Knights of the Nine - New Kvatch, Attempt at fan-fic Options

[McBadgere]

When I started this fiction, sooo long ago now...Little did I know to what size it would sprawl...Not only in terms of Geography, but the sheer weight of characters and, most espescially, time...So, to help, there are links below to the characters and the timeline my fiction follows...Both of them will help immensely...

Please enjoy!...


Dramatis Personnae



KOTN Timeline


11/02/13
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Original post start


Hey there *Waves*...This is me trying some fan-fic...Having gone through many of your stories, and reading the writing help post I realise I'm going to not update as quickly as I'd hoped...But I am working on something, it's just taking longer than I expected...Like as if it started here and I expected to be like there by now but new characters keep wandering in and needing their own scenes and stuff...Swines!!...

Anyways, in total since about 20 years ago (ie since I left school) I've written maybe three stories, two of which were published in a local writing magazine though...Wha-hey!!...Aaamywho...I've not done much writing...I wish to do more...I've had this thing (A world btw...No I'm not...Y'know...Entirely wrong up there ) in my head for many years I need to get out, so writing Oblivion fan-fic is a start on that road...

Anyways, this is a set up for what's coming, a prequel of sorts that puts many things in place...Sort of a more pleasant info-dump if you will...

Please be gentle... ...

Oh, btw - Elipses...I know there are many...My stories don't have them as much, but my forum posts and probably, therefore, my thinking does...And as most of this is in her head...You get where I'm going...

Cheers...

Oh, and that bit at the end...If at first you don't get it...Persevere...It will make sense...


Sneak.


Oh no...Nonono...Not him. Not them. Son of a Daedroth. Why do they keep doing this? Everywhere I go one of them ruins it all. Damned Knights.

Damn.

Let me start somewhen else.

This is me – mottled, but mostly honey coloured fur with just the right amount of red in it. Just enough to make me just the right amount of bad.

My name is Ras’sheena, I’m a Khajiiti. You can tell by the ears. Oh, and my oh so winning and friendly smile.

Yes Khajiiti means I’m a girl. How can you not tell?. I know this Mithril isn’t that figure hugging but really.

Oh yes...And by the way, I’m very good at my job. Always.

Six years ago.

There’s me, I’m the one with the box on my shoulder. Unloading the ship moored at the Imperial City docks. Most of you will wonder what’s a nice girl like me doing working on the docks? Well, a girl’s got to eat hasn’t she?

We’ve got a nice crew going here. There’s me; (notice the wiggle?...Heh, Naughty you...) And that’s J’Drell the Argonian, he’s big; even for Lizards. (No offence by the way.) Tall, strong. Long limbed, but almost graceful. Fairly new to the docks, just moved here from Anvil he says. Good worker, always talking and laughing.

Over there admiring the view (of me?) is my Mr Right, (Or Mr Right-now at least...Heh, just kidding my Hearth-Kiit. You were always the one...) M’dssark. Beautiful black and grey stripes, muscular. Athletic.

Makes me purr even now.

*Sigh*...

Where was I?

Oh yes...Even the foreman – Gremmand – is good; for an Imperial that is. Short but built like a Dwarf of old - Knows how to work. Which is also good - for an Imperial. As long as we get the job done without breaking or stealing the cargo we can act as we please to make the day go by.

So one day, there we were, just doing our thing when M’dssark gets called over by a Nord. Not sure of his name but I’m sure I’d seen him before.

Then I remembered.

Sometimes when we’d been out at the inn, the Nord would be about and he’d exchange nods with ‘Sark, so I thought nothing of it as they walked off behind the docks wall. Gremmand frowned but I just smiled at him. (Heh, funny how my smiles always work.) Anyway, ‘Sark comes back worried. I went over to him but he just says “Later Mii-Kiit.” (Pet name...Sweet...)

I always remember turning around and catching J’Drell turning his head away.

I never thought, not once.

In bed later...Y’know...After...M’dssark tells me of The Blackwater Brigands.

He’d been working with them for a couple of months, keeping an eye on the best hauls. Feeding them names, dates, crew numbers; you know, stuff a decent Brigand needs.

Oh how much love I had for him at that moment, my very own Pirate! In training to be sure, but still.

Two weeks later he was dead.

They’d convinced him to help them rob The Bloated Float. The Inn that sets out to sea for an added thrill to the drinking - Apparently. Still, it’s berthed at the end of the waterfront.

’M’dssark had heard that damned Bosmer Ormil talking about some treasure on board and let the Blackwater lot know.

*Sigh*...

Little did we know that there would be unexpected company.

’Sark had kissed me goodbye with promise of so much gold on top of the decent lot we already had saved. Enough that we could move away. Maybe to Elsweyr.

Five of them there were against the skeleton crew of the Float. Despite what they would have you believe, it takes more than the two of them to run the damned thing. Anyway, one thing Little-Chief-of-Brigands, Selene, didn’t count on was that damned Argonian.

J’Drell finished them all off - Even my Hearth-Kiit. I know he wouldn’t have made it easy...Good...Damned Lizard.

But still...

Damned Damn...

*Sigh*...

I paced up and down the docks awaiting the triumphant return of King M’dssark, Lord of all Pirates!!. And what I got was J’Drell staring at me as he came up the gangplank.

Oh, the blood on his armour...

He signalled the waiting Legio to take me.

Oh, how I ran.

Seems he was Legio Investigato all along.

Interrogator.

Spy.

Snaffashk more like...No, you don’t want me to translate it.

Damn...



-------------------------------------------------------



Five years ago.

Skingrad.

Oh the irony of the name.

The West Weald Inn isn’t just wall to wall drinking - “We’ve every type of drink available in Tamriel.” (said the banner in the Courier). Oh no. Some of us were hired as hostess girls. We were...Of use.

Well, a girl’s got to eat hasn’t she?

Tall, athletic, apparently a “Pretty-Kitty” so you would all say.

Oh, did I mention I’m very good at my job?...Always...

So there I am...Um, working...When one of my regulars – a Bosmer called Maglir – comes back from a job for his Fighters Guild shaking like a leaf. “I’m not going back there” he wailed. Later, having calmed him down, I asked what had happened. He told me of a cave full of Zombies.

The idea makes me shudder even now...So wrong...Anyway, he said it was just too much for him. Not worth losing his life to do a stupid job like that.

A week or so later into my life walks another giant, this one in almost full Ebony armour; except for the Dwarven helmet - You notice that sort of thing - Anyhow, Maglir told me later he was a Nord called Farn. When this Farn had returned a few hours later with the journal that had been Maglir’s original contract, and offered him the chance to take it in himself, Maglir had told him to do whatever he wanted. “I’ve a wife and kids to think about” he’d said. Later, I’d asked him about that. “No, I haven’t a wife. It always gets the good guys going though.” He’d said, ”Heh...Still, I’ve been thinking about it lately...Do you want to get married?...To me perhaps?”

Oh Oblivion...

I’d said yes - We got married.

We took the money that I’d re-made the...Um...Hard way, and bought a cabin in Bravil. Not the prettiest but it was ours.

Maglir, after a few months of dull grind with the Fighters Guild got a better offer. More money, better weapons.Safer he’d said. The Blackwood Company they called themselves.The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end when he said the name. I explained about M’dssark and the Blackwater, but he’d said I was being silly. ”Nothing to worry about”.

I saw that Nord walking through Bravil one day as I was going to my work in the castle (Maglir had mentioned my natural talents.)

No, not them.

The scouting ones we’d been honing...Um...

Anyways, the Bravil Guard (Yes I know...a girl’s got to eat though.) they needed help in the forest, and had asked me to help that morning.

Farn had looked at me through that helmet. I couldn’t see his eyes, but I knew he was looking at me. I almost ran.

A month later Maglir was called to Blackwater headquarters in Leyawiin. He’d told me to wait for him in Bravil as he wouldn’t be long. But the Guard, they’d asked me to help track a troop of Goblins headed towards Leyawiin - We got them - So I found myself in Leyawiin. I’d asked at an Inn for directions.

I was walking along the street.

It was the noise that got to me.

Heavy, thick, reinforced doors splitting, disintegrating, then crashing into the road. My brilliant, wonderful, funny and happy Maglir. His broken body pinned to what was left of the doors by an Ebony Claymore. Gods only know how hard that had been thrown.

And then, out of the shadows walks Farn.

He looks about at the stunned spectators, daring them to say something...Anything...Oh Gods why couldn’t the Guard do something?

Then...

And then he looks down the road, right at me. He raised his hand and I ran so fast.

I’ve never seen where – or if - my Maglir was buried.

Kynraeth bless him...

Even though I’ve been back there, I’ve never been able to find out from anyone.

Poor Maglir...

I even left the little shack in Bravil...Couldn’t face staying there anymore.

Damned Farn...Damned Nords...

Damn...

So then the “truth” comes out in the Courier about how Blackwood have been using mind-altering drugs (sooo different from using magic to help you fight, of course...) to help them fight and it caused them to do horrible, disgraceful things.

Well, maybe they did kill an entire village to get at some goblins; But still, not my Maglir, surely?.

Oh, and then they make Farn head of the Fighters Guild?

No. Justice. Ever.



---------------------------------------------------------------



So a short while later, the world goes to ruin. The Emperor betrayed by his Dragon Guard. The desperate and doomed flight underground. Oblivion gates all over Tamriel. No-one dared travel for so many weeks. Not with all the Deadra everywhere.

Suddenly out of all the horror came the saviours of everything. We’d all heard the rumours, The Knights of the Nine had returned!!

It sounded so...Amazing.

Truly...

But slowly and surely, they were everywhere. Around the country gates were closed by knights, clad in white tabards, with a red diamond on the chest.

Or something like.

Out of nowhere, one name was suddenly everywhere - Robert McWylde, Commander of the Knights.

Finding a lost heir to the Empire; Closing gates; Thwarting a cult.

A saving the Count of Cheydinhal’s son here, one running into a Gate alone and saving Bruma from a Siege-Engine there.

Damned Mr Perfect...

He’d even gone one-on-one with the Daedric Prince himself...And lived...

Just four of the Knights had gone to the Imperial City with the heir. How quickly would it have ended with more?

Ah, they’re not all Gods...Just...Most of them.

At the end of it all they’d named McWylde Champion of Cyrodill. At the ceremony he’d been all gracious and named all the knights that had helped, saying that they too were deserving of being named Champions as were all the Imperial Legionnaires and City Guardsmen that had sacrificed so much, but sadly he didn’t know their names.

Chancellor Ocato had simply joked “We can’t make enough suits for you all”.

McWylde had accepted the suit, but chose to put it on display at the Priory of the Nine in tribute to everyone rather than abandon his Crusader armour.

Oh and then he got married and the world went crazy...Again...Damned Courier.

Rumour has it that McWylde was Legio Elitarii. The Emperor’s Own they called them; Under the command of no-one but the Emperor (hence the name I suspect.)

Not just the best of the best, but better than that even.

Bet that stung Marick Gellert.

Another rumour is that Gellert was prevented from joining by the Emperor himself for some reason.

Still, Gellert got promoted to Imperial Commander and the Legion’s vaunted Dragon Company got formed out of it all. And while everyone was marvelling at their exploits and grandstanding, the Elitarii were always quietly and efficiently doing their job.

Well...That’s the rumour anyway...

For some reason the Emperor turned McWylde loose to go find the Crusader armour - We’ll probably never know why.

Maybe things were worse than we all thought...Anyhow, the rest is history...

Aren’t biographies great? I hardly ever read them myself.

The First Edition in Imperial City has many good ones...So I’ve been told...

Damn...

Damned damn...



-----------------------------------------------------------------------



Anyway, from then on the Knights of the Nine grew, until they had a Chapter in every city. And then they get their own city.

The Elder Council and all the city rulers and dignitaries - in their mighty wisdom - gave them an old ruined city to rebuild.

New Kvatch it’s called.

Catchy name...Guess where the site of that was?...

Took them ages to clear the ruins and re-do.

Nice job they did too...I must admit...



----------------------------------------------------------------



As for me...

I drifted from city to city, job to job - Always very good at them though. I had an incident with a despicable, horrible man in Skingrad (again, guess where I worked...Very good...) called Glarthir which led to some odd man called Lucien coming into my room to offer me a job - Well, a girl’s got to eat hasn’t she? - So off I run to an Inn of Ill Omen...(A little on the nose, but who am I to question?)...I kill some strange little man who I have no idea about; then I meet up with the Lucien who tells me of a house to go to in Cheydinhal.

When I get there, I discover that it’s all going on downstairs.

No, I mean...Nevermind...

Through a portal in the cellar, expecting some sort of greet, what do I find? - Everyone’s dead. Except for a little Wood-Elf, in a Knights cuirass. ”Hello,” he says, “I’m afraid they’re closed for business.” He narrowed his eyes “Best run along...Now.”

I ran...

Lucien turned up dead in Skingrad - Thrown out of a window into the street. Not getting up with his neck bent that way...Or that axe in his head.

Bosmer lady Knight this time.

I ran...

*Sigh*



---------------------------------------------------------------------------



Two years ago...

By now I was living in Anvil, helping out on the docks. Not as much fun as before but – you know – A girl has got to eat.

One day a man called Jayred Grice turns up at my door. A handsome older man, (so far as I’m a judge), whitening hair, intelligent eyes, Fantastic smile. Spoke with a drawl, like honey.

He was an ex-Dragon Company officer that had, with a “silent partner”, just started a new honest mercenary company called - Wait for it - The Dragon Company.

They were trying to reclaim his and his Company’s honour he’d said. Amongst those he’d recruited were a couple of ex-Bravil Guardsmen who had told him of me and my astounding scouting abilities - See, very good. Anyhow, he’s been trying to get his company off the ground; try to take some of the work that the Fighters Guild and even the Knights have been flooded with since the Crisis.

It was not going well.

Too much bad feeling attached to the name it seems; even if it had been proved that not all the Dragon Company had had anything to do with betraying the Emperor.

The Investigato had proved Jayred and some of his co-horts innocent.

But Grice was not for changing it, said he would succeed even if it killed him.

”Besides,” he’d said, smiling, “It’d cost too much to change the armour.”

A dragon - shockingly - rendered as if flying to the left but its tail curled around to form the outside of the G.

Very clever I must say.

Sign of a man with too much time on his hands maybe.

But I digress...

After a few months it was obvious that it wasn’t working and Grice was sullen, which was an mood I’d never thought to see on that man.

To try and help him up I...Offered myself to him.

My most figure hugging dress...You know how it goes...

”Bless you ‘Sheena,” he’d said smiling – finally! ”You do flatter an old soldier...But we can’t.”

My heart sank.

”Oh no...” He added, seeing the look on my face, “Nono; I think you’re beautiful...I really am flattered. But for one I am still your boss, and for another...My...Partner doesn’t hold with...” Jayred paused, wincing “with other...Species...

“I’m so sorry ‘Sheena...”

I saw apology, regret and shame in his eyes, and I believed his apology, absolutely.

To try and diffuse the...Tension...He started to tell of something he’d been thinking about.

“I’ve been thinking of moving the business...Elsewhere.” He’d looked me straight in the eye before he said, ”Elsweyr...”

Oh how my heart had leapt!!

Grice was basically planning a Fighters Guild style group but in Elsweyr.

”Seems it might work better there,” he said, “as they don’t seem to care who we were...”

I was to be in charge of the teams!!

Grice was coming too but I was his...Liaison?...Strange word, but basically I was to be the one that looked after the troops, report back to Jayred, and all the while still handling the big jobs that needed my help.

I was to be a busy-Kitty again!

We got rich!

We made so much money even the lowest ranks were well-off. Who’d have thought that a country with such tension would need such help.

But who am I to complain...

Grice would hold feasts for the troops to celebrate.

Usually, after the drink had flowed, he’d tell us all stories of the Glory Days of the old Dragon Company and Marrick Gellert.

One night I remember with a shudder was when one young boy (Damain, his name was) asks with total innocence,

“Was there anything that Gellert was actually afraid of?”

A jeering and laughing clamour had erupted around the tables. But Grice had smiled genuine warmth towards the boy.

“Yes son, he was afraid of only two things in his life...” He’d paused, ”Robert McWylde and Farn Olfsson. If you ever get on the wrong side of either of them...Run...Just run...”

He then told us the story of when on patrol, Gellert, himself and two more had managed to let themselves get ambushed by Ogres - The crowd had laughed.

”Yes I know, not the stealthiest of creatures, but there you go. So here we are, fighting for our lives against the damned things, and even that Dragon-hammer’s hardly denting them.

"All of a sudden one of them falls flat on their face...Well, with a warhorse landing on their head you’d think it wouldn’t have a choice.

"Farn..."Grice paused and looked those closest to the front in the eyes, "Looking at him I couldn’t decide which to be more scared of - Him or the Ogres.” Grice smiled; more laughing, “He took it all in in a second, jumped off his horse – which promptly took on another Ogre itself – ripped the hammer from Marrick’s hands and hurled it at the nearest Ogre.The hammer took its head off. I think the two that were left after the horse’d trampled the one he’d been hammering must’ve realised what was coming and tried to escape." Grice shook his head at the memory, "Anyone ever heard an Ogre scream?..I don’t think many have...

”Once it was all over Gellert had tried to thank Farn for his help. The Nord had simply stared at him, got on his horse and left. Marrick was ill for a couple of weeks following that. We covered for him, but the three of us who’d been with him thought we understood what had happened - Gellert wasn’t as all powerful as he’d believed himself...Seen quite how human he actually was...

"Mind you against Farn I think anyone’d doubt himself...So yes, Gellert was afraid of something...”

“What about McWylde?” Damain had asked.

Jayred smiled and simply said - “Next time...”



------------------------------------------------------------------------



A month ago...

We found the damned things in a cave outside Corinthe.

The cave had seemed unremarkable, but someone had pulled the entrance down leaving just the hole in the mountain to say it had been there.

Farian, our Battlemage had been sure there was something inside, so we took the time to clear and prop and boslter.

Wish we’d not bothered.

As soon as we get inside, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Three of these things are in there. They made straight for Farian. He’d tried to defend himself but the first one got to him; And then the world went mad again.

The creature had simply put his giant hands either side of Farian’s head. The mage had screamed briefly, then just stopped.

Then out of his mouth came words, but not his...Sounded so strange...

“Nnn...No...No Hurt...Feed...Please...Alone...Long...”

“What do you need?” I’d asked terrified of the answer.

Well, then the damned thing’s mouth opens up and a ball of light comes out.

Next thing there a boar standing in the middle of the room - So I guess it eats boar, not people - We fed them, they let Farian go, and we go back to base with the promise to return having sealed the cave up.

Back there we tell Grice of the monsters.

Damain turns out to be a bookworm and does some research.

Couple of days later he comes back with an answer, ”Could it be these?” he’d asked, pointing to a pict in the book.

Oh Oblivion...I won’t say the name...

Even the name scares me...

But they’re so old...I thought they were all gone...

“We need them,” says Grice, suddenly vicious, ”My partner will want one too...Hope they don’t get separation stress...”

“We need to ask them first...” I’d said...”I don’t think we’d be able to make them do anything.”

Damain coughed, “It says here that to deal with...” He’d gestured to mean the whole world “Everyone else...they always need...The One...To be the focus...Which I think means what they did to Farian...I think...He has to be a mage...”

Damn.

Damned Damn...

Prisoners.

Grice was actually more vicious than I’d thought.

We’d raided a fort nearby a few days ago and taken a few of the Conjurors alive. He’d given them all a choice - help us, or be turned over to the tribes for punishment. Most chose to help, but we only needed the three.

So the “lucky” few were put on a cart and taken to the cave.

I couldn’t watch.

When it was all over, Grice – who’d come with us – Talked to the creatures.

“Why were you in here?”

“People...Feared...Pull...Down...Wrong...No Hurt...”

“Will you help us? We know what you can do.”

“Do Not...No Hurt...Yes Can Help...No Hurt...”

Grice had paused, admiring the creatures; possibly wondering how to phrase the next part, “We need to send one of you away...Somewhere far...Can we do that?”

“All Places One...We All Places Together...Far...Near...All One...We Hear...Yes...Send...”

And just like that, we had three ancient, presumed extinct creatures working with us.

Jayred had sent a message back to Cyrodill, telling of the prize.

A couple of weeks later the message returned that the “Partner” was as excited as Grice and that transport should start straight away.

Guess who was given that job?

Oh yes...Me...The curse of being very good I suppose.

I was given the location to head for with instructions to meet the local party near Anvil.

Oh it was going to be strange going back there after so long, but it was only for a short while.

“Two things,” Grice had said to me before a couple of days before I’d left, “Leave the uniform behind...No, I didn’t mean that...” He’d smiled,” I mean you can’t have anything linking to us if...Anything happened...Gods forbid...Oh, and the other thing...My partner’s people may not be so...Courteous towards you...Just ignore them...Ignorant fools...”

He’d given me a kiss on the cheek and after that didn’t see him before I left.



----------------------------------------------------------------



Now...

Damn.

Damned Damn...

We’re here.

Fort Freedom.

We avoided everyone and everything getting here, and what do we find when we get to the gates off the road?

Nothing.

No-one.

The local Captain that met us was worried as there should be at least a couple of guards here.

He’d suggested so politely that myself and a couple of the other scouts go ahead to check around the fort to see what could have gone wrong.

Well I’ll tell you what went wrong...

Damnable Knights, that’s what.

Why in Oblivion are they here?

Who is this damned partner?

I found their horses in the woods around the side of the fort, guarded by a Dunmer and one of those damned Wraiths they can call.

I couldn’t get close to the Dunmer without alerting the Wraith, so I headed for the fort itself.

Damn...

The ever feted J’Drell.

Judging by the amount of horses, there’s more inside...

What is he doing?...

Why is he moving like that?...

I’ve seen stealthier Mudcrabs...

What the?...

What’s that?...

I think they’ve found one of the others...

Damn...

I must get back to the rest...What?...Aaaah!...

Oh, no!!...

Damn...

Damn damn!!...

Gods not like this...

Not here...

I stand up from an oh so pretty body...With a dagger through its neck...we were once an I, a person...Now we don’t remember her name...Now we don‘t remember I...The Great Pride calls us...We are all the Great Pride...The Greatest One calls me to run...

I run...

This post has been edited by McBadgere: Sep 17 2013, 01:40 PM

[McBadgere]

NEW PARTS!!!... ...

Merry Christmas!!...

Right, I'm trying to crack on with it...But then this happened...One chapter, in three parts...And they're all long-ish...

Sorry... ...


Previously on KOTNNK...Aeirawen was part of the force attacking Fort Freedom, but then she and the other wood-elf Galasafon were attempting to bring the evil boo-hiss baddie Marrick Gellert back to New Kvatch...


1.10 – Aeirawen...(pt. 1)



The last woman and the last man on Nirn pulled their cloacks tighter against the fierce wind. After a time, they looked at the last of the Old Gods and waved farewell. The woman opened a portal, then she and the man walked out of the world.

The world was unmade.

The world was made.

The portal opened again and the first woman and first man on Nirn walked through into a verdant forest. They looked at each other, shrugged and disrobed. Then they made love, as they had many times down the ages.

As he woke later, the man stood up, picked a fruit and said simply to the now awake woman, “Apple?”. Then he looked behind her and paled. There stood the first of the New Gods, attended by his ever present two Angels.



- Taken from The Book of The World. Author unknown.





Aeirawen burst into the clearing with three horsemen bearing down on her. She pulled up sharply, which caused one of the horses to rear and throw her rider. Unfortunately not the Khajiit that had been tracking her this whole time. Aeira crossed the distance to the downed man and planted the head of the Dragon Hammer she was still carrying into his. Turning and flitting into the centre of the clearing, she waited for the two others to gather themselves. She grinned briefly at them, even as she panted her fatigue away. Damn, she was tired. How long had she been running? She had no idea, but it was a damned long time. Speed augmentation was all well and good for a short while, but over long distances? It was still down to your own fitness levels - you still had to run dammit! Aeirawen laughed the thought of the portly Keern Ralman trying this.

The two bandits looked briefly at each other, as if wondering that the idea of a lone Bosmer knight in the centre of a clearing being quite so confident was actually occurring to them both.

They charged.

Aeira waited till they were fully committed, then she narrowed her white glowing eyes, smiled her most feral grin and launched herself into the speed augment. Raising her arms as time appeared slowed down, she swung the hammer with one hand into the chest of one, killing him instantly. Her left arm grabbed the other bandit’s sword arm as it fell. The rider twisted around in the saddle, his shoulder broke and almost sheared off, his ankle didn’t fare so well as it became twisted in his stirrup. His neck snapped the instant he hit the ground, so any pain was truly short lived. The horses carried on out of the clearing, as if they wanted nothing more to do with anything bar grazing.

Aeirawen fell to her knees with fatigue. This was getting too much now. How many more were there? She couldn’t keep this up all the way to Kvatch. If she was even headed towards Kvatch by now. The Bosmer pushed herself up to stand, brushed her blonde hair back out of her face, and went to the nearest tree. She leant against it and looked up at the sun, then at the nearby trees.

“Right, that’s north.” Aeira figured that she’d been headed generally northeast all this time. If I head north at least I’ll get to the Colovian Highway, she thought to herself and prepared to run again. Just then she heard another set of hoof-beats. Sighing but casting - for yet another time – her ease fatigue spell, she ran once more to the centre of the clearing, but kept the hammer’s head resting on the floor.

A huge white Anvillian destrier burst into the sunlit circle of the bloodied woodland glade.

“Two?!” She almost wept with joy. “I thought I’d told you all to head for Kvatch.” She reached the horse and hugged his neck. The horse replied by putting his head down on her shoulder as if hugging her back. “Still, being with J’Drell for so long I suppose you would pick up a stubborn streak.” She grinned.

It wasn’t her beloved Dail, but if anything, J’Drell’s horse, Two, was probably better when it came down to it. The Anvillian horse’s endurance was legendary, and she had no idea how long was still to go. She grabbed the saddle’s horn with one hand and hauled herself on Two’s back.

Aeira silently thanked Brellin for the strength augments in her white Elven Plate heavy-armour. She put her hand to the red diamond on her chest-piece and prayed her thanks to Kynareth for delivering her this fortunate rescue.

She looked back the way she’d run. Finding Galas would be next to impossible with all the Bandits, Marauders and what have you in there. That goes for the Fort too really. Her only course then would be to head back to New Kvatch with the Dragon Hammer and tell the Commander what had happened.

She sighed deeply with frustration.

She securely tied the Dragon Hammer to the saddle, so as it wouldn’t bang against Two’s side as he ran.

Then she rode.

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Earlier...



“Damn.” Said Galasafon.

“What?” Aeirawen asked.

“Umm...Ewythr. He’s...Umm...Tall...”

She sighed, stopped tying all the other horses’ reins up to their saddles and came over to Kelleryn’s black horse. Bending down, Aeira cupped her hands and boosted Galas onto the saddle. She moved aside as he levitated the still prone form of Marrick Gellert onto the horse in front of him.

“This isn’t going to be comfortable for any of us old boy.” Galas patted the horse on his shoulder.

Aeirawen knew that Galas wasn’t a natural horseman. He could do when needed, but he preferred running.

“You going to be alright?” she looked up to him.

He looked about, smirked then shrugged, “I have a choice?” Then he grinned genuinely. “When has it ever been easy in this job?”

She laughed.

There was the slightest hint of wrong feeling and she ducked, just as an arrow passed in the space where her head had been. She screamed in Elvish, using her Command Beast spell, “Two, Jasper get them to Kvatch. NOW!”

------------------------------------------

J’Drell and Thedret’s horses being the most experienced of them, and possessed of truly amazing amount of intelligence whinnied and stamped their feet as the other horses started fleeing the incoming horde. The pair of Anvillians chased them down, herded them up into a line then headed dead northeast. A couple of the knights’ horses had crossbow bolts in their hinds, but nothing that would slow them unduly.

By way of horse signal, Two left them to Jasper’s care and stopped.

He turned and headed back the way he’d run.

The space the horses had recently left was deserted. Several men were on the floor, dead or dying. Two twisted his ears this way and that and located separate chases. He looked at the ground, sighed and followed that one.

It was not long before he caught up with the back of the pack. He nudged the nearest one towards a tree, it reared and fell backwards onto its rider. As sorry as he felt for doing it, several more horses went into trees headfirst.

Just then a scent caught him. He turned and ran a new direction, following some horses that had peeled off.

The chase. Nothing like it. He ran.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------



Much earlier...



Aeirawen mopped the blood from the corner of her mouth and followed the Imperial outside, “I’m from Anvil you inbred son of a mule lover.”

“That’s Captain inbred son of a mule lover.” Said the man picking himself up off the floor and brushing from his armour, the wooden debris of the door he’d so recently destroyed with his passing through it.

“Well, Captain,” she said through clenched teeth, “the nearest I’ve ever been to Valenwood is being shown Falinesti in a ‘scope from a hill above Anvil.

Just because your Emperor decided to open up your Legion to every native born Cyrodiillian, don’t be surprised when you wind up with any kriffing native of Cyrodiil.”

“Mind your language soldier, I am your superior.” Said the Captain.

“Hah! Oh, I’m sorry sir,” she said snarling the word out, “I have yet to hit the Hold. It’s sometimes difficult to restrain myself. Besides, I’m amazed you could be superior to anything that doesn’t live in the ground.”

She heard the distinctive scrape of metal on scabbard behind her, and turned sideways where she could, if needed, defend both sides. Just then she heard a voice.

“Ah, ah...It’s not polite to stab young ladies in the back.”

Aeirawen watched as the would-be assassin came out of the Hammered Ogre Inn with the point of an ebony sword at the base of his skull. Following him was a pretty young woman with copper-blonde hair.

“Ah, Captain Olford,” said the original Captain, the one that had been making a nuisance of himself towards Aeira all afternoon, and in the end, accused her of being a Bosmeri spy.

As if. Tall, blonde, blue-eyed, not exactly graceful and with little talent for Illusion, she doubted that invisibility would be in her repertoire any time soon. So no, spy was not high on her list of things to do. Hitting people and things very hard with axes and maybe setting them on fire, yes. Spy, no.

“Go pick on someone your own size Derment,” the soldier called Olford said, “but that would mean finding a scamp to bully wouldn’t it?”

Derment shot Olford a murderous look, but drew himself up imperiously, turned on his heel and marched towards the Legion quarter of Bruma, followed by his three armsmen.

Olford crossed to Aeirawen and asked, “You okay?”

Aeira wiped her mouth again, “Yes Captain, Ma’am, thank you.”

Olford tilted her head, smiled and held out her hand. “We’re off-duty soldier. Caroline Olford.”

Aeira shook the hand and then suddenly remembered, “Olford?! As in...”

“Yes,” Caroline rolled her green eyes, then affected a mock-aristocratic voice, “General Kenth Olford, hero of blah blah et-cetera.”

Aeira smiled. “You don’t think much of his reputation?”

“I have all the love in the world for my Daddy...But...” She shook her head, “Ach, we’ve only just met. There’ll be time enough for all that...Hopefully.”

Just then the owner of The Hammered Ogre came out and started complaining about his door and the cold and a million other things.

Caroline sighed and shook her head. “He’s an old friend of my Dad’s. Time to be the General’s daughter again. I’ll take care of this, you go clean yourself up and don’t worry, I’ll go see your commander and square all this too.”

“Umm...Why would you do all this? Like you said, we’ve only just met.”

Caroline tilted her head again and drew her eyebrows together in an almost frown, “I think...Mara told me to.” She gestured vaguely up, “either that or it’s just the right thing to do.” She shrugged, “When you’re off-duty tomorrow, come find me here, we’ll go to my house and talk some more. You good with that?”

Aeira smiled, nodded and shook Caroline’s hand again. “Thank you.”

Caroline shrugged, smiled and indicated the still remonstrating innkeeper.

Aeira watched her go and was surprised at her own feeling of joy at the sudden turn in events. It felt like finding another sister in the unlikeliest of places. She shrugged and made her way back to the barracks.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Now...



Aeirawen was riding north, or as best as. She’s passed out of the thickest of the forest and was headed out into the farming communities that ran alongside one of the many rivers that started in the distant Colovian Highlands and made their meandering way down through County Kvatch to the estuary at Anvil.

Several riders burst out of the trees behind her. The Khajiit being the one in front.

“Well, naturally.” She sighed.

Aeira urged Two on faster, and he responded with a surprising burst of extra pace. At least they’re not gaining she thought.

Minutes passed without incident, but always, the pursuit was there.

Looking ahead she could see a road, and in the distance she could see a block-train, coming from one of the mountains at the end of the Colovian chain that was being dismantled for the rebuilding of Kvatch.

Thanking Kynareth that she was going to be off the farmland soon, Aeirawen realised she’d have to tell the Commander about the damage. The Knights of The Nine may own these farms in order to feed the soldiery and, indeed, many of the workers, but that doesn’t mean they can ignore any damage wrought on them by a Knight.

She reached the road and raced along it. Two seemed to be pleased at the firmer footing and responded to it. With joy it seemed. Aeira felt as if she was about to cry and indeed her eyes had watered, but she let one hand off the reins, wiped her eyes, then used the free hand to pour Respite into Two as best as she could.

“Not far, Two. Not far now.”

Two offered no opinion, but put his head down and charged.


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This post has been edited by McBadgere: Dec 24 2011, 11:08 PM