Shadow Striders

Just a free-writ story that popped into my head. More to come soon! (:

                The sun rose, dawdling in the twilight sky, its rays glimmering over Cyrondil’s southern border mountain, the God’s Peak. In my decades of travel, only Cyrondil’s beauty has ever spoken to me. The province of Cyrondil was covered by an azure blue sky in which the giant cedar trees, all abundant and full of life, covered the vast lands. Children were playing outside their homes devoid and tactless of fear. Its weather always perfect, with the exception of the raining season where harsh sheer winds would destroy not only crops but their farmer’s homes.  However, like in six of Sydonia’s eight provinces, it was plagued of ShadowStriders. These are the elite agents of the Syndicate, a guild of corruption lusting only for coin, sex, destruction and the thirst for blood.

                For ShadowStriders, the only code is the contract, and their honour purchased by coin. Free from the constraints of a conscience, these mercenaries rely on brutal and efficient tactics.  Lethal assassins and masters of stealth, they will approach their marks from behind piercing a vital organ with daggers covered by concoctions of various poison and toxic, then vanishing into the shadows before the victims hits the ground taking his loot and woman. These fiends, bought by the head of the Syndicate, traverse the lands seeking havoc and blood under the Syndicate banner.

                Not only enemy of Sydonia’s King, who governs the eight provinces; they are mortal enemies of the Silver Hand. This guild, known for bestowing justice and redemption, has been warring with Syndicate for generations, and many to come. As the centuries bypass me, their methods of murders have but amplified due to their dark forbidden powers, Magick. The execution of controlling dark matter infusing into dark beings, weapons or condensing its core structure to be something more destructive.  This is what they call Magick.

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                After my previous journey, I traversed to Kirkwall, a town far east of God’s Peak. The town of Kirkwall was separate by four distinct sectors, the High, Middle, Lower Sector and the Gallows. Only those of royalty, high status or minor lords would enter and reside in the High Sector. The Middle Sector belonged to the sword smiths and armour smiths, dojo trainers, carpenters, merchants and generally the cheaper alternative to what would be found in the High Sector live.  The Lower Sector, full of peasants and small food stands, held those of minority class and those lucky enough not to be thrown to the deep end of the Gallows. The Gallows was where the homeless beggars, pickpockets, guild rats and so on hid during the day time in the many old discarded buildings. Many call it hell itself and for those who are willing to enter, never return.

                Although the inn The Hanged Man was located in Middle Sector, it appeared to be more decent than those opposite, yet nothing more luxurious. The exterior still held the ancient architecture of Sydonia.  Entering, I noticed the peasants and their wives admiring my armour and watch in awe as I lift the cloth overhauling the door to enter.  One even stopped drinking and sat up straight, wiping the froth from his beard. Throughout Sydonia, the Silver Hand was the outmost respected Guild.  With a smile and a nod, they all returned to their tables. Everyone was soon conversing about the Silver Hand soon after, taking quick glimpses as I sat down. 

                Behind the front desk, a fair skinned woman was slicing fillets of black salmon. Her blonde hair caressed on her feminine back, her body shape almost flawless. She stopped to wash her hands and turned around, smiling at me her head slightly tilted.
                “Welcome sir! I’m honoured a Silver Hand like yourself would be in a place like this. Would you like to have to eat or drink? Our sashimi is best in the whole of Kirkwall!” she said kindly, as if we’ve known each other since childhood. Her face was petite, eyes wide and blue.  Famous only in Kirkwall skilled knifemen would prepare sashimi, cutting chunks of tuna or salmon with articulate precision on rice, plating it with elegance and beauty. She tilted her head again in question, waiting for my response. But my eyes were not on her, but instead the plate of sashimi behind her. My mouth watered as I was tempted to buy a plate myself. She noticed and couldn’t help but smiled. I turned back to look at her and swallowed.
                “Thanks but nothing for me. Do you have any vacant rooms however?”
                Laughing and scratching the back of her head, she replied “Thing is business here has been not so well lately. So my rooms are mostly empty these past seasons. They’re all yours for 68 Coin” trying not to be embarrassed.
                “Then I’ll pay you double for a single room” I stated as a dropped a small linen sack of coin in front of her. Shocked, she shook her head.
                “Oh no I couldn’t take such an offer like  ...”
                “Then shall I leave? I would believe other inns such as this one would take my kind offer” I asked, shrugging at her with mischievous grin across my face. Speechless, she stared then gave out a giggle. Smiling, she grabbed the coins and pointed towards the stairs.
                “Room 3B to the right. All light goes out at ten-thirty.” She then placed key, slightly rusted,  on the table. 
                “I never thought a noble Silver Hand like you would be so… fun” she giggled covering her pretty smile with her hand, her forearms pushing her breast upwards.  She then leant forward sliding a small oak plate of sashimi, exposing her cleavage clearly to me.
                “And this is just for you. If there is anything you need, just ask me okay?” she whispered. Her breath warm against my ear. 

                We chatted about small matters for the few hours or so. I told her stories of the Crusader War, Battle of Kings, and the conquest for liberation in Kylilia. And with each story she would gasp covering her mouth, cry or argue on why the conflict had started in the first place. And before I knew it, night had approached us. It was five-minutes before lights out and she had just finished placing the chairs atop the tables. Yawning and yearning for the comfort of a bed, I grabbed the key and headed up stairs.

                “Goodnight, oh-so handsome Alistair! Let’s talk again in the morning okay? Sashimi on the house if your extra early!” she yelled, inconsiderate of the other guests sleeping upstairs. I could still apprehend her giggling as I opened my door and fell onto the bed, unregarding the room’s quality.  Listening to the familiar sound of the cricket’s chirm, the moon’s rays slightly illuminating into the room through the bamboo padded ceiling, the comfort of the feather stuffed pillow and foam bed helped me rest peacefully without the fear of a Shadow Strider’s presence. 

 

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Author's Note

If there are any ideas I should implement or anything i should fix please feel free to say so (: