Lush pine trees of snow and ice, the green grass consumed under dense frost. In the Northern part of Skyrim, The Pale is a chilling and unforgiving landscape. The sun rarely shines, the snow is always heavy and the creatures that roam here are not hesitant to rip your guts right out of your throat. Down in the south east part of the Pale lies Lake Yorgrim, a pool of water that settles with ice cold waters and freezing temperatures. Squeezed between the lake and a patch of scaling mountains sits the Stormcloak Pale camp.
The Stormcloaks see it as an easy post, with good food coming from Windhelm which is but a mile a away, temperatures that are not too cold or too hot, and it was in such a secluded area, that no one noticed it. The men and women stationed there did barely nothing, sitting by their crackling fire, eating delicious meats and food as much as they like, while lounging around their bed rolls and tents. Their guard was down almost throughout most days, the men even on guard duty around the camp ate a steak while leaning against a tree for a snooze.
11:04pm, 7th of Frostfall.
Three black figures walked through the night, seeing the dim glow of the camp as a fire still roared. The figures were masked by hoods and mouth straps, only two light blue dots of light could be seen as eyes, much like stars in the sky. They bared capes of black, and armour made of enchanted leather of a coal colour. The children of Nocturnal, the Daedric Prince of shadow, night and luck. Her followers are masters of stealth and thievery, some say able to turn the will of the dark unto themselves, and control it like a pet. The Nightingales.
"Boss," Brynjolf whispered, "what's the plan then?"
"No blood, I presume?" Karliah asked, a dark elf who was with the Nightingales long before Noctus and Brynjolf.
"Unfortunately, blood will have to be shed. We must take out the watch, hide his body then steal what we can, and get out." Noctus replied, drawing his sword. The blade had a symbol at the hilt, that seemed to be a bird with its wings upward to a sphere, the same symbol that was printed on the centre of their chests on the armour they adorned.
"I see. Well then lead on lad."
They peeped over a hill, overlooking the entire camp. As per-expected, there was a guard on duty, yet he did not seem so. He was lying down on the ground, hands behind his head and looking up at the sky. It was hard to tell if he was a asleep of just had his eyes closed.
"Stick an arrow in his head." Noctus hissed, with Karliah drawing her bow, that glowed with a faint shine of blues. She released her arrow like a wolf off of a leash, and the arrow hit its mark, piercing the guard's under chin. He did not make a sounds as his body went loose, and the Nightingales moved slowly into the camp; crouched and low to the snow.