The life of Nethemi Ocatu [WIP:P] Options

[Konji]

After a long time away from writing I'm ready to tell of Nethemi's life, starting with his birth, childhood and relative history, all the way to the reason and reasoning behind why he enered the Imperial prison.

Also just done 4 sides of A4 notes on his first few encounters in the ayleid ruins across the from the starting sewers...still haven't found what's at the end.

Watch this space.

This post has been edited by Konradude: Apr 14 2006, 09:56 PM

[Konji]

Sorry for this boring bit but I feel it is needed before the story really begins.


For three years I covered my face and begged for coins before getting Armand Christophe, a member of the Thieves Guild who I met soon after my mother died, to buy my food for me. I stayed in the Waterfront District, never building up enough courage to venture into the other sections of Imperial City. It was in my eleventh year that my life took a turn for the better, on the Religious holiday of Mara. The Mage’s Guild had decided to take a visit to the Waterfront, to see what it was like to live rough. I had crawled out into the street when I had heard the droning beat of the forty or so padded feet marching along the shabbily cobbled road into the district.

I had reached out with one of my hands to touch them and see who they were. I felt cloaks of a handful of a collection of different textures, a feeling that aroused my senses as I grasped them tighter. It was then that I was lifted into the air by a strong pair of arms, that held me in a vice grip. They had said something to me, but I could not understand them. I did not know, nor could speak any language from the upper world and could only speak in Nethemer. I spoke back to him in my language, asking him what he said. All around me had gasped when I spoke in my peoples’ rich language. The mage holding me was now interested in me, so kept hold of me as he took me to his room in the Guild halls.

The man that took me back with him was an Apprentice at the Arcane University by the name of Cain Relabius. He was an Imperial who struggled in most areas of magic but excelled in restoration. He simply called me specimen, but treated me like a son. It was through him that I developed my eyesight. Because of him I could see a greyed version of the world, a world without colour. I shall be forever indebted to the man, for surely without him the world of Tamriel would be in ruins.

It was also at the University that I learnt to speak in common tongue. I travelled every morning before dawn to the Mystic Archives and learnt from the Apprentices there. It took a year and a half but I learnt to read write and speak common tongue. Because of my new found knowledge I now learnt some spells from the Scholars there, hiding in the bushes while they held their lessons. I found conjuration to be the most interesting of all the different areas of magic, although I stayed well away from the darker side of conjuration.

My life was not rosy in the Arcane University of course. No authority figures knew of my existence in their, neither the guards nor the Arch-Mage. I was forced to spend my time their naked, a specimen of research to everyone in the university. I was fed well to keep me fit and healthy, but suffered abuse at the hands of most. My master Cain Relabius was an unstable man, sometimes changing a fatherly hug into an attempt to crush my skull. It was only in the Archives that I was accepted as a man of education, and spent most time there. But I could never get close to anyone in the University... the barriers were always apparent.

This post has been edited by Konradude: Apr 17 2006, 09:30 PM