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 didn’t understand why he didn’t feel anything. Was this how death felt? Nothing? No pain whatsoever? Of course he no longer had skin to feel with, nor a body for that matter, but it just didn’t feel right. He should have felt something.

Slowly opening his eyes, Ocato saw he was still in the same place he’d been right before. He saw his feet, his legs, he gazed at his hands. Everything seemed the same. Slowly looking up, he expected this to be yet another cruel ploy by Mannimarco, prolonging what they both knew would happen for as long as possible to give Ocato the biggest scare possible, but when his eyes met the place where Mannimarco had been standing, he was no longer there.

Turning left, then right, up and down, Mannimarco was nowhere to be found.

On the other side of the cave, Ocato saw Raminus’ head slowly rising above the wooden crates he’d been sitting behind. He looked unbelievingly at the center platform, then to Ocato and back to the central platform again.

Walking slowly, still shaking, Ocato made his way over to Raminus. “Is it over, Ocato?”

“I’m not sure Raminus; I saw a white light, and then Mannimarco was gone. I have no idea what happened.”

“Nor I. I was afraid to even look after Mannimarco started creating that new ball of fire. Scared he might be aiming it at me. I fear I do not have your courage Ocato.”

“Courage? Is accepting the inevitable courageous? I wonder.”

A moan coming from the other side of Raminus cut off whatever Ocato might have wanted to say next. Moving over he saw the prone body of Tar-Meena lying in a small pool of blood.

Ocato moved to kneel over her and surveyed the damage. “She was hit pretty bad Ocato; I tried to give what power I could to heal her, but I fear for her life.”

Silently nodding, Ocato had already begun to form a spell in his mind. He knew he was unable at that moment to fully heal Tar-Meena, but perhaps he could do enough for her to keep her whole long enough to get her to a proper healer, or at least a mage with enough power left to fully heal her.

Getting back up again, Ocato walked slowly through the bodies, or parts of bodies, of the wizards that had come in with them. It soon became clear to him though that they would not walk out with them again. Ten had entered, and with luck, three might walk out again.

Just then, a humming sound could be heard, followed by a rush of air and not two feet from them, two Dunmer stood- one male in a blue robe, and one ancient looking female clothed in a robe with a spider pattern on it.

The female saw Tar-Meena lying hurt and, without bothering to speak, swiftly walked over to her and knelt beside her. Already Ocato could feel the power flowing from the Dunmer into Tar-Meena.

He looked questioningly up at the Dunmer male, who while not as old-looking as the female, surely didn’t look to be a spring deer.

“My apologies for my companion’s abrupt mannerism Chancellor, but I’m afraid she’s never been one for diplomacy. But where are my manners; please allow me to introduce myself, my name is Baladas Demnevanni, Magister of Great House Telvanni and here at the request of our esteemed Archmagister. The lady tending to your companion’s wounds is Mistress Dratha, also from House Telvanni.”

“You must be wondering what two Dunmer are doing here in the middle of nowhere. Well, to Morrowind this is the middle of nowhere, at least,” Baladas said with a sly wink. “I believe there is quite a bit we’ll have to talk about Chancellor, to inform you of everything that has really happened. But then, we have plenty of time for that.”

For the first time in what seemed an eternity, Ocato felt himself relax as he sat down on a rock to listen to this Dunmer.