The adventures of Arthago, My first fan fiction so be gentle Options

[Agent Griff]

So, just that you know, this is my first fan fiction ever. I have done backstories for my Oblivion characters before but this will be different. It will also be from a First Person perspective, something I'm experimenting with for the first time btw. So here we go:

In the year 400 of our curent era, in the stronghold of Vulnim gate located to the North-East of Sentinel, I was born. My mother was a humble peasant girl who barely reached the age of 18. My father was a knight in the Order of the Candle, a great man, who many looked up to. Some could say that I had an easy life up ahead, beeing the son of a noble warrior but I can firmly deny their claims. My father was a perfectionist, always was, always will be. He always wanted me to strive to do the best I could in all my affairs. I was forced to join the Knights of the Candle at a fragile age. I was trained and chiseled in a warrior with knowledge of etiquette and various other skills. I was mainly a fighter though, I never was much of a diplomat.

When I reached the age of 15 my father gifted me with a horse of my own. I called him Whisper because he was quite quick and very quiet for an animal of his size. He wasn't much of a war horse though and always craved for my love and care. I figured that if I ever went into battle on his back I should dismount first to meet my enemies. My life went on in the same way until I reached the age of 18 years old.

At my eighteenth birthday I was greeted with the news that my father was found dead somewhere to the east of Vulnim Gate. It was a great tragedy, my mother was devasted. She wasn't worried for the death of her husband as much as she was worried that she would loose her social standing. That terrified her so. She was always the ambitious sort that clinged to whatever inch of power she could. She realized that she was going to have to take a job after the death of my father. She didn't have a great many skills. She knew how to spend money very well but didn't know many ways of making it. She got married to my father before she could complete her studies. She could have been a merchant but she was forced to work at a tavern.

After a few years of working at the tavern she must have caught some ilness from a traveller. Whatever happened she died a few days after and I was left completely alone, with no one to help me anymore. I was going to have to decide what to do and that had to happen fast or else I would end up some beggar on the street, and I know that my father wouldn't want that.

This is the end of the first part of the story. I hope you liked it and I also hope that I will receive some feedback.

This post has been edited by Agent Griff: Mar 4 2006, 09:07 AM

[Agent Griff]

Thanks for the positive comment. I'm glad you like it! Here's the next part of the story. I hope you enjoy it as much as you enjoyed the last parts.


After waking up in the morning with a sore back again from that old bed, I decided to try on my new breastplate. The breastplate seemed like a big and cumbersome piece of armour to look at. It wasn't too well maintained either. Either Marshall Daron had taken the armour from the body of a fallen knight of the order, a fresh member like me or it was an old piece which was never worn by anyone. I didn't care much for the current state of the armour, I could pay an armorer to repair it and then it would be in pristine condition again. Condition problems aside, I put the armour on and it fited just like a glove! It was made of steel too, so if an oponent hit me with a hammer the blow could be spread out well whitout the armour beeing destroyed too much. After geting dressed and fiting my new armour on, I hung my sword scabbard onto my belt and set off to the great market to have the armour repaired.

Once on the street, everyone looked at my new armour with unparallel respect, something I had never received before. If I was looked at before as a lout with no experience, everyone could now see that I was a knight in the service of the order. I had passed a hard test to get admitted so no one could say that I entered the order whitout dificulty as some spoiled, noble brats often do. I enjoyed my respect untill I passed by the tavern in which Marshall Daron gave me my test in the first place. A woman, while exiting the tavern, took sight of me and started an argument. It seemed that she had sent her son to join the Knights of the Candle some time ago. He was treated just as I was and sent to acomplish a task. By the tone of the woman's voice it seemed that her son didn't do so well on his first mission as I did.
"You demon! You and your blasted kind! You heartless bastards, YOU sent my son to his death!" howled the woman.
"I'm a new member in the order, I didn't even know your son woman!" I said trying to calm her down.
"You sent him to his death! You sent him to that orc den, even though you knew that he was a youngling! May Clavicus Vile catch you soul and toy with it for eternity!" shouted the woman. She was turning this into a street show.
"You talk of the death of your son as if it's MY fault! What's my fault in this woman?" I said in an increasingly angry voice. I could understand the woman's feelings, but she was pushing her luck with me. I told her to leave me alone to my own problems, but she still didn't listen. It was all going Yadda, Yadda, Yadda, my son is dead, Yadda, Yadda, you killed him, Yadda untill it finally stoped.

I opened my eyes and saw the woman's face left expresionless. She started dripping blood from her mouth. I looked down and saw a sight that would leave me breathless. My sword was thrusted into her stomach, which was dripping blood like a stream. I then looked at her face again, trying to say that I'm sorry.
"Muurderer..." she whispered in her last dying breath. I then ran away, into the labyrinthian back alleys of Sentinel, trying to get away from the oddious crime I had commited. It was the first time I ever murdered someone. And I felt horrible about it. I vowed never to kill someone else in a fit of rage ever again, else I take my own life away.

After hiding a few hours in the back alleys, I re-emerged and imediately went to the local temple to pray for the soul of the woman I had just murdered. I also made donations to Arkay, so that he may see to it that that woman's soul receive safe passage to wherever it is that souls go. It seemed that beeing a knight, and showing it in public brought me more trouble than good. I decided after the murder that I would only carry my seal, and not the armour for it was a dead give-away that I was a knight.

~~~And with this I end this shorter part of Arthago's tale. I hope you liked it, and I am also expecting feedback from my 'fans' if you allow me to call you that. Thanks for all the feedback and suport given thus far!

This post has been edited by Agent Griff: Mar 5 2006, 05:33 PM