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]

They both entered through the wooden doorway, first the tall man, then cautiously followed by Gaenor. He kept looking back outside into the freezing cold, then forward to the warm mead hall, with the quest off his mind for the moment and concentrating on how he was seeing what he saw. "I assure you," said the man, "each and every one of your questions will be answered." He took a seat in the corner and pushed a stool out for the elf. "Believe me when I say I am a friend, but I cannot tell you my name. I have not been sent here but come of my own will." The Bosmer was still looking around the room in wonder. "Perhaps I should explain Snowfold first.

"Almost ten years ago this place was as you see it now; filled with happy Nords, food and drink, warmth, and joy. The hall was led by Hroskmir Stonetooth," he motioned to the throne at the back wall, "who you can see there. He earned his leadership by performing a great feat of strength, as would be assumed. His task was to slay Jkoryl, a fearsome demon who had plagued the countryside of southeastern Skyrim for a two centuries. He sought after the menace for many a year, and finally returned with its head. The beast claimed his arm, though it was a small price to pay for insuring the safety of his land, and for the high seat of the Snowfold."

"That's a wonderful story," said Gaenor, "but you haven't told me how this place can exist!" The man waved his large hand for drinks, and one of the Nords brought a tankard for each of them. "Yes, that. You see, this place does not exist. In fact, the ale that was just brought to us is nothing but air. The explanation for this is quite simple and relates to your quest, Gaenor. Henar can do things you knew not about." Hearing his name again, the elf moved in closer and leaned his elbows to his knees in suspense. "Shortly after Hroskmir's ascension to the throne," he continued calmly, holding the mug of mead with his enveloping hands, "Olkair Henar came up from Cyrodiil in search of your Blade. Of course it wasn't yours then, for Nels Llendo had stolen it and was, at that time, robbing a food cart in Morrowind.

"He ravaged this hall, ripping apart these fine people limb from limb," he said as he motioned his arm across the hall, "They say the very flames of rage within his heart burned the place down, and the fire did not cease, even in this weather, for days." Gaenor looked down at his mead in disgust at what he had heard, and it fed his hatred for both Iranon and Henar. "However, that was not enough. As you undoubtedly know, Olkair Henar was once a Bosmer such as yourself. You must also be aware of the Forest's Essence, something which all Bosmer carry deep in their souls. The love of the trees, flowers, and the Great Forest that covers this world makes it up, and allows your people to commune with nature in ways of which other races can only dream.

"Upon Henar's gripping of the Blade of Cinders in Argonia, his essence was lost, replaced with that of darkness. This power was unleashed upon Snowfold, destroying yet imprisoning it, trapped forevermore between the realms of the living and dead. Jkoryl's head being subject to this force had born itself anew, and to this day roams Skyrim as it did before." A drunken Nord overheard the man's last sentence and replied loudly, "Jkoryl's dead! HAIL HROSKMIR!!" The hall thundered in cheer and laughter, then returned to conversation. The stranger put down his drink and stood, the top of his hat almost touching the ceiling. "My friend, your quest is dire, but with Jkoryl on the loose, your enemies matter not. When innocent lives are at the mercy of a creature revived by one such as Knight Henar there is no time for anything else save preparation for death. Take this," he said as he removed a package from under his coat. "Go now, and become that which the Goddess claimed you will be!"

With that, Gaenor grabbed the package and rushed out the door into the cold afternoon. He knew his role as hero would be fulfilled, and with the anger over what Iranon and Henar had done, he would not allow it anymore. "The time for cowardly wood elves has ended, the time for heroes has come," said the tall stranger behind him. He sat back down and drank, muttering to himself between sips. "May fire and light be on your side, my friend. We will meet again." He finished the rest and left the mead hall, vanishing into the snowy chaos of Skyrim toward Cyrodiil.

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