One shot stories Options

[Kell-Reevor]

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

*************

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

[blockhead]

This one is a Guild Wars fanfic, not an Elder Scrolls fanfic. Hope this is OK.


Tegan and Fjorngrin first met when they were children. Almost instantly, they became the best of friends. As they grew and developed, so did their relationship. They were married as soon as they were able and settled down in the countryside near Ascalon, where they made a living as farmers. Many thought they looked silly: a short bald man with a tall woman. The two of them were happy together and that was what mattered.

The war with the Charr was getting worse so Fjorngrin took up his warhammer, joined the army, and went away.

Tegan stayed behind and awaited the return of her beloved. The thought of her also becoming a warrior had never occurred to either of them, though many woman did so.

Both of peasant upbringing, neither could read, so they did not send letters to each other. The lack of a proper postal system would have been a hindrance, had they been literate. Tegan could only stoicly wait and hope that her husband was doing well and that he was killing as many Charr as he could.

Sometimes, working in the fields or buying provisions in the marketplace, she would pause and look to the horizon, wistfully remembering her man. She pictured him as he left, all decked out in his blue armor. The army was not very strict about uniforms: recruits were permitted dye their armor as they chose. Blue had always been Fjorngrin's favorite color.

Then the fateful day occurred. Tegan's world was forever destroyed. It was the Searing, a bizarre magical attack launched by the Charr, in which giant crystals and magical flame burned the land, the trees, the plants. They smashed almost every building and killed most of the population.

The land, once green and fertile, was now a blasted wasteland of brown. Nothing grew there but a few scraggly plants. The countryside crawled with hostile and dangerous monsters that had been changed and mutated by the Searing.

The house of Fjorngrin and Tegan had been obliterated: smashed squarely by one of the huge crystals. Tegan was only among the living because she had been out at the time.

She was now alone and homeless ... like most surviving Ascalonians.

After a year or two, in which she never saw Fjorngrin nor heard of him, she realized that she was at a loss for what to do with her life. It seemed that he was gone. She paid for passage with a caravan (for protection) and went to the nearby town, where she had family. Maybe some of them were still alive. Much to Tegan's surprise and relief, her uncle Bob still lived there and was unhurt, though he had not aged well.

"Tegan," he said, "you should go away from this region. There is nothing here but death and destruction. You should live a full life where the land is still green. Find yourself another man and settle down."

"Fjorngrin is the only man for me. There shall be no other."

"He's been gone for two years. He's never coming back. Face facts, he is dead."

Tegan shook her head and said: "No body was found. There was never a messenger from the Army. He could still be alive, just very far away. And if he is dead, there will be no other for me."

"Maybe he left you."

"Never," she said fiercely, "he would no more leave me than I would leave him."

Her uncle nodded. Though he did not want her to spend her whole life waiting for a man who was no longer alive, he could appreciate her loyalty and determination.

"And," she continued, "I won't leave this land, like a rat from a sinking ship."

"A rat," he countered, "cannot save the ship. Self-sacrifice in such a situation is pointless. Tegan, my favorite niece, you should go. Go away from here. This place is doomed. The Charr have won, though no one will admit this, save perhaps the Prince. I must stay because of ... commitments, and I am too old for such a trip. You have no reason to stay.

"The timing of your arrival is fortuitous: an old friend of mine, a Dwarf, is currently here in town. He can get you out. You will pose as a slave that he is bringing to one of the Dwarven markets. A few other people will be traveling with you, also posing as slaves. In this way, you can get through the Shiverpeak mountains alive."

"What if he actually sells me as a slave?"

"I trust him with my life. More importantly, I trust him with yours. He will not do this."

"OK, uncle. That is enough for me."

"Go to Cantha. Go to the academy on Shing Jea. Master Togo is an old friend of mine. I'll give you a letter to present to him ... I will call on an old favor from him. He will then enroll you. Learn a new trade. Start a new life. You can be an elementalist or a monk. Please do this, Tegan."

Tegan nodded. Her uncle's words were sensible.

"Thank you."

He quickly scribbled a note and gave it to her. "No need for me to seal it, just keep it safe and present it to Master Togo."

She looked at the paper. She marveled that these little scratches and markings could convey a message. Literacy in that world was not as common as is in other places, in other times.

"I'll never see you again, will I, Uncle?"

"Most likely not, Tegan. The trip to Cantha will take a long time and you'll be there for years. Do not dwell upon it. I've had a long life, and have done many things. Your life is just begun. You must go and live it."

The trip was long and interesting, and her uncle's plan actually went off without a hitch. From Lion's Arch she took a ship to far off Shing Jea Island.

The note did not get her into the monastery, but some gold did. After asking around, she was presented to Master Togo. If he was as old as her uncle, then he had aged better. His goatee was grey, but he appeared fit. He looked like he could hold his own on the battlefield.

Tegan bowed and presented the letter. He unrolled it and silently read. She waited. His eyebrow rose and then he sighed.

She waited. He read some more.

"So my old friend, at last, calls in that favor. Oh, it was so long ago. Suddenly every year of my life is stretched out before me."

Togo said nothing for a time.

Tegan waited silently.

"I am sorry, child, I was woolgathering. Your note has brought back a flood of memories. Some good, some ... best forgotten.

"You are now a student here. All tuitions and dorm charges are waived. You will need to pay for your supplies and that is all. There is money to be made during the lessons: many creatures and outlaws carry gold and sellable items. You will not want for funds.

"Just from looking at you I would say you would make an excellent warrior, though I expect you would rather be a monk or the like."

He began to explain each profession. Privately, to herself, she ruled out the magical occupations, since they would necessitate knowing how to read.

She thought ... for the very first time ... "If I had been a warrior, I could have been at my husband's side. Maybe I could have saved him."

The look in her eyes made Togo stop in mid sentence. He had been in the middle of explaining why necromancers were not such a bad thing,

"You chose, didn't you? Just now."

"I will be a warrior."

"You have the height for it. Know that it is a hard life."

"I come from a hard life."

"Fair enough."

And so her training began. It rapidly became apparent that Tegan had a talent for combat. Some experimentation revealed that her aptitude was with swords rather than warhammers. If Togo had had any misgivings about accepting her as a student, they were quickly abolished.

She pictured how she would have looked, in her new recruit's armor, swinging her longsword alongside of Fjorngrin with his warhammer.

The tears still came from time to time but she hid them from the other students. She missed her husband so much.

Though the same age as the other students, something distanced her from them. Events had made her older than her years. She conducted her class time and her free time solemnly and with a quiet, focused, determination. For the others, the training was fun, a game. For her, it was a serious matter.

As Master Togo had predicted, making money was not a problem. It was not necessary to find a job: fighting outlaws and monsters was good income. She made more gold than she spent.

It eventually became time for her to chose a secondary profession.

"I am only a warrior. I care nothing about anything else."

"No Tegan, you must chose," said Headmaster Zhan. "It is how we do things. It will be better for you: many professions actually enhance your warrior skills. There are good combinations."

"I want to slay monsters, like those that killed my husband. I care not about ... spells."

"Tegan, spells are important and powerful."

The warrior headmaster beckoned her closer. She did so. He lowered his voice and hissed, "Tegan. I have watched your progress. You will be an excellent warrior, but you cannot graduate without adopting a secondary profession. Please, you must chose something, or they'll throw you out!"

"Oh."

"Take another day to think about it. Warrior monk might be good, or perhaps warrior ritualist so that you can summon assistance."

"I, I do not know how to read." she said. Each word had hurt to say. She had never admitted this to anyone else at the academy.

"Not all magic requires you to read," he said, his voice reassuring.

"Oh."

"Go. Think. Speak to the other headmasters. Decide."

The next day she returned to Headmaster Zhan.

"My husband died on the battle field. If I was there maybe I would have saved him. If I knew monk spells, I could have healed him. I will be a warrior monk."

"Are you sure? You cannot bring him back. Chose for yourself, not for him. What do you really want?"

"I have chosen."

"Very well then. I hope you do not regret this. The woman you need to speak to is Headmaster Amara."

Tegan learned some the skills of a monk. As expected she learned healing magic. What she had not expected were the smiting spells. It was a pleasant surprise to learn that a monk was more than just a healer. She approved of smiting spells though she did not have manna enough to use them often in combat.

In the meantime, a strange sort of plague had broken out on the island. It twisted men into malformed masses that wandered the countryside, slaying all they encountered. They were formidable, dangerous and quite effective at killing. Since she was a rapidly advancing student, Tegan had been asked to help fight the creatures and also to help in the search for the source of the problem.

After fighting some of the plague creatures, she realized that it was time to spend some of her accumulated gold on new armor. Her recruit's armor, obtained the first day or so of her studies, no longer provided sufficient protection.

A crafter in Seitung Harbor was able to make a fine set of Canthan armor. It was far superior to her old armor.

Fellow students had mentioned a storage service called Xunlai Storage. Apparently she could buy a space to keep her things. All of the items were accessible at any Xunlai chest, anywhere in the world. It was as if she had actually lugged all of it with her.

"No," said the Xunlai agent, not unkindly, to Tegan, "Living things cannot travel this way. It has been tried. They die."

Tegan asked a few more questions and finally paid the fifty gold.

The agent led her to one of the chests, while explaining how to use the system.

"This one is free so we'll use it," she said, "Now I wave my hand thusly, spelling it so that it opens only for you. The magic will sense your Kirlian Aura: only you will ever be able to access your belongings. This first time, the chest will be empty, ready for you to fill it."

She waved her hand and some sparkles flew around the chest.

Tegan reached out and lifted the heavy stone lid.

The chest was not empty.

She saw vials of dye, some warhammers, assorted clothing, and a pile of gold coins.

"Oh, you are married!" said the Xunlai agent. "Why didn't you say so? There is no charge to access an existing account."

Also in the chest was a full set of Ascalon recruit's armor. She picked up the cuirass. It was Fjorngrin's size. It was blue: his favorite color. It was the one he had worn the last time she had seen him.

"My ... my husband is dead," said Tegan as she sadly placed the cuirass back in the chest.

"Oh. I am sorry. Look, he must have opened the account ... umm ... before ... and the magic knew of your bond with him."

"Do you ... can you tell where he was when he last used a Xunlai chest?"

"I am sorry, but no. The magic, set up centuries ago, prevents a client's account from ever being traced. It uses powerful magic that ... even we do not understand."

"Oh, OK. Thank you."

"No trouble at all. Here is your fee back."

Tegan silently accepted the money. She placed her old recruit's armor in the chest, next to Fjorngrin's. She picked up the blue cuirass again and sniffed ... it still smelled faintly of him.

After placing some of her gold in the chest, she closed it and thanked the agent.

"You are welcome. Xunlai storage: wherever you go, there we are."

Tegan was quiet for the rest of the day.

It eventually became necessary to go with Master Togo to the mainland to ascertain the source of the plague. The metropolis was a new experience to Tegan, accustomed as she was to the country. She'd never seen a city larger than Ascalon. The city of Kaineng extended forever, or so it seemed. Even its height was amazing: it was as if man had made mountains out of stacked buildings. It was noisy and smelly, but kind of exciting. The city was filled with many dangers, worse than anything she had encountered on Shing Jea Island or Ascalon.

Tegan suspected that Togo already had an idea as to what was behind the plague, which had already spread to the mainland, but was not saying anything yet.

In a rare idle moment, she stopped at the Xunlai chests in Kaineng Center to drop off more gold. The agent spelled the chest, as had the one back at the island, and then Tegan lifted the lid.

Her old armor was still there but one of the pieces had been moved. The clothing had been rearranged, as if she had gone in there for a change of clothing ... but she had not.

A single rose had been placed on her cuirass.

It had not been there before.

She picked up the flower. It was beginning to wilt, indicating that it had been there for two days, possibly three.

Someone else had recently accessed the chest.

Only one person could have placed it there.

"Fjorngrin ... you're alive."

He must have accessed the chest and had noticed the things she had added. After a talk with the Xunlai agent, he had figured out that it could only have been his wife. He must have then placed the rose in the chest as a way to communicate with her, to tell her that he was alive and that he loved her still.

The tall warrior-woman's tears flowed freely. She did not care that passers-by looked at her strangely

"I don't know how I will do it, but I will find you. I will find you even if I have to search all of Cantha, Tyria and beyond. I will find you, Fjorngrin ... and I will be with you again."