Good update, and the promise of action...


That made me laugh, it's so Ernand and it's so true.

His increasing sympathy with Neira is well shown, in some way she is more similar to him than Ravena and I can certainly see his allegiance shifting somewhat.

SubRosa caught all the nits I saw though I would question this:
"Neira Hlallu" - is that meant to be Hlaalu? It may well not be but the spelling of the great house from morrowind is with two 'a's.

This chapter may just be my favorite!!! Not much action going on but a ton of interesting development of characters as always immersed in your attention to details another (like me for instance) might miss adding to their story - One of these was such a simple piece of brilliance (the 10 Septim coin - why didn't I think of that? ARGH! - such a tiny thing, but I sure would have liked to have been using it throughout my story!) You ROCK !!!! I loved this chapter !!!

Here is my fave line, just because I loved it:

I'll be finishing up the next chapter tomorrow. My head has been bothering me lately, so that's why it's taken so long.


Not unless you want it, lady

Thanks for readin'.


Thank you, missy. There will be a lot more of that, and more, as the story goes on. I like lore.


Yes, it is meant to Hlallu. I don't think Neira would make a good member of house Hlaalu....


On the subject of the Ten Septim Coin: Who can't realistically carry 11414 septims around with them? Heck, in Daggerfall, gold had weight! You had to use a bank, and then take out letters of credit. So I just ran with that idea a bit.

This post has been edited by Verlox: Jun 9 2010, 06:37 AM

Finally caught up and now I can't wait till they catch up with the Dunmer Thief lady.

I can't honestly say how I feel about this chapter. After a longtime away from the writing process, I won't say I'm dissapointed. No, that would be wrong. But I can't say I'm pleased with it, either. I had a much more different vision in mind when I started this chapter, but I got a little....involved with the goblins. Much to my annoyance. And I couldn't find a good place to stop with my "loving" description of my green friends and their barbarity.

Heck, I was halfway through when I changed the chapter-title to better reflect my goblin apparent obsession. Maybe I should write a goblin soap opera.

But, stick around for the next chapter when Neira infiltrates Stonekeep. METAL GEAR STYLE!!

Yeah, I've been playing A LOT of MGS4. Sue me.

Edit: Wonderful. Umbrella Seller....

Chapter Sixteen: Goblin Drama

The towering edifice of Stonekeep sat along the mountain road as an opulent ruin. A perpetual shroud of dark mist permeated the land and surrounding foliage. Whether it was foul goblin magick, or their cooking, was left up to any passerby subjecting themselves to the dangers of getting too close to the palace’s wrecked gate house.

Being built at the foothills of the Corten Mountain Range, Stonekeep was covered in a light dusting of snow, appropriate to the mild mid-winter the coast of Hammerfell was experiencing. The resident goblins, as was normal for their kind, did not take well to the cold, and numerous bonfires burned in the courtyard, only adding to the black miasma that hung over the palace.

From her perch in a nearby grove of trees, Neira monitored the green-skinned monsters. Like most goblins in western Tamriel, this tribe was relatively organized. Of course, being goblins, that organization was enforced with violence by the bigger ones on the smaller ones. She could see such an act happening in the gatehouse as a small pack of four goblins were squabbling over a slain hare, only for a much larger greenskin to come along, grunt and attack the others, and took the hare to be roasted on one of the bonfires.

Rubbing her shoulders to get some warmth into them, Neira stood from her spot and faded back into the brush a ways, where she had tethered her stolen horse. It was a small clearing with stamped down grass covered in frost. It was cold and uncomfortable, but off the road and well-hidden. Flopping down, her back against a tree, Neira hung her head in exhaustion, thoughts racing through her mind.

I’m beginning to think coming here wasn’t such a good idea. But I’d freeze if I tried crossing the mountains, and that Redguard umbrella seller, Neira spat on the ground when Ravenna passed through her thoughts, She’d find me if I went to Rose Guard. And then there is likely the hundred hunters from Taneth to Rihad that would be so eager to skewer me and deliver my head to Taneth. Vultures!.

Raising her head, she gazed at the horse, the beast contentedly chewing on the frosted grass. An image of the Breton she had stolen it from flashed through her mind, and how she had promised to make it up to him. Though in her current situation, she was certain she’d probably never even see the man again.

A pity, she thought with a cat-like smile,He was rather cute.

Getting to her feet again, she moved lithely over to the steed, running her hands over the leather saddlebags. In her hurried flight, she hadn’t had time to rummage through them. But, Neira lifted her head to look at the sun’s position, with Magnus nearing its height, and a small army of goblins occupying her only safe haven, that moment was as good a time as any for a little “counting of the spoils”.

Undoing the straps that kept the bags safely closed, Neira then lifted up the flaps and began to rummage through the Breton’s belongings. She wasn’t impressed with what she found. The first object she pulled out was a heavy wool blanket, not valuable, but needed in the winter. Gingerly wrapping the blanket tightly around her, and leaving her arms still free, she continued her inspection.

Winter clothing, trail rations, a simple dagger, and other traveling gear. Nothing special at all.

With a dissatisfied huff, Neira let the flaps drop back down into place, and she waddled back over to the tree to sit down. Snuggling deeper into the wool blanket, she felt her body warming under the soft material.

Unwilling to doze off, the dark elf passed the time by thinking up numerous contingency plans, for the possible event that she was unable to gain entrance to her hideout in the tunnels beneath Stonekeep. The most obvious plan was to cross the Corten Mountains, but with the mountain roads choked with snow, that would be well-nigh impossible. The other plan was to make a dash for the Brena River, and enter Colovia. It would be tough getting through that bounty hunter-infested area, but if she could pass through it, and get to Valenwood, her troubles would be over.

Hopefully[i], she thought to herself, [i]It doesn’t come to that. The masters always said, “News travels faster than the wind. And bounties even faster.”

The sudden blare of a shrill horn brought Neira out of her musings. The noise not only managed to surprise her, but it also spooked her stolen horse, and it began to fight its tether, straining the thin rope to the breaking point. In a series of quick motions, the dark elf untangled herself from the Breton’s blanket, and sprung to her feet, and she moved to calm the steed down. She was, however, too slow, and by the time she started to move, the equine had already broken the rope and sped off, leaving deep hoof prints in the ground.

Blistering the air with foul, dunmeri curses, Neira stood for a time in the clearing, seething with rage. The horn, for its part, continued to sound out, drowning out the continued screaming of the furious woman.

Having exhausted her vocabulary until she was reduced to mindless sputtering, Neira stopped mid-gibberish. After taking several deep breaths and composing herself, she ran a hand through her hair, mussing it. Lacking vanity in her particular situation, she did nothing to fix it. Spinning on her heel, Neira made her way across the clearing and into the tangle of the wood that separated her from the goblin horde of Stonekeep.

Neira’s perch at the edge of the wood was well-chosen spot. Shadowed by the canopy above, and abundant in ground foliage, she simply had to wiggle her way between three bushes under a great cedar tree to become almost invisible, while also affording her an unparalleled view of the goblin fortress.

Nestling deep into the bushes, and drawing her hood up over her hair to hide the clashing fiery red, Neira slowly parted a few leaves and branches until her view of the gates were unobstructed. Before her, in the bailey of the palace, a great troupe of goblins had gathered. Nipping and shoving each other, it appeared to the Dunmer that they were jockeying for position. Quirking her eyebrow, she wondered why.

Her question was answered when the horn sounded again, and the great double doors of the keep-proper flew open, and a second, much smaller group, of goblins marched out. Clad in disheveled armor, and carrying heavy, albeit rusted, weapons, these goblins were some of the most fearsome she had ever seen. As big as Orcs, in girth, they were as well.

The Shaman’s guards, Neira thought to herself as she watched the larger greenskins shove their lesser brethren aside, clearing a rather large space in the center of the great group, But where’s the shaman?

Her question was answered when the horn blew a low, almost mournful note, and the creatures in the bailey fell silent. From out of the keep came two goblins, each the size of the Shaman’s guards. On their shoulder, they carried the bloody corpse of a diminutive, wrinkly goblin with numerous crude arrows sticking out of it. With great reverence, they bore their load through the goblins, who parted like water to let them through. When they reached the center of the gathering, they gently laid the body out onto the snow-patched ground.

Then a great, collective, ear-bursting scream came from the goblins in the bailey.

Neira clutched her ears as she reeled out of the bushes and back into the forest. She had never encountered this before. From what she knew of goblins, the cared little for their kind, and were more likely to feast on a fallen comrade than mourn him.

As the screaming subsided, and Neira’s the ringing ceased in her ears, the Dunmer crawled, weakly, back to her perch. She almost regretted it when she saw what the monsters were doing then. With their simple weapons, they were raking the dull blades and rusty nails across their bodies, roaring with primal fury and misery.

From her perch, Neira could only blink in total confusion. Something was wrong with these creatures. “This is too much,” she muttered to herself, “This…this is unnatural.”

The goblins stopped their mutilations, however, when the horn sounded a final time, and six small goblins, clad in dirty rags, and each carrying a staff, marched out of keep. Two of them, the ones in the front, marched with staves much more ostentatious, painted in loud, garish colors, and decorated with feathers, bones, and other baubles. The two goblins in the rear each had a rope in his hand, and between them they pulled a great, unruly goblin into the bailey.

The captive goblin was subjected to kicks, strikes, and furious growls as its captors lead it into the center of the gathering. Undaunted, it snarled and bit back, but bound as it way, it was unable to ably defend itself. Once in the center, the guards wasted no time in shoving their captive to the ground, and began to savagely thrash it with their weapons. The other goblins cheered as their betters did what they all desired to do.

When the captive had been suitably mauled, it was picked up, and thrown into the crowd by two of the guards, where, Neira was sure, it was torn apart quite quickly. When attention was turned back to the staff-carrying goblins, she talked amongst themselves before raising one of the fancier staves to sky, the throwing it to the ground, stomping on it until it was broken into the pieces. Stooping down, one of them scooped up the centerpiece of the staff, a large bird’s skull, and raised it high, and the other goblins cheered. Then, one of the larger goblins began to scream in its guttural language, which Neira could hear quite clearly but couldn’t understand.

When it was finished, the others ran all about the bailey, picking up weapons and half-cooked rabbits. Slowly, they began to trickle back to the gathering point, until once again they were all gathered. Then the tribal staff, the unbroken one, was raised high over the tribes dead shaman, and then more screaming.

But what shocked Neira the most was the relatively ordered march that occurred after the brief funeral for their slain shaman.

“By Almalexia’s left teet! They’re going to war!”

Neira watched, quietly, as the goblins marched south down the mountain road towards Rihad. It took several minutes before the horde turned west, disappearing into the woods in search of their enemy who has assassinated their spiritual leader. But even out of sight, she could still clearly hear their war cries.

Flopping onto the ground, Neira sat for a few moments in utter shock and confusion. Flinging her hood back, she ran her hands through her hair again.

Ok, Neira, calm down. Yes, you just saw what could possibly be the most strange thing you will ever see in your entire life. Getting to her feet, she faded a few feet back into the forest to avoid the sight of any sentries that may have been left behind. Ok, I accept that. Good. Then Neira began to chuckle lightly to herself, marveling at her good fortune. With the horde on the warpath, it would be a much simpler act to penetrate the palace and get to the tunnels below where he hideout was.

And if that bounty hunter happens to run into a few berserk goblins, well, I can’t say I’ll be upset!

This post has been edited by Verlox: Oct 1 2010, 06:59 AM

I loved your description of the savage, yet reverent ritual of the burial of the Goblin leader (the Shaman I presume) and the punishment and consequential tearing apart of the asassin.

I am routing for Neira tho, can't help myself, I have a thng for red-head Dunmer ladies lol

I would remove your disclaimer at the top, this chapter is AWESOME !!!!

Like any student of animal (here I include humans) behavior, I found this vignette of goblin behavior quite fascinating. It kept me reading and I really enjoyed myself. You did well to write this chapter - though it may or may not have anything to do with the plot, it is still an outstanding piece.

Loved it!

Imaginative, vivid, and compelling. Scenes like the one you describe are why I continue to read- to see something new and unexpected. The entire ritual, as well as the hierarchical squabbling, come across as fitting what little we know of TES goblins.

Whether it was foul goblin magick, or their cooking
I love this wry humor!

Redguard umbrella seller
Coming from a desert, one would not expect to find too many Redguards selling umbrellas...

The goblins were very cool! I loved the funeral, and their execution of what I take was the assassin. Or perhaps just a handy victim they sacrificed to their gods (hmmm, I wonder what do goblins worship, Malacath?) for their favor in their campaign. All in all, well worth letting them take over your keyboard for this segment!


nits:
she thought with a cat-like smile,He was rather cute.
Two things here. First there is no space after the comma. Second, that ought to be a lowercase he

Hopefully[i], she thought to herself, [i]
You have some errant bbcode here.

Stick around then . She's no one-shot.


Well, other peoples enjoyment makes me enjoy it more


I get distracted easy, but I'm glad you liked it!


Yeah, I thought I might try to...spice the goblins up a little. TES is a pretty rich world, yeah, but its woefully lakcing in some areas. I kinda went with the whole "totem-war" thing that was supposed to be in Oblivion, and ran with it.


It's almost purely by accident.


This site is fun to upload fics to. You never know what the censor will do! Maybe we should make a drinking game....


I really need to learn to proofread...

Anyway

Here is another chapter. Apologies for the long duration lacking any reading. School has been murder, and Tanahk study takes up no small amount of time. But I like how this chapter came out, I think it gives more insight into Neira, while actually advancing the story for once

News: I'm gonna stop the subtitles for chapters, mostly cause I'm not creative enough to think up good ones

Chapter Seventeen

As the goblin horde disappeared into the forest to bring brutal battle to a rival tribe, Neira faded back into the woods, and moved quickly back to the clearing. As she bounded through the woods, her plan for infiltration slowly began to form.

Alright, so entering the bailey directly would be suicide. Those monsters probably have that gate watched like hawks. She ducked a low-hanging branch that was in her path as she sped back to her campsite. So I’m going to have to go over the walls…Dammit.

She slowed her pace substantially when the trees began to thin out, and then went to an unhurried walk when she finally emerged into the clearing where he gear was leaning up against the tree, from which the horse had broken off its tether. She spat at the ground, still somewhat angry over the horse abandoning her, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to take it into the keep with her.

But I could have used it as a diversion, at least!

Moving over to her pack, she spent the next few minutes rummaging through it, rearranging some things, and removing some all together. Food, clothes, and other non-essentials she ditched, throwing them over her shoulder and onto the snow where, likely, some stray animal would happen along them and consume it. Next, she removed a long length of rope, along with a grappling-hook of cold steel. She set those two items aside.

She then removed her sand-colored cloak, tossing it behind her as well, and pulled a much darker gray one from the back. Draping it over her head, she lifted its mask up over her face, and pulled the hood to cover her head. Then giving the pack another once-over, and removing a cumbersome set of assorted knives, she slung it over her shoulders.

Scooping up the rope and hook, Neira got back to her feet. Checking the curved dagger at her waist to assure herself it was secure, she started walking back into the wood, but this time heading north, deeper in, rather than east back to the road. As she walked, she uncoiled a few feet of the rope, threading it through the ring at the base of the hook until she was able to tie a secure knot. This took several minutes; the width of the rope required her apply a great deal of force to push the head of the rope through the ring, then to pull it through.

After a short period of walking, Neira guessing no more than a half-hour, she made a sharp turn to her right, heading back towards the road. A quarter-hour later, she emerged from the wood and was back onto the mountain road.

Now for the hard part, she groaned inwardly, as she carefully made her way to the walls of Stonekeep.



Neira skidded to a halt when she reached the walls of Stonekeep. Above her, the pitted and weathered walls loomed high, enshrouding her in shade. Up above on the battlements, she could hear the clanking of a goblin sentry as it made its rounds about the wall.

Security is pretty tight, Neira thought as she reached down to unhook the rope from her belt, I was sure there would be less goblins!Listening closely until she heard the fainting sound of a goblin sentry moving away from his position above her, Neira strung the rope out. After making sure the hook was firmly attached to the end of the coil, she began to twirl it at her side, building up momentum slowly. Judging the moment to be right, the Dunmer released her hold on the rope and it went soaring up.

The tell-tale clink of the hook latching to the rampart sang like music in Neira’s ear. However, she continued to wait at the bottom after giving the rope a few discreet tugs, to assure herself of its safety. It wasn’t until she was positive that no goblin had heard her hook that she took hold of the rope, and began to gradually make her way, vertically, up the wall.

Although she had to occasionally stop, letting a sentry pass by, she eventually reached the top, and carefully clambered up onto the ramparts. Her being singing with joy at her success, Neira took a moment to raise the rope and up reattach it to her belt.

just in case I need it again, she thought.

Her task completed, she crouched low again, pressing herself up against the crenulated rampart, seeking what minor camouflage she could gain from its shadowed rear, and stared out onto the bailey below her.

To Neira’s mind, squalor was the only word she could use to describe the conditions of the bailey. Apparently, the spacious accommodations of Stonekeep hadn’t been enough for this particular tribe of goblins, and they had taken to building ramshackle hut, and pitching numerous ratty tents in the free space of the bailey. Not only that, but the remains of their meals lay scattered about in haphazard piles, mingling with the dirt and other filth.

The smell, bad enough from the forest west of the citadel, was almost overpowering now that she was inside. Neira was sure now that it was certainly due to their cooking, for no magick could ever foster in a dump such as what was below her in the bailey.

Overcoming her disgust, and nausea, the Dunmer turned her head to seek out the sentries on the walls. Seeing none on her left, where the only path led straight into a decrepit guard tower, she twisted her eyes right, where her gaze settled on a group of sentries, fighting loudly over a piece of moldering bread.

With the monsters distracted, Neira found her way clear on her left. So, still crouching, she snuck towards the portal of the ruined tower. As she entered the shadowed doorway, her eyes took some time to adjust to the shadowed interior of the tower. Round it was, with the only light streaming in being from open doorway behind her, and from numerous arrow slits above. Closing the door behind her, the room was once again plunged into darkness. Gradually, her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, and she could clearly navigate her way.

The room was empty, having nothing but a few shattered boxes in the corner. But, on her right, spiraling down the wall, was a staircase that could take her to the bottom level, and, she thought hopefully, out into bailey so she could access Stonekeep’s great hall. As her foot stepped onto the first stair, however, it gave such a creek that echoed through the tower like a banshee’s scream.

Groaning, Neira stopped her descent to listen for possible pursuit. When it was clear that none of the goblins out on the wall had heard her slip up, the woman continued down their stairs, albeit more carefully this time. Reaching the bottom, she stepped off the lowest step and onto the floor of the tower. Equally dark as the level above, Neira was unable to see much, and was given a terrible shock when a ragged intake of breath echoed in the darkness.

Deftly drawing her dagger, and leaping backwards up the stairs a few steps, Neira awaited the oncoming goblin attack.

But it never came.

Lowering her dagger cautiously, Neira summon what minor magick she knew, and cast a weak light spell that, nonetheless, light the pitch black tower well enough for her to see. With the light floating above her head, she was clearly able to make out the source of the heavy breathing. In front of her a few wait was a collection of broken boxes, barrels, and crates. In one of these barrels, a goblin sat, stuck, and passed out. Its head was slumped down, constricting its neck and causing the rasp in goblins breathing.

Vulnerability. Neira grinned wickedly when she looked at the goblin. So vulnerable…like a little child. Laughing wickedly, she raised her dagger again, and carefully snuck over to the slumbering goblin, her grin growing wider. With flaming eyes shining, she looked down at the monster below her. Reaching out with her blade, Neira stroked the goblin’s cheek like a mother would her child. The goblin, baring its teeth in its sleep, snarled unconsciously at Neira’s tender touch.

Suddenly, the Dunmer narrowed her eyes and brought her dagger up. Then, flashing downward, Neira jammed her blade into the base of the monster’s neck. Its eyes flew open, but it could make no move to defend itself.

“Ahh…” Neira breathed out as she retrieved her dagger from the corpse, “One down, only a thousand more to go.” She laughed shrilly, but catching herself, quickly quieted. She could hear her heart pounding, and felt the blood rushing through her veins. It never felt different to her, killing, it always gave her a rush, a feeling she couldn’t gain elsewhere, not even during lovemaking.

Alma have mercy on me! I need to control myself. Alright, Neira, stop. Stop; think. You just did something stupid. Sighing, the woman retrieved her weapon from the goblin’s neck, and took a handkerchief from a belt-pouch to clean it of the blood. Disposing of the soiled cloth, Neira sheathed her dagger back at her waist and, casting one last look at the now-slain goblin, stepped over to the door that would lead her out into the bailey.

Light flooded into the tower as Neira pulled the door open. However, the shrieking of the hinges was enough to give the woman fright, and she jumped back into the shadows of the tower not touched by the light. She couldn’t hear the loud squabbling going on anymore, and she could only pray that the monsters hadn’t heard her. Her heart fell, then, when she heard the tell-tale snarls and mumbles that passed for goblin-speech getting nearer. To Neira’s ears, the noises issuing from the monster’s throat sounded quite irate, as if very unhappy that the tower was open.

Seconds passed before the goblin stood framed in the doorway, its features blocked by the light at its back. However, Neira, crouched low in the shadows under the stairs right of the doorway, didn’t need to see that this goblin was less that beautiful, for the smell alone was enough to confirm her suspicion that this was the ugliest individual since Boethia made Malacath.

The goblin’s speech became even louder as it entered the doorway, screaming and snarling at the corpse in the barrel that she had made. It took a few steps further in, now stomping its feet and brandishing its club. Such anger that it failed to notice the Dunmer to its right.

Taking advantage of the greenskin’s distraction, Neira moved silently behind it. Although the stench almost overpowered her, she willed herself to reach out, springing up from her position to grasp the goblin’s skinny neck and wrangle it to the ground, all while it tried to scream, and sputtered. It finally stopped squirming after a short time, and its beady eyes glazed over before rolling back in death.

Standing over her kill, the Dunmer couldn’t help but admire her handiwork. If I keep going at this rate, she thought, I’ll have the entire keep cleaned out in no time. Ha! If I did that, those Redguards would probably pardon me! Dragging the corpse into the shadows, she covered it with some debris to hide it from view further, then, her path clear, she once again peeked her head out the door.

This time around, there were no monsters in her way, and it took nothing more than a quick sprint and up some stairs to bring her to the doors of the Great Hall. In far better shape than the tower door, the doors to the Hall made only a small squeak as she pushed them open.

Inside, she wasn’t shocked to see the condition of the Hall, in fact, she was more surprised that it was relatively well-kept, in comparison to the refuse pile the bailey had become. Her feet made squishing noises as she stepped over the rotten floor-rushes, and the dust that pervaded in the air made her noise wrinkle. Up on the walls, ratty, moth-eaten tapestries hung, testaments to a more glorious time when Stonekeep was still under Rihad’s control. Light filtering in through a ceiling window revealed, at the far end of the hall upon the dais, the keep’s broken throne.

Walking up the center of the hall, flanked by old tables, Neira took in the desecrated majesty of the ruined hall. Although she had been there before, her hideout being beneath the keep in the tunnels below, she could never get used to seeing the remains of the Hall; reminding her of fleeting nature of civilization, and unstoppable march of barbarity.

Passing through the hall, and into the kitchen, Neira made her way to the back of the keep, where the remains of a great steel gate lay broken, and the way down into the tunnels that the goblins had once erupted from lay open to her. Grinning, Neira cast a light spell above her head and descended into the dark depths beneath Stonekeep.

This post has been edited by Verlox: Nov 21 2010, 02:59 AM

Oooh, more more!

I'm really liking where you are going with this. As I'm reading this, I keep thinking of the scene from LOTR where Frodo and Sam go into the orc keep. The description of the bailey certainly reminds me of the condition of the guard tower where Sam rescued Frodo from those nasty orcs!

Yet it is different enough that I'm not looking for those two, but rather holding my breath as Niera moves through Stonekeep.

SGM!

I love your description of the goblin-infested castle. You give the castle the kind of size and scope lacking in the games. It really does feel like a massive fortress. Especially good are you descriptions of the squalor the goblins live in, especially the stench!

Neira certainly has a dark side. At first I wanted to laugh at the goblin stuck in the barrel and passed out. But that turned very stark as Neira reveled in killing it. Yes, it is a goblin, and would kill and eat her without blinking an eye, but still, I found that scene chilling. You have taken a stock action of heroic fiction (slaying goblins), and turned it into something very gripping and personal.

this was the ugliest individual since Boethia made Malacath
A wonderful setting-friendly phrase!


nits:
I was sure there would be less goblins!Listening closely
Looks like the goblins ate the space between your exclamation mark and Listening.


Listening closely until she heard the fainting sound of a goblin sentry moving away from his position above her
This makes is seem like the goblin is fainting? I think you are looking for something like fading, or receding.


pressing herself up against the crenulated rampart,
That is crenelated.


and they had taken to building ramshackle hut
I think you meant huts?


As she entered the shadowed doorway, her eyes took some time to adjust to the shadowed interior of the tower.
A repetition of shadowed here. You might just change one to something like dark, or dim.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Nov 21 2010, 03:43 AM

How did you sneak this by me? Oooh, I see Neira has a bit of a dark side, and is hanging on by a thread in this scene. This one line is very telling:



I agree with SageRosa, that scene was chilling! You have the ability of twisting a scene from what could be an ordinary killing into the depths of the macabre.

Excellent chapter, Awesome Write!

@ HER: Danke. There were a few more things I wanted to do with Neira in Stonekeep before I moved over to the chapter I'm working on now, but I felt it best if I just ended the chapter there. So to hear your kind words makes me glad I ended it there

@ Subrosa: I won't lie, this chapter was a minor attempt to look at Neira a little better, and I had a feeling her...odd feelings might shock a few people.

@ mALX: I have awesome sneaking powers!

Anyway, the next chapter should be up tommorrow, and I'm taking a slight break right now. While doing so, I went looking for music that, to me, represents a few of the characters, as well as the story as a whole. Most of them are from Daggerfall, albeit updated by other musicians. Though other songs from other places might show up.

A Champion's Journey

Jagar Tharn

Ernand Leoriane

Ravenna - Haven't found a good one yet

Neira Hlallu

Ria Silmane - Haven't found a good one yet

Great soundtracks !!! I actually put music to my characters too, and play it while writing their parts in the story.

Chapter Eighteen

The skies above Rihad were turning dim as Ernand and Ravena arrived back at the city from their information-gathering. Though there were dark clouds in the sky, Ernand still shielded his eyes as he looked up to seek the position of Magnus.

“Hey, Ravena?”

Bulling her way through the crowds of peasants passing through the gates of the city, the bounty hunter took a brief second to swirl her head around to grunt at her companion.

Scowling at her, Ernand continued. “Don’t you think it’s getting a little dark? It’s not long past noon, and those clouds don’t look friendly.”

The Breton watched as Ravena spat on the ground, and twirled to face him, an unfriendly and mocking grin pasted on her face. “What is it, Ernand? Afraid of a little rain?”

“Gods no,” Ernand snarled back, “But the temperature is already dropping, and I don’t want to get caught in the rain when it’s almost freezing!”

“Wear a cloak. That is what they’re made for; to keep you warm.”

Ernand made haste to follow as Ravena turned on her heel and continued on her way through Rihad’s gate and up the street. The citizens of the city were out in force now, and Ernand felt as if they were utterly oblivious to the gathering clouds above.



Ernand grimaced at the mangy beast standing in front of him. He had seen mules before, on farms in High Rock. Stout, and sturdy beasts; cheaper than a horse and able to do twice the work, but apparently Hammerfell did not have a good history when it came to mules, for this shabby creature looked careworn, and had seen too many years.

The Breton turned his head at the sudden burst of profanity, and wasn’t surprised to see his companion berating the merchant for, as Ravena colorfully put it, “putting a price tag on a pile of dung”. Ernand laughed in spite of himself, and looked at the other mounts the merchant was selling; powerful, well-bred whites and blacks, far exceeding his price range.

Damnation, he thought as he looked at one of the steeds stamping the ground with a clean hoof, Even before Valenwood I couldn’t have afforded one of these horses. I guess that’s the West; only the rich, their servants, or the lucky have a mount around here. For everyone else, his eyes moved back to the mule, There’s that.

Turning away from the sorry mule, Ernand moved over to behind Ravenna, putting a calming arm on her shoulder. She didn’t look particularly pleased to have it there, but she did stop her tirade, snarling at the merchant as she turned on her heel and stalked out of the stables, leaving the Breton to deal with negotiations.

“Oh, thank you, Good Master,” the Redguard merchant bowed deeply to the Breton, “I thought that monstrous woman was going to take my head off! Did you see how she was fingering her blade? Most dreadful!”

“She might have,” Ernand muttered as he looked out the stables, his eyes finding the bounty hunter tending roughly to her own horse. “Look, I don’t need a prize-winning mount, but neither will I stoop so low as to purchase that,” he extended his arm to point at the mule in the corner. “You have to have something that is of a more reasonable price.”

The merchant, now standing upright again, cupped his chin, and his eyes went downcast in thought. “If you don’t have the money, I can’t sell you a horse,” he said after a few moments, and Ernand’s heart dropped. “However,” he continued, “For five hundred drakes, I’ll sell you one of the camels I keep at the West Gate. It was ill-thought venture of mine to use those camels for desert trading, but that didn’t pan out. I’m losing money just on their upkeep.”

“A camel? I don’t know how to ride a camel.”

“No, no,” the merchant was now very earnest, “It is very easy. Almost like riding a horse. No difference!”

Quirking an eyebrow, Ernand regarded the merchant with no small amount of skepticism. “I’ve seen those beasts before,” he said after a short pause, “And I have seen people ride them. It looks nothing like riding a horse. Not to mention their foul temperament! No, I will not purchase the camel.”

The merchant shrugged his shoulders, and now seemed willing to abandon the sale entirely. Ernand, however, knew that traveling to Stonekeep on foot could take hours, and he didn’t have many options open to him. Sighing, the Breton reached down to his belt and unhooked his pouch of coins. Digging around in it, under the now alert gaze of the merchant, he pulled out forty septims, and dropped them into the merchants outstretched palms.

“I’ll take the mule,” Ernand muttered dejectedly, “At least I know how to ride one of those.”

“Good, good,” the merchant said in an absent tone as he fingered the gold coins greedily, “Take the beast and go.”

Taking a lead from the wall, Ernand moved over to the mule in the corner, who by then had flopped onto his behind, as if it knew it was leaving the comfort of the stables and was trying everything it could to avoid that fate. Grimacing, Ernand tied the lead around the mule’s neck, and with a strong pull, brought the mule up onto its legs.

“Come on, you damnable beast,” Ernand growled through gritted teeth as he pulled at rope tied to the immobile mule, “Come on!” He continued his futile tugging for several minutes before he felt the rope being torn from his hands, and he looked to see Ravenna, annoyance and anger burning on her face, with the lead. With a mighty pull, the mule let out a yelp and scurried towards Ravenna, who shoved the lead back into Ernand’s hands.

“Stop mucking about! If we’re to be on the road by the time the rain comes, we need to leave now!”

Ernand watched as Ravenna once again left the stable and mounted up onto her own horse, and as she wheeled the steed around, she looked at him and pointed towards the north. “You catch up,” she called as she propelled her horse into a slow trot, “Or stay behind. I don’t really care which.” Finished, she spurred her horse faster, and sped off in a cloud of dust.

Rejected, Ernand did nothing for a few minutes but think, How am I supposed to penetrate Fang Lair, let alone rescue the Emperor, when I cannot even get a mule to move! Dammit, Ria, you chose the wrong person!. However, he stopped that line of thought when he felt a nudging at his side, and he looked down to see the mule pushing again him.

“What? You want to be like that horse? Ha,” Ernand let out a mirthless laugh, “Somehow I doubt your stubby legs could carry you, let alone me, that fast.” But the mule continued to nudge him, and Ernand finally relented. “Fine, but if your back breaks, it’s your own fault.”

Swinging a leg over the mule’s back, he lifted himself onto the animal, and he was surprised to see that the beast didn’t seem to mind the weight, and with a light tap at its sides, it began to follow the path left by Ravenna’s more powerful horse, its stubby legs crashing furiously against the ground.

Well, Ernand thought as he balanced himself further on the mule, I’m surprised. And here I thought it would die when I got atop it! Well then, Gods willing, now I’ll be able to get my horse back, and this little guy will serve quite ably as a packmule.



Rain was coming down in a torrent as Ernand and Ravenna rode along the north road into the mountains. Magnus was utterly blocked out by the dark clouds, and the wind had picked up, and it was to the point where Ernand could barely see fifty feet ahead of himself.

“Ravenna!” he yelled out to the woman slightly ahead of him, who seemed to be doing just as bad as he, “We have to stop. I’m soaked clean through, and I don’t think I can take this much longer!”

“Toughen up!” he heard the Redguard call back, “I’ve been through worse. Stonekeep isn’t much further anyway.”

Damn woman, he thought angrily as he spurred the mule under him in an attempt to keep up with Ravenna’s horse, She is going to get us killed, if not out here, then certainly in that goblin-infested palace. Ernand was brought out of his thought when, after rounding a slight bend, he caught his first sight of Stonekeep. Even though it was still a good distance away, the towering edifice of the keep itself was enough to penetrate the dark and the rain. Even though it was far inferior, the palace conjured up images of the Imperial Palace in the Breton’s mind.

“There it is,” Ernand heard Ravenna yell, and she dropped back closer to him, “If I know goblins, and I do, they will be hold up in that keep, or in their own trashy dwellings to protect themselves from the rain.”

“What? So we’ll just waltz right in through the front gate?”

He saw through the rain Ravenna’s bright smile, and his heart sank some that his suspicious was confirmed.

“It’s as if you’re trying to get me killed.”

“Going through the gate will be twice as easy as going over the walls.”

“Yes, and twice as dangerous.”

“So?”

With Ravenna’s apparent disregard for safety, Ernand simply dropped the subject. At the least, he was sure she would go barreling through the gatehouse first. And when she falls, I won’t have to deal with this, and I’ll just take her horse.

It was still another hour before the pair arrived at the walls of the Stonekeep. Dismounting, they both led their mounts along by hand. Shielded on their right from the wind by the wall, they now only had to contend with the torrential rain. Fortunately, Ravenna assured him, this only provided camouflage from goblin eyes. Ernand didn’t quite believe her, but the rain was certainly preferable to a clear day, when goblin sentries could have seen them coming from a mile away.

They moved along the wall for a few minutes before they arrived at the ruined gatehouse. The portcullis was gone, and the great wooden doors were standing wide open. Ernand watched how, after she gave him the reins to her horse, she snuck forward and poked her head into the gatehouse, before finally disappearing into it, motioning for Ernand to follow.

The interior of the gatehouse was dry, albeit terribly foul. Piles of trash, bones, and half-eaten rabbits intermixed with droppings and ash from fire pits.

“We will leave the mounts here,” Ravenna said as she took the reins back from Ernand, leading the horse to a set of stalls that lined the south wall of the gatehouse, “We can’t very well take them with us.”

Ernand couldn’t fault her logic, and he followed her example with his mule. After shutting the stall door, Ernand was then alerted when he heard the ring of steel leaving scabbard, and he whirled around to see that Ravenna had drawn her sword. Following her example, the Breton wrenched his scimitar out of its scabbard.

Hearing Ravenna whisper fiercely, “Give me some light,” Ernand raised his hand in the air and muttered a few words, and a ball of green light shot through the air and hit the ceiling, bathing the gatehouse with soft luminescence. The spell served to reveal the cause of Ravenna’s alarm, two goblins, caked in filth, and passed out on the floor near the wall opposite Ravenna and himself.

They didn’t seem alerted to their presence, and even Ernand knew that was strange. Goblins were not heavy sleepers, and his eyes sought out what could make these creatures sleep so. Ravenna, apparently, had no such need to know, and the Breton could only watch as she advanced towards the slumbering monster. Sword firmly in hand, she wasted no time in thrusting her blade down onto their heads, splitting their skulls open.

“You don’t waste any time, do you?” Ernand asked, his mouth quirking into a grin.

“Ha,” Ravenna let out a quiet laughed as she cleaned her sword using the rags the goblins had worn for clothes, “At least I know you aren’t squeamish. I was sure you’d raise an issue over that.”

“Over goblins? Gods forbid I ever get that soft!”

Safety restored, the pair once again turned their attention toward the task at hand: Stonekeep. The door to the bailey was still intact, although covered in small holes. Fortunately, the holes were large enough to look through.

Lowering himself to his knees, Ernand looked through one of the holes. He couldn’t clearly make out the bailey on the other side, the wind and rain obscuring his vision, but he could see the numerous ugly huts that stood out against the dull gray of Stonekeep’s walls. Ravenna’s eyes, however, were sharper, and her quick intake of breath made the Breton somewhat nervous.

“What? What is it?”

She did not answer him directly, asking, “Detecting life. Do you know a spell that can do that?”

“No,” Ernand answered, shaking his head, “I don’t. It’s not something I ever thought I would need.”

“Pah, you Breton’s are useless!”

Ernand shrugged, not offended by the Redguard’s scorn. Intrigued, however, he ventured to ask, “What do you see out there?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I see no smoke coming out of those huts, so either the goblins are all holed up in the keep, or they simply aren’t here.”

Getting back to his feet, Ernand brushed off the dirt from his pants, and raised his sword. “Perhaps we should risk a dash across the bailey,” he said, grasping the heavy door handle, “It’s better than holing up in here; gods know how long this stench is going to cling to my clothes.”

Ravenna nodded, and together the Redguard and Breton pulled the gatehouse door open. They were instantly assaulted by wind and rain as they got their first real look at Stonekeep’s bailey. Not bothering to take in the scenery, the pair rushed out. While Ravenna saw no need to cover her head, Ernand took care to raise the hood of his cloak, but by the time they had made it to steps of the keep leading into the Great Hall, both were soaked.

“So where do you think your mark is,” Ernand whispered as he lowered his hood and ran a hand through his matted blonde hair, “This place is quite large. It could take hours to cover every nook and cranny.”

She didn’t answer him at once, and Ernand watched as she stepped further into the Hall. In fact, she didn’t seem to be listening at all. She had lowered her sword, and her face took on a blank look as she stared at the moth-eaten tapestries of by-gone glory. Puzzled, the Breton followed her, his own sword ready, and the words for spells present in his mind.

It took the pair a few minutes to walk the length of the hall, until they arrived at the dais. Ernand noticed how Ravenna’s face hardened as she looked down at the broken throne, where the monarchs of Rihad once sat.

“Goblins,” she said suddenly, shocking Ernand enough that he flinched. Ravenna didn’t seem to notice. “Terrible monsters. All they do is destroy. I’m sure this once a great palace, and now look at it.”

Her voice was toneless, and Ernand began to feel a little uneasy. “Yes,” he began haltingly, “They are terrible. High Rock has had its own share of problems with them. But we aren’t here to hunt goblins, Ravenna, we’re here to capture a convict accused of murder and escape from prison, and,” his mouth quirked some, “horse theft.” A light noise echoed in the dismal Hall, and Ernand instantly wheeled about to look back the way they had come. He saw nothing, however, and he lowered his sword. His heart beating furiously, he turned back to Ravenna, saying, “We should leave the Hall. We’re like sitting ducks in here.”

Ravenna seemed to rouse herself from her thoughts, and agreed with a nod of her head. Together, with the Redguard leading, they moved silently through Stonekeep. To Ernand, all of the corridors looked the same, and it wasn’t long before he got turned around. However, he noticed that Ravenna didn’t seem to have that problem, and each turn looked carefully chosen.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Ernand asked as they entered a long hallway lined with shuttered windows.

“Rogues like to have one entrance and two exits. I guarantee you that our quarry didn’t go up into one of the towers.” Ravenna stopped speaking when her foot came into contact with a rough bit of the floor. “Damnation,” she muttered, as she titled her head to call to Ernand, “Give me light, I can’t see a thing in here.”

Obeying, Ernand muttered the incantation and extended his hand, and once again a ball of green light illuminated a dark place. “Heh,” he snorted as he lowered his arm, “Part of me was expecting to see the whole floor strewn with bones and body parts.”

Visible to him now, he could see the scowl that crossed his companion’s dusky face as she muttered, “You think too much.”

Ernand frowned, but raised no objection and continued to follow behind the Redguard. “So,” he said after some moments of silence, “You said she would not have gone up into one of the towers. And we’ve scoured this whole floor here, so where else could she have gone?”

“The goblin tunnels, most likely.”

His face blanched when he heard Ravenna identify their destination, and he began to stammer, “The tunnels? Is she mad?”

“Most likely,” she began, “But Neira’s choice of haven does have some logic to it. Goblins wouldn’t return to their tunnels if they have a whole palace to live in, and they also provide her with a back exit to gods know where if she needs it.”

“And we’re to follow her into a death trap,” Ernand sputtered, his nerve starting to fail him.

Ravenna reply was characteristic, and with a deep growl she replied, “If you’d rather leave, be my guest, but I’m going down to find her!”

Ravenna voice echoed through the corridors, and a chill went down Ernand’s spine. Adjusting his scaled vest to a tighter degree, he raised his hand and muttered a few words, and the spell of light that had lit the hall was dispelled.

“Why’d you do that,” Ravenna said in a rising voice, “I can’t see a thing now!”

Shushing her, Ernand halted his steps to listen. He could hear a small scratching sound through the walls, and a tapping sound behind them, along with the sound of metal hitting stone. Whirling, Ernand raised his right hand, and with the words of magick spoken, another spell of light shot through the darkness towards the beginning of the corridor. The ball of light hit something, and exploded, revealing a trio of armed goblins covering their sensitive eyes from the light.

He heard Ravenna spit out a curse behind him, and he, too, felt like swearing. Instead, he back up some until he was beside Ravenna, and he asked, “So what is the plan?”

Taking only a few moments to think, Ravenna turned her head to Ernand, “Do you know spells from the College of Destruction?”

Ernand nodded.

“Fry them, freeze them, I don’t care. Just get rid of them. Our cover is blown anyway.”

Nodding again, Ernand moved forward a few feet, and sheathed his sword. By then, the three goblins had recovered their eyesight, and were rapidly advancing towards the Breton and Redguard, screaming in the foul tongue. Raising his arms and extending his point and pinky fingers on both hands, the Breton summoned his magick, saying under his breath, “Csavarok a villám,” and small bands of electricity began to spark between his outstretched fingers. The energy built until the sparks became a clear stream, and the energy was great enough that Ernand released the spell.

Two magical bolts of lightning launched from the Breton’s hands, streaking through the air forty feet until they struck one of the goblins, sending the monster flying backwards until it slammed onto the hard floor, twitching as the electricity continued to run through its body.

The other two goblins halted their advance, slightly perturbed by this display of civilized magick. Ernand took the chance offered to him, and sent two balls of light towards the monsters, making them illuminated targets in the shadowed corridor. Behind him, he heard Ravenna whispering an oath before she raised her sword and charged past him.

I liked Ernand's musing about horses being a rare expense in western Tamriel. A nice bit of world-building. Likewise, his travails with the merchant, and the mule, were good bits of reality that make your story believable. Gandalf and Aragorn never had mundane problems like that! The fact that Ernand does paints him as a real person, rather than fantasy hero.

And when she falls, I won’t have to deal with this, and I’ll just take her horse.
I like how Ernand thinks!

A very clever use of the light spell by Ernand at the end, blinding the goblins with it. A very rich description of Ernand's lightning bolts as well!


Nits:
the palace conjured up images of the Imperial Palace in the Breton’s mind
Perhaps you meant the place here?


they will be hold up in that keep
In this context, that would be holed.

The interaction between them, especially Ernand's grousing to himself - and the priceless scene with the Redguard selling the horses - Awesome Write!! What a great chapter !!!