Eight Dunmer were seated in a round table. Each and every of them seemed concerned. Behind them were representative soldiers from each of their Houses. The Telvanni of the Eight seemed particularly anxious.
"Serjos, I hate to admit but this matter is of the most grim. One wizard from my own house has fallen rogue. We suspect he practices experiments on Dunmer, and we have been incapable of tracking down this ill-natured wretch." Spoke the Telvanni with concerned voice.
"A rogue wizard who originates from Telvanni? Even the bal's are surprised." Representative of Hlaalu laughs.
The representative of House Indoril stands up from his seat. "Telvannikhan. The House Indoril could offer you a solution that would be of gah-julan. House Indoril has a Altadoon that is capable of solving your issue."
"If you are referring to your Nammu, Indoril. That s'wit does not even come near my House anymore." The representative of Dres spoke as he slammed his fist to the table. "Muthsera, I apologize for my temper, but your so called Altadoon is capricious. The previous time you sent him on a mission, instead of the target alone, we also lost our Baltel." The telvanni tilts his head slightly. "Color me intrigued, Indoril." As the Telvanni was about to continue, the representative of Hlaalu interupts him. "Telvanni, are you certain this Indoril is thinking of your julan? Kena, this Nammu weapon is reckless."
The Telvanni wipes his face with his hands and sighs. "Indoril, what about the captured?" The Indoril shakes his head. "I will not guarantee their safety." The telvanni nods. "Understood, when will be this Altadoon be taking action?"
"I will send the word, he will pursue your rogue wizard with haste at sunrise."
The Dres Councillor walks on the streets of Mournhold, he approaches a door and knocks on it. The door opens halfway. "Yes?" A man behind the door questions. The Dres councillor hands a note that is snapped from his hands. The door is shut immediately.
Dear friend,
The Indoril are sending Magebane to deal with a Telvanni Wizard from the request of the House Telvanni. This is your chance to get rid of him. My friend, a captain of chap'til must be avenged. Please, send him my regards. Make sure he suffers till his last breath.
The next morning, the courier arrives to a house on the outskirts of Mournhold. A Dunmer male extends his hand as the courier rides past, and grabs the letter the courier was reaching out for him. He opens the sealed letter and reads through it. He exhales deeply from his nose and closes his eyes.
The Dunmer opens the door to his house, he takes the stairs down to the cellar. In the cellar he walks to a book-case and grabs it from the edge, he pulls and the book-case moves. He stares at his armor and weapon for a while before grabbing them.
Two weeks the Magebane tracked down the rogue Telvanni Wizard, and on the last days of daylight, he entered the tombs where the wizard supposedly resides at.
He walks into the tomb, which seemed inhabited. The torches brought comforting light to the worned out walls. Magebane takes cautious steps as he approaches the main hall. He hears as the door is slammed behind him. He turns around, between him and the door there is a man standing. Magebane recognizes his armor as a member of Morag Tong. The member of the Tong speaks: "Altadoon Indoril, you have blood on your ghartok, which belongs to my friends at Dres." The Magebane seems amused. "I suppose you are here to avenge the captain. Oh did that fetcher beg for his life when I thrust my blade through his lungs. Beautiful sight it was."
The member of the Tong draws his bow and the Magebane ducks behind a pillar. With his bow drawn, the assassin approaches the pillar Magebane hid himself behind. As assassin quickly dashes to Magebanes supposed location, he notices he was no longer behind the pillar. The magebane's fist meets the assassins chin, and even if the armor protects the impact, the distraction gives Magebane enough time to disarm the assassins bow. A brawl occurs, as both of them exchange blows of fists and kicks. The assassin quickly unsheathes a dagger and manages to cut flesh from Magebane's shoulder. Magebane grunts as he delivers a kick to the assassins groin, and both of them retreat few paces. Magebane draws his dagger as well. They charge at each other like leaping saber-cats. The wrestle of holding each others hands from allowing them to sink their daggers at each other. They exchange glares, and the assassin headbutts Magebane, sending him to a sitting position on the floor. The assassin begins to laugh as he pulls another dagger to his left hand. "How much air do you have left in your chest, Nammu. I suggest you take deep breath, for it will be your last." The assassin leaps towards Magebane. The magebane looks upwards and conjures a spear. The spear manifests and pierces through the stomach of the assassin, using his seated position as leverage, the Magebane throws the assassin over. As he lets go of the spear it disappears from the realm of Nirn. The assassin falls on the floor behind him.
They both gasp for air that reeks of mold. The assassin unmasks himself and stares at his stomach as he sinks his fingers to the hole on his stomach. He pulls the hand close to his face and watches the blood dropping from his glove.
"Nchow, I suppose this tomb will be my final resting place."
The Magebane glances at the ceiling. "Other than the smell, this is not a bad place to die." They both burst into laugh. Magebane holds his sore shoulder, he did not survive the combat without wounds either. "If I let you live, you would come after me, F'lah, yes?" The assassin grunts and replies: "Yes, admittedly so." Magebane nods. "There is no honor in ending a life of a man who lies on the floor. Get on your knees." The assassin was happy to comply.
To be continued...
