One shot stories Options

[Kell-Reevor]

Just a short piece I put together out of boredom. Hope you like it.

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It is dark. Two figures traverse a well trodden path out of Suran. The first is a swordsman. The second... his would-be killer.

The swordsman knows of his follower's presence. He listens attentively as the assassin follows. He is clearly untrained, and this may be his first mark. There is no rattle of quarrels or arrows. It is likely the swordsman need not fear a ranged attack.

The swordsman has made an enemy in the Nobles of Suran, and was aware that eventually they would seek his life. But he is not afraid. As a swordsman, death has followed him as a companion he has developed a deep respect for.

His trained ears pick up a sound... a soft and smooth "whif" as a dagger is pulled from a belt.

Spotting a shrine by the road, he approaches. He has no love of the Dunmer, nor has he a love for their Temple, but he is a spiritual man and pays his repects nonetheless as his killer moves in.

He moves his thumb for the guard of his sword. Years of oiling grant it silence as he nudges it from his sheath.

In a flash, he grips the weapon. Rips it from its home. Then thrusts it back, cutting into the assassin's belly. Turning, he frees the weapon with a horizontal slice, then brings the weapon up for a finishing downward cut.

The ordeal is over in a mere span of two seconds. The swordsman flips his sword to remove any blood, then returns it to it's home. He kneels in respect to the life he had just ended. If the nobleman had hired a killer even a tad more competant, the outcome would have been drastically different. If his foe had been equipped with a bow, or maybe armor, or perhaps knowledge of magick, HE would have been the one to die tonight.

He closes the dead man's eyes, mutters a short prayer... then is on his way.

This post has been edited by Kell-Reevor: Mar 2 2006, 02:01 PM

[Agent Griff]

Hm, Nice story Jack. For some reason, I didn't imagine the Core as a child, but more as a big mech with a genetically altered human inside, Omega Boost style. For those who don't know, Omega Boost is an old PlayStation 1 game where the player controlled a cool mech in humanity's battle with the forces of ENIAC, the first computer ever made. Or so I remember. Anyway, I liked the debates inside the mind of the Core. It really had the mind of a child. But since you posted a story, I'll have to do one better, and post one of my own.

~~~

The stone halls of the castle were cold and dark, only lit up by the occasional torch. In the distance a door could be sighted, half open. Beyond it, a flicker of light could barely be noticed by those with keen sight. Even though the castle appeared deserted, Reginald knew well that it was filled to the brim with people of varying positions in society. Emissaries from other lands, men at arms or just plain servants tending to the grounds, the castle was anything but empty. As he passed another torch hung on the wall Reginald was getting closer and closer to the door at the end of the corridor. His lord, Regnier of Evermor, had summoned him, noting that the matter was of utmost importance and urgency. Dressed with expensive clothes, Reginald had come to his lord's summons. Reginald wore a fine shirt made of silk from Hammerfell along with light linen pants from the best tailor in the city. At his side he had his blade, a fine longsword of steel mined from the foot-hills of the Wrothgarian Mountains themselves. That sword had been passed down in his family from generation to generation and it stood as the greatest heirloom Reginald owned. Despite its considerable age, the blade was still battle-worthy, not just a symbol of power.

Opening the wooden door in front of him, Reginald saw himself in the chambers of his lord and senior, Lord Regnier Ramorran of the city of Evermoor. The Ramorran family was quite well-known both in Evermor and in High Rock as a whole, the family being spread out among several cities. The most prominent city in which the Ramorrans were present however was Evermor. The outlying territories near Evermor though were quickly falling under the influence of the kingdom of Wayrest and King Eadwyre of Wayrest. More and more settlements under the protection of the Ramorrans were falling prey to raids by bands of 'rogue' Orcs. At first glance these attacks had nothing to do with Wayrest, yet one never knew what the cunning King Eadwyre might be planning.

Reginald himself was quite well versed in the politics of the area. Since before his own birth however, his family had been staunch supporters of the Ramorran family, some of Reginald's ancestors, his great-grandfather most notably, being known as the 'Guard Dogs' of the Ramorran family. That great-grandfather of Reginald's fought in over twelve duels in the name of his senior, winning all of them and killing eight of his opponents. Reginald himself had yet to fight a single duel in the name of Lord Regnier, but the shadow of his family was always reminding Reginald that he had a reputation to uphold. Before he could think about his family and their deeds, Reginald was greeted by Lord Regnier.

"Good evening Lord Reginald. What brings you to my estate at this late hour?" Lord Regnier asked, pretending not to remember that he had summoned Reginald himself. Lord Regnier however was always very formal in everything he did, and his greeting was a subtle way to remind Reginald that he always had to state his duties when in front of his senior.

"I have been summoned by his Lordship Regnier Ramorran of Evermor, on account of most urgent matters to deal with." Reginald said in an impersonal way. He then returned to his regular way of talking. He wasn't one to hold up to formal etiquette much. "Why have you summoned me my Lord?"

"The recent battle with the Nords has sparked off another conflict it seems, yet on a much smaller scale Lord Reginald. While we were away and battling the Nordic marauders, a noble from a nearby town came to Evermor and publicly challenged my position as Lord of Evermor, citing an old contract which conferred the title to one of his uncles. Since Breton law can give even a wild beast the title and right to own lands, I must reply to this challenge. Through his claims he also challenges the authority of his Majesty, King Dwaine ruler of Evermor." Lord Regnier said, keeping to his formal speech. Regnier himself wasn't the ruler of Evermor, yet he was the most powerful noble in the court of King Dwaine, and most saw him as a direct representative of the King. True to his fame, Lord Regnier was also the chief advisor of King Dwaine.

"In other words, we cannot challenge the legal rights he holds over the land and the city?" Reginald asked in a rather bored manner. The various contradictions of Breton law did not interest him greatly, yet the opportunity to finally fight a duel in the name of his Lord was arising.

"To be specific, the rights he holds account only for the land, not for the city itself because they were given a very long time ago, when the lands where Evermor now stands were mere fields and wilderness. We could reach a legal compromise wherein our rival shall own the land while I and my family manage the actual city, yet it would be a grueling process for both sides, my dearest Reginald and King Dwaine is highly unappreciative of such legal processes." Lord Regnier said, finishing his sentence with the tone he used when wanting to convince Reginald to do something.

"So that leaves only one other solution then, my lord." Reginald said briefly.

"Indeed." Regnier replied in a very brief way, which was uncharacteristic of him.

"A duel." Reginald stated, holding the hilt of his sword tight.

"You stood at my side at the battle against the Nords, yet since your duties were to protect me you were not able to actually do battle in my name and prove yourself as your father and your grandfather did in my service, nor were you able to give your life honourably as your cousin, Sir Roderick, did. Now however comes a time when blades will be drawn and blood will flow, a time when the most holy function of Breton culture will come into its own, the time of the duel. The Nords may have been fierce opponents, yet this is the greatest way through which a noble of High Rock gains both fame and fortune." Lord Regnier said, returning to his normal style of speech.

"Have you...I mean, has your Lordship already established the terms of the duel with your contester?" Reginald asked, changing his style of speech after a slight glare from Lord Regnier.

"I have. It will not be a usual duel. By the wish of my contester, a certain Count Arcyte of Lanark, the duel will be held in a way similar to a tournament. I do not have the exact details of the tournament, yet we will receive them on arrival." Lord Regnier said.

"On arrival? Where shall we be traveling my Lord?" Reginald asked, stuttering for a bit.

"The tournament grounds can be found at the estate of Count Arcyte, in Lanark. It is near Evermor, half a day's traveling as the crow flies. I suggest you take your own weapons and armour since I do not deem this Count Arcyte to be a trustworthy fellow." Lord Regnier said with a slightly suspicious tone of voice.

"What do you believe his motives to be?" Reginald asked, in a seemingly informal way. Lord Regnier however seemed to forgive his vassal's lapse of etiquette.

"Well, he certainly is not a land-owner which has been deprived of the right to rule lands that should have belonged to him in the first place. Evermor was not founded yesterday or the day before that. The kings of Evermor have ruled the city since before the birth of my own family. I find it hard to believe that this Count of little-known origins could be part of a house older than my own. We will put his claims to the test however. In your skill at arms will he see the glory of both House Ramorran and King Dwayne when you will fight in his tournament. When you finally win the tournament he will undoubtedly put down his claims and leave both us and the city of Evermor in peace." Lord Regnier said in a somewhat confident way. Reginald smiled slightly seeing his senior speaking in such a way.

"When shall we leave my Lord?" Reginald asked rather eagerly.

"We will leave tomorrow at first light. You will fight in the name of both myself and my liege, his Majesty King Dwaine so do your best to honour both our names. Least of all, do not forget you are fighting for the city of Evermor and its people. I am quite sure that the Royal court of Wayrest will be watching this battle keenly, just as I am sure that this Count Arcyte also has their support in this venture. They will see however that Evermor is not as weakened as they believe. They will see that Evermor's champion can match up to any of their own. Now go and rest, Lord Reginald, for you will need your strength tomorrow. Good night." Lord Regnier said, bolstering the confidence of his vassal. Despite Reginald's youth, a mere 23 years old, he was held by many to be capable of surpassing his late cousin Roderick in skill at arms.

"Good night, milord." Reginald said with a slight bow.

With that, Reginald left the estate of his liege-lord. Mounting upon his horse, a stallion as black as the very night, Reginald rode to the estate of his own family, House Collonock. The estate was humble when compared to the estates of other nobles in the area, yet House Collonock was always well known for its austere standards. Reginald's father especially had been a keen rival of debauchery and hedonism, almost always wearing simple clothes as most of the commoners did. He was as fierce as a lion in battle however, and that brought him the respect of his peers. A small stone keep surrounded by a few cottages and huts was all that made up Reginald's estate. Unlike his father, which was somewhat negligent when it came to his own estate, Reginald had made his lands prosper, encouraging farming and trading among his subjects. As soon as he was within sight of his keep, a horn sounded to greet the Lord Collonock.

After the death of his cousin Roderick in battle against the Nords, Reginald had inherited the title of Lord Collonock, being next in line after his cousin. Despite being present in the battle, Reginald never got a chance to fight because he was tasked with protecting Lord Regnier. That frustrated him greatly, yet he only showed that frustration in private. A doubt had also grown inside Reginald, a doubt and a very great regret that he wasn't at the side of his cousin when he was slain by the Nord champion Aenar Wolf-Bane. Even though Lord Regnier told him not to blame himself for Roderick's death, Reginald nonetheless brooded on the fact that he could have saved his cousin from dying, where he not burdened with the duty of protecting Regnier.

As soon as he reached his bed-chambers, Reginald undressed then slipped into one of his sleeping robes, leaving his sword at its side, scabbard and all. The sword had its own place in Reginald's chambers, on a stone pedestal close to Reginald's bed. Exactly above the pedestal was a window in the roof, so that the golden rays of the sun could shine down on the blade on sunny days, making it hard to look upon the sword for long. Reginald liked to sometimes just sit and stare at the blade, thinking of whatever troubled him the most. What now troubled him was the tournament that lied ahead. Who knew what trials would await him at Lanark? For now, Reginald slept and tried not to think too much about it.

He woke up early the next morning. Sweat was pouring down his back while one of his shoulders was sore. Another restless night, it seemed. With a lazy motion, Reginald got up from his bed and sat for a while on the edge of the bed, trying to properly wake up. With a sudden motion he rose from his bed and went for a jug of water he held in his chambers. He formed a cup with his hands then took some water and violently scrubbed his face with it. After washing his face, Reginald got dressed. He had a meeting with Regnier and there wasn't much time to spare. He strapped his scabbard to his belt then sheathed his blade. His men at arms were already waiting for him outside. There were three of them, all wearing mail hauberks with surcoats bearing the coat of arms of House Collonock over the mail. A cart with two horses attached was next to them and inside was a chest which contained Reginald's tournament armour. It was plate armour of a heavier kind, designed to make the wearer nigh invulnerable. It wasn't practical on the battlefield, yet it was useful for tournaments where the objective was usually to disable your foe, not to kill him outright, though accidents did happen.

After greeting his men and receiving brief bows from them all, Reginald mounted his horse then left the estate, followed by his three retainers which drove the horse-drawn cart. After a short journey to the edge of Evermor, Reginald finally caught sight of Lord Regnier and his entourage. Along with eleven other men, all mounted, Regnier stood at the edge of a clearing near Evermor, mounted on a horse of his own. At his side he had his own blade, a long hand-and-a-half sword made of fine steel and with a ruby-encrusted pommel.

"Greetings my Lord! I have come with three men of my own, my most trusted retainers. They are all brave men and they will guard my armour. I have also brought my own weapons, just as you have instructed. An ash-wood spear, a winged mace and my very own sword stand ready to serve Evermor, in the hands of the Lord of House Collonock." Reginald said in a formal manner.

"Greetings Lord Reginald! I see you have come with men of your own and I am glad to see it. Slowly but surely you are coming into your own as a noble of House Collonock. Surely, you will make your ancestors proud. Let us now set forth and meet this Count Arcyte. To Lanark!" Lord Regnier said, making a sign to all his men.

Afterwards Lord Regnier together with all his men broke off in a gallop. Quickly following them from behind came Reginald, being himself followed by his men in the horse-drawn cart. Because of the cart, Reginald was forced to slow down so he couldn't keep up with his liege.

Just as his liege lord had predicted, the whole convoy reached Lanark by dusk. As the sun was setting the whole countryside near Lanark gained a dark orange colour bordering on blood red. The landscape surrounding Lanark was quite pictoresque, a cluster of rolling hills and flowery fields with dark forests of rowan and ash trees in between. Had the reason for his visit not been the tournament, Reginald would have lingered in this land, if only to admire its beauty and peacefulness.

Lanark itself was a large castle made up of a keep with four large towers surrounded by an imposing wall. This looked more like a fortress than an estate. The walls were well-manned with both men at arms and archers. The garrison could probably outlast an army ten times its own size. Thankfully, Reginald had not come to lay siege.

As soon as they all reached the gate, the gate-keepers hailed them and opened the gates to the visitors. Inside the court-yard Reginald could see a wide array of knights had come from other lands. With a quick glance he could number about fifteen knights, ranging from Bretons to Nords, with a few Redguards between them.

They all seemed to be waiting for something. Since they didn't want to be out of line, Reginald together with Lord Regnier started doing the same thing. Soon enough, a man appeared at a balcony. He was wearing an impressive tunic embroidered with the coat of arms of Lanark. At his waist, Reginald could clearly notice a scabbard yet any more details of the blade inside couldn't be seen from such a distance. From the looks of him, he appeared to be Count Arcyte himself. After a few moments of silence, the man smiled then began talking.

"Greetings my friends come from lands both near and far! My name is Count Arcyte of Lanark. I am very grateful you have all made the journey to my humble estate and I also hope no troubles have befallen you in your journeys to reach Lanark. I can see here the elite of Skyrim, Hammerfell and High Rock, all gathered at my home. I am humbled to see such a great panoply in my own court-yard. But surely, you must all be wondering why there are so many gathered here, when this was supposed to be just a duel? This contest shall be a tournament, my friends! Gathered here are sixteen of the best knights in all of Tamriel, all come to fight in my tournament. The prize, as you all know, are the lands of Evermor, to the East of Lanark. The battles shall be held both on foot and mounted. Thus, there will be a total of fifteen battles in the next days, my friends! A knight must first pass through the round of eight, by defeating an opponent both on foot and in a joust. If there is a draw, a final battle will be held on foot to decide who goes into the next stage. The quarter finals follow, afterwards the semi-finals and then the grand final held between the two best warriors in the whole tournament. The tournament begins tomorrow, knights. Prepare!" Count Arcyte said.

After the speech held by the Count, every knight was led to their own individual quarters. Reginald discovered that this Arcyte fellow was quite wealthy, seeing as the room in which he was assigned to was furnished in a way which spared no expense. If all of the pieces of furniture in the room were to be sold, Reginald could probably buy a mail hauberk along with a helmet and greaves, all finely made. That or a small house. Besides the great bed which stood next to a wall, there was also a couch made of oak and with feather-filled pillows and a table of cherry wood along with three chairs, all intricately carved with the coat of arms of Lanark. The room was truly a sight to behold. There was also a large window by the bed yet it was covered with velvet drapes of a blood red colour. While Reginald laid down in the bed, relaxing, he heard a knock on the door. Jumping to his feet he answered. It was lord Regnier.

"I hope you have found your lodgings to be appropriate. May I enter?" Regnier asked in his usual manner.

"Of course milord." Reginald answered shortly, making way for his liege.

"I expect you to be prepared for the trials that lay ahead. I know that you are a warrior of exceptional skill on foot, but this jousting part worries me. The fact that so many foreign knights are also here also worries me greatly. I have seen among them the faces of many men I know to be skilled at arms, seasoned warriors who have been through many battles." Lord Regnier said, almost whispering.

"I am no lesser milord, as I have been in a battle as well, with the most terrible of foes Tamriel has to offer. What could be more terrifying in a battle than a Nord gone berserk?" Reginald asked. He then stopped and lowered his head and silence stepped in for a few fleeting moments. "If only I could have fought in the battle, perhaps things would not be as they are.

"Do not dwell on such things Reginald for, in the end, it is not for us to decide who dies and who does not. We all have our established fate, and we must meet it whatever the cost. The Gods shall not be fooled. If Roderick's fate was to die on that field so that the battle would go in our favour, then he did finely. I promise you however, his name shall be reedemed in this tournament." Lord Regnier said with a tone which he didn't use often. He then raised his head and started slightly looking down on Reginald. "I have seen many great champions from far away lands gathered in the court-yard of Count Arcyte. Some were bearing the coat of arms of Wayrest. It is truly serious if Wayrest is openly involved in this conflict which should only interest King Dwaine and Count Arcyte. I also expect foul play on the part of the organizers. Now, listen closely, I've had a talk with one of the Counts underlings and he told me that the matches will be picked randomly, with the champions each extracting a rock with a pouch. In that pouch there should be eight pairs of little rocks, each pair with its own specific inscription. If we are lucky, you will not face a skilled opponent from the first day. In the end, Lord Reginald, skill at arms will determine the winner, whatever ploys Count Arcyte and the Court of Wayrest may have in their employ. I wish you luck."

"Thank you for your encouragement Lord Regnier, and good night." Reginald said as he bowed slightly in front of Regnier. Whenever Reginald did this, he did it out of respect since Lord Regnier had become a father figure to Reginald, ever since his own father died.

With that, Reginald laid down in his bed and went to sleep, knowing well what hardship would await him in the days to come.

To be continued
~~~

I've done it again! A second one-shot! Please don't shoot me. I hope you enjoy it anyway.