Light through Darkness, Book 2, are we truly safe now? Options

[Thomas Kaira]

Welcome one and welcome all to the continuation of Light through Darkness!

For those of you only now joining us, here is the link to our previous thread:

Light through Darkness, Book 1

Enjoy your stay! All comments and criticisms are welcome.

@haute ecole rider: Magical lore is one of the many things I wanted to tackle in this tale. It is a way of getting my brain in gear, thinking about how I can make a gameplay change actually fit into the lore of the story, so I quite enjoy doing that. As for Dere, don't worry, he's landing in a cave, so he should be alright.

@Lady Syl: Thank you much for your approval of the Recommendation system. That brawl also served a very specific purpose: it let the reader know the Oblivion Main Quest would be taking place in this story, but not through the eyes of my protagonist. That is why I elected to have Julian make a cameo there, it would help to reaffirm that point.

@SubRosa: Interesting letters, I can definitely make something out of those. Ideas have already come to me, but I wouldn't tell even if you tied me to a chair and whipped me. I'm actually playing more on the game's version of Irlav, it makes sense to me that he would be a huge slowpoke who doesn't really have any passion but for making students' lives miserable.
Nit be picked.

@mALX: No, I guess Maxical's contempt for clothing might not be so bad anymore. I'm sure she would adore these Stepstones as they are right now.

@Acadian: Well still, Mer can get impatient, too. You of all people would understand this.
Nits be picked.

@all: A new thread brings new beginnings. But what will these new beginnings mean for our characters, or for Derelas? Only time will tell.

next: Welcome to Anvil, city of the sea.

Light through Darkness, Book Two

Chapter 8-1: Double Trouble

After sloshing my way out of the giant pool of black water illuminated only by the playful flames of my torch, I was feeling quite grateful I wasn’t wearing any shoes. Nevertheless, it was a highly unpleasant feeling for my legs to become so wet so suddenly, and not just because the water was so cold. As I pulled my shoes back on over my flax socks, it started to occur to me that this probably was not the worst I could expect from these Stepstones. The frayed and cracked surface of the stone that received me made me rather certain that it was not supposed to be here. What sort of cataclysm might have transformed what was once a verdant hillside into a musty cave full of tidewater was not something that thrilled me to ponder, but that was hardly the point. If I were to be using these things, there was no telling where I would end up. The only silver lining I had was that they were scattered all over the place; you could find them in farmer’s fields, up on top of the Colovian Highlands, and, as I learned today, perhaps even at the bottom of the sea. Just to use one would be to gamble my life away, assuming they still worked, of course.

Once I finished pulling my shirt back on, I made my way to the small door where the water was only just flowing through the tiny gap between the damp wood and the glistening ground. The water was actually noticeably lower than when I arrived as well. Looks like the the tide was going out -- Anvil was a coastal city, after all, so it would make sense. I placed my palms onto the moistened boards and pushed.

The door did not respond. Two more pushes and some pounding later, and still nothing had changed. Trapped, perfect.

The floor ran completely dry as I contemplated what to do now. I couldn’t burn the wood, as it was far too wet. My only chance would be to break the door down, but I didn’t have anything quite heavy enough in my pack. And all that was in here in this cave were a few moldy old barrels and crates, hardly what I’d call destructive weaponry.

I then noticed the door had a handle. Gnashing my teeth at my oversight, I promised myself that no one would ever know of this as I pulled the door wide.

The time I spent awash in my ignorance (literally) coupled with the sheer distance traveled meant that the sky was now turning orange in the rays of the setting sun. Never before had I witnessed such a brilliantly vivid complexion upon the sky. The majesty was mirrored upon the lazily sloshing waves of the ocean, and the air was filled with the squawking calls of seagulls. To my left stood a great limestone cliff face, roughly hewn and treacherous with water roaring into rapids and out of blowholes along the base. To my right, I could just make out the tops of huge redwood trees along a similarly rocky coastline, and the slowly panning beam of the nearby lighthouse finished the scene. It was one I was quite sure numerous painters had taken upon themselves to recreate on canvas; never before had I had such a spectacular view.

The great spires of Castle Anvil loomed behind me, their cast shadows reaching clear to the other side of the nearby lagoon separating the two shorelines. They were so tall I could barely see the top of them from where I stood, as I would probably crick my neck if I tried to look any higher. As I made my way along golden-grassed and rocky shoreline of what I came to realize was a small island, the walls of Anvil came into view. The walls themselves were nothing special; it was the watchtowers that set them apart. Each tower was topped with a great conical roof, all with tiling to match the sky. The sun-kissed stucco walls beneath the roofing gave them a whitewashed sheen of which the Ayleids would be proud could they have seen them.

The great dual steeples of the Anvil chapel rose above the great brown stone of the walls with such elegance and grace they looked to be dancing with the clouds. Every last inch of the cathedral I could see that was not covered in vibrant stained glass or brilliantly orange roofing was covered in miniature statues, likely of the Nine Divines, as I could not see any faces from my distance. The chapel was easily four times the size of Bravil’s Chapel of Mara, with over twice the number of windows and buttresses, and more steeples and spires than a man could shake a stick at. Instead of one rose window, there were three, and every pointed archway, every toll of the deep, vocal bells spoke of flamboyance and grandeur – of the city that surrounded it.

Screenshot

As I made my way across the bridge leading from the castle to the city proper, I glimpsed a strange sight in the distance. The top of a high mountain peak had been blackened, and I could just barely make out a set of crumbling stone walls, as they were practically camouflaged by the ground and trees – Kvatch. They were still smoking. The sight was a blistering reminder of the reality surrounding the glowing, beautiful façade of Tamriel: danger is everywhere, and can strike at any time. Kvatch was unprepared, and they paid the price for it, but I couldn’t ever feel that they deserved what had happened to them.

Passing through the city gates, I was immediately brought to the courtyard surrounding the grand cathedral. Every inch of land that was not paved was covered in a lovingly kept bed of velvety golden grass, and unlike in Bravil, none of the tombstones in the graves had been allowed to crumble. Across the street, just north of the numerous fountains and gardens in Chapel Parkway (if the signs were to be believed), I saw yet another peculiar sight spoiling what was otherwise an untold majesty. It was a celebration of architecture and nature coming together as one in the autumn breeze here in this courtyard, but just this one sight removed all pretenses this city had to splendor. A manor house stood nearby, squalid, unkempt, and crumbling in the salty air. Every last one of the numerous vines snaking their way up the fragile walls was dead, and the roofing had fallen off in numerous places.

“Quite an eyesore isn’t it?” A voice came from behind, making me jump.

A guard clad in embroidered orange leather had come up behind me as I stared transfixed at the rapidly splitting personality of the city of Anvil. For I could just make out the High Street from behind the cathedral now, and I saw that for every majestic manor and shop, there stood another crumbling slum. It was like the city was at war with itself, fighting for whether its beauty or its sheer despicable squalor would dominate its walls; as if it refused to admit to itself that the splendor I saw from afar was little more than a farce.

“Owner’s been trying to sell that dump for a month now,” the guard continued, casting a contemptuous look back at the dilapidated house. “I have to say, I’ll be quite surprised if he can even give that place away, it’s such a blight.”

“I’ll say,” I responded, eyeing an upturned rubbish bin nearby.

“You new in town?” The guard then asked.

“Very,” I replied, “and I’ll need a little help figuring out where everything is.”

“Well, we patrolmen have got to do something,” the guard responded with pomp. “What are you looking for?”

“The nearest inn,” I replied, “and the Mages and Fighters Guilds.”

“The Count’s Arms is the best inn in the city,” the guard replied, indicating a large, well kept building a ways up Abecea Walk. “Ask for Wilbur, he’s the publican.”

“And the guilds?” I asked.

“Yokuda Loop, just across from Sea Queen statue,” the guard replied. “They’re both right beside each other, so you can’t miss them.”

“Thanks for the help,” I finished, waving a quick farewell to the guard.




----




A man in a black cloak arrived at the small wooden door, and it opened the instant he knocked.

“Ahh, Lucien,” the Dunmer greeted the shifty man warmly, allowing him to step inside. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“As I noticed,” the man returned. His voice carried a hint of malice and mystery that he was incapable of fully hiding. “So, for what have you summoned me, Tadrose? The journey was long and I am quite tired so do please try to remain brief.”

“You know why you are here.” Tadrose replied, offering a goblet of deep violet wine to the man named Lucien, which he accepted after a mild bout of consideration. “Your Brotherhood has been giving us quite a hard time as of late.”

“We are assassins, it is our business to interfere with your noble callings,” Lucien retorted smoothly. “I expect your plans have held up, all the same?”

“Yes, our mutual friend is safe in Anvil now,” Tadrose replied. “And I am going to need your help to keep it that way.”

“You would ask me to commit treason against my order?” Lucien questioned, cautiously but unfazed as a faint smile came to his lips.

“If it is not too much trouble for you,” Tadrose briskly responded, raising her own goblet of wine to her lips. “There is a man of some stature under your command, one Vicente Valtieri, I was wondering why he called for the death of our friend.”

“He fears what he might become,” Lucien replied. “He would rather see our friend dead than allow him to be given an audience with the Vampire Lord. He knows of what the Lord carries, and he knows that our friend is the only one capable of taking it from him. Naturally, he hastened to preserve his own life.”

“And you allowed this?” Tadrose interrogated.

“To refuse him would have compromised my comfortable position as Speaker for Cheydinhal,” Lucien replied smoothly, “I deemed it prudent.”

“Then I hope you have given some thought as to how you might reverse this problem you’ve caused for us?” Tadrose responded, her eyebrows narrowing. “I do not think our masters would particularly enjoy being told by you that one of your assassins managed to pierce our friend’s heart in the night.”

“And given their prodigious skill, I am quite surprised that he still yet lives.” Lucien added.

“Really?” Tadrose inquired, a dangerous note in her voice.

“There may have been some tipping of the scales in Vergayun,” Lucien responded, still unfazed. “That much I will tell.”

“But can you, or can you not make this contract vanish?” Tadrose pressed. This time, Lucien did smile.

“There is a certain exploit I might be able to take advantage of,” he replied, draining his goblet.

This post has been edited by Thomas Kaira: Apr 13 2011, 02:49 PM

[Thomas Kaira]

@McBadgere: I'm sure you will enjoy yourself reading, considering how much I enjoy writing this tale. Glad to have hooked you.

@SubRosa: Have you been dipping into Foxy's private stash again? Naughty!
On the topic of The Serpent, I consider it to be both. Most of the time, those who back away in scorn from those who are serpent-born have a reason to fear, but that isn't the whole story. As the game lore states about the Serpent: "Those born under it are the most blessed, and the most cursed." I am sticking to that, but at the same time, adding my own twist to the tale. You don't know what that twist is yet, but rest assured it will come.

@Grits: Their relationship did get off to a nice start, didn't it? I'm glad you noticed Ariella's playful side, I worked quite hard to try and bring that out. She is a girl who loves to express herself when joyful, but tends to recede into solitude when things turn uncomfortable for her. That is her personality as I envision it, and I'm glad it is showing through.

@mALX: Yes, Ariella does seem to have a way of drawing out the best in people, doesn't she?

@Acadian: I'm very glad you enjoyed that segment so much. As you have noticed, the narrative I have chosen is very strict first-person. We see the world exactly how Derelas sees it, and I have to say it is a constant challenge to make sure I don't jump out of his head, particularly when conversing with others and gauging their reactions. But that's also why I enjoy this narrative style, as well. Good practice for avoiding omniscience, too.

@King Coin: She loves to prod when the mood catches her right, though! Not too much, though, she is good about not pushing too hard, but she really makes a point of seeing what others enjoy.

Previously: Derelas and his new friend Ariella enjoyed a night of stargazing and moon-watching, sharing several happy, and equally as many uncomfortable moments as they came to know each other. Now Ariella has a little secret in store for Derelas... (not naughty, yes, I'm looking at you, Rosa! )

Chapter 10-4: A Strange Stone

Ariella leapt to her feet. Before I knew it, she had grabbed my hand and was leading me through a dense thicket of bushes. The light of both moons made it quite easy to see tonight, but it was still difficult to make out a path for all the shadowed leaves and twigs. After a few moments of brambles snapping at my clothes and hair, we reached a small clearing. Within was a veritable mountain of herbal flora: Lady’s Mantle, Goldenrod, Viper’s Bugloss, Mandrakes... everything a healing alchemist could want. Part of me was quite annoyed I didn’t find this place sooner.

But those thoughts were quickly shooed away by what I saw in the very center. There was a giant stone, almost four times taller than I was. Embroidered on its surface was a great blue rune, bespeaking of a language long since passed. A power unlike any I had ever known was emanating from this rune cleansing the air around the great stone; allowing no taint to pass.

“This is my secret garden,” Ariella told me. “Well, secret because no one else ever seems to come here. I like to sit here and watch the breeze when I need some time on my own."

“The Runestone right there blesses the soil nearby,” she continued, pointing toward the giant hewn pillar. “It helps these particular plants to grow. Each one is a healer’s herb, all perfect for Alchemist Relas’s needs. I was just heading back in when I saw you at the shrine.”

“I think I’ve seen a few of these stones before,” I quipped, my eyes fixed upon the glowing rune in the center. “But I’ve never seen one glow like this before.”

“Sidri-Ashak stones reveal their full power by Secunda’s light,” Ariella explained, “but no one really knows what they’re supposed to do. Most of the time they just grant weaponry and armor to travellers in need when touched, but judging by this, that isn’t their greatest extent.”

“Have you tried touching it when it was glowing?” I asked.

“Many times,” Ariella answered, brushing her hand along the stone. “But nothing ever happens then. You can sense its magical aura growing when the rune reveals itself, but no one has ever been able to figure out why.”

She leaned against the stone for emphasis. After a moment’s hesitation, I then mimicked her, feeling my hands brush against the coarse surface of the stone. It felt strangely hot, despite the chill of the air around me.

Out of nowhere, everything then went white.




----




“Well, Derelas, it seems you must find it rather difficult to return to our hall outside the arms of a woman, much less awake.”

I was back in the Anvil Chapter infirmary. Carahil was standing over me, a worried, yet stern frown etched through her lips, only allowing a tiny bit of her humor to escape.

“Well, I am quite the charmer these days.” I replied groggily, my eyes still adjusting to the light. “Women tend to follow me all over the place.”

“Ahh, so you do have a sense of humor buried down there somewhere,” Carahil replied, letting her small smile show. “I take it you managed to find some peace of mind, then?”

“I hope so,” I replied. “What happened?”

I tried to sit up, but was immediately greeted with a massive headache that forced me back down to the pillow. Clasping my forehead, I felt a wet cloth linen had been wrapped around it. The warm dampness helped soothe the pain as my head sank back into the feathery cushions.

“You collapsed when you touched the Runestone,” Carahil answered. “Ariella brought you back. We’ve kept you here for most of the night.”

Ariella chose that moment to enter. Despite how calmly she opened the door, I was able to easily watch as her face relaxed at the sight of me awake.

“Oh, by Mara, are you okay?” She asked without wasting a single moment. “When I saw you hit the ground, I…”

“I’m fine,” I cut into her brief pause, “just a migraine, nothing serious.”

“Nonetheless, it is best you remain here for a while,” Carahil briskly spoke while shutting the window curtains with a wave of her hand. Ariella made a point of rolling her eyes as the light faded. “At least until you’ve taken some potion. And best keep away from bright lights for now.”

“I’ll go ask Felen for some of that brew he makes for morning-after sickness,” Ariella added. “It might help.”

“It very much could,” Carahil replied, “and if you would be so kind as to collect some, I need a moment alone with Derelas right now.”

Ariella left immediately, closing the door behind her, leaving me to wonder just what it was that Carahil wished to discuss with me. By the slight glow in her honey-gold eyes, I was just able to make out that the ghost who possessed them yesterday had not been banished. Was that why? I would have preferred to give those memories some time to rest before discussing them again.

“I am quite glad to see Ariella brought you back more or less unharmed,” Carahil began. “No one has ever seen a Runestone react like that to another’s touch.”

“And I honestly had no clue that would happen,” I responded, trying to head off the softly scolding question I was sure Carahil had in store for me.

“Of course you didn’t,” Carahil replied, raising her eyebrows. “I never questioned your judgment, I was merely expressing that I’m glad to see you well; as any healer would when their patient awakens.”

Her response left me a bit deflated and feeling rather stupid with myself, but at least she understood my point of view, and perhaps shared it. I was at the same time thankful that she dutifully dodged around mentioning any questions she might have had that would cause me unease. It was not difficult to see how she had obtained her position of Magister of Restoration.

“Do you have any idea why it did react to my touch, then?” I asked; clapping my hand to my forehead as another wave of pain enveloped it.

“None whatsoever,” Carahil answered with a subtle shake of her head as she adjusted the towel I had nearly dislodged. “My skill lies in the healing arts, not the Arcana. You’d probably need to ask the scholars at the University about that.”

“If I ever get in, that is,” I mumbled dejectedly.

“I have no doubts that you will,” Carahil replied. “You have already proven yourself to four of our Magisters, myself included. You need only one more Recommendation to obtain full scholarship.”

“But where can I go?” I wondered aloud. Leyawiin was much too far away, a month’s journey at best; Kvatch was utterly devastated; and judging by how Tadrose and Faith reacted to traveling here by foot, Skingrad was out of the question. That left one option.

“Maybe Bruma?” I decided. It was not the best option at all, considering Oblivion was now right on their doorstep, but it was all I could think of.

Carahil frowned, “Considering the circumstances, Bruma is hardly ideal.” It appeared she shared my thoughts. “Why not Skingrad? It is much closer, and not under siege, for that matter.”

“I… I don’t really like Skingrad that much,” I replied. It wasn’t really a lie, considering how my two guardians reacted to the mention of passing it by; but neither was it the truth. But one way or the other, I did not want anything to do with that city right now.

“I can understand why you might think that,” Carahil spoke. “There does seem to be something not quite right about that place. Particularly the guild chapter, most people find it… a bit odd. Stranger people you will not find, those of Skingrad are one of a kind.”

I cocked my head at Carahil’s rhyme.

“An old saying,” she answered to my gesture. “Skingrad has always been an unusual city, and the Chapter maintained there is no exception.”

“What sort of unusual things go on there?” I inquired. Carahil seemed rather abashed of my asking, considering how her eyes quickly flitted away from me. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” I added quickly.

“No apologies necessary,” Carahil placidly replied, albeit carefully avoiding eye contact. “It’s simply… well, you’d best stay at an inn if you have business there.”

I had a feeling I had heard that before. Thankfully, Ariella chose that moment to return, carrying a small vial of bright pink liquid and a cup of tea.

“This is for the migrane,” she explained, lifting the vial slightly to indicate, “and this is to help wash down the taste.”

She gave a slight shudder as she finished, handing me the vial. I was not entirely expecting the taste to be too horrid as I lifted myself to a sitting position. But that notion quickly exited my mind when the potion reached my tongue. I only just managed to keep my bowels from following, though I did end up sputtering for quite some time.

When I had finally regained control of my stomach, I took the tea from Ariella’s hand and took a massive gulp to wash the potion away.

“That was absolutely disgusting,” I commented, handing the empty vial back to Ariella.

“It’s supposed to be that way,” she responded with a shrug, “the taste helps to clear your head when you’ve awakened after a big night at the tavern. Give it a couple minutes, and you should be back on your feet.”

“Thank you, Ariella,” Carahil spoke. “Now, if you would be so kind as to return to your assisting Alchemist Relas, I would greatly appreciate it.”

Ariella gave a quick wave to both of us as she left. Carahil then moved to the door, but turned to face me before she left.

“I must request you join her as soon as you feel able, Derelas,” she said. “Do not cloud your head about the Runestone or where you may wish to travel next for now; there are far more urgent matters that need tending to right here.”

“Is there really nothing I can do to figure that stone out, though?” I pressed.

“As I said, this chapter is ill-suited to look into what happened,” Carahil responded, an irritable tone crossing her voice. “And considering the state of things in Tamriel, it is also rather low on the priority list. You have been bequeathed a task, so I must insist you perform it. Worry about the Runestone later.”

She then left; emphasizing that was her final word. I looked down at my teacup, noting a small lemon slice floating in the liquid that was now half-drained. Heaving a sigh, I finished the sweet, brightly flavored tea and traced Carahil’s footsteps out of the room.

This post has been edited by Thomas Kaira: Oct 30 2011, 02:10 AM