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[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: Plays

Written by Tis'Nael (Corryn)

T’Seca (Based on a True Story) - Author Tis’nael
(recovered by Corryn)
…
Act I

“But it’s ridiculous that you did nothing to that horrible Dunmer”

“T’Seca knows this, but there is nothing T’Seca can do”

Tish’Nal falls to her knees, sobbing, “What do you mean? You don’t have to fi..fight him; you did nothing to offend his honor and HE KNOWS IT! Just don’t..just don’t go!”

“T’Seca must fight him and T’Seca must fight by the rules of the duel.”

“But why? You know he just wants to…to hunt you! He always finds a way for a slave to insult him one way or another when he is bored! And...and with that bracer on your arm yo..you can’t fight back. Please, you must escape!”

“T’Seca escapes and his friends will be the ones to suffer. If T’Seca wins perhaps we can find new lives together. If T’Seca loses…please, do not cry.”

Tish’Nal lifts herself unsteadily to her feet.

“You still must..you mu…no, no you wouldn’t leave any of us, would you?”

T’Seca smiles with a great sadness in his eyes.

“No.”

With tears still welling up, she whimpers, “Even though you ca…cannot cast with that thing on your arm.”

T’Seca nods slowly.

“Even then, yes.”

T’Seca rises from his place and begins walking to the door. Tish’Nal hurries after him.

“You cannot follow,” T’Seca says, taking her gently by the shoulders. Smiling sadly, he moves her aside. “T’Seca will return for you; he promises.”

She droops back numbly against the wall and stares after him as his silhouette fades into the distance. “Please, come back,” she weeps toward his receding form.


Act II

T’Seca arrives at the field and sees the Dunmer slaver awaiting his arrival.

“So, Khajiit, you did not turn tail.” The Dunmer laughs, apparently amused by his own wit, then his eye catches an old dagger in T’Seca’s belt. “Oh, I see. I suppose it was too much to ask for a beast to remember the rules of a civilized duel.”

T’Seca ignores him, but stands ready to act.

The Dunmer pauses briefly then, while pacing in a slow circle around T’Seca, and continues with a patronizing grin, “It was my honor, after all, that was offended, Khajiit, and I chose magic to decide this contest. If you strike me with that piece of scrap metal, you forfeit,” the Dunmer scowls abruptly, “And I will see to it that the rest of your pitiful lot suffer greatly for my pains.”

T’Seca growls and lifts the blade in the air.

The Dunmer grins once more. “So much for your innate Khajiiti sense of honor. Very well. If you care so little about their fates then I see no reason to prolong this dispute. Time for me to end this.” Deep blue begins to shine from behind his eyes and the air hisses and pops as energy builds around him into blinding light.

“For Tish’Nal” T’Seca whispers and swiftly drives his blade forward. There is a soft thud and T’Seca cries out in pain.

“What…what did you do?” stammers the Dunmer, taken aback and too surprised to react. T’Seca raises his arm clutching it and gasping in pain. Slowly he slides the bracer past the ruin at the end of his arm. T’Seca rises slowly and begins to growl, moving toward the dismayed slaver.

“You can’t have…you…your own hand!” The Dunmer falteres, but then realizing T’Seca was moving toward him releases a bolt of bright energy from his fingertips in panic. To his dismay it splashes harmlessly around T’Seca as wisps of smoke trail away from the shield surrounding him.

T’Seca raises his intact hand and ethereal flames begin to dance around in his closed grasp, “Such horrible deeds you have wrought, and even now you have no remorse.” He opens his palm as the flames flow outward, and the roar drowns out the shrieking Dunmer’s last words.

T’Seca reaches down to the body and lifts a key on a chain from around the Dunmer’s neck. He places it in a pouch and, wincing, supports his damaged hand. “Now, the others and Tish’Nal need not pay such a high price.” He turns slowly and limps back toward the distant huts where a figure stands in a doorway, weathering the chill of the morning and awaiting his return.