You know, I've just been reading back a lot to for the description of the Battlespire's entrance. It made me notice that I missed something in my description of the world proper. Namely, the rivers of magma. That's kinda funny, but this is the first time a character went outside Battlespire on-screen so Harms might have been lying for the sake of sticking to a description his pupils could imagine. That and frankly, the new description of a barely kept together shattered planet is a heck of a lot cooler than the cliche hell I had at first.
Cyrodiil
Jagar Tharn watched the still waters of the Shiftgate. Behind him, was the royal bath. Over the past few years, he had cultivated the image of a frail health, the image of a man who took regular baths to help fight his arthritis, one who preferred to take those baths in solitude. It was rather ironic, for the man he portrayed had reached the peak of his strength. Still, he mused as he observed the portal, this image was a priceless advantage in the game he was playing. Whenever the need arose, he would always have an excuse that would separate him from his otherwise everpresent guards. And everpresent spies. “No doubt there is a spy who hopes to glean some critical information from me even now.” He thought. “But that spy is only a Breton. He can’t look past the illusion I play before his eyes. He doesn’t even realize there is an illusion, or any other form of magicka, at play here.”
He smirked and reached for a bottle of perfume. While he was here, he might as well add some truth to the deception. “Besides, no one said there was a limit on how often an Emperor is allowed to bathe.” His eyes turned from the bath back to the Shiftgate. It had been over half an hour now. “Hurry up, Aureus. You are an old friend, wed to my only sister even. Yet I can’t make an exception, no matter how much I want to. One hour, it is all the time I can give you.”
Gate to Battlespire.
With a silent howl, a wall of purple flames, pierced with a hail of ice and a storm of lightning, erupted in front of him. Aureus swore as he found his path blocked by the obstacle. “Well, no one said it would be that easy. First they hide this place in the farthest corner of time, space and the countless planes of existence. And even that is not enough. They have to place a defensive mechanism that can hold back every single army ever to exist, combined. No wonder Dagon needs the help of a Royal Battlemage to break in here. He could never do it on his own.” He noted. He dug his hands in his robe and retrieved a clasp. A golden dragon, with eyes made of rubies, one hand holding a sword and the other a staff. A silver gout of flame shot from its open maw and its wings were spread wide, as if it could take flight at any moment.
Knowing that it came from Tharn, Aureus considered it to be oddly out of place. The Tharn he knew was a man with little use for jewelry and other signs of ‘high-standing’. It wasn’t till he’d taken the place of the Emperor that he’d come to openly flaunt expensive clothes and heavy jewelry. Yet, this was not part of an Emperor’s attire. “The symbol of a Royal Battlemage. Most people see in it an icon of his office but in reality, it is a key. A key to the place where we are born. Hold it out in front of you and speak my name. None of the Battlespire’s defences shall oppose you then.”
The Imperial held the clasp out in front of him as he’d been instructed. “I am Jagar Tharn, the Royal Battlemage of Nirn! I demand to be given passage, as is my right granted to me by this symbol! Let me pass and enter!” He spoke. Despite the fact that the vacuum robbed all sound from his voice, the wall heard him and split, revealing an ornate gate of bronze, with a gigantic version of the Battlespire’s dragon engraved into it. The doors opened, revealing a surprisingly mundane room of crude stone. Aureus smiled and stepped inside. Behind him, the doors closed and he assumed that the wall had closed as well.
The only furniture he could see were a few sofas, not fit for a noble yet still comfortable enough to serve a commoner. He was clearly in a waiting room of sorts. “I’m inside. Now I just need to find the right room, drop off the package and make it back to the Shiftgate on time, unseen. Easier said than done.” He muttered as he moved for the simple wooden door on the other side of the room.
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Fabulous hairneedle attack! I'm gonna be bald before I hit twenty.
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