Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5543592-20150812154412/@comment-5583506-20150817173652

Dawnstar was deteroriating. It could be said about many cities and settlements located so far up north, but in Dawnstar's case it was the truth. The current population estimated to be around fourteen people, whereupon half of them had planned to leave the place as soon as they could. One of the main incomes had been through fishing, but since the Sea of Ghosts had begun to freeze over that was no longer a possibility. Even the ships had the boats had gotten stuck into the thick sheets of ice. The wind whipped hard against the northern coasts, rendering it almost impossible to leave the safety and the warmth of the house before succumbing to the cold one hour later.

The weather conditions had claimed many lives that way. Not only to hypothermia. People were unable to go out in order to restock their food storages and so slowly starved to death or fell to sickness.

Yet in the blur of the snowy desert two dark figures distinguished themselves from the everlasting blizzards. They wore robes black as night and padded with bear fur to keep themselves warm. They couldn't allow the cold to get the better of them, not now when they were so close. They had been reading through all the ancient documents regarding the mythic Sanctuary. They felt like they were close. According to the lore it had to be in the vicinity. It had to be around here!

Once they finally managed to make it out to the foreland of Dawnstar they examined the snowy slopes of a nearby cliffside. Just according to what the documents had described, they found a door. A gate leading them to the destination which had been lying there and waiting dormant in the darkness for centuries. The door was darker than the darkness itself and with a jawless skull carved into the unknown material. They tried to open it, but the sheer weigh prevented any movement.

They both flinched as a disembodied and icy voice asked them: What is the bane of reality?

They weren't scared. They had read this sort of thing from the documents. But neither had they expected such dark magics to still be at work. And so they replied: Sithis, my brother...

And the door swung open like as if it was made from the lightest of material. They looked at each other and smirked. The documents had told the truth. This was indeed the supposed lost Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary of Dawnstar. It had become more of a legend which told of how the last Sanctuary of the children of Sithis was supposed to have been located somewhere far away in the northern reaches of Skyrim.

They lit their torches with much effort. The frostbite made them shake erratically and the wood wouldn't simply catch fire. But after some tries, the torches eventually gave in and spread their lights all over the path ahead of them. It was very dark and very cold. It felt as if they were entering a tomb rather than a Sanctuary, and perhaps that was the truth. There weren't many members left. Or rather they didn't know. For all they knew they could very well be the last. They descended down the grey steps of a stair, carved directly into the cliffside and spiraling down into an abyss of forgotten hallways. This was indeed the place. The walls were decorated with unmentionable horrors associated with the Dread Father. Yet no trace remained of the Night Mother. Her existance and everything related to her had fallen into a blurry memory, and now only Sithis remained.

Their path lead them into a great ante-chamber. In front of them was a sarcophagus, just as the documents described. They hurried to its side with the tools they had packed for their pilgrimage. Their price was lying within it. They were so excited they could barely adjust the strength they put on their hatchets and crowbars. They were also a bit nervous that the tools would break from the frost, but eventually the lid cracked open and crashed to the side, almost crushing a foot.

They peered down as the dust settled. Inside the sarcophagus was a man in black robes. Just as their own. Despite having been lying buried for centuries age hadn't touched him. He looked as well preserved as if he was only sleeping and had been waiting for someone to open up his resting place.

Then his eyes flew open... and they were filled with an unquenched malice...