Got the quest in Winterhold, by that kid trying to summon the Dark Brotherhood, to kill the evil old lady called Grelod the Kind who runs an orphanage in Riften, from whose evil clutches he'd managed to escape.
This I did, being the kind and helpful soul that I yam.
Soon after, while out doing
other stuff, I was stopped by a courier in Whiterun who passed me a
mysterious note.
This note consisted of nothing more than a large black hand, like a palm-print, and beneath it the ominous words;
We know .... Oooh.
Scary. Who are we? And what do we know?
Now since I'm a goody-two-shoes who gives from his dungeon-sacked treasure hoards to charity, helps old ladies cross the cobblestones, and is an all round
nice guy, I figured that the only
slightly dubious action I may have carried our that
may have been less white than whiter-than-white (

) was rubbing out the evil old orphanage lady. Even though she deserved it. Sort of. Maybe. For not being nice to the kids in her care. Possibly. Anyway.
Nothing much more happened on this front, so I began to forget about the
mysterious note curled up in the back pocket of my cuffed steel armoured pants, and carried on my merry way, ransacking dungeons and helping old ladies cross the cobblestones. One evening after a particularly hard day's ransack, I was feeling rather tired and saddlesore, so trudged back to the nice new apartment I'd recently leased in Whiterun (the armoury next door starts up early in the morn, but the views over the plains of Whiteshore are
to die for), hung up my battered and bloodied armour over the back of the chaise-longue, and fell swiftly into a long and dreamless sleep.
Only to wake up, slowly and blissfully, to find I wasn't in my pleasant bunk, but in some shack in the middle of nowhere. The slight and seductive figure of a black-clad lady appeared before my bleary eyes, sat atop a small set of shelves at the end of the bed, one dangling leg swinging playfully back and forth, picking at her long fingernails with a fearsomely sharp looking dagger.
She spoke with an alluring purr to reveal that she was of the secretive assassination group known as the Dark Brotherhood - Ah haaaaa says I to myself - and went on to accuse yours truly of 'stealing' the contract to rub out Grelod the Kind, the evil old orphanage lady! The temerity! The
audacity! Stealing? Moi? She may as well have accused me of using a salad fork that had
three prongs!
My mouth opening and closing like a particularly dim goldfish with the shock of the accusation, she continued her demure and feline monologue to get to the rub - I was in debt to them. I owed them. For stealing their work. The
bastards!
But there was a way out! Joy! I could
join them! Since I seemed so
fond of assassination; and of old ladies to boot!
All I had to do, to prove my commitment, and, no-less, that I had the stomach for the work, was to arbitrarily select one of the three bound and hooded innocent captives over there in the room to the left (turns to look), and kill them. With my own clean and innocent hands.
NO! I
will NOT! You can SHOVE your silly secretive assassination squad with your silly secretive handshakes! I will
NOT have blood of innocents on
MY hands! NOT TODAY! NOT EVER!
With a blind fury, my dungeon-ransacking instincts kicked in, and with neutrino speed my arms cross over right to left to reach for my Steel Shield of Extra-Blocking-Ness (TM) and my trusty Dwarven Sword of Burn-Lots-of-Things-With-Fire, and before she had a chance to say "Urgh" I slay her. I cut her right open. Ha! Ha I say!
Releasing the three poor, poor souls who were dragged into this sorry mess through no fault of their own, I felt good. I felt whole.
With barely a second glance I kick open the door to the shack and walk out into the warm light of dawn's welcome.
And there, fading into view above my head, is that mysterious
White Writing of Quest Following that seems to appear from time to time, advising me and guiding me as it does (though by what magical design it appears and disappears like that I'm sure I'll never know!), this time informing me that I should speak to a guard about what had taken place, and perhaps pursue the downfall of the Dark Brotherhood in its entirety! Oh yes!