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]

It was in Naztheril's god-given nature to follow the prewritten instructions of the Elder Scrolls. He had always heeded the word and will of Azura, and hers were those of the Scrolls themselves. His entire existence had been coordinated by them, as were all things, and never before Gaenor had he thought of refusing their writings. 'I wonder,' he thought during the silence that followed his companion's question, 'what would happen if I chose my own path for once? What if my rejecting their commands is also written within them? I feel I want to aid him further, but the Scrolls show me returning to the Night Sky and merely spectating the outcome.' "I.. want to come with you," he said aloud, and the elf turned from his sleep. "I am curious to see precisely what the Scrolls have to say when I deny myself of their guidelines." Gaenor smiled.

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It was dawn of the sixteenth day of Rain's Hand and Iranon had completed his great forge. "My master awaits.. his destiny lies on the anvil, under my hammer, and in the shape and form of a new Blade, one to smite Gaenor and return what is mine to my hand." He bent low to the ground and took the idol, almost bowing to his former lord, and with a forceful grunt released it behind him, sending it into the heated smelting pot. He watched as it tumbled in, never to be restored, and felt a sharp, stinging pain in his chest, causing him to topple over onto his back. He opened his eyes quickly and growled between his teeth with anger as he slowly stood once more. "Your power shalst not take me again, demon!" he proclaimed, and promptly began work on his new weapon.

=====

The two travelers made their way together down the steep cliffs leading down into Valenwood, more and more bright green grass appearing the further they went. It reminded Gaenor of Cyrodiil, and he could no longer remember the feeling of grass. Upon reaching the bottom, the all color vanished, and the grass disappeared, leaving black powder and charred earth in its' stead. They looked at each other, as that what seemed appropriate to do at the time, and ventured forth into their ruined homeland. It was not more than thirty paces until they discovered the skeletons.

There were four on patrol at the border, each wielding a large halberd much oversized for the otherwise small undead minions, although they seemed to carry them with ease. They marched about in what would be a comical fashion if the elf and Beast didn't realize they would need to fight them before continuing, and battle with the non-living greatly differs from that with live foes. They were somewhat like Gaenor, in fact; they felt no pain, their strength was unnatural, and their movements were unpredictable. They didn't seem to notice the travelers, or at least they showed no signs of alert, even when the crusted sockets of where their eyes once were pointed in their direction. "Are you able to shift to your other form?" Gaenor whispered, and Naztheril shook his head. "Now is not the time to discuss this, but I promise to explain when we find a.. less crowded area." The Bosmer unsheathed his Blade and its flames exploded upon it at once. The sentries stopped and turned their rotted skulls in his direction, and readied their arms.

Each had pieces of chain armor draped over their bones in different spots, and torn flesh still hung from their ribs and limbs. Dirt and blood stained their dull paleness, still being fed upon by the worms and maggots inhabiting the short pockets of skin that remained. They drew closer and formed a crescent, about to surround the elf as Naztheril stood back, cursing Garonar and Iranon for what they've done. The destruction of Valenwood itself prevented him from morphing into his true self, and he was left to watch his friend fight for his life against the animate dead.

The Amulet shone brightly but the skeletal soldiers continued unhindered. One increased its speed and raised its halberd high into the air, preparing a chopping strike, but instead it met with the fiery Blade, and Gaenor behind it. "Not this day, brother," he snarled, and spun his sword through the creature's face. It collapsed immediately, forcing a surprised chuckle from Naztheril, and the remaining three burst into a charge. The vermin hidden in their bodies were strewn to the left and right, and elf prepared himself. His sharp eyes diverted themselves by instinct a moment before impact towards the one he'd just felled, and let out a furious battlecry as he threw himself into the oncoming three.

The fallen one's displaced bones rattled, and it pieced itself whole once more.

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