Necromancer's Dream, A Story of Arvas Options

[Lord Veneficus]

I know, it's short; just bear with me.

Chapter I

Arvas sat in the dim, noisy tavern on the outskirts of the Imperial City. The drunkards stumbled about the room, bumping into tables and spitting curses at the more sober groups of people. Much raucous laughter filled the smoky air as traveling minstrels strummed their lutes and pounded on their drums. The innkeeper was hunched over a dirty glass, proceeding to wipe away the grime caked at the bottom of the mug. He was balding and almost as tall as Arvas; but due to his massive hunch, his head came up to Arvas’s chest. He was slowly swaying back and forth with to the tune of the music.

“Excuse me barkeep, can I have another tankard of beer, please,” Arvas asked, raising his cup up. The barkeep disappeared behind the counter and returned with a somewhat clean mug. He hobbled over to the beer tap and poured Arvas a generous amount. Arvas took the mug and raised it slightly, saying, “Thanks.” He downed the beer in minutes.

His life had recently taken a downfall. He had to flee Morrowind, as he wanted to free himself from the temple. He didn’t agree with all of their beliefs.

A man had stood up, knocking his chair over in the process. His staff glowed with bright blue magicka. No one seemed to care as he screamed into the face of a rather bulky man, who was unfazed by the dark-robed mage in his face. He rather stared off into space. “I…I could… kill ye righ’ now if ye wanted me too, Bjorn.” He stuttered as he wobbled to the door. Arvas stood from the creaky old stool and began for the door. The innkeeper looked at him and said, “Where you goin’ boy? Come pay for this.” He shook the empty mug at him. Arvas sprinted from the tavern, away from the Imperial City.

He entered the fort that he had cleared out a few days ago. It wasn’t very large because it was only built for a captain and several of his men. The beds were ancient and holes were eaten out of the sheets from the many moths that floated about in the darkness. He slumped down into his bed and attempted to sleep, which proved difficult. He was worried that at any moment someone could come in his small makeshift home and take him back to Vvardenfell.

After two hours of tossing and turning, he finally fell asleep, dreaming of one day becoming the greatest sorcerer of the ages…



This post has been edited by Lord Veneficus: May 13 2008, 01:12 PM

[Lord Veneficus]

Chapter XIV

Arvas had no intention on getting drunk. He wanted to, but he decided against it as it seemed ignorant on his behalf. He looked up from the bar at Mera and said, “I have to go, Mera. It was a pleasure meeting you.” He stood from the stool and tossed the innkeeper ten septims and headed up to his room.

Mera moved towards him, her icy blue eyes stopped him in his tracks. She leaned down and gave him a peck on his cheek. “I will come to see you in the morning. We’ll have breakfast here,” she said as she moved towards the door. Arvas touched his hand to his cheek while he walked up the stairs towards his room. He wondered whether she was genuine in her intentions, because female Altmer are usually deceitful and carry a hidden agenda on their shoulders. He would decide that in due time.

He entered his room, it was a large one. The roof was low, Arvas could barely raise his hand up and he could touch the ceiling. The wood was of a mahogany color but had the texture of oak. Along the walls, there were two portraits; one of the emperor and the other of the late count of Chorrol. They were extremely lifelike and Arvas could feel their happiness when the portraits were painted. There was a beautifully crafted desk in the corner of the room, it had empty pieces of parchment, a quill and a bottle ink lying on its smooth surface. Arvas looked over the bed positioned on the center of the back wall; its quilt was red, with gold satin trim and pillows of silk. This was by far the most comfortable bed Arvas had ever laid eyes on.

Arvas took his black chain-mail off and laid it next to the bedside table. He hung his tunic in the wardrobe and put on his black leather pants. Then, he laid in the bed and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the soft silky pillow.

He woke the next morning feeling like an entirely new person. He put his chain-mail back on and pulled the bright white tunic over him. His black leather gauntlets and boots were put on last. He clasped his silver longsword to his belt and sat at the desk, wondering when Mera would show up.

A knock on the door sounded in the silence that surrounded Arvas. He got up and went to answer the door. When he opened it, he saw Mera in front of him, holding a large plate with ham and potatoes. She motioned for him to follow. Arvas nodded and strode behind her down the steps. They went to sit at a table closest to the door. Mera put the plate down and took a piece of ham from it.

“Well… I’m new to this. I haven’t found anyone who is intriguing to me,” She said as she cut the ham. Arvas looked from his plate and gave her a smile.

“What makes you think that I’ll be any different? I am just a normal Dunmer doing normal Dunmer things, you know?” He replied politely. “And besides, wouldn’t you with a Dunmer make you look bad?”

She smiled and said, “You are very intriguing, Arvas. I know you don’t do ‘normal’ Dunmer things. Me being with you would make me look bad, yes. But I don’t really care what others think. My Altmer brethren are ignorant and don’t realize what the other cultures of the many different races have brought to us.”

“But, how are Altmer ignorant? Summerset has some of the most powerful mages and most intelligent scholars in all of Tamriel,” Arvas argued. It was odd hearing that come from a High Elf’s mouth.

“I meant in the ways of traditions and values, Arvas. They cannot understand what benefits can be reaped through diversity.”

“Oh, I see. So you don’t see other races as lowly as or less knowledgeable than your own?” Arvas asked. He hadn’t met many Altmer in Morrowind who didn’t think of him as a dirty low-life, even though his father is a famous priest of the Temple of the Tribunal.

“No, of course not. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you that for a while now. Haha, you are very much different from the other Dunmer I’ve met. You’re not arrogant at the others.”

“Yes, that’s true. Wait! What’s that supposed to mean?” Arvas asked, taken aback at her comment.

“I was just kidding, Arvas. Haha. You are not arrogant at all. You’re more of the kinder ones.” She smiled at him. Arvas felt that this woman was genuine in her intentions. “Well I have to go. Important business you know.” She stood from the table and made her way to the door.

“Are you going to be back later on today?” Arvas asked. He was hoping he would get to see her again before the day was over. She nodded and left the inn; Arvas saw her slender body saunter down the street. He smiled and sat back in his chair.