Cicero
Crazy - Corrupted - Talkative
The Jester Assassin
Pet Name: Cicero
Owner: Sylar
Theme / Type: Nocturnal Jinx
Born: September 6, 2012
Gender: Male
Mood: Mad
MisticPal Name: Night Mother
MisticPal Age: 4460 Days
Battle Portal Stats
Hit Points: 22 / 22
Strength: 20
Defense: 0
Speed: 20
Intellect: 15
Misticpower: 1
Books Read
Books Read: None
Exotic Foods Eaten
Foods Eaten: 0/1254 [ View Foods ]
Cicero is hungry...Need a sweetroll...or a carrot.
...madness is merry and merriment's might, when the jester comes calling with his knife in the night...
Cicero
Cicero is a lethal jester and the keeper of the Night Mother's coffin.
Widely regarded as bothersome, obnoxious, strange, and mad, Cicero sports flamboyant attire and speaks with a high-pitched voice. Because he seemingly speaks to himself (when he is really speaking to the Night Mother's remains), he is considered insane. As Keeper of the Night Mother, Cicero takes his vocation very seriously, willing to wound and kill anyone who questions or ignores the Night Mother's authority, although he was not always like this; before being keeper, he was just as sane as the other Assassins as mentioned how his first two journals were written. But after being appointed keeper and completing his last contract, which involved killing a jester, he slowly became obsessed with the jester and was finally "reborn" into the Jester he is now.
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Personality
Diary Entries
18th of Evening Star, 4E 186
As I begin this new phase of my life, I have decided to finally keep a journal. So much has happened to me thus far, both within the Brotherhood and without - when I think there is no record of what has transpired, it almost seems an affront to Sithis himself. So I am determined to make amends.
Yes, the Dark Brotherhood has its own scribes and chroniclers, but it is their solemn task to record those events deemed important to the organization as a whole. Let this volume serve as the personal record of one man, a lowly assassin who has pledged his blade and his life for the Dark Brotherhood.
12th of Rain's Hand, 4E 187
Cheydinhal suits me. With the destruction or abandonment of the other Sanctuaries, our contracts are plentiful, as are our bonuses.
Still, we seem to be losing our footholds throughout Tamriel at an alarming rate. There are rumors that the Black Hand is split on our continued direction. Some favor expansion, the others consolidation.
My personal feeling is that the Dark Brotherhood needs to, at the very least, maintain the illusion of being everywhere at once. It has become exceedingly difficult to fulfill (or even establish) contracts in provinces where we no longer have a physical presence, like Hammerfell. The more we ignore Tamriel, the more people lose faith in the Dark Brotherhood - our power, our services, our dedication to the Void.
5th of Last Seed, 4E 188
We received word today - the Wayrest Sanctuary was raided and destroyed by the corsairs. There were no survivors.
There are now only three active Dark Brotherhood strongholds remaining: The Cheydinhal Sanctuary, here in the Imperial Province; a remote Sanctuary located in a forest in Skyrim; and the Corinthe Sanctuary of Elsweyr.
The Black Hand has ordered the Corinthe Sanctuary closed, and its members integrated into our own ranks here, in Cheydinhal. I will embrace those new family members as warmly as I was, when I first made my home here.
21st of Sun's Dusk, 4E 188
So much has happened since my last entry. After Garnag and Andronica left for Bravil, we stopped receiving communications from the city. We feared the worst. This morning, those fears were confirmed, when Garnag returned alone, transporting a most precious cargo - the great stone coffin of the Night Mother herself.
The story Garnag told could curl the blood of even the most hardened of Sithis' servants. The crypt of the Night Mother, raided. Dearest sister Andronica, cut to pieces. And the Listener herself, the most honored Alisanne Dupre, burned alive in a storm of mage fire.
Garnag, though gravely injured (he will most certainly lose his right eye), managed to fend off the attackers, and transport the Night Mother's coffin safely out of the city. He has been on the road, making his way back here, since that tragic night.
25th of Morning Star, 4E 189
I have been chosen. By some incomprehensible twist of fate, the Black Hand has named me the Night Mother's Keeper. In all honesty, I am both incredibly honored and deeply saddened. This means the end of my contracts. I'll be lucky to lift a blade again. Thankfully, Rasha has promised me one final contract before I accept my new duties.
30th of Morning Star, 4E 189.
The jester lies dead. My final contract has been completed. Oh, how he laughed and laughed. Until he didn't.
4th of Sun's Height, 4E 189
So long since I worked my blade. So long since I saved a soul. But I am now Keeper. No longer a taker.
I think back fondly on my hours with the jester. His laughter, his screams, his pitiful cries. And then, as the end drew near, his laughter once more. Merry in death as well as life. I was honored to know him.
26th of Frostfall, 4E 189
Silence! Deafening silence! In my head in my head in my head. It is the silence of death, the silence of the Void. Seeping into me, through the Mother. The silence is hatred. The silence is rage. The silence is love.
3rd of First Seed, 4E 190
I can hear it. Deeper, and deeper. Louder and louder, punctuating the silence like thunder on a calm evening. Laughter.
4th of First Seed, 4E 190
Laughing, laughing, laughing, laughing! It is the jester! A voice from the Void, to cheer poor Cicero! I accept your gift, dearest Night Mother. Thank you for my laughter. Thank you for my friend.
17th of Rain's Hand, 4E 191
I love the laughter, dearest Night Mother, but still I long to hear your voice. It's not too late! Speak to me, my mother! Speak to me, that I may set things right! I can save the Sanctuary, I can save the Brotherhood!
You can have the laughter! Take it back! An exchange, then? The laughter for your voice?
2nd of Second Seed, 4E 191
It's not safe to leave the Sanctuary. We'll stay here. All is well.
29th of Last Seed, 4E 191
Garnag is gone. Gone gone gone gone gone. Left to get food, but he'll be back. It's only been three months. Three months. Tree months? Twelve moths? Four sloths!
21st of Sun's Dusk, 4E 192
Cicero is dead! Cicero is born!
The laughter has filled me, filled me so very completely. I am the laughter. I am the jester. The soul that has served as my constant companion for so long has breached the veil of the Void finally and forever. It is now in me. It is me.
The world has seen the last of Cicero the man. Behold Cicero, Fool of Hearts - laughter incarnate!
28th of Sun's Dusk, 4E 200
Found the old journal, decided to write, a treatise on silence, sound, darkness and light!
How long has it been since the Night Mother first came here? How long since I was made Keeper? How long since I became the fool? Since I've been alone? Since Cheydinhal fell? Since they started pounding on the door, like so many hammered heartbeats?
It's dark in here, and quiet. Poor Cicero no longer hears the laughter, for he is the laughter. There is no Listener in Cheydinhal. No Listener in Cyrodiil. No Listener in me.
We must leave here. Before the Sanctuary falls. Before the Night Mother burns. Before the Dark Brotherhood withers. Before the laughter dies.
29th of Sun's Dusk, 4E 200
I took a stroll, and spied a maid, but Matron's duty stayed my blade. So busy now, I miss the thrill, if only I had time to kill.
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Mother, sweet mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear.
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