The Temple of Lore, Works of the Schola Options

[Black Hand]

This thread is for the stories of the members of Order of the Schola, for any questions you may have please click on the following link.

http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=3495

ANYTHING that is not a story or poem or whatever should be posted on the link that was just provided. Thank you, not trying to be mean, just trying to keep our sacred temple clean. Now then, an explanation.

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The Temple of Lore is a sacred sanctum of tomes, dreams, thoughts, abstracts, histories, stories, poems, and the written word.

It exists in the twilight, between reality and fantasy, it embraces all forms and images that attempt to define it. It is perception, and the perciever.

There exists an order of men, commonly known to the masses as the Writers Guild, more accurately called the Order of the Schola who have mastered this twilight abstract in the form of storytelling, they alone have the power to transcend to the Temple of Lore, and contibute and take from its threads of knowledge.

They exist amongst us as Journalists, Bards, Old Men sitting on a porch with a glass of lemonade recanting old experiences. If you ask nicely, and your lucky to find the chosen few, a Schola can breathe life into any illusion, any thought.

[canis216]

Author's Note: This short story will be best understood if you've also read my first two pieces, which are on the loose in this forum. But don't let that small obstacle deter you: this tale exists mostly on its own terms. Enjoy.

By the Sea

Chun-Ook pulled into her home port, the Imperial fortress of Ebonheart, with a single passenger. Usually her owner, Nevosi Hlan, wouldn’t sale with fewer than four, but this Redguard paid well, and he had been eager to see his wife again anyway. A few younger Dunmer, new to the island, had taken a shine to her, and made her nervous when he was gone for more than a few days. He had been at sea more than a week, ferrying a load of Imperial fat cats to Raven Rock—a special fare, but tiresome. It didn’t trouble him much to leave Seyda Neen a few hours ahead of schedule.

The Redguard hadn’t said much as they sailed, but he knew that she worked at Arrille’s place. It seemed odd that she would pay so much for such a short trip—she could only be saving a few hours—but Nevosi wasn’t one to pry. Besides, the Redguard looked like she had enough on her mind, pacing the boat as she had been.

As Nevosi tied up to the great stone dock the Redguard hopped off Chun-Ook, but not before slipping the shipmaster a generous tip. A big spender, indeed.

“Thank you for your haste, shipmaster.” The Redguard spoke curtly.
“My pleasure, sera.”

At that the Redguard smiled, and strode briskly into the plaza, to the great dragon. Nevosi’s eyes followed her for a moment, and then returned to the task of securing his ship.

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Just south of Castle Ebonheart, on the beach, the Argonian Always-He-Lingers-in-the-Sun was doing credit to his name. He was naked from the waist up, lying on his black robe, watching the few wispy white clouds as they drifted by. Five bottles of cyrodiilic brandy stood beside him; another five, empty, were strewn about on the sand.

“Elone, what the hell are you doing here?”

The Redguard, who had been observing the Argonian from behind a tree, just laughed. “Dead drunk and I still can’t sneak up on you. No wonder Caius sent me here.”

“Caius? What the hell does he want with me? The s’wit kicked me out the order two months ago.”

“Yes, I remember. After that incident in Suran.”

“Are you going to lecture me, too? I did it, and I’d gladly do it again.”

“They’re rebuilding.”

At that the Argonian grinned, as only an Argonian can.

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Night had come to Ebonheart. Always-He-Lingers-in-the-Sun and Elone shared a table in the back corner of the Six Fishes, while the other patrons, a smattering of common folk and off-duty Imperial guards, gathered around the bard.

Elone looked, and spoke seriously. “Come now; let me tell you what Caius needs. We’re wasting time.” She cast a look over her shoulder, at the merry crowd.

“No, let me buy you another drink. I’m commemorating the two month anniversary of my dismissal, after all.”

Elone seized him by the shoulder. “Do this and all will be forgiven. Everything you threw away, we’ll return. Your pay, rank, papers—everything.”

“What could be so important? I’m damaged goods, a security risk. If the slavers had seen my face…”

“Don’t worry about that, Al. Let me tell you a story.”

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Chun-Ook plied the Inner Sea once more, this time bearing for the mainland. Nevosi Hlan loved the sea, but for once wasn’t happy to be underway. Yes, it was a perfect day for sailing; the sky was painfully clear, and scarcely a wave broke Chun-Ook’s bow. But today Nevosi was carrying those same young Dunmer who had taken a liking to his wife. He had found even more reason to dislike them; not only were they loud and obnoxious fools, they were mercenaries in the employ of Orvas Dren. Apparently, they had some sort of important cargo to pick up, and they needed to bring it into Vvardenfell personally.

The sun was nearly set as Nevosi guided his ship into a small, secluded harbor. One of the younger Dunmer called gruffly from the bow, “You see that manor house to portside? Pull up to the dock.” Muttering, Nevosi followed the order. He could see the stinking light. But they were paying well, these buffoons, 2000 septims up front and another 2000 upon arrival back at Ebonheart. “Yes, yes, very good, shipmaster. Nethyn, jump down there and tie the ship up. Alright, shipmaster. You’ve done well for us. The five of us will go inside and gather the crates, there’ll be 10 in all, enough for a host of mercenaries.” At this, he looked at his fellows and grinned. “Let’s earn our wages, boys.”

As the mercenaries entered the manor Navosi took a moment to recline against Chun-Ook’s cabin door. He was thinking of the 2000 septims already in his pouch, and 2000 more to come. He thinks; I might take a vacation, a nice stay-at-home vacation. Make my wife happy. We’ll carouse at the Six Fishes, or perhaps join that drunkard on the beach. I’ve been working too hard, spending too much time at sea. Maybe I can get a job in the East Empire Company—I could handle logistics, coordinate shipping. And I shouldn’t have to leave Ebonheart, I don’t think…

Suddenly he is aware of a tremendous silence. Moving those crates should be noisy work, and hey, shouldn’t they have a couple of them out here by now? How long has it been? Ten minutes? Twenty? And what happened to that light?

Nevosi started to call out, but decided against it. No, that wouldn’t do. Instead, the shipmaster pulled out his cutlass, walked quietly across the deck, and cut the line securing Chun-Ook to the dock. A warm breeze kicked up out of the southwest, and Chun-Ook drifted away from the darkened manor house and mainland Morrowind.

This post has been edited by canis216: Oct 17 2006, 08:11 AM