A Question of Fate Options

[ThatSkyrimGuy]

Brief Intro By The Author

A Question of Fate would be the title of my piece.

I have been back and forth about trying to start and post a fan fic piece. The idea has always intrigued me, but I never considered myself to be a writer, let alone a good writer. I have read a sampling of some of the works that are posted on this site, and quite frankly, it is intimidating. The material is amazing. I must say say that despite the intimidation, it is also inspiring. So I am willing to throw caution to the wind and go for it. There are a few provisos. I work for a living. Often times, the hours I work are long. There may be periods of dormancy in this thread. I will apologize in advance for that. Life outside the internet does have it's restrictions. Also, I am sure that there is an unspoken etiquette that states, "You read mine and comment, and I shall do the same". This is also where I could run into trouble, for the same reasons that there may be dormant periods in this thread. There are stories on this site that I could never hope to read all the way through, with triple digit page counts, while I try to keep posting my own story and work through everyday life. So, with all that being said, I will wait to start posting chapters until I get a sense of what the audience demands. Please let me know if I should start posting a fan fic piece, based on what you have just read.

Thanks.

EDIT - This was originally posted in "General Discussion"

This post has been edited by ThatSkyrimGuy: May 4 2013, 04:41 AM

[ThatSkyrimGuy]

First things first...A Happy Independence Day to all my fellow Americans, and a fine Saturday to everyone else!

@ Acadian - @ the David Banner reference! Think how well that would apply if Val was an Orc!

@ mALX - Inspector Valrimor is on the case! "Move along...nothing to see here...move along..."

@ Darkness Eternal - You're all caught up now! Me thinks I should have been clearer about Val recovering his bow before he moved on...oops...

@ SubRosa - I see Teresa is not the only one with anger management issues. -- I haven't come across that in my reading yet, but I'll take your word for it.
*****
@ Everyone - Thank you all so much for the kind comments. As always, it means a lot to me. On to the next installment...
*****
Previously - After fighting his way through a tower, a blizzard, and the bandit base camp inside the barrow, Valrimor had decided to get some rest before continuing his quest for the claw…rest that was shortened by a harrowing dream…

Chapter 14 – Encountering Arvel

21st Last Seed, 4E201 – Continued

I awoke not knowing how long I had slept, with the nightmare still fresh in my head. It was the same recurring dream that I had experienced over and over, ever since being a child. The details varied a little from time to time, but the message was always the same, and always terrifying. The hair on my arms was still bristling from the imagery.

“Your inevitable fate, our fate, the fate of all” the beast had said. Is fate truly drawing me toward an inevitable destiny like some sort of mystic lodestone? I had always considered dragons to be the stuff of my nightmares, until Helgen…

I shook my head to get rid of these thoughts and looked around. There was no longer light coming in through the holes in the ceiling, so I guessed that it was likely dusk or later. I looked at the empty wine bottle next to the bedroll with a frown, disappointed that it couldn’t prevent a nightmare. With a sigh, I decided I better get moving. I rose and gathered my belongings, then looked with trepidation at the opening that led deeper into the barrow.

Gods, I hate this…

The passage was narrow, but not excessively so, and started sloping downward immediately. I shook off a momentary bout with claustrophobia and followed the tunnel. Strategically placed braziers allowed just enough light to not trip on the vines and roots that claimed much of the floor. Occasionally I would come across what looked like tombs made of black stone with small urns on top of them. Not wanting to leave any leaf unturned, I checked each vessel for the claw. Finding the artifact that easily would be far too much to hope for, but I had to be sure.

As the passage made a left turn, I quickly halted and crouched when I saw a man with a torch traversing the same route as I was. He was entering a chamber a short distance ahead of me. I remained in the shadows and watched him as he examined the room. After a moment, he approached a lever in front of a closed iron portcullis. When he pulled on it, I heard hissing sounds, followed by the dull thuds of impact. The man groaned and fell. I waited for what I thought to be a prudent amount of time before approaching the prostrate figure. When I reached him, I discovered the cause of his fall. Protruding from several locations on his body were small wooden pegs with rudimentary fletching, the back halves of darts that had spelled his demise. Looking up above the gate, I discerned several holes that must have been the source of the projectiles.

So…don’t pull the lever….yet…

A quick search of the lifeless dart target garnered a few Septims and some lock picks to add to my stock. Examining the room, I noticed three small pylons of stone. Each was on a slightly raised circular dais. There were stylized animal symbols inlaid on the faces of the stones. Two had eagles and one had a whale. There were also images of animals on the wall high above the gate, etched in bas relief on what looked like stone tablets. One of these had fallen to the floor, but was basically intact. Two of them had snakes and a third had the same whale as on one of the pylons. I walked over and examined the three miniature monoliths more closely. When I reached out to touch one, I discovered that it would spin easily on its dais, and that when I spun it, another side had the same snake as one of the etched tablets.

Could it be that simple?

I rotated all of the stones so that there were two snakes and a whale facing outward. Nothing happened. I looked over at the dead man and the lever. The conclusion I reached was inevitable.

You know you have to try it…

I walked over to the lever, took a deep breath and prepared to dive at the first hiss of an airborne dart. When I pulled it, the gate shot upward, granting access to the chamber beyond. With a sigh of relief, I looked down at the dart riddled corpse and said, “Brains before brawn, my good man,” and walked through the gateway. Just past the raised portcullis, there was a chest that yielded another fruitless search for the claw, but it provided more loot to add to my collection. To the left, a spiraling staircase led downward. A sound, not unlike a dog scratching at a door to get in, came up from below. I doubted there were any pets in here, so I readied an arrow before starting down. About halfway, I met the would-be pets as several skeevers bounded up the stairs toward their deaths. I harvested the tails and continued onward.

The stairwell ended at the entrance to a fairly large room. Cobwebs festooned every corner and surface. Dust covered benches and shelves dotted the perimeter of the room and a large table was featured at its center. There was a dark green ceramic vial on the table labeled, “A Touch of Stillness”.

Perfume?

I uncorked the vial and waved my hand over the top to get a whiff of the contents. The unmistakable odor of canis root and briar heart told me this was no perfume. It was a paralysis poison, although a weak one. With a smirk of approval, I added it to my pack and then noticed a scroll that was also on the table. When I picked it up, I glimpsed a stylized eye stamped into the wax seal. I dropped the rolled parchment as though it had burned me.

The Mage’s Guild? That organization has been dissolved for at least two hundred years…

Though I loathed the prospect of carrying anything to do with Magicka, I realized that something this old must be worth some hefty coin. Gingerly, I retrieved the scroll and placed in my pack, and then set my attention back to the task at hand. As I proceeded onward, I heard a voice coming from up ahead.

“Is…Is someone coming? Is that you, Harknir? Bjorn? Soling?” the voice inquired.

I nocked an arrow and continued. Perhaps the voice was referring to the two thieves I had dispatched and the third that became a dartboard. I noticed that some all too familiar instances of web work were becoming distinguishable from the random cobwebs. As I wound my way through the tunnel, the voice spoke again.

“I know I ran ahead with the claw, but I need help.”

Hearing a reference to the claw spurred me forward until I reached an opening that was completely walled off by spider silk. The voice pleaded for help from the chamber beyond. I searched for another entrance to the chamber, but found none. Sighing with frustration, I thought over what would be the best way to proceed. Undoubtedly, there would be at least one spider in the next room. I dosed an arrow with the paralysis poison and nocked it, holding the shaft to the riser with my left hand. With my right, I drew my dagger and began cutting away the webbing that blocked the opening.

I had no sooner finished and stepped into the chamber beyond when an immense spider dropped from the ceiling about a dozen paces away from me. The disembodied voice screamed with terror and panic. I tossed the dagger, and then drew the bowstring back and shot. The spider instantly froze in mid stride and before the effects of the poison wore off, I had pumped three more arrows into its face. It never moved again. The voice shifted from panic to gratitude.

“Oh Gods, thank you!” it said, “Now get me down!”

I looked in the direction of the voice and discerned a wiggling mass entangled in the webbing. The chamber itself was fairly large, its walls coated with intricate silk patterns designed to keep the weaver fed. I walked over to the giant arachnid and milked its fangs into the now empty vial of paralysis poison for future use.

“Don’t leave me here, for Arkay’s sake!” begged the voice, “Help me!”

“Shut up!” I barked back at him.

Looking around the chamber, I noticed several bundles of spider silk that were not wriggling and complaining as much as the one at the other side of the room. Some were skeevers; others were human, or at least human-ish. I recovered my dagger and harvested the tails from the sticky rodent corpses. I couldn’t bring myself to search the desiccated human forms.

“Get me down…GET ME DOWN!” demanded the whining voice from the other side of the room.

“Oh, for the love of Mara, SHUT…UP!” I yelled with growing irritation.

I also noted that there were several spider egg sacs scattered about the chamber. The eggs were an ingredient of one of my favorite potions, and fairly expensive when purchased at an alchemy shop. When combined with elves ear or juniper berries, it made an elixir I called “Sure Shot” that fortifies a marksman’s abilities. I harvested as many spider eggs as I could find. Finally, I walked toward the plaintive voice of what would have joined the dried up bundles on the floor, had I not intervened. The whiner was a Dunmer of average build, still wiggling and trying to get free of his binds. I paused a moment to consider his predicament, and how I could use it to my advantage.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Arvel Nalwyn, Arvel the Swift to my associates. Now get me down before something else comes!” the elf replied.

“You are Arvel the Stuck, right now. You’re also kind of demanding for someone that needs my help,” I pointed out to the Dunmer, “and not to mention that were whining like a child just a few moments ago. Let’s talk about this claw a bit first.”

“Yes, yes…the claw. I know how it works. The claw…the markings…the door to the Hall of Stories…I know how it all fits together. If you help me down, I’ll show you. You won’t believe the power that the Nords have left here!”

“You have it then?” I asked.

“Have what?” Arvel replied.

“The Golden Claw, you idiot!”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Arvel assured me.

“Then give it to me first,” I demanded.

“Give what to you?”

“The blessed claw, you exasperating fetcher!” I raged.

“Now how do you propose I do that while I am all trussed up like this, hmmm?”

He had a point. Of course, I could have just slit the Dunmer’s throat while he was defenseless like this and taken the claw. But I have never been prone to murder, except in defense from a known enemy. If he charged me after I cut him down, that would be different. I took a moment to think on how to best be prepared for Arvel’s actions once he was free. Of course, this delay brought forth another round of complaints from the Dunmer, fueling my ire. I tried to cut him loose in such a way that he would be off balance when he was finally free of the webbing. This proved fruitless, as Arvel performed a feat of acrobatics that assured he would land feet first.

“You fool!” the Dunmer said as soon as his feet hit the floor, “Why should I share the treasure with anyone?”

And with that, Arvel turned and gave a superb example of why he had his nickname.

*****

EDIT - Nit picked.

This post has been edited by ThatSkyrimGuy: Jul 24 2013, 01:13 AM