The stories so far, Edited and ready to roll. Options

[Troika]

OK, this thread will contain any and all stories that are posted on the geocities site and labelled as edited. These babies we don't have to worry about until it actually comes time to stick em in the game.

I will sort out this thread... in other words, please do NOT post up stories yourself... it could lead to multiple copies which could prove problematic later.

Also, please keep posts in this thread to a minimum. This is mainly just a place where people have quick and easy (although not necessarily organised) access to the stories already finished with.

[Troika]

Section: Founders' Fates

Written by Various Sources (Jaeld Alteir)

"Many Faces, Many Sides: An Approximation of the One Known as Jaeld Alteir"
A Compilation from Many Sources by Drodicus the Learned

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

An Introduction
Drodicus the Learned, Editor

This land of ours once was blessed with the presence of an Altmer known by the name of Jaeld Alteir: scholar, wanderer, and friend. Some may say he still roams the wild places in search of knowledge, or perhaps peace, but there is little to substantiate these tales, and I must regrettably choose the more rational conclusion.
But if there was one thing that most intrigued and inspired this great figure, it was the eternal power of the written word, and so it seems fitting to erect a memorial of words to this dear departed friend and mentor. I shall not be alone in this endeavor, however, and have instead compiled a number of works in various forms from those who knew him well, and even from those who met him but once. All shall throw their literary light on the one who was Jaeld Alteir, and perhaps when illuminated from all directions we shall begin to understand the complex and marvelous being that he was.

-----------

Young Elf, Big Future
From the memoirs of Ralhi Olthai

...One can always tell that you're past your prime when your own students can out-think you using only what you've taught them. A strange paradox, it seems, but this young Altmer named Jaeld is running my old mind ragged. He wrings more out of what I tell him than I realized I put in there in the first place, and it's rather spooky when I get to thinking on it. But the worst of it is that he doesn't even seem to realize he's doing it!
Oh sure, I've had plenty of pupils before who were hot stuff and knew it, and they'd try to best their tired old teacher at every turn, but those lads just kept an old man on his toes! This Jaeld just slips modestly past, and it isn't until after he leaves for the day that I realize just how far ahead of me he got in our conversations. It's enough to make me start thinking about retirement.

But, ah, I've got another few decades left in me. The kid's just an exception to the rule--too smart for his own good, but too intent on everyone else's good to get a big head over it. He'll go places, surely...but as for me, I suppose I'll just stay on here at the university for a while longer. Things ought to settle down once Jaeld gets restless and moves on to bigger things...

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

Of Dabbling in Bureaucracy
From the correspondence of Disciple Josephus, of the Imperial Cult

Invoker,

I write to you with some concern about Adept Alteir, the High Elf who joined our order not so very long ago. While I cannot say that he has done anything wrong or improper, per se, I still worry about his future with us. Not to say that he isn't a dedicated and hard-working servant of the order, certainly, as his service record will attest. It's just that...well, I'm not convinced as to the depth of his loyalties.

There is little doubt that he is devoted to the work we do, but that's just it. I think he's more devoted to the work than to the hierarchy behind the work. While he is the utmost model of courtesy and respect to his superiors, they report what they can only describe as "an amiable strong will" about him. He has the perplexing ability to always seem to end up doing as he pleases while leaving us convinced that it's precisely what WE please as well. But a careful overview of his activities has led me to conclude that there have been a number of occasions on which he has left to conduct blessings and various acts of mercy on behalf of the Cult that were initially deemed of tertiary importance or prohibitive expense.

I merely express concern that he is simply "dabbling" in the order for his own purposes, and will undoubtedly leave the moment we start to conflict with whatever he deems is right and proper to begin with. It seems almost as if he is using the Cult as a convenient means towards learning and practicing the healing arts, rather than as a lifelong vocation.

Signed,
Disciple Josephus

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

Magician of Words
A song by Thalacus Windsong

As I was walking towards forever,
O'er land and sea,
A traveler I met
And can never forget
For he twas a savior to me.

Bandits lept from the shadows
Wicked blades aloft,
And I quivered in fear
Seeing no help was near,
Save a voice from the tree line, quite soft.

"Harm not this lad good sirs,
But rather be on your way.
For none can withstand
A mysterious old man
Who holds arcane magicks in sway."

Now there isn't a bandit
In all of the land
Who is foolish enough
As to try out his luck
On a magicka-wielding old man.

Alteir was his name,
And with words and naught else
He wrought magic that day
And so I shall repay
With a song to his memory and health.

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

Fragments from the Journal of Mortimer of Wayrest, Pupil of Jaeld Alteir

3rd Rain's Hand
Master Alteir rarely speaks to me other than to comment on a rare piece of foliage or to tell me to go home and return to my own studies, but I refuse to leave his side. I think he is merely unaccustomed to company, having spent most of his life as a lone wanderer and hermit, moving with the seasons and with his literary interests. But, then again, he has never really tried to enforce his mandate that I return home, and I suspect that he may simply be issuing a disclaimer of sorts: "I appreciate your help, but I wander to strange lands, and do not wish to be responsible for whatever may befall us." But it is difficult to be certain if that is his meaning, for he is by nature a taciturn man, and speaks little.

4th Rain's Hand
We spent most of the afternoon watching tiny insects walking across the surface of a small pond. Master Alteir seemed intrigued by the idea--not so much that it was strange to us to see creatures walking upon the water, but that it was so utterly normal for the creatures themselves. "Would the drama of a life lived on water be so different from one lived on land, if their positions were reversed?" he mused. A discussion of the relativity of one's perceptions ensued.

5th Rain's Hand
Today we stumbled upon an isolated homestead beset by wild beasts. The farmer was trying to fend them off and keep them away from his livestock, but he was a frail old man and the beasts were many. Master Alteir merely grimaced sadly as we crested a hilltop and the scene first become visible, and then he strode boldly yet calmly into the midst of the commotion. The beasts turned and snarled at him, but with a simple gesture he suddenly began to radiate an overwhelmingly powerful aura of calm, and he seemed almost to shine with light as the fervor of the beasts subsided and they began almost instantly to cower silently at his feet. It was an amazing use of the most subtle of powers, and I was humbled by the sheer potency of the power he exuded in that moment. He left the grateful farmer with a simple smile and a copy of a book of poetry. I'm not quite sure that the man can read, as he seemed a bit puzzled by the gift, but I think that's a possibility that rarely occurs to so avid a reader as Master Alteir.

9th Rain's Hand
I could swear that the clouds seem to move aside when we pass, and the flowers bloom more brightly as Master Alteir approaches. But perhaps it is just unseasonably nice weather we are having. Either way, I can't recall having been stuck in a rainstorm yet on this trip, and each night Master Alteir sleeps soundly beneath the stars, with a peaceful expression on his face and no apparent fear of the possibility of rain.

11th Rain's Hand
We spoke of legends today, and of the formative strength that suggestion may have on the mind. Master Alteir is a treasure trove of obscure myths and legends gathered throughout his travels, and he was kind enough to share a number of them for my edification. We spent quite some time discussing where exactly the line between myth and reality might be drawn, especially as the fact of "now" fades into nothingness and becomes the past. I still can't decide if he actually believes any of the bizarre theories and points of view we so often discuss, or if he merely considers them to be amusing intellectual exercises.

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

From the personal writings of Jaeld Alteir

"A word is whatever you make it."

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

A Letter from Telvanni Wizard Velth Teroth, solicited by the Editor for the purposes of this compilation

Drodicus,

So you ask about Jaeld Alteir, hmm? Fantastic chap, great wizard. Never did enough wizarding, in my opinion, but he was certainly good at it nonetheless. Those stuffed-shirt scholars that always seemed to like clustering around him preferred to think of him as a harmless little botanist who liked to read, and that's true enough, but you should see the fire this kid could spurt if he wanted to.

See, he joined the Telvanni for a time, back on one of his jaunts to Vvardenfell, and made a bit of a name for himself too. Not really cut out for Telvanni politics though, bit too pacifistic and all that, but he got himself a decent foothold and a modest tower to retreat to. But one of the bolder wizards over interpreted that pacifism bit, and decided it'd be fun to push ole Alteir and his entourage out of his tower. Heh. Boy am I glad I was within sight of that. Best fireworks show I've seen in a long time. See, Alteir wasn't necessarily a pacifist per se, he just usually found ways around his problems that didn't require him to BOTHER fighting. But start pushing around the folks he feels are under his protection? Flame on.

Yes, that kid turned into a living column of flame for a moment there at the start of it, once the other uppity Telvanni lad started pushing his luck. (can't remember his name..."Crispy" will suffice for the purposes of this story) The heavens split open above him, and each of Crispy's thugs got a personalized lightning bolt all to themselves. Make no mistake, that Alteir kid was a force to be reckoned with when he needed to be. Could've been quite the wizard if he'd get his nose out of those books. I mean, come on, a wizard needs to be well read and all, but there are limits. At some point you just need to get out there and fry stuff, right? At least that's how I do it, and it works just fine for me.

-VT

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

"I learned all I know from Jaeld, and I learned that I know nothing."
~Jeralic, fellow scholar and long-time student of Jaeld Alteir

"Once, I asked him what he would do if there were no books for him to study.
'Write them,' he replied.
At first, I thought he had somewhat missed the point of my question. Later, of course, I realized that it was I who had missed the point."
~Aliga, fellow scholar and occasional student of Jaeld Alteir

"How do you judge a man, I wonder? By his words or by his deeds? And if his words were few, but his deeds were many? Why, then I would call him Jaeld Alteir, and count myself lucky to have known him."
~Melethew, fellow scholar

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

From "The Written Word, Master and Slave" by Llothen the Poet
(this passage was found affixed to the wall in Jaeld Alteir's primary hermitage)

Oh the worlds that words have wrought, and that yet lie unbidden beyond the page! Muses, let loose your captives, or else tighten your grip so that we must struggle all the more to free them, and in struggling acquire that which is beyond our grasp! Words we command in droves, and yet they elude us still--we chase them ever onward, and they continue without end. What marvelous magic is this, that none can master yet all can wield! It can strike down kings or create gods, and yet even the simplest peasant can conquer it without fear. Words, that great gift of the gods! May they never fail us, but always surprise us!

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

From "Great Quests of Great Mortals"

...the Altmer known as Jaeld Alteir is said to have undertaken a journey of several years in search of an ancient tome written by a little-known order of monks who had devoted themselves to the fusion of knowledge and physical substance.

Alteir apparently took an interest in the subject over the course of numerous discussions with colleagues as to the feasibility of becoming, in essence, a living repository of knowledge far beyond the capabilities of biological organisms. "Just as the written word achieves a sort of immortality," he is said to have written, "Could it be possible for a living being to cross that line as well? To embody the written word so fully and completely as to virtually become it, and therefore become, by extension, beyond the grip of time themselves?"
The pursuit of this theory inspired a number of academic papers on the subject, but it was the search for remnants of that ancient monastic order that occupied him most, for although even their very name had been lost to history, they had been intimately involved in precisely the types of studies in which Alteir himself was now engrossed. His intellectual curiosity burned in him like a hunger, and he pieced together whatever clues he could in search of a copy of their primary holy book, "From Materiality to Memory". But they had been a remote and scattered order, and leads were scarce...

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

A Letter sent to Jaeld Alteir, from his personal correspondence. Date uncertain.

Dear Sir,

I write to thank you for your extraordinarily generous monetary contribution to our humble, fledgling library. I must confess that I was not aware you were a man of such means, though upon further reflection I suppose that one such as yourself might perchance amass much after he has traveled so widely for so long.

On a hunch, I made some inquiries to sate my own curiosity and discovered that you have been a generous benefactor of a great many libraries and literary collections of all sizes, great and small. I have even heard rumors that you were intimately involved in the founding and funding of the great Library of Tes F'Ruum, which, if I may say so in confidence, I consider to be a very worthy endeavor.

So on behalf of myself and the innumerable others to whom you have helped bring the light of knowledge, I offer my sincerest thanks.

To the pursuit of truth and knowledge,
Borathan

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

Aye, I remember Jaeld. Tall, slender...moved slow when he could, and fast when he had to. The weight of years rested on that furrowed brow, but his eyes shone more brightly than a newborn babe's. They could light up a room, those eyes...cheer you when you were at your worst, even before he spoke a word in that quiet, level voice of his. Like a soft breeze on a cool summer night, that voice.

He came to our village many a time, secluded though we are. He always seemed to know when he would be needed most, and arrived during drought, or after a poor harvest, or when one of our closest kin was ill. He brought food when there was none, and brewed potions when they were most vital. He offered them freely in trade, and their price was but a quiet chat, and a tale spun from the ancient folklore of our ancestors. A wonderful listener, he was, and not just to the old tales that he soaked up so eagerly. The youngest child among us could sit on his lap and babble on about nothing, or relate his experiences chasing butterflies down by the stream, and Jaeld would sit and listen patiently as if it were the most enthralling story he'd ever heard.
A great man, that Jaeld, but probably too modest to realize it...I suspect he never fully realized just how extraordinary he really was.

-Village Elder, as recorded by Drodicus the Learned for this compilation

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

Further fragments from the Journal of Mortimer of Wayrest, Pupil of Jaeld Alteir
(Exact year uncertain, but clearly several years after the previous excerpt)

12th Frostfall
Blast it all, Master Alteir left me in the middle of the night! Oh, I've been so foolish to let my guard down--after establishing myself as his traveling companion for the past few years, the frequency of his insistences that I "Go home and not tarry here with a wandering old man" had reduced, and I thought perhaps he would no longer attempt to strike out on his own! And, truly, I still believe that that is much the case. He had grown rather accustomed to my presence, I think, and clearly enjoyed having someone to talk to on the rare occasions that he spoke, so if he left me here that must mean he is quite convinced that the path grows too dangerous ahead! I can write no more--I must hasten in search of his trail!

15th Frostfall
I have found but few scattered signs of the path Master Alteir has taken, and followed them as best I can, but it is uncertain at best. He has traveled this world too long, and can be as cunning as a Bosmer ranger in leaving no mark behind if he so wishes. He has been careless at times, however, and left the occasional track for me to find. Though convenient for me, I fear it means that this quest for the long-forgotten "From Materiality to Memory" has begun to consume him all the more. I pray that he shall not be overly careless in his pursuit, however, as we now travel in forbidding lands...

19th Frostfall
The crags grow more treacherous here, but I am beginning to piece together all that Master Alteir has shared in the past about his study of this extinct order of monks, and I must admit that the clues he has garnered over the years do seem to indicate that I'm on the right track. Alas, he is undoubtedly still far ahead, and I have not seen any sign of his passing for days...these bare stones leave little evidence.

20th Frostfall
I am beginning to despise the monastic practice of dwelling in such insanely secluded locales...
I hear noises in the dark now, too, whenever the moon passes behind the clouds. Beasts lurking in the shadows, no doubt. These mountains are not quite as lifeless as they seem, and unsteady footing is not the only danger now...

22nd Frostfall
I am deep in the mountains now, lost if not for landmarks that I remember from my talks with Master Alteir, signs of a long-forgotten order that he gleaned from other ancient tomes scattered across the land. I must confess that I often wondered if they had truly ever existed. Master Alteir has spoken so often in recent years about the possibilities that this lost book may help him to achieve. He dreams of the chance to meld material flesh and ethereal knowledge, to transcend the limits of mortal existence and transform himself into a living repository of knowledge, purified and limitless, without form or end. And what a gift that would be to the races of this world! A perfect store of knowledge, infinite and incorruptible, never to fall victim to the slow erasure of time. A noble idea, but is it even possible?? But that question, of course, is precisely why he seeks this book...

28th Frostfall
Alas, but I have found poor Master Alteir's walking stick, splintered in two upon the rocks halfway down a mighty cliff! His beloved staff, that traveled with him always before I was even born, its gnarled wood worn smooth over countless journeys! For a time I wept, and dared not glance down into the abyss below...but at last I could resist no more, and was met with the mournful sight of the scattered pages of a shattered book drooped listlessly on the rocks below, and slowly being sent twirling down deeper into the abyss by wailing gusts of wind...

I will return to the hermitage now, and linger here no more. His books must be gathered and delivered into the capable hands of the Librarian at Tes F'ruum...he would like that...yes, he would like that indeed...

This post has been edited by Troika: Mar 13 2006, 05:47 PM