Post by Listener on Apr 25, 2012 19:13:48 GMT -5
"We were swift, efficient, and ready like a knife thrust for the heart. The Nordic fools tried to catch as many of us as they could when they realized the sudden movement of people to the Empire. They were mere flies that we swatted aside as the surviving members of the Brotherhood shattered to the four winds, all planning to reunion in Cyrodiil when the time was right again.
Some of the brotherhood, including myself, have just arrived in Cyrodiil. Now, I move to a old sanctuary of mine to begin the grand plan. May the Dread Father guide my hand to our ultimate triumph."
Morning Star 20th-4E 235
Walking through the dark swamps of Blackwood, dawn soon to come, the Listener and his small company-S'Batu-Kar, White Wolf, and Cicero's group with the Night Mother's coffin-stopped at the edge of the ocean that stretched the beyond.
It was somewhat difficult to get the other end of Cyrodiil, and had to kill a handful of people-innocent or not-but they were here now.
"Stop here." The Listener ordered, looking around, before stepping into the water. "I will return in a moment."
With that said, he walked into the water, taking a moment for his body to really float, and he swam remarkingly quick to a huddle of rocks and a log. It amused him to see that it was still here.
Clawing through the rocks, he found the ancient trapdoor. Tearing through the old wood like paper, he emerged out of the murky water to find a old, cold tunnel. Hollow winds blowing in his ears.
Hissing, he walked out of the water, shaking the liquid off his black garments, but then he sensed something.
Suddenly a black blur rushed through the tunnel entrance and lunged at the Argonian. Despite the surprise, the Listener slid the side, feeling the air slice in two where he was.
Before his eyes was a armored knight, his harness black as his own clothes, a thicket of braids hanging from his helm, and a old pike in his hands.
"Halt, intruder and lay still for my blade to end your sorry existence!" The Guardian hissed with a eerie echo. Snarling at the insolence, the Listener snapped, "Foolish servant, end this attack now, and kneel before your true Master!"
Instantly, the knight stopped what he was doing, and kneeled, "Master...you have returned after centuries. It have such a long time since the last time this humbled servant have seen your glorious visage."
"Indeed." The Listener mused before walking. Through the tunnel, he looked upon the ghastly halls of his former sanctuary. The Deepscorn Hollows, the locals calling it his vile lair.
Blissed in this familiar environment, the Listener exhaled, and said peacefully, "Home."
"Guardian. We have some guests above us. I want you to guide in the secret entrance and carry their cargo with care, you understand me." He said harshly.
The Guardian looked up, as if seeing them, "Yes, master. I-I sense..."
"Enough, go do your duties or your soul will suffer more punishment than even a Daedra would think cruel." The Listener hissed and the Guardian silenced himself and moved as told.
Thus, the Listener walked to find another of his servants, who is no doubt here as well.
Some of the brotherhood, including myself, have just arrived in Cyrodiil. Now, I move to a old sanctuary of mine to begin the grand plan. May the Dread Father guide my hand to our ultimate triumph."
-The Journal of the Listener
Morning Star 20th-4E 235
Walking through the dark swamps of Blackwood, dawn soon to come, the Listener and his small company-S'Batu-Kar, White Wolf, and Cicero's group with the Night Mother's coffin-stopped at the edge of the ocean that stretched the beyond.
It was somewhat difficult to get the other end of Cyrodiil, and had to kill a handful of people-innocent or not-but they were here now.
"Stop here." The Listener ordered, looking around, before stepping into the water. "I will return in a moment."
With that said, he walked into the water, taking a moment for his body to really float, and he swam remarkingly quick to a huddle of rocks and a log. It amused him to see that it was still here.
Clawing through the rocks, he found the ancient trapdoor. Tearing through the old wood like paper, he emerged out of the murky water to find a old, cold tunnel. Hollow winds blowing in his ears.
Hissing, he walked out of the water, shaking the liquid off his black garments, but then he sensed something.
Suddenly a black blur rushed through the tunnel entrance and lunged at the Argonian. Despite the surprise, the Listener slid the side, feeling the air slice in two where he was.
Before his eyes was a armored knight, his harness black as his own clothes, a thicket of braids hanging from his helm, and a old pike in his hands.
"Halt, intruder and lay still for my blade to end your sorry existence!" The Guardian hissed with a eerie echo. Snarling at the insolence, the Listener snapped, "Foolish servant, end this attack now, and kneel before your true Master!"
Instantly, the knight stopped what he was doing, and kneeled, "Master...you have returned after centuries. It have such a long time since the last time this humbled servant have seen your glorious visage."
"Indeed." The Listener mused before walking. Through the tunnel, he looked upon the ghastly halls of his former sanctuary. The Deepscorn Hollows, the locals calling it his vile lair.
Blissed in this familiar environment, the Listener exhaled, and said peacefully, "Home."
"Guardian. We have some guests above us. I want you to guide in the secret entrance and carry their cargo with care, you understand me." He said harshly.
The Guardian looked up, as if seeing them, "Yes, master. I-I sense..."
"Enough, go do your duties or your soul will suffer more punishment than even a Daedra would think cruel." The Listener hissed and the Guardian silenced himself and moved as told.
Thus, the Listener walked to find another of his servants, who is no doubt here as well.