This is a short I wrote a while back, and was wondering if I should start it up again. Let me know

Chapter 1

The deed done, the figure in black sheathe the still bloody dagger. And turning from the dead eyed corps, walked away without looking back. The end of Baron Berch Selvidor's reign was met with cheers and celebration. The realm had one less evil Baron to suffer with, and a new hero watching over its people from the shadows.

And they all lived happily ever after.

What a load of horse ****.

Tossing the book on the bed I got up and looked out the window. Why do all stories end like that? I mean, who writes these things? Have they ever BEEN out in the real world? For once I would like to read a story where the hero gets knifed in an ally by a drunk begger. Now THATS a good story. Happily ever after? No such thing.

Don't look at me like that. Im entitled to my opinion.

I haven't had a good month, ok. Im a thief. Meaning I steal things for a living. Unfortunately, with the death of the Emperor, security in the Imperial city has gotten pretty tight. Making my job much harder.

So I've had to live on what I could get from the Waterfront. And considering the only people worth stealing from in the place are other thieves, I haven't been making much. Whores and beggars aren't exactly rich. And trust me, stealing from a thief is a bad idea, the guild will do more than cut of your hand. They are far more creative than the guard. Nasty doesn't even begin to describe.

So now I've had to resort to some very desperate measures. Honest work.

I feel so dirty.

And its all that damn Emperor Septims fault. The inconsiderate bastard had to go and get himself assassinated. Now I'm stuck working in a Brothel all night instead of out hunting the street like a proper thief.

Its rude to stare.

Its not what you think. Im more of a body guard. What? You don't think I could do it? You don't think a 5ft nothing, 100lb Breton girl can protect a group of 'girls' from a room full of drunken thugs? Well, let me tell you...your right. I've had to get rather...creative. There's more to the job than brute force.

I've found poison quite use full.

Pick your jaw up off the floor. Not the killing kind. More like the kind that puts you to sleep for a day or two. Or, if the guys a real Jack-Ass, the kind that cause impotence. Hey, After seeing what these thugs are capable of, I SHOULD kill them. Though than I'd have no income and nowhere to stay, even though the room was drafty and no matter how much you cleaned it still felt dirty, it was the best I was likely to get.

You see, Im a Breton, and Bretons are supposed to be natural magic users. Unfortunetly for me, my father was an imperial. And I take after him. I can cast a few small spells, I can open easy locks and move silver wear with a telekenisis spell, but other than that, i couldn't spellsling my way out of a swarm of bees.

A situation you had better pray your never in. I have scars in some very awkward places.

NO YOU CANNOT TAKE A LOOK!

Gods tell a person you live in a brothel and the first they do is ask if they ca- OH BLOODY HELL!

A woman screamed. And this was not the usual, 'Im actually rather bored, but I'm going to pretend I'm having the time of my life.' kind of scream. This was defiantly an 'I'm in unspeakable pain, and fear for my life.' kind of scream. And it repeated itself. It sounded....wet.


I burst out of my room and start running down the hall.


Once, just once, I'd like to have one night of peace. Why can't these drunks get it through their thick skulls, you hurt a girl, you get hurt back, twice as bad.

If I'm in a GOOD mood.

And right now, im in a bad mood. The scream repeated. It was coming from around the corner. There was only one room that way.

Make that a VERY bad mood.

That one room was Chawnee's. Or as we call her 'Nee'. She was the youngest of all the girls. She was also the most trusting of all of them. The girl would invite a starved wolf to dinner. And also, she was probably the only person I can call a friend. If you haven't noticed Im not the sociable type. Plus she had gotten me the job. Someone was going to pay.

I turned the corner and stopped dead in my tracks. There was a guard outside the door. Not a man guarding the door. An actual GUARD. Leather armor, shield, and short sword.

What the hell?

If this guy could afford a bloody body guard, why would he come to a mud hole like this?

Another scream. Oh yeah, the expensive girls don't stand for this kind of treatment. Here at Mara's House of Pleasure, we value your money more than our health.

Did I mention I hate this place? No?

Well I do.

A guard. How in the hell am I supposed to get past that? And i forgot my damn poisons in my room. No blow darts, no poisoned throwing knives, and I doubt I can flirt and giggle my way past him.

Ok Sandaril, think...no poison, one knife, and your wits. Been a while since you've used those huh?

Again the scream. This time it was choked off.

Screw it.

I ran around the corner and charged. Apparently, being charged by a 100lb redhead in cheap brown leather was more of a joke than a threat to Mr. Leathercladidiot. His mistake, in less than a second, I jumped at him, my feet met his face with a wet crunch. Lovely. Now I have to clean my boots.

When you dont have the tools you need, improvise. I pride myself on my ability to improvise. I bent over to make sure he wasn't going to get up and catch me from behind.

Wipe that smirk off your face.

He was out cold. Still, better sure than sorry. I kicked him in the face.

I tried the nob on the door. Unlocked...I guess he put a bit too much trust in his body guard. Maybe this would be easier than I thought.

I opened the door, and nearly retched.

Very good write, now finish it, don't leave us hanging.