The Famous Five, Heroes and Villains of the Age of Martin Septim Options

[Ceidwad]

Welcome to my fanfic. I've been planning on posting this up for some time now. Now that I have the first 10,000 words or so down seperately, I feel ready to post some stuff up here. I hope you will all enjoy reading it as it develops. I haven't a clue how much I will write eventually, if I manage to finish it. But it will likely be very, very long. Indeed, there's an excellent chance that I'll finish writing a Skyrim fan fiction before (if) I finish this!

The Famous Five is an unusual fan fiction. It takes the form of a historical commentary/synthesised text written some 90 years after the events of Oblivion, and relies rather heavily on my own creative license to fill in some historical gaps in between 4E2, when the stories end, and 4E85 when the book is written (I should add, I have not read any Elder-Scrolls related lore works, such as the Infernal City).

This work weaves together the stories of five different characters that I roleplayed in Oblivion, and I hope to include some of my minor characters in it too. Subject to approval, it may also be nice to include some other chorrol.com members' fanfic characters in it too. It would be entertaining to see the outcome of a meeting between Luther Martinus (who you will get to know) and, say, Buffy or Teresa, for certain!

At present, I regrettably do not have screenshots; however, I hope to add some in future if and when I can get Oblivion for PC.

This is my first attempt at writing a fan fiction. I have thought about it for a while, though. I welcome critique of my writing as well as positive comments. I have not planned most of the fanfic, but have a general plan of how it will pan out. It will include actual in-game events, relationships and quests which inspired my roleplaying, and be supplemented with whatever ideas take my fancy at the time of writing.

Below is the prologue and the first entry. I plan to update every few days to a week, depending on how much I can write. This will vary. At times, I may not update for a while. I do, however, hope to persevere with this and update pretty regularly.

Happy reading!

This post has been edited by Ceidwad: Mar 26 2011, 05:00 AM

[Ceidwad]

SubRosa - There are too many orcs frequenting the Newlands. Frankly, one orc is too many! Let's hope Guilbert's lot in life improves from here on.

Acadian - Thanks! I'm glad you like the diary format and the way I'm trying to mix action and reflection. One drawback is that compared to the other style of fanfics it can get very dull very easily: today Gwen did this, this, and this. So I have to try and visualise the scene as Gwen is writing. That's why it helps to have a time of day an to sometime update several times a day; it helps me to decide what events have happened thus far and therefore what Gwen knows at that point.

Also I have to take some liberties with realism; realistically a normal person may not remember, much less bother to record several lines of spoken dialogue in a diary, but I get around that by assuming that Gwen is a diary nut and is happy to spend hours writing in it per day, and that as an Altmer she has better-than-human memory.

Grits - Thanks. While the Jemane brothers are around, they will cerainly be entertaining, I hope. They will develop a rapport with Gwen and when they eventually leave she will miss them.

Midnight – The Oak and Crosier tavern, Chorrol

Reynald and Guilbert have been reunited. Guilbert could hardly contain his emotion as he rushed to greet his brother. Initially, Reynald apparently thought he was staring at his own reflection in the water, shouting at Guilbert to ‘get out of my head, water-man’. But, as I took Reynald through it step-by-step, the realisation seemed to shake the ale-induced haze from his memory and he recalled his brother. Much shaking of hands and embracing ensued. The Bretons are more rugged than mer in their greetings and displays of affection, but the sentiments are the same.

This display of familial love reminded me of my own family. I am an only child, but my cousins, Bronwyn and Caithalor, lived near to the royal court in Alinor and are to me just as a sister and a brother. Bronwyn is a promising alchemical student, deeply self-reflective, who has written a great treatise on master alchemists of the past and their secrets. Caithalor, on the other hand, shuns the arts magicka save for the school of Restoration, and is a captain in the Alinor city Guard. Two more different people you could not hope to meet, yet, like the contrast between Reynald’s drunkenness and Guilbert’s sobriety, nothing takes away from the ties that bind them together, not even years spent apart.

After they had shared stories of their lives since the fateful day they were separated on their family farm - Guilbert of his life in the Fighters Guild, and Reynald of his life as the Chorrol charity case – they turned to me and asked me if I would accompany them back to their farm, called Weatherleah. Guilbert said that it would probably be ‘one hell of a mess’ at this stage, but both brothers were agreed: they wanted to start a new life at their old home, and were willing to do whatever it took to rebuild.

I accepted their request. They may be vulgar and not much blessed by Julianos, but, truth be told, I actually like them. With his display of his prowess with warhammers, Guilbert made me laugh as hard as I have since I had met Robért on the White Rose – nearly a month ago – and we had played Colovian poker. He took my teasing in good grace, too, commenting that his compatriots in the Fighters Guild even had a drinking song for him. Apparently, it went something like this:

Journeyman Jemane,
his swing is rather lame.
Journeyman Jemane,
he can't dish out no pain.
He calls himself 'Wolfsbane',
But he's so very tame
Journeyman Jemane,
his swing is rather lame.

He fought the wolves of Kvatch,
But found himself outmatched;
He took on Skingrad’s bears,
But ran home jolly scared.
Between just me and you,
Anvil’s imps he slew;
But Journeyman Jemane,
His swing’s still rather lame.

His hammer’s heavy head,
May make you sigh with dread;
But watch him swing it round,
You’ll feel safe and sound.
Cos Journeyman Jemane,
He can’t dish out no pain;
Journeyman Jemane,
His swing’s so very lame.

Oh, how he makes me laugh! He may have a rather simple-looking face, but such self-deprecating humour betrays a small spark of intelligence and wit in Guilbert. His ability to laugh at his own failures would be alien to my parents and indeed myself, and has no doubt contributed to his general mediocrity, but it makes him endearing and charming.

Further, and despite his previously comical form with his hammer, he displayed genuine skill when we were threatened by a group of imps on the Red Ring Road. He swatted one away with a sideways sweep that betrayed a technique obviously well-honed from years of practice, whilst the others were taken down by a passing soldier of the Legion.

Indeed, travelling with him has made me feel safe for the first time since I arrived here. If we run into anything on the way to his farm, I am certain he will be fine, even if he has asked me to accompany them due to my restorative skills. Indeed, I feel that it is I who is in need of his help, rather than the contrary. I may be able to heal wounds and mend broken limbs, but I am helpless against a highwayman or bandit, whose weapons are of iron and steel, not of magicka.

Guilbert has almost been like a bodyguard on this short trip. Even Reynald is not so bad, when you get used to the smell. Azura’s mercy, did I really just write that? That shows how much I have condescended in this hostile environment. Perhaps my travels have been good for me in that way. After all, my parents did tell me that I would ‘grow up’ in Cyrodiil. Possibly they had meant that I would learn how to heal Superior wounds, rather than how to survive the company of Bretons, but nonetheless they were right: I am learning. Just as the proprietor of this tavern in which I am staying has proven that Khajiit may be civilised (although most are still clearly brutes), so I truly know that ignorance does not make one a bad person, as Guilbert’s example attests to.

The Jemanes are eager to proceed to Weatherleah, but they have no clue where it is, save that it is south of Chorrol. Small wonder, given that they have not seen it since their tender childhood years. We will therefore question the townspeople and Fighters Guild as to its whereabouts tomorrow, as well as preparing for the journey. Guilbert and Reynald will need weapons and armour of good quality. Guilbert’s ramshackle iron cuirass, which barely fits him, is simply no good. Reynald, meanwhile, does not look too well-protected in his linens, nor – and equally importantly – does he look (or smell) particularly attractive in them either.

I can spare the septims. I have 563 remaining, and in two weeks I can collect my next deposit – another 1,000 septims. If it means avoiding Surilies vintage and living in guild halls for the next 15 days, it will be a price worth paying for the Jemanes’ safety against anything we should meet.

By Azura, I must cease to write now. It is 2 A.M. – time to retire to the comfort of the nice big bed here in my room. Guilbert and Reynald are staying at Reynald’s home here in town; we will meet up tomorrow at lunchtime, in this tavern.

This post has been edited by Ceidwad: Jul 3 2011, 05:39 PM