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.

[jack cloudy]

Not exactly short, but this idea popped up in my head and I had to write it.




Interview with a dungeoneer.
By W. Riter.

It was a cold afternoon in Chorrol. The daily prayer at the temple of Stendarr had ended and together with the rest of the citizenry, I filed out of the grand building. As I walked across the streets, I exchanged smalltalk with those I knew. Nothing noteworthy except perhaps a thing Chanel, the countesses personal mage, told me.
,,I’ve finished your painting. It’s on your doorstep.”

Apart from being a mage, the Redguard was also quite well-known as a painter. I’d already ordered several paintings from her before and none of them had disappointed. Eager to see her latest achievement, I hurried to my home where I saw a package lying on my doorstep, just as told. I took it inside and unwrapped it, delighted at her drawing of Cyrodiil as seen from a nearby mountain, surrounded by the lake which looked like a sea of gold in the reflection of the sun. It had soon found itself a prominent place in my study, where it hangs till this very day.

This would have been the end of an otherwise unexciting day, if it weren’t for my visitor who arrived late in the night. A reluctant nod preceded his arrival. I had no idea who might be out this late, so I opened the door with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. An old man with a hunched back stood on my doorstep, dressed in simple clothing like a pilgrim.
,,Are you William Riter, the writer?” He asked. I nodded and opened the door wider so he could enter, inwardly chuckling at the wordplay. W. Riter, the writer. It was a small detail about my profession that never failed to amuse me.

Once the man had ventured inside my well-lit home, I managed to get a better look at him. While he wasn’t any bigger than I was in his current bent posture, I realized that if he stood straight, his head would reach up to the ceiling. The faded relic of a blue tattoo shaped like a bear’s paw covered most of his face. His hands bore the scars of heavy labour on the field, or perhaps heavy combat on the battlefield. His eyes shone with a perceptive gleam, which made me decide on the battlefield. He was a warrior, a retired one.

,,Welcome to Arborwatch. What can I do for you?” I asked in a courteous manner. The old Nord walked to the fireplace where he warmed his hands.
,,I heard you write stories. Not made-up stories, but stories of real people. I’ve come to tell my tale, for I think it is one worthy to be told.” He explained. I looked over him in silence. If it was his life’s story he wanted to tell me, who was I to refuse? Besides, he’d come here by himself which was enough to catch my interest. As such, I invited him to the living room where I provided him with a hearty goblet of brandy. He sat down in one chair and I in the opposite one.

,,It would be my pleasure to hear your tale. Feel free to begin.” I told him. The Nord looked at the ceiling for a moment, making up his mind of where to start.
,,I go by the name of Kersten Bear-Fang. My life was normal for a Nord till I reached adulthood at which point I took after my father and wandered the countryside as a knight, righting wrongs and protecting the weak.” He began, still gazing at the ceiling. I waited patiently for him to continue.
,,I spent a lot of time in caves, tombs and other places. Yes, now I see. That’s what I came to talk about. Not my life, which is surely the same as that of all other adventurers. No, I came here to explain about the art of venturing into the places of darkness. Advice from the old to the young. I bear many scars as a result of my mistakes. It is better if those mistakes won’t be repeated.”

I was slightly disappointed. I had been more interested in this man’s life than in his knowledge about tombs, caves and other places I’d rather not think about. Still, I understood his desire and I would not stop him. After all, there’s little to write about people who die before they’ve done a single deed of heroism.
,,Please go on. Any tips for those who are starting out?” I asked him, subtly nudging him in the right direction.

He stroke his beard with one hand and shook the now empty goblet with the other.
,,First of all, know where you’re going before you’re going. If you have a specific location in mind, perhaps because you heard about it from the locals, try to get more information. You want to know exactly where it lies, so you won’t have to spent time searching. You also want to know what to expect. I can’t stress this fact. I’ve seen many great men and women die because they didn’t know what they were getting into. I’ve made this mistake many times myself and it nearly cost me my life every single time. One important thing to know is what kind of opposition you’ll see. If undead or supernatural beings, get yourself an enchanted weapon or you’ll be unable to even scratch them.”
My quill danced across the scroll, making notes with soft scratching noises.
,,And then, after you’ve found enough information?” I asked, licking the plumed end of my quill.

,,You can never have enough information but there comes a time when you have to stop asking and start doing. Make sure you are prepared. Fix your weapons, count your potions. Getting in is hard, but getting back outside if your sword breaks halfway through is practically impossible unless you’re a monk or a mage with Magicka to burn. I can also advice to let the task of preparing be done by an expert if you doubt your own abilities. Sure, they charge a price but no price is higher than the one you pay if you die. Make sure you have a way of fighting both at melee and at longer distances. If you can avoid a hard fight by shooting an arrow while hidden by the shadows, do so. You only live once and even a goblin can kill you if you don’t know what you’re doing. Once you’ve prepared, it is time to enter.”

He put down the goblet and folded his hands into a cup.
,,Decide how you want to enter. Do you want to be intimidating, frighten whatever is in there to weaken any resistance you might encounter? Or do you want to go in quietly, so you can take down your foes without them even knowing you’re there? If it is the first one, I’d suggest to bash in the door with brute force and give a good howl if you’re a warrior or blowing it up with a spell if you’re a mage. If you go for stealth, you should open the door slowly so it doesn’t make a sound, slip through and close it after you’ve scanned the area. If anyone comes by and sees the door closed, he won’t know someone’s come through.”
I took the chance to interrupt him.
,,Entering with a bang or with a whisper. What is your preference?” I asked him.
,,That depends on what is in there. If my enemies are humans, I go in with a bang and freeze their blood with the might of my voice so they think a whole legion descends on them rather than one man. If my enemies are beasts though, I enter with a whisper, hard as it might be when wearing full plate armour. They won’t understand what I’m saying anyway so it’s hard to scare them away.”

I nodded, satisfied with the answer. This was turning out to be quite interesting.
,,Once you’re inside, you’ve gotten to the worst part of any quest. You need to keep your eyes open, your ears alert for any sound and your preferred object of death ready in your hand at all times. Be prepared for darkness. Some people suggest you carry a torch though I don’t see how a torch is helpful when trying to be stealthy. Walking around like a walking beacon of light is bad for your health. You should get a spell or item that can enhance your seeing instead. The mage guilds are a good source for this. Likewise, enchanted items tend to radiate light. You can paint them black to avoid this.” He paused for a time, lost in deep thought. I was beginning to wonder if he was now going to suggest a particular brand of paint when he continued.

,,If you have a map, that’s great. If not, you need to explore on your own. Your path is likely to branch out into multiple directions. Take the ones that are the least used first. Any opposition you find there is likely to be light and it will take a while before the corpses will be discovered there. Only after you’ve nibbled at the edges like that should you go to the heart of it. It is there that you’re likely to find the hardest opposition. If your enemies are human or even simply humanoid, like Goblins, see if you can take out the leader first with an arrow or a spell. Nothing breaks a cohesive group better than removing their leadership and lowering their morale. You should also take the fight to a more advantageous location, for example a narrow corridor where only one can reach you at a time. If you take your time and keep your head cool, you’ll find that what once seemed impossible is now very much possible. Once you’ve cleared out everything that moves, get the loot or the damsel in distress and head back for the entrance but don’t let your guard down yet. Nothing is more embarrassing than getting killed because you forgot about that one guy who ran away but came back to guard the door.”

He leaned back in his chair and I refilled his goblet for him. The talking had given him a sour throat.
,,And once you’re outside, is there still something to do?” I asked after letting him enjoy the beverage for a while. He smirked and leaned over so he had my full attention.
,,Once outside, you get to the most important thing of all. Get to town, claim your pay if you were hired and then get to the nearest pub and enjoy a good drink. You’ve deserved it.”