Black Wolf (Luke Minhere Story)

Krist

The handsome rogue stood on the top deck of the ship, looking out over the Daggerfall docks. The workers were already unloading cargo, but only a small percentage of it was actually his. That small percentage, however, was worth more than most of the rest put together.
"Master Minhere," Captain Orin said as he passed by Luke, giving a smile and nod.
Luke did not respond, and truth be told was not expected to. It was a good day, and he could not help but smile at how well this shipment went. His fortune had grown quite a bit since he was a scrounger on the streets of the Imperial City, but this was indeed one of his biggest hauls yet.
Imperial silk, which was not welcomed in Glenumbra by the ruling class, as they were shunning anything of the empire right now, but was well received by the wealthy. No dock worker or dock boss would have any idea what was in the crates, and a look inside would only reveal cloth of some unknown, and little interest, origin. They looked for carvings, golden doubloons, and even liqueur, but the ruffians that did look had no eye for the finest thing in the world, good cloth.
"You look too happy to be a pirate," Marcy said, walking up beside him.
"Smuggler," he said low, the smile never leaving his face.
"What?"
"I am a smuggler, dear, not a pirate. I bought this fare and square, it's value is based on the fact that it is not welcomed here."
Marcy just rolled her eyes, but remained by his side. She was one of his paid body guards, well paid at that. However, in the months that she worked for him, she came to actually like the rogue, and became one of only two people that Luke trusted completely. Also remained one of the few of his female confidants that he had not bedded.
Marcy looked him over out the corner of her eye, as he watched the shipment intently, and watched the dock guards look through them, spot checking for anything out of order that they could report back to commerce. He wore a black top hat, but always tilted a bit low in the front. His clothes were always fine and fitted, being a tailor of some sort, she knew it was a part of his trade. While he could not be considered a fancy man, he was a well dressed man. Never loud colors, always darker colors against a white under shirt.
When Luke saw the inspectors had passed by his own couple of crates, one being looked in and left with no interest, he looked over to his guard, his interest no longer in the shipment.
"Is Brin about," Luke asked, smiling handsomely at her now, his full attention on her.
"He is sleeping, he stayed up all night until we docked," she said, and leaned on the rail as she watched the dock workers scramble to receive the goods coming off of the Black Wolf. The good captain seemed to fuss and argue and fuss some more about how they should go easy with the crates. How the shipments were not their dock *** to be handled as such, and other insults. It was expected of captains, and the dock workers hardly paid him mind.
"Let him sleep then," Luke said, " I have a tavern to attend. You need not come if you wish get some rest."
"No sir, I will come with you. I need a drink, and someone needs to watch over you. You tend to get in trouble otherwise," she said, but her tone had no humor in it.
This just made the rogue tailor chuckle, causing Marcy to roll her eyes again, something she did often around her boss.

Krist

((Writer's note: Comments, suggestions, and critique welcomed. I don't shy away from it, and I won't argue about it. The audience cannot be wrong, they can only see it how they see it. Just keep in mind it goes directly from my brain to here. Any editing is done after post, as I critique it myself, so you will probably find some mistakes, like hall instead of haul, as I found earlier. If it aint underlined red as I write it, I will probably miss it.
I don't know how any of this will turn out. There is no sure ending, only a basis in my brain, so join me on this journey with Luke Minhere and company. I have always enjoyed writing about Luke, and ESO has given a well done back drop for him. More than any of this, I pray you like and enjoy it.))

Krist

Daggerfall is split into four districts. South of the river lies the Trade District, north of the river, the Castle Town contains the city stables, Fighters and Mages Guild halls, the Daggerfall Mill, an inn, and a number of private residences. In the northwest lies the Harbor District. To the west sits Castle Daggerfall, home of King Casimir. South of the city lies another, less used, dock.

Luke gave his large Nord captain his orders, which were very few. Captain Orin knew the ship and knew the docks and what was needed on and from the docks better than Luke. He even knew the people as well as Luke, or almost as well. Ships and docks were the captain's business, where as it was only a means to an end for the rogue tailor. Luke owned the ship, but offered little demands of his captain. He was a ship owner, quite by accident, but he was not a sailor, and had no desire to be.

Luke met Marcy on the dock, who was arguing with someone over some wares they were trying to sell. She and Brin were his body guards, both just happened to be Redguard of Hammerfell, that he hired at different times. Marcy was dark of skin, and kept her hair in corn rows that hung to her shoulder in small braids. She appeared to be all Redguard, dark of skin and hair, where as Brin looked like he was not. Marcy was an inch or two taller than Luke, well muscled, with a serious face. Luke did not consider Marcy a pretty lady, but she also was not ugly. She was unique, of that Luke could say definitively. Brin, who was now Marcy's lover, was much lighter of skin than she was. He had the strong jaw and cheek line of a Redguard, but his hair was as fine as Luke's, and his eyes were green, where as Marcy's was a dark brown. Brin was the same height as Marcy, but very broad and well muscled. They were an intimidating pair, to say the least.
"What did you buy from him," Luke asked, as the man seemed to scuttle away quickly. Marcy almost laughed, seeing that Luke had chosen a walking stick quite carefully. He had three, all with golden, decorated heads. One of a lion head, another of an eagle head, and the other with a dragon head. Which he carried depended precisely on where he was. He said it was to avoid an incident as what occurred a few years back in Morrowind.
"Nothing, he was trying to sell me a copper worth of trinket for two gold," she replied, insuring she was saying it loud enough so that the would be merchant could hear, as well as anyone else around the dock.
"Where are we going, the Rosy Lion," Marcy finally asked, looking to Luke now.
"Nope," Luke said simply with a smile, and began walking. Marcy rolled her eyes, and followed, reminding herself that he did not ask for her to come along, so she could leave him to whatever flirtations he was involved in whenever she wanted.

The Hole in the Ground tavern was not really in the ground, though one may think they would fall through to the ground once inside. It was a small building near the southern docks, located in a more poverty stricken area of Daggerfall. You would never find it on a map, for many reasons, but the main reason would be that it was not always open. The owner, a small nervous man with some kind of skin disease that caused him to have bumps everywhere, did not always open the place for business. The tavern would be open for a few weeks, sometimes a few months, but then shut down without warning. Oh, he never missed a festival, nor a weekend that Daggerfall was, for some reason or another, packed, but you may find yourselves enjoying a jolly night out for little coin one night, and not even hardly able to tell which building was the tavern you patronized the next.
Marcy followed Luke in, and decided she wished she had stayed on the Black Wolf. It was a poorly lit place, dirty windows offering what little light they could. Marcy recognized some of the girls to be prostitutes, probably dockside prostitutes that enjoyed when the establishment was open, as a place to hang out. These were not like the *** that frequented the northern part of the city, or escorts as they liked to be called. They were not as expensive, and bedding them was like placing an even bet on your health.
"Luke," the barmaid said as he entered. She was different than the others. She was dressed well enough, and looked quite healthy. Very healthy, by Luke's standards. She wore an orange shirt under a black vest. Both items of clothing appeared to be doing it's best to hold her chest in, and seemed to be barely winning the battle.
"Henrietta," Luke said with a handsome smile, removing his hat and placing it on the bar, as well as leaning his walking stick. The sudden conversation brought the eyes of the women and the quietly drinking men their way, but only briefly. The other patrons went back to their gloomy activities soon enough.
"So what brings a scoundrel like you into a fine establishment like this," the barmaid asked, chuckling ever slightly. "Haven't seen you in over a year."
"Too true, the last I was through here you were shut down," Luke said.
The small talk was more than Marcy could stand, so she ordered apple cider and found her own seat, where she could watch Luke and the door, and leave her boss to his business. It was not that Luke cared if she stayed and joined in the conversation or not, it was that she really had no desire to hear it. That was not her business, her only business was to keep Luke safe, and safe she always kept him. She paid little mind to the giggling and laughing of the two, as he bought shots for them.

"So who is the woman," Henrietta asked, nodding over to Marcy who was acting as if she was paying them no mind.
Luke looked over to Marcy. She stood out in this place. Not because of her dress, because he stood out for that, but because of how she carried herself. Marcy sipped a shot of liqueur that he had bought her, holding the glass with her left hand, while the right hand dangled casually off the table, a mere inch from where the hilt of her short sword was.
"She is an employee, actually," Luke said. If Marcy heard him, she made no sign. Marcy always insisted she was not his employee, but that he was her client. There was a difference. Luke could not say exactly what that difference was, but he understood the intent of it. She even got Brin to calling him a client, though he "messed up" and called him boss more often than not.
"I was going to say, from the looks of her, you had best keep your hands off. I think any man would come back with a nub if they touched her, and not just a nubby hand," Henrietta said low so Marcy could not hear.
Luke looked to Henrietta and was about to explain that Marcy had a man that she let touch her quite often, but let it drop instead, and just nodded. Marcy would not care about her reputation of whether she liked men or not, and Luke saw no reason to defend it.
It was at this time that Luke watched two men enter, the very reason why he came to such an establishment. It was not by luck either, though the two had no idea.
The larger of the two men, Luke knew only as Duck, had walked in first. He was a mean looking man, looking to be some kind of cross between the large build of a Nord with the face of a Breton. He had a scar down one cheek that went all the way to his neck. He only had a long dagger in his belt, and Luke knew him to prefer fist to cuffs over knives.
Duck appeared to be the more intimidating of the two, but Luke knew the skinny dark elf behind him was the more dangerous. Razor Ralvel, as he was called, was cautious and shifty. He was known to cut throat a sleeping man, or woman, if the price was right. Ralvel had two daggers, both sheathed on his left side, that were always razor sharp.
Luke knew them, but they did not know the rogue.
"Henrietta, set us up with ale," Duck called a few stools down from Luke. Henrietta frowned only slightly, obviously not liking the two much, but did as she was bid. She served them, and returned to Luke and their conversation.
"Henrietta, another ale," Duck called with a smile, obviously not finished with his first, but not liking the attention being shown to the well dressed, handsome patron. "You can give the fancy pants a shot of liqueur, on me, and send him on his way."
Luke saw Marcy move, but caught her eye immediately. With hardly a movement of his head she knew he wanted her to stay out of it.
"Settle down Duck, he aint doing nothing to you," Henrietta said. "Razor, keep him under control."
That seemed to anger Duck, and brought only a grunt from the dark elf, as Henrietta placed another mug of ale on the counter. She then poured a shot for Luke, and brought it to him.
"I am sorry sugar, but I guess you best drink this and go. Duck is in a mood," she said loud enough for him to her, "Duck is always in a mood."
"You bet I am," was all Duck said, then went back to talking to the Dunmer.
Luke drank the whiskey down as Henrietta walked over to the other two. While she preferred the handsome man's company, she knew it would only anger Duck more. Luke was too pretty to see him pounded by the brute.
She was listening to the two talk about some job they had done, in a code that an adolescent could crack, when the shot glass came sliding down the bar and struck Duck's mug, sloshing his ale a bit. All three of them looked over to Luke, who looked back with the most handsome and friendly of smiles.
"I don't suppose I will be leaving just yet, but I thank you for the drink all the same," he said, to the great displeasure of Duck.

Krist

Duck was used to be respected. Those that knew him knew he was a bruiser who had no problem beating a man, or even a woman, to a pulp, if needed. Duck decided when it was needed. It was true, he was not known as a killer, but most suspected he had killed before none the less. Duck would always deny it, but with a nasty smile when he did.
It was based on this reputation that Duck knew he could not just let the fancy pants get away with such an insult. He was not so dull that he did not realize it was he, not the pretty man, that picked the fight. Still, he didn't quarrel over such in his mind. Disrespect was disrespect, and Duck could not abide disrespect.
"You pretty headed little fancy pants types just love to come in here and think you run something," he said with a snarl, getting himself worked up for the fight, though probably not much of one, that was about to happen. He now stood closer to Luke, not yet striking him, but if the fancy pants did not turn and leave, he would.
"I am a pretty head, that is true, but you are a pin head," Luke said, that handsome smile still on his face as he said it. Duck was taken back a little with this, as men either coward or bellowed their own anger back, but never just stood and smiled at him. He also was not sure what a "pin head" was, but he reasoned it was an insult all the same.

Luke ducked the swing that was inevitably coming. It made a swishing noise as it went over him, and Luke understood why the man was a bruiser, and so sure of his own fighting skills. Had that connected, Marcy would have had to carry her boss, or client, back to their ship and hope he would wake up.
Luke took a pugilist stance, and began to bob with his left hand slightly out further than his right. Duck looked a bit confused at this, and chuckled ever slightly, surely the fancy man was joking. He raised his own fists and was going to swing again when Luke's left knuckles connected with his nose, sending pain even into his eyes. Duck swung again, but caught only air again, as the fancy man did a fancy dance, and was out of his reach.
"Now this has to be embarrassing for you," Luke said to the bigger man, never losing his smile. Duck sneered, and was set on connecting with one mighty shot, but Luke only bobbed away from it, and hit him in the eye.
This same dance of mighty swings from Duck, missing, and quick jabs from Luke hitting their mark, went on for a moment more. Duck was getting out of breath. Luke had to admire that while he was striking the man with hits that could have knocked other men out, Duck took them and kept coming back.
Duck had enough of it though, and rushed at Luke, while pulling his long knife from it's sheath. Luke spun and tripped the bruiser, grabbing his walking stick from where it leaned on the bar. He pulled the golden lion head free from the walking stick, with a long, very sharp, steel blade attached to it.
Duck tossed his long knife away, and looked passed the rogue for his buddy, Razor. Razor just stood there, his own knives on the floor, with a short sword to his throat. The big Redguard woman standing there with no amusement what-so-ever on her face.
Luke never looked back. It was assumed that Marcy would do her job, and do her job better than any he knew, maybe even better than Brin. Instead he sheathed the blade back into the walking stick, his smile now leaving his face as he looked down at the brute. Luke didn't say anything for a moment, Duck looking back and forth from Marcy to Luke, his left eye now swelling up and blood trickling out of his nose.
"I was trained to fight by a ring fighter," Luke finally said, tossing a kerchief to the man so he could wipe his nose. "You are not losing your touch, you could have taken my head off, so please, do not feel ashamed. When you pulled your long knife, by all witnesses account, I could have killed you. I did not. I want instead for you to tell your boss, Master Hawkham I think he is called, that I require a meeting with him. My name is Luke Minhere. He will recognize it."
Duck was about to deny knowing what the rogue was talking about, but knew it was useless.
"You could have just asked me," Duck finally said.
"Would you have passed a message from some fancy pants to him?"
"No, I reckon not."
"Will you now?" the rogue asked, a slight smile returning to his face.
"I suppose I will," Duck said, and let out his own slight chuckle.
"I will be on the Black Wolf, awaiting his response. If he sends anything more than a response, let him know, it will not end well at all, not for the ones he sends, and not for him."
"Bedistair Hawkham is not a man to be trifled with," Henrietta said from behind the bar.
Luke looked about and noticed that all of the patrons had left. He reached into his breast pocket pulling out a coin purse, and tossed it to Henrietta, flashing her a handsome smile.
"For the troubles, and the loss of customers," he said, grabbing his hat, turning about, and walking to the door. He stopped just before exiting and looked back in. Duck was still on the floor, and Razor was standing away from his knives, his hands still slightly up.
"Top of the morning," Luke said, tipping his hat brim ever slightly, and leaving the establishment, the Redguard following closely behind.

Akaviri

I like this story, Krist!
Please keep writing.

Krist

In the northwest is the Harbor District which contain the main docks of Daggerfall, while Castle Daggerfall overlooks the city on a hill in the west of the city.

"You could have warned me you would be pulling that stunt," Marcy said, once they were on the ship again. Brin just leaned against the main mast listening as Marcy scolded the boss. Client. Apparently Luke had been hearing it all the way back from wherever they had went.
"I had no idea what I was going to do, as I told you, so how could I warn you about something I did not know myself was going to happen," Luke said, a slight smile on his face. "I swear I was only going to get the information from Henrietta, and you could have joined me in that pleasure if you so wished but I highly doubted you would have wished."
Luke was infuriating at times to Marcy, as truly the only thing she wanted was to keep him safe. How would she look as a paid body guard if she let a client get killed in a shack of a tavern?
"I'm sure the boss had a plan," Brin said, looking to Marcy and hoping she did not get herself fired.
"How do you know what our CLIENT wanted, you were sound asleep," Marcy said, scoffing.
Brin began to explain that he was up all night insuring they docked well without incident, and even helping out with the docking procedures when he noticed Marcy was not even listening.
"As I said, I had no idea what I was going to do, so no, I did not exactly have a plan, I just knew Hawkham was mixed in with the place some how. Quite frankly I have no idea who he really is, only the name and some of his activities. Some of which involve shipping expensive items that folks don't want shipped." Luke grinned, and Marcy scoffed again, looking away.
"See, the bo....client had a plan," Brin said, satisfied with the explanation, paying no mind that Luke actually said he had no plan.
"See," Luke said, motioning to Brin.
Brin had worked with Luke for a much longer time than Marcy had, and Brin actually considered himself working FOR Luke, not some strange self employed agent/client deal like Marcy considered it. When Marcy first brought it all up, a few months after he had hired her, Luke suspected that it may be a ploy for Marcy to get more money. She even had him sign a 5 year contract. He would not have signed it except the salary was the same as he was already paying them, and had not increased in the least bit.
Luke was pretty sure of the exact time that Brin became Marcy's lover, because sure enough, there he was , signing another contract, this time for Brin. He showed the uncomfortable Brin some mercy though, and acted as if it was expected and he should have done it sooner, knowing that it was all Marcy's idea and that Brin probably was embarrassed about it.
Marcy let the conversation drop. It was pointless when the two were on the same page, no matter how utterly silly the page was.
"I guess we best keep a good eye out then for this Ham guy," Marcy said, letting out a sigh.
"Hawkham. I docked here, on the north docks, because his types have little reach here, and he will most unlikely bring his gang of brutes and cut throats passed the city guard." Luke walked over to the edge of ship, and looked over and down at the docks. "Most unlikely," he said with a handsome smile.

Krist

Akaviri wrote: »

I like this story, Krist!
Please keep writing.

Thank you very much!

Angelfire_Arisen

Well done. Luke comes across to me as very polished and charming, but also very keen. Exactly as I picture a handsome rogue to be. The picture suits him, can't help but like him.

Krist

Angelfire_Arisen wrote: »

Well done. Luke comes across to me as very polished and charming, but also very keen. Exactly as I picture a handsome rogue to be. The picture suits him, can't help but like him.

Thank you very much! Luke is an old character of mine, and I like him too, as odd as that sounds.