Light through Darkness, You asked for it, so here you go. Options

[Thomas Kaira]

@mALX: Kittens will be kittens, that much is certain. I'm glad you enjoyed Dere's visit the Arcane University, I'm sure it brings back many humble memories, I know it did for several other people.

@SubRosa: Faith was originally intended to be a Bosmer, but I decided against it because I felt that would make her a bit too much like Teresa. I then tried switched her to Dunmer, and my original introduction for her fit rather well, so I took it.

@Acadian: I really didn't like the way recommendations were handled in the game, and since this story is intended to convey a sense of atmosphere to the world, it just had to go. You'll probably see a lot more of this in the future, as nonlinear game mechanics don't tend to agree well with linear storytelling.

@All: Introductions are the hardest part of the writing process for me, so now that the dreaded first chapter is finally done, things should be a bit easier for me from here on out, and you should see me updating a bit more frequently.

Next: Derelas leaves for Chorrol, and a rather unpleasant encounter brings a few memories back...

Chapter 2-1: The Black Road

“Run and catch, run and catch, the lamb is caught in the Blackberry patch.”

The eerie singsong voice floated through the black halls, every so often lit with glinting blue crystals. It was drawing me, an insatiable urge to find it washed through my body.

“Blackberry falls, Blackberry falls…”

Suddenly my eyes were filled with crimson light as I turned the corner. A black figure stood at the entrance to the room… she was singing. I was hearing her voice.

“…sweet child of mine the Night recalls.”

I closed the distance, and she looked up. She smiled to me; her eyes alight with joy. I moved in closer, I knew that face…

Her face then became one of pain; I heard the sound of metal cutting flesh as a glinting blade penetrated through her stomach. Behind her was another figure, pitch black, except for the eyes… red eyes, the color of blood.

“Mother!”

I was in my bed at Wawnet, once again sweating ice. Another nightmare, such a wonderful start to the day… they’ve been getting worse ever since I arrived. I was beginning to wonder if I would ever be able to sleep at all in the near future. These thoughts did nothing to help my mood as I dressed and made my way downstairs to breakfast before leaving.

Yesterday’s wonderfully clear and warm summer day had given way to a light cloud cover as I left the Inn after breakfast. It was business as usual around Weye this morning, except the fisherman I saw yesterday was noticeably limping and had apparently reeled in empty. He made a beeline for his small cottage, quickly shutting the door behind him, as I turned west towards the Black Road bound for Chorrol.

I was passing a large network of stone ruins once the sun had fully risen. Many vines of deep blue morning glory accented their crumbling walls of yellowing stone and breathed new life into the abandoned crenellations. I took a moment to drink in the sight of the ruined keep, an ancient relic from a time long gone. A slight breeze played my ears as I passed, and I could almost hear the rowdy cries of soldiers, the soft nickering of horses, and the ringing of the hammer on the anvil. In fact, I could hear something now… sounded like footsteps.

A Khajiit clad in hardened furs dashed out from behind the walls. He took one look at me, and then his hand swiftly dove to the haft of a mace swinging by his side.

“All right, hold up right there! This is a robbery, your money or your life!” He snarled. Wonderful, my first journey out on my own and I’m being held up…. First nightmares, now robbers… what did I do to deserve this?

“Look, I really don’t have the time or patience to deal with some sleaze who’s so ashamed of his own pelt he wears another’s. Just get out of my way.” I had spoken without really thinking it through, but didn’t care. It just felt good to rain on his parade.

“Bite your tongue, Wood Elf, before I smash in your jaw!” Came his bitter reply. I responded by drawing my sword.

“Try me.” I shot back, my mind racing about what was coming.

“Hey! What’s going on here?!” A shout came from behind. The Khajiit responded by quickly snarling, “don’t even think I’m finished with you,” and dashing off. A loud clanking behind me announced the arrival of a Legion patrol. I sheathed my sword and turned to face him.

“What was that all about?” He asked me immediately. I responded quickly, telling him about my assailant, what he looked like, and where he went.

“Fan out, men, he can’t have gone far.” At this, three more legionaries on horseback urged their mounts forward. The soldier on foot then turned back to me, apparently having more to say.

“You’ll want to be careful if you’re traveling alone. I don’t know what’s going on, but we’ve been getting increasing reports of muggings and robberies along the roads. Nothing we can’t handle, but you just keep that in mind. Stay vigilant, stay safe, citizen.”

“Well, thanks for coming along before that got ugly.” I replied back. “And for the warning.”

“We serve and protect. Carry on.” The soldier finished, turning away and mounting his horse. “And don’t worry about that highwayman, we’ll find him. Just stick to the roads as much as you can.” He called out as he rode away.

I put my back against the morning glory-overgrown wall and sat down to let my mind catch up with me. The moment I saw that mace drawn, my mind flashed back to when I was sixteen…


----


“The key to being the better fighter is to always be one step ahead of your opponent.” My father had brought me outside and down to the floor of the forest from our home high in the tree canopies. He had brought with him several different weapons, daggers, swords, axes, and maces.

“Where did you get all these?” I asked him.

“Later, son. Right now, concentrate on your technique. Remember the basics, don’t lose your footing, and above all, try to predict what I’m about to do.” He had a large wooden stick in his hand, which he was using as a makeshift club. I held my wooden dagger tight, palms beginning to sweat, silently begging it not to slip free like last time.

He swung the club downward and came at me low. I quickly hopped back, dodging the blow, and lunged in to counter as he recovered his swing. Sidestepping my lunge, he brought the club around and swung low again, aiming for my knees and forcing me to jump to avoid him. Once my feet hit the ground again, he was swinging for me again, this time high, aiming for the arms. I ducked down to avoid the blow…

“Not good! I have the momentum now.” Dad called out to me as made me sidestep a vertical swing. “You’ll need to get out of this before I tire you out!”

Yeah, thanks for the obvious advice, what do you think I’m trying to do right now? I frantically checked for a way to turn the tables on him, and noticed him shifting his weight to his rear foot. As quick as I could, so to catch him on his recovery swing, I hooked my leg around his, and before he could fully brace himself, kicked it out.

The resulting disappearance of his weighted foot caused him to overbalance and fall to the ground. I quickly followed him with my dagger, and plunged it towards his heart…

“Gotcha!”

It was over. I had won the day, and Dad had a huge grin on his face.

“Excellent! Remember, keep ahead of your foe, try to predict his next move, and do what you can to counter it, like you did there with taking my leg out before I could finish putting my weight on it. Now, let’s try again.”


----


“Your swordplay is definitely improving,” Dad said. It was evening now, and we were enjoying a dinner of roast rabbit together in the cool evening air. “You make me so proud of you, son.”

“Thanks, Dad,” I replied. I was still curious about something, though. “Now, are you going to tell me where all those weapons you brought out came from?”

“Oh, those!” He softly exclaimed… “Well, some were supplied by the Archaeology Guild, and others are pieces they let me keep.” He told me, but that answer only puzzled me even more.

“I… I don’t think I understand. Why would you need weapons for that kind of job? Digging really doesn’t seem all that dangerous, just a lot of shoveling and lifting.”

“Archaeology isn’t just about digging things up. Many times we are asked to look around inside for artifacts to recover, and no one knows what manner of beasts may have come to dwell within the ruins we occasionally uncover. Tamriel is a lot more dangerous than many people care to admit. That’s why we were out here today, practicing your skills with the blade. You need to know how to handle yourself in a fight.” He then shifted his gaze skyward before adding: “Besides, if you want to join me at the Guild, they like it if you can handle yourself. It tells them you’re serious about the job.”

“OK, that helps explain where they came from,” I replied, though there was still one more question on my mind: “but why did you bring them with us down here?”

“I was hoping you’d ask,” My father replied, smiling down at me, “Tomorrow is your seventeenth birthday. I want you to choose one weapon from the set I brought, and that weapon will become yours to keep.”

“Really?” I could feel my eyes beginning to moisten. This was my family’s acknowledgement that I had matured. The bequeathing of a weapon, as was tradition for many others, and us, told the world that I was a man, ready to make his own choices and solve his own problems.

“Really,” Dad replied. It was all I could do but to hug him tight and thank him from the bottom of my heart. “You’ve grown up strong, and a father couldn’t ask for a better son. Keep to your training, and then we’ll talk about getting you some work at the Guild.”

I moved to the various assortments of swords and axes to find the one that I felt best spoke to my spirit. I selected a shortsword crafted of steel, and gave it a quick figure-eight, listening to the metal’s ringing song, and feeling the hilt shift in my palm, observing balance and weight.

“I like this one,” I told my dad.

“Great,” He replied. “Now, best get back home, we’ve got a big day tomorrow. I believe your mother is planning to bring you out to craft your bow, so get some rest.”

“By the way, dad…” Just one more thing I needed to set straight.

“Yes?”

“You didn’t forget my birthsign, right? You know I don’t tire easily.” He responded to this by grasping my shoulder and squeezing.

“Just don’t let it get to your head. The Steed may give you a horse’s lungs and legs, but not their constitution. If all else fails, remember to call to Equine for aid. You’ll know when he answers…”



----



Looks like the sun is nearing its zenith, I should probably get going if I want to reach the next inn by evening. As I stood, I felt my sword brush my side, and I took hold of its hilt, feeling familiar comforting warmth spread to my fingertips. It was as if my father’s spirit resided within... the only piece of him I had left, as my bow was of my mother. It was all I could wish for now but to hold my blade close and pray that someday, somewhere, I might just see them again.

This post has been edited by Thomas Kaira: Mar 9 2011, 09:32 PM

[Acadian]

You're a tease! Lots of answers, but even more questions here.

Nice use of mysterious dreams and wonderful Valenwood flashbacks to bring out some of Derelas' upbringing and family history. I'm quite pleased to see you are not rushing him along. You actually covered very little ground here, but the lingering was ever so worth it! Well done.

This is great fun to read!

[SubRosa]

once again sweating ice.
This is a very evocative phrase!

so ashamed of his own pelt he wears another’s.
I love this too!

“The key to being the better fighter is to always be one step ahead of your opponent.”
Pappy Vitellus would agree!

The ending really makes this segment, with the scene between father and son. Derelas is lucky to have had such a father. A man who is an inspiration rather than a tyrant. Who nurtures the growth of a son rather than prunes it, however unwittingly. This is so simply and eloquently done not only in the practice duel, but in the father's reaction at his son's victory. It is one of pride at the man Derelas has become. And all done so lightly as to be nearly transparent to the reader.

I also see by some of the references that there are some mods that you might be using in your fiction, such as the Ayleid Steps and its Archaeology Guild. I never got around to playing that one, so it will be nice to see it.


nits:
I had spoken without really thinking it through, but didn’t really care.
You have a repetition of really in the same sentence. I think you can just remove either of them and the sentence will read fine.


The Khajiit responded by quickly snarling, “Don’t even think I’m finished with you.” and dashing off.
You have two punctuation issues in this sentence. I think caused by confusion from the quotation marks. When punctuating a sentence, just ignore the quotation marks. So when looking above don't should be lowercase, as it is part of the same sentence as quickly snarling. Then later on finished with you ought to end with a comma rather than a period, as the last three words are part of the same sentence. Or what you might to do is completely rearrange the sentence, perhaps like this:
"Don't even think I'm finished with you!" the Khajiit snarled quickly, then dashed off.


As quick as I could, so to catch him on his recovery swing, I swung my leg around his, and before he could fully brace himself, kicked it out.
You have two variations of the same word (swung) in the same sentence. You could probably replace the second case with something like brought, or hooked.


“Your swordplay is definitely improving.” Dad said.
Another case of punctuation. That ought to be a comma at the end of the dialogue as the sentence continues with Dad said.

“Thanks, Dad.” I replied.
Same thing here. Plus a few more after that.

I should say that there are some schools of grammar thought that say capitalize inside the quotations. So if you want to keep them that way it is up to you, and I won't bring it up again. English is not an exact science like mathematics or astronomy. There is more than one school of thought on what constitutes 'proper' writing and what does not. So go with what you think is right, and put that in your stylesheet.

The reason I suggest going with the commas is basically one of consistency. Things like 'he said' do not make a complete sentence. But if you put the period inside your dialogue quotes, it looks that way. That breaks my immersion, because it makes me start thinking about grammar rules rather than just reading the story. I used to write with the periods in the quotations, until it was pointed out to me on the Beth forums by Rachel the Breton. She sort of made me see the light, and I have been happily using commas since.


figure-8
Just a purely aesthetic observation, and feel free to ignore it and like I said above, just go with your gut. But often numbers look better when they are spelled out with letters rather than using numerals (i.e. eight rather than 8).

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jan 21 2011, 04:16 AM

[mALX]

This chapter was Huge with emotions. You set the mood for the nightmare with that eerie music - that whole scene was haunting - excellent!

The dream's carryover to Derelas's mood on the trip set the staging for his memories of his father and lack of preparedness in the robbery attempt - Huge !!! Awesome Chapter !!!

[Thomas Kaira]

@Acadian: Keeping you guessing is my business. Glad to see you're enjoying yourself.

@SubRosa: Thank you for the styling suggestions, they are always welcome and only ever helpful. I'm using this story as a means to refine my fiction writing skills as well as to entertain you, so any suggestions you may have that will help improve the writing are greatly appreciated. Thanks for the vote of confidence, as well.

@mALX: After reading your latest, mine seems almost drab by comparison. Don't worry, though, I'll get there eventually, just you wait.

@All: Thank you for your continued support.

Next: News arrives from the Imperial City, and Dere's adventure begins.

Chapter 2-2: Assassinations and Proclamations

ETHEBRIDGE MILL
Welcome to County Chorrol

The dense green forests of the Heartlands gave way to the rugged yellow grasslands and evergreens of the Colovian Highlands. The brook marking the county border babbled away beneath the small stone bridge across, its speed becoming that of a frenzy having finally been freed of the millpond just northward. The mill wheel creaked slowly and gutturally as it turned, and the faint sound of grindstones could be heard from within. To complete the picture, a huge rocky peak rose beyond the watchtower, the sandy stone cliffs occasionally broken by colossal caverns housing ancient carved stone structures. The moist, heavy air became lighter and drier the further I traveled over the past two days, and now my head was beginning to twinge rather uncomfortably. Probably just from all the travel, I told myself, it’ll get better after a good night’s rest. The walls of Chorrol were just visible over the rocky hilltops; I should be able to make it by sundown.



----



“Welcome to Chorrol,” one of the guards outside greeted me as he lit his lantern. “I suppose you’re looking for a place to stay for the night?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” I replied.

“The Oak and Crosier is a fine place,” the guard began, “Talasma is very friendly and keeps a good clean house. As a matter of fact, she’s probably serving dinner right now, so best you hurry along if you don’t want to miss out.”

“Where can I find the place?”

“Just inside the gates off to the left of the Saint Statue Plaza. Should be packed right about now, so you can’t miss it.”

Not exactly the atmosphere I was looking for, I would have preferred some place where I could sleep off this headache in peace.

“Is there any place else, maybe somewhere a bit quieter?”

“Only the Gray Mare,” the guard told me, his face stiffening, “but all you’ll find there is cheap ale and raving drunkards.” That statement did wonders for making up my mind. Better loud and sober than sick and drunk.

“Right, Oak and Crosier it is.”

“Have a good night.”

The guard touched two fingers to his helmet as I made my way through the portcullis. It was getting too dark at this point to see much of the city, but I could make out the shadow of a statue by the light of a large building buzzing with activity to the left behind it. Deciding that must be place the watchman recommended, I made my way inside.

“Welcome to the Oak and Crosier, this one is Talasma, at your service. Looking for something to eat, or perhaps a place to rest?” A smiling Khajiit dressed smartly in blue suede greeted me warmly as the door swung closed behind me. The room was filled with men and mer wining, dining and chattering away, and while noisy, the effect was not unpleasant, rather it added a warming atmosphere. I made a silent note to thank the watchman next time I saw him, but in the meantime, I had dinner to worry about….

“Perhaps,” I replied, “what do you have?”

“Today we are serving boar; it’s been rubbed with sage, garlic, and a touch of clove and slow-roasted. That comes with a baked potato with butter, sour cream, and Cheydinhal Cheddar and a skillet-seared mushroom stuffed with tomatoes and caramelized onions,” she quickly recited. There was passion in her voice accented by her perked-up ears, telling me she really did love her work. She certainly knows how to get her customers' mouths watering.

“Sounds delicious,” I returned, “How much for that and a bed for the night?”

“20 Drakes,” she responded. I handed her a small handful of silver coins.

“Thank you. Now, there should be a free seat over this way, follow me….”



----



Warm sunbeams fell across my bed as I started up. My head had stopped aching and better yet, no night terrors. It would have been a perfect start to the day if there was not something that didn’t seem to fit about this morning. The inviting murmur of the evening meal had given way to an oddly stiff silence that seemed to compress the air within the lodge, making it seem oddly difficult to breathe. After a quick visit to the washroom, I made my way downstairs, and was greeted by an empty room. Not even Talasma was present. Something was very wrong with this picture now. The publican was not serving the breakfast fare, and the entire city was dead silent when it should be buzzing with the morning activity. Since I was obviously not going to get any questions answered in here by myself, I thought it best to go outside and see what was going on.

“…under his rule we saw 65 years of peace and prosperity, and many grave threats to the Imperial throne quashed.”

A booming voice greeted me as I made my way out the door. What looked to be the entire city’s population was gathered in the Statue Plaza, where a herald dressed entirely in black velvet was speaking from a raised wooden podium. Every face that I could see looked thunderstruck, and I could also hear the occasional sob. I noticed Talasma nearby and made my way to her, hoping to get a better idea of what happened.

“Excuse me, what’s going on here?” I whispered to her, making her jump before she quickly turned to face me.

“Goodness, you startled me,” She replied, “Umm… sorry, what did you ask, again?”

“What happened?” I repeated to her, doing my best to keep my voice down so to not disturb anyone else.

“Oh, yes,” She began, her voice higher than usual and quavering oddly, “Its… It’s the Emperor… He’s dead.” On speaking that last word, she gasped as if she hardly dared believe what she had just said. The air vanished from my lungs and electricity surged through my body as if I had been lightning-struck. I immediately turned my full attention to the herald, wanting just as much as everybody else to know what had happened.

“His passing marks a dark day indeed for the Empire, for the eternal flame of Akatosh, the light by which we all owe our lives to, grows dark. Today has been proclaimed a day of mourning by the Elder Council, who, until a decision as to who shall next attain the throne, shall take control of the Empire. They will do the best they can to maintain order until a new Emperor can be crowned. Her lordship Countess Arriana Valga would now wish for you to join her in a moment of prayer for the loss of such true-hearted men.” He then proceeded to help an elderly woman, also dressed in black velvet for the occasion, to the stand.

Wait, what? This makes no sense. Didn’t he have any heirs? What happened to them? Shouldn’t the Elder Council be searching them out? What else did I miss? How did he die? My mind buzzed with questions as the crowd bowed their heads and brought their hands together.

“Thank you,” the herald broke the silence after several minutes and helped the countess back down, where she moved to rejoin her guard at the head of the crowd. “If anyone wishes to know more, the Black Horse Courier is available here. Funeral processions will be held a week from today in Cyrodiil City.”

He then stepped down himself, and the entire square erupted into a maelstrom of confused voices as the crowd gradually dispersed. It took me several minutes to fight my way through to the makeshift newsstand that had been erected. Once I finally managed, all of my questions were answered with two drakes:

Emperor and Heirs Assassinated in the Night!

It is with great regret that we inform you today of the tragic passing of His Majesty Uriel Septim VII, 87, and his three sons (Geldall Septim (56), Enman Septim (55), and Ebel Septim (53)) at the hands of a mysterious group of assassins on the night of Last Seed the 27th. This means for the first time in recorded history, the Dragon Throne lies empty with no heir to claim it, and many eyewitnesses have reported that the Eternal Flame of Akatosh in the Temple of the One has been extinguished.

“Normally when the Emperor passes, the flame simply dims until one of his heirs binds himself to the throne in the Coronation Ceremony,” Temple primate Tandilwe stated during interview with Black Horse Courier reporter Hassiri, “for it to go out completely would be unthinkable.”

But unfortunately, it has. With the Dragonfires darkened, the people of the Empire have erupted into a mass of confusion and hysteria. Many doomsayers have begun to hold this event as a portent to the end of all things.

“The Compact has broken,” One told our reporters, “The power of the Nine has failed! The signs have never been clearer! Soon the jaws of Oblivion shall open, and the Daedra will roam free across the land!”

What a load of horse manure… the Emperor was assassinated not much more than two days ago and already we have idiots like these doing nothing more than add fuel to fire beneath the boiling cauldron! If the Elder Council is doing everything they can to hold Tamriel together right now, it sure won’t help with fools like these trying to get everyone to blow their tops just to keep the sales up. Crumpling the paper in my hands, I stuffed it as far as I could to the bottom of my pack so I might never see it again. Taking a quick look around, I noticed several of the shops around town were beginning to open. Assured that business was not being hampered by the tragedy today, I returned to my original task.

Following the posted signs up Great Oak Lane brought me to the similarly named Great Oak Plaza. The first thing that caught my eye was the tree growing in the center; it was huge! Its trunk towered over even the tallest buildings and the leafy canopy spread its shade to every corner of the rotunda, bringing back visions of the woods back home. The encircling road was now bustling with people moving every which way now that the herald was finished. Occasionally, a few would stop to chat, probably speculating about what will happen now that the Empire had lost its leader, but no one stood in the same place for long. Those who were here to relax were spread out upon the grassy knoll beneath which the great tree spread its roots, or sitting upon one of the many mahogany benches encircling it.

It was tempting to just throw my head back beneath the shade of the broad leaves for the day and let everything sink in, but I knew better. I wouldn’t get any closer to the University doing nothing. After a few more minutes of searching, I finally noticed the blue eye denoting the location of the guild, and made my way to the oaken doors.




----





“Hello, welcome to the Chorrol Mages Guild,” I was promptly greeted by the lightly hissing voice of an Argonian clad in indigo robes, “I am chapter Magister Teekeus. Are you here to join, or perhaps for one of these ‘Recommendations’ I’ve been hearing so much about?”

“Both, actually,” I replied, digging into my pack to remove the papers I brought with me from the Imperial City. He sounded like he was rather grumpy, and I couldn’t help but notice the irritation in his low voice when he said “Recommendation.”

“You won’t need those just yet,” Teekeus stopped me, causing me to look quizzically into his unreadable eyes. “First we need to give you a quick aptitude examination.”

“What? What test?” I asked indignantly. I thought anyone was allowed to join? Why do I need to take some dumb test?

“Don’t worry, it’s just for evaluation. It won’t affect your standing,” There was that irritated voice again, which did nothing to reassure me. I wasn’t sure if I liked him all that much. “I just need to know what schools of magic you are experienced in so we can better plan for your needs.”

“Illusion and Alchemy,” I quickly recited. I just wanted to get this over with, seeing as there was so much I’d rather be doing right now than listen to some crotchety lizard-man preen about my experience.

“OK, perhaps you show me a spell from the Illusion school?”

Repressing a sigh, I closed my eyes, imagining the lights had all gone away. I then fixed my mind on a desire to bring light to the darkness as I tensed my arm and clenched my fist. Soon I felt energy surge to my palm, and I held it in as long as I could before letting my hand fly open, releasing the Magicka in the form I desired…

*ROAR*

Oh, gods, did I just start a fire or something? My eyes flung open to the sight of another Bosmer, his hair ablaze, sprinting for the front door as fast as his legs could carry him. My stomach plummeted.

“HE’S OUT OF CONTROL, SOMEONE GET A LEASH ON HIM!” He cried out as he threw himself outside. I then saw a strange creature prance out of the neighboring room. It looked like a goblin, except he had black scales instead of green skin, long pointy ears, a maw full of sharp teeth, and a fireball building in one hand. With a quick motion, Teekeus cast a ball of purple light at the creature, causing it to dissolve into nothingness.

“Sorry about that,” he replied nonchalantly, “now, that was a Light spell, right?”

“Wait, hang on, that wasn’t me, was it?” I sure hoped it wasn’t. I don’t think I would be able to stand the shame.

“No, Erthor just has a bit of trouble controlling his summons,” Teekeus replied uninterestedly.

I raised an eyebrow at his response, but decided it would be best not to continue this discussion. “Yes, it was a light spell,” I replied to Teekeus’s original question. I then heard the door open as the Bosmer named Erthor returned, now bald and with his face sopping wet. It was all I could manage to resist laughing as he stomped upstairs, slamming the door behind him.

“Okay, now for Alchemy. Wait here.” He made his way into the neighboring room and returned a couple minutes later with a mortar and pestle, a white mushroom cap, a small cut of meat, and a vial of water. He then laid them on a small table next to a window and turned back to me. “Show me what you can do with those.”

A quick examination of the ingredients told me the mushroom was Cairn Bolete and the meat was venison. I then took the ingredients and began to crush them together with the mortar and pestle, not stopping until they had become a bright pink paste. I then slowly added in the water, stirring constantly, until the contents of the pestle flashed and shone with magical power. I then handed Teekeus the finished product, which he quickly appraised.

“A simple restorative draught,” he declared, “crude, but acceptable. Now, is there anywhere else you have magical skill in?”

“Nope,” I replied honestly.

“Very well. Hand me that application you had earlier.”

I handed him the leaflet of parchment, he then made a quick motion with his hand, causing a quill to appear out of nowhere, and began scratching away.




----




“Welcome to the Mages Guild, Associate,” Teekeus said as I handed him back his quill, which promptly vanished.

“Thanks,” I replied, “Now, I don’t mean to rush anything, but about that recommendation….”

“Oh, that,” Teekeus quickly looked out the window and I could swear I saw his scales darken as his eyes narrowed, “well, thankfully for you something’s just come up. I need you to find out what Earana is doing here.”

“Who is Earana?” I inquired, unsure how I fit into whatever was happening between them.

“Let’s just say we have a history together,” Teekeus replied, “She doesn’t put much by the rules of the guild and has taken to interfering with my research. I need you to speak to her, find out what she’s doing in Chorrol, and then come back here and tell me.”

I had to bite my tongue on the several questions I had, particularly why he just wouldn’t go outside and ask her himself. It probably wouldn’t be a very good idea to antagonize him right now, considering how on-edge and grouchy he looks. Instead, I wordlessly made my way outside, and immediately noticed a sandy-blond Altmer in a bright green dress making a beeline for me.

“Pardon me, are you new to the guild?” she immediately asked. This must be Earana, I thought; time to play along. At the very least I could answer this question honestly.

“Yes, actually, I am,” I told her.

“Ah, good,” she replied, a shifty grin crossing her face, “then you’ll do just fine. My name is Earana, and I have a job for you. It pays well, and it will most assuredly assist you in your education.”

“Depends on the job,” I told her, noticing the ghost of irritation flash through her eyes at my response. It would seem she was expecting someone a bit more enthusiastic.

“Oh, it’s not difficult at all, if that’s what you're wondering,” she replied, quickly recovering her haughty demeanor, “I just need you to find a book for me.”

“Okay then, what is this book you want?”

“It’s called ‘Fingers of the Mountain,’” she told me, placing heavy emphasis on the title that sounded mighty close to reverance, “it is of no use to you, you will not be able to read it. I, however, can, and would very much like to. Go to the ruins of Cloud Top in the Colovian Peaks to the north, find this book, and bring it back to me.”

“Okay, I’ll do my best,” I replied, “I just need to head back inside for a bit and get ready,” I then turned to leave, but was stopped by a sharp grip on my shoulder.

“Whatever you do, do not tell anything about our arrangement to Teekeus. It would be… unhealthy for you if you did,” she told me in a low, dangerous voice before letting me go. I left her side without a single glance backward, hoping she didn’t see the uneasy look on my face.




Screenshots (Click to enlarge):

Welcome to the Colovian Highlands:


Medieval Morning:


Unrelated extra, Moonlit Chapel:


This post has been edited by Thomas Kaira: Jan 23 2011, 09:30 PM

[mALX]

What a wild introduction to the Chorrol Mages Guild! I love the way you displayed the city's reaction to the news, that was hugely immersive and makes much more sense than just one citizen telling another and hearing, "NO!" shouted. Another Great Chapter !!!!

[haute ecole rider]

TK, I like how this story is developing so far. The main character is getting more and more interesting as we go along.

It's a bit unique to document/witness the reaction of the general populace to the news of Emperor Uriel's death and the assassination of his sons. The BHC certainly came through this time!

Erthor's appearance was a bit of a surprise, since I normally encounter him in Skingrad, not Chorrol. Still, it adds a bit of an interesting background to this character. I presume he got kicked out of the Chorrol chapter and told to head to Skingrad to keep Berene entertained?

Some technical nits:
I'm seeing apostrophe issues. I'll go through them one by one:

The brook marking the county border babbled away beneath the small stone bridge across, it’s speed becoming that of a frenzy having finally been freed of the millpond just northward.

That pesky it's/its! This is a huge tripping stone for many writers (including myself, until I figured it out). It is a word that does not observe the same apostrophe conventions as most words. While the apostrophe is used in many possessive forms (such as Erthor's summons, Teekeus's grumpiness, etc), it does not own an apostrophe in its possessive form. On the other hand, it's is a contraction of it is.

She certainly knows how to get her customer’s mouths watering.

Unless you are writing a crossover between TES and Star Wars, I doubt our dear Talasma has a mutlple-mouthed customer from the infamous cantina on Tatooine. When using the possessive apostrophe for a plural noun, the little dangle goes after the s, as in customers' mouths. For singular nouns (including proper nouns) ending in s, such as Teekeus, the convention is to place a second s after the apostrophe (see Teekeus's grumpiness above).

“Oh, it’s not difficult at all, if that’s what your wondering,”

Your/you're is another little stone that many writers trip over. Your is possessive, as in your goal, while you're is a contraction of you are, as in you're crazy! (I'm using this as an example, not as an opinion of the writer's mental status!)


A few words of advice: avoid using spell check and grammar check instead of your own brain and two eyes. Spell check is not context-aware (which may lead to some of the apostrophe issues you're having), and I've seen some substitutions that were crazier than honoured user and loaf of bread. And I have yet to encounter grammar check that was accurate and intelligent. I do have spell check enabled in my writing software, but I use it sparingly, and mostly to highlight questionable words. I still give each piece a thorough proofreading myself, since I catch more errors than any computer ever could.

Overall I like the way this story is heading. I see that you are feeding Acadian - it's something that is bound to make him a very happy reader!

[Acadian]

Rider was right! You served chow, and here I am - a happy reader! Yum, a wonderful roast boar dinner and a roaring fire.

I thoroughly enjoyed this story.

Your portrayal of the Emperor's death was very well done, and fitting. The BHC article was a nice touch and also nicely done.

Erthor - now bald - added a nice touch of humor.

And Earana. . . Oh I hope Dere doesn't have to kill her like some other elf did. But you see how cranky, unreasonable and even dangerous she can get?

Nit?
“Welcome to the Mages Guild, Associate,” Teekeus said as I handed him back his quill, which he promptly vanished.
I'm gonna guess that you meant the quill vanished, not he (Teekeus). Therefore, it seems the word 'he' should vanish?

[SubRosa]

Melissa Etheridge Mill? Teresa is going to have to look that place up.

So was that watchman who gave Derelas directions Nite Owl? the Comedian? Rorschach?

Dinner sounds good. Now I need that Homer Simpson mouth-watering emoticon again! Here we go!

I liked how Dere learned about the Emperor's death. For once the player character was not in the middle of it! That is indeed refreshing to read in an ES fan fic, as usually if the Oblivion Crisis takes place in the fic, the main character is there for the Emp's death (my own included). It is a very pleasant change to see the main character being just a bystander in it all.

btw, you can post inline images here, so you might want to add in the BHC logo to your copy of the newsheet. Just reply to this and copy and paste the code below:



I thought anyone was allowed to join?
This was a nice little dig at the game, where even Bobo the Barbarian can join mages guild, arcane university, and become the Arch Mage.

Erthor's appearance was wonderful! So perfectly timed as well!

And finally Earana. I did this one with my previous magician - Morrigan - and gave Earana the book. After creating a mod that changed the stats for the Finger of the Mountain spell to make it more useful, it was the only ranged destruction spell that Morrigan used for the rest of the game.

[Thomas Kaira]

@mALX: Thank you.

@haute ecole rider: Glad to see you with us, and that you are enjoying the adventure (well, the start of it at least). Thank you for the proofreading advice, I daresay it helped quite a bit to turn the grammar checker off (though I leave the spellchecker on just in case of typos).

@Acadian: With my culinary training, I think I can safely say there's plenty more delicious reading coming, when the time is right. On the topic of Earana... read on.

Nit be picked.

@SubRosa: If you're wondering, the mill is added by the mod Unique Landscapes: River Ethe, and it's actually to the west of Chorrol in the game, not to the east like I portrayed it. If you are further wondering, Chorrol exists roughly in the area Battlehorn Castle does in this fiction, in the rocky, golden-grassed hinterlands of Cyrodiil. I thought it would fit a bit better for a mountain town, considering I live in one.

@all: It is your faithful support that keeps me going and makes me better. I don't think I couldn't have even made it this far without your support, and this story is nowhere even close to done! I have big plans with the overarching plot, and in time, you might catch a glimpse of them. Every event so far will have repercussions later on, remember that.

next: We have irate mages and raving drunkards. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, so I hope you will have just as much reading it.

Chapter 2-3: The Cloud Top Gambit

Teekeus was not in the lobby when I returned, so I had to grab a seat and wait for him to come back from wherever he went. After about 5 minutes or so, I saw him coming back down the stairs to the lobby. If possible, he looked even grumpier now than he did before, and seemed none too pleased to see me again.

“I trust you’ve spoken to Earana,” he snapped, the hiss in his voice making him sound even more like a rearing serpent than before, “I want her out of town. You won’t be getting into my good books dancing around my hall with your head in your pants.”

Hardly red carpet treatment, what’s gotten beneath his scales?

“Yes, I did speak to her,” I told him, “she wanted me to find a book for her. ‘Fingers of the Mountain’ she said.”

Teekeus nearly exploded when he heard the book’s name, “WHAT?! What else did she tell you?”

“That she wanted to read it and that I could find it someplace called Cloud Top, north of here,” I finished. Teekeus was nearly beside himself when I was done.

“So she knows where it is, too?! This is unacceptable, absolutely unacceptable!” He ranted, more to himself than to anyone else in particular. He then turned back to me, his two elegant fins pinned to his head and shooting daggers from his eyes.

“Go to Cloud Top and find that book,” he hissed, making me recoil from how much he was showing off his needle-like teeth, “do not give it to Earana, whatever you do, she must not be allowed to have it. Bring it back here to me, instead. I need not remind you that handing her that book will forfeit your guild membership. Do I make myself clear?”

“Very,” I bemusedly replied, “but what made you think I was going to help that ice queen in the first place? I know where my loyalties lie.”

“Oh, really?” Teekeus answered, relaxing a bit. “Then I trust you will handle yourself properly if she comes looking for you, because I highly doubt she’s going to let that book slip her grasp lightly. Just do what you must to bring it here, that book is far too dangerous to leave out in the open.”

“Well, I guess I should get going then?”

“Good idea. I’ll let you out the back way, once outside, leave town through the north gate, and try to keep Earana from seeing you. She’s bound to follow you, though, so be ready for her.” Teekeus then reached into the front of his robe, pulled out a scroll of yellowing parchment bound in twine, and handed it to me. “Here, in case you need to make a quick getaway, this scroll will summon a Scamp to your side. It should distract her long enough for you to get some distance between you and her. Can you do that?”

“Sure,” I answered, recalling my birthsign, and the words of a certain figure, “If all else fails, remember to call to Equine for aid. You’ll know when she answers…”

“Good, now get moving.”




----




The sun was beginning to set as I made my way back down the rocky mountain trail after the long, yet uneventful hike to the ruins of Cloud Top. There wasn’t much there apart from a small shrine and a blackened corpse charred to the point where it was impossible to identify the gender. It was a rather grisly sight but thankfully it was too well done to smell, and it was still clutching the book in it’s blackened arms when I arrived. The grand stone walls of Chorrol loomed in the distance now, beckoning my return with the promise of a warm meal, a soft bed, and, of course, another step being taken towards my magical career. But the peace was not to last, for I soon noticed a familiar green dress storming up the trail in my direction.

“Hold it right there!” came the resounding cry of Earana’s voice, “I’m afraid I can’t trust you anymore. I’m here to claim my book.”

“Hmm… I wonder what caused you to double take?” I asked rhetorically, knowing the answer before she even opened her mouth to say it.

“Well, going back inside the guild after we spoke didn’t help your case much,” She sneered. I quickly thrust my hand into my pocket, grasping the scroll Teekeus gave me tightly in my palm, ready to release the Scamp contained within the parchment at a moment’s notice.

“Anyways, that doesn’t matter anymore,” She continued in that grating snide voice, “I have a new deal for you. You give me the book, and I’ll let you walk away from this unharmed. Sound good to you?”

“Surprisingly, no,” I countered, and watched with satisfaction as her disgustingly proud grin slid off her face like molasses on water. “I thought maybe you could do a little dance for me first. By the gods, I could use a good laugh today.”

“Some cheek you’ve got,” she snarled back, her face reddening, “Let’s see how good it does you on the end lightning… AARGH!”

I watched in bemused silence as Earana’s body was thrown face-first to the dirt. As she fell, I noticed a feathered shaft sticking out of a most peculiar place. She did not get up.

“You’re off to a fine start here. Just three days in Cyrodiil and already you’ve made someone want to kill you.”

A female figure emerged from the trees a short ways down the hill, a very familiar Dunmer figure….

“Faith?!” I cried out, “What are you doing here?”

“Now there’s the question of the week,” She replied, grinning, “Mind telling me what you were doing here first?”

“Being threatened by some Altmer witch with her head too high up in the clouds to see reason.” I explained to her. “Nice aim, by the way.”

“Hey, just thought she needed to get some shaft before the end,” She replied, smirking down at the now lifeless body, “Oh, I know what you’re thinking right now, and she won’t be missed. She has a history of violence, this one; murdered a couple people down the way of Bravil. News probably didn’t make it in of that today, what with the assassination; Count Terentius put a bounty on her life a couple days ago.”

“And how do you know that?” I inquired. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful for her help, but it did seem a bit odd that she knew that.

“I’m a forester, I have my ways,” She quickly dismissed my question. Again with the secrets, it would seem, I was beginning to wonder if “forester” was her only profession. “Besides, it was supposed to be in today’s paper. News just got held up due to the Emperor’s death. The Chorrol guard knows about her now; I suspect that’s why she left the city to tail you. We can report her in on the way down.”

“Fair enough,” I replied, relieved that we weren’t facing murder charges for all this. “Anyways, we seem to have lost topic here,” Faith continued, “what were you really doing here?” I proceeded to tell her about Teekeus’ task, Earana’s shady deal, and the book in my pack.

“Fingers of the Mountain?” Faith looked quite unnerved by the time I was finished, “I hope this guy Teekeus realizes he’s put you in terrible danger asking you to do this for him.”

“So it would seem,” I replied, eying Earana, “If this book is really that dangerous, maybe we should stop wasting time here and get it back into town before we lose the sun?”

“Good idea,” Faith answered, pulling her arrow out of Earana’s rear.




----




“Thank the Nine you’ve brought this to me,” came Teekeus’s hissing voice, though he seemed much more relaxed now that I had handed him the book, lending his voice an oddly soothing quality. “I feared what might have happened to you when I saw Earana dash off. I’m glad to see you’re safe.”

“I had a bit of help,” I told him. Faith and I had parted ways once we returned to the city.

“Well, what matters is you’ve brought this wretched book back with you so the Mages Guild can keep it locked away from unsuitable eyes,” Teekeus continued. He then turned to me, and I saw what might have been the lizard-like equivalent of a smile on his face. “You’ve done well, and I’m glad my trust in you was not misplaced. I will provide you the recommendation you desire.”

I thanked him as I handed him my paperwork to sign.

“Now, if you wish to stay here for the night, we have several free beds upstairs,” Teekeus explained to me, “or would you prefer to stay elsewhere?”

“I’ll probably head back to the Oak and Crosier,” I replied, “it’s been a long day, and I’d prefer a quiet rest.”

“Very well,” Teekeus answered, turning away, “Just remember that our beds are always available to our members. But… I would suggest staying elsewhere if you’re planning to go to Skingrad,” he added. I decided it would be better not to ask any further.

As I made my way back to the Oak and Crosier for dinner and bed, I stumbled into a man… or rather, he stumbled into me. Just one whiff of him told me he was extremely drunk. He was dressed in a simple blue and green outfit that was frayed in several places.

“If I tol’ you once, I tol’ ya thousan’ times… I never been to Cheydinha…” he began, but soon after seemed to catch himself. This allowed me to barely recognize the singsong voice of a Breton behind all the slurred, drunken speech. “Wait, wai’ you’re someone else. I’m sorry, my friend, I though’ you was someone else.”

“You should probably go home and get some rest,” I told him. It might have seemed needless, but drunks can be anything but coherent, as this man was quickly proving to me.

“Well, ya’ see, frien’, people have always been comin’ up to me an’ asking ‘Didn’ I see you in Cheydinhal? Didn’t I see you in Deychinhal?’” He continued raving, seeming not to even register I had said anything, “Well, I’m sick o’ it… an’ tired. Tired an’ sick….”

He chose this moment to vomit all over the paving stones.

“…Well, maybe jus’ tired now,” He continued, “Anyways, come over here, got job for ya’.”

I hesitantly took a step closer, cautious should his stomach decide it was dissatisfied with the amount of alcohol inside him once again.

“I wan’ you go to Cheydinhal, tell this man to stop besmirching my good name, I’m quite capable of smebirching my own good name on my own.”

He then pulled a small sack out of his pocket and dropped it at my feet, barely missing his own pile of regurgitation.

“There’s 50 drakes in it for ya’ frien’, now get outta my way, need to go have a nap….”

With that he stumbled off down the street, nearly smacking headlong into a lamppost as he left. He left me wondering who he was and just what might have turned him into such a roaring drunk. Well, at the very least I had my next destination well in hand, and some extra money to get me there.

This post has been edited by Thomas Kaira: Jan 26 2011, 07:37 AM

[haute ecole rider]

And Faith saves the day!

Honestly I liked how Earana met her end. I just don't know how Julian is going to deal with her when she comes to Chorrol. Ugh.

Anyways, this has got to be my fav line in this chapter:

“I wan’ you go to Cheydinhal, tell this man to stop besmirching my good name, I’m quite capable of smebirching my own good name on my own.”

Drunk speak can be hysterical, and our drunken Jemane nailed it!

[SubRosa]

what’s gotten beneath his scales?
A wonderful setting-friendly phrase!

So Faith is a bounty hunter who was hunting Earana? Now that is interesting. A neat twist.

I would suggest staying elsewhere if you’re planning to go to Skingrad,
Vigge's fame precedes him!

“…Well, maybe jus’ tired now.”
Reynald has always been one of my favorite characters in the game. You just made him even more so!


nits:
“Fair enough,” I replied, relieved that we weren’t facing murder charges for all this.
“Anyways, we seem to have lost topic here,” Faith continued, “what were you really doing here?” I proceeded to tell her about Teekeus’ task, Earana’s shady deal, and the book in my pack.

“So it would seem,” I replied, eying Earana, “If this book is really that dangerous, maybe we should stop wasting time here and get it back into town before we lose the sun?”
“Good idea.” Faith answered, pulling her arrow out of Earana’s rear.

You lost the spaces between the twos sets of paragraphs above.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jan 26 2011, 03:24 AM

[Acadian]

Oh that's right! I remember now about your culinary training. TK - Iron Chef Tamriel!! I know where to read to get fed now. Although dear Julian feeds me very well. Oh, and meals with Jerric are great too! Now where was I? Oh yes, great story here!

“I trust you’ve spoken to Earana,” he snapped, the hiss in his voice making him sound even more like a rearing serpent than before, “I want her out of town. You won’t be getting into my good books dancing around my hall with your head in your pants.”
Hardly red carpet treatment, what’s gotten beneath his scales?
Wonderfully Argonian, this exchange!

I watched in bemused silence as Earana’s body was thrown face-first to the dirt. As she fell, I noticed a feathered shaft sticking out of a most peculiar place. She did not get up.
I can quite assure you that the little elf on my shoulder was cheering and shaking her bow in satisfaction as she read this. How wonderful that Earana met her end by arrow! I think the way you handled this aspect of the quest was very well done! Faith, you go, girl! Oh, and TK, don't you think for one minute I don't know where Faith got her name - it takes one to know one!

But… I would suggest staying elsewhere if you’re planning to go to Skingrad
Oh noes. Not more reminders of the musical (ugh) beds in Skingrad!

Ahah. So it seems that Shaydinhole Chernobyl, Chedderbowl? - oh, you know what I mean is the next recommendation with a little drunken mystery to boot!

[mALX]

GAAAAH !!!! How did I miss that you had posted a new chapter ?????? You did an Awesome job of personalizing that quest, all while adding the mystery of Faith's presence and knowledge - almost seems like she is following Derelas (or am I thinking of Victor and the Courier? Lol).

Evil or not - I always deal with Earana to get that spell from her, either before or after the Mages Guild gets the book. It is an Awesome spell, and the danger of facing the lightning bolt to get it makes it more fun, lol.


Fingers on he Mountain:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BmGUQZCAkx0


Awesome Chapter!!! Leaves a nagging feeling we haven't seen the last of Faith - and that her role is much more complex than originally thought. Great Write !!


This post has been edited by mALX: Jan 29 2011, 04:01 AM

[Grits]

I love the humor! Your Reynald is even more hilarious than the game makes him, and who doesn’t enjoy a good vomit joke? Earana’s ‘end’ was quite satisfying. Dinner at the Oak and Crosier has my mouth watering. I’m looking forward to reading more of your story!

[TheOtherRick]

I'm a late comer to the story, but now I'm on the same page as evryone else. This is a great story so far.

The sinister beginning of Chapter 1 was a real "reader grabber"!

I really like the way you have tweaked the Mage's Guild initiation, giving both the enrollment and recommendation rituals nice touches that were very plausable.

Can't wait for more...

[Thomas Kaira]

@haute ecole rider: Isn't it fun writing drunk speak? I was hoping that Faith's intervention would help to build her into a more likable figure, I'm glad it worked out.

@SubRosa: Assumptions already? Tut tut, Sage Rosa, you barely know the gal!

It appears that my word processor and these boards still have a few differences to work out. Thanks for picking those up.

@Acadian: Buffy's happy, and that means worlds to me. We won't be going to the city starting with C immediately, however. I've got plenty of room for some character building on the week-long journey.

@mALX: Well, giving the book to Earana just isn't in my character's... well... character. Rest assured, the book and the knowledge it contains will return eventually.

@Grits: Want a good vomit joke? Search for the Mr. Creosote Monty Python sketch. That's classic gross-out humor.

@TheOtherRick: Welcome! Glad you're enjoying yourself!

@all: The next chapter was supposed to be presented all in one, but when I did my pre-post word count I discovered it was almost 4000 words long! That's a bit lengthy, so I've decided to split the chapter in two. This is the first part.

next: Derelas leaves Chorrol, and gets a sobering welcome to life as a traveller.

Chapter 3-1: ‘Til Death Do Us Part

“Who, Reynald Jemane? He doesn’t do much else around here except drink his life away at the Gray Mare, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

It was morning once again, and I had sparked a quick chat with Talasma over the strange drunk who confronted me the evening before. She didn’t look too happy to be talking about him; the moment I mentioned him her ears drooped and her hackles raised slightly, but I highly doubted I would be able to find this “besmircher of good names” if I didn’t know whose good name to look for.

“Sorry, I didn’t know he wasn’t that popular around here,” I replied, hoping it would ease her irritated tone, “he just ran into me yesterday and told me about someone impersonating him in Cheydinhal or something.”

“Well, This One wouldn’t put much by anything he does tell you,” Talasma continued with a grimace, “half the time he doesn’t even know what’s coming out of his mouth if he’s not redecorating the cobblestones. Why even bother thinking about it?”

“I have a bit of business in Cheydinhal, myself,” I answered, though I had to admit Talasma had a point, “wouldn’t hurt to take a look around.”

“Probably not,” Talasma replied, “in fact, This One has heard a few customers talking about seeing someone who looked a lot like Reynald, only with longer hair and sober, if that helps any.”

“He didn’t tell me much else about him, so all help is welcome right now,” I answered, leaving a drake on the table. “Anyways, I best be off if I want to make Odiil by sundown. Thanks for the k’lah.”




----




The golden rocks of the hinterlands had been all but hidden away by the sea of trees, welcoming me back to the Great Forest. Gargantuan redwoods rose to touch the very heavens, while diminutive saplings were latched in a tense battle for whatever sunlight they could scrounge. Every so often the ocean of green was broken by the yellowing leaves of autumn, adding a painter’s touch to the scene. A cool breeze rustled its way through the canopy, sending the treetops dancing in its joyful bluster. The faint, playful trilling of finches and robins completed the natural symphony.

As I continued my journey back to Weye, where I would then cross the Imperial Isle to reach Cheydinhal, I returned to the immense ruins of an old keep I had passed on the way to Chorrol. If I remembered correctly, it was named Fort Ash. It rose from the ground with the forest, masquerading as the colossal trunk of a long petrified ancient oak. As I approached the grand archway spanning the road, I noticed the bushes rustling to my left.

I turned to investigate, when suddenly a familiar Khajiit clad in hardened furs burst from the leaves, mace drawn and held high.

“I told you this wasn’t over, tree-hugger! Prepare to die!”

I barely had enough time to draw my blade before he brought his mace downward, aiming for my head. I quickly dived out of the way, using my empty hand to form my body into a wheel as I rolled. I quickly regained my footing and turned to face my assailant, who was charging me again. This time he brought his mace upwards from a low swing, once again aiming for my head…

I crouched down, letting his mace fly over my head and his momentum carry him further forward. I then swung for his heel, and felt my blade bite into his flesh. Blood spurted all along the paving stones as his leg gave out, sending him crashing to his knees beside me. I could have let him be then, just left him crippled and ran, he obviously wouldn’t be able to follow, but a strange feeling was flowing through me. I felt invigorated, as if some part of me buried deep down had been awakened, something primal. I could not control myself, in a single movement, I stood, brought my blade to his throat, and pulled….

I felt my blade leave my hand, listening to it clatter to the ground. He was dead, and I killed him. I slowly backed away from the body, whose blood was now flowing between the cracks in the stones in a visceral dance. It felt as if a portion of my mind had been cleaved nearly in two. One side was so utterly appalled at what I had done that it wanted me to run into a corner, huddle up, and cry until my tears ran dry. The other was rearing, screaming approval. I collapsed to the ground, unable to figure myself out. Should I be disgusted, or ecstatic?

He was trying to kill you, you know, he told you himself, I heard a nagging voice in the back of my head reply to my unvoiced question. He chose his fate, you simply showed him the way.

Doesn’t change that I killed him, I rebutted.

What can? He died so you could live. Nothing you can do about that now.

He didn’t have to die, you know, I could’ve just scampered when I got his leg.

He would be back, then, too. They’re always back sooner or later.

And he also might have learned his lesson, you can’t know that.

You did what you had to. No point in arguing that, it’s done. You can’t go back. If you’re worried about the law, don’t be. He attacked you, you defended yourself, you have your rights.

“No, I’m worried that you’re sending me down the wrong path,” my voice rang through the trees, splitting open the deafening silence following the brief battle.

First sign of madness, talking to yourself, much less arguing with yourself. Just move on, you’ll find it easier to understand soon enough.

And how is that, exactly? What’s to understand, that I’ve got blood on my hands I can never scrub off?

No, just that you need to be prepared for what this world has in store for you. Remember what dad said? Tamriel is not a pretty place, better you get used to death now with no one else to hound you than when you’ve got three bandits just itching to steal your coin and willing to kill you trying.

Great, I really am talking to myself. I sure hope the gods will forgive me for my moment of crazy.

A house divided is hardly crazy. You just need some time to digest, to pick up the pieces. You’ve always had this in you, it was only today that you first let your instincts loose. Give it time, you’ll come to grips.

Fine, if it means I won’t have to make anyone think I’m going schizophrenic, I’ll listen. Might as well get the body off the road, I’m quite sure the are not many travelers out there who would enjoy discovering a rotting half-lion in the middle of the pathway. Once I moved him off to the grass on the side, I quickly checked his pockets, and pulled out several small sacks of drakes with a couple septims thrown in here and there. I placed a drake on his mouth to let the Watch know he was an outlaw and left the scene. As I passed beneath the old ruins, I felt strangely more vulnerable than I did half an hour ago.

This post has been edited by Thomas Kaira: Jan 31 2011, 05:07 AM

[haute ecole rider]

And here comes the Highwayman again!

At least you fixed him this time. He won't be shouting "Today you die!" anymore.

I did spot a couple of nits. Really, one nit repeated twice:

but I highly doubted I would be able to find this “besmircher of good names” if I didn’t know who’s good name to look for.

I slowly backed away from the body, who’s blood was now flowing between the cracks in the stones in a visceral dance.

It's another confusing term. Who's is the contraction of who is, while the term you want in this context is whose. Correct usage of the two forms would be as follows:
Who's crazy enough to try this?
Whose idiotic idea was that?

Hope it clarifies things for you a bit!

[SubRosa]

if he’s not redecorating the cobblestones.
Ewwww!

So Derelas has taken his first life. You show his conscience very well in his internal monologue afterward. It also looks like he is not alone inside his head. Somehow I doubt he is your run of the mill crazy person though. Given that this is a fantasy setting, having a spirit companion is not very far-fetched at all. If that is indeed what the other voice is.

A very neat bit of world-building, leaving the coin in the bandit's mouth afterward.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jan 30 2011, 10:34 PM

[mALX]

This chapter was HUGE in detail and emotions. The descriptions were awesome, but best of all I loved the detail of leaving the coin on his mouth as a sign for the Legion. AWESOME detail !!!

Derelas's reaction on his first killing - deeply realistic. You do what you have to for survival, but that doesn't make it easier to live with. (having a son that served three tours in Iraq - I know this emotion well, have seen it firsthand in my son).

AWESOME Chapter !!!