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]

I held the rope thing in both hands, and waved it up and down three times as I had once seen a Cyrodiil guard do. The horse started moving and though it was slow, I congratulated myself. I waved the rope a little faster as I got used to the animal, and noticed why people like these beasts so much. The skill needed to move one of these is very low, and it gives you quite the height advantage. The hose sped up to what seemed like a jog and I shook unsteadily. We road into the ancient dirt road, and I was surprised by the lack of snow. The canopy of large, pined trees stopped the ground from being covered.

The road twisted and turned around enormous trees, large rocks and what seemed to be Nordic statues, but I had not yet seen any crossroads to ignore. As I rode the road got steadier and more level, with small rocks on either side of the path. I rode for a good three minutes at the horses jogging speed, when I decided to slow down. I pulled on the brown rope hard, and the horse stopped. I almost fell off of the beast because of the sudden stop and cursed under my breath. I waved the brown things twice and the beast started walking at a steady pace. It gave me a chance to look around at the Northern plants and trees, but they didn’t much interest me. After not too long, I could spot a crossroads. But something was strange about it. Something very strange.

White smoke was coming from the side of the cross roads, and I could hear voices. But that wasn’t all. A large statue of a man statue stood in the middle of the crossroads, and flowers and shrubs surrounded him. I drew Shald, my new borrowed sword, and watched the trees and smoke cautiously. “Ay! Andei! Someone’s come to pay their respects!” a voice yelled in the direction of the smoke. He was obviously Imperial. A tall, Imperial man walked out of the forest and my horse stopped dead in its tracks. He was clad in a armour I had never seen, but it looked like the armour of a high-ranking Imperial officer. “You aren’t a Nord” he said, and I interrupted before he could say anymore. “Really? I guess I’ve been living a lie” he smiled, but still looked angry that I had disrespected him with a interruption and insulted him. I sometimes tell jokes when I’m nervous, but this was self-confidence, not fear. “That’s too bad. And here I thought I saw a nice Nord women, but all along it was an ash-man” that angered me. Ash-man is a un-common racist name that is meant to insult Ashlanders, but is even more insulting to a normal Dunmer. “You could have said Dunmer, or Dark-elf, but you chose to seal your fate” I kept my anger hidden and span my sword around to show my swordsmanship. “Seal my fate? What is my fate? Killing a Dark-elf?” He drew a katana from a leather sheath on his hip.

I climbed off my horse and it walked over to some trees behind me. I knew if I fought on horseback he’d just kill my horse. Another three men came out of the forest, all armed with Claymores and wearing normal Imperial armour. “We were going to let you go if you gave us that sword and some money, but now were going to cut you to pieces” one of the three new Imperials said, trying, and failing, to spin his sword as I did. All the spells I had ever learned in my life ran through my mind, all fifteen of them. Most of them I had learned to help around the house and the armoury, but I had been taught a few by my co-worker that were obviously offensive. The one that came to mind was “Ice lord’s end”, which was a unpredictable, incredibly dangerous fireball and I had never been able to cast it before. Oh well, I guess its melee for me. “Wow, I see your soldiers are so well trained they know to try copying me. Really, give the sword spin another go while I burn your leader into ash” I laughed and span my sword from one hand to the other to mock the soldier. “Do you have any experience with a blade other than acrobat tricks?” another one of the soldiers said. “Well, considering I am an Armourer and train with five different sword an hour a day, yes, yes I do. Do you have any skills other than calling on friends to do your bidding?” I hit him where it hurts, his pride and ego. “Oh yeah? Well, how about me and you fight to the death, no friends?” I shook my head when the leader said that, and the soldiers stepped back.