Well, I've decided to try my hand at fan fiction. I shall start my fan fiction career (the size of which will depend entirely on your first impressions of my first chapter) with a story which I've been playing around with in my head a while now.

'A Knight Without Fear or Blame' is the title. I think it was Khalid ibn al-Walid first said that or maybe it was Saladin. It was one of them, but I'm rambling now.
Anyway, this story will be about an Imperial from a certain village and he… well, I don't want to spoil the story for you. I plan on stretching it out for as long as possible without killing any entertainment value it has (I'll let you decide if it has any or not) across multiple paragraphs, chapters and acts (though I think 'act' is more of a term used in drama, rather than stories but I digress).
Also, the main character 'Lucius Andronicu' (kudos if you get the referance) originally started out as 'Titus Saepio.'

Oh, and I pride myself on my grammar, spelling. But, my keyboard seems to live in order to spite me so please point out any typos.

P.S Please bear in mind I am a complete amateur at writing anything creative, poetry, prose or whatever. So be kind. But not too kind. Just don't be merciless.

At that, let's get this show on the road.
I present to you, a poor excuse of a prologue and a better (I hope) excuse for a first chapter.



Prologue:

It was a clear and cold evening. The last of the suns rays had long since disappeared in the west and the people of Grimdale Moor slept soundly in their beds, blissfully unaware of the approaching threat. From the west, an Orcish war band approached, their war chief was hungry for blood and loot. To a larger, better defended town, such a band would pose no threat whatsoever. But although Grimdale Moor was town of reasonable size, the local Knights of the Hour had left their chapterhouse and gone to fight in the King's Army, leaving only a small band of the weak, incompetent or those disliked by the chapter master behind to defend the town. Grimdale Moor was an easy target to any marauding warband.


Chapter One: A Night of Grief

Lucius Andronicus awoke with a start to the sound of steel clanging on steel, wood splintering, horses whinnying, fire roaring and people screaming. Orange flames illuminated his bedroom and smoke from his neighbours burning house seeped in through the window. He quickly rose from his bed and got himself dressed, fear overtook his nine year old mind, as he did so he could hear the clash of steel grow louder, accompanied by savage cries.
As the boy pulled on his dark green cloak, the noise stopped and a broad shouldered figure burst into his room, wielding a sword. Fear quickly overtook the boy, only for that fear to be washed away as orange flames illuminated his father's face. Lucius recognised the sword, it was a long, hand and a half sword. Steel, made from Wrothgarian iron, the best in Tamriel Father had always said. He had been mending the hilt for some Knight from Wayrest who didn't trust the smiths of that city. The pommel was the head of a bear, the seal of the untrusting knight's family.

"Lucius." He said simply, a look of relief on his face, the body of a great big green Orc lay behind him, it's face covered by Father's cloak. Lucius had seen dead bodies before, despite his young age of nine. Orcs often raided the village, but never in such great numbers, and there had always been soldiers of Wayrest garrisoning the village. But now the soldiers were no more, the King had drawn them away to fight some war with Daggerfall over some distant island. But boys of nine did not concern themselves with such things, boys of nine busied themselves with climbing trees, fishing, playing tricks on the local mages and playing games with other boys of nine.
"Come, we have to leave." He said, suddenly growing more anxious as more vicious war cries were heard.
"But where?" Lucius asked as he grabbed his sling and a small bag of smooth pebbles he had collected from the nearby stream.
"Chorrol." Father said sharply as he grabbed Titus' arm and dragged him from his room. "My brother stays there, he will take us in and I'm sure they have need of blacksmiths there." The house was a blur to Lucius as he was pulled through it. It was all he could do to keep his short legs moving at a pace that would not have him dragged along the hard wooden floors. From what he did see however, Father had killed at least two other Orcs judging from the large green hunks of flesh found by the door of the kitchen.

Upon reaching the small, two storied house's door, Father set Lucius down and drew his knightly honoured user sword again. "Stay close to me Titus. Don't run off and stay away from the flames, we make for the stables." The village had a stables on it's outskirts. Or rather, the Knight of the Hour chapterhouse had a stables and their Altmeri commander was good enough to allow the people of the village to stable their horses. For a small fee. So kind-hearted of him, particularly after the village's own stables had burned down in a suspicious fire and the stable hand had been murdered. Lucius had often heard such talk as the village women washed their clothing and linens at the lake while he and his friends played Kick the Mudcrab.

Father cautiously pulled the heavy Wrothgarian Pine door open and peered outside, Lucius caught a glimpse of a Legion Destrier, a man in bronze coloured Armour mounted atop it, slashing his sword at the Orcs who surrounded him and his steed, armed with swords, one or two with spears. They were kept at bay by the horseman's sword and the horse's hooves, it looked like more than one Orc had been foolish enough to move to the rear of the animal. The man was Samuel deBrume, the second in command of the Legion garrison at Oxvale Borough, to the south west. A kind man who was visiting the town for unknown reasons. He had often saved the villagers from extortion by the corrupt Order of the Hour, much to the chagrin of that order.

"Stay here, Lucius." His Father rushed to help the man, he slashed his sword across the back of the nearest Orc, attracting the attention of two others.
Lucius placed a smooth white stone in his sling and swung it around his head for a few moments before releasing it and sending the projectile hurtling towards a bulky Orc armed with a long halberd. The stone struck the Orc in the side of the head and sent the beast down to the ground, dead. An excellent shot.
Father said nothing about not using my sling.
He had never killed an Orc, though it didn't feel any different to killing a rabbit or that hawk.
All animals are the same anyway I suppose.

By the time Lucius had downed another two Orcs, the small skirmish was over and a total of twelve bodies lay at the feet of the warhorse. Thankfully, neither Titus' father nor Samuel deBrume was one of them.
"You have my thanks, Caius," Lucius had rarely heard his father called by his first name. Most called him 'Andronicus' or 'blacksmith'. Even Mother had called him 'darling' rather than Caius, "You should leave this village," the soldier looked to Lucius and smiled, though it was difficult to see in the dim light. "I shall escort you to the-" he was interrupted by war cries sounding the approach of yet more Orcs. "Go Caius, take your son, I shall deal with these beasts." At that, he was off, charging his bay Destrier into the green mass. Father wasted no time in heeding the man's words.
"Come Lucius!" He called, Lucius ran after him. Not even looking to see if the Legionary was still alive.

"You did well, son." He puffed as they approached the gates of the corral. The stable itself was burning and the horses were frightened by the flames, several had jumped over the fence and fled into the distance. Lysa, Father's white mare was still there however, being saddled by another villager.
"Hey! Stop! That's my horse," Father drew his sword and entered the pen.
"Try and stop me fool. I was here first." He in turn picked an axe from the ground and moved towards Father, crossing the corral and passing near the stable itself, there was a tremendous crash and part of the stable building came down on top of the man and those horses who were still stood too close. Lysa, thankfully was not one of them.
Wordlessly, Father mounted the horse and pulled Lucius up to sit in front of him. They galloped off on the road leading south-west. The flames of their former home illuminating their path.

Lucius said nothing, sobbing silently for all he had lost. He even thought he heard his father crying on a few occasions. But that was impossible, Father never cried, not when he hit his hand with a hammer while repairing the Chapel roof, not when he cut himself while working. Never.
But they had nothing. No clothes, no home, no food. Nothing but the shirts on their back, Lucius' sling, Father's sword and their horse. They would never reach Chorrol with what they had with them. They had to go to Wayrest

*******

Addendum (well, I think this is what an addendum is anyway): The story starts in the year 412 of the third era, late Sun's Dusk (November). There will be a date in every update from chapter eight onwards.


This post has been edited by TheBrume: Jan 31 2012, 09:43 PM

Ok I’m going to point out some things that bothered me.

… hand and a half sword, sometimes called a honoured user sword.
Looks like you got tripped up by the forum’s censors.

I’m no author, but you seem to include details that are not relevant to what is happening. In the middle of a scene of action, such details pull the reader (me) out of the story.

Some other details that bothered me were during the fight with Legion Destrier against more Orcs.
Spears would be used to kill the horse and swarm the downed solder, not jab him directly on his heavy plate armor. Halberds would be used to pull someone off of the horse.

Also during the fight, the nine year old somebody killed an orc (or multiple orcs) with a sling shot? I am not buying it. EDIT: Sorry, that's much more harsh than I intended. It just isn't very believable.

I am not sure what the 9 year old’s name is either. I think it is Lucius, but this sentence:
Thankfully, neither Titus' father nor Samuel deBrume was one of them.
refers to him as Titus, which I believe is the father’s name.

Next when the stables collapse, how is it that it kills the man stealing the horse without killing the horse as well? Why were either one of them so close to a building burning so badly that it collapses?
----------------------------------

I’m not trying to be vicious, just pointing out some areas that bothered me. I think you have a start of an interesting story. Keep practicing and posting!



This post has been edited by King Coin: Oct 12 2011, 02:42 AM

Welcome to the Arena!

Well, that's certainly the start of something. A poor little nine-year-old witnessing Orsimer bands ravage his home? Yikes!

By the names of towns you mentioned, you gave several subtle hints that we are in High Rock. I've never seen a fiction take place in the home of the Bretons before. Part of me actually wants to stay there!
But this is your tale, so it is your decision to go wherever you want to go. A journey to Chorrol sounds neat! I look forward to reading more about it!

Lucius had often heard such talk as the village women washed their clothing and linens at the lake while he and his friends played Kick the Mudcrab.

Naughty!

A few pointers:

King Coin has already noted the forum auto-censor has issues with the father's blade. Not your fault, though.

Father said sharply as he grabbed Titus' arm and dragged him from his room.

"Stay close to me Titus. Don't run off and stay away from the flames, we make for the stables."

These passages, along with several others, reference someone named Titus, who we've never been introduced to. I got very confused reading through the battle because I got hung up on the names and couldn't figure out who was talking to whom. Perhaps Titus was Lucius's name before you decided to change it? That's what I concluded, at least.

Lucius prided himself on his accuracy with his sling, his skill far surpassed all the other boys, even those older than him. He could hit any doe from over eighty paces and he could put through the windows of the local Mage's Guild even in the dark. He had once downed a hawk as it soared above the village.

This is a classic example of "show, don't tell." Don't tell us about Lucius's skill through reminiscent soliloquy, show us by having him do something skillful!

Although, really, I have to agree with KC here. Killing a full-grown Orsimer berserking through town with a single tiny river pebble does sound kinda far-fetched. These guys are known to take arrows through their spleens and keep fighting regardless. And despite all his practice, I really do doubt that someone who is only nine years old would have enough strength to crack an orc skull.

But keep on posting! Your skill will refine itself as you work and evolve the story. And we are always here to help and give pointers.

This post has been edited by Thomas Kaira: Oct 11 2011, 11:49 PM

Welcome to our world of fanfic!

This is off to a wonderful start. Plenty of action and characterization of the boy and his father. Enough detail to impart a sense of realism to both the situation and their lives.

I too, suspect ‘Titus’ may be left over from previous edits?

I think you have your paragraphs broken down well, but not all your spaces between them made it in when you posted. For example, it looks like the forum jammed your first four paragraphs all together. A good edit in the preview mode on the forum (or even a PM to yourself) can help with formatting things such as paragraph spaces and help you deal with those honored users that can sometimes slip in there too.

Welcome, Brume! I’m so glad you’re sharing your story here, even in not your favorite font.

I was drawn in right away when Lucius woke up in the middle of the attack. Recognizing that the sword-wielding man bursting into his room was his father was a breathless moment. You did a great job putting us right in Lucius’ terrified, nine-year old mind. I like your description of the sword, but I didn’t realize until the end of Lucius’ thoughts that he was thinking about it because it wasn’t his father’s sword. Is that right?

"You have my thanks, Titus," Lucius had rarely heard his father called by his first name. Most called him 'Andronicus' or 'blacksmith'. Even Mother had called him 'darling' rather than Caius,
I had some Titus/Caius confusion here. I know how easy it is for this to happen when I’m writing – I always read the words that my brain knows should be there, no matter what my eyes see.

I had the sense that Caius would have killed the man who was stealing his horse, even though he was a fellow villager. It was a desperate flight from the burning village, and he had to protect his son.

I thought the last two paragraphs were perfect. I look forward to the Andronicus men’s journey to Wayrest. It seems that Lucius is going to have to grow up fast. You’ve made a great start, I encourage you to continue your story!



ETA: Kick the Mudcrab!

This post has been edited by Grits: Oct 12 2011, 04:36 AM

Followed by Orcs? What could they want with fickle Lucius and his swashbuckling father? Hmm...

But the others still came, closer and closer. Lucius cowered, he felt a warm, wet patch forming in his breeches. A faint smell of urine drifted upwards, irritating his nostrils.

Do not feel embarrassed, Lucius. It happens even to the best of us sometimes.

As he did so, he noticed that Father had wrapped a white rag around his leg. A dark red stain spread across it.
"I'm fine. Promise." He said as he pulled himself atop Lysa, behind Lucius.

Why do I get the feeling someone is not being entirely honest here?

You've piqued my interest with the Knights of the Rose and particularly the Order of the Hour (a faction that is actually modded into my game). As I have come to see, the Order of the Hour as portrayed to me (and the mod is quite lore-accurate) are devotees of the Nine, and dedicated to the protection of their worshippers given their healthy presence in Cyrodiil's city chapels. I wonder how you will make them out to be? As many will tell you here, lore is nice, but feel free to adjust it as you see fit. This is Tamriel as you imagine it, not Bethesda.

ADDENDUM: The Order of the Hour are the Knights of the Akatosh Chantry (the high priests of Akatosh). They are sworn to uphold His teachings and defend all who follow them. Brother Martin, for example, was a member of the Akatosh Chantry before the attack on Kvatch.

Of course, none of this lore on the Nine Divines made it into Oblivion. Quite a shame, really, considering the primary religion of Cyrodiil IS the faith of the Nine Divines. This is all stuff from back in the days of Daggerfall. Fitting, given the location, for you to mention it.

Nits:

A war which had no doubt endured for centuries and was no doubt taking place all across High Rock, Tamriel even.

You repeat "no doubt" two times in rather quick succession here, which stagnates an otherwise very evocative passage a bit. You might consider swapping one of them out for something else.

But all that was gone now there was only Father and Lysa.

I get the feeling there is a comma missing here.

Just doing out duty to the people of Wayrest.

I think you mean "our." Guess your finger must've slipped there.

This post has been edited by Thomas Kaira: Oct 13 2011, 08:19 PM

Lucius is having a rough night. I like the description of the dark forest with the trees trying to crowd each other out. I could really picture poor Lucius hiding under a bush, terrified and grieving over his lost home and friends. I think it’s very fitting that he pretty much missed the battle.

As he did so, he noticed that Father had wrapped a white rag around his leg. A dark red stain spread across it.

Uh oh.

By the way, I love it when stories make me look things up in the lore.

Oh I hope Titus isn’t lying about that injury.

You set the scene well. It was rather eerie, especially with the dark forest and the howling wolves.

I also like how Lucius withdrew into himself during the fighting. Excellent.

This was great! You are still doing a great job of showing us who Lucius is via actions, his observations and dialogue. We are getting to gradually know him and of his life in a nice gradual manner.

You painted some very nice images here of a foreboding forest, orc attack and knightly assistance. A pleasure to read.

There are two area that I submit for your consideration:

1. Consider separating all your paragraphs so the visual impact is easier in forum format. It can be a tad intimidating to read a large chunk of text on the forum without spacings. For example, everything in section 2 below could have certainly been provided without spaces between the short paragraphs. I hope you will agree however that it is much easier on the eyes with a space between each paragraph, even though they are all related.

2. Perspective or point of view. Clearly, you are writing from Lucius’ POV as he tells us his story and that is a perfect choice. Yet on two occasions in this episode you briefly jumped to what is called ‘omniscient third person’:

’Though if Lucius were to look up, he would see an orange tinted, moonless night sky.’
‘He never heard the clash of steel on steel and whiz of spells.’

Lucius did not know these things so neither should we if the story is in his perspective. Both these passages snap us right out of Lucius’ head and make us realize we are reading a story being told by an all knowing writer, not young Lucius. I recommend you avoid changing perspectives in the middle of a scene. Changing perspectives at all during a book should be a very notable and clearly delineated event if done at all and only if it makes reorienting the reader worth it.

Thomas Kaira
I'm going to give a few spoilers and say that the Knights of the Rose will play a minor part in this story. There will be other knightly orders, though I won't spoil that part.

Grits
Thank you.

King Coin
Thanks again.
I originally had the wolves attacking. Not sure why I changed it, I think it just seemed better.

Concerning Lucius' dad, well I'm not going to spoil it by saying he dies in the next chapter (just kidding of course).

Acadian
1. I agree now that I look back on it, I'll seperate them a bit more now.
2. Thanks for pointing that out.

Thanks to everyone for your comments on the quality of that chapter. I didn't think that it was very good. But I guess the saying 'quality over quantity' holds true (though I still don't like the title). And I'm still going to increse to quantity though.

Chapter Two: Oxcross Borough

The first tendrils of the sun's light crept through the treetops. Lucius and his father had been riding atop the white mare, Lysa, for some time. Stopping only to allow Lysa to drink from the brook which they had came across some hours ago. At the start of their flight from Grimdale, they were on the road, but somewhere along the way they had lost the track and ended up within the forest where they had been ambushed by Orcs and then rescued by Knights of the Rose. A Bosmer ranger was escorting them.
Judging by the way the sun fell upon the side of their heads, it seemed they were going in the right direction.

"Oxcross Borough should be just beyond that rise there." Aranil, the Bosmeri ranger, assigned to escort them to Oxcross Borough said as he pointed to a small rise, the distinctive top halves of Willow trees could be seen poking their tops out above it. A tell tale sign of water.
"What will we do then?" Lucius asked sleepily. He had cried through most of the night, he couldn't cry any more even if he wanted too.
Father sighed, "I will sell Lysa. She flipped a shoe on the ride here and I don't think she has the strength to reach Wayrest." The mare perked up her ears and snorted as if in agreement. "I want to reach the city soon before those bast- I mean before the Daggerfall Navy blockades the port."

Technically, Daggerfall wasn't at war with Wayrest. Daggerfall was at war with Sentinel over the Isle of Betony. But the people of Wayrest were suspicious of Daggerfall's ambitions. So King Eadwyre had taken the army to the borders and prepared the fleet.

When Lysa crested the rise, Oxcross Borough lay before them. The town was rather large, much more so than Grimdale Moor. It was, as the name implied, deemed prosperous and populous enough to be a self governing borough and important enough for the Kings of Wayrest to allow construction of city walls.
The party descended the ridge and skirted a small lake within which several ducks were quacking away merrily.

"We will take you to Mayor Harlow and Sir Gwendyn. They will want to speak with you." said the Aranil the Bosmer as the horses approached the portcullis of the city gates.
"Sir Gwynden? The Hero of Kathgran Vale? Paladin of the Knights of the Rose?" Lucius asked excitedly. He had heard of Sir Gwynden, as had the rest of Tamriel, he was very famous.
"The very same." The Bosmer laughed.

Lucius barely contained his energy as he strode along the red carpeted marble hallway of the Mayoral Palace. Excitement welled within him, he was eager to meet Sir Gwynden. Lucius and his father had arrived in Oxcross Borough yesterday, they had been treated to rooms in the palace and a hearty breakfast. And now they were going to meet Sir Gwynden!

The happiness fled from Lucius mind as he remembered why they were meeting him.
If only Allon and Cyrus were here to see this... He thought.
He quickly pushed those thoughts from his mind. Best not to think of those things, especially now that his tear ducts had refilled themselves.

As he and Father entered the audience chamber, Lucius caught a glimpse of their hosts. The Mayor was sat upon a large chair with a red cushion, a larger, more extravagant throne sat on a raised pedestal to his left.
"Reserved for the King himself." Father whispered into his ear.

The Mayor wore black finery with gold embroidery, the colour of mourning. Around his neck lay a large, yet simple golden chain. The Mayor had a fat, round face and multiple chins. He had a round body too.

To the throne's right, stood a literal 'Knight in Shining Armour.'
To Lucius' eyes, the knight was a giant. He stood a good foot or so taller than Father. He completely dwarfed the Mayor and the chair he sat on. It was no wonder the Knight stood. If he was sitting, he would have looked incredibly foolish. His armour was made of some black metal. It had gold coloured patterns criss-crossing it's face. The shape of a rose stood out clearly. Despite the gold and black colour, Lucius could still see his reflection in the cuirass. The man wore no helmet, exposing his features. He had a full head of black hair, though it appeared to be greying. It flowed down his face, stopping just above his shoulders. He was a Breton, though it was difficult to tell. He possessed a gaunt face, more common amongst mer or Imperials. And his skin was very pale, like that of a Nord's. His ears were slightly pointed, similar to an Altmer and his hair seemed wiry like that of a Redguard's. Though the Breton in him was there. His jaw was more rounded out, his nose was more upturned and his forehead was larger than that of an Imperial's.

To be sure, the Knight appeared an amalgamation of all the races, excepting perhaps the Khajiit and Argonians, though Lucius half expected him to have a tail and blink sideways.
This was Sir Gwynden.

"Greetings." Said the Mayor, warmly but with a tint of sadness, "I welcome you to Oxcross Borough, though I wish it were under happier circumstances. I grieve for your loss, truly I do." The Mayor did not meet either Father's nor Lucius' eyes as he spoke. A sign of a weak or untrustworthy person, Father had always said.

"I too, am sorry. I would hope you would tell us of what happened at Grimdale Moor. I'm afraid you two are the only survivors." Sir Gwynden spoke with a deep, booming yet gentle voice. Unlike the Mayor, he met both their eyes when he spoke, and his own were filled with pity, sadness and kindness.

Father hesitated leaning heavily on the cane which had been given to him. His leg hurt him badly and he had refused magical healing.
"It was an attack milords. Orcs." He spoke slowly, six eyes were on him all the while. "One of their warbands came down from the Wrothgarians in the dead of night. They snuck into the centre of town before setting upon it. Looting and burning everything. Even the chapel wasn't safe milords, I saw it go up in flames myself. I only managed to get me and my son to safety because I was still awake, working in my forge."

Both the Mayor and Sir Gwynden looked troubled. The latter spoke,
"They snuck in you say? This is troubling indeed. Do you think-"

An old, tall (though certainly not as tall as Sir Gwynden), scrawny man in ragged white robes interrupted. Lucius had not seen him, he had been standing in the corner inconspicuously. As he got closer, Lucius noticed there was a white cloth tied around his eyes, he walked with a stick held out in front of him, but he moved rather gracefully nonetheless.

"Intelligence, Sir Knight." The Blind Man's long grey beard bobbed up and down as he spoke. "Surely you have heard the rumours? That the Orcs have been staging well planned, well executed attacks against settlement all across High Rock? That one of their number has proclaimed himself king of Orsinium?" The Robed Man stood straight as an arrow and not hunched over as would be expected of one as ancient as he looked. "The tales of a drunken farmer on market day you may think, but drunken farmers do not travel all across the Wrothgarians. And I have heard the same rumours from experienced rangers and mercenaries."
"What is your point Aeron?" The Mayor blurted.

"My point… is that our good King Eadwyre is a fool to hold Daggerfall to suspect, when his eyes should fall upon Orsinium. As the Scrolls have foretold."

"Choose your words carefully sage. They border on treason." Gwynden growled, all the sympathy in his eyes were gone, replaced by something else. Suspicion or hatred perhaps.

The Blind Man grunted and waved his hand, "No matter." He turned to Lucius and his vision would have bored into him, if he could see, alas, the man's eyes were covered by a white cloth. Lucius shuddered to think that there may have been gaping holes where his eyeballs should be.

"Tell us, what of the Order of the Hour? They have… they had a sizable presence in the town." Though the man was facing at the boy, it was clear he was speaking to Lucius' father.

"The King took them milord, he took them to his armies to fight Daggerfall."
Sir Gwynden looked uncomfortable. "The Order of the Hour is a religious order… King Eadwyre has no right to levy them from their Chapels."

"Indeed." The Blind Man said simply. "But I fear that these matters are not the concern of a blacksmith, and prophecy which entwines itself with these events is not the destiny of the Blacksmith's son." He smiled a smile which made Lucius feel uneasy. The Mayor looked mortified and Sir Gwynden, angry.
"No milords," said Father, "I believe good sir is correct. Me and my son make for Cyrodiil, my brother will take us in. We hope to barter passage on a ship at Wayrest." Father spoke in an unhappy tone, more than unhappy. Resignation. Reluctance.

Sir Gwynden calmed down, "I see. Please, allow me to grant you use of a carriage, it will get you there much more quickly than on foot."
"And you shall stay for today to rest, I shan't take 'no' for an answer." The Mayor intoned.

And so Lucius and his father stayed at Oxcross Borough for the day. Lucius spent the day speaking with Sir Gwynden and a few of his knights, he was even taught a few things with a sword. Father would have been proud had he seen, but Father remained in his chambers, resting his pained leg. And they set off at dawn the next day, travelling on a finely crafted carriage led by a pair of strong horses.




This post has been edited by TheBrume: Oct 15 2011, 03:58 PM

This episode moves things along well, and I was relieved to see father and son reach a relatively safe respite.

You provide a wonderful contrast in characters here. Your physical descriptions perfectly matched the dialogue and mannerisms of each. The chubby, perhaps bureaucratic Mayor. The powerfully noble Sir Gwyden. The enigmatic and frail aged sage. The interesting trio sheds some nice depth and mystery on politics in the northern provinces.

’And they set off at dawn the next day, travelling on a finely crafted carriage led by a pair of strong horses.’
This is some fine writing! It would be easy to render this passage flavorless, but your additions of ‘dawn’, ‘finely crafted’ and ‘pair of strong horses’ transform the action into a delight to read and envision. Beginning a sentence with 'And' or 'But' can be tricky and overdone or sparringly used to excellent effect. There are, however, definitely times and places for it. And you sure nailed one here. Well done!

At this point, your story is coming along nicely. You may want to consider reading some of the excellent fan fiction tales here in order to benefit from exposure to differing styles and technique. Additionally, there is no better way to maintain the readership of other writers than to return their support.


Nits:

Judging by the way the sun fell upon the side of their head’s,
You want heads, not the possessive head’s.

’The town was rather large, much larger than Grimdale Moor. It was, as the name implied, deemed prosperous and populous enough to be a self governing borough, large and important enough for the Kings of Wayrest to allow construction of city walls.’
I would not use ‘large’ (or forms of it) three times in such a small passage for two reasons. First, you are overly describing the size of the town. Second, it is generally good to avoid repeating a significant word in close proximity.

’The happiness Lucius mind as he remembered why they were meeting him.’
This sentence does not make sense in content or structure.

’and his forehead was larger than that of an Imperials.
Here, you do want the possessive: Imperial’s.

’Father hesitated, he leaned heavily on the can which had been given to him.’
A humorous image of Father on the can, but I suspect you meant cane. Also, the two clauses involved do not lend themselves to connection by comma. Since the second one begins with a pronoun for Father, two sentences would be okay: ‘Father hesitated. He leaned heavily on the cane which had been given to him.’ Much better however, would be to keep the comma but dump the pronoun: ‘Father hesitated, leaning heavily on the cane which had been given to him.’

This post has been edited by Acadian: Oct 15 2011, 01:32 AM

Definitely better the way you have it.

I liked the descriptions. I could clearly imagine the each of the characters in my mind.

… though Lucius half expected him to have a tail and blink sideways.
This made me smile.

So we are definitely beginning at the start of the events of Daggerfall. The beginning of The Warp in the West. A shame these two shan't be taking part, though. It would have been nice to have a Daggerfall fic, but it's your story.

“Sir Gwynden? The Hero of Kathgran Vale? Paladin of the Knights of the Rose?” Lucius asked excitedly. He had heard of Sir Gwynden, as had the rest of Tamriel, he was very famous.

That perked him up! I like how thrilled Lucius was to meet him, and how he resolved to deal with his sadness. All of his emotions have a youthful flavor. I was even excited for him when a real knight taught him some things with a sword.

That was a great scene in the audience chamber. We learned a lot in a perfectly natural way, watching the grown-ups talk. As Acadian and King Coin said, all three of them were clear in my mind.

It’s a relief to see Father on his feet, even with a cane.

Acadian
Thanks. I originally had another chapter in the forest before they reach Oxcross. But I decided to cut i, nothing much happened in it anyway.
And I'm already reading a few of the other stories here. Buffy is one of them, I just haven't caught up yet and I son't want to be posting a comment about what happened thirty episodes ago.

King Coin
Thank you for your support.

Thomas Kaira
I did consider doing a Daggerfall story. But I haven't played enough of that game.
You know, Lucius was originally going to be from a village in Hammerfell after the Oblivion Crisis.

Grits
Thank you for your praise.

I'm sorry if it seems like I'm rushing through the plot a little, but I'm eager for Lucius to reach Chorrol (maybe his dad will get there too) so I can get on with the "main" story. There's still at least 7-12 chapters (after these next two) before he gets there though.


Chapter Three: Wayrest

The carriage drew to a stop before the gates with a whinny of protest from one of the horses. It was sitting in the middle of the road, which caused more than a few insults to be thrown at the driver as mule drawn carts carrying barrels of mead, bales of hay or baskets of apples were forced to go around.

"This is as far as I take you I'm 'fraid." said the plump Redguard as he opened the door of the carriage. Lucius quickly jumped out and took a look at the city. Despite the rockiness of the journey, Lucius had gotten plenty of rest in the two days they had been travelling and now he was eager to stretch his legs.

The huge, wooden gates towered above everything, mighty towers of grey stone flanked them and Lucius could make out guardsmen peering through the crenels of the walls.

Wayrest. Jewel of High Rock, only Daggerfall came close and Wayrest surpassed that lesser city by a wide margin. Lucius had never seen walls or gates so large, he had never seen a city so huge and he had never seen so many people, horses, carts, donkeys, mules, carriages or pigeons. So much stone! Near all of the buildings in Grimdale Moor had been built from wood, except Father's workshop, the chapel and the Mages Guild. Even Oxcross Borough which was, until now, the grandest city Lucius' nine year old eyes had set themselves upon had been crafted mostly of wood, with it's walls and the Mayoral Palace being the only stone buildings he had seen.

Father dismounted after Lucius, though with some difficulty. He grunted and fell to one knee, his cane spinning away from him. A wave of panic washed over Lucius for a few moments. It vanished as the driver helped Father to his feet and brought him his cane.

"Thank you." He grunted. Lucius' attention was brought to his father's bandages. They were changing colour, crimson spread lazily across the white. Both Father and the driver seemed to ignore it.

"We'll be going now. Thanks again." Father said, more clearly this time. "Come Lucius." He hobbled along, gripping his cane so tight his knuckles were white.
A short guardsman, perhaps only a half-dozen years older than Lucius ran past them up towards the carriage driver.
"What business do you have in Wayrest?" His steel helmet fell down over his eyes, causing him to be adjusting it constantly.
Lucius ignored the heated conversation which followed as he passed through the city gates.
The first of his senses to be affected was sight. A long street stretched out before him, tall stone buildings on either side. There were hundreds of pigeons perched on rooftops and statues (the latter being coated in white). The people were everywhere, men pushing wheel barrows down the road, women were hanging out of some of the windows, calling down to passers-by about things which Lucius didn't quite understand, most of it seemed to concern hay or straw. He assumed that all the women had horses which needed to be fed. Some of them also seemed to want to roll down a hill.

There were children running about the streets, brandishing swords with guards chasing them and confiscating the weapons. That meant that it was 20th of Sun's Dusk. Warrior's Day. All of the smiths and armourers of Tamriel would sell their wares at half price. It suddenly struck him how warm it had been these last few days, unseasonably so.

Lucius had never seen so many people before. People of all races, doing many different things. Imperials caroused with Khajiit. Dunmer loitered with Redguards. Altmer yelled at Argonians. Imperials joked with Bosmer. All this activity produced noise, the second of Lucius' senses to be affected by Wayrest.

It was so loud. The city streets rang with the sounds of small skirmishes. Angry guardsmen and injured boys. Donkeys brayed and horses neighed. There was so much shouting. People hawking their wares, whatever they may have been. To passers-by. Bards were singing on street corners, their songs added to the many hundreds of sounds which assaulted Lucius' ears. He clamped his hands over his ears to drown out the noise.

The third thing which struck him was the smell. The smell was foul. Sewage, sweat, horses, smoke and gods know what else polluted the air. It made Lucius gag and retch. He unclamped his ears and pinched his nose. The sound returned but it was preferable to the smell.

He heard his Father speaking, but the words were drowned out by the rest of the city. Lucius simply followed his father, gingerly sidestepping the steaming brown piles which littered the road. The traversed the main street and after several minutes of walking, they came across a market square. Lucius unpinched his nose and many much more pleasant aromas entered up his nostrils.
Ash yams, Kwama eggs and hackle-lo from Morrowind. Ginger, pepper and aniseed from Elsweyr. Mangoes, pineapples and limes from Valenwood. Lucius had smelled these things only a few times before. Trading caravans would come through Grimdale Moor once a year.

The square still had the same level of noise as the city gates. But it was a different kind of loud. Much less savage, much easier on Lucius' ears.
And the market looked spectacular. It was clean. The buildings here were of a lighter shade of grey. Not the darker shaded, brown stained grey which had been common at the gate. There were stalls everywhere. Merchants clad in velvet, samite, cotton and silk manned the stalls in the centre. While poorer traders manned the outer stalls. In the very centre stood a large fountain and a statue of a regal looking man clad in fine robes. He had a large, four sided stone hanging on his neck by a chain.

There were large, colourful banners and many bolts of cloth and silk. There were strange beasts in cages. Most of which frightened Lucius.
One creature was called a 'Scamp' (Lucius knew this as there was a sign above the cage announcing so), it looked incredibly vicious, it's hands, feet, head and torso were bald, yet it's legs were covered in black hair. The beast looked incredibly angry, it smashed it's fists against the bars and tried to claw at passers-by. It even cast a spell at the merchant who was selling it. Yet the fireball failed to pass through the bars, it fizzed futilely against an invisible shield.

There were also large, flabby, white things with no arms or legs. They dragged themselves along on large fins. They had a large hole instead of a mouth and they made strange honking noises at each other.
There were huge, white bears. Enormous, striped orange cats. Big creatures with a leathery skin which looked like a walking mouth.
Lucius stared at all the fantastic animals as he held onto his father's cloak so he wouldn't get lost.

Much to Lucius' dismay, they eventually left the market and he found himself gaping, not at scamps or bears, but at a huge… thing. It was enormous, it stretched out to the east as far as the eye could see. It was big and blue and wet. The sea.

They were at the waterfront. Here, instead of pigeons, there were white birds. They screeched and squawked at each other and they swooped down to snatch fish from skiffs and barrels. All along the docks, there were dozens of ships of many shapes and sizes. Small, single masted vessels with statues of half naked woman and mermaids on the front.
Large, double masted ships with many rows of oars and colourful sails.
Warships, double masted with many banks of oars and large vicious looking bronze rams on the front.

Despite all of those ships, Lucius still found himself fascinated with the sea and he was most disappointed when he found himself staring at a white wooden door instead. He snapped his head to the side and found himself in a quiet inn. There were only a few people around and all of them were better dressed than the shirtless, shoeless sailors out on the wharf.
"Why are we here?" Lucius asked his father, tugging on his cloak.
"I am going to get us onto a ship." He replied, without turning.



Chapter Three-point-One: The Beginnings of A Lengthy Voyage

"Anvil eh? 'Fraid not friend. I don't go to Anvil. My route is north around Skyrim to Morrowind and back. There's still plenty o' money to be had over there, even with the East Empire Company crawling all over the goods. And there's none to be had in Cyrodiil, not these days. Only worth goin' fer the wines o' Skingrad. And with all the trouble the Psjiics been causin even that ain't worth the risk. " The captain was a huge man, with a head full of thick, long, brown, slightly greasy hair, a huge shaggy beard and very hairy arms. Lucius had never seen anyone who fit the saying "Bear of a Man" quite so well. "You could try old Fervala there though," he pointed to a white haired Dunmer woman sitting at a table in the corner of the room. "I've heard her crew sayin' she's goin' to Cyrodiil, Gods know why." He gave a huge grin, more than a few of his brown teeth were missing. The sight sickened Lucius.
"Thank you sir." Father spluttered in between violent coughing.

He had seemed to have caught a cold on their journey here, they had sold their horse at Oxcross Borough and gotten a carriage to Wayrest, courtesies of Sir Gwendyn of the Knights of the Rose. Father was clearly quite ill, yet they did not have the money for the Chapel healer. Not if they wanted to get to Cyrodiil without starving to death. Or eating well and not reaching Cyrodiil at all.
The old captain merely raised his tankard and smiled again, though this time with a concerned look on his face.

"Excuse me, Dark Elf." Father said, coughing again. "Would we perhaps be able to barter passage on your ship? We make for Anvil."

"Anvil? Don't know about that. Not with them Psjiics about." She spat onto the floor and took a swig of her drink. "I'm goin' round the continent and up the Niben, not that your young mind knows about that sort of thing eh boy?" she smiled at Lucius with perfect white teeth, a refreshing change from the Bear's brown grin. "Bravil is my heading, you'd never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy in all the Empire, but there's a good sized dockyard with lots o' traders. I'm going north ways around Skyrim, Morrowind" she spat in his bucket at the mention of his homeland, "Black Marsh" she spat again, "then up the Niben as I say. You won't catch any merchant with all his dogs barking going into the Abeccean, not with them Psjiics causing all that trouble."

Lucius and his father had heard smatterings of news concerning the Psjiics of Sumerset, apparently they have been "causing trouble," trouble in the form of creating storms and teleporting ships to the bottom of the sea. The Imperial Navy had been called in to deal with it but things looked to be turning violent rather quickly and merchant seamen avoided that area now.

"It'll take about five months, weather, Gods and Imperial Navy permitting, to get to Bravil. A long journey, but my ship is one of the fastest ever to grace these seas I tell you. You'd have to suffer up to eight months on any other ship at this dock. I'd charge you eighty Septims each for a hammock and board. Bear in mind that's more than fair. I could put six crates of goods in the space you take up. I'm offering you that 'cause I like you." Fervala grinned, showing off her perfect white teeth again.

Father accepted the offer, paid the captain and the next day, they boarded the ship named 'Necrom Burning,' named for Fervala's least favourite city. The ship set off on a cool Sundas morning, heading south by south west, towards the port of Sentinel, never straying out of sight of land.


This post has been edited by TheBrume: Oct 16 2011, 10:46 AM

I recommend you slow your posting to no faster than three times a week. In fact, I think once or twice a week is better still. This gives busy readers who follow multiple stories plenty of time to stay up with them and savor each. Posting too much (either volume or frequency) invites either skimming or falling behind and giving up – neither of which you want, of course. You are better with a slower, yet predictable posting schedule. In the long run, you are better off to post more slowly and allow the extra time for others to read your story as you read theirs.

Loved the diminutive teen-aged guard! Then the ladies in windows talking about rolling in the hay and the full scale assault on young Lucius’ senses. All in all, a wonderfully rousing description of Wayrest!

And they are now off for Cyrodiil with Captain Fervala, her white teeth and Lucius’ father ominously deteriorating.


Nits. These can be easily reduced in the future by more editing. Yet another reason to slow down. Quality writing takes time - lots of it.

Repetition of the same word in close proximity like we talked about for your last episode. The latter stages of editing is the best time to really look for and cull that out of an episode. Only one distracting example in this episode, but it is notable: In your two short opening paragraphs, you use the word ‘carriage’ four times. With some time and creativity, I’m sure you can reduce that to one or two uses.

’The building here were of a lighter shade of grey.’
You want the plural – ‘buildings’.

’Merchats clad in velvet, samite, cotton and silk manned the stalls in the centre.’
Respell the word to ‘merchants’.

’He snapped his head to the side and found himself in a quiet in.’
I can’t connect this head snapping action to what I presume to be entering a quiet inn (not quiet in)?

"Anvil? Don't know about that. Not with them Psjiics about." She spat onto the floor and took a swig of her drink. "I'm goin' round the continent and up the Niben, not that your young mind knows about that sort of thing eh boy?" he smiled at Lucius with perfect white teeth, a refreshing change from the Bear's brown grin. "Bravil is my heading, you'd never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy in all the Empire, but there's a good sized dockyard with many o' traders. I'm going north ways around Skyrim, Morrowind" he spat in his bucket at the mention of his homeland, "Black Marsh" he spat again, "then up the Niben as I say. You won't catch any merchant with all his dogs barking going into the Abeccean, not with them Psjiics causing all that trouble."
Here you seem to be talking about Fervala, who was mentioned a couple paragraphs above as an old white haired Dunmer woman. In this paragraph, she starts as a she, but then changes into a he for the rest of the paragraph. Two paragraphs later, she happily rediscovers her feminine gender.

I definitely recommend a slower pace. I find that I can write ahead in my story when time and enthusiasm permit, but then I spend more time re-writing and editing than in the initial most creative part. I have a one day cooling-off period after something is “finished,” where I leave whatever I’m going to post next completely alone for a day, then give it a final polish. It helps to have fresh eyes when looking for things like repetitive words, verb tense, and the like. I don’t have much advice about writing, but this is one lesson learned from the tremendously helpful writers here that has served me well.

I really liked the paragraph where Lucius was seeing Wayrest for the first time and comparing it to his home Oxcross Borough. How fun that they arrived on Warrior’s Day. I thought you did a great job showing us things from a nine-year-old perspective, especially the details he noticed about the fantasic animals. I smiled when he ignored some of what was being said in favor of looking around, and then misunderstood what the women were calling down from their windows.

Titus does not sound like he’s getting better. Yikes.

I'll go at a slower pace from here on out. I suppose I'll make tuesdays mu update days.

Chapter Four: A New Tutor

"Curse this ungodly ship…" His father groaned as he regurgitated his breakfast over the wooden rails of the Necrom Burning. They had been in open sea for just over five days and the waters had been relatively calm the sailors said. Relative to what, Lucius did not know.

Father's health appeared to be improving (perhaps thanks to the sea air) in some aspects, his cough was now gone. But the sea seemed to have caused him to deteriorate in other ways. He was often vomiting over the rails, though the sailors said that this was normal for people new to sea travel. Lucius felt fine, however. He hadn't vomited at all on their journey so far.

Lucius was, however, suffering from extreme boredom. He had occupied his first hour or so onboard with exploration. Most of the ship was distinctly uninteresting to him, only the crow's nest intrigued him at all and he wasn't even allowed up there by the captain, for fear he would plummet into the sea and be eaten by the slaughterfish.
The cargo holds were too crowded with crates and barrels of goods to explore very effectively and the parts which he had explored contained nothing of interest.
The passenger's rooms were little more than four hammocks separated from the next four by a thin piece of wood which didn't even go all the way up to the ceiling.
So, Lucius had confined himself to the main deck and to the fore and aftcastles, watching Hammerfell disappear behind them and observing the dolphins which sometimes swam alongside the vessel.

It seemed that Captain Fervala was not lying when she said that the Necrom Burning was fast. It had taken them just over three days to reach Sentinel, the ship often overtook other vessels.
The Necrom Burning remained in Sentinel for a single day, exchanging goods. Rubies and silver went off, swords and hourglasses and more passengers came onboard.

Hourglasses from Sentinel were apparently highly sought after by the Telvanni of Morrowind, according to the captain. They believed that the sands of the Alik'r Desert was superior to all other sand. Lucius thought that it was a silly belief.

One piece of good news was that there were other children of Lucius' age on board. Xuthaleel an Argonian (whose name seemed impossible to pronounce, so he called him 'Zoot' instead) was the one who he liked the most.
He had red scales marked with the occasional spot of green.

There was Hyna, a tiny Bosmer girl who Lucius did not like. She was always whining about something it seemed and she always wanted everything to go her own way. There was also Katie and Karrod, Redguard twins. Katie had taken a liking to Hyna, so those two were always seen together.

Lucius like Karrod. He told some good jokes. He had nice hair too. It was frizzy and wirey and black.

A gust of wind blew into the sails and the ship lurched to port (the sailors said that 'port' is left on the sea), causing Father to spill his gits once more.
"Go away and play Lucius, better you don't have to see my breakfast again."
Lucius was only too happy to comply and he scampered off below deck to the passengers quarters. On the way, he (literally) ran into Zoot. Both boys were knocked to the ground, holding their head in pain.

"You ran into me!" Zoot shouted, he had a knack for stating the obvious.
Lucius dragged himself to his feet, Zoot followed suite seconds later.

"I have heard there is a mage on board." Zoot said, suddenly excited, "I think we should find him, maybe he will teach us some magic." He grinned.

Argonian grins were strange things, their mouths do not turn upwards as noticably as with other races, instead they simply bare their teeth. It looks threatening and the only way to distinguish an Argonian grin from an Argonian scowl is by looking at their eyes. The eyes themselves are also strange. The pupils are narrow and vertical, instead of having white around the pupil and iris (Argonians don't have irises), the Argonians have green or amber or red colours around it.

"Good idea," Immediately, Lucius was bounding down towards the passenger's quarters, Zoot trailing behind. Another strange thing about Argonians, Lucius had noticed, was the way they walked. Or rather the way some walked. Some of them, like Zoot, walked normally, just as any man or mer. Others, like Zoot's mother, Xeeta, walked differently. Her legs were backwards it seemed. And she waddled a little. Apparently, Zoot's father was a different… sub-race of Argonian to his mother. The sub-race mostly found near the coasts of Black Marsh and at the western border with Cyrodiil. Zoot's mother was a sub-race found closer to the Morrowind border and in the north. She had told Lucius that there were other sub-races, but that they were less common and mostly remained within Argonia.

It did not take them long to stumble across the mage Zoot spoke about, he was a tall Altmer, with shiny, combed back hair of an off-grey colour. He wore bright blue robes, very expensive. When they found him, he was seated at a table, peering over a book with a strange, green light around him. It took the boys several minutes of bickering before they decided who was to attract the Altmer's attention.

"Pssst…psssst… Altmer." Lucius whispered, cupping his hands around his mouth to make the sound travel further, he didn't know why he did this, but it seemed appropriate to him. The Altmer remained seated, still reading.
"Pssst…Altmer" It continued like this for several minutes, it almost seemed like the elf was turning a darker shade of pink each time they whispered.
"Psst… Alt-"
"What!??!" The elf rose and spun suddenly, his face was red, his book flew through the air and landed with a thud on the floor. A few of the hairs on his head were sticking up.

The boys remained silent for a few moments, watching the elf's face return, slowly, to it's natural olive colour.
"Can you teach us magic?" They both asked at once.
"No." Was the answer, he sat back down and returned to his reading.
"Why not?" They ran up to stand at his side. He ignored them.
"What are you reading?" Zoot asked.
"'The Imperial Guild of Mages' Treatise On Mysticism In The Third Era. And The Possible Exclusion of Said School From The Accepted Schools of Magicka'" He replied in a monotone.
"Sounds boring, wouldn't it be more fun to teach us magic?" Lucius asked, hopeful.
"No." Was the reply.

For three days, the boys did not relent. Twice a day they would come to him and ask to be taught magic.
"Teach me how to be invisible." Zoot asked one day, "No. I am reading 'Carandil's Report on the Assault Upon Necromancer's Cave. Third Era, Three Hundred and Ninety Six.'" Was the reply.
"Teach me to walk on water spell." Lucius asked the next day. "No. 'Merandil's Theorem on the Origins of Direnni Tower' is much more interesting." Was his reply.
"Teach me to make a water walking potion." Zoot asked the next time. "No. I am reading 'Marcus Deric's Thoughts on the Future of Destruction Magic.'" Each time the boys grew more disheartened.

On their final attempt, Lucius asked, "Teach me to read." The Altmer began his reply, monotonous as always, "No. I am reading the Imperial Alchemy Symposium's Theory on…" He perked up as he caught on to what Lucius had said. "You… cannot read?" He looked up, Lucius shook his head. He looked at Zoot, who shook his head also and then to Karrod, who had only recently joined Lucius and Zoot in their quest for magic, despite the wishes of his uncle, whom he was travelling with.

"Well, this must be rectified at once." The boys burst into grins, Zoot's tail picked up.
"And magic?" They asked.
The Altmer looked suspicious, "Perhaps. We shall see how you handle literacy first.
"Firstly, we shall teach you your letters. Now, it just so happens that I know a nice little song to help you remember. I will sing it, then you shall sing it. Ready?"

The boys were taught to read in remarkable speed, just a few days. The Altmer, who was named Argentil, thought this was due to his own skill as a tutor. The boys knew differently…

This delightful episode is simply packed with tiny memorable details. The attention you lavished on the children and grownups on the ship was most welcome. I also enjoyed the relationships among the children and the way you characterized them. I have a soft spot for tiny Bosmer as I expect you’re aware, so little Hyna was a delight to read about – another high maintenance little she-elf in the making. A nice touch that Karrod’s Redguard father discouraged his son from pursuing magic.

And Lucius learns to read! Perhaps some magic is next after all.

I’m pleased that Lucius’ father, in some ways, seems to be a little better. There still seems something ominous about his health.