#db assassin

Some more art from my Cicero's Beginning fic :)

“Ah, here we are,” Cicero exclaimed, holding up a long strip of ribbon. “This shall do nicely. Cats do like to play, do they not? Cicero is going to play with you.” His voice dripped with malice as he waltzed back toward the feline. 

The khajiit’s instincts took over and he suddenly leapt away from the wall toward Cicero, but the jester was prepared. He ducked and the cat went soaring over him, crashing clumsily into a bookshelf and overturning several tankards and pots. The clatter rang out, but neither the khajiit nor Cicero recoiled. The khajiit stood and readied himself to pounce once more, his claws and teeth bared.

“Jo’jhan will not go down without a fight,” the khajiit advanced toward Cicero. “The jester may have caught Jo’jhan off guard, but this one is awake now and he is going to leave the jester as a pile of bloody rags before the end of this night.”

“Tsk, tsk!” Cicero chided, wagging a finger out in front of himself, briefly halting the khajiit’s impending attack. His malevolent smile had not faltered a bit with the khajiit’s sudden show of bravery. “The cat thinks Cicero is scared of a few scratches! Cicero will show you who will end in shreds.” His hand still held the ribbon, but dropped it in lieu of grabbing his other dagger. The familiar ring of metal unsheathing was music to Cicero’s ears.

The khajiit had had enough. He lunged toward Cicero once more, but the jester swung madly toward the khajiit, leaving deep gashes in the feline’s arms. Still, the cat was able to rake his claws down Cicero’s front before tearing away, his momentary burst of confidence dissolved with the formation of wounds on his forearms. 

Cicero did not acknowledge his injury. Instead he followed the khajiit, cornering him in an inescapable crevice between the wall and a bookcase. The khajiit realized his mistake too late, shrinking to the floor. Cicero placed a blade under each arm of the feline and drew the cat up from where he crouched. With a flick of the daggers he could easily render the cat armless, but Cicero was still enjoying the idea of playing with his victim. He nicked the furry flesh of his armpits just a bit as he removed the daggers.

“Going to have to do better than that, I’m afraid,” he instructed. “Pick up the ribbon.” 

The khajiit listened obediently and lifted the ribbon from the floor.

“Now tie your hands together,” Cicero continued. “Nice and tight.”

The khajiit snarled as he worked, winding the ribbon around his wrists. When he had sufficiently entangled himself in it, Cicero sheathed his daggers and snatched the loose ends of the ribbon, knotting them tightly.

“Thats good,” Cicero nodded approvingly. “Now tell me, how does a feline such as yourself find himself in a shack belonging to someone else?”

The khajiit looked defeated. “Jo’jhan is sorry he broke into the Imperial’s cabin. The land of Skyrim is very cold and khajiit are not acclimated to such cool temperatures. The promise of warmth drew this one in.”

Cicero narrowed his eyes at the khajiit but his smile returned. “Of course, of course,” he sang. “Dear Cicero would never leave a khajiit out in this cold!” The sing-songy voice gave the khajiit no comfort. It came off more threatening than anything. Cicero moved to the hearth and cast flames into the alcove. The partially-burned logs caught fire immediately.

“That’s better, isn’t it…was it Jo’jhan?” Cicero asked, leading the khajiit to a seat by the fire. 

“Yes,” the khajiit answered uneasily. The fire warmed his fur and he leaned toward it.

“Ah, ah,” Cicero tapped Jo’jhan on the shoulder gently, pulling him back against the back of the chair. He then looped some rope around the khajiit, securing him to the seat.

“What is the meaning of this?” Jo’jhan questioned. “Jo’jhan thought the Imperial was going to be friendly.”

“You did break into my shack,” Cicero pointed out. “Cicero feels that deserves some punishment.”

“What kind?” Jo’jhan was beginning to regret being subservient to the jester. He squirmed in the seat, but found Cicero had done a fine job of tying him up. “Jo’jhan will leave. The Imperial will never see this one again,” he offered. 

“Cicero only ever kills his victims, I’m afraid. One can’t just break a habit so easily, now can he?”

Cicero placed his dagger’s tip beneath the chin of the khajiit. He lifted Jo’jhan’s chin so the feline was looking him in the eye. The fear shone through and Cicero couldn’t help but smile again.

“I love this part,” he chuckled. He flicked his wrist and slashed downward, opening the khajiit’s chest and torso down to the tattered linen pants he wore. Instinctively the khajiit drew his hands to his chest, desperate to close the wound, but it was no use. With his hands bound, he could not even attempt to cast a healing spell. 

“Please,” Jo’jhan begged breathlessly. “Do not leave Jo’jhan here. This one was wrong to break in. A healing potion, please, and he will leave!”

“Oh, Jo’jhan won’t be alone,” Cicero comforted emptily. “Cicero’s pet is here!”

Cicero reached into his knapsack on a nearby table and drew out a wedge of cheese. He broke off a corner and crumbled it to the ground near a dark corner before tossing the remainder to the feet of the khajiit. From a large hole in the floor, a skeever emerged and began to consume the crumbles. When it finished it looked up to Cicero for more.