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."

[ShraX]

Gaenor knew he would be killed if he opened his mouth without being told to speak, so for now he watched in partial amusement at the foolery of Ri'Zev, slowly twisting his arms and fingers around with the Blade as if to display actual skill with a sword. His men at the campfire chuckled to each other and watched on, but promptly silenced themselves when the helmed one turned in their direction. He slid the sword hard into an empty scabard at his side and broke its sides, as it was too thin for the weapon, and kneeled to the Bosmer once more. "Tell me," he inquired, "where did you find this thing," and motioned to the Blade. The elf remained emotionless and answered, "I won it in a duel." Ri'Zev cackled loudly at this and turned to the ones at the fire, who immediately began laughing with him. "Against who, my mother?" All four Khajiit were now in uproarious laughter, at least for as long as was Ri'Zev.

Once they calmed down, Gaenor's mock interrogator began again. "You know how to read words?" the elf nodded and he continued, "Dance in Fire.. good words, eh?" He knew where this was going. He could sense a smirk on the Khajiit's face even with his helmet closed, and he realized he was slowly being pulled into a trap. "I'm sorry, I've not read that." Ri'Zev unsheathed the Blade quickly and hopped back, pointing it in the Bosmer's face with loathing. "Don't play fool to Ri'Zev, Wood Elf! You've been told this war in that book, you know about this thing!" His arm was shaking slightly with rage, as if Gaenor was in the war between Valenwood and Elswyr himself. He quickly identified this particular Khajiit as, while affluent with words, quite lacking in intelligence, and knew to be wary of such people as they are quick to misunderstand such things, and take drastic action. "The war between our race's nations has been over for a long while, and neither of us partook in it. We have no quarrel," he responded quietly. Ri'Zev threw off his helmet to reveal a makeshift eyepatch over one eye stretching across a grizzled mane and bright red fur, and an open, foaming mouth showing his spiked teeth. "PARTOOK?! What is this thing? Hey, give this fool a weapon. I wanna duel, haha!"

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Under Garonar's command, it was Iranon's duty to first forge weapons of great power and to entrust them to those of weak will so they might do his bidding. Though he was once skillful in combat, he had been reduced to a full-fledged necromancer, complete with a frail, colorless body that could fight no longer. However well he knew this, he always longed to hold his Blade once more, and it pained him greatly for many years to be barred from its' use. It was now his obligation to craft a weapon to substitute the Blade of Cinders and to find a new servant.

In order to do this, he fashioned a great anvil in the center of the Sun Tree's stump and a large smelting pot with bellows, a long work table and a water trough. With all the iron from the fallen elves used, he thought of with what to created the weapon. He would require a material much more potent than that of the Blade, ebony, and it would need to contain enormous demonic energies to face Gaenor's amulet. There were no such metals in Valenwood, and he pondered for some time on where he could find such stuff in the immediate area. Only in Oblivion could I possible obtain what I need to forge such a weapon, he thought. [I]Oblivion houses the most sinister of beings. The spirits of fallen evils past hath manifested there and built an empire of darkness and fire. Those who are sent into Oblivion are labeled 'Demon' and are known to have the blackest souls among all else who live and have died...[/] ...and then he knew.

"FOOL AM I," he shouted in frustration, "To Morrowind once more, for therein lies that which shall Gaenor defeat, and the Blade shall be mine again!"

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