Shiver, I know... I know... Options

[Zelda_Zealot]

Before I start, try to figure out who this is about, and where I will be going with this before the end. The name of my character would be at the end but I edited it out, don't worry, I will put it in if someone gets it, and where it is going it hinted at in the title.





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I arrived in Cyrodiil late into the evening, and had to hike even longer to reach the first settlement I could find, The Imperial Bridge Inn, with little more then the shirt on my back, and the sword in my hand. Here in Cyrodiil I was nameless, in Vvardenfell however, I they called me the Nerevarine.

I have left Morrowind in an attempt to start a new, humble life, away from the worship, away from the awe, shock, and, in some cases, hatred. I could not even walk down to the local general goods store to buy breakfast without several people dropping to their knees in reverence. Therefore, I decided to leave. I would lock-up my house, say good-bye to my friends, and leave Morrowind for the first and last time.

As I said previously, it was late when I finally arrived in Cyrodiil, and even later when I collapsed onto one of the benches in front of the nearest inn. The moons were high in the sky, and even the birds had stopped chirping for the night. Doubtless, the proprietor of the establishment had already settled down for the evening, and was off exploring new lands in their dreams. Therefore, I opted to just lie down on the bench for the night, and rent a room in the morning. Besides, I doubt I had the energy to tear myself off this bench.

"Who is he?"

Why do they not know who I am?

"I do not know; he looks vaguely familiar though…"

Everyone knows me; they worship me…

"Awful nice of him to sleep out here instead of waking me to rent a room."

I know I am awful, please do not remind me.

"Maybe he was delirious and did not know this was an inn."

In where? In here?

"Oh, don't be so mean Lithy!"

No! Don't send the Liches after me! Please!

"Do you think we should wake him Lith?"

Please don't wake the Liches; they look so peaceful.

"I think we should get the guard out here first, just in case."

Where is this case? Where did you put it?

"Oh you think everyone is either insane or heartless! What about me? Have I not taken you in here when creatures attacked your cave?

How do they know about my past?

"That was different…"

Yes, let's put our differences aside.

"And how is that?"

Well we just have to ignore our differences, and talk this out.

"…I have my reason to trust you, and I prefer to keep them to myself."

I am so glad you Liches trust me; I don't know what I would do without you all.

"Well you keep them to yourself, I, however, am going to wake him."

Whom will you wake? No one is sleeping.

"No Davela! Don't!"

My eyes bolted open, and the first thing I saw was a beautiful Dunmer woman, smiling at me. Just behind her was an Altmer in a worn tan robe, standing with his arms crossed and a light glare on his face.

"Well good morning!" the Dunmer told me cheerfully.

"Is it morning already? It feels like I just lied down," I replied glumly as I sat up.

"I am afraid it is. If you would like, I could rent you a room, I just need a name and a few gold," she said, cheerful as ever.

"That's fine, I could just use some breakfast. I will get a room tonight."

"Well if you are sure. Why don't you get up and come inside, and I will get you something to eat."

Slowly I pulled my aching body off the bench, "Who is your friend?" I asked her on the way up.

"His name is Lithnilian, but we call him Lithy, less of a mouthful."

I looked at him for a moment, trying to understand why he looked to upset. Perhaps he was a distrusting fellow; maybe he did not like strangers. Nevertheless, I gave him a cheerful smile and a nod, which he did not return, and made my way over to the door following the Dunmer.

The inside of the inn was a little small, but cozy, and looked like the place you would want to snuggle up next to a roaring fire with a good book, and read away a rainy afternoon. There was bar opposite the fireplace that the Dunmer motioned me to, it was a wooden bar, but well made, and I doubt it would be falling apart anytime soon.

"So what can I get you? We have bread, soup, cheese, ham, fruit, and some rotting venison in the back, but I doubt you want that," she said without prompt.

"Just some bread and cheese thank you. What is your name? I know your friends, but yours is still a mystery," I asked her as she grabbed my food.

"Davela Hlaren, how about yours?"

I stood off my stool, gave her a short, mock bow, and told her, "Larrius Varro. At your service."


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So did anyone figure it out? You get a if you did.
I had some problems trying to create a good twist for my new chapter in Sanity (Which I went through, but want to add something new to it, like I did last time), so I decided to start on something I have been meaning to do for awhile, and was only possable with my "new" laptop.

Please let me know what you think.



This post has been edited by Zelda_Zealot: Mar 26 2007, 06:22 PM

[Zelda_Zealot]

Here is some more that I promised you all.

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The bits and pieces of the door lay on the ground, sizzling with the surge of electricity that separated them. Just outside the doorway was the mage whom had cast the spell. I was on the floor, next to what remained of the door, sitting dumbfounded, back up against the wall. All this and more flew through my head and it was not until the fact that the mage was casting another spell that I came to senses.

Rolling to my left I tumbled down the short stairway, narrowly avoiding the second bolt of lightning the mage threw my way. I heard the clink-clank of armor on stone, and leapt to my feet. The armored man turned the short corner at the base of the stairs and shot me a glare as he pulled a large battle-axe off his back.

This could have been an easy fight if I had my sword with me, but, not knowing I would have heavily armed foes to deal with today, I had foolishly left if upstairs. So thus, I steeled myself for the battle to come.

It did not take long for the axe wielding man to attack, and when he did, he struck with the ferocity of an Orc. Of course, I later found out that he was an Orc, but that is not the point… On the other hand, maybe it is, I do not know, I was fighting him, not quizzing him on his the point of a sentence.

The axe hit the ground with a thud, a moment after I jumped back to avoid the blow. My eyes fleeted from object to object as I searched for a weapon of any kind, and I did not want to leave Davela and Lithnilian down here alone, as I did not know just whom they were after.

My eyes locked in on a knife left on the table from last night, thank the gods Davela felt sick last night and did not clean up properly. Deftly rolling to my right, and thus dodging another swing of the axe, I grabbed the blade of the table, and went to work.

While I normally prefer a long sword, there are many advantages to using a shorter weapon. For one, swinging a huge claymore in an enclosed space is rather hazardous to all but, and sometimes including, the wielder. In addition, a shorter blade has the double advantage of being faster and much more accurate to a skilled user.

So thus, I had a quite the advantage over the Orc. Nevertheless, he had the power, and he knew how to use it.

The Orc swung again, narrowly missing my neck, and gave me the cue to strike. Ducking underneath his outstretched arms, I quickly introduced my fist with his jaw, and slid the knife between his armor.

The Orc stood there for a moment, speechless, though for an Orc this is not saying much, before I struck again. Having no need for it anymore, I dropped the bloody knife, and spun on the ball of my foot, forcing the hell of the other foot into his chest. The attacker stumbled back, crashing into the bar I later found out Davela had made by hand, and thus, according to Lithnilian, was not as sturdy as I had thought.

Cautiously, I approached the dying Orc.

"Why did you attack me?" I asked him. However, my efforts to coerce him into talking were in vain, he died with out revealing a single thing. With a sigh, I searched his body, looking for anything that might answer my questions. A letter, a writ of execution, anything. Again, my efforts were in vain, he bore no letter, no writ, nothing.

My head hung in sorrow for a moment before I remembered that my job was not yet finished. Upon telling Davela and Lithnilian to stay put, I snuck quietly to the shattered door and peeked out. Nothing, the mage was gone. I searched the immediate area before I was satisfied he was not waiting in ambush. It was then that I noticed the letter on the ground.

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I will have some more up soon, first I need to actually write the letter. Oh, and one more thing. There is not much more I have planed for this chapter (But seeing the Davela Lithnilian relationship was a spur of the moment type thing, that might change), and I wanted to know. Should I continue posting in this topic, or should I make a new one?

EDIT: Here is the rest of the chapter, now, should I make a new topic, or continue posting in this one? I would like to know before I continue writing.

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Dearest Larrius,

You may wonder why I sent two assassins (If you can even call those clumsy fools assassins) to greet you to Cyrodiil. Before I tell you, you must first understand what it is that I do. I am in the business of eliminating the unworthy. You may believe that I mean to say I am an assassin. Moreover, while that assumption is correct in a sense, I do not kill for money, instead, I kill for justice.

You may now be wondering why then, I would be sending assassins to your current place of residence. That is something you must figure out on your own, you must find out why I would want you dead. Why would anyone want to kill Larrius Varro? The Nerevarine, the one who has slain two of the Tribunal, one who has defeated a Daedra lord even. Why would someone want you dead? Ponder that, and while you do, you might want to consider choosing a new place to live. Unless of course you want your new friends to be slaughtered during your fight with the next wave of assassins.

Doubtless, you have found this note on the ground, instead of on the body of one of my assassins. If you have, then kill the treacherous filth if you get a chance, he will not have the courage to come back and face me.

I will see you soon enough.

Signed:

The one they call, The Madman.




This post has been edited by Zelda_Zealot: Apr 11 2007, 01:23 AM