Joryn's annoying new world, Its my first ever fan fic Options

[Joryn]

Hey, this is my first ever TES fan fic. Im new to this whole thing, but reading many of the ones posted by people here, I decided to give it a go. As I said, Im not anywhere as good as most people here, in fact the last time I wrote any kind of story was at school.

Anyway, enough excuses, dont mind posting anything negative as Ill just be glad to know if I should or shouldnt continue with this or not. Its late now so I decided to write this and then be off. Enjoy, or dont.

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Crossing the sea of ghosts.

Joryn was pacing around on deck, the sea air helped him fine tune his objectives. Cool moist air and a clear open ocean, which he find profoundly calming. It was hard for him to believe, for the first time he was going to set foot out of his home province. Not that he was particularly brimming with excitement, he was a Dunmer, and as such showed little enthusiasm for the other races or their cultures. He was also a Telvanni to boot, so not the most culturally broad minded specimen to be sure.

Still, Morrowind had been home for his twenty odd years of life so far. Young for a mer, but Joryn had been quick to gain a fair position in his house. An impressive feat, considering the contempt shown to him by many of the higher ranking Telvanni. But this had undoubtedly been made easier as his Masters sphere of influence grew.

Master Aryon, one who had shown a dislike for the old and rigid ways the near corpses on the council ruled, couldn’t have been a better master for Joryn. He and many others like him were given a chance under Aryon. Now their worth was measured by their abilities, and not the centuries they had lived.

But his task beckoned, and he was not going to get the best perspective on it by mulling over his current status within the Telvanni. Master Aryon had summoned him only yesterday and told him of a mission of some importance for the council. A particular amulet rumoured to rest within the ruins of the ancient and extinct Ayleid Empire throughout Cyrodiil.

It stank of personal gain for one of the councillors to get an upper hand, but he had no intentions of letting his master down. Joryn would play fetch and be sure that the trinket landed in the lap of whom it would benefit him most. This would of course be Aryon. Aryon had also mentioned not ruling out aid from the mages guild, a peculiar request, but one that made sense.

It was clear that the Telvanni had no intention of being caught with their exquisite pants down. After another quick look around, it was perhaps time to throw a few encouraging words the captain’s way. “We are making good time, no?” he asked optimistically. “Aye that we are laddy, but I bein sure to keep my nose outta Telvanni business” he chortled “Buncha necromancers to be sure, but they pays well mind you”.

Joryn half smiled at the captain, “I take it we are headed to Blacklight?”
“That we are, after a short stop at Dagon Fel, but we will arrive within the hour laddy”. “Very well” was all Joryn was prepared to finish on, he headed down below deck. “Not much of a talker, eh?” the captain snorted.

Joryn kept himself occupied with his spells and books throughout the rest of the journey. He had no intention of spending time in Dagon Fel, there would be time to waste in Blacklight. But until then Joryn was planning on ways to make his stay in Cyrodiil as short as possible. He was bitter enough about the arrogant humans poking their noses into his home, and not being a hypocrite, was uncomfortable about doing the same to them.

After dozing off in a hammock Joryn was quickly awakened by a loud thud and a familiar loutish voice. “Here we are lady, needn’t you worry bout the payment, you’re keepers saw to that”.With a nod Joryn added “Excellent, now captain it has been a pleasure but I must depart now, perhaps we will meet on my return trip, until then farewell”. “You too laddy!” The captain offered a two fingered salute as Joryn left.

Stepping out into the docks, Joryn’s first priority was to find a tavern. Get something to eat and drink. Weaving his way through the crowded streets with many Dunmer and the odd outlander, wasn’t much trouble. He was hardly packed for a trek, he wore his plain mages robes and carried only a reasonable amount of his gold with him. Also he brought some magical equipment and what little information he could scrape about this amulet. If he needed to make some minor potions on the move he could also manage that.

After a little searching he found a reasonable place to stop, a small tavern called The Unburdened Traveller. The place seemed quiet enough as he entered, and a pretty young Dunmer barmaid smiled pleasantly as he approached. On his way to the bar he was suddenly hit by a strong stench of mead on the air, and eyed a large Nord with his head in his mug, sitting in the corner. Quietly, which was a relief.

“What can I get you, sera?” the young barmaid asked. “Just a mazte, some hound meat and slaughterfish scales if you please”. After quickly preparing his order, she laid the food and drink down in front of Joryn as he passed her the 15 gold. The barmaid's pleasant smile disappeared in an instant. Joryn was too busy stuffing his food down to take notice of the Nord no longer occupied by his cups in the corner, and had walked up behind him. Joryn, with a chunk of hound meat sticking out of his mouth, was taken by surprise as the brutish Nord flipped him around to face him. Joryn’s jaw dropped along with the hound meat, which slapped onto the stone floor.

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Enjoy it or not, thanks if you took the time to read it. I look forward to hearing if Im good enough to continue with this.

[Joryn]

Here is another update. And by the way, I took into account the idea of Joryn getting......"Friendly" with the captain. Well just have to see how it works out though.

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At the recently attacked caravan.

Examining the result of the battle was not a pleasant site. Bodies were strewn across the surrounding area, but were mostly bandit corpses as the remaining guards were tending to the two of their own who had fallen during the battle. Also some of the caravan’s contents had been damaged and littered the area, no longer of any use other than to show what had transpired today. Joryn was having a little trouble breathing, evidently from the lightning bolt that had struck him in the chest during the battle.

He placed both hands on his chest and began to murmur silently to himself. As he spoke the incantations a gentle coolness washed over him, healing his internal and external wounds. Unfortunately he was no tailor and he knew no spells that were of any use on his slightly scorched and smoky robes.
“My robes? Curse you brigand to a thousand tortures in the depths of Oblivion!”
Joryn had put some hours of enchanting into his robe when he created, and clearly would be unable to create another while on a trip such as this.

“Joryn! Come quickly, Fervon is alive and needs restorative magics!”
Evidently one of the guards was not as dead as Joryn had surmised. He trotted over where the guards had crowded around the downed man and were comforting him. Fervon had taken a rather nasty gash across the chest during the fighting, and his face was as pale as a Dunmer’s face could be. He was barely conscious and looked delirious, but it appeared he was in no immediate danger of dying.

“You are skilled in healing, yes? I saw you moments ago heal yourself!” The captain asked desperately. True enough, restoration may not have been Joryn’s speciality, but a Telvanni was never uncomfortable with any school or type of magic. Joryn placed his chin in his hand, and regarded the downed man with his deep red eyes.
“Yes, it appears his wound, while nasty, is not beyond my skills.”
Wasting no more time he formed his hands into the correct movements for the spell.

The familiar cool air and tingling sensation settled onto the group, and Joryn’s hand began to glow a soft blue colour. He gently placed his palm in the middle of the guard’s chest, right across the middle of the gash. Fervon winced for a moment, but his cut slowly sealed in front of their eyes and the colour slowly began to return to his face. They all let out a sigh of relief for Fervon, all but Joryn. His face was filled with neither pride nor arrogance. It was instead scrunched up as he regarded his hand, covered in Fervon’s blood. He patted the guard next to him on the shoulder, transferring most of the blood onto his mail shirt.

“Good work Joryn, but Galrys had no such luck. Poor guy was dead the moment he was struck.”
“Never the less, we appreciate your efforts.” The captain added, with a look of gratitude across her face. Joryn only smiled and bowed his head slowly. After a few minutes, they had collected themselves and begun to search for a spot to bury Galrys. They were surprised when Joryn offered his aid, but his methods were not entirely selfless. He spotted the fact that the guards had now taken to him, and the opportunity of paying for trip through his aid alone presented itself.

Surprisingly, they did not object to Joryn summoning another scamp to help dig. The thing stank for sure, but the time saved digging paid for it. As the guards were offering their good byes, to what seemed a well acquainted companion, Joryn sat with the caravan. He preferred to avoid such personal, and what he considered awkward, situations. Afterwards, they salvaged what they could that had been damaged and set the caravan moving again. They gladly left the bandits to rot where they lay.

Joryn noted that none of the guards seemed particularly effected by what happened. But it was a dangerous business, and they were good at what they did. He also discovered from the scattered bits of talk, that they were all fairly good friends and worked together often. The “captain” as Joryn had repeatedly labelled her, was the leader of the group. It appeared that they rest of the guys had a great deal of respect for her skills and judgement.

Joryn had heard the “captains” name thrown around on occasion, but he certainly preferred the idea of asking for it.
“So, since you’re the group leader here, would you care to tell me your name? Or is it just ma’am, ma’am?”
“My name is Volenu, but your attempts to get us better “acquainted” are wasted” She said, and flashed Joryn a wicked grin.
“Then, I am not to be your toy boy? Why, I am devastated!” Joryn then put his hand over his heart and did his best at looking heartbroken, much to Volenu’s amusement.

Perhaps to the races of men, the thought flirting with women a few hundred years older than them would seem outrageous. While Joryn never considered himself a ladies man, he certainly wanted to take advantage of his youth while he could. And it appeared that it was not just Dunmer women his own age who found his slightly odd manner and charm enjoyable.

Joryn, distracted by his new found lady friend hadn’t noticed that Cyrodiil was now visible on the late daytime horizon. After much hassle it seemed he was finally a step closer to what he had set out for. Joryn had certainly learnt one thing so far. He could never of imagined that his mission would be like this, and good or bad, it was certainly going to be very interesting.

This post has been edited by Joryn: May 23 2006, 02:08 PM