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 night and the week-long smoldering left the skies choked in black smog. The moons of Azura, Her Eyes, grew dry and cracked, and with shadows were closed, unable to bear the sight any longer. As was now well known to all Tamriel, Valenwood in its entirety had been sundered, and over the past days since its destruction, the sun had been washed of color, leaving a grey light which hung in mourning of its Tree. The rain was hot after falling through the searing wall of ash above and only added to the drudgery as Gaenor and the force at his command marched toward the center of his homeland. Soldier's voices could be heard between the hard slogging into the damp ruin.

"From out near Bruma I was picking seeds when I saw it; a great pillar of smoke, bigger than anything that far off that ever filled my vision. It was huge, and in a few minutes the sound arrived at my ears.. one 'boom', out of a nightmare."

"Some of the others were in the City at the time, they say. I was on duty in the palace, and I heard it too.. three windows that faced Valenwood's direction shattered, and the halls became uncomfortably warm. I'm lucky not to have been injured by the glass shards."

"This 'Iranon' is news to me, but everyone's heard about Garonar, the Lord of Fire. They say he can take your very soul and add it to his own twisted essence. How we're going to defeat him is beyond me.. but I'd give anything for the Empire."

They acted more as a curious audience to the scene rather than an army, but no one blamed them. Such measures of death could not be fit on any scale. They truly did not know how to act, and remained in awe for the two days it took them to reach the center of the country. It was difficult to sleep as they brought no bedrolls or supplies of any kind, save for what Naztheril carried from the nomad camp in Elswyr. They were hungry, and most of the food, which was enough for the two travellers as was the only amount they expected to need, was reserved for Gaenor. No one asked how he lost his left arm, but they had the sense to respect his unusually large appetite to make up for the energy and blood he was still replenishing.

The Bosmer directed himself to the Prince after having had his fill of listening to these peoples' discussions on their grave situation and surroundings.

"Tell me your name, Prince."

"Garen Septim, Son of Uriel Septim, Fourth Heir to the Cyrodiilic Empire and humble servant of Tamriel. My apologies for not introducing myself properly earlier.. it really never occurred to me. I suppose I expected Azura to have told you my name, but the Daedra Princes are a bit eccentric, no? Probably just ordered you to my hideaway and hurried you along.. I am no stranger to the communing with Gods, you know."

Garen was presumably on edge at being faced with such an ordeal in Gaenor's mind. 'Then again, he could likely just be your average, talkative royalty,' he thought. He lowered his voice and spoke again, "Your army is understandably negative about all this.. I have my doubts as well." The Prince managed a short chuckle and responded, "As would all who are so foolishly brave as we in such times. I know I hide my nervousness, but be assured that I will do whatever is necessary to put this threat to an end."

They stopped and the clattering of metal was hushed by a breath of wind, sharp as a spear and howling past the looming stump which marked the death of the Sun Tree. "There is not 'an' end to this...perversion of life, Prince," said the elf with seething contempt.

"This will be one end, singular and absolute. This end will be his."

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