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After Oblivion: Adventures of a Dark Elf	By : Syentaru Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Oblivion Views: 13978 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the Elder Scrolls series. All rights and credit goes to Bethesda. I make no money from this fanfiction, this is purely for entertainment. Please rate and comment, and critiquing is encouraged!

Chapter List
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Once she was back at the Waterfront, she headed straight to Dareloth’s Garden, intent on checking in with the operatives that would no doubt have news of new commissions, or lack there of. She hoped that someone would have new jobs for her, as the Fighters Guild and Mages Guild were both running dry of real work for her of late. She squared her shoulders and walked confidently through the door, an optimistic smile on her face as she greeted the top thieves of her guild, all trusted associates that upheld the guild’s rules, and had a deep respect for their leader.
      “Anything to report, Armand?” she asked the redguard standing over a few maps.
      “Nothing besides the usual, I needed to bail out a few of our wayward ‘practitioners’ who couldn’t seem to keep a low profile while on the job,” the man said, smiling grimly at her and showing her the torn up arrest warrants that he had paid the magistrate to take care of. Gwen knew who he was talking about, and would have to speak to the three thieves in private. They were probably laying low now, after having run-ins with the guards, but she couldn’t let thieves as unskilled as the three newbies go unattended. She would either take their training into her own hands, or have to let them go to join another guild elsewhere or get them work in the city with the many connections she had.
      “Well, if that is all,” she said, picking up an apple to shine before leaving them for the evening, “then shadow hide you, and happy hunting.” She smiled and took a bite of her apple. Each of her most trusted associates knew what jobs they were responsible for, and none of them enjoyed long meetings. Armand Christophe was initiating a few new candidates that very evening, and the other two had either a commission to work on, or were casing the castles or other high profile areas to update the maps that the guild kept for the riskier, more profitable missions.
      Gwen decided to talk to a few of her contacts in the Market District to see if there were any exciting news or rumors being spread. She took the ten minute stroll around the outer wall of the city, then slipped through the tall, reinforced doors that led to the most popular shopping district in the Nibenay Valley. She had finished her apple by then and, tossing it into the nearest waste bin, began to walk purposefully towards the Gilded Carafe, as the proprietor was always friendly and had the most up to date stories.
      When she turned a corner down her favorite, out of the way alley, however, a horrible scene awaited the Master Thief’s eyes. A young boy, who looked to be in his mid-teens, was having a dispute with one of the city watchmen. The guard was only doing his job, trying to apprehend the unskilled pilferer, but Gwen, being the leader of the thieves of Cyrodiil, could not let justice be had for whichever shopkeeper had been wronged.
      She assessed the situation immediately. The boy was running down the alley towards her, a pendant in his hand. He had obviously attempted to steal jewelry from the shop down the street from the Gilded Carafe, and been seen by the ever vigilant keeper of that business. The guard had caught up to the boy, his attention fully focused on the youth that struggled to get away but was no match for the older, well built man.
“Halt thief!” the guard said, grabbing the adolescent’s arm, his hand still clutching the stolen object. The young man whirled and produced a dagger from his free hand, which was not a smart move in any sense, Gwen thought. The blade was soon wrestled away by the adept watchman, his gauntleted hand removing it with ease. “You are under arrest for theft and assault on a member of the Imperial Watch. You will come quietly and hand over any other stolen goods and serve your sentence, or pay the fine,” the guard said, although he knew a street urchin that would risk everything on one failed attempt had no money to speak of.
      “Let me go! I didn’t take nothin’ that would be missed,” the boy said, flailing in the older man’s grip.
      Gwen took that moment to take action, having witnessed enough of the scene taking place before her. She slipped a gray cowl out of the purse at her waist. It was small in size, fitting snugly over her head and was nondescript, despite the enchantment placed upon it by Nocturnal hundreds of years before. The artifact was the old Gray Fox’s signature mask, the cowl that he had worn when operating as leader of the guild, and he had passed it on to the young dark elf before retiring to his home in Anvil. Once the hood was completely concealing her features, the guard lost all interest in the boy standing in front of him.
      “You!” the man said, disengaging himself from the thief and walking sternly up to her. He was head and shoulders taller than her, but it did not frighten the young woman in the least. “You’re the Gray Fox. You’re wanted for, well, for everything! I’m going to make captain for this!” the man said, unsheathing his sword and aiming it for the girl’s chest.
      Gwen had taken up a casual stance in front of the man, arms crossed in front of her, her legs spread easily, comfortably distributing her weight. When the man tried to strike her, however, she lithely stepped aside, unsheathing her own sword and blocking his, whipping off the cowl and shouting, “I yield!”
      The guard looked around confused for a moment, but put away his weapon, saying, “I apologize, citizen, but I could have sworn—no, it couldn’t have been. Good day, citizen, and keep safe, with all of the riffraff roaming the streets these days.” He glanced back down alley, suddenly remembering the lad with the stolen pendant. The man had a shocked look on his face and looked at Gwen, frantically asking, “have you seen a boy running down this way? He is wanted in connection with a crime at the local jeweler’s.”
      Gwen didn’t enjoy lying directly to a guard, after all, he was just doing his job, but she shook her head saying, “No sir, I haven’t seen a boy running down here, it’s just you and me. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she said, slipping past him and leaving him slightly bewildered. What she had said was not entirely a lie. The teenager was no boy, and he was not running, he was hurtling himself full-tilt down the alley in an attempt to evade the guardsman. Gwen had to find him soon, before he got too far and thought his freelance thieving was a good way to start, or continue, earning a living for himself. Luckily for her, he would have no memory that she was the new Gray Fox, just like the poor soldier.
      She had an idea where he might hide, and headed for the small gardens that lined the backs of the shops. She saw a flash of dusty brown hair duck into some of the bushes and made her way towards him. When he caught sight of her, he tried to bolt, but was trapped in by walls behind and beside him, the Master Thief standing directly in front of the exit to the small area.
      “You! You saw me in the alley with the guard. You’re not here to arrest me too, are you?” the young imperial asked fearfully, his eyes darting past her to the opening of the flower patch.
      Gwen smiled warmly, looking down at him with kindness in her eyes. “No, there is no need to worry, I am not part of the illustrious Imperial Watch. I am just an onlooker who wished to help. I think there is a group of people in this city who would like very much to help you, young thief,” the dark elf said gently, offering her hand to him. When the boy didn’t take it she said, “Please, come with me, I know of a safe place where we can get your arrest warrant taken care of. I personally know Armand Christophe, the man who can take care of your troubles.” At the mention of her second-in-command’s name the boy’s ears perked up and he regarded her seriously for a moment.
      “How can I trust you? This could be a trap set by the Watch to take me in,” the boy said, his hand still clutching the pendant tightly. Gwen took a closer look at him, seeing the rags he was dressed in, then realized his build placed him at slightly older, not a teenager, but a young adult, probably nineteen years or so. His eyes were piercing and intelligent, and he seemed educated, but it looked as though formal schooling didn’t suit the young man.
      “If this were a trap, I wouldn’t be able to summon the Gray Fox here, now would I?” Gwen asked, knowing her new tactic of recruitment was very risky. She would have to act fast once she had placed the cowl on her head, since the Watch seemed to know exactly when and where she was while wearing it. Before the boy could protest or call her ridiculous, the cowl was on, transforming her before his eyes once again.
      “It’s, it’s the Gray Fox!” the boy said, standing up and bowing respectfully before her. “How—where did you come from?” Gwen had to stop herself from laughing at this bit, since the cowl was enchanted to keep her identity entirely separate from the Fox, no matter where she was when putting on the mask.
      “No time for questions, young man,” Gwen said, her own voice altered slightly, “you must listen to my dark elf agent, Gwen. She will lead you to safety and a better life, if you are willing to accept it. The guards will be here soon, so let her place a chameleon spell on both of you. You will be out of here and at the thieves’ den in no time,” she said, and quickly tore the hood from her head and cast chameleon on the two of them just as the guards rounded the corner to their small hiding place.
      “But how?” the young man motioned with his lips and body language. Gwen just shook her head and placed a finger to her lips, ordering him to be silent, then nodded her head towards the opening of the flower patch. The thieves quickly made their way to Dareloth’s Garden, where Gwen let them in to the first floor room, shutting the door firmly behind her while the spell wore off.
      “Now that we are out of that spot of trouble, let me formally welcome you to the House of Dareloth, formal hideout and headquarters of the Thieves Guild of Cyrodiil. My name is Gwen, and you are?” she asked, holding out her hand to the Imperial.
      “I am Martin Harwain,” the boy said, taking her hand and shaking it respectfully. “Thank you, for rescuing me back there,” he said, grinning sheepishly. “I’m sure, given more time, I could have handled the situation,” he said, sweeping his bangs back from his brow. Ah, Gwen thought ruefully, another arrogant, confident young punk we have here.
      “Be that as it may,” Gwen said, ignoring his casual stance in front of her, now that they were out of danger, “I need to introduce you to Armand, who will induct you into our guild, if you’re interested in joining. We don’t take kindly to independent, petty thievery,” she finished, looking pointedly at the necklace.
      He saw her gaze and jerked it back towards himself protectively, as if she’d forcefully take it from him. “I stole this fair and square so it’s mine, got it, dark elf?” he said, trying to sound affronted, but his stature diminished with the look the woman gave him in return for his crude demeanor towards her.
      Before Gwen could give her response, however, Armand was there, standing at his guild master’s side with a comforting, supportive hand placed on her shoulder. “I heard raised voices in here, so I thought I’d check in on the situation,” he said, his deep baritone resonating around the small room. His gaze flicked between the two of them before he said, “I am ready to initiate the new members tonight, Master Thief, and it would be an honor if you would come speak to them in person,” the redguard said, noticing the effect his comment had on the young Imperial that had been verbally confronting his very capable leader. “We’ll be waiting outside for you, Master Gwen,” he stated, turning on his heel and giving the brash youth a calculating stare before exiting the building.
      “I—I didn’t realize,” Martin said, looking down at his feet.
      “I know,” Gwen said, glad that the boy would finally listen to her. She didn’t like flouting her position in front of newcomers, but Armand always knew when it was necessary. “Now, you are allowed to sell any goods you steal with our fences, men and women you won’t have access to if you go freelance. You don’t have to give us a cut, that’s the fence’s job once they sell it for a high price. And we also frown upon negligently stealing from well-to-do shopkeepers in our own esteemed Market District. That’s how most thieves make a living, but we don’t do it in light of day, or to proprietors who are on good terms with most of the members. I’ll let it slide this time, since I can replace what was stolen with relative ease, but I won’t allow it in the future. You’ll get a list of businesses that can be relieved of some of their goods, and that’s usually basement fodder that we help clean out for them. Most of the shopkeepers seem to forget it’s there anyway,” the dark elf said, shaking her head with disgust. “Now, why don’t we go outside and you can formally join us? If you want to make use of the guild perks, that is, and get rid of the bounty that is still on your head,” she stated, reminding him of the reason he had followed her in the first place.
      “Oh, y-yes Master Thief,” Martin said, still a bit shaken by his situation. He had just turned eighteen the previous month, and his life had been hard when he had tried to make his own fortune, moving away from Skingrad to enjoy the supposed “good life” that the people of the capital were purported to have. The young man had anything but an easy time upon arriving at the Imperial City, where jobs were hard to come by for someone of his talents. No one seemed to need the services of a marksman, or a fletcher. Many of the adventurers there favored the heavier armor and weapon types, shunning his beloved bow skills. He couldn’t even get a job as a security guard for the richer nobles in the Elven Gardens and Temple Districts. He had used his agile body and nimble fingers for stealing when his small sum of money had run out. He knew such acts were beneath him, but it had provided a thrill of adventure that he felt was missing from his life, as well as food for another week. If he could live with that excitement and channel that energy towards a path that helped others, so much the better for him. “I would like to join the Thieves Guild. I can’t keep living like this. I was not born a beggar. I just want to make a difference,” he said, hanging his head and saying the words Gwen needed to hear.
      “It will be done then, Martin,” she said, smiling at him and putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Come with me to see the new thieves, and Armand will take care of you from there. I look forward to working with you in the future.”
      “Um, I do have one more question, Master Thief,” Martin began hesitantly. When the woman turned calmly toward him he continued, “what if I choose to leave the Thieves Guild, make an honest go of it?” He waited with baited breath for her answer, knowing the horrible tales of people who tried to walk away from the seedier jobs of Tamriel.
      “There is no problem with that if you do, but you will be made to swear an oath that you will never, ever, tell any guards of what you saw or heard as a member here,” the young woman replied sternly, looking the young man straight in the eyes. “The oath is tainted with magic, so you will technically be unable to utter a word of your experiences to anyone who would do the guild harm, meaning serving members of the Watch, or leading officials and politicians. There is no need to worry about anything else, once you are gone from us, you may do as you please. What do you think we are anyway? The Dark Brotherhood?” Gwen laughed congenially but the name of the sinister group made both of them shudder slightly, even though Gwen held a high position with the ill-fated “assassin’s guild”. She had not enjoyed most of the work done with them, but she never would have met Shadowmere, her trusty mount, if she had abstained from broadening her horizons. She hadn’t taken any names to her new underlings, people who would kill “marked” men and women for the Night Mother, and for her. She had even effectively put an end to their activity, for the moment anyway, because as long as she held her position and no new chapters opened up, there would be no chance for the wanton killing and sacrifices to begin again. “Now, with that settled, shall we get going?”
      They both walked out the door, right into the garden where Christophe was giving his initiation speech. When he saw them he motioned both over, bowing respectfully to Gwen, the others mimicking him.
      Her speech was quick, filled with the rules of the guild and her hopes for a better future and the guild’s necessity to decrease its intake every year, only taking commissions that didn’t hurt the good, law abiding people of Cyrodiil. “Shadow hide you,” she finished, leaving Armand to deal with them for the rest of the evening. She retired to bed shortly after, seeing that her paperwork was taken care of. It had been another day well spent, but she still wished for a more eventful tomorrow.
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After Oblivion: Adventures of a Dark Elf