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."

[treydog]

This is beyond epic fiction- your vision of the story, the way you weave history and lore into the telling, all of it is amazing. I am stunned by the breadth of imagination and creativity shown here.

[ShraX]

This is beyond epic fiction- your vision of the story, the way you weave history and lore into the telling, all of it is amazing.  I am stunned by the breadth of imagination and creativity shown here.

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Gaenor's will grew with each passing day, and his soul darkened. He was aware of his lost personality, and knew not why he was unable to regain it and revert to his old self. It was as if he thought of an old friend, someone he could never again see or speak with. Gaenor was slain in Skyrim, and from the gash in his back spawned something.. different. He knew not who he was, what he was, or why he was. Fate had consumed him; the fate the Elder Scrolls had written for him. There was no changing the past, no changing the future. Things were moving too quickly. What were The Elder Scrolls, and why had they such a hold on his destiny? Who gave them the right?

"The signs along the road have been few, but it seems Goldstone Ridge is to the southwest of here," said Naztheril with a tired sigh. Gaenor didn't think he was tired at all, since beneath his humanoid skin was The Beast - a creature that had battled for five of his lifetimes without rest - and all they had done was walked for almost a day. That was the only time one of them spoke since asking for directions the day before. The elf's mind was forcibely clear, and Naztheril simply had nothing to say until then. He knew Gaenor was struggling, and knew he could not comprehend how much, as old as he was.

The bright afternoon sun reflected its yellow light off each clean blade of grass across the rolling green hills of Cyrodiil. It was spring, and the bright purple and yellow flowers native to the land were in full bloom at the base of every tree and around each grey rock. Their fragrance travelled for miles with the soft wind, and brought with it the buzzing and chirping of exotic insects and birds from all over Tamriel. The sky was as an ocean, the clouds drifting carelessly through and passing before the rays of warmth, allowing for short moments of shade. Far in the distance the plateau upon which the castle stood was still within sight, lording proudly over the nation in all its glory. As far as anyone knew, the city remained the center of the world, and Emperor Uriel Septim was about to sit at his banquet table for lunch.

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"Killed." he repeated.

"Yes, sire. I hath sensed his demise not half a day ago while at my hideaway. It seems Gaenor..." but Iranon was cut off by the booming crackle of Garonar's voice, eminating from the statuette.
"Save your words. He dispatches the Nerevarine and now Knight Henar. Does this frighten you?"
"My liege, I laugh in the face of fear."
"I detect desperation within you, Iranon. This Bosmer defeats your puppet and you look to me for guidance. You and I have been associates for centuries and have waved off such heroes as insects. Tell me. What causes your plight?"

Iranon clenched tightly the collar of his robe and began breathing through his mouth in a pant for air. His skin was dry and cracked, and his hands quivered. "I shall be honest, sire. My blood boils at the victories of our foe, but alas, he slew Knight Olkair Henar with but one fell stroke of my Blade. Forsake me not when I say this, but how could one wielding both the Fire and the Light be beaten?"
The flaming avatar of Garonar was emotionless, but the red fire engulfing the skull that represented him grew steadily. "And forsake you I never will, Iranon. Your question is just. I am no blind tyrant, but an all-seeing master of darkness. He has revealed his weakness to me on more than one occasion."
"Master," Iranon replied anxiously, "sharest with me and I shalst orchestrate his death!"

"Valenwood. Burn it down."

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