Interregnum, 854 of the Second Era Options

[treydog]

“Though the title is a bit macabre,” he said, “I am known as the King of Worms, and you come highly recommended.”

That is a brilliant way to end an installment.

The whole scene between Renald and "Erinwe" (why do I have a feeling we might know her under a different name?) is incredible.

Then we have the return of the Direnni and their council (conspiracy?) session. And Talos' preparations.... Everything is drawn so well that I can "see" it all.

"They were still there. He could feel the sound in his head. He could see the burning wolves when he closed his eyes. They rode back to the winding path. He turned and looked past the dead man and the dead elf to the valley. He knew those wolves would follow him for the rest of his life."

If I ever grow up (doubtful), I want to write like that!

And finally, the negotiations (sweetroll and all!), along with the young Captain's insights.

This is story-telling on a grand scale, yet you manage to make the characters 3-dimensional and fully-realized.

[mALX]

I am depressed, out right bummed
from no updates on Interrignum
Sitting, waiting, sad and blue
for any updates that come from you

[Destri Melarg]

The Sweetroll Negotiations! Yes, I remember Acadian's comment about the role the common, humble sweetroll played in this parley from the other forum.

Did you rewrite this chapter a little?

haute - You have officially given name to this section of the story. 'The Sweetroll Negotiations', I love it!

I have rewritten this chapter a little, most notably the comments made by Ri’Dargo about the Khajiit cultural affinity for ambition, which to my way of thinking they would equate with courage and daring.

I kept in mind the metaphor of the carrot and the stick during the writing of this chapter. Talos chose the location for the parlay with the express purpose of keeping his adversary off balance and ever mindful of the terrible price the Khajiit had paid the night before trying to seize a single fort on the Cyrodiil border. The fact that you describe Talos’ attitude during the negotiations as ‘bone-chilling’ is exactly what I was going for. Thank you.

A very interesting situation, one that reminds me of Caesar in his last years in Gaul, when it was becoming apparent to everyone that his ambition to become First Man in Rome was finally matched by his actual ability to make it so.

Are you a Farscape fan by chance? The name Ri’Dargo immediately makes me think of Ka D'Argo.

nits:
Considering the circumstances, Lord RiDargo, I would advise you to mind your tongue.
You missed the apostrophe in Dargo's name.

SubRosa - Once again you have skewered my intention. I have always seen Talos as Tamriel’s version of Caesar, and I have tried to imbue Cuhlecain with aspects of Pompey. Think about it, Cuhlecain is the one who ‘discovered’ the tactical genius of Hjalti Early-Beard and lifted him up so that he could become Talos Stormcrown. I think it makes for a far more interesting story if the would be Emperor of Tamriel sows the seeds of his own destruction during those early battles at Old Hrol’dan.

I am of course familiar with Farscape, but I have never seen an episode. Ri’Dargo came from the etymology of Khajiit names in which the prefix ‘Ri’ is a sign of status, like a tribal elder, and the name Dargo is a contraction of the name of the first Khajiit I ever encountered in an Elder Scrolls game. He was a slave named Baadargo in the smuggler’s cave outside of Seyda Neen in Morrowind.

And thank you for locating my wayward apostrophe. It has been addressed.

Or a third time.....
Seriously, I know you stated you changed little things, things other people wouldnt notice but I feel it's the little things that made the story EVEN better. Like the first chapter. I remember being impressed the first time but by the Nine.... it's epic now!

Remko - I think it’s safe to say that you have earned the ‘Long Suffering Merit Badge’ for slogging through this beast THREE times! By now you probably know this story better than I do. I am so glad that the rewrites are making the story better for you. One of the best things about bringing this story to a new board is that I get to address issues that I wasn’t too happy with in the original version . . . like that first chapter.

Ah yes, once again, the sweetcake has stolen my heart. I am so pleased you kept the little fellow in this new version. Wonderful stuff as always Destri!

Acadian - Are you kidding? I would have dropped Ri’Dargo from the story before I got rid of the sweetroll! During the rough draft that poor little thing must have changed hands at least a dozen times. It was beginning to border on the ridiculous! I had to cut it down considerably to get it to the point that it is now.

By the way, WOW!!! The new Buffy is SMOKIN’ HOT!!!!

More, Destri, more. Now !!!!!

Winter Wolf - I hereby proclaim myself the pot calling the kettle. Here I am, extolling you to write faster, and then I leave you for two weeks without an update! I will try to address that over the weekend. For now I need to get caught up with Aradroth and, rest assured, your ‘more’ is coming.

If I ever grow up (doubtful), I want to write like that!

And finally, the negotiations (sweetroll and all!), along with the young Captain's insights.

This is story-telling on a grand scale, yet you manage to make the characters 3-dimensional and fully-realized.

treydog - It is always so nice when you drop by Interregnum. There is always a chair near the fire left open for you (or would you prefer a rug?). I am humbled by your comments; from a writer of your proven ability they mean a lot!

When I grow up I want to write like treydog.

No, I was complaining that you answered everyone's comment but mine at the head of the previous chapter, ROFL !!!!! - just kidding, obviously.

mALX - First things first, it was inexcusable for me to ignore your comment from before. Allow me to address it now:

ARGH!!! A TEASER !!!!!!! ARGH!

I loved this chapter before and still do - the beginnings of the K'Sharra Prophecy !!! You ROCK !!!

You can blame Remko and SubRosa for the teaser. They were the ones who asked me if there was going to be anything new added to Interregnum.

As for the K’Sharra Prophecy, I first envisioned this chapter through the final line that Dar’Zhan says to his son, so the germ of the idea began with K’sharra. From there everything else was put into the chapter to serve that final line. Thankfully it all seems to work.

Now for your latest comment:

I am depressed, out right bummed
from no updates on Interrignum
Sitting, waiting, sad and blue
for any updates that come from you

I feel as if I have achieved some rite of passage! Who knew that absence was the surest way to illicit a poem from you. Reading it brought a much needed ray of sunlight into what has been a gray, dreary November in my soul for the past few weeks, thank you for that. You're the one that ROCKS, mALX!

I am sorry that I have made you wait so long. As I told Winter Wolf, I hope to address that issue this weekend.

_____

Everyone – Thank you all for your comments. I am sorry that it has taken me so long to respond. I find myself tied to the tracks of circumstance with a deadline bearing down on me like a freight train. The last few weeks have been without social interaction (or very much sleep) of any kind. The good news is that I anticipate a window of time this weekend in which I can try to get caught up with the exploits of Maxical & Shivani, Julian, Teresa, Rales & Zerina, Aradroth, Athlain & Athynae, Firen, and anyone else that I am unforgivably forgetting right now. But as that great unrecognized sage, the Reverend Al Swearengen once said:

“Announcing your plans is a good way to hear God laugh.”

More Interregnum coming soon . . . I promise.

[mALX]

The email made its normal ping
to let me know I had something
I looked to see what it could be
and leaped up whooping when I saw "Destri"

Yeah !!!!!!!!

[Destri Melarg]

Book Two: Sun’s Dawn


1st Sun’s Dawn, 2E 854
The Nameless Tavern, Sentinel, Hammerfell
Evening


He may have been the largest Nord to ever venture out of Skyrim. He sat with his legs splayed under the table and drained a full tankard of mead with two long tilts of the elbow. The sound that his steel gauntlet made when he slammed his fist against the table drew hooded stares from the darker patrons. But one look at his size or at the battered head of the silver mace that hung from his hip cowed them back into their drinks.

“More mead,” his voice reverberated through the noise of the tavern and bent the barman to his purpose.

The Nord’s companion was fair of complexion and of average height by the standards of High Rock, which is to say that he was short. He wore a weather-stained green tunic over battered mail. At his side the hilt of a silver longsword caught and reflected the light from the candles which dimly lit the inside of the tavern. He held a full goblet to his chest, away from the table which had already started to wobble being subject to the Nord’s fits of temper.

The tavern itself gave stage to the carousing of loud, overbearing sailors while also lending itself as the location that sullen mercenaries sought for drinking and brooding. Here and there a few flinty-eyed specimens of the merchant class moved amongst the rough trade, for it was a well known fact that if you had goods to move or goods to protect, you could find the means to do it in the Nameless Tavern.

“He should be here soon,” said the Breton, he had to raise his voice to be heard across the table.

“You said that an hour ago,” boomed the Nord. “We could have been in Anticlere by now. Maybe even Vermeir, staring up at the Wrothgarians if not for this unnecessary detour.”

“You may be right,” said the Breton, “but say that we were at the base of the Wrothgarians, where would we go from there? Our quarry might be in Cyrodiil by now for all we know. I for one would rather set our feet to purpose than wander blindly through Sun’s Dawn in the mountains.”

Any comment the Nord was about to make was interrupted by a serving wench who appeared with another tankard of mead. With shaking hand she set it on the table. Sweat beaded her brown, Redguard forehead and her eyes were akin to the doe that has just caught the scent of a predator.

After she withdrew the Nord lifted the tankard and drank deep. His brow still held to the scowl, but the fire in his eyes had been replaced with resignation. “What makes you think this friend of yours knows more than we do?”

The Breton rose from his chair; his eyes were focused on the entrance to the tavern, “you can ask him that yourself.”

The Nord turned in his seat. A broad-shouldered, lean silhouette of a man stood shadowed in the doorway. Most of the other patrons barely noted his entrance. However, as he shut the door behind him and the candles lent light to his dark features conversations at all the tables stopped, movement through the tavern was aborted, and there was a new smell that mingled with the sweat and smoke that had seemed almost oppressive in the moments before his arrival. The Nord had no problem identifying it.

Fear.

The newcomer paused, his eyes adjusting to the dim light of the tavern. The Nord studied him from across the room. He was a Redguard, young for the amount of turmoil his presence caused in the room. Yet he carried himself like a man accustomed to defending his honor. He wore a scarlet vest over an unbuttoned white shirt; his black trousers were tucked into high black leather boots that were made for riding. A steel cutlass dangled easily on his right hip, and a matching dagger was tucked into the belt on his left. If it bothered him that his presence alone caused most of the other patrons to move hands towards the hilts of weapons he gave no indication of it. The Nord could appreciate such courage, but that didn’t make him feel less uneasy about this meeting.

The Redguard spotted the Nord’s companion and gave a nod of greeting. He crossed the tavern toward their table. The other patrons returned to their own pursuits at his passing, but every eye remained trained upon his movements. The Nord brought his wayward legs into formation, to lift him from the chair should the need arise. The Breton noticed, but that only caused the smile that was already spreading across his face to grow.

The Redguard reached their table, his eyes sought out the Breton’s.

“Alain,” he said with a smile that matched the Breton’s. He extended his right arm. “Praise be to Arkay that you survived Sancre Tor. When the news reached us I feared the worst.”

Alain clasped the Redguard’s forearm. “Casnar my friend, it is good to see you again. I understand congratulations are in order. A Knight of the Moon at your age, that is quite impressive.” He released Casnar’s arm and motioned toward the third chair at the table.

Casnar gave a slight bow to acknowledge Alain’s hospitality and sat down. “I would advise you to keep your voice down, old friend. This is a Forebear tavern, the last thing that any of these men want to see is one of the Crown’s chosen, hence my appearance before you out of uniform.”

“A disguise that clearly seems to be working,” said the Nord as he drained the dregs from another tankard.

“Forgive me, Casnar,” said Alain, “allow me to introduce my friend, Sir Valdemar of Skyrim.” He turned to the Nord. “Valdemar, this is Sir Casnar, a friend of my youth.”

“Redguard,” said Valdemar.

“Nord,” said Casnar.

“Have things really grown so bad?” asked Alain, trying to allay the tension at the table.

“They have,” said Casnar. “We are fighting battles on many fronts. The Forebears will have civil war before they submit to the Na’Totambu. Attacks of the Selenu have grown more frequent, and have begun to occur within the city walls. And, as if that weren’t enough, now we have to deal with the misguided actions of Zenithar’s flock.”

Alain shook his head. His eyes were attentive, but blank.

“Some priests of Zenithar have decided to stake out territory here in Arkay’s region,” Casnar explained. “They call themselves the Knights of Iron. Many Forebears see them as a natural rival to the Knights of the Moon, Zenithar being held in such high esteem by most Forebears.”

“Who are the Selenu?” asked Alain.

“The local vampire clan,” said Casnar, “it used to be that you could expect an attack or two a month inland. And the disappearance of a few beggars now and again was something that the Crown was willing to turn a blind eye to. But of late the attacks have increased. I have heard rumors that a new matron holds the ear of the patriarch but we know nothing for sure.”

“I am sure this is all very interesting,” said Valdemar, “but I hope that the discussion of politics, effete gods, and vampires is not the reason that we have ventured hundreds of leagues out of our way.” He held his tankard aloft, the barman rushed to fill another. “State yourself plain, Redguard, I grow tired of quaffing the watered down swill that passes for mead in this country.” His eyes ventured throughout the tavern. “Besides, it appears that the time grows short before your countrymen turn murderous thought into action.”

Casnar’s eyes narrowed, “in the event of such an exchange, I doubt that the two of you would find any friends in the room.”

“Forgive my friend’s manner,” said Alain, “he means no offense. Though I confess that I too wonder why you have asked us here.”

“I bear a message,” said Casnar, “one which I’m sure that even your giant friend will appreciate; the whereabouts of he whom you seek.”

Alain and Valdemar exchanged glances across the table. The serving wench returned with three tankards weighing down her tray. She set one in front of each man before backing away from the table.

“How is it that you know that we seek anyone?” asked Valdemar.

Casnar laughed. “The two of you have not been subtle. We heard tell of a Nord and a Breton allied in desperate search over a year ago. Since then your exploits have been the source of whispered rumor from here to the Reach I would imagine.”

“You have known of our search for a year and only now seek me out?” asked Alain.

“You misunderstand, the information that I have only recently came into my possession, along with instructions to pass it on to the two of you.”

“Who gave you these instructions?” asked Alain.

“That I am not at liberty to say.”

“We could force the information from you,” said Valdemar.

Casnar laughed again, “I don’t doubt it, but to what end? If the information proves good, then the end of your search will soon be at hand. If the information proves false, then you are out nothing save a week of your, ahem, valuable time and the expense of drinking some watered down mead.”

Valdemar lifted his tankard from the table. Alain was still holding his goblet. He stared down at the tankard in front of him.

“But I don’t even like mead,” he said.

Casnar’s eyes widened. His arm shot out, the hand covering the mouth of Valdemar’s tankard before the Nord could bend it back.

“Hold,” he said.

Valdemar lowered the tankard; his face bore a puzzled look. The tavern was strangely silent. Casnar looked to the bar, but the barman and the serving wench were gone, as were all the members of the merchant class. Around them the patrons of the tavern began to rise. The silence was broken by the sounds of swords, dirks and axes being drawn.

“I think thought just turned into action,” said Alain.

Valdemar rose, his hand sought the hilt of his mace.

“Good,” he said.

This post has been edited by Destri Melarg: Dec 12 2010, 11:50 AM

[haute ecole rider]

Yay! Alain and Valdemar! And now you've added Casnar, too? Will Rielus make an appearance, as well? That would totally make my day - those are my four favorite undead! You have done a wonderful job bringing these three to life. Necromancer!

You have captured the atmosphere of the inn in Sentinel, especially since it occurs around the time of Cyrus. I loved your summary of the political situation in Hammerfell - the civil war between the Crowns and the Forebears.

I loved these bookends:

“Besides, it appears that the time grows short before your countrymen turn murderous thought into action.”

“I think thought just turned into action,”

Good job!

[mALX]

ARGH! You are re-writing this? Cutting it? AAAARRRRGGGHHHH !!!!! I love this, but....but...WAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!


Unless of course this is an additional scene added in, in which case... YEAH !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This post has been edited by mALX: May 11 2010, 01:39 AM

[SubRosa]

Woo Hoo! the interregnum of Interregnum is over, and we are now back in action!

My you have certainly switched gears here to what I can only describe as Fantasy Noir. The rough and seedy tavern, ruffians loaded with more testosterone than Pamplona during the running of the bulls, flinty-eyed merchants and sweaty wenches. I almost expect to see Humphrey Bogart (or would he be the Breton of average height, which is to say, short... )

You display quite a bit of writing chops by changing up your style with this entry, and pulling it off with such polish. That is not easy to do. In doing so you create a very different mood from the other pieces of the story, making Alain, Valdemar, and Casnar (will we see Rielus soon?) stand out from the other characters. I look forward to not only seeing Valdemar and Alain finding their quarry, but also seeing how they and Casnar eventually become Blades.

I will not quote the same passages that h.e.r. did, which were quite good. Suffice to say "what she said" for me too!

[Winter Wolf]

Welcome back Destri. You have risen from the grave just like the characters in your story.

The way you weave a tale is second to none, and tons of atmosphere to boot. Awesome !!
I loved the way the tavern came to life in your hands, and that wench in the background seems to miss nothing. (!!)

So cool to see that you are re-writing a few of the chapters. I know the feeling, it is unsettling to have the chapter not quite sit the way it should. It is great fun to try and spot the changes.

He held a full goblet to his chest, away from the table which had already started to wobble being subject to the Nord’s fits of temper.

A lovely finish to the sentence. Bravo.

[Remko]

Ooohh nice, a new piece

[Olen]

I love it

The atmosphere built steadily and well until the brooding finally snapped in a cliffhanger. The dark feeling and tension in the place were excellently done. Your characterisation is effective too, escpecially the final line just paints a perfect picture of the nord.

I know nothing about this section of Tamriel's history and will have to go and read about it when I have time to have a better idea of what's happening.

[Destri Melarg]

haute – Rielus will indeed be making an appearance, but not for a while yet. You are in part responsible for this chapter. I remembered how much you enjoyed Alain and Valdemar in the last version of this story so I decided to introduce them earlier in this version. As you know I have never advanced through the main quest to the point where these characters are encountered in Sancre Tor. I only know how they end up through reading, which I think is kind of a blessing because it allows me to depict these men as the characters I think they should be, rather than the characters that the game gives us.

mALX – Have no fear, consider this chapter ‘in addition to’ as opposed to ‘instead of’. Interregnum remains more or less as you remember it, but there will be some new chapters that never made it into the original. I can think of at least one more for the month of Sun’s Dawn. Stay tuned.

SubRosa – ‘The interregnum of Interregnum’ made me laugh. Bogey is my all time favorite actor (he and I share a birthday, you know), and somehow every time I write a scene set in a tavern I always wind up back at Ricks. Not the clean, lively Ricks where Renault cheats at roulette and Victor Laszlo leads the band. But the shadowy, quiet Ricks where diamonds are a glut on the market and there are vultures, vultures everywhere.

Winter Wolf – So haute has me as a necromancer, and you have me rising from the grave. What is going on here! To (badly) paraphrase Mark Twain: reports of my death are exaggerated.

I am glad that you enjoy spotting the changes. Part of the motivation for rewriting existing chapters and adding in new ones is the paralyzing fear that my loyal, long suffering readers might get bored re-walking the same road.

Remko – I couldn’t imagine asking you to make your THIRD voyage with us without re-arranging the deck chairs changing some of the sheets.

Olen – I think the reason Valdemar seems to stand out has to do with the fact that he is just so much fun to write. Some characters have to be coaxed into existence. Valdemar broke down the door, walked into the room, and put his feet up on the table.

If you’re interested in the historic and socio-political situation in Hammerfell at the end of the Second Era (and who isn’t?), this is a good place to start.

[haute ecole rider]

Olen – I think the reason Valdemar seems to stand out has to do with the fact that he is just so much fun to write. Some characters have to be coaxed into existence. Valdemar broke down the door, walked into the room, and put his feet up on the table.

To be honest, he's that way during the Sancre Tor quest as well. I think he is the most defined character of the four in the entire dump.

I have enjoyed Destri's fleshing out (pun intended) of four ghostly Blades. Valdemar has needed the least help, IMHO. And yes, he would be one of those characters that commandeer your keyboard and run with it, and you (as the writer) are helpless against him.

The results are delectable for this reader.

[mALX]

Whew! I thought you were cutting out a whole 4 pages from the original story and was freaking out!! Lol.

This post has been edited by mALX: May 12 2010, 07:31 PM

[Acadian]

As rich and descriptively evocative as ever, my friend. What a talent you are! That tavern came alive.

[Destri Melarg]

Acadian - A kind word from you is always welcome, my friend. I am glad that you enjoyed it.

_____

1st Sun’s Dawn, 2E 854
The Nameless Tavern, Sentinel, Hammerfell
Evening


For a brief moment the tavern was quiet. Every eye was trained on the airborne sailor who flew in a shallow arc that scraped against the ceiling. His body twitched in mid-air before it was reclaimed by Nirn’s gravity and brought crashing into a table near the door. The table collapsed under the unwelcome weight, throwing half empty tankards of ale and mead like shrapnel at those who stood near. The impact was such that it doused all the candles on that side of the room. In the dim light that remained the sailor’s body lay spread eagle on the table top, which tilted up toward the wall at an angle. His head flopped over the edge near the wall, as if held to the body by the skin of his neck alone. He gave one last spasmodic twitch, and then he moved no more.

As one the remaining heads in the tavern turned toward the direction from which the sailor had come. A giant Nord brandishing a battered silver mace stood before them. Though his features were cast into shadow, his eyes caught the light from the few remaining candles and shined with menace, and amusement.

“Who’s next?” asked Sir Valdemar.

Alain and Casnar rose from the table behind him. They stepped forward, unsheathing their swords.

Bedlam followed, the three knights were silent witness to an explosion of activity. Curses were thrown from the shadows with the same frequency as fists and elbows as more than a dozen sailors scraped, clawed, and fought with each other to be the first to bid a hasty retreat. By the time the dust settled and the sound of churning boots had faded into the night, the number of their assailants had been whittled down to five confused mercenaries whose hands still held to their weapons.

“Five stout-hearted souls,” said Valdemar, “I guess that’s better than nothing.”

“Actually there are six,” said Alain, “if you count the one on the table.”

Casnar addressed himself to the mercenaries. “You men are about to commit an assault against the Crown. I suggest you sheath your weapons and go about your business.”

“Tsun’s shield, Redguard!” Valdemar spat on the floor, “must your kind take the fun out of everything?”

“My apologies, Nord,” said Casnar, sheathing his sword. He turned around and went back to the table to study one of the still full tankards of mead. He waved a dismissive hand toward the mercenaries. “Have at them then.”

Two of the mercenaries backed toward the door, then turned and ran headlong from the tavern.

“We seem to be running out of enemies,” said Alain. His sword was already returned to the scabbard. He looked at the three remaining mercenaries. “I beseech you gentlemen, stay. My friend grows belligerent with lack of exercise.”

The three mercenaries regarded the giant Nord that stood before them. Then, as one, they sheathed their weapons.

“We yield,” said one, through cracked lips in a mouth absent more than a few teeth.

“Damn!” said Valdemar.

“Our quarrel was with the Knight of the Moon,” said another, who peeked with furtive eyes around a tower shield that was larger than he was.

“Yet you chose to attack all three of us,” said Alain.

“Clearly an error in judgment,” said the third who stood closest to the door. He was taller than the rest, but so emaciated that the very sight of him moved one to pity.

“Is there not a worthy opponent in the whole of Hammerfell?” asked Valdemar. “Between the heat, the landscape, and the lack of anything substantial to drink . . . Alduin knows Yokuda must have been the hind end of Tamriel if you Redguards fled from that place and chose this place as the one to settle.”

“Forgive our impertinence,” said the thin mercenary, “we shall take our leave of you now.”

“Not so fast,” said Casnar, rising from the table. “You said your quarrel was with a Knight of the Moon. Threatening a representative of the Crown is still an offence punishable by death.”

“I see no reason to single these men out for punishment,” said Alain. “They are but three when the initial crime was committed by the whole of the tavern.” He winked at Valdemar, “perhaps a fine and a warning would suffice.”

Valdemar turned toward the mercenaries. “You men, leave all the gold you are carrying on the table.” He leveled his gaze upon the smallest mercenary before lowering his mace. “And leave that tower shield as well. Consider it ample payment for your lives.”

The three mercenaries stepped to the table. For the next few moments the only sound in the tavern was the ring of gold coins on gnarled oak. Thus unburdened, the three men disappeared into the night.

Casnar sat back down. As he looked at the small pile of gold on the table a smile spread across his lips. “Noble knights, indeed.”

“They’re alive, aren’t they?” Valdemar lifted the tower shield. He ran his hand across the surface, his head nodded at the appraisal.

“Precisely,” said Alain, “they fared better with us than they would have if left in your care. An empty purse is far more forgiving than the headsman’s axe.”

Valdemar lifted a tankard from the table. Alain sat down and bent to the purpose of stacking the coins into three even piles.

“A most charitable attitude,” said Casnar, “especially considering that they had a hand in poisoning your mead.”

The tankard stopped halfway to Valdemar’s lips. He looked down at Casnar. The Redguard gave a simple nod of his head.

“Shor’s tongue!” Valdemar flung the offending tankard across the room. It bounced off the wall and deposited its contents on the inert form of the sailor still spread-eagled on the broken table near the door. “Where is the barman? And that wench?” His hand was white-knuckled around the mace. His face had grown so hot that beads of sweat stood out like a pox upon his forehead.

Casnar bent his thumb to a door behind the bar. “My guess is that they’ve locked themselves in the storeroom. Don’t bother breaking it down. They aren’t blameless, but their actions are understandable.”

Valdemar snorted. “What happened to Sir ‘threatening a representative of the Crown’?”

“That’s just it; I am employed by the Crown, in a Forebear tavern, with a Forebear clientele, in a Forebear city.”

“Things have grown so bad,” said Alain.

Casnar nodded. “The time comes when I will either have to claim my fortune elsewhere, or prepare myself for war.”

Alain slid a pile of coins across the table. “Perhaps this will carry you closer to finding that fortune.”

“Keep it. Consider it payment for coming so far out of your way.”

“Speaking of which,” said Valdemar, “you have information for us?”

“Forgive me, Nord, I had nearly forgotten. Even as we speak the one you seek travels east. If you can gain the Reach before the end of the thaws you will have success around the city of Jehanna.”

“Jehanna,” Valdemar laughed, “along the Reach? The fetcher has courage, I’ll give him that.”

The scowl on Alain’s face stood in contrast to his friend’s amusement. “He continues to hide among those he betrayed.” He looked to Casnar. “We should compensate you for the information.”

“I am only the messenger,” said Casnar, “the one who hired me will see to my compensation.”

“May that compensation include removal from this forsaken place,” said Valdemar.

Alain scooped the coins into his purse and stood. “We should go. Ours is a long journey and time is not with us.” He extended his arm, “may our next meeting occur in happier times, and in a happier place.”

Casnar took the proffered arm. “Good luck, my friend . . . to the both of you.”

Valdemar stepped forward. “About the mead, perhaps all Redguards aren’t cowards. And I have seen many of your women that aren’t uncomely.” He leaned his new tower shield against the table and extended his arm.

Casnar laughed and stood, he clasped the giant Nord’s forearm. “Perhaps all Nords aren’t savage and artless, and I have seen parts of Skyrim where the sun does indeed shine.”

And then Casnar was alone in the tavern. He sat back down and listened to the muted sounds coming from the street. His hand reflexively wrapped around the handle of one of the tankards still on the table. He lifted it toward his lips . . . and stopped himself. He flung the tankard across the room. The sound it made hitting the floor accentuated the emptiness that he felt. He looked around at the broken tables, the upset chairs, and the goblets and tankards that littered the floor.

A smile spread across his face. What fate awaits the one they seek? He thought to himself. He raised his voice in the emptiness, for anyone with ears to hear.

“Is it the policy of this establishment to leave a man thirsty?”

This post has been edited by Destri Melarg: Dec 12 2010, 11:52 AM

[Olen]

Great conclusion to the bar scene. The opening paragraph was great, it reall grabbed my attention and then the rest didn't let go. Valdemar continues to be a great character, a shade aggressive and very entertaining.

must your kind take the fun out of everything?

I laughed, a good bit of humour really brought this piece to life. You've laid quite a few hooks there as well, I want to know more about who they seek and why. And I suspect there's more to Casnar than meets the eye...

Thanks for the link on the lore, I won't have time to read it for a week or so (exams...) but you've piques my interest enough that I will get round to it.

[mALX]

Woo Hoo! You just don't know how great it is to have you back!!!!! You have brought the Sancre Tor ghosts totally to life, it will be hard to kill them now!!! Awesome Write !!!!!!!

[Remko]

Unfortunately there is no twirl emoticon here so that one will have to purvey the message...

[haute ecole rider]

I loved the continuation of the tavern scene.

This sums up the three protagonists so well:

“Tsun’s shield, Redguard!” Valdemar spat on the floor, “must your kind take the fun out of everything?”

“My apologies, Nord,” said Casnar, sheathing his sword. He turned around and went back to the table to study one of the still full tankards of mead. He waved a dismissive hand toward the mercenaries. “Have at them then.”

Two of the mercenaries backed toward the door, then turned and ran headlong from the tavern.

“We seem to be running out of enemies,” said Alain. His sword was already returned to the scabbard. He looked at the three remaining mercenaries. “I beseech you gentlemen, stay. My friend grows belligerent with lack of exercise.”

The interplay between the three of them is absolutely priceless.

I'm left echoing the others otherwise.

I'm like Remko, I'm really missing the twirl emoticon from the other place. Maybe someone with the power here will add one? Please?