Gaenor: Reloaded Options

[ShraX]

I posted this on the official TES forums, and although it's not finished, I'll continue updating both here and there.

If you haven't read the other two stories I've written, one of them is in the Fan Fiction section of this site, and you can PM me for the other. There really is not much needed to know when reading this one, except who the already well-known characters such as Gaenor and Almalexia are.

Enjoy--

The Nerevarine lay a lifeless corpse upon the Mournhold Temple steps. His blood trickled out of the slashed openings in his neck, limbs and torso, and down each stair, leaving its stains as it went before collecting into a shapeless pool on the tiled courtyard floor. The High Ordinators were still, their armored masks hiding the looks of terror on their faces as they stared at their defeated savior. The Temple doors were now wide open, and Almalexia hovered at the entrance. Her Hands were nowhere in sight.

"My champion," she said softly in disbelief, her golden face emotionless. "Who is responsible for this?" She spoke quietly but the entire city heard her. A Hand emerged from the darkness of the Temple and removed his helmet., engraved with the Daedric runes for S and V. "Our guards watched the battle," he explained in his low, rumbling voice. "They dared not aid your Nerevar for fear of death by his murderer - the Bosmer, Gaenor." The Demigoddess floated down the stairs, over the the corpse of the Nerevarine and turned back to the Temple. "Salas, this wood elf has gotten his revenge, but Terenius' life is nowhere close to Nerevar's in worth. Remain here and clean this mess. I will find young Gaenor and speak with him." Her Hand bowed and ordered the two Ordinators, still in a stupor, to dispose of the Nerevarine's body, as well as those of the four slain Hands within the Temple. Almalexia's wrath was unbridalled, and vengeance consumed her. Her fury at the news of Nerevar's death manifested physically, killing all but her favored Hand, Salas Volar, in an explosion of goldy flames.

She flew from her place in the Temple courtyard high above the city and into the clouds which concealed the late afternoon sun's light. The moons were now more than halfway over the mountainous horizon and brought their stars with them. With a gesture of her wrist the dense clouds parted in two and the light of the lowering sun lit the city aglow. She closed her eyes and began searching for her prey. However, this was unnecessary. Almalexia expected this mortal to flee into hiding from her might, but he welcomed it. He was sitting on a bench in the Bazaar, doodling shapes in the dirt with his sword.

His armor was sundered, dented and sliced through. One pauldron was missing as well as both gauntlets and parts of his greaves. It wasn't clear to tell from his ebony armor, but he was covered in blood from head to toe. He leaned his blade on the bench and removed his helmet, then placed it over the hilt. It was hot and sweat was dripping from his forehead to his beard. He put both hands to his face and wiped it, and ran his fingers through his stiff hair. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes, waiting with open arms for death's embrace.

Almalexia dove towards him like a starving hawk upon a field mouse, disintegrating the clouds with the aura of flame around her. This mortal wood elf defeated her martyr in combat and had the audacity to sit on a park bench in plain sight! Masser and Secunda were rising in unnatural quickness and the sun was already out of sight. The furious demigoddess did not realize in her blind rage, but Gaenor tore away from his hands and looked up past her to see it: both moons took position directly above him, Secunda in front. As they slowed to a stop everything around him turned pitch black, aside from the raging Almalexia, now halted in mid-air, as well as both moons.

The elf slowly stood and faced his enemy in partial confusion. After his ordeal he truly cared not what his fate was. 'An eye for an eye,' was his logic. 'She took Terenius and I take the Nerevarine.. but this is very strange. perhaps this witch's debt is still not repaid.' He walked past her toward the moons, which were glowing and pulsating with light, as if to communicate.

"Much has happened this day. We must speak."

[ShraX]

This is the last entry which was already written. I've been posting them much more quickly than I normally would if I hadn't already finished them, so the rest will come every one or two days :goodjob:

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

"Gaenor you say? Apologies sir, but no one by that name's been to the Shalk recently. Good day!"

The cloaked figure snarled at the barkeep and left in haste. The patrons of the Black Shalk Cornerclub in Vivec watched him as he closed the door behind him, not able to see anything but his heavy, dark-colored robe and repitilian tail. He walked quickly in an awkward way, down the canton and out into the Ascadian Isles. The lampposts along Vivec Road lit brightly the traveler's way and the glistening plants and tree-leaves on either side.

He turned at a fork to a hidden clearing where a rectangular runestone stood, glowing red with intricately-carved Daedric markings. He spoke lowly the entrance phrase, "Gion toh grelac siev," loosely translating into, "Darkness, grant me passage." The stone shifted and slid back, revealing the narrow, dim-lit stairway below. The figure grasped a torch from the wall and the stone covered the moon's light with a hollow, abbrasive *clank*, which echoed as he advanced down the ancient steps.

He continued on for some time when at last the way was ended by a large, golden altar. Candles of think, black wax adorned the floor before it, as well as the short shelves behind. An idol of a winged, sharp-fanged demon stood in its' center, a sword in each hand and held up high above its horned head. The traveler kneeled down with respect, as well as slight fear, and asked, "Is my Lord ready for his servants' news? 'Tis of his search for Gaenor." The statues' open mouth let out a jet of gray smoke, engulfing it and the altar on which is rested until taking the shape of a mangled skull, its fiery essence illuminating the place with a red glow. It looked hideous even to his servant, and he averted his eyes in silent disgust.

"Iranon. What news?" he boomed in question.

"I have travelled far, from southern Argonia, to seek out Gaenor and my Blade." He paused but his master kept silent. His physical form ruined, he was bound to the altar, never to be freed. "Indeed," he continued, "I first discovered his ownership of the Blade two days ago upon defeating Nels Llendo, a Dunmer thief of no importance. Olkair brought me this information and I immediately left for Vvardenfell to seek it out."

"Why did not Olkair dispatch the elf then?"

"You see, my Lord," he went on, filling with terror after each word the skull spoke, "Olkair may not kill by day's light. My skill at puppetry is nowhere near your mastery, and 'twas all I could to do control him." He lowered his head further, "Upon his summoning back to my lair, I brought his news swiftly to ye." "Yes," the skull bellowed, "You are a faithful servant, and still ever eager to carry out my will. Stay hidden and speak with no one. Send Olkair to Mournhold to.. question the public. Leave me."

Iranon stood and bowed elaborately, then took up the torch again and started back up the steps. He stopped and turned back to the altar, but his master was gone. 'Gaenor, why didst thou slay my master with the Blade?' he thought. He sighed heavily and continued up to the surface. "No matter," he said to himself, "My Blade is no hero's toy. It shall be returned to its rightful owner and be set loose upon Tamriel once more." The runestone slid shut and he was gone.

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