A New Sun Rises - Maxical's Adventures, The Truth Behind The Oblivion Crisis Options

[mALX]

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A New Sun Rises

This story covers the daily events in the two years leading up to the Oblivion Crisis. It begins following the life of a semi-typical Khajiit girl who inadvertently finds herself the pawn of a powerful necromancer just as factions and forces begin moving into position.

When motivations are revealed it drives out the secrets of forgotten pasts, and another Khajiit girl whose life was an intertwined mirror of her own till both were altered irrevocably by the same necromancer in whose power they both found themselves.

The diverse paths their lives took merge once again in an explosive revelation that leaves one wondering how much of her skills and personality were ever her own; the other in a desperate struggle to keep control of her life, keep from being used against the Emperor as the crisis that will change Cyrodiil and the rule of Tamriel forever begins.

Maxical

Prologue

Sun's Dusk ( 3rd Era, year 432 )
Ma�Thjizzrini Qa
15 years after her parent's deaths

Fate is an invincible enemy in a battle you�ll never leave unscathed. It stalks you as prey and strikes regardless of shields or armor. The gods and other realms can find entertainment in manipulating your path on a whim; or ancient vampires dabble with your life, alter your mind without you even knowing it. Sometimes you don�t find out till it is too late.

I�d like to blame the gods for where I found myself, but the truth is that somewhere between the void and the Dreamsleeve lies fate; a place where time and space meet; where even the blackness of the void doesn�t reach, and the gods make wagers on the outcome of lives caught in the �tween.

Wedged into that fold are damned souls, souls that have been marked for paths they can�t change, to destinies they can�t escape. Ancient vampire's eyes see them as beacons, follow them as scents, control their minds without their ever knowing.

They are targets for revenge of an enemy they don't even know exists, pawns in a game they didn't even know was being played; whose contestants their worst nightmares couldn�t envision.


That�s where I found myself fifteen years after the game started. That was the day I found out that everything I�d ever known about myself had always been�her. Amiela.

Amiela was a 137 years old demon of a vampire that thrived on destruction and usurped whatever she could from others. She died a century before I was born, but the wars being fought over her didn�t end with her death. Her soul was marked�and inside me.

For me, fate was my parents bringing me through the heavy forested area of the Gold Road just outside Skingrad at the same time the second worst necromancer of our time was in a battle for the soul of Amiela. And there I was, a convenient hiding spot.

That was the day my parents died. All I ever knew of them was where they died and what killed them. I was twenty years old before I even learned my mother's name. I was twenty years old before I remembered Nisaba. Nissy.

*******



Nisaba

Nissy�s beginning didn�t just match mine, it was mine; though neither of us knew it before we�d both turned twenty years old. That was the year our paths crossed again and we learned the only scraps of our histories anyone was ever able to recover. That's when we learned our destinies were intertwined long before our lives began.

Nissy and I were born within a month of each other in the year 412, both born in the 'no-man's' land of wild mountain passes between Vvardenfell and Cyrodiil. Our parents were traveling together and we were born en route, but our histories began long before that.

From early childhood our parents were owned by Hlormaren, a Dunmer Stronghold on the Bitter Coast of Vvardenfell. Before that they were housed in the same children's slave pen on the mainland. Maybe our histories began long before that, but that was the furthest back any information went that we were able to find.

Nissy�s mother died giving birth to her. Her father dropped her off at the Imperial Legion Orphanage for the un-adoptable when she was two. Three years later a Legionnaire dropped me off there when my parents were killed in a minotaur attack.

Fate once again found Nissy and me four years later in the middle of the night, right there in our room at that orphanage. We were both nine years old when our destinies were wrenched into the hands of the worst necromancer Tamriel has known since the King of Worms. Both of us have been in his power in one way or another since. Dagoth-Malan.

That was eleven years ago, eleven years that Nissy waited for me to keep a promise to save her...eleven years that all my memories of her were stolen by Dagoth-Malan so I couldn�t keep that vow. Until fate brought us together again when we both turned twenty.

Nissy and me, we were both in the wrong place at the wrong time. Fate.

** The Beginning **



Where Memories Begin And End

Legion Office, Imperial City
3rd Era, year 417 (memories of events that occurred when Maxical was five years old)

The earliest memory of my lifetime begins and ends in the Legion headquarters in the Imperial City. I�ve never been able to remember a single moment of my life before finding myself in that office.

It was a coming awake. A dark void of nothingness, and then in a blink my eyes were open and there I stood in that office with no idea where I was or how I got there.

An odd putrid odor I couldn't name seemed to be clinging inside my nostrils and roiling my stomach, even the pungent stench of sweat emanating from the large man behind the desk was a welcome relief in comparison.

There was an odd feeling of having forgotten something important that niggled irritatingly, a barb that probed against my mind to remember, but there was nothing to answer its incessant prodding. Nothing. It was like a journey through a maze with only dead ends at every turn. I didn't know where I had come from, where I belonged, or who I belonged to.

At first I barely understood what they were saying; strange sounding words spoken so harshly and rapidly that it was impossible to grasp even one to decipher. They couldn�t understand me at all when I spoke.

Somewhere deep inside me in a place as unconnected to me as the lost memories of my life before that office there was the oddest sensation; a stirring, as if that part of me was just now waking. Suddenly their words were striking a chord of recognition It almost felt as if I could speak their tongue, but when my mouth opened the words still came out in the only language I knew.

*******

The large sweaty man behind the desk pointed at me. "What is that?"

"Don't know, only that it's the get of some beasts killed by a minotaur up on the big curve of the Gold Road in County Skingrad. Couldn't tell what they were either. The mother was a bloody mess; but the male...fur black as coal soot, and the same flattened face as that one's." He indicated my face, then added, "Too big for a cat, never seen anything like him. Both bore slave tattoos so they can't be from Cyrodiil. No travel papers or identification on either body."

The large sweating man's chair groaned loudly as he leaned over and gave me an intrusive and extended eyeing. "That ain't no Khajiit, not with that white coloring. That face gives me the creeps, you said the male looked the same? This one must be an albino then. No telling what you'll find in those other Provinces, all barbarians." He spat a large wad of brown cud into the urn beside him.

"The male had been looted; they even took his clothes, naked as a jaybird he was. Found this in the brush near the female's body." He held out a blood spattered travel pack. "When I moved her body this silver dagger was underneath her, and this gold locket fell off her neck. Chain was broken, likely in the attack."

The rotund man tossed him a cloth to wrap the items in, then pointed at me. "How old do you think it is?"

"Too small to be very old. Can't be much more than a couple years. It walks well enough, though. And mark it as female, it squatted to relieve itself on the way here."

"Two year old female." The large man wrote something down.

"And a bad tempered one at that. She scratched me up good trying to get her on the horse." That was met with raucous laughter from the men gathered.

"It's that red hair!" Someone called.

The mocking laughter and insulting treatment I understood without the help of that strange place within me that seemed to know this language. I didn't know anything about myself or how I got here, I was confused and up till that moment terrified. But at that moment I learned that I had a temper. I could feel it building inside me like a fire about to go out of control.

In my rage I nearly missed that their odd contortions and rudimentary gestures to communicate were attempts to get my name. My name. That would be important to find out who I was.

�Ma'Thjizzrini Qa.� A girls voice squealed from behind me. I turned to see a Khajiit girl in the doorway staring at me wide eyed.

"Ma'Thjizzrini Qa!" She started running toward me, but one of the armored men grabbed her and pushed her back out the door.

As soon as she said it I knew that was my name, it struck a familiar chord immediately. I repeated it, imitating their miming gestures by pointing to my chest. �Ma'Thjizzrini Qa.�

"Name, Maxical." The rotund man wrote something down, then stamped his seal on the document.

*******

They said I was found beside my parents, was there when they were killed. I didn't remember any of it. It felt like they talked abstractly about strangers. The greatest shock for me that day and so many days since was that I didn't even know my mother's name; wasn't able to bring an image of her to my mind, or even a glimpse of a moment with her or the sound of her voice. It was like she disappeared into the void, taking every remembrance of her.

That day in the Legion office though, that I will never forget. The smell of pipe smoke and tobacco, male sweat and steel; those odors bring back the memory of that day as if it was still alive within me, still happening to me.

It has stayed fresh in my mind all these years; but not because I wanted to remember it. It was that haunting memory that was just out of grasp beyond it, the sheer number of times I�d come to that stopping point in my memory and tried to force beyond it to find something, anything of who I was; of my life before that Legion office. Of my mother.

That day, those men staring at me as if I were an insect as they tried to determine what I was, what I was saying...what to do with me. All through it my mind burned with trying to figure out who I was and how I got there. I'll never forget that day.

*******

This post has been edited by mALX: May 4 2019, 07:13 PM

[mALX]

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The Arcane

Chapter 15: The Bloodworks





The sound of the healing fount being activated woke me. I was laying on my back across the top of it and Owyn was leaning over me working on my shoulder and side. The infusion of magicka and healing spells bathed me in their aura, washing away the pain and exhaustion. I had heard it go off several times, I must have been in bad shape at the end of the match. Owyn was a master healer and could be compared to Arch Mage Traven for his healing ability. If he could only learn to be silent while he healed you.

"You did it! You got the crowds behind you! People will be coming to see you fight now, I'm moving all your fights to the weekends from now on. That thing you did with your tail, you had 'em eating out of your hand out there! Now you listen to me, Maxical. I didn't think I'd see you come out of there tonight. Don't get cocky now and stop your training. It could have gone either way tonight, you know that as well as I do. You made mistakes that could have cost your life. You need to train harder than ever now." Owyn was babbling. I closed my eyes again and let him work on me, hoping he would think I was passed out and stop jabbering.

Owyn was right, I had been cocky going into this match. Till today I had been fighting against people that really were raw recruits. Today I had been seriously challenged and really didn't think I was going to come out of that Arena.

All my dreams of being a warrior came down to this match. Was I going to learn from it and improve; or take the fear it had instilled in me and run away, quit the Arena. Owyn was right that I needed to train harder, but training is never against someone who wants to actually see you dead. How smug one can get when they do well in a practice; but it is all a game, play acting. There is nothing serious in that practice room.

What I faced today in that Arena was what the raw recruits I fought before now must have felt when they went up against me. But I was still playacting even then. The thought that I was killing them, actual death ... it never occurred to me even as I left the Arena a victor and cleaned their blood from my sword. Today was the first day that reality set in.

And yet ... the crowd today. It is an addiction that begins in your soul the first time they chant your name. You need them, live for their response, crave their voices calling your name. It feeds a hunger inside you that you never knew existed till that first time, that first experience of having them there for you. Now I know what "You live for that crowd out there" means; but what about the end of that? What about the other half of that saying Owyn has pounded into our heads, "You die for that crowd out there." What about that part of it? Am I willing to die for them? I know I almost did today, but am I willing to go back in and take that chance again? I know several that have, for I had to wipe their blood from my sword. But that was before it was almost my blood on someone else's sword, and them leaving the Arena the victor.

My usual buoyant spirits were subdued by the fight today. I had to make a decision on if I wanted to continue or not. I wished I could talk to Alix, wished I hadn't runaway from home. There was only one other person I could ask for advice on this, my friend Agronak. When Owyn got me wrapped up like a mummy I hobbled over and signaled him to let him know I'd be waiting for him when he got done practicing.

My mat is behind Ysabel Andronicus, she is the Battle Matron here. She handles the Grand Championship fights, and is Agronak's trainer and manager since he is the Grand Champion. At night she manages the women that sleep in the Bloodworks on an unofficial basis. We sleep where she tells us to. She can't stand having women in the Bloodworks, and the feeling is mutual. None of us can stand her.

She is insanely jealous over Owyn. Now, we all love Owyn, but no one is fighting for a place on his mat including Andronicus. She just doesn't want to see anyone else with him. They have a history that none of us can stomach picturing. We are all just glad it never came to fruition, if any of us had to see the two of them kiss we would all go out and throw ourselves on the next sword.

I guess because I was the youngest female in there she had pointed at me my first day in the Bloodworks and then pointed to the mat behind her. "That is where you sleep." She commanded.

It didn't matter to me when she is sleeping, but awake she has a very coarse and strident voice. Today she was doing a lot of loud hollering, her brash voice edged against my nerves. I needed a quiet place to think. I signaled Agronak again and pointed to the other end of the room down by the fount. There were a few mats in a dark corner there and it was quieter. Only one mat was occupied by a man pleasuring himself. I slumped down on the mat furthest from him.

There is a saying, "If you haven't seen it in the Bloodworks, it don't exist." It's the truth. Of course we all have to undress and change in front of each other, but there is much more that goes on pretty much out in the open down here. It took me a while to get used to it, my eyes stayed bugged out of my head constantly at first.

My first day in the Bloodworks was the first time I had actually ever seen what a man looked like naked. My first reaction, (which thankfully I kept to myself) had been "GAAAH!" But I was trying to sound mature and worldly, so I held that in. Instead I pointed to his member and said, "What is that?" and then looked down at my own self wondering if it was something that would grow on me now that I had the blue show.

"It's my sword." He said, and began walking over to me. I think he was about to show me something when Andronicus stepped up and dragged me into the corner to finish changing. My head was turned back as she dragged me away because the appendage had begun changing in shape and size.

Andronicus explained a whole lot of things to me in a very coarse way that surprisingly made things a lot clearer in my mind about everything than the Arcane ever did with their lectures on biology. Suddenly a whole lot of the dirty jokes I had told made a lot more sense. I now knew how babies were made as well.

I didn't sleep well my first night, my mind kept drumming up images of all I had seen that day. In the middle of the night I suddenly thought of Fathis. I sat up so quickly that the movement woke Andronicus.

"What is it?" She hissed.

"Fathis Aren." I whispered.

Andronicus sat up right away. "What about him?"

I swear butter could have melted in her mouth how sweet and interested she sounded suddenly. Her eyes were agog.

"I just realized what those men were saying about Fathis Aren all those years ago."

Andronicus insisted on hearing everything. She listened as if devouring every word till I told her that I was promised to Fathis.

"You can forget about that. Fathis Aren is a proud man, and would not sully himself with any of the beast species nor a fighter from the Arena, not even for a night's pleasure." Andronicus spat.

Some instinct told me she had been interested in Fathis Aren and had not prevailed. I wondered if her feelings for Fathis had been the reason she turned down Owyn's marriage proposal.

Still, what she said cut deeply. Fathis was a very proud man, I knew this about him. I just always thought his feelings for me overcame the fact that I was of the beast species. She had to be correct, though. At the end of every fight I always scanned the crowds to see if Fathis was there, he never was. I think that night was the first time I realized that I had lost any chance I had with Fathis when I lost his golden armor. And now here I was in the Arena, and Andronicus as much as said that Fathis turned her down because she was a fighter in the Arena. I lay back down feeling like someone had punched me in the stomach.

Eventually you become inured to the things that go on in the Bloodworks. After a while it becomes no big deal to see anything. I stopped gaping at everything that went on there and my eyes went back into my head. I doubt there is much that could surprise me or shock me now.




***

Agronak woke me. "I know what is bothering you, I can see by your bandages . You had your first tough match, didn't you?"

I nodded, pulling myself up till I was seated with my back leaned on the filthy wall behind me. Agronak sat next to me on the mat, his huge bulk eating up the remaining space.

"You know, that is a decision you have to make yourself. I can tell you why I chose to stay in after my first tough fight, but I'm not you. That is something you have to find inside yourself that keeps you fighting, or not find and decide to leave the Arena." Agronak said, taking my hand. "I heard you had the crowd eating out of your hand out there today." I leaned my head on his massive arm and listened to him talk about his first bad fight.

Agronak is my best friend here. He is the first Orc I've ever known. I was drawn to watch him practice just like all the other Pit Dogs who buzz around him like a mosquito. Agronak has moves even Alix doesn't know, and he performs them with such grace and precision that you are left dumbstruck watching him. It is deceptive too, that grace. It masks the power he is capable of and has lured many a dead man to think they could beat him in the Arena. I've tried to imitate him, just like everyone has.

His Arena persona is 'The Gray Prince' which I thought was odd because Agronak is a blue Orc. He doesn't take teasing from anyone about that, which is something you learn by the mistake of doing it. I was awestruck by him just like everyone else, and sought to start up a conversation with him hoping he may show me some of his moves. My idea of a conversation starter was to ask him why he didn't call himself 'The Blue Prince'. He took one look at me and laughed.

"When you become champion you should choose the title 'The Mouthy Marauder'". He said with a toothy grin.

"No sense warning them in advance." I spouted back. That started our friendship.

Everyone was surprised I had been able to tease Agronak and live to tell about it, but I know why. It is because we are both the wrong color for our race, that is what really bonded us as friends. We had both been ostracized by our own race and treated like freaks by others.

Agronak overcame it by pushing himself to a good education and by making Grand Champion. He was well respected now, but it hadn't always been that way. He shared things with me he had never shared with another because we had that bond. Things like that have a tendency to draw you together.


***



******* Owyn:







******* The Blue team Gladiator










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This post has been edited by mALX: Jul 29 2016, 07:50 AM