The Balance: The Neutral Spider, From the Office of Laegus Hawkherd Options

[Red]

Well, this is the starting of my new, hopefully longer living Fan Fiction. This is a very rough draft, AKA only edited and re-edited about 7 times. I know, I'm such a prefectionis. Anyways, this is an odd little gem that I have been kicking around for a while, and the name will soon mean something. Also, please reply with any comments and critiques, nagative or positive. And now, I'm off, and the story is starting. *Dissapears in a cloud of smoke*



CHAPTER ONE: The Trigger

The one question people love to ask me the most is definitely how. How I could just stroll in and out of a murder scene without any thought at all. How I could have evaded the law for so long even though I was so social. How I could possibly fit the accusations against me, and how the crimes could even be possible. I always answer these questions the same way, the cold stare they expect to see.

Lets back up a few years though, so you can understand me the way not many people can. I am Ordras Morvayn, surprisingly good-looking blacksmith living in Cyrodiil. The whole twisted, downward spiral I have been living in as of late started like most stories haven’t. Not with me angry, or happy, or doing anything interesting at all. My ash skinned hide was fast asleep on my soft, comfy bed. I wasn’t dreaming (though I wish I was because it would make this a little more interesting), nor was I looking into a black abyss for hours like normal. It was fast asleep, as in when you fall asleep and feel like you’ve napped for ten seconds. I woke up suddenly, though not groggy, not in pain, not covered in blood, but awake at least. Looking around my large, cluttered room; I noticed how early it was, as the candle I had lit earlier was still aflame. I walked through my room door, past the door of my currently travelling co-worker and past the door where my boss slept before he could afford a real house. After walking a few steps more and jumping down the stairs, all two of them, I was in the smithing room. Here, is where our story bursts from a dull cocoon and spreads the wings of an interesting plot twist.

A tall figure, at least a head taller then me, stood in the smithing room above a body. He wore loose, black leather pants with belts wrapped around various places. A dark cloak over a barely visible shirt ensured I had no guess to his weight, though he looked like he was quite lean from the little of him I could see, and he wore a Netch leather helm painted black. He looked like he killed Hitmen in his spare time. I looked at him, a monstrous looking killer clad in black, and he looked at me, an easy target Dark Elf clad in baggy underwear. He laughed a long, hardy laugh and reached into the pack on his back. I froze. He revealed something, but not a weapon. He threw a shirt and a pair of pants at me. I looked at him hard, and then the dead body of an Altmer he stood above. No one I worked with, my strange Nordic boss thought my co-worker and I were more than enough to do all the smith work his clients required. “Now” the stranger said with a booming voice, pointing at the clothes. I put them on quickly, nearly putting my head through an armhole. I can honestly say I have never felt a material so soft. Funny the things you notice while in shock fearing you might die.

The stranger blindfolded me, but he did it with care and believe you me, that wasn’t expected. He led me a few steps and then picked me up, which was probably awkward for I was pretty tall myself, and placed me in what seemed to be a cart. I heard the braying, naying and bustling of horses and then his dark, booming voice once again. “Close your eyes and your mind, Dark Elf, and fall asleep like you had been earlier” He was definitly a Dark Elf and before I could even think of something to say, I blurted out a blind sentence. “Are you violent?” I barely knew what I meant I was so sleepy and confused, but he did. He took a deep, calming breath before speaking. “No, and you can think of me as a friend as soon as you wake” he said it calmly and in a way only a good friend would, and sounded like he was smiling. What a gentleman.

This post has been edited by Red: Feb 27 2006, 04:10 AM

[Red]

Ok everybody, I havn't updated in a week or so (get off my back, I have a life you know ) but don't think for a second I havn't been working. Editing, writting, push-ups, squats, medicine balls, bench pressing, weight-lifting, cardio-vascular excersises, kayaking, I was really trying to complete some chapters. Anyways, I have written a new chapter that does nothing except disrupt the flow of the story. Its really poorly written and you'll probably stop reading after three sentences, as it is covered with spelling mistakes and characters who seem thrown in at the last minute. Or atleast thats my thoughts on what a rough draft is . Bon appetite.

When I opened the door, a beautifully decorated hallway was revealed to me. It was decorated with potted plants and paintings that were more than art, and a window on either side of the wide hallway. “Good” I thought to myself, “maybe I won’t have to talk myself out of this terrible, terrible mess”. I started walking towards the window to my right, and then sped up. I kept going a little faster with each step until running was the only higher level. I got to the end, about 5 feet away from the window, where two hallways intersect. I noticed the weather outside. Snow covered the ground and tall, cluttered Pine Trees grew seemingly everywhere. Ortei couldn’t possibly have rode a cart all the way to here from where I lived. I put my arm out to reach the handle as I got closer, when a stranger’s voice ruined my escape. “Massera, you weren’t planning on opening a window were you? Its freezing outside” A Khajiit no doubt. I turned and examined her. She was short, skinny and dressed in what appeared to be a maid’s outfit. “Uh, no, I was just checking if someone had fixed the handle, for it was loose yesterday” I lied, but for my own good. Questions I wanted to ask ran through my mind, but I doubted they would tell a maid anything I wanted to know. “Lunch is almost ready sera, you should join us” she had a sweet, sincere voice that made me certain she wasn’t in on this. “What are we having?” I asked, and was answered promptly. “Sheep steak with a side of imported scuttle to be mashed. We will also be having comberry jam as an early dessert” she smiled and walked off, and I knew she had convinced me. I walked around the hallways for a few minutes, trying to find the dining hall, but seemed to find everything but it. The bathrooms, the cooking area, the training room, the armoury, even the storage locker were found before I heard the distinct sound of a large group of people talking and eating. I readied myself to go in, for I wasn’t about to give up a free, delicious meal.

I rehearsed the lines I was sure would have them accept me for lunch, and took a deep breath. I opened the door slowly, and was hit with my worst fear. No one was paying attention to me. “This isn’t how the plan was to work” I thought, standing frozen and dumbfounded. Everyone was just sitting around the table, eating the appetizers already set out. I decided to speak, but my mouth closed shut the second I opened it. “Oh Azura please get me out of this one” I thought, which was useless. Few gods reign over awkward situations, not even those barbaric Imperial ones. Just when I was ready to fall over dead, a Bosmeri man approached me. Oh thank whatever strange wood elf god has saved me. “I am sorry for making you stand for a seat sir, please follow me to your seat” by please follow me to your seat, he of course meant to say “please let me rudely grab your arm and drag you to a seat between two Nords who likely eat bones for breakfast”, for that is what he did. Oh my lords did Bosmer get on my nerves. I’m not racist or anything, but they always have a cheap smile plastered on their faces that go great with their ugly personalities.

I sat down and stared at the full plate in front of me. A beautiful salad with luscious green lettuce, a cornucopia of fruits and vegetables and a delicious dressing. I expected an appetizer or two, but this was what I could only dream of in an ugly province like this. Why was it like a dream? Probably because it was the meal I deserved. I looked to either side of me and was amazed. Everyone was discussing politics and local events, and everyone, including the three Orcs and four Nords, were eating as politely as a king. I picked up the salad fork to my left, and started eating slowly, as to savour the taste. Most of the people at the table were done before I started my food, but I was perfectly fine with that as they would be served the main course and I could have time to say “Can I have my steak done like that?” or “oh, that looks like too much Scuttle for me”.

I sat eating and listening, and halfway through a delicious piece of lettuce the High Elf across from me, with a voice that screamed confidence, spoke. “Did Ortei fill you in on all of the specifics of our wonderful organization?” he waited for an answer, and I almost choked trying to gulp down the food in my mouth as to keep him from waiting. “Not exactly, but I know about how you fix the evils of the world Mr.?” he looked at me when I said evil, as if it was an alien word. “We do not use words such as good and evil in this place. Actually, ban it from your vocabulary. We believe that there are sides and a medium, not good and evil, as it is ineffective. We have ideals and thoughts, and the other side has ideals and thoughts. To us, they may be the evil invading conquerors, to them; we may be the evil godless rebels. Its all about views. Oh, and the name is Caneyelle.” That was something that has stayed with me throughout my life. “Ahh, that is quite the belief there. Interesting, it is foreign, but so true. I have a question though. Are there reasons other than spiritual fulfilment (a thing an Imperial Cult recruiter once promised me) that may lead me into your beautiful order?” I asked, and was surprised by his answer. “Of course. We are not promising the moons and stars, but we are will give you what you need and what you deserve. You need housing? You have it. Need Septems? You got them. Need a beautiful lunch and a contract so you can sign up? It’ll be here as soon as you’re done the appetizer. Your wish is granted” he smiled and ate the last piece of sheep steak, thus finishing the lunch on his part.

The main course was on its way as I finished my salad, and I can honestly say it was indescribable. I had never had scuttle that was so good, and when I lived in Morrowind, every meal came with this side dish. I talked with some of the others enjoying the main course, and they’re conversation was so elegant that I forgot completely about the kidnapping. I can see why so many people had joined this intriguingly strange group because I would join just for the conversation. I finished the food and it was promptly taken away from me and replaced with a Comberry jam. As I moved a small spoon into the dish and brought it to my mouth, Caneyelle put a contract in front of me along with a small, capped ink well and a feather pen. I finished the dish and read the contract at least thirty times, making sure that I wasn’t signing up for the Imperial army or as a future project for a Necromancy cult. I signed seven times and when I was done, Caneyelle stamped the paper with a thud, which nearly scared the ash off my skin. People cheered and clapped, because apparently stamping forms was popular in this region.