Cyrodiil Options

[Alexander]

Ok, so for the unavoidable introduction babble, as most of you know I was rather pleased with Morrowind. I thought it was far better then the dribble I wrote prior to that, and most people seemed to agree with me. After I finished Morrowind I already had an idea for a sequel, I actually wrote the very first chapter of said sequel while I was posting up parts of Morrowind. Unfortunately though, after that first chapter I kind of lost interest. I didn’t think the ideas I had back then were enough to weave an entire story together, and I was probably right.

But as these things have a habit of developing themselves, over the past months I kept thinking back to the sequel, and kept adding ideas to the pile I already had. Now it’s done. I once again enjoyed writing this, and I hope you’ll have similar fun reading it.

As I’ve explained in the past, I’m not very good at making up things like titles, Akatosh knows it took me about as long to come up with the various titles of the chapters as it did to write the entire thing, so I’ve named the story “Cyrodiil” (catchy wot? )

Before I end my babbling and get on with posting the story, I once again would like to thank Treydog for agreeing to help with my story as editor, and for fixing the many, many, many grammatical and spelling errors, and placing every comma, semicolon and whatchamacallit in the correct place. And thanks to everyone who ever read Morrowind, and commented. I really enjoy the comments.


Now, while you don’t have to have read Morrowind, I believe in order to get the most out of Cyrodiil, it would be recommended.


So, enough babbling and on to Cyrodiil.

[Alexander]

Ocato felt the sweat running down his face. At least he hoped it was merely sweat and not blood as well. The fireball had scattered the mages; two lay dead where the spell had hit, and the rest had spread out through the cave to make it harder for Mannimarco to hit them.

Looking at the central platform, Ocato saw Mannimarco standing in exactly the same spot as before. The blast from the fireball hadn’t even touched him it seemed. How were they ever going to defeat him?

One by one Ocato saw the other mages throw spells at Mannimarco, a fireball, a lightning blast, he himself tried frost magic. Some tried to paralyze Mannimarco or cast spells of silence, but nothing seemed to harm him. A powerful shield spell protected Mannimarco against anything they might throw at him.

Using telepathy, Ocato ordered the mages to combine their power into groups and thus increase the spells thrown at Mannimarco, but even that had no apparent effect on the King of Worms.

Now Mannimarco turned to look at where one of the mages was standing, and a fireball started forming above him again. Ocato looked at his target and shouted, “Bothiel, no!” But it was too late. Moving his arm forward, Mannimarco cast the spell and Bothiel was shrouded in fire.

He was simply picking them off one by one it seemed. Mannimarco kept throwing spells and each time he threw a spell, another cry could be heard.

Ocato now truly felt despair. He’d seen some of his best friends die this day, some just moments ago, and all apparently in vain. It had been a mistake to come here he now knew. The ten of them combined had been no more of a match against Mannimarco then a slaughterfish would be against Akatosh.

He had to struggle to remain upright and not just lay down to accept the inevitable. Perhaps, perhaps if they held on long enough there, Kvatch could be conquered, the Necromancers there beaten. Perhaps. But would it really matter? Would Mannimarco be less powerful alone and without the followers he had amassed?

Deep inside, Ocato knew the answer, but to even consider it would acknowledge that the day had been a waste and a sham, and therefore he choose not to even think about it.

But who could defeat Mannimarco? If the ten of them couldn’t, not just ten random wizards but ten of the greatest practitioners of magic in all of Cyrodiil, then who could? Could the famed Lord Nerevar? If rumors spoke truth then he might, but he was Akatosh knows where, and although he had guided Ocato and the others to the new heir, it was plain that he held no love for the empire. Ocato judged it more likely Lord Nerevar would simply wait for Mannimarco to move against Morrowind before interfering.

Or perhaps that was just an overly negative thought. If it was, he would never know. Ocato had come to realize a while ago that he wouldn’t make it out of the Echo Cave alive. But even knowing that, and truly realizing it, he also knew he had a choice. He couldn’t choose if he died that day, but he could choose how he died. He could either be blasted away from behind the rock where he was hiding, or he could die facing Mannimarco, and giving his all one last time.

Slowly rising, Ocato wiped the blood out of his eyes and turned to gaze upon the King of Worms. Mannimarco looked at Ocato with those dead eyes of his, empty of all feeling, all compassion, all humanity. On the far side of the room, Ocato saw Raminus Polus look at him from behind some crates. Ocato smiled, glad to see at least one of his companions still alive.

For some reason it filled him with a renewed sense of strength. He rose to his full height and boldly stared at the King of Worms. If it was Ocato’s time, then let Arkay take him with haste and deliver his soul onto another plane.

Mannimarco smiled at Ocato, a twisted mocking smile, and raised his hands. Ocato had seen this before many times this night. The inevitable ball of flame was growing in between the great necromancer’s hands. Ocato knew the end was near, and closed his eyes.

Even through his closed eyelids he saw a great white light growing clearer with every passing second.