> Sisters of Shadowmere
>  by Psycho Pwny
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> The Absence
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

|====[Sisters]====|
|==[of]==|
|========[Shadowmere:]========|




{The}-=-{Absence}



Darkness stirred silently within the Void as Shadowmere's figure was aroused by a commanding embrace. Sithis's will entangled the equine's mind as a purpose became pronounced.

"Shadowmere, beast most darkened and bright--The last sanctuary has fallen." The tone of the whispering patriarch was monotone and pierced Shadowmere's soul as the words gained meaning.

"Darkest Sithiss, creator, master, father--the time has come?"

"The time has come. A new sanctum will be composed through Mere actions. The honor of the dark family lies in Shadow."

"The Night Mother rests well?"

"The Night Mother is restless. Do what is willed and the rest will come"

"What do you will?"

"Daughters and sons of breathing flesh. A home free from pests. Souls to fill the silence of the Void."

"Sithis's will shall be Shadow's own."

With the purpose understood, the black absence began to give way to the woods of Falkreath and the now purged Dark Brotherhood sanctuary overshadowed any previous ambiance of comfort the forest once offered. 			Shadowmere's spirit filled with anxious anticipation from Sithis's expectations and swiftly faded into the bloodied entrance of the lost sanctum. The scent of death was usually received with gleeful euphoria, but the sight of Shadowmere's scarlet siblings dashed any possible joy. Various articles of value scattered the sanctuary as signs of struggles were abundant. The Dragonborn was the cause of it all and it was a miracle the warrior didn't pillage every item in favor of coin, which was a common trait associated with the warrior's famed reputation. Shadowmere praised the good fortune Sithis granted.

Frantic anger coursed through Shadowmere as sacred books, clothing, weapons, and other miscellaneous objects were gathered and placed in thick leather bags obtained just for the occasion. One precious artifact stood out amongst all others; the "Blade of Woe." The blade was a pinnacle of twisted steel and has been passed on to only the worthiest assassins for countless generations; to lose it would be to lose the spirit of the Dark Brotherhood. Astrid was the previous owner of the blade and slaughtered far from home. It must have been through Sithis's power the dagger escaped the Dragonborn's hoard.
Once the sanctuary was picked clean of all value, Sithis spoke to Shadowmere.

"Mere Shadow, new brothers and sisters stand far from recruitment in Skyrim. A new world separate from Nirn must be traversed. It will host Shadow's sanctuary until time deems return.

"How will Shadow venture to the new world?"

"Through the embrace of the Void."

And with those words, Shadowmere was received by Sithis's cold embrace and all senses drowned in black.

==

"Pinkie, now what's this talk I hear of a "monster soon to envelope Equestria" nonsense? Applebloom and her Crusader Friends won't stop their scared little muzzles from jabbering on about it and now all of Ponyville is in a panic! I can't sell mah overly rip apples before they go rotten if you keep ponies far from thinking about market produce."

"Oh, Applejack! It's just that my "Pinkie Sense" has been go, go, going crrrraaaazzzy~! I tried to not tell anypony why, but, *giggle* I can't stop bouncing! Wheeeee! I have been bouncing, and bouncing, and bouncing, and somepony was bound to ask why, because the trampoline broke hours ago!"

Applejack sighed. As entertaining as Pinkie's antics can be, they usually lead to huge consequences if left ignored. "Alright Pinkie, let me go get Twilight and the others..."

==

When Shadowmere awoke, the green forest of Falkreath was gone and was replaced by red ominous cliffs. Grains of delightful sand filled Shadowmere's nostrils and blistering heat akin to the realms of Oblivion assaulted the poor equine's coat. The luxuries the cold absence of the Void offered soon became apparent; however, Shadowmere refused to give into the temptation of returning, if only to avoid the wrath of Sithis.
Shadowmere trotted through the thick dust for days, or perhaps mere minutes, for the long stay in the absence of time experienced within the Void had dulled the poor creature's senses. The saddlebags soon became a burden and Shadowmere was suddenly reminded of a possible source of savior. Shadowmere shifted through the belongs, hoping to find a "resist fire" potion of some sort, but had to settle for a small vile of healing potion. Magical influence in the air was apparently strong, as the liquid contents of the potion almost immediately evaporated, leaving Shadowmere with an unpleasant chalky powder--serving as further mockery towards the equine's sandy predicament.
Regardless, the will of Sithis's words keep Shadowmere strong and night eventually offered relief from the heat. Although Shadowmere was fatigued, rest would have to come later as the threat of the Oblivion heat lingered. In the dark, Shadowmere was in the perfect element and kept up a gallop while the cold air brought abused senses back to life. Shadowmere's efforts paid off when a modest settlement was reached just as red twilight was dawning in the sky.

The buildings took after Hammerfell's rocky structures and signs of life became more pronounced as thick palm trees sheltered the town. Shadowmere tended to avoid entering settlements without an rider to claim ownership, as many nobles and bandits have vied countless treasures in order to obtain the equine; however, it soon became clear that the inhabitants weren't any sort of the humanoid races that populated Nirn. Creatures long deemed extinct, uncivilized, or under the exclusive rule of Gods were everywhere: griffons, chimeras, camels, buffaloes, giraffes, llamas, minotaurs, goats, diseased werewolves, odd-winged argonian dragons, and even horses like Shadowmere dotted the land.
After century after century of uneventful existence, Shadowmere was awed by this new land. Shadowmere's strange otherworldly appearance blended effortlessly into the diverse masses and creatures tended to only take notice for a moment due to the curious red daedra eyes that sometimes glanced their way.
The anxiety previously felt by Sithis's words evaporated as Shadowmere become content in the surroundings.

"This new world, perhaps sanctuary of my own has already been found...ahh, how interesting." Shadowmere spotted a group of brightly colored horses dressed in armor plating, dresses, and various jewelry--the horses in this new world were as civilized (and odd looking) as the humanoid races of Nirn! Without hesitation, Shadowmere trotted up to the huddled herd, edger to become apart of this new world as well as to gain directions.
> The Identity 
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

|====[Sisters]====|
|==[of]==|
|========[Shadowmere:]========|




{The}-=-{Identity}



The herd consisted of coats of peach white and copper wine, colors Shadowmere felt comfortable with, they were something familiar. Shadowmere expected to draw lots of attention from the horses due to sporting an odd botched black coat and daedric eyes, but their focus was instead directed elsewhere.
In the middle of the group was a tall slender palomino mare that walked with a sense of nobility and was dressed head to hooves in a purple abaya laced with red and orange ribbons. Her eyes were a sweet green---her coat and tail a sandy cream ale. Guards flanked the mare on all sides, all dressed in equally impressive regalia--it was now obvious a class of high royalty was present.
The herd parted into a path as the mare passed, careful to keep a respectful distance. When Shadowmere's red eyes gazed upon the mare, the princess gazed back. Shadowmere than knew this mare would either become a great enemy or ally.
Once the princess was lead away, the herd quickly diffused into individuals eager to get back to their previous activities--Shadowmere wasn't any different.

Although, general shops and other business weren't unusual sights to Shadowmere, actually interacting with them was a daunting task. The many riders Shadowmere had carried were often adapt traders and their hands would always happily handle coin. Seeing hooves do the same made Shadowmere realize the level of freedom Sithis had granted.

Shadowmere gingerly walked up to an unoccupied stall of oddities tended by a zebra mare.
"You have plenty of Sars,yes traveler?"

Shadowmere shifted in embarrassment, "Ahh no, what are these Sarsss...?"

The zebra bit her lip and sighed, "This country's currency you poor lost fool."

"I see. Would you perhaps be interested in purchasing my foreign wares? I wish to acquire some...Sarss."

The zebra bit her lip harder and sighed to show her hesitant interest, "Perhaps. Make me an offer."

Shadowmere shifted through the saddlebags. The majority of the items were priceless Brotherhood artifacts, but a useless "Potion of Resist Frost" quickly made it onto the stall counter.

The zebra eyed it suspiciously,"What is this? Poison?"

"No, it's a 'Potion of Resist Frost;' however, I may have a variety of poisons as well."

"In this weather? Crazy useless tourists... 3 sars!"

"Sold." If Shadowmere was getting ripped off, it didn't matter. Any amount of sars was better than the current zero.

The zebra then smirked and whispered, "You mentioned you may have poisons?"

==

The Oblivion heat eventually forced Shadowmere into a cold establishment--a bar by the smell of it. Various equines were seated at bar stools and Shadowmere followed their example. The experience was different, but not unwelcome.
A bartender turned his attention to Shadowmere, "What will it be?"
Shadowmere was momentarily distracted by his hooves cleaning a delicate glass,"....a drink that costs 3 sarss...please."
The bartender promptly walked away, leaving Shadowmere to analyze other hooves.

" You know, if you are going to bother yourself with a drink, it needs to be at least 7 sars." A deep green pony swished around his drink. "I personally recommend a 'Jacky J. Bubble on the Rocks.' That drinks 7 sars."
"I see. Thank you. Unfortunately, I only have 3 sarss to spare."
The stranger almost dropped his drink at that.
"Odd, I figured you were a well off fellow, you carry yourself well."
Shadowmere's drink then arrived--it had a brown syrupy texture and smelled of nothing.
"Yes...thank you."
As Shadowmere was about to take a drink, the stranger practically smacked it away. 										"Don't you dare, bud! If you aren't going to pay 7 sars, I will for you! Bartender, a 'Jacky J. Bubble on the Rocks' for my  buddy here!" 
The stranger was obviously drunk as he looked up at Shadowmere with hazy eyes, but his kindness was noted.
He held out a hoof. "My name is 'Don Duner' but Don is just fine."

"...and I am Shadowmere, thank you for the kind gesture." The hoof gesture was returned with a hoof bump.
Don eyes became wide as dinner plates. "Shadowmare? As in mare?...You're a MARE?! Damn, you must be as big as they get!"
Shadowmere contemplated the notion. Yes, Shadowmare was neither male or female due to being a daedric creature. Gender was usually decided by how Shadowmere's riders referred to her/him. Seeing how Shadowmere's latest rider, Astrid, referred to Shadowmere as a stallion, a change to a mare seemed proper. Plus, the stranger's reaction to a mare's surprising masculine build was amusing.

"Heh, close, Don. I'm ShadowMERE, not mare...but yess, I am a mare. Shadow is a suitable nickname. "
The 'Jacky J. Bubble on the Rocks' came and Don gazed critically at Shadow as she drank it down. It tasted exactly like a delicious minty mojito and Don's recommendation was committed to memory.

"Ha, glad you liked it bud-ehum, Shadow...You know, do you have any place to stay? The inns here are pure tourist traps, they will drain your Sars dry!"

"No, no, I hadn't considered an inn. I'm perfectly comfortable sleeping outside."
Don again did a double take and whistled, 'Whoa, it's hot in a desert, but it can be argued that it's freezzzing at night~!"
Don's playful expression then turned serious, "Plus, all kinds of thieves and muggers stalk the allies at night. This place might look peaceful in the day, but the tone turns dark at night--those nifty saddlebags would be gone without you battin' an eye!"
"I see. Thank you, Don. I should leave now to find a suitable hideout."
"What?...NO! I, I ahh, insist you stay at my place! Besides, if you are looking to made a hefty bit of sars, I can gladly hook you up with friendly connections. Celestia knows you would be paid in full if you put those muscles to use!"

Shadowmere would normally be cautious at staying at a stranger's house or territory of any kind, but the dangers of the land were currently unknown and Don Duner brought up valid concerns. Besides, the past experience as an assassin would ensure that any wrong doings towards Shadowmere would result in a deadly end--the wrath of Sithis was relentless.

"Alright, Don...Duner. I accept."
> The Mother
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

|====[Sisters]====|
|==[of]==|
|========[Shadowmere:]========|




{The}-=-{Mother}



"Oh dearest Mother, do not fret, loyal Keeper Cicero will deliver you to sanctuary~!"
Cicero, perhaps the single most devoted disciple of the Night Mother had traveled far. From the temped region of Cyrodiil the Imperial Province to the cold reaches of callous Skyrim had left the crazied little imperial jester craving deliverance. He truly loved the Night Mother as any proper son of Sithis should, but as he approached the tarnished Falkreath Sanctuary, he had a brief moment of pure animosity towards his dark parents and absent brethren.
"This WRETCHED wooden WAGON! Useless! I tried Mother, I tried! I shall continue on, soldier on, as they say--just TELL me where!"

Cicero tossed his signature jester's hat aside and pulled on his tinted red hair--truly, he was lost.
He was also angry, so very angry. The alluring shine of his ebony blade was a comforting stress reliever. Perhaps a token of forgiveness from Sithis himself. The smell of his decaying siblings demanded fresh blood, and blood, Cicero was willing to give.
The hungry blade was lifted and promptly drew blood--not Cicero's blood mind you, he knew his was needed as healthy as possible to serve Sithis's will.
The horse, the heroic relentless horse that had pulled the wretched wagon from Cyrodiil to Skyrim was the answer to Cicero's demand for blood. The beast of burden quickly fell, a mercy from the Night Mother in its own right. The warm haze that followed comforted Cicero and it was if the Night Mother was wrapping him in her loving cold embrace. Cicero was happy. Cicero was once again the loyal Keeper.

"Aww, did you really have to kill it so violently? All that blood, it's frozen and wasted now."

Cicero froze. That was not Cicero's voice, nor the fabled Night Mother's.
A little breton girl stepped out into the open and eyed the corpse of the horse not with the expected pity, but looked at it with a contempt sense of lose.

Cicero anticipated an alarm for the guard to be called up by the little girl, but none came. When Cicero noticed the girl's expression, it was empty, yet portrayed wit--the wit of a killer. A fellow Dark Brother follower? Where there so few siblings left that Sithis and the Night Mother had to rely on the follies of mere children?! Cicero wasn't sure how to feel. Jealousy because the children will have more life to give to the Brotherhood, or rage because they would only serve as a distraction to the true purposes of the Brother--

"Excuse me, Mr....Jester? Do you know what this place is?"

"I..little girl, do happen to know...but! Ahem, tell me! What does that dark door with the skull mean, hmmm?!" Cicero gripped his blade close. The little girl's answer would determine whether or not she would join the horse in his agitated state.

"Hehe, you seem to be a pretty good jester. That skull, is Sithis of the Dark Brotherhood."

Cicero's grip on his blade loosened, bits of clarity crossed his features as little hopeful butterflies began to flutter in his belly.

"Then, little girl, do you know about the Night Mother... and perhaps more?"

The girl seemed hesitant to answer at first, but a fangy smile soon assured absolute confidence in her strengths.
"Of course, I was once apart of the dark family, the Brotherhood...but its gone now..."

"Oh dear...how, horrible. Ooooh, consarnit ALL! ALL to Sithis's blackest reach! No, the Brotherhood will always live as long as the scared corpse of the Night Mother remains intact~!" Cicero gestured wildly to the precious coffin and a goofy grin spread across his faced as he affectionately patted the case.

"So little girl, you remain a sister of the Brotherhood still! Are there any others? Is there another sanctuary? Tell me, tell me, is there still hope for a better start?! Oh, oh, is there a LISTENER!? Oh...heh...and what's your name, sister?" Cicero clasped his hands together, eyes wild with manic joy. Things were looking up!

The little girl's smile disappeared, and was replaced by a solemn look of grieving. She crossed her arms, deep in thought as she took in the information. "Well, no, the sanctuary was destroyed a few days ago...by the Dragonborn. I was lucky enough to be out hunting--when I came back, everything was destroyed or gone. Oh, and I'm Babette, an alchemy merchant and vampire."

"Ooo, how interesting, an un-child and potion peddler. Very fitting for the Brotherhood. I'm Cicero, loyal Keeper to the Night Mother, now and forever~!"
Cicero suddenly felt ill as a disturbing realization donned on him. "Wait, the Dragonborn did this?! But...that warrior, helped me fix my wagon..."

"Soo, Cicero--"

Cicero suddenly gasped, "And the Listener!? Is there one? Are YOU, the Listener!?"

"No, there isn't a 'Listener.' There hasn't been one in this sanctuary for decades."

"I...no Listener? But, but how will we receive guidance and praise from Mother, now?"

"Well, we should find a safe place for Mother, first, before we do anything else. After all, you said the Dark Brotherhood lives so long as the Night Mother is present. So what was your plan, Cicero?" Babette's confident grin resurfaced once more.

"Oh, Bab-babette, I was hoping the Night Mother and I could find sanctuary in Falkreath, but, um well...pffft, not anymore-!"

"I figured, we could always relocate to the Dawnstar Santuary. It's been abandoned for decades, but it's good. The Dragonborn and other organizations against the Brotherhood wouldn't suspect a thing!"

"Wait...you mean...we have to travel...again?" 
The poor little jester's manic spirit began to sputter and die--Cicero hated traveling.

"Of course! Although, it's gonna take a lot longer since we don't have a horse to pull the carriage anymore."