought of as second-class. Lord Vimes, as he was known back in his home of Mournhold, was a prominant member of House Redoran...and a firm supporter of anti-slaving laws.​

Perhaps, it seemed, he would find something more to fill his time here in the Imperial City with other then chasing down his contract. Yes, his first priority was the Writ, but perhaps...he could enjoy himself a little. Maybe take out a 'Brother' or two.

"Looking to make a purchase?"

The voice startled Dehsworn out of his own thoughts and back into the real world. Before him, a Bosmer stood, barely two thirds Dehsworn's own height, grinning up at him from behind a stall filled with dusty old books and tomes.

"Um...no, sorry..." the Assassin apologised, backing away, but the Wood Elf yelled out after him:

"Come now, we've got plenty of titles to choose from! The infamous 'Wolf Queen' series? 'A Less Rude Song?' 'Mysterious Akavir?' 'The Lusty Argonian Maid?'..."

Before the Bosmer could finish the list he'd obviously planned to recite, Dehsworn had stopped, and turned back to look at the shopkeeper, a dangerous glint in his eye.

"What...did you say?" The Assassin asked softly, walking purposefully back towards the stall.

"Ah...I see the kind of man you are, my good sir!" The Wood Elf noted slyly, pulling a dusty tome out from the pile, and laying it upon the relativly bare space in the centre, grinning: "This one...over a hundred Khajiit jokes...some of the best I've ever heard...listen to this one: Why do Khajiit lick their..."

The unfortunate elf never got the chance to finish his joke, as Dehsworn's Ebony-gauntleted fist lifted him bodily from the ground, his other hand shoving the stall aside, scattering books everywhere. The marketplace fell quiet as the Morag Tong Guildsman threw the shopkeeper up against a wall, an alien-looking weapon in his hand, black and cold, exuding an aura of evil.

It was known, in Morrowind, as a Daedric Dagger, though here, it was known as a 'Dagoth' Dagger, after House Dagoth, who had predominantly used Daedric shrines in Morrowind. In Cyrodiil, due to the incursion of gates into Mehrunes Dagon's realm of Oblivion, 'Daedric' had come to signify any artifact from that specific realm of Oblivion.

"Listen here, you little Fetcher..." Dehsworn hissed, but before he could finish his threat, a hand was clapped over his shoulder, and two men in armour moved between him and the Bosmer.

"Look, Son..." a deep voice whispered in his ear: "You'd better come with us..."

Sighing, Dehsworn released his grip on the storekeeper's throat, handed his Dagger to the legion guards, and nodded.

~

"...I understand that you arn't accostomed to our laws yet, but we'll still have to fine you for your..."
"It's alright" Dehsworn cut in over the Legion Captain, looking at the ground: "I know the law. I broke it. I pay the fine."

The two were seated across a table from one another, the Legion Captain having removed his armour after their return to the barracks. The shuddering candlelight seemed to make this place seem slightly less threatening...even comfortable. Dehsworn had thought they cast light spells in the eyes of criminals whilst interrogating them here in Cyrodiil.

The captain nodded solemly, and stood up, moving slowly around the table, until he stood before Dehsworn. He held out his hand. Dehsworn moved to place his wallet in the Guard's hand, then noticed what was already in it: His dagger.

"Not many people carry these here, son." The Legion captain explained: "The last one I met was a great friend of mine. A guildsman in the Morag Tong of Morrowind. It's an Assassin's guild."

Dehsworn simply looked up at the Imperial, his eyes wandering from the Captain's eyes to his dagger.

"I know the Morag Tong don't interfere in other countries without good reason. I just don't want too see you again. Ever. Am I clear?"

The Assassin nodded, took the offered Dagger, and was shown to the Barracks exit, where his belongings were returned.

"Thankyou..." he muttered to the Captain, before slipping out the door and melting into the night.​

 

[frisson]

Nice, for someone like myself, who isn't perfectly familiarized with the lore of Morrowind/Oblivion, I found that really easy to understand. Which is a good thing. xD

I don't think a certain someone will remain dead for long... [/sung in tune] =P

 

[Endgame]

Chapter Two - Trappings of Honour​

It was amusing, Raven mused to himself, the way these cretins went about their daily buisiness, not aware, nor suspicious of, the thousands of deadly deaths each of them could die in but a single seconds.​

Raven was the second ranking Fighters Guildmember in the city of Skingrad...well, the Ranking member, right now, as his fool of a superior had thrown himself headfirst into the Oblivion Gate, alonside the City Guard. Raven highly doubted they'd be returning, ans thus intended to claim the position for himself any day now.​

He sat perched atop the Guildhall, looking down on the citizens of the city beneath him, thinking. He thought about life, about the world, and most of all...about himself. Unlike the Midnight Visionaire of the recent past, however, Raven had no thoughts of his own emptiness...indeed, he believed it was the others who should be hollow, in the presence of his own brilliance and radiance.​

Breaking himself from his misgivings, he realised that, despite it now being noon, he'd been up here since the early hours of the morning. By coincidence, actually, he had first assumed his perch the very second that a young man in Imperial City felt the ice-cold touch of a knife against his throat.​

Releasing his hold, he let himself slide down the roof, slipping to the side at the last second and wrappign his hand around a downpipe. Spiraling onto it, he let himself fall to the ground, landing dramatically on a single foot, and lowering the other as he released his makeshit 'Staircase'.​

"Descended to the level of us mere mortals, eh?"​

The voice belonged to a tall young man, a blue-clad Altmer who sat on the edge of a nearby stone wall, a heavy tome hanging loosly in his grip. Unbeknownst to the young Imperial, however, this mage's name was Vay'leon, and he was apprentice to the Archmage of the Arcane University himself, Archmage Traven.​

Vay'leon was, for lack of a better description, a Prodigy. By the age of six, he could cast easy spells better then most apprentices in the Mage's guild. He had been admitted to the University even without reccomendation, before the age of fifteen. By seventeen, he had attracted Traven's personal attention, and now, he acted as the Archmage's personal hand throughout Cyrodiil, carrying out the will of his 'Master'.​

Unfortunatly for Traven, such brilliance had it's effect on the young man's personality. Vay'leon had an ego comparable to Raven's itself...he simply had the intelligence to keep it in check. However, that didn't stop him plotting against his supporter and master.​

As for his presence here? Traven had decided, in all his 'infinite wisdom', as the young mage so sracastically put it, that the two noble guilds would do better workinf together as a team to counteract the threat of these Gates to Oblivion opening across the countryside.​

"You must be...Skingrad's White Death, the expert marksman Raven, correct?" the young man asked, grinning slyly. He already knew all too well just who the Dark Elf was.​

Raven carefully surveyed the Mage, taking in all that he saw. The young man wore fine robes, though their detail could only be seen on close inspection. Had Raven not such a keen eye, he would have easily missed the gold trimmings, and the arcane symbols that adorned them.​

The thing he noticed most, however, was the Mage's face. His hair was a glowing golden blonde, his eyes a blinding green, and his skin seemed to glow from within. Instantly, the archer knew that this was not a man to be messed with.​

Vay'leon, meanwhile, had recognised this same trait in Raven. He saw the young man's flitting vision, his obviously quick reaction time, how fast he could absorb information. That unruly black hair may not have hidden a scholar, but Raven's mind was sharp enough, there was no doubt about that.

Raven made the first move.

"Who might you be?" he asked pointedly, his eyes belying that it was not so much a question of Vay'leon's name, but his standing. The archer recognised a Mage when he saw one, so he'd obviously realised by now that Vay'leon was in the Guild, if not the university. What he wanted to know was where in those two he was.

"Archmagi's second, direct assistant and envoy, Vay'leon Kagen. I'm here to speak to you on behalf of the Archmage."

Raven was surprised at Vay'leon's straightfoward answer, and was almost on the verge of dismissing him, out of either habit or instinct...when an arrow buried itself in the Mage's back.​

 

[Masquerade]

RoA, Oblivion/Morrowind games are amazing =O. I'm happy Zets started getting further ;D Anyway, elaboration on chapters is the only thing that I can ask for. Very interesting story, and easy to understand. I wouldn't expect anything else from the Zetsumi

 

[Swag]

Vay'leon Kagen = LoC? Since Valyon and his real name is Kegan? Also, I can't wait untill my character appears.

Keep up the good work Zets.

 

[frisson]

Yay, Raven is so cool. xD

And BD, I know, I've been watching him play Oblivion and am borrowing morrowind. ^_^

 

[Endgame]

I'm not in the mood, nor do I have the inspiration, tonight. My apologies, as this means, no Chapter Three until tomorrow!

However, I don't want to give up on this as I do everything else I start...so, an addendum!

Oh. And first person to correctly identify the three Dark Brotherhood members mentioned gets repped

-Subchapter Two-​

Above the city, atop a small outcrop of rocks, a black-robed man sat atop an equally black horse, looking down on the situtation, perceiving that it was about to begin. His name was Lucien. Lucien Lachance.

Behind him, beside a dapply-grey pony, a young man leant against the side of the horse, in the shade of a nearby tree.

"I notice there's no cash in your saddlebag...you arn't going to reward them yet?"

Lucien threw a glance back at his headstrong apprentice, grinning slyly: "On the contrary...Neither U'sa Na'me, Aleixstones Hartcora, or Kick'yo-Finds-You will be returning from this mission. Thus...there will be no need to pay them."

"Ah...so it's a suicide mission? Or you just don't think they're good enough?"

"I simply do not expect them to survive, my friend. Just as I did not expect you to survive that night in the Manor."

The young man scoffed, twirling a dagger in his fingers: "Heh...the women can't fight. And the boy...well, he was easy."

Lucien smirked at this. His apprentice was...brash, even ignorant. It was a trait he'd have to eliminate.

"Hey..." The young man intoned, suddenly serious: "The others have been talking. They say there's been talk around about...a traitor."

Lucien's lips pursed at this. So the young man had heard. Indeed, there were whispers of a traitor in their ranks. Brothers and Sisters were suddenly dissapearing...at, Lucien was fored to admit, an accellerated rate.

"My dear brother..." he said softly, turning to look right into his companion's eyes: "I do not spread rumours; I create them."

"Quiet...let's just...see how this plays out." he finished, his tone making it clear that this was the last either would speak until the three Assassins lay dead.

 

[Masquerade]

Am I understanding "Username" and "kikyowhereareu"? =P Those are the two names, don't know the last person =/ Anyway, I find that sub-chapter humorous, as it shows the intent of the Dark Brotherhood, yet shows how they kill whomever.

 

[Laughing Stock]

Awesome Username, actually. Kikyo's the third one, obviously, and then... something... heart-sora? Bah...

 

[Nebula Zero]

Username(Or UserNames R Dumb), kikyowhereareu, and axelownshardcore. Wasn't that hard to figure out :|

Noice story, btw. Update sooooonz

 

[Thor.]

This is a very impressive story, and as I am quite fond of the Elder Scrolls universe I found it that much more enjoyable. I loved it. You truly are an asset to this site Zetsumi

 

[Endgame]

Well, nobody got it, but all three have been stated individually.

Kikyowhereareu, Axelownshardcore, and Awesome Username.

As for the Brotherhood...give Lucien some credit. This is all tying in with his master plan. You'll see. Do not underestimate Lucien Lachance.

You truly are an asset to this site Zetsumi

I've been saying that for years. They just won't believe me XP


Anyway, new chapter tomorrow night by the latest. I got caught up actually playing the game, and with work, over the last few days. Heh. I love that Grey Cowl of Nocturnal. Now I'm going to have to find some way to include it.

New chapter features:
-Raven and Vay'leon's awesomeness! Particularly Raven's backflipping arrowfire.
-Lucien predicting the future! Well, his prediction coming to fruition. Mostly.
-The fate of Zetsumi? The morticians are in for a surprise...
-New characters! Scarecrow, Pho, and maybe a few more.
-Another partial-cliffhanger that you can easily predict.

 

[Endgame]

Chapter Three - PostMortem​

Raven stood on the very verge of answering...when an arrow buried itself in Vay'leon's back.​

Or, more to the point, it penetrated seven inches through the shield that magically appeared around his body as the attack fell, and stuck there, haning half-out of the forcefield, but not able to make contact with him.​

Behind the mage, a black-clad Argonian held a longbow, her red eyes glowing darkly in the shadows she had chosen to attack from. Kick'yo-Finds-You hissed, and let out a short roar, a signal to her companions: The bonus was forfeit: Kill the target any way possible.​

Before the roar had left her throat, Raven had lept over Vay'leon, flipping sideways through the air. An arrow had been torn from his quiver, and he notched it in mid-leap, letting his body spin into position. As time seemed to slow to a crawl, he took careful aim...and fired.​

An arrow lanced through the Argonian's neck, pinning her corpse to the wooden wall behind her as a crimson fountain errupted from her throat: Raven had enchanted that particular arrow earlier, with a damage Health enchantment, meaning flesh provided little resistance, and even a glancing hit would fatally would.​

Letting himself fall, he hit the ground running, pulling another three arrows, and turned, notching and firing all three in rapid succession as he moved, a fluid attack. The first was deflected by the shield of an Imperial woman, Hartcora, who had been seconds from leaping from the roof above Vay'leon, where Raven himself had been mere minutes before. The second peirced the foot of a Khajiit female who'd broken cover to throw a knife at Vay'leon, and the third intercepted the knife in mid-flight, deflecting it into a nearby wall.​

Raven skidded to a halt and drew another arrow, notching it to his bow...but the mage was already in motion.​

Vay'leon ripped fowards, a Stave in his right hand, a shortword in the left. He dove in under Us'a Nam'e's defences, the second knife she'd brought up, and buried the Shortsword in her chest.​

As his hands left the grip, the woman's body errupted in electricity, arcing from the weapon across her body, setting her aflame. Within seconds she was a burning, charred corpse, unrecognisable as even a specific species.​

Raven quickly shifted aim...but the third Assassin was already gone. That's when he spotted her bloody body at the base of the building she had stood atop...watched over by a silent Daedroth, seemingly subserviant to Vay'leon. It's entire body was wreathed in blood, and the corpse before it was twisted, and little more then a torso. A single hand emerged from the creature's massive jaw, no other signs of the remaining limbs could be seen. All that was there was the long, slick line of blood down the wall behind them. It had killed her before she'd even hit the ground.​

"It seems the situtation has changed..." Vay'leon stated, suddenly at Raven's side.​

"Wha?" Raven managed to gasp out, before he felt Vay'leons hand on his shoulder. The rection was instant. A chill seemed to wreathe the mage's fingertips, and even before Raven could ask what he'd meant, that cold shot through his entire body...and he blacked out, and knew no more.


~


"It's an unsual body, that's for sure...can't make heads or tails of it. Nothing we do seems to even break the skin!"

The Imperial City Mortician explained the situation, as the Mages Guild Healer, known to him only as 'The White Pheonix' escorted him through the barracks and into the dungeons. The Imperial City had no 'Mourge', as such, most bodies ended up buried by the family. Evidential Evisceration, however, carried out by the city, had it's own place, in the sewers under the Barracks, far away from the public eye.

The Mage and Mortician emerged into a dim, candlelit room, where a body lay on a bloody stone slab, surrounded by surgical instruments. The body was naked, however, no cuts seemed to have been made yet. It had two main defining features: A tatoo, it seemed, of an eye on it's chest, and a head of silky silver hair.

It was the corpse of Zetsumi Draconis.

On nearby slabs, three dissected bodies lay, presumably his eve companions...interestingly enough, however, the Morticians hadn't yet touched them. They were now as they'd been found at the crime scene, shredded and unrecoganisable.

That wasn't something that the Mortician would forget quickly, or possibly ever: The ruins of Draconis Manor.

Even the outside had seemed decayed, dead. When he'd entered, it had only got worse. The slaughter hadn't been confined to the bedroom. Apparently, the women had chosen to flee, only to find the doors barred by magic.

Every wall in the house had been painted red with their blood.

The actual bodies had been horrific. Their bones had been torn from their bodies while the victims still lived, and bloodstained bones still lay strewn through the place. In fact, the only part of the house not covered in entrails had been the bedroom. There, the only thing had been the body of Zetsumi.

It had been strung up above the bed by wires, but, hadn't seemed to have bled. He's been there for a few days when they at long last removed his corpse...but then, Zetsumi had always been pale. Some had thought he'd been a vampire.

This autopsy revealed he was much much more then that. He didn't even seem human.

"Like I said...nothing breaks the skin. It seems like it's cutting, but just won't cut!"

The older man was silenced as the mage strode fowards to look the body over. He stood in silence for a minute, before making a whispered proclamation.

"You...sneaky bastard! How in the hell did you manage this?"

The Mortician was on the verge of asking the Altmer what he'd meant, when he was silenced as the mage threw up a hand, looking the body over again.

"This body..." he stated, without looking up from it: "Is not even a body. It may once have been...but now? It's the vessel of some immensly difficult high-level dark magic, and even some Necromancery. The key to it..." he noted: "Should be this eye on his chest."

Picking up a knife, he drove it directly into the center of the eye.​

This chapter's teaser: The Autopsy!
Something is terribly wrong with Zetsumi's body! What is it? Guess right, and it's rep city for you!
If you're on chat, and I so happen to be there...try to coerce me into dropping a few hints. I do so love to share my genius. It's a weakness, really.

 

[frisson]

Woot, aerobatic precision firing techniques!

 

[Sky Bolt]

Ok, my guess is that the spell is an illusion cast on a combination of parts from the disected corpses in the room to make them look like Zetsumi.

 

[frisson]

Zetsumi has a cardio-vascular malfunction, and as such the blood within his system has dried up and formed a sort of impenetrable armor? =O

Mayhaps the tattoo of the eye is a target of sorts, directing any who may wish to slay the man to the location of his heart. In his chest?! Of all places! D=

 

[Stavvy]

Great chapter, 10/10, as all of the others have been. You seem to know a lot about the Elder Scrolls world. Love the Fanfic. . .

 

[Ulti]

What can I say? This is like putting brownies on ice cream. It is just too good. The way it flows, the characters, it is brilliance. But, of course the beginning was obvious. Placing yourself among beautiful women. Got a chuckle out of me.

This is epic novel material. Keep it up.

 

[Stavvy]

Zetsumi, you should honestly think about publishing something, I think it's really THAT good. . .write more. . . eventually. . .

 

[Sky Bolt]

It's Lucien's old apprentice with an illusion spell cast on him to make him look like Zetsumi.