Trouble never comes alone Options

[jack cloudy]

Yes, so I just couldn't resist and had to get this off my chest. We'll see how long it lasts. Same deal as with redemption, I'll be using this post as a character list and the first part will be in the next one. For now the list is simple.

A question. Should I add a separate entry for Spar at the very bottom that is basically the extra-spoilers edition?

Spar: A female Imperial and the main character of this story. Is guided by 'Them'.
(Portrait)

Silent Fist: A Companion Spar hires to escort her into Bleak Falls Barrow. He doesn't speak, wear shirts or use weapons. Click here for portrait

Faendal: A wood elf who lives in a small village known as Riverwood. He works as a hunter and lumberjack.

Lucan Valerius: The shopkeeper of Riverwood.

Jarl Balgruuf: The Jarl of Whiterun, a city located in the center of Skyrim between the fronts of the Imperial and Stormcloak factions.

Hrongar: Jarl Balgruuf's brother. Looks like he walked off the set of a Conan-film.

Irileth: A Dunmer who serves as Jarl Balgruuf's bodyguard.

Proventus Avenicci: Jarl Balgruuf's steward.


Vilkas: One of the Companions, a mercenary group in Whiterun
Vignar Grey-Mane: Formerly of the Companions, now retired.

Ulfric Stormcloak: The rebel leader in Skyrim, once on of the Emperor's generals.

Arkarik: Someone Spar was supposed to meet in Cyrodiil.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Aug 1 2013, 06:34 PM

[jack cloudy]

Thanks for the kind words, everyone.


Spar is going to quote Shinji some more. As far as I'm aware his 'passed on by the survivor's' quote is the only thing we actually have on him. So I'm taking the liberty to make things up and hopefully I won't have her say anything stupid.

And DE, I just wanted to mention that I am reading Kraven part 2. I'm still in the early prologue sequence where he's gambling his life away. Quite literally I feel, considering the background mentions from part 1. The stupid baiting of his is making me surprisingly tense even though I know how it's going to end.

Faendal does kind of dissapear I admit. I wanted someone to panic over facing undead and it ended up being him. As for why she didn't give a witty one-liner before leaving, it just didn't seem like something she would do. Waste of breath.


Today's update is an action scene. And assuming I don't run off the rails of my plan, most of what's left of this chapter will be an action scene.



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Chapter 1.11


The response was as instant as lighting a candle. Blue fire burst from the eyeslits of its mask and it screamed. The scroll was one that created a sanctuary. Its effect destabilized the magic essence that made an undead move and had been the trusted ally of vigilants and tombrobbers since time immemorial. Under normal conditions, the dimwitted corpses would avoid the sanctuary and give the person standing inside the circle all the time in the world for coming up with a plan of evasion or confrontation.


Given how I had gotten the drop on the zombie however, I'd opted to turn the idea inside out by placing the zombie inside the circle. In theory, the unlife from all but the strongest undead would be ripped to shreds from this position. But that theory proved false as the spasming corpse kept shrieking.


Them began to talk to me, counting the seconds as they went and rejudging the flailing corpse in the sarcophagus.


"Hanged man's disgrace...detoriated zombie...zombie....lesser bonewalker...greater bonewalker..." I looked at the crumbling scroll with increasing worry. Just how much power could that thing still have? Them's list had run beyond the types most adventurer's could handle with a little preparation and they were now pulling at my mind, trying to take control.
"Not yet." I whispered. I clutched the stone to my chest, absently noting that it was too light to be solid. Fist had his fists raised and stood in front of me, but even he seemed unnerved by the ancient hero. I didn't know how far his knowledge on magic went, though I estimated it at near-zero given his affiliation with the Companions, but he clearly realized that it wasn't supposed to fight the scroll so hard.
"Revenant...lich" It vanished and what remained of the scroll fell to the bottom of the coffin. I let go.




Fist and I put our backs together and move towards the wall to restrict the enemy's movements. The scroll fell after its disappearance which suggests it teleported rather than becoming invisible. It hasn't gone far however, not without the cube it is meant to protect. I strain my ears for the sounds of footsteps, anything, but the rumbling of the nearby river makes it hard to make out anything. Then Fist grunts and I look over his shoulder to see the lich at the edge of the podium. It doesn't stand however, but floats just above the stone, the tattered fringe of its robe brushing against it. I notice that its feet are rotten away which gives it no choice but to employ levitation. That is both good and bad. Good because it will tie up some of its magic potential, bad because it provides full vertical motion as well as horizontal.


We watch as it draws the two curving knives from the relief. They are the same colour as the ones on the stone carving, dark yellowish stained with brown, but don't seem to cast fire.
"Faas Bahi." It says and floats closer. Fist and I turn to face him, then move apart in a textbook flanking manoeuvre. I hope that the lich will focus on the Breton first as the greater threat, but it seems to prefer removing the weaker link first as it follows me. Fist finishes the flanking but before he can rush in from behind, the undead puts on a burst of speed and closes the distance with me. Its knives stab at me, I narrowly avoid them by hopping back. I give more ground and try to move to the side. The wall now threatens to restrict my movement.


I don't make it. My backpack grinds against the carved words and I'm pinned. Fist is running but still too far to help. Again the knives cut at me. Parry one, shove it aside, dodge the other. Again it strikes. Again I try to parry, not just with the sword again, but also with the cubic rock. The lich stops and stares, its knife only a hair's width from the stone block. The mask towers over me, impassive but for the blue fire that comes from its eyes.


Fist finally comes close and skidding to a halt, he wraps his arms around the creature's neck and twists and pulls. It screams and sweeps behind it, managing to sink one knife into the man's arm. I hack at the hand that holds it, smash the fingers with my sword. Then I duck out and away from the wall into the open. Its eyes follow me, it strains its neck against the Companion's grip to face me. And it shouts.
"Fus...ROO!"


A sudden storm bashes me away like a leaf, flying back and up and spinning madly. The sword and cube both leave my hands and I twist and kick with a foot to stop the worst of the rotation. Then I reach the top of my arc and start to descent towards the podium again. Tumble, land on hands and push, exchange vertical motion with horizontal. Now toes touch stone, shift ankles to bring more of my feet in contact, bend the knees to absorb the impact. It's not enough, my legs are struck out from beneath me and I tuck into a roll. Up and over, up and over. Where is the edge?


The podium vanishes beneath me and I fling out my arms to catch the ledge. My shoulder protests as it brings me to a sudden halt but I have no time to listen to it. The backpack is pulling me down. I put my feet against the wall and shove my center of mass as high up as I can to stave off the inevitable. Fist seems to have the lich occupied which gives me time to deal with my conundrum. Down or up? I know the podium's height and can take the fall. But the rocks around it are sharp and covered in darkness. It's too dangerous. With going down ruled out as an option, I recount everything I have in the backpack and assess it as expendable. I release one arm to grab the sole important object and undo the clasps. The sudden loss of a heavy weight dragging me down helps as I cling to the slick stone and push and drag myself back up.


My right arm has definitely been dislocated this time, which makes the climb harder. I manage though and once back atop the podium I push the bone back into its socket. For the rest of the engagement I plan to use that arm as little as possible but I need it ready just in case. Fist is still struggling with the lich. He has torn of its mask and revealed the dessicated face, but in return the man is bleeding from a few more wounds to his arms. I raise the scroll and open the knot that seals it with my thumb. Does the lich know modern language? Doubtful, considering its age.
"Fist, drop!" I shout. The breton abruptly releases the undead and dashes away. In the same moment, I throw the scroll and invoke its powers.
"Be devouring flame."


Paper becomes racing fire, splattering across the lich and eating at its robes.
"Liss!" It shrieks and fire is doused in billowing steam. It glares at me as I seek what to do next. I have no weapon, no more scrolls and no idea where my sword ended. Fighting it barehanded would be suicide, fighting it at all would be suicide. It hovers towards me rapidly, its one remaining knife held high. Jump down, hope I land safely? I inch closer to the edge while the lich approaches. It's almost within range. I prepare to drop as the knife rises further when without warning, it turns away.


I see a blood-covered Fist standing near the round wall. He is holding the cube. With his free hand he beckons the lich closer. It takes the bait and Fist fills his lungs as he prepares himself. For what? To fight or run? I rush for the stairs. The Companion can't take on the undead and I have no more methods of helping. I know what is coming. The Breton has trapped himself by the wall and the lich is aware of his prowess at close combat. Aware enough to not run the slight risk. Why should it, when it can call down a storm to break him against the stone?

It opens its mouth to shout.


"Fus...Roo" "DAAAH!"


I drop down on the stairs as the wave runs over me. A shadow flies by, torn and scattered by the cutting air.
I hear its pieces fall into the darkness below. I descent and look around, warily of the air magic. When I find its head I pick it up, making sure to keep it aimed away from me, and toss it into the river. "Dov!" The lich curses me as it vanishes downstream, battered against rocks and submerged in whirlpools.


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Them fell silent and I realized I was still alive. I shouldn't be. There was no reason Fist and I could have defeated a lich, and no way we could have outrun it. But we had. I heard what sounded like a far off roar, but attributed it to oversensitive nerves. I had to sit down. My heart was still racing and I was suddenly aware of all the pain my body was in. Mostly my right arm, but also my ankles, my knees and a bleeding cut across the back of my swordhand. I catalogued the various aches, found nothing that would critically impair my movements, though I had to bind the cut.


The fight kept playing through my mind and my thoughts kept hooking onto details I hadn't noticed in the moment.
"The lich spoke an old language. Almost Daedric. Fus-ro it said. Fus, I remember that word. It was General Stormcloak's battlecry." The me from the Great War had never thought of it as more than just that. The Thalmor and their slaves would falter upon hearing that cry. I'd thought it was due to the General's reputation, that it was fear that took them off-guard. We'd all begun using that cry. Often it worked, sometimes it didn't. But now I felt a pattern. The times it didn't work, Ulfric Stormcloak wasn't there. And even when it did without him, it was never as effective as when it came from the Nord's own throat.
"It was a form of magic. And we all believed him when he denied it."


Fist put his hand on my shoulder, incidentally soaking my furs with his blood. I nearly leapt up, away from him. He knew the cube was more important than anything else in the tomb. If he wanted to keep it, I couldn't stop him. But should I? Vignar held great influence over the Companions and he was as anti-Imperial as they came. But there was more to it than that. He disliked the Empire because it wasn't against the Thalmor. And there had to be more avenues for Farengar to pursue. If Fist wished to keep the cube, I'd let him. It would be relatively safe with the Companions. Safer than with Farengar probably so at least the Thalmor wouldn't be able to profit from it.


He dropped the stone on my lap in silence, then pulled the knife out of his harm and dropped it on top of the cube.
"He doesn't care?" I thought, surprised by it. I picked up the knife, turned it over in my hand and tucked it behind my belt. It appeared to be carved from a single piece of bone, a tooth perhaps.
"I should treat your wounds. Please wait here." I told the Breton who shrugged as he sat down himself. I left the cube on the stairs and went around the podium to grab my backpack. The potions had been packed in wool to keep them from breaking, so I was quite certain they were fine. But should I use the restoratives, or feed him the musclekiller and make off with the cube? Them urged for the musclekiller but I wasn't sure.
"He could have died to save me. Why would he if he wants betrayal? And I might still need him." I argued back at Them. And there was one other thing that had me puzzled.
"General Stormcloak, the Lich and now Silent Fist. They all used the cry of storms. Ulfric was the weakest, Fist the strongest. What connects them and what makes the difference in power?"

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OOC: Originally I'd planned for Faendal to save the day and distract the lich at a critical moment. But then I realized I'd made him necrophobic and it didn't make sense anymore for him to go all the way through Draugr-country alone. Sure, the Draugr were dealt with at this point, but he doesn't know what.

I was also a bit worried about having Spar and Fist fight something as high-level as a lich. (different name in-game, but I'm witholding that for those who haven't played Skyrim. Spoilers and all that.) The reason I chose to let them though was because I wanted to get the importance of Farengar's little cube across properly.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Sep 7 2013, 05:19 PM