Redemption., Cause being evil sucks. Options

[Olen]

And then... update?! Welcome back Jackie. I remember this piece, an interesting idea behind it though I must confess I forget some of the specifics. A recap might prove helpful, or of course I could stop being lazy and find time to read it again.

Anyway nice update. I'd never thought where all the cloth came from, nice touch of realism there. It's fun to read Angoril too, he has a certain way with people.

[jack cloudy]

Like a lot of games, or movies or books, the TES series tends to skip over the background industries that is needed to keep society running. We see a few token fields, but those look barely sufficient to feed the farmer's own family for example. All the mines are abandoned and the ones in Morrowind weren't all that hot either. So I think it is fine to use artistic freedom and put in whatever is needed as long as it fits. The land is a lot bigger in the lore than in the game after all.

For this update, I decided to revisit a pair of sidecharacters. I'm not sure if they've got enough going for them to support another plotline, but I just wanted to show that Hieronymous Lex and Sherlock-wannabe have done more than just twiddle their thumbs. But first, a recap. I need it myself just as much.




RECAP TIME! SPOILERS FOR EARLIER EVENTS FOLLOW.

One night, the palace is breached by unknown assailants. Following standard protocol for such events, the Emperor is secretly transported to the prison by his Blades. The Imperial Battlemage, Ocato, declines to join him, claiming that the situation is under control and that his services aren't needed.

Despite having reached the prison safely, the Emperor soon finds that he is still in danger. A Daedroth has followed him into the prison and it intends to make a late evening snack out of the old man. It is then that Uriel receives help from an unexpected ally. Angoril Bobardi reveals that the very cell he has inhabited for decades, contains a secret escape route that was built during the simulacrum at the order of Jagar Tharn. With this passage and the considerable magical prowess of Angoril, the Emperor manages to flee the deadly trap.

Also freed from the prison by Angoril is Maorlatta Orgnum, a young (by elf-standards) and somewhat naive girl who was arrested for the crime of sleeping in the park. Once free, she quickly makes herself scarce and eventually finds herself in the shack of an old fisherman who lives on an island in Lake Rumare. The fisherman seeks the help of the thieves guild to rid her of the manacles and prison outfit that would have every Legionnaire arrest her on sight. Unfortunately, the one assigned to pick the locks on the manacles informs Vicente Valtieri instead, who takes a personal interest in the girl’s talent for camouflage. Maorlatta is saved by the Redguard Sorian, a young and rather strange lad who keeps going on and on about something he calls an Ansei. The two team up to go treasure hunting in a nearby Ayleid ruin.

Meanwhile, Angoril returns to the prison. Pretending to be from the palace, he gets a vital clue from the Argonian private investigator Grey-Tongue. The Argonian sends him to Chorrol to find the source of the assassins distinctive red robes.




ACTUAL UPDATE FOLLOWS

Chapter 4.11

Imperial Prison hill

Work had progressed steadily over the last few hours in the Imperial prison. Never one to sit by idly while others obtained results, Hieronymous Lex had taken possession of the upper offices, after consulting with investigator Grey-Tongue who had concluded that the upper floors had not been touched by the mysterious summoner or his possible allies. The Desks, cabinets and other furniture had been lowered out of the window onto the streets below. Rearranged in front of the building, Lex had used the furniture to build his center of operations. Protocol dictated that the investigative center should be located in the main bureau down Talos’ Gap. Grey-Tongue however, had argued that it would result in an unnecessary bottleneck and slowdown if they had to run halfway across the city every five minutes to deliver or request a scrap of paper. The captain agreed. So now he sat just outside behind a cheap desk, confident he was near the main point of the investigation and in a place that wouldn’t require every single courier to stomp through the crime scene.

The downsides as he’d discovered, was that being out in the open also meant they were exposed to the elements. He wasn’t worried about the rain. It looked to be a dry day and stay that way till well into the evening. Just in case, a bright young Legionnaire had brought in a large canvas screen from the market and erected it over the cabinets and tables. No, water was not a concern. It was the wind that dared frustrate him now. More then once he’d ran after a report blown from his hands, and he wasn’t the only one. That still-air charm the Arcane University had promised couldn’t come soon enough.

“Good afternoon, captain. Any news?” Lex looked up to see that the investigator had finally deemed it worthwhile to come out of the Ayleid complex, his bleuish-gray scales now merely grey from old dust and dirt. In his hands he clutched the latest map of of the flooded tunnels.
“So good you could come, sir Grey. I’ve got news and I’m afraid you won’t like it. But sit down please. I did invite you to take a break and have lunch after all. The deliverymen shouldn’t take much longer to return. Jonesius! Take that map from the good investigator and hand it over to the clerks for copying, would you?” He said with a smile and gestured at the chair that till yesterday belonged to the head warden. The smile did not extend beyond his lips.

“You see, it turns out that our murderous summoner and his friends weren’t the only ones performing nefarious deeds.” The captain began, holding up his hands to cut off whatever it was the Argonian wished to say.
“I know, there are always some petty thieves mugging and burgling so this isn’t news. But the sheer magnitude of last night’s are. We have the massacre here, not to mention the breach of security at the palace that brought the Emperor here in the first place, Divines bless his soul. Four hours ago, the Arcane University contacted me and claimed that someone had accessed the mystic archives and stolen some very unique and very valuable volumes. Two hours ago, a courier came in and told me that the Imperial vaults had been opened. Half an hour ago, I got a report that Lord Geldall Septim’s mansion has been put to the torch by unknown agents. The current wherabouts of the prince and his family are unknown. I’ve sent out word to the other son’s, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they too were the victim of crime.”

Grey-tongue lit the fancy pipe he always carried and inhaled slowly, taking the chance to think. “You believe those are all related.” He hissed after a moment. The captain nodded and after a moment’s deliberation he reached for the box of cheap cigars he’d liberated from the office. Seeing the Argonian enjoy his pipe made him realize that he too could do with a nice and relaxing huff of tobacco.
“Don’t you, sir Grey?” He asked in between smokes.
“I do. It will require some formal paperwork before I can involve myself with the investigation of these other incidents, but I will begin asking questions all the same. First of all, what was taken, both from the Imperial vaults as the mystic archives?”

“The university couldn’t give me the actual title. The three stolen tomes are too old and faded for that. As for the vault, its security is part of the Blades and they didn’t even want to talk to me. Apparantly being captain of the guard doesn’t mean much inside the palace. I don’t even know if anything has been stolen, just that the vaults were opened and if I would please report any suspicious individuals and activities to them.” Lex said before tossing the lit cigar away. He’d barely touched it. Smoking today just wasn’t as satisfying as it usually was and he was certain it was not because of the inferior brand.
“I’ve got more than enough suspicious activities to report, but am sorely lacking in individuals. Normally I’d point at the Grey Fox as a suspect, but this whole thing isn’t like him. The thieves guild and their master may make a mockery of Imperial law, but they don’t start fires and they don’t murder. This isn’t the Dark Brotherhood either. Too subtle, too well organized for them. Honestly, I have no idea what is going on!” He pounded the desk for emphasis, sending up a scattering of paperwork and clerks rushing to catch the crucial documents before they were swept out to lake Rumare by the stiff breeze.

Grey sighed. He shared the captain’s frustration though unlike the Imperial, he didn’t show it beyond an agitated flick of the tail.
“Then I have the proverbial good news and bad news for you, my dear captain. The bad news is that something must have been stolen from the Imperial vaults. If nothing had vanished, its security would never have admitted to you that they have failed in their task. The good news is that I am quite certain now that our liege is still alive.”

The last words made Lex jump up. Like the sun breaking through the clouds, his smile had returned and all of his earlier anger seemed forgotten.
“Good news indeed! Please tell me all about it! You do that so well, after all.” He laughed and began to dance. After the first few steps he caught himself and made a conscious effort to calm down while Grey-Tongue wisely pretended to be oblivious to Lex’s momentary lack of discipline. It wasn’t proper for a captain of the guard to let himself go like that.

“There are three clues. First is obviously the lack of a body. We still haven’t found the corpse of either the Emperor or one of his personal guards. The second clue is from the four archers we found. Just before that Bobardi left for Chorrol, remember? I took a personal look while you set up your headquarters. What stood out right away is that the archers did not die due to drowning. I don’t know the real cause of dead, but they were still clutching their bows in rigor mortis. If they’d drowned, they would have let go when unconsciousness claimed them. Also important is the fact that some of the arrows at the scene showed the kind of damage they only could have gotten if they hit stone. And the only one we know they might have been fired at is our Emperor and his companions. Now as I said, we haven’t found a sign of them. No corpses, no blood or lost possession. Those arrows were used but missed their mark. I believe that sometime during that altercation the archers were killed. Again, I do not know how. They don’t posess the usual injuries of either weapon or destructive magicka.”

He took a deep draw from his pipe before continuing. The archers had surprised him, but it was the last clue that really confused his mind.
“The final clue is the submerging of the Ayleid complex. We already knew the flooding was both recent and sudden. I got a good look at the opening. It was smooth, perfectly circular in a way that suggest magic. I believe that is how Uriel Septim escaped. Aided by a mage worthy of legend.”
“But I definitely heard you tell sir Bobardi that was impossible. Something about shielding against the incoming water.” Lex interjected. He was certain he hadn’t misheard or misremembered.
“I did not. I said that it would be out of reach for all but the most powerful beings, such as the Tribunal or their alleged slayer. But I still do not see why the last surviving Dunmer god would become involved. Even if I reverse the situation and place this Vivec as an ally to the Emperor and foe of the assassins, the situation is strange. Why would a god wait this long, allow this much potential error? Even if the Emperor was merely meant to disappear, why not take him from his quarters through magic? Why wait till he flees to the prison to escape assassins?”

A sudden impulse took hold of the Argonian.
“Perhaps we have dismissed a seemingly unimportant element too fast, captain. The prison’s manifest. I wish to know just who the two prisoners were that joined our Emperor in his escape.”


OOC: To be honest, I don't know what to think of this update. It's a lot of dialogue, but I don't know how to liven it up. Both characters are just a tad too serious for any real jokes and the subject matter means that long lines of exposition are the norm.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Jan 17 2013, 02:38 PM

[Olen]

The dialogue worked fine for me. There was enough there to keep it fresh without needing an intermission or lightening.

I like how this piece is sort of following the events of Oblivion but with several things changed and following different characters. Sort of like alternate history, I'm fascinated to see how the events diverge from those of the game.

[jack cloudy]

I'm thinking of diverging a bit more than I'd planned actually. Originally, I was going to murder the Emperor offscreen and proceed with a rather standard Oblivion invasion. I remember that much of the original idea. But frankly, I now think that would be just stupid and undignified. I have to get my Oblivion-jollies somehow, but saying "and then the old man croaked because once outside the competency aura of Angoril he was helpless" goes too far. Fortunately, I posted an alternate theory on the forum here somewhere. I don't remember where, but I think I can use it to get my gates, the raised tensions and a living Uriel.

I also need to return to Corrupted Heart. Redemption will be making a few more callbacks than originally planned with the new plan. But first, back to our treasure hunters.


Chapter 4.12

Ayleid Ruin

The smell had grown so overwhelming, I’d resorted to clamping my nose shut. It smelt similar to part of the backalley where Delmar had taken me, though I couldn’t tell what it belonged to. All I knew was that it wasn’t part of the usual collection of offensive odours I was familiar with. It was also slightly different to the backalley one for that matter. The other scents were familiar enough. Vegetation, fungy and dust, lots of dust. That was the bad news, or the uncomfortable one at least.

The good news was that the tunnel had grown into a wide circular room. On both sides, just at the edge of my light I could see the openings of similar tunnels to the one we’d just come from. There were probably some more on the far side of the room but I’d have to get closer to make sure. The center of the room was taken up by a large reservoir of the murky water. Fortunately there was a raised walkway running along the edge of the pit. Finally I could step out of the water we’d been thrudging through. I really wanted to get my feet dry now. It’s not that I dislike water. I like it, we all do, but only if it is clean.

“Alright, looks like we’re in the city now. Not much light here either. There’s that welkynd stone way up over there though. That would fetch a good price. You wouldn’t happen to have a spell for that, would you milady?” My bodyguard chattered away happily, soon drifting off into a long list of Ayleid objects he’d spotted at pawnshops and hoped to fill his bag with. He didn’t even give me the chance to answer. Not that it mattered. Magic was one of those areas of my studies I’d never excelled at. I could barely scrape out a passing mark from my tutors and the spells I was confident in were rather basic to say the least. So no, that Welkynd light would stay where it was.
“Going by the light output, that thing is way passed the date it should be replaced, recharged or whatever went for maintenance around here.”

“You sure this is a city? It looks like a random pit to me. A random stinking pit. No furniture, no windows or even doors.” I finally said when the endless droning began to get on my nerves. What did he even know about things? Granted, the type of stone here was rather similar to the ones I’d encountered under the prison. Didn’t the Altmer or the brown one say that place was old? I wouldn’t be surprised if this ‘city’ was built in the same timeperiod. I wasn’t going to place any bets on being right though. Admiring the architecture had not been on my mind back then.
“Well ok, so it’s a sewer. To get to the city proper, we need to go up again. Now stop complaining and start looking for a ladder or something. I don’t feel like running down tunnels randomly…milady.”

I shook my head but didn’t argue. Arguing with Sorian was as I’d discovered, a one-way trip to massive frustration and lack of results. Besides, I agreed with the desire to not go running through these sewers. He had stopped talking now, aside from the occasional mutter to have more light sent in his direction. That left only the occasional splishsplash of disturbed water somewhere down one of the tunnels. That, and the annoying smell that just seemed like it kept getting stronger even though we weren’t moving anymore. It even wormed its way into my nose even though I’d squeezed it shut.
“Wait a second. Splashing?”
“Sir Sorian?” I called over my shoulder. With some amusement, I noted that I’d returned to using generically polite forms of addressing him. The wonders that some good old quiet and busy work did to my mood.
“Hmm, did you find anything?”

“Not yet. There’s this smaller stone wedged in the wall here Which I think is a….Nevermind that! I was just thinking that I’ve seen plenty of vegetation but no animals that feed on it. You mentioned walking dead earlier. Please tell me that was a joke.” Thinking back to when we were walking to the well, he had gone on for a while about various forms of undead. The thought of walking skeletons or corpses seemed like the kind of made-up story to scare little children, but what if it wasn’t a story? It was a whole new continent, filled with new wonders, new sights, new people.
“New dangers. If grandfather hadn’t skipped over that part, I’d never have left home.”
“Err, the guy at the tavern might have been drunk, but I doubt he was lying. Besides, it helps to be cautious. Why?” Sorian answered, obviously only half listening. He also just admitted that he was as clueless about this place as I was and I had to bite back a snappy reply.
“Because I think something stinking is somewhere down…” I waved at what I thought was the right tunnel. “There and it is getting closer.” I hadn’t even finished talking or something moaned. Now I was really starting to get scared.

Sorian finally snapped to attention.
“Ok, that definitely wasn’t a good sound. And you said it was getting closer?” He said as he moved over to the tunnel I’d indicated and peered down it. A futile gesture really, since my light didn’t reach that far.
“How about we head back the way we came? No need to find out what it is. We could look for another entrance or a different ruin. Right, sir?” Again that moan, the splashing now loud enough that the Redguard heard it too.
“No! An ansei never flees before his enemy! He stands his ground and faces his foe with courage and honour!” He snapped at me all of a sudden. With a swish, his leapt into his hand and he retreated a bit closer to the center of the room, where he stood right beneath the floating flare. If anything would come in, he would be the first thing it saw.
“Now keep looking for a ladder, or a door or something!” He added.

I don’t know why I didn’t run and left him there. Maybe I was more scared of him than of the approaching dead-but-not-dead horror. So I bent back towards the odd stone I’d found and examined the grooves that cut deep into it. They looked familiar. Deep inside the grooves was more of the shimmering Welkynd stuff which helped make them stand out. It could be an expression of art, primitive art, but why put it in a place where it wouldn’t be seen?
“Ok, I can see it now. Zombie! Have at thee, miserable cur!” Sorian yelled behind my back. The following sounds of flesh getting torn and that unnatural moaning made me wince.
“Please kill it! Tell me it is dead, tell me it is dead!” I whimpered, but the violence didn’t cease.
“No! It is not dead! Falling apart with guts hanging out, but it is not dying! Now why aren’t you looking for the damned ladder?!”

The brick was the only things I could see. If I just focussed enough on it, maybe the fight would go away. Nonsense of course, but my head wasn’t thinking clearly anymore. As for the grooves, it occurred to me that they were indeed familiar. They were obviously meant as a message of some sort, and meant to last too. The script was crude, different and written in an unknown language, but it definitely had its roots in first era Meric. I could make a good guess at the core of what it said. Something about fire and opening.

I looked back at the fight. Sorian seemed to be holding his own, not that that was very impressive. The walking corpse was as clumsy as it was revolting. Each time it took a wild swing at him, he would dance just out of reach, nick the flailing appendage with his sword, then dart in for a quick strike of his own. It didn’t seem to do much good. The horrible monster appeared to have no need for vital organs, most of which were exposed and halfwithered anyhow.

“Sorian! Get closer! Over here!” I yelled and waved, hoping to get his attention.
“Why?! Kinda busy here! Why won’t you just die!” He shouted back and turned to face me. Big mistake. Finally one of the swings hit home and knocked him off his feet. The zombie lumbered in closer to the young man, who skidded backwards, trying to get back on his feet but not inside the monster's reach. He crawled too far and tumbled over the edge into the central water reservoir. Just before he went, I could see the shock on his face. He’d not planned for this.Neither did the zombie, who simply followed. Nor I, who ran down to the edge and screamed his name.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Jan 17 2013, 02:39 PM

[Olen]

Another update. The slightly perculiar pair are still in the ruin, something about them puts me in mind of JRPGs for some reason.

I enjoyed to zombie as a less powerful but rather indestructable opponent. I might have to steal that idea...

[jack cloudy]

Just a quickie. I don't really want to write Angoril in Chorrol since it would basically be him stopping at a post office for five minutes. So instead I gallumped up a small bit before Chorrol. It's not much, just some infodumping. Next will be some more Grey-Tongue. I've got a perfectly good cliffhanger going with L&S that I don't want to waste.

Chapter 4.13


Chorrol

Before following the lead Rosendorf gave him, Angoril decided to stop by Kvatch. This was for three reasons primarily. First was that he was becoming rather hungry. While Rosendorf had thoroughly bribed and praised him, he had not offered a meal. He could easily kill and fry the first rabbit, bird or other edible animal that crossed his path. However, he’d never developed a taste for meals conceived outside a well-stocked kitche. So given the choice, he preferred a proper meal cooked by a proper cook. With his newfound wealth, he could easily afford one at middleclass tavern.

The second reason was a more pressing one. He knew the rough geographical location of Kvatch, but it was not a place he’d ever visited personally or paid any particular attention to when reading a map. Chorrol he knew intimately, and so could cast a shiftgate towards with a margin of error of only a couple hours marching. With Kvatch, that same margin of error would grow to encompass an area that would take days to cross on foot. And that was if he headed in the right direction after stepping through the portal. He wasn’t planning on wasting valuable time being lost, so some form of transportation would have to be procured at Chorrol, like a merchant caravan headed that way. Or better yet, a very detailed map so he could shiftgate from landmark to landmark all the way to Kvatch.

The third reason was the priest Grey-Tongue had mentioned as a means of staying in contact with each other. Strictly speaking, he did not need to inform the Argonian of his activities. However, Angoril knew his limitations. He could follow one trail well enough and deal with any complications he would encounter. What he could not do was being in two places at once, though he was aware of an illusion-related spell that would allow him to do just that. But the effort required to maintain said spell in a magickapoor environment such as Nirn was enormous. Not to mention the attention it would draw to him if some enemy of his were to notice. Grey-Tongue’s scheme on the other hand, suited him perfectly. By simply keeping the agreement of information-exchange, they could follow multiple lines of investigation independently and crossreference each other’s sources when needed. In the best-case scenario, Grey-Tongue and the legions would find, apprehend and interoggate all surviving members of the red-garbed group for him.

The only problem with the priest the Argonian had mention was that Angoril had simply arrived too early. He did not believe in idly spending time on the roads, but he wasn’t going to let Grey-Tongue realize just how fast he could really travel either. Angoril knew that the Argonian would not miss that detail. The investigator had been far too sharp-eyed back in the prison for that. The best option he could come up with was to not contact Grey-Tongue’s friend, at least not in person. If he bounced a letter to the Imperial City via Bruma through the simple expedient of using an envelope marked with two different inks, one visible till it faded and one invisible till it became visible, he could delay the arrival of his information. With all of his problems momentarily solved, he arrived at the gates of Chorrol.



OOC: Yes, the whole 'don't know where to find Kvatch' is really just an excuse to draw his timeframe back in synch with those who are not blessed with wet fast-travel.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Jan 17 2013, 02:39 PM

[jack cloudy]

I'm trying something new here. Since Lex and Grey-Tongue literally sit around and talk, I decided to write the dialogue first and then everything around it.



Imperial Prison Hill

“The prison’s manifest? It’s not all in one document, that would be too unwieldy. I had someone grab all the paperwork we could find and store it in a couple of crates for now. I’ll try to find something useful.” Lex said and began to rummage through the boxes just to his right.
“Looking back, I should have ordered him to sort the mess before stashing all the paper. Let’s see what we’ve got here. Gambling tally, who’s in debt with who, some crude drawings…very crude, a poem of some sort…that one is actually not too bad. I wish I’d met that poor guard before. Man had talent. But I digress. Ah, this looks like a good place to start. An occupancy list of the prison cells.” He continued and handed over a thick book whose cover had seen better days.

Grey-Tongue had to put out his pipe before accepting it. Talking with the smoking instrument dangling from one’s mouth was an art he’d seen often before but had failed to replicate. He blamed it on his lack of lips.
“Yes captain, this looks helpful. It only gives names and some very basic information however, so I’d appreciate it if you were to look for a manifest that can give us more about the persons behind the names. As for this one, it seems that the book is arranged by prisonblocks and then a section for each individual cel. Which prisonblock is the one we’re looking for?”
“V, it’s the last one.”

The Argonian thumbed to the end of the book where he found the three pages they were looking for.
“Thank you…It seems that block V had a few guests over the years. Cell 1 looks like it has been empty for the last few years, which fits our observations of its usage as a storeroom. Cell 2 was last occupied by one Valen Dreth.” At the mentioning of the name, Lex grimaced, as if he had eaten a particularly sour lemon.
“I remember that scumbag. Picked him up at the Elven Gardens a few years ago. The mazte was practically spilling from his ears, so drunk was he. In the end we got him charged for public indecency, making lewd gestures, excessive swearing, damaged property, harassment, threatening a guardsman, attacking a guardsman, possession of skooma with intent to sell and probably a few more things. There were also two or three accusations of rape, but the victims didn’t posess the finances to challenge him in court and we had no hard proof so we couldn’t charge him for that. Considering the rest of the filthy laundry we’d uncovered by that time though, I privately asked the judge to take it into consideration even though we couldn’t mention it during the trial. Not a pleasant character, that one.” He growled.

Grey-Tongue waved off the comment with a hand as he flipped the page to the last cell.
“Indeed. You may get the opportunity to arrest him again and add escape from prison to the list. The records here say he has been imprisoned for five years. Scheduled release is in another seventeen years. Last is cell 3, the one with the secret passage. This cell has only had two occupants since its construction, it seems. The first one was entered in 3E 399, no mention of the specific day, an Altmer male named Mezanin. No scheduled release. As for his crime, it says here treason. The second entry is anomalous and incomplete. None of the other cells ever contained more than a single prisoner at a time, but cell 3 received a second occupant. Name is Maghlada Ognim, female Bosmer, crime is vagrancy and failure to present..something, most likely identification papers. It ends there, no dates filled in and some question marks around the name. Which tells me two things. First, the writer wasn’t certain the name the prisoner gave was her real name and secondly, he was interrupted before he could finish. We can both guess the nature of said interruption.” He finished and closed the book with a heavy sigh. Like Lex had said, the manifest had been good for a start. But instead of answering questions, it had thrown up more. Lex’s familiarity with Dreth had surprised him somewhat. None of the proven crimes seemed major enough for the guard-captain to get involved with.
“But he does still patrol the streets himself despite his station. So it isn’t impossible.” Grey-Tongue thought to himself. He did not mention what he thought about Dreth’s escape. The footprints that led through the passage were almost certainly those of Mezanin and Maghlada. Dreth had not been killed either and the summoner did not seem like the type to leave witnesses. That meant he had left along with the summoner. Either as a prisoner…or an accomplice. He did not want to say it, and the captain was smart enough to figure it out for himself. In fact, going by the man’s dark expression, he already had.

Lex grit his teeth and looked at his clenched fist as he muttered under his breath, saying how he had been too soft.
“I should have killed him that day, the gods know the law gave me that right. That’s hindsight for you, always nagging on how things should have been done different. I’ll find him again, friend. I swear I will. And next time he’ll wish he’d killed himself and saved me the trouble.”
His fist smashed into the crate and he relished the pain in his knuckles. It gave him the focus he needed to stay calm and pay attention to the more important things.
“But enough about Dreth. Clearly we want this Maghlada or Mezanin for questioning. As for the Bosmer, I’d just like to add that a questionmark next to the name does not mean the name given was false. It could also mean that the warden simply wasn’t sure of his spelling. It happens all the time really when we don’t have any papers of identification to fall back on. All it needs is a heavy dialect or a speech impediment and r’s can become l’s, b’s become v’s etcetera.” He spoke with deep breaths. The anger was still there, but pushed away for the moment.

Grey-Tongue blinked and picked up his pipe again. He hadn’t thought of that.
“I see. That is also a possibility. Thank you, captain. Lady Maghlada could have been planted to intercept our liege, but I find that doubtful. Not enough time for a proper infiltration. She hadn’t even been written into the manifest yet. I’ll classify her as an innocent witness for the moment, possibly foreign. Now let us return to this Mezanin. There are three things that catch my interest just from this manifest and all are potentially related. First is the date itself. 3E 399 is the last year of the simulacrum. At the last day before 3E 400, Jagar Tharn was slain by the Eternal Champion and the true emperor restored to his throne. This, together with the mention of treason, implies that Mezanin was either an opponent of Tharn, or a supporter of Tharn and imprisoned upon Uriel’s return. I can’t tell you which one is more likely at the moment. The third item is the hidden tunnel we found. This Mezanin is the oldest prisoner in cellblock V and he has not been moved away from cell 3 at any point. This means that our passage has been there since before 3E 399. I need to know when block V was actually constructed, but I put it as very likely that cell 3’s escape route has been built during the simulacrum.”

Lex whistled at that. He had heard of the simulacrum even though he hadn’t been born yet. Of course he had, who didn’t? There was the annual memorial festival, complete with the laying of flowers at the mausoleum of the Eternal Champion. He always liked that day. For once everyone seemed to get along. That someone who had actually lived in those days had been under his very nose all the time amazed him. Of course it was nothing special for an Altmer to be this old, but the early days of Uriel’s reign and Tharn’s had been a more xenophobic one. All the Altmer he knew had immigrated to the city long after the simulacrum.
“So we have an old man who has been here for the greater part of Uriel’s rule, sitting right next to a secret tunnel leading out of there. If he’s been in jail for so long, then why didn’t he leave through the passage? I don’t care how well hidden the damn opening was, there are too many coincidences piling up in this case for that guy not to know about it.”

Grey-Tongue nodded. There was no evidence that either Mezanin or Maghlada had known about the passage. But he doubted that the Emperor and his Blades knew either. And for it to be found by coincidence, right at the moment of need? No, the most likely theory was that Mezanin had known all along, yet for some odd reason had not taken advantage of it.
“True, I believe he must have known. And here we come back to our need for a most powerful mage. Mezanin could be one quite easily. One who has vanished from the world for decades could easily be forgotten. It takes many public displays of expertise or annual remembrances for someone to escape obscurity. To the current generation, he might as well not exist. He could be a member of the Psijic Order, or one of the lost archmages from the Simulacrum. We probably won’t know unless we ask Mezanin himself.” The Argonian said and lit his pipe.

“Hell, for all we know, he might be Tharn himself!” Lex laughed, slapping his knee. His friend fixed him with an intense stare.
“Don’t even say that as a joke, my friend. For you may find an unwanted truth behind your merry.” He hissed.
“You’re seriously considering that option?”

Grey-Tongue shrugged.
“Why not? There are no eyewitness reports of Tharn’s demise. All we are told is that the Eternal Champion one day ventured into the palace, saved Uriel Septim and challenged the treacherous Battlemage to a duel that claimed the lives of them both. No one I know has ever seen the Eternal Champion, or knows more than I do. All we have are the vague words our Emperor was willing to say on the matter and a mausoleum in the Champion’s honour. We don’t know what race he was, or even if he was a man. We don’t know his age, whether he was a swordsman or a mage. Nothing. For all I know, the Eternal Champion does not exist and Tharn was not slain.” He said and bared his teeth in a mimick of a human’s smile.
“But be light of heart, sir Lex. Tharn would never wait decades on the off-chance the Emperor needs his aid to flee the city. Why would he? They’re mortal enemies.”

They were interrupted by a guardsman who marched up and stood at attention, waiting for Lex to acknowledge his presence. The guard-captain waved the man to wait and turned back to Grey-Tongue.
“True, true. That would be inconceivable. Well, I know that for me Tharn is dead. I won’t ask you not to weigh every possibility, no matter how strange, but please don’t get carried away with them.” He said before looking at the guard once more.

“At ease, soldier. What do you have to report?” Lex asked the younger Imperial. The man seemed like a new recruit to him and very nervous over having to deal with a guard-captain as well-known as Hieronymous Lex. He was so nervous that his ‘at ease’ position barely differed from when he stood at attention.
“Sir! A food courier has arrived! As by your orders, sir!” The soldier barked. Lex stood up and gave him a friendly smile. He knew better than to scare of a new collegue.
“Well then, my good man. Pay him, have him give his wares to the good investigator here then return to your duties. Keep up the good job soldier.” The two guardsmen saluted each other and the Imperial left. Lex shook his head, still smiling, as he turned around. No doubt the recruit would tell all his mates that night over how he had spoken to the Hieronymous Lex.

“Now then. It looks like your well-earned lunch has finally arrived.While you’re eating, sir Grey, I’ll round up some troops to have this crate sorted out. Once we’ve found some descriptions of the three, I’ll have the troops and informants instructed to keep an inconspicuous eye out for our witnesses. Fortunately I’ve still got a sketch of Dreth from his trial, I’ll have that one taken out of the archives and copied. He'll be the most famous Dark Elf in the city before you can say Fetcher.”

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Dec 4 2011, 07:34 PM

[jack cloudy]

This is taking way longer than it should. Anyway, I think I'll stick with the M & S storyline for a bit. Otherwise they'll be in that damn ruin throughout the whole damn story. Also, awkward flashback moment.

Chapter 4.14


Ayleid Ruin

“Sorian, Sorian!” He wasn’t coming up, he just wasn’t coming up! The water was sloshing madly at the edges of the reservoir, but I couldn’t see his head breaking through the surface. He should have gotten right back up here after falling in. But he wasn’t, he wasn’t.
“Sorian!” He had been conscious when he went in, but maybe he’d faded away from the shock of going under. Blunt trauma wasn’t necessarily instant. Recalling that blow he’d taken, I remembered Ellbelith, one of my friends back home.

Oh, young foolish Ellbelith. So handsome, so charming, so athletic, so stupid. He’d been impressing the womenfolk by riding three snakes at the same time, jumping from back to back, doing handstands and other things that were suicidal in retrospect. But we loved it, and never asked ourselves why all the elders seemed so careful when riding the snakes. Then one time he missed, or a snake got cranky and threw him off, it didn’t really matter which. He landed on a rock, headfirst, and should have died right then and there. But he just smiled and waved at us. He seemed alright, though a bit wobbly. Considering myself the healer at the scene, though I really was nothing but a stupid apprentice without a license at the time, I looked him over and sent him on his way. I called him the luckiest mer ever that morning. How wrong I was. He died that evening, during diner. Something ruptured when he swallowed and drowned his brain in his own blood. If I’d done the right thing back then and sent him to my teacher, or just any real healer, he could have gone back to doing stupid things without a care in the world and break a leg by the end of the week.

“No…Stupid Latta! This is no time to daydream. Sorian!” With effort, I forced my thoughts back to the here and now. The reservoir’s surface was now almost completely calm and he was still down there. By now, I’d lost track of time. He could have gone under hours ago, or merely seconds. It didn’t really matter. I couldn’t wait any longer and hope he would climb on his own. I was not going to lose him, not because I started daydreaming about stupid memories instead of helping him. I took a deep breath and dove in after him.

The water was cold, dirty and dark. Even my hands vanished in the grimy depths. My eyes were useless here, so I simply closed them and focussed on the senses that remained. With my ears and my skin, I could make out two disturbances trashing about in the water, both originating from somewhere below me. One was strong, the other so very faint. The temptation to head for the stronger one was overwhelming but I came to the conclusion that it was most likely the zombie. It hadn’t appeared to be inconvenienced by everything else that had occurred to it up to this point. I kicked off towards the weaker one, or at least tried.

“Come on! This is no time to get my legs tangled up in that dress…stupid thing, let go!” That garish garb the man had given me had been light and reasonably comfortable when it was dry, but now it soaked up the water like a sponge and became like a heavy sticky blanket wrapped around my limbs. Whenever I moved, it would tangle me up. I struggled with it, tumbling about till in the end I managed to untie the waiststrap and let the whole thing drop over my head where it drifted lazily to the bottom. This time when I kicked off, I sped around it and down like a fish. The weaker of the two disturbances had now faded beyond my ability to sense it, but I remembered where it was and went straight for it, reaching it in three strokes.

It was Sorian my fingers finally brushed against, much as I’d hoped it had been the rancid flesh of a very dead zombie.
“Sorian! Move! Show me you’re still conscious! Shake an arm, kick a leg! Oh, he must have breathed this unhealthy water, the fool.” Even as I pleaded him to hear my thoughts, I hooked my arms under his and forced us back up to the surface. He was heavy and I needed to push off from the bottom just to get us going. The way back up took much more time than the swim down, time Sorian didn’t have.When we finally broke the surface, I took a break just long enough to refill my lungs with fresh air.

“Ok, Sorian. Take a deep breath, fresh air is here. Sorian? Sorian! Wake up! Oh, this is bad. Ok, got to get you up on dry land first. Gods, you’re heavy!”
Lifting him up onto the walkway took almost all the strength I had left. But I had no time to rest now. Getting up onto the ledge, I finally got to take stock of his condition. It didn’t look good at first. He still wasn’t responding or breathing and I had the feeling that he had consumed more than his fair share of liquid without transmuting it into the breathable gases. The good news could be summed up in two quick points. Firstly, his heart was still beating, albeit slowly and far too weak. Secondly, his pupil dilated when I held a Flare up to his face. So in short, he was alive and savable.

I decided to tackle the problem in steps. Death by nontransmuted water-intake had been little more than a footnote in my textbooks. It practically never happened. Still, I did have a good idea on what needed to be done. First I had to get him breathing again, and then I could worry about everything else.
“Ok, two things I need to do. First is to get the water out and second is to force some air in. Or I could do both at the same time by transmuting the water.” I thought on it some more as I started on some simple electrical stimulation of the muscles involved in the breathing. He coughed up some, but not enough. Transmutation on another person was one of those theoreticals I’d never tried. I’d discussed it though and according to my master the easiest way was to treat the other person as if he was part of my body instead of another entity. If I connected our airways, I could transfer my own transmutation spell to Sorian. In theory.
“It’s worth a try. I’m not making any progress like this.” I said to myself and put my mouth to his.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Jan 17 2013, 02:40 PM

[Olen]

Ha, I'm sure he won't take that the wrong way when he wakes...

A good set of updates, I can't see how Sorian and Latta fit into the crisis but I'm sure it will become clear with time.

I like how close to the truth Grey is, even if he doesn't know it yet.

[jack cloudy]

Well at the moment they've got nothing to do with the plot at all. I need to get them out of that ruin first. I do have some plans to get them involved and hint; it involves some other characters we already met. I also just came up with a Pyandonean garb that is most likely completely lore-inaccurate but too awesome to leave out. I'll have to find a way to add it in somehow at some point. But for now, let's just continue right where we left off.


Chapter 4.15


The hardest part wasn’t to start and transfer the process, nor was making contact with some of the water flooding his lungs. It was actually remarkably simple. No, the hardest part was not to gag and puke. It was vile, filled with dirt and rotten particles of flesh. There was precious little oxygen to be obtained from it as well. The water was above all, dead. But even if it wouldn’t provide him with air, it would clear his passageways. And that was what he needed most. After a while of doing that I couldn’t taste any more of the water. I counted to five before returning to stimulating his muscles to induce breathing while blowing in a lungful of my own as well. Expand the ribcage, blow in air. Contract, and breathe for myself. Repeat.
I did not know at which point Sorian began to breathe again. At this point my actions had become like a well-trained reflex as natural and mindless as walking. I ceased jolting his chest and let him decide the rhythm from this point on. His motions became stronger by the second and it wasn’t long till he opened his eyes. I didn’t notice, so absorbed was I by the breathing-routine. It was when he stirred and tried to raise his hands that I did.
“I didn’t know you feel about me that way.” Were the first words that dragged themselves beyond his teeth as soon as I’d lifted my head, though the last vowel vanished in mighty bout of coughing as his body tried to clean itself.

“Hold still, let me check your head. Does it hurt anywhere?” I felt around his skull for the location where he’d been struck. I was expecting to find a darkening bruise or swelling at the least and a major skull fracture at worst. The natural darkness of his skin didn’t help me in that regard. Still, it should have been somewhere near the back and sure enough, he had a big bump forming already. That wasn’t something I could fix without my tools, which I now remembered were still at that prison. The best I could do was give it a gentle frosted poke. Which made Sorian bolt upright and windmill his arms which was not what I’d planned.
“That’s cold. I was just making a…guh…joke! No need to get cranky, milady.” He protested while staring directly ahead at the nearest wall.

I rubbed my nose where he’d hit me. It didn’t seem to be injured, but it sure stung.
“No humor. I was just trying to constrict bloodflow. Don’t move. Now, any pain anywhere?” I asked again. I don’t know what it was I did different, but for once he listened. He also seemed to get better amazingly fast. Already his coughing fits seemed to die down to the occasional spasm.
“Chest…and head. Thank the gods I…cough…swayed with that punch.” Sorian answered and pointed at both the bump and all of his ribcage.
“Good, that’s pretty much what I expected. You’ll probably be coughing for a while yet. I got most of the water out, but it was very contaminated and there is still a lot of dirt and worse in your lungs.” I didn’t mention the electric therapy I’d administered. A certain muscle-ache was a common result from that. He wouldn’t notice it anyway over the burning in his lungs.

“Try not to cough too hard, you might tear something. As for the head, you really were lucky you don’t have a fracture, as far as I can tell at least. But don’t make any sudden motions and for Nirn’s sake, don’t swallow heavily. I can’t find any other injuries at the moment, but you’ll have to take off that yellow thing of yours before I can perform a thorough examination. And would you please stop admiring the walls. It is very rude to hold a conversation with a lady without looking at her.” I said as I moved back in front of him. Sorian averted his gaze towards his toes immediately, which bothered me. Maybe he was injured more severely than I thought he was. Very slowly, as if he didn’t quite know the right words to say, he replied.
“Well I would if it wasn’t for your current attire. And speaking of that, what happened to that very nice tunic I gave you?”
I felt my skin darken, shifting colours to match the gloomy stone of the walls and the floor. When I blanked out, I’d completely forgotten I’d discarded the borrowed outfit in the reservoir. I stepped back behind him as fast as I could.
“Forgive me, good sir, for it eluded my thoughts. The dress I was obliged to discard within the waters. It is not meant for swimmers and I could neither reach nor save you with it. I shall strive not to be this vacuous of mind again.” I said and after a moment’s thinking I added something.
“I shall recover it later. The water has already soiled me and another venture into its depths would not make a difference for me.”

The Redguard sighed, as if I’d just said something wrong again.
“Right. I’ll just try not to look in the meantime. Thanks for dragging me out by the way, I appreciate it. I really thought I was going to die.”
“If it wasn’t for my aid, sir, you would. And no thanks are needed. It was the appropriate course of action and I’m not the type of person to just observe as people die. But enough about that, sir Redguard. As we are now, we have two pressing issues that must be attended to. Firstly, we need to remove your garb so that you may dry before you catch a cold. Secondly, we need to depart from this place in case another foe comes seeking conflict.”
Sorian shook his head and I grabbed it to stop him. He was about to try and shake off my hands before thinking better of it.
“O…k…You’re really talking strangely now. I’m not sure if I quite follow…Now wait just a second! Yes, you saved my life but I’m still in charge here. We’re not leaving this place without treasure, I’m not getting out of my clothes and you’re not going to ‘examine’ me either.”

His words surprised me. I didn’t think I was talking oddly. Then I realized what he meant. I’d gone from straightforward healerspeech to extremely formal and awkward nobletalk. I mentally slapped myself for letting my embarrassment control me. When I next spoke, I made special effort to talk normal. Normal in this case, meant snappy. Very snappy.
“I wasn’t asking for your opinion. I’m your healer and I will check you for injuries whether you like it or not! That means you don't talk back at me, you don't make jokes, you don't try to be witty and you will do as I say! And I didn’t mean we head back the way we came. I think I found your door, or a sign that points at one. Look.”

I reached over his shoulder and flung a flare at the signstone. The little fire bounced of the rock but then I managed to wring it into the grooves. The response was instant and exceeded all my expectations. Like the splitting of wood under the lumberman’s axe, entire slabs of stone slid away to reveal an opening that lead to what looked like a small room. I think I was as surprised as Sorian.
“Woah, and here I thought you were just making things up when you were bragging about all those languages.” He muttered and moved to stand up. I grabbed him by his shoulders and pushed him back down. He should not be moving yet and I really didn’t like what he’d said.
“Hey, are you implying I was lying? And don’t move. If you have to walk, then let me support you.” I bit as he squirmed beneath me with his eyes squeezed shut.
“I can walk on my own. And no, I wasn’t implying anything. It’s just that, well…you looked like a beggar so I just assumed a few things. That’s all.” The Redguard countered. With an angry shout, I let go and walked away.
“Suit yourself, fool! Just yell if you keel over and break something. I’ll just go pick up my clothes then.” When I looked over my shoulder, he had indeed struggled onto his feet. Some people were just impossible to control, as I was finding out. At least the trouble with his lungs took away most of his stamina. I could probably get him to lay down again once his curiosity had been sated.

“See if you can find my sword. It’s got to be down there somewhere.” He called back and moved towards the opening. I hesitated, not knowing what to say. His sword. I really did not want to grab it. It was that damn sword that got him into this mess in the first place. If it wasn’t for that, he wouldn’t have insisted on fighting. If it wasn’t for the sword, he wouldn’t have gotten injured and nearly died. If it wasn’t for the sword, I wouldn’t have been so worried, I wouldn’t have had to go into that filthy water twice, I wouldn’t have been embarrassed and I…would have been killed by the man in black. I did owe my life to his sword, and I did require for Sorian to be armed eventually in case that man tried to kill me again. But not now, not here. I finally made up my mind.
“If I come across it, I’ll bring it along.” I finally said and jumped in before he could reply or figure out how I’d twisted the truth. I wasn’t lying, really. I just wasn’t going to give it back to him until I deemed him fit to use it.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Jan 17 2013, 02:40 PM

[jack cloudy]

Despite my earlier bluster about not minding another swim, my first thought upon hitting the water was that I needed to get out now. If I’d stopped to think first, I might not have jumped in at all and just decided to endure till we got back to the bags and my prison-outfit that we left at the bottom of the well.
“I really should have paid more attention when father tried to teach me that telekinesis spell. That would have saved me both dives. Seriously Latta, next time your choice is between watching boys and learning potentially useful but boring magics, choose the magics.” I scolded myself and hurried to pick up the clothes and sword. Both were fortunately in roughly the place I was expecting them. The tunic had settled halfway to the bottom and the sword was right where I’d found Sorian. I was grateful, not just because it saved me time looking for them, but also because I wouldn’t have to get close to the living corpse that still refused to die or realize that its wild flailing didn’t accomplish much.

With both in my arms, I finally got to see what was beyond the wall myself. Even before I stepped through the opening I knew I’d found something interesting. The Redguard was as loud as he could be, talking about pots of gold and rainbows. And it was true that we’d found the proverbial mollusc with a thousand-year pearl. This room had actually been inhabited. Fragments of wooden furniture lay in a large pile with some more durable artefacts among it. I conjectured that I was looking at a table or a wall-mounted rack that one day simply decayed too far to support the weight of the metal and crystal objects it had carried. Sorian picked up one, then another, holding them up and shaking them like a newborn child with a toy. He sure didn’t act like an eighty year old should. I shook my head and cleared my throat to get his attention.

“Right, right. I’m back, brought your sword and got my very wet clothes. Now would you please…” I didn’t even get to finish my sentence.
“Oh no, absolutely not. I don’t know what got into you all of a sudden, but I’m not taking off my clothes and you’re not going to poke me with those cold hands again. Now give me my sword, please.” Sorian said, holding out his hand. I could do nothing but sigh and shake my head again. His utter stubbornness and refusal to even listen was unbelievable. Well, if words wouldn’t do it, then I’d just have to match my own thickheadedness against his. So without another word, I tossed the sword out of the room and then cast a flare at the opening/closing brick that was inside. The wall resealed without leaving a seam.

“Hey! Open the door! I asked for my sword and you threw it away. That’s not funny!” Sorian growled and approached me. His face and posture scared me. He looked like he was actually willing to hurt me just to get that bit of metal back. But I told myself I had enough of being pushed around by everyone on this forsaken continent. It didn’t matter whether I was scared or not. At the moment I was the one who held all the cards.
“Don’t even try it. You need me to leave this room and I can’t cast the spell if you injure me. No, that sword is staying right out there and we are staying right in here till next morning.” I growled back at him. I must have done it right, for he stopped while still at arm’s length from me.
“You really became bossy all of a sudden.” He said softly. “And what if somebody finds it, then what? Did you even think about that or do you just get off on bullying people?”

I really lost it at that point. I simply started yelling at him, having completely forgotten how he scared me.
“I’m not bullying you! This is just because you cut me off everytime I try to say something! And I did think about it. Nobody has been in this room for centuries, just look at all the dust or valuable artefacts. If there was anyone in this land who could read the signs and act on it, they would have ransacked this place already! So even if somebody comes along and sees the sword, we’ll be perfectly safe.”
Sorian nodded and then shook his head. He seemed to understand me, but just didn’t agree with what I’d said. Not that that came as a surprise.
“That’s not the point. I know this room is undisturbed. I’m not blind. All I’m saying is that sword is important to me! Not as a weapon, though it is one, but as a heirloom. The bone and spirit of my father’s father resides within it. I can’t just let some goldseeking ruffian walk off with it. I’d never be able to wash off my shame if I did.” Bones and spirits? I was familiar with veneration of ancestral remains and the desire to keep them close to you. But to place them within a weapon, that was nothing but barbaric. I could see that Sorian wasn’t going to give up till he got what he wanted though and for once, I actually felt like agreeing with him. It was a barbaric practice, but respect for one’s elders, both dead and living, were the cornerstones of a stable society.
“Tomorrow, no earlier…Unless you do what I’ve been asking you all this time.” I muttered.

I needed more. Just saying what I wanted wasn’t going to help. I needed arguments, good ones. Arguments he could understand and agree with. I needed to make him trust me enough to forget about his very good sense of modesty.
“Look, I told you I had a license as a healer. I was right about being literate in this ruin’s script, so why can’t you believe me about that? I’m not getting any enjoyment out of pushing you around like this, out of treating you like you’re a toddler that can’t think for itself. And the last thing I want is to touch you. I get the shivers just thinking about it. But you just lost a fight and nearly drowned! I have to make sure you’re healthy…reasonably healthy, and won’t develop any further complications that I could have prevented if you’d let me. I’m the type who would never forgive herself if I overlooked anything and you ended up crippled or worse! And I don’t mean you need to take off everything. All I’m interested in is your upper torso. So please, would you let me help you?”

After a long silence, he finally nodded and smiled.
“Well, ok. An Ansei would never neglect his flesh and neither should I. I’ll let you help me.” I was so relieved I felt as if I could jump and touch the ceiling.

My examination was rather basic as I lacked all the required materials for an indepth one. But basic was sufficient. I tested his response to heat and cold, reflexes and hand-eye coordination, asked him how he felt and if he had any earlier injuries in his past that might become a factor. I observed a few scars, but those were old and didn’t hinder him. After I was done, we gathered up the wood and made a fire. The room soon became nice and warm, allowing us to be comfortable and our clothes to dry.

“You look ok, or as well as you possibly could be considering the circumstances. Just remind me to brew you some decent tea and get your lungs cleared out once we get back in the city.” I said that night as we sat beside the fire, my back to his and both eating the soggy remains of bread Sorian had carried with him. Overall, I was quite satisfied with how things had turned out. It felt like we had reached an understanding of each other and could now put all the bad blood behind us. It turned out that when we weren’t yelling at each other, we got along quite well.
“Thanks. Are you sure you want to go back there though? I thought after what happened that you would want to stay away from there. I know another town nearby. Chorrol. It isn’t too far. One day, maybe two days to the northwest. We could go there instead no problem. I know the way.” The man said behind me. Another town? I thought about it, but had to reject the proposal.
“But this Chorrol is not the capital. It must be smaller, and less likely to hold the wealthy buyer we want. No, we have to go back to Cyrodiil. Whether I like it or not.” I said and shivered when I thought of the alley where I met my newest friend.

“Honestly, you’re right. I’m scared of going back. What if he finds me again, or what if I run into that Altmer again? He never hurt me, but I might just be more scared of him than the black-robed one. The one that called himself vampire.” I continued. I didn’t say what I thought next. It was none of his business.
“The one that smelled like family.”
I put the last of the bread in my mouth and swallowed. Both strangers had scared me. Yes, the black one tried to strangle me while I had the other to thank for releasing me from the prison. But the vampire had only tried to kill me, an unarmed and mentally harmless young woman. But the Altmer was something else. Personal discomfort was strange to him, three men with swords didn’t faze him. Invisible assassins couldn't hide from him. He’d killed four armed and hostile archers, no doubt with some sort of despicable magic. Not just that, but he had frozen that big monster, the daedroth, like it was nothing. And then when he brought us out by making a wall disappear. The vampire had been dangerous, but the Altmer held power. Real power, the one my family would start a war for. I was shaken out of my reverie by Sorian.

“What Altmer?” He asked.
“Ah right, you never met him. He was…” I stopped. I couldn’t tell him I’d met him in a prisoncell. Sorian thought I had been a beggar and even though I was starting to get the feeling he wouldn’t respond too badly to the truth, I wasn’t ready yet to tell him.
“A magician of some sort. Very focussed. It was just chilling how nothing mattered to him but that one thing he wanted.” Yes, focussed was the word that described him. Focussed, and willing to pursue that focus.
“So what did he want?” Sorian asked next. I could hear that he too had finished his meal and had picked up that sword of his. He was muttering under his breath about rust as he stroked it.
“I don’t know. I just don’t, but it must be something big.” It was when I said those words that I realized just how big the tall mer’s goal must be. We’d met the Emperor of this empire, Septim himself! The Emperor, and he’d been treated as a pawn, a tool. I could kick myself for not realizing the implications of that. The Emperor, I’d met the emperor!
“Something really big.” I whispered and fell quiet.
“And I didn’t show him the proper respect or even attempted to start a diplomatic relation. Grandfather would be so angry if he knew how I blew that chance. He’d never accept personal danger as an excuse.”



OOC: I think I'm done with the Sorian and Latta storyline for now. Angoril is still in transit so next we'll rejoin Lex and Grey-Tongue as they further unravel the mystery of Uriel Septim's dissapearance.

[jack cloudy]

OOC: Ok, I lied. They've gone out on a sidetrip.

Chapter 4.16


Imperial City, Talos Plaza

Beyond the Cyrodillian hills, the sun had only just begun to settle for the night. Within the tall walls of the Imperial City, it had already set for over an hour. Grey-Tongue trembled with subconscious relief when he finally stepped through the portal of his home. With all that he had learned today, the world no longer felt safe to him.
“Miss Wolfer? I have returned and brought a guest.” He called out at the empty hallway and hung up his coat while Lex began to unbuckle his armour. There was a clattering in the kitchen, then an elderly woman came out into the hallway to peer at the two.

“Is that you, sir Grey? Oh, and it is sir Lex as well! So kind of you to visit.” Miss Wolfer said with a smile and her bent back became even more crooked as she bowed to the Guard-Captain. Lex mimicked the bow with the ramrod straight precision of an ex-legionnaire.
“Good evening, miss Wolfer. It is my pleasure. However, I’m afraid my coming here was not decided by kindness. I have requested sir Grey’s aid in a matter of extreme importance and though he has rendered his aid admirably, we are still far from done.” He replied formally while his hands returned to the task of untying the loops of leather that held together his armour.

The woman shook her head. It had been obvious to her the moment she saw the state the two men were in and the documents carried by her Argonian employer.
“I was afraid that was the case. That also explains why you are both so dirty. Why, it is as if you have been digging through the ground like moles! Honestly, it does not befit gentlemen of your standing to dirty themselves like peasants.” She sighed before continuing.
“Leave your coat and steel in the basket if you please, sirs. Jensine will be coming by tomorrow for laundry and I’d hate to see the floor be dirtied. Now then gentlemen, would you like a nice cup of warm tea?” With a nod at the woven basket sitting next to the coathanger, the maid returned to the kitchen.
“Gladly, miss Wolfer. Gladly. We’ll be in the living room. Now then, Hieronymous. Care to join me? You absolutely must try that new sofa I purchased.”

The two let themselves sink away in the soft pillows, enjoying the feeling of aching muscles being supported by a cloud of feathers. It was after the busy sounds from Miss Wolfer’s cooking and tea-brewing had resumed, that Grey-Tongue leaned forward to whisper the question that had been on his tongue since the moment they left Lex’s office at the Waterfront.
“Are you certain?”

Lex grimaced as he remembered finding the neatly sealed envelope in his desk that should have been locked. It was locked, but the envelope had not been there when he’d done the locking. He knew of only one faction that had the means and the will to slip envelopes into his office without anyone noticing. It had happened over twenty times before, and he’d never enjoyed the sense of inferiority it gave him.
“Yes. As much as I hate it when they do that, every time the Grey Fox has deemed it necessary to slip a note in my desk, the information written on it has been perfectly accurate. This time I believe will be no different. Thieves they may be, but they’re not murderers and are more than willing to bring the arm of law down onto anyone who crosses the line from burglary to bloodshed. Of course, they’re too smart to walk up to the front door so we can arrest the lot of them. No, they break into the office of the watch by stealth and leave without leaving anyone the wiser.” He said.

“Besides, I am obligated to respond to any crime I’ve been made aware of, especially the serious ones like murder or accessory to murder. You remember how I deposited a note of my own in Argelius’ box just before we left? He and his troops should be on the streets by now. They know how to act subtle, when to ditch the armour for beggar’s sackcloth and how to grab that cat’s tail without anyone noticing. Best people for the job, when you want to fight stealth with stealth and need men you can trust. When they’ve got him, he’ll be brought here. I thought it best to interrogate him in a place where there won’t be need to file official reports. The Nine know the people are already on edge, what with the jailbreak and Ocato announcing that the emperor is bedridden for the third time this month.”
“Miss Wolfer will not appreciate this, but I agree that we should keep an empty book for now. Let’s just hope we get our hands on a witness soon and get the emperor back on the throne before the whole kettle blows.”

Tea and dinner was served and Grey-Tongue had informed miss Wolfer that he was expecting more guests, but that she would not have to attend to their needs anymore this evening. The woman took the hint, for it hadn’t been the first time Lex had made use of the privacy his friend’s house offered. She knew when to ask questions and when not, and this was clearly a day where she should go knit upstairs. The Imperial and the Argonian were left alone, to review the latest reports and when they were done with that, to catch up on old times. The clock had rung midnight when there was a soft knocking to be heard on the window. The two went into the hallway where Lex picked up his sword before nodding to his friend to open the door.

There were two figures that could just barely be made out in the darkness outside.
“Sirs. He’s all yours. Call us when you’re done. My men and I will be on lookout duty around the district.” One of the two figures said with a nod to the two and pushed the other figure through the door, where the light revealed him to be a rather dishevelled Khajiit. He left before anyone could answer. Hieronymous Lex brandished his sword and pushed the Khajiit towards the living room. They all sat down. Grey-Tongue back on the sofa, the Khajiit on the ground and Lex on the table where he could still reach their captive with his sword.
“Now then, you probably already know why we’re here. My Argonian friend and I are going to ask you some questions, and you are going to answer. From what we’ve hear, you’ve been a naughty kitten. Care to tell us all about it?” The Khajiit growled, staring at the naked blade. Even though Lex was not wearing his uniform, he recognized the sword easily enough. The weapons were always marked and though the number didn’t tell him the name of the owner, it did tell him his occupation. Guardsman.

“This one has done nothing! Who is the human, who is the scaled one? Who are these two, that dare attack innocent Ra’Jezhr?” The beastman spat and was rewarded with a soft prod of the sword. Not deep enough to wound, but deep enough to be very uncomfortable.
“Merely two concerned citizens. Alright, enough games. Recognize this signature?” Lex answered smiling as he pulled the Grey Fox’s envelope out of his vest-pocket.
“Grey Fox….No! Ra’Jezhr has never seen this mark. Never!” The Imperial’s smile vanished.
“You already let it slip, so forgive me if I don’t buy your crap. Play-time is over, so out with it, Fuzzball. What is this about the murder your infamous master accuses you of?” He growled.
“Look, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. The easy way would be to come clear now, bring everything above the table and then receive a fair official trial. The hard way would be to say nothing, get me angry and ends with your friends taking matters into their own hands. From what I’ve heard, they don’t treat traitors kindly. So, what is it going to be, wiseguy?”

The Khajiit hesitated for only a heartbeat. Imperial justice could be harsh, but thieves’ justice even moreso.
“This one has mouths to feed, many mouths. So many mouths, so much trouble. Thieves guild does not help. Guild says, go find money, go steal. But no, can’t steal from the rich people. Too many guards these days. Can’t steal from the poor people, guild doesn’t like. So this one goes hungry, this one’s mate and little ones go hungry.”
“Get to the point. Today, if possible.” Lex interrupted. Grey-Tongue waved a hand and spoke for the first time since opening the door.
“Relax, my friend. Khajiit are longwinded. Step on their tail, and the story only gets longer. Now then, please continue, Ra’Jezhr.” The Khajiit looked from one to the other before continuing.

“This one becomes desperate, goes to the rich places. But this one not brave. Good with locks, this one is, but not brave, not sneaky. Then, it happens. This one is on the roof of rich one’s house. Quintillius Litius, is his name.”
“Litius died, he was murdered a few weeks ago. By a vampire.” Lex whispered to himself. He did not like where this story was going.
“Just for once today I want to find a simple case that can be cleaned up in a few minutes without jumping into a bigger case that is connected to it. You can’t tell me this mongrel is our killer vampire. You can make me believe a lot of things, Grey Fox. But not that.”
“Yes, murder. This one finally finds courage to sneak in. This one finds death.” Ra’Jezhr continued.
“Litius is there, other thing is there. It looks like man, man with Khajiit-teeth. Man with knife, man that drinks blood. Ra’Jezhr is no longer brave. Ra’Jezhr tries to flee. Thing catches him. It says Ra’Jezhr is not tasty. Too hairy. Too stinking. It smells that Ra’Jezhr ate garlic, it not like that. It knows Ra’Jezhr is thief. It says to take what Ra’Jezhr wants. It says Ra’Jezhr may live. But this one can not go freely. This one must be quiet. This one must find murderers like it.”

Again the story was interrupted by the guard-captain.
“Other killers? It asked you to find other vampires?” He asked but the thief shook his head.
“No, not vampires. Not murderers. Those who can become thief like Ra’Jezhr. Or murderer like thing. It wants sneaky ones. Grey Fox not ask for thieves. Thieves come to him, he says. He tests them, he says. But this one found sneaky not-thief that did not come to Fox. Not-thief not ask to join. Not-thief only here to loose manacles. Ra’Jezhr good with locks, so guild asks him to free not-thief that does not ask to become thief. But not-thief sneaky, so very sneaky.” Now even Grey-Tongue was getting uncomfortable with the Khajiit’s tale. It looked like Ra’Jezhr was not just involved in two cases, but even a third now.
“And when did this not….person come to you?” Lex asked, already fearing the answer.
“This morning.”

Grey and Lex exchanged a silent glance. Both thought the same words.
“The prison-escape was yesterday-night. Just a few hours earlier.”
“Could you tell us more about the not-thief?” It was Grey-Tongue who now took the lead in the interrogation, something for which the guard-captain was glad.
“What about vampire? Does swamp-man not wish to know about vampire?” Ra’Jezhr asked and flinched away from the sword as it lowered slightly.
“All in due time. I am certainly interested in the vampire, but I’m also interested in the sneaky one. What does he…or she look like? What’s the not-thief’s name?” The investigator now asked. The reports so far had not given a description of either Mezanin or Maghlada. In Meghlada’s case, the impounded possessions had strangely enough not included clothing, which made even an accurate guess towards height impossible. Just an unknown species of beetle, possibly a pet. Mezanin’s possessions had long since been sold off.

“Not-thief is woman, tried to say name but Ra’Jezhr say not to. Ra’Jezhr is thief, thieves do not know names. Keeps them safe when caught. But Ra’Jezhr knows that sneaky not-thief is one of the tree-people, but strange. Smells wrong, is wrong. Hair like glass, eyes like milk, skin…skin is snow one moment, skin is black shadow the next, then colour of wall. This one says to himself, not-thief very sneaky, sneaky like the snake in grass. This one remembers vampire. This one afraid of vampire. Afraid to go ask, more afraid not to ask. Vampire comes, watches in shadow. Not-thief knows it is there. Not-thief run. Vampire follow.” The Khajiit said with wild gestures as he got into the story.
“Did the not-thief get away from the vampire?”
“This one not know. Vampire and not-thief gone. Ra’Jezhr all alone now. This one goes away. This one hides. Then beggars come, hit Ra’Jezhr, make him stone. They take him here, to tell story.

They continued the interrogation, but the thief knew precious little beyond what he had already told. Finally, Lex signalled out the window for Argelius to take the Khajiit with him again. Where he would be place now that the prison was no longer accepting new inmates, he did not know. But Argelius would find a place to keep him. Once the two had left, the guard-captain shook his head.
“Gods, I hate talking to uneducated beast-people. They’re so hard to follow. But the time, the gender and assessment of race matches the profile of our witness. Fortunately there was no vampire-victim reported today. So there is a chance she’s still alive.” He said.
“Indeed. And we received a description. Granted, that colour changing the Khajiit mentioned could make our task harder. That, and I doubt anyone would remain in the city for long after encountering a monster like that. Oh, and on another note. Please remind me to have Jensine pick up some groceries when she returns with the clean laundry.”




OOC: Gods, third-person Khajiit-speak is painful to write. I'm also certain I messed up his name once or twice. But enough of that. Merry Christmas, people!

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Jan 17 2013, 02:41 PM

[jack cloudy]

OOC: And I get lost on another long detour. I should really learn this arcane art known as plotting. Also, I realized that I was using chapters back before the...coffeebreak. So let's cut off the overly long chapter four here and get back to chapter five where the storylines come back together. Hopefully. One of these days. Maybe?

Redemption

Chapter 5: Convergence

Weye

As soon as we’d woken up, we’d picked up the bags we’d filled and left the ancient city. Sorian had wanted to go in further and I had asked for breakfast, but both wishes went unfulfilled. The man admitted that last night’s bread was all the food he’d had and I’d pointed out that we’d already filled one bag and I was not looking forward to more trouble. So leave we did. Down the long long sunbleached roads, with nothing to eat but a few plucked berries. It was enough to keep my mind off the fear for our destination, or the ache of exhausted legs, or the worry that sprang up at Sorian’s occasional cough. But my stomach was still rumbling. So when I spotted a building that advertised food and drinks, I took my chance. An opportunity to still my hunger and delay the inevitable was too good to pass up. Besides, he needed the rest as much as I did. Trying to look inexhaustible was a well-known manly vice, but it wasn’t healthy.

“Hey sir Redguard, could we stop for a bit? I still need to think of what to say when we try to sell our wares.” I said and was already taking smaller and smaller steps. Sorian’s eyes first looked at me, then slid over to tavern’s sign swinging in the wind.
“By which you mean that you are hungry, you’re legs hurt from walking and you think I’m pushing us too hard again. So you want to go into that tavern and get yourself a nice warm and very expensive meal.” He shook his head and grinned. I tried to find another excuse. I was not going to admit being manipulated by such simple urges as hunger. Ok, I was. It wasn’t as if I could really hide how my belly had been growling all day.
“Actually…I give up. I do, sir, very much so. We didn’t have anything to eat for breakfast so you shouldn’t be so surprised. I mean it. If I don’t get to eat something soon, I’ll lose my mind.”

Again that grin, as if he was amused by my confession. But then his own stomach growled as well and he burst out into laughter.
“I hear you, lady. I’m hungry too and my chest is starting to bug me again. I would have packed more than a small on-the-road snack if I had the money though, or if I knew I was going to have an extra mouth to feed. I’m practically penniless now and I still need to keep something to buy us passage through the gates. Maybe I can get you some of mazte, but that’s just about it. Things are cheaper in the big city’s slums, if you can handle the taste and wait for just another hour.” Cheaper food from the slums? Would that be like Delmar’s moss-covered stones that used to be bread? If so, I’d rather pass on it.
“I think I tried that once. It wasn’t exactly my thing.” I said. The Redguard shrugged at hearing my answer and moved for the door.
“Alright, come on. I’ll get you something to drink. At least we can rest our legs for a few minutes and I do owe you.” He said over his shoulder and I eagerly followed him inside. Even if all I would get was this Mazte, it would fill me up a little.

The inside was dark, with light only coming in through a few grimy sheets of glass. I didn’t like the interior much. Tables and stools were spread in a chaotic fashion, an old fireplace at the right with a spitted piece of meat dripping fat in the flames, and a rickety staircase that looked as if it hadn’t been used in years on the left. There were no lightsources, no way to bring in fresh air beyond that brought in every time someone stepped through the door. And it reeked of muddy shoes, sweat, mealscraps lost in dusty corners and spilled liquor. The place was evidently a popular enough spot, though it could do with some cleaning. And a more refined clientele, maybe some nice paintings and flowers? But maybe the owner had simply given up on trying to keep a clean establishment and move up in the world. All the other patrons I could see were either travellers like us, or farmers and fishermen who had come here directly from their respective work-locations, not even bothering to wipe their shoes on the doorstep. I couldn’t see who was offering service here, every single one of the dozen or so people I saw looked just about the same to me. Same clothes, same manners, same smell. Then Sorian jabbed a helpful finger at one of the folk inhabiting the room.

She was tall, an effect that was only magnified by the spiralling tower of hair whose tip actually rubbed against the ceiling. That right there was the first aspect that made me instinctively dislike her. Then I noticed other things. Skin of gold, grimy hands leaving long streaks where she wiped them off on her vest. A voice dripping with condescension that her friendly words could not hide. It was the visage of a person who thought they really were too good for the fate life had dealt them.
“I’m not trying to be rude, but that’s our host?” I gagged, which made Sorian frown. He then looked at me intently before whispering back.
“Is that a problem? It’s not worth losing your temper about, even if she is a bit taller than you.”

“Of course it is, I thought the stories were all exaggera.…” I began as I stepped back towards the door, towards my peace. But she’d already spotted us and was coming, casually flipping a plate from one hand to the other. It was too late to leave now so my only remaining option was to shove the Redguard at her and then head for the other end of the tavern.
“You talk to her. I’ll go find a table. As far away from her as possible.”

It wasn’t hard to find an empty table. It appeared that lunchtime for the majority of the customers had already ended, judging by all the filthy plates without owners. There were plenty of open seats to choose from. I took the one in the darkest corner, right underneath the staircase. From there I watched as Sorian engaged the Altmer in conversation. Fragments of conversation drifted down to me. Where he was from, what he did for a living, if he was going to the city and if so, she knew a few spots he absolutely had to visit, who his ladyfriend was and so on. It seemed to be ages before the subject of food and drink came up.

Finally after a good ten and a half minutes, minutes that made me regret counting them, he joined me at my table with a clay jug, two cups and a smug grin.
“Well, I didn’t have enough to order anything decent, Nerussa gave me a discount on this jug of mead. It’s honeywater, great stuff. She’s a wonderful woman and you should really talk to her. She knows so much about who’s who in these parts. She even gave me directions to the one guy in the city who’s got a reputation for paying good money for anything Ayleid.” He blabbered as he put the cups down and filled them up. My mood sank even lower. Not only had she taken ages to render basic service a child could give, but now they were also referring to each other by name?

“Nerussa? Oh, I’m most happy for you, seeing as how you’re already on a first-name basis with that Altmer, sir. And just moments after meeting as well. How skilled you are.” I put the full weight of my mockery into the title. Again he stared at me intently and shifted on his stool. He threw a glance over his shoulder at the other patrons, then moved just right to block my view of them, or their view of me. It could be coincidence, but it almost felt deliberate.
“That Altmer? It’s as if you’re talking about a rat and you never even met the woman. Really, calm down. There’s no need to get worked up over nothing.” He said, threw another glance then adjusted his position. It was deliberate! But why?
“I don’t need to.” I spat back as I got annoyed not just by the woman whose loud voice hammered my ears from down near the fireplace, or the subject of my conversation with the Redguard, but also by his secretive behaviour. Just what was he trying to do? Shield me from sight, as if I was something he really didn’t want to be seen with?
“You weren’t that hostile about the one last night. Seriously, are you cranky because you’re hungry, or are you just jealous because I don’t refer to you by name?” That didn’t even merit an answer. I sighed and sniffed at the cup before trying it. I’d expected it to be sour, but it was surprisingly sweet. Regardless of the other faults this tavern and its host had, the mead was indeed great stuff. I calmed down a little. Maybe he had been right and I was just angry because of hunger and exhaustion. The liquid wouldn’t help much with the former, but the stool did help with the latter problem.

Sorian relaxed as he drank his as well and soon slouched back into a more comfortable posture, incidentally exposing me to the gazes of everyone else again. If they cared to look. I wondered why he had been acting so weird before, but decided not to press the issue. He did keep stealing glances over his shoulder from time to time though, as if he was trying to confirm something. And after what must have been the fifteenth time, he revealed what had been on his mind.
“Hey, did you notice that man down by the corner?”

I leaned to the side and looked towards the far end of the room. There were a few men there, none of whom really stood out to me. The lack of decent lighting didn’t make it easier to find any distinguishing features.
“The bald one?” I tried but he shook his head.
“No, the old one with the headband. I swear he’s been looking this way since we first came in.” He whispered as he returned to his blocking position. I didn’t even get to see who he meant. He had been surprised that someone had been looking at me? To me that wasn’t exactly new.
“Of course he does. People always stare at me when I come to places like these. It comes with my family.” I said matter-of-factly and refilled my cup. As far as I was concerned, that was the end of that. Not for Sorian though.
“You do remember that you’re a stranger to the people here, milady? Yet he hasn’t looked at the travellers who came in after us. Only you, or me. And I don’t like it.” He pressed. He did have a point. I was a stranger here, and so nobody could judge me by my family heritage. So then why was he looking over here? Well, we were the two most colourfully dressed travellers here. So maybe he was just like Nerussa, and wanted to know where we were from. Sorian had said it was an older person, so pretending not to notice him would be rude.
“I’ll go talk to him.” I said and ignoring his protests, I slipped around him and walked straight for the stranger. Almost straight. I had to swerve towards the wall in order to pass the Altmeri hag without compromising my personal space.

The only man with a headband was old, seven centuries at least and probably well on the way to his eight. Not just that, but upon reaching his table I found out that he stank of pus, rot and disease. This man was sick, probably from an injury I couldn’t see. I hoped he hadn’t hid it beneath that mudcaked and lice-infested shirt he wore. Maybe that was why he had been looking at me. He was seeking help and somehow he knew that I had some knowledge of the healing arts?
“Excuse me, sir. It came to my attention that I have been the subject of your interests. Can I help you?” I greeted formally and bowed. The elder looked confused for a moment but then he smiled.
“Ah, well. Your young friend caught me staring. I apologize, that was rude of me. You just looked like someone Tunius told me about when he came visit me last evening. To see how I was doing. The person he described was very…distinctive and you match that description to a tee. Are you Malada Ognam perhaps?” He replied in a croaking frogvoice. Malada Ognam, that did sound like my name, if you don’t spit out the tees properly and forget the throatgurgle at Orgnum. But who was Tunius? And why did he receive a description of me? I mentally shrugged. This elder didn’t give me a bad feeling and he was in need of my assistance. So no need to get scared over nothing.
“Maorlatta Orgnum is the name, at your service. Although, I am not familiar with this Tunius you mention.”

Sorian caught up with, grabbing me by the shoulder and hissing a warning in my ear. I instinctively edged away from the sudden contact and I could swear that both the young and the older man focussed even more of their attention on me.
“Milady! He’s a stranger!” Sorian repeated more urgently. He obviously didn’t share my compassion with the wounded.
“It’s fine. He needs me.” I said back and brushed him off.
“What if he’s with the vampire!” At this, my heart did skip a beat. We were too close to the city for comfort and the vampire had been one of the few who got a good look at me. I thought hard on who else could describe me. There had been the armoured people from the prison, but they were dead. There was the greyskinned barbarian, but he got eaten. The Emperor and his protectors? I couldn’t think of a reason for them to grab me. They had barely even noticed me. All their attention had been on the sorcerous Altmer. Him perhaps? He wouldn’t need the help of a random grandfather to catch me. Then who was left? There was the Vampire and the talking animal. Both of those had good reason to take me and knew what I looked like. Was this poor man bullied by them? Sent to talk to me and catch me off-guard?

He had been looking at us all this time and I realized he had been waiting on one of us to talk to him again instead of just standing there and thinking. When the silence dragged on too long, he broke it himself, neatly sidestepping the accusations in the process.
“You don’t know Tunius? But you went fishing together, just yesterday! He said you were a good luck charm to him.” Fishing? There was only one man I’d gone fishing with. And while he had led me into the hands of the vampire, I knew that hadn’t been his intention. It was all that furred thing’s fault. I clapped my hands in delight. This elder was one I could trust after all!
“Oh, you mean Delmar! It’s ok, sir Sorian. This man is a friend of a friend. Now please take your hand off your sword, you’re making everyone nervous. And mostly me.” I said, pointing at the shining steel tucked behind his belt. Sorian scowled for a bit before letting go of the hilt. I did notice that he kept his hand close to it, but I felt that this small victory would suffice for the moment. I was pretty sure that he hadn’t intended to hack the poor old man’s head. He just wanted to push him away with a silent threat. At least I hoped so.


“Ah, so I was right all along! I’m Aelwin Merowald and I could use a good luck charm myself.” The old man continued as if we were old friends. Sorian’s hand snapped back around the sword as he leaned over the table, bringing his face level with Aelwin’s.
“Are you trying to ask us to do something for you, Breton? What is in it for us?” He asked in a chilling tone. I just couldn’t believe him. Just where did he learn proper manners and conversational etiquette? Nowhere apparently.
“Sir! Don’t be so rude to Aelwin. He’s an elder and a friend. I told you already, didn’t I? Don’t be so….aggressive.” I hissed into his ear.
“He’s your friend, not mine. And we have our own worries. We can’t help everyone we come across out of the purity of our hearts.” The Redguard replied without shifting or averting his gaze from Aelwin. Again I urged him to back off.
“Sir.” I didn’t quite manage the commanding tone I was looking for because my empty stomach betrayed me with embarrassing timing.
“All I’m saying is that I’m willing to listen if he buys us lunch.” Sorian snickered. I turned my back to him in a huff. Just when it seemed I’d manage to make myself seem useful to him, the world had to conspire and humiliate me. Even the old man was laughing. So hard he almost fell off his stool even.
“Someone, please make me disappear. Now.” I muttered in my native tongue. Fortunately no one heard me over their own laughter. That would have just made the embarrassment complete.

“Haha, you’re an honest boy. Alright, why not? It’s not as if we can hear each other talk while your bellies are growling like wolves. Nerussa! Give these two the Hawnett special, would you?! Put it on my tab!” The elderly Breton waved at the golden flagpole before continuing. Within moments, two plates with a round yellow vegetable, a long orange one and a piece of charred meat were placed on the table. It wasn’t much, better than what Delmar had in his shack, but not exactly a meal that required an extensive kitchen-education. What the Altmer didn’t give was cutlery. But I was so hungry at the moment that I didn’t care much. I happily began to consume as I listened to the rest of the story.
“Now then. I’ll give my lifestory while you people eat. Like Tunius, I’m a fisherman. We go way back, always looked out for one another. There were a few escapades when we were younger, but for the longest time, back since the Simulacrum actually so probably before you two were even born, we’ve been fishing here at Rumare. I was mostly content with my life but we’ve gotten older since then and I saw that the day would come where I wasn’t going to be able to row my boat out anymore. I was more right than I expected.” His face turned grim as he indicated his leg. When I leaned over to get a closer look, I could see that it was wrapped in filthy cloth and partially amputated. A wooden cup was affixed to the end where the foot had been. If those bandages hid a fresh wound, I would want to have a long talk with whoever had ‘treated’ his injury.

“Can I look at it?” I asked but he winced and hid it beneath the table again.
“No, it’s not something young eyes should look at. It’s ghastly and I don’t want to destroy your appetite. Besides, the healer did a good job for the little money I could spare. There wasn’t enough left of my foot to save and I later got an infection that had to be cut away, but at least I lived and didn’t lose the whole leg. Can’t fix the missing bits without a big heaping of expensive magic, and I was told I’m too old for regenerative treatments, whatever that means. Bottom of the line is, I can’t move my leg right anymore and that pretty much ended my fishing days. I wanted to retire, but not like this.” He said and winced once more.
I didn’t know what was worse, implying that I didn’t have the stomach to bear looking at a large wound or the implication that his leg was only lost because he lacked the funds for magical treatment. Besides, I didn’t agree with the diagnosis of him being too old. Yes, he was indeed in the final stage of his life but master Zelrith said that even the most intensive restorative magics would only take a few years off of that lifespan. If they took more, the subject was dead already before he hit the ground. Aelwin still had a few decades to spare so he should have been given proper treatment instead of this insufficient hackjob. I would take the judgement of my mentor over that of an anonymous moneygrubber.

The fisherman, former fisherman, didn’t continue and I realized he was waiting for one of us to ask the obvious question. I took the bait.
“What happened?”
“I made a deal with a student at the university a few weeks ago. He needed scales from the Slaughterfish for a project and I needed the aid he could lend me to support my failing body. Of course, he was too smart to hunt for them himself. Smarter than me, he was. I’ve never fished for them myself but I thought I could manage with my decades of experience. Hah! I should have listened to my old man, bless his soul. Never hunt Slaughterfish, he said and for good reason. The monsters are all violence and teeth. It was one of those naturally, that damn near bit my leg off. It wasn’t quite dead when it flopped onto my boat.”

He didn’t need to say more. I could already figure out what he was going to request of me. He had not realized I had received some training in the healing arts. No, he’d just heard from Delmar about a young woman who was rather good at fishing and wanted to send me out in the lake. I had no problems with that. But having me fish for those maddened predators? No, last time I got lucky. I was not going near another Slaughterfish ever again, not while sane. Not even at the request of an elder. Though my chest tightened at the thought, I had to refuse.
“I’m sorry Aelwin, but they frighten me. They frighten me very much.”

He nodded and said. “As they damn well should. But there is another way. Its mating season right now, and the Slaughterfish are all shedding their scales in exchange for more colourful ones. The shedded scales all sink to the bottom in these neat little clumps. Delmar said you were a natural swimmer, Maorlatta, like you have some Argonian in you. If you could just gather some of those, you don’t even need to get close to the fish. Please help an old man out. I’ll lend you my boat, I don’t need it anymore anyhow. It’s beached beneath the bridge. Your boyfriend can handle the oars while you go underwater. Or maybe he goes underwater and you man the boat, you two can decide that among yourselves.”

He excused himself as he dug into his vestpocket. From it he retrieved a ring, a simple undecorated band of gold that shimmered as if some invisible lightsource was playing on it. The ring held magic.
“Also, take this ring. I got it as an advance payment. It’s yours now. It allows you to breathe underwater. Just imagine, no longer having to come up every half a minute to get some air.” The elder explained and held it up for me. It was a rather unnecessary gift, especially since I could stay under for a good half hour instead of half a minute. But refusing a gift is rude so I took it. As for his plan, it sounded safe enough. As long as I kept my distance, the Slaughterfish weren’t a threat. The only issue was time.
“Thank you. Your gift is much appreciated. I don’t see a reason to refuse, Aelwin. The young should aid the elderly. But we did have a few other matters to attend to this day and I’m not sure how it would work out time-wise. What do you think, sir Redguard?” I said and turned to Sorian. He didn’t seem too happy, fidgeting on his stool, frowning and pretending that he was preoccupied by finding the last few crumbs on his plate. I thought he was going to refuse but finally he relented.
“Gods, you look like a lost puppy! Fine, if you really want to that much, I’m not stopping you. Besides, he did give us a meal so we owe him now. Just don’t stray too far from the boat, ok? I’ll need you to pick me up if I fall out and you need to get back in quick if you see one of the scaly bastards. Now come on, we’ve wasted enough time already.” He grumbled and headed for the door.

“Thank you for the meal, Aelwin. I’ll get back to you later. Is that alright?” I stood up, bowed to the elder and followed my companion.
“If you come by in the evening, I’ll get you two diner. You can go take care of your business first and take care of mine on the way back. I’m not going anywhere.” The fisherman yelled at us. I nodded to him and left the tavern. Out under the cloudless sky again, we hadn’t even taken five steps towards the bridge and sprawling city in the distance before Sorian turned to me.
“Why are you on a first name basis with him within moments after meeting? Can I complain now like you did with me and Nerussa?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.
“No, you may not.” I told him.
“Bummer”




OOC: Ok, a few things. I did not actually go into the Hawnett inn to see what it looked like on the inside. I just made things up. Also, Weye is the most ridiculous example of downscaling in Oblivion. It's called a village, but it has a grand total of two buildings, one of which is the inn. Three if you count the stables at the other side of the bridge. As for the characters, I didn't go much further beyond checking the UESP for race and gender. In Aelwin's case, I do always pick up his quest on the way to Jauffre, but since I play Argonians, There is no motivation to ever actually finish it. Besides, Morrowind gave me a major fish-phobia.

Speaking of the quest, I changed things a bit. I made his injury a bit worse than what he has in-game and forked over the reward before handing in the goods. There is also the nonsense about mating season and shedded scales, which I came up with when I realized that Latta was NOT going to hunt Slaughterfish and Sorian couldn't swim anyway. But by now I had this whole conversation written down and she's kinda big on doing the right thing so I wriggled my way out it by separating the loot from the beast.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Dec 29 2011, 09:06 PM

[jack cloudy]

And we continue the new year with our scaly Sherlock.


Chapter 5.2


13th Talos Plaza

It was passed noon and Grey-Tongue had retreated to his study. Now, seated before the window with today’s Black Horse in his lap, he watched the window without seeing it. Before him, motes of dust sparkled as they swirled through the beam of light. Any other day and he would have found endless entertainment watching their dance unfold. But not today. News travelled somewhat slower than the Imperial information network, but it travelled fast. Always proud of their ability to get news fast, the Black Horse courier had not only gotten the news, they had then gone out to do interviews and collected letters, which were added onto the initial report before the ink had even dried. The paper loudly proclaimed the burning of the estates of all the Septim heirs and already conspiracy fanatics were overwhelming the newsmen with the wildest theories, all which was dutifully placed in the special edition. One claimed the heirs were doppelgangers installed by Tharn who had received their just due at the hands of observant and patriotic staff. Another that the heirs had run afoul of Tharn himself, back from the dead to continue his mad war against the dragonborn. More worldly commentators suspected the Dark Brotherhood, or whatever race was the favourite target for their individual xenophobia. The one thing all agreed on was that the Imperial princes had fallen amidst the flames that had reduced the proud mansions to rubble and ash. The Black Horse stressed that these were however the words of opiniated individuals and that its readers should reserve judgement until the investigative bureau disclosed its official report.

There was a second article that worried Grey-Tongue. It was hidden among the last few pages, along with such snippets as ‘lost dog found’, ‘Bastien Fine Goods closes, owner thanks all his customers for their loyal purchases’ and the outcome of the Skingrad horse races. The article was short and devoid of the lavish attention that had been given to the headline news. To sum it up, it stated that Guardsmen had picked up a ‘suspicious individual’ near one of the razed estates. The man who was later identified as Gaston Ebberich, a pious traveller visiting the temples of the Nine, died during questioning. Grey-Tongue could already imagine the angry letters that would be placed in the Black Horse tomorrow, raging against the ‘increasing brutality of the guardsmen’ and how ‘protecting the law does not place one above it’. What all those letters would miss, was one tiny detail. The pilgrim had been wearing a red robe.

The Argonian stood up and moved to the window amidst the rustling of paper falling to the floor. Beneath him, life seemed to be moving as usual. People of all kinds milled about in ordered chaos. Perhaps today the conversations of gossiping women and men had taken a darker tone than yesterday but if so, he could determine from here. He contemplated opening the window, let in the cacophony of the streets. His hand rested on the knob but did not move.
“Perhaps I am becoming paranoid. Three letters, one word and I fly into a near panic. Red clothing is not so uncommon that an innocent man couldn’t wear it as he ventures near a crime scene.” He scolded himself, the words already hollow before they’d escaped his tongue. He knew that he wasn’t paranoid, he couldn’t possibly be paranoid. The Imperial family did not live in one place, their estates were situated all across the far reaches of the province. And all had been burned at the same time, the same time the Emperor was attacked and vanished.

He knew what Hieronymous Lex would say if he asked. Already he could hear the man’s voice, the gritting of his teeth, the creak of clenched fists covered in hard leather.
“One estate can burn, two can burn in the same night. It would be unusual and grounds for investigation. But it could be simple coincidence. But all three, within the span of a few hours, and the incident in this very city! No, that was not coincidence. It was planned, organized in advance with the kind of precision that would make the Legions proud! And by the Nine, I’ll have their skins and raise them on our banners!”

All told, he felt helpless. Out there, beyond the safe walls of his house, the empire was falling to pieces, attacked from all sides by these redclad shadows. Yet no matter how hard he squeezed, how hard he bit down on every lead he could find, they eluded his grasp. No citizen had been spotted wearing or known to possess a red robe. But he knew they had been here, more than just the ones that died beneath the prison. A loose-tongued errantboy who worked at the palace claimed that one had been killed on the seventeenth floor of White Gold Tower. And a woodsman said he’d found a pile of red silk, cut to thin strips, just beyond the North-Eastern Sewer exit. There had been more assassins, and they’d covered their tracks. For all he knew, one of them could be walking down the Plaza beneath his window right now.

All his other leads had led to nothing as well. The summoned being had been identified as a Daedroth by scholars of the mages guild. But they had no records of any guildsmen who were capable of summoning one. The ones who did, all seven of them, were active at guilds in the other provinces. Even if one of them had left and journeyed to the Imperial city by horse without rest, stopping only to change to a fresh one, news of his departure would still have outrun him or her by bird or signal-towers.

Then there were the three witnesses, Valen, Mezanin and Maghlada. Valen had posters put up of his face all over the city. Anyone who even remotely resembled him was picked up by the patrolling guardsmen, which lead to a lot of disgruntled Dunmer. But so far they hadn’t found the real Valen. Mezanin was a complete unknown. Lex had used his connections to make contact with the underground Altmer society that connected all inhabitants of that race, but they had not, or refused to admit, seen any Altmer who had not already lived in the city for years. Then there was Maghlada. So far, Lex had not sent a runner to his home, so she had not yet been found, dead or alive. And if she was found, she would most likely be dead. All corpses of recently deceased Bosmeri females, there were always a few every day, were taken before Ra’Jezhr for identification. He almost hoped the Khajiit pointed at one of the corpses and said: “That is sneaky not-thief.” If only to receive confirmation. The other option was even worse. If she was alive, she was either far gone, or in the hands of her assailant. Only an absolute idiot would remain in a city where there was a vampire hunting her. The Argonian’s grip on the windowknob tightened.
“Ten curses! This has to be a joke.” He hissed to himself.

He tore himself away from the window and raced down the stairs.
“Jensine, you still here?!” He shouted as he burst into the living room. There the two women, Miss Wolfer and the far younger Jensine Dubreth, were enjoying a cup of tea.
“Yes, darling? What is the hurry? Got a musclecramp that needs taking care of?” The young Breton purred.
“No, your skills as a masseuse are not needed!” Grey-Tongue interrupted her.
“Run, don’t walk, to the Imperial Prison. If anyone stops you, tell them that you are my assistant and need to see guard-captain Hieronymous Lex, NOW! If he is not there, have a runner sent to collect him. Tell him to come here right away. Then, find guard-captain Argelius! He also needs to come here. Now go!” He continued as he practically dragged the courtesan out of her chair and pushed her towards the hallway, still holding her cup. In the hallway, he grabbed his own coat and cane.
“Miss Wolfer, Please put the pot of soup back on the fire! I will be out and when I return, I insist that a meal be served!” He shouted back towards the living room and raced out of the door.

Left alone, Miss Wolfer stared at her cup before gently placing it on the table.
“But we just had lunch. He couldn’t possibly be hungry yet.” She muttered to herself.

OOC: Originally, one of the interviewees was a Mythic Dawn cultist ranting about Mehrunes Dagon returning, new dawn etc. I thought that was a bit too obvious however and replaced it with the pilgrim. I'm trying to keep my Mythic Dawn more competent and secretive, excluding the sacrificial pawns of course. Also, Grey-Tongue's exit-speech originally revealed why the hell he is leaving in such a hurry. I edited that out just to annoy everyone.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Jan 17 2013, 02:41 PM

[jack cloudy]

I swear, I will get some plot development going! Someday, possibly before the heat death of the universe even. Ahem, more L&S



Chapter 5.3


Akatosh’ Wing Bridge

Cringing with every step as we evaded the worst of the filth, we slowly made our way across the immense marble bridge that span from Weye to the immense city at the center of the lake. I wondered why I hadn’t noticed last time we came this way, but the bridge was absolutely covered in a thick splooshing coating of dung and mud. It was a silent testament to the wagons and beasts that crossed every morning and evening. At noon however, the vast spanne was almost deserted, relatively speaking. We still passed a good score travellers and Sorian let his eyes wander over each one. His hand never strayed far from the steel at his side. It was good to see him take his bodyguard duty serious.

“We can take the first gate this time.” The man said when we were about halfway across.
“Eyup.” I huffed as I jumped over a particularly smelly pile of droppings. Those horse-things seemed a lot less cute now I knew they weren’t toilet-trained.
“Obviously. I don’t want to spend time taking the roundabout. The sooner we’re back out and helping Aelwin, the better. Agh, I’m never going to get this off my shoes. We should have taken his boat.” I added with a frown.
“And then they would only allow us to dock at the waterfront and we’d have to walk through half the city. So man up. Dirt won’t kill you.” Sorian’s mocking tone was mildly irritating, but only mildly. He knew I hadn’t been serious. The next pool stretched the entire width of the bridge and was too long to jump. The Redguard climbed up onto the elevated ridge and motioned me to follow. One look over the edge and I decided not to. Sure, the ridge was wide enough to walk on but I really wasn’t comfortable with a height such as this. Even water was hard as stone if you fell long enough. With a sigh I gingerly stepped through, splashing as little as possible.

“I just like being clean, that’s all. How many people come through here each day anyhow?” I picked up the thread of conversation again once back on a less wet portion of the road. Sorian gazed at the city with unfocussed eyes. Then, he sang.
“There below his feet, shone the city White Gold. Ruled by men of snow, illuminated by candles thousandfold. One for each star above, one for each soul below.” The song, or fragment thereof, was haunting. But as abruptly as it had began, it ended and he turned back to me with a smile.
“That’s part of a poem I heard back in Skaven, less elegant than from the original singer’s mouth. But then again, she is descended from the Ansei. Though she also must have been off by a zero or two.” He chuckled. He didn’t even knew how good his voice was. Not the best I’d ever heard, but definitely not the worst. Instead of swinging swords, he should have swung songs at a court. It would be a safer, more profitable and more respectful occupation.
“That was beautiful…nevermind. Could you tell me who we are going to meet, sir?”

He looked at the city again, more focussed now.
“According to Nerussa, stop scowling, there lives a wealthy noble at the Talos Plaza by the name of Umbacano. She said he pays good coin for every Ayleid artefact larger than a toothpick. Very good coin. So I thought we would seek him out and see how much he’s willing to pay.” At the last words, he turned to me and moved to block my path.
“And now I really have to ask. Could you not do that, milady?” He asked me without any of the usual humor or annoyance. He was calm and serious, in a way I hadn’t seen him before.
“Do what?”

“Turn all blue and red whenever something annoys you. I swear, it’s like the posturing of a poisonous snake.” I froze, not knowing what to say. Blue and red, those were the traditional colours of conflict or general aggressive behaviour. My traditional colours, not his. Sorian, Delmar, the Altmer, Emperor Uriel, the mudman and the other two swordsmen, none of them had ever showed more than one colour. They probably couldn’t do it at all. So it wasn’t a guess.
“So you noticed.” I finally whispered. To my surprise, he shrugged as if it wasn’t important.
“Well, first I thought it was the light playing with me but when you blew up in my face…it was hard to miss. So could you not do that? Umabacano is high elf and I don’t think he’d be impressed by magic parlor tricks. It was hard enough to hide it back at the tavern but nobles tend to have their homes well-lit.” He said casually as he began to walk again, slower this time. He didn’t say it outright, but he was thinking that I just got mad at every single Altmer for no reason. I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t prejudiced, that I judged every single one fairly on his or her own merit. He wouldn’t believe me, neither would I. Even I was able to admit that it is impossible to not be prejudiced when every story about the Altmer puts them down as pure evil. All but one.

“It’s not something I have control over. A woman of my age and standing should, but I don’t. Don’t ask me why. And it’s nothing magic or parlor tricks. It’s just a basic communication skill at…the isles. Telling me not to would be like asking me to stop breathing.” I said while braving the latest splatty obstacle. Fortunately it was the last one for it seemed that this close to the gates someone actually bothered to scrape the stones clean every day. Raising my eyes to the city, I could see the blinding glint of metal armour before us. Six glints, so that meant six guards fidgeting restlessly. I hoped none of them would recognize me. I still hadn’t explained my arrest to Sorian and I wanted to keep it that way. It was one of those embarrassing and frightening experiences best left forgotten. Beside me, Sorian dropped the hand that had been held over his sword all this time.
“Right, I knew you were foreign, but this just bumped you up to very foreign. A language of magical skinpaint, never heard of that before. Anyway, then what do we do? I don’t want to leave you waiting out of my sight. We can’t ask you to hold your breath either. Well, I’m open to suggestions if you have any.” He said.

I mulled over the question as we walked. The problem was at its core one of emotions. I simply was a very emotional person who had never quite managed to control my mental state. Whatever I felt was always broadcasted by my skin. Barely noticeable as long as my emotions weren’t peaking, but still there. The only time I didn’t signal, was when I was completely relaxed or just not feeling anything at all. That meant I was either sleeping, or very bored. I couldn’t take a nap obviously and boredom would be hard to find. But perhaps I wouldn’t need the genuine article.
“There is one thing.” I told Sorian. “I was taught a few medication techniques by Mettildi. It never got far, but I kept stumping at it over the years when I hadn’t got anything better to do. I’ve gotten proficient enough I think, as long as it doesn’t take too long and I don’t have to do anything else at the same time. So you would have to do the talking while I go seek inner peace.”
“Stilling your soul? That sounds like what the Ansei do. He wasn’t one, was he?” The Redguard commented, rising awe ringing clearly in his voice. It made me sick. Whatever the Ansei were, other than some vague ideal of his, Mettildi wasn’t one.
“He knew the techniques, but didn’t practice them. The man loved pain.” I shuddered.
“As long as it wasn’t his.” As long as it was mine.
“If you don’t like the guy, then why make him teach you?” Sorian wondered out loud. Why did I? Because I was told to, because he was a teacher assigned to me by the aunt that raised me? One among dozens, just another blur in my life? Normally that would have been my answer, but in lisping Mettildi’s case, my answer was different.
“Because I was scared. I couldn’t say no.” He didn’t ask any further, for which I was grateful.

The metalclad guardsmen seized us up when we got near. From up close, I was reminded of how intimidating they were. Every single one of them towered above me, like a shining tower of potential violence. Even Sorian only reached up to the shoulder of the shortest among them, and was barely half as wide as the men. It was overwhelming and said more than a few things about the diet they’d enjoyed throughout their lives. It also showed me how wealthy the Empire was, that it could afford to use steel on covering the skin of every single soldier under its command. Now the six identical men talked among each other in hoarse whispers, never letting their eyes wander from us. Finally one of them produced a titanic rolling of the shoulders and stepped forward, waving us to come closer.
“Good day, young fellows. You wish to enter the Talos district?” He greeted us heartily with a deep voice befitting of a giant. Beside me, Sorian motioned for me to stay back and let him handle it. I was more than willing to let him. Folk that huge made me uneasy, though it seemed they didn’t recognize me and wished us no harm.
“Good day to you, sir knight. Yes, we do.”

The man inspected us again, this time even more open than before. He bent down to bring himself to our level, turning his eyes from Sorian to me and back again. As he pushed his face at me, a pungent odor assaulted my nostrils. Sweat baked too long, last night’s drinking and specks of the last meal caught up in that scraggly beard that uncomfortably poked out through the central slit of his helmet. Now I knew why they’d all been so restless. Their shift must have been about to end and their greatest wish was to strip off all that hot metal and find a tavern. I nervously averted my eyes from his stare. After some time, the man nodded to himself and let out his rumbling conclusion.
“You two look decent enough. You are aware of the laws that apply to the Imperial City, heart of the Empire?” He said with a smile. The smell intensified whenever he opened his mouth. Chosen for their height and impressive girth they may have been, proper hygiene had not been a decisive factor. I scolded myself for the thought. Ever since coming here I hadn’t found the time to clean myself properly either.
“We are.” Sorian answered plainly. The gatekeeper grinned and held out a giant paw.
“Good. Then please hand over that sword and any other weapons or objects that could be used as such.” He boomed. The urge to slap myself was overwhelming. Sorian’s response last time someone had tried to take his sword hadn’t been pleasant. This time I felt would be no different.

True to my expectations, the man drew back and his hand flung down to the hilt. As one, five of the armoured soldiers dropped their hands to their own blades. All except for the one who’d been elected to speak to us. He stood up straight and placed his hands on his hips, making himself as wide as possible and oozing confidence from every pore.
“My sword? Now wait a minute.” Sorian stammered. A finger jabbed at his heart as the gatekeeper interrupted his objections.
“Those are the rules. Only guardsmen and other licensed individuals are allowed to keep possession of their weapons while within the confines of all city districts. You did say that you are aware of them. Are you?” This was getting bad. I did not agree to this adventure with him just to get killed by upholders of the law over something as natural as weaponregulation.
“Yes, but…” The Redguard continued. I had enough. He needed to be stopped before he blurted out something even more stupid and earned us both a blade in the gut.
“Sorian. Be quiet.” I said as loud as I could be without actually yelling. He looked at me with wide eyes. Not just him, everyone else’s attention had turned to me. It occurred to me that my outburst had done more than shut him up. It had given me the task of coming up with a story that would keep everyone happy and let us pass. But what story? I couldn’t come up with anything good so I ended up doing the same thing Sorian had done. Throw out the first words that came to mind.
“It was not my intention to reveal myself, but I cannot remain silent when honourable men such as yourself are troubled on my behalf. My name is Maorlatta Orgnum, Princess Heir to the throne of mistcloaked Pyandonea. I sincerely apologize for the indiscretion of my servant and guard. Let it be known that he merely acts to ensure my safety and wellbeing.”

I could kick myself. Instead of pretending to be simple travellers, I’d used the royalty card on them. They didn’t believe me, confusion apparent in what little of their faces showed. I should have said something different, thought more. But it was too late now. They wouldn’t let us leave now without a very good explanation. An explanation we didn’t have. The only way left was to go forward. I took a deep breath and drew myself up as much as I could, knowing fully well how futile such a gesture was next to these giants of men.
“Sorian, hand over your blade. These men will stand guarantee that no harm will come unto me while within these walls. Correct, sirs?” I said and weighed their response. Hands loosened slightly around hilts, feet shifted to raise center of mass slightly. The spokesman looked behind him for help, receiving none. That told me they weren’t used to dealing with the upper-class. Most likely a better trained group would have manned the gates if important visitors were expected. Even Sorian listened.
“Ah…yes, lady. The guardsmen are here to ensure the safety of everyone who visits great Cyrodiil. But what is your business here? If I may ask, that is.” The frontman said slipping over his words. I raised an eyebrow and put on an expression of minor dissatisfaction. I’d figured out my plan now. I would overwhelm them by making myself and my coming more important than anything they were authorized to handle. I would force them to process us despite not knowing the protocol. I had to stifle a grin. This might actually be fun.
“Lady Princess. I am here for the purpose of a clandestine diplomatic liason with lord Emperor Uriel Septim the seventh, ruler of Tamriel by the grace of holy Akatosh. By word and deed, I act with the full authority of the Pyandonean court and so any agreement between Lord Emperor Uriel Septim the seventh and I, Princess Heir Maorlatta Orgnum, will stand as an agreement between the Empire of Tamriel and the kingdom of Pyandonea. Due to the sensitive nature and importance of this council, I have travelled here without a full formal entourage. I come here bringing only my trusted aide and shield, as well as some gifts and personal effects. I trust you will exercise your utmost discretion regarding information of my presence at his court.”

Their response was exactly what I wanted. Their confusion had grown beyond their ability to solve, so their minds had turned towards accepting every single word I said as the absolute truth. Hands left swords and they all stood at attention, shoulder to shoulder, eyes staring straight ahead.
“Yes, of course. We welcome you, lady princess, to Cyrodiil and hope that your presence will be a pleasant one. If you would just wait half an hour, our captain will supervise the changing of the shifts. He is better suited to your needs.” One of the five in the back now shouted. Apparantly he was the leader of this group. It didn’t show on its own. He wore the exact same armour and had the exact same build as the others. But he’d decided to speak, and not the one who’d first been pushed into talking to us. I turned to him now and continued without skipping a beat.
“I thank you for your consideration. However, I do not have time to wait. You will have to serve my needs. Now then, Sorian will deliver his blade into your care and we shall be on our way. Please store it among all the other weapons, with no special signs of its value or the status of its owner. Place it as if it will be collected by the evening or the day hereafter, as if it belongs to a mere visitor who has no plans of staying within your walls. Again, I trust your discretion on this matter. No one is to know of my arrival until such time as Lord Emperor Uriel Septim the seventh decides.” The Redguard’s lips curved into a smile as he began to understand what I was aiming for. By the time we would return, just a short while later, the new guards would be in place. None the wiser, they should return Sorian’s blade without issue. The only problems would occur if we waited long enough for these six to find their tavern and the inevitable rumours to start.
“Our lips will be sealed, on my word of honour. I do have to inform you however that the Emperor is unwell. Imperial Battlemage and councilsman Ocato made the announcement this morning.” My eyebrow went up again.
“Ocato? I’ve heard that name before. Wasn’t that the one the Emperor’s guards were so unhappy about? Yes, he was the one who didn’t show up. The magic to guard against magic or somesuch. Saying that lord Septim is sick must mean that...did the Altmer kill him, after all the trouble at getting him out? Or did he just go and hide? That’s what I would do, if I had an army of murderers aiming for my throat.” I thought. At the same time, I was already speaking. The words didn’t require much thought, just enough to translate them from one language to the other.
“My condolences. However, this does not cancel our appointment. I will meet with whoever is in charge of the Lord Emperor’s agenda and arrange an alternate time of meeting as his health dictates. Now, please open the gates. I still have many formal duties to attend today and the sun waits for no mortal.”
“Of course, lady princess. You may pass on through.”

Entering the Talos District, the first thing I noticed was how clean it was. It was a far cry from the part Delmar had showed me. Sorian’s Altmer friend must have been correct. This was the kind of place where all the rich people would live. The second thing I noticed was how the guards at the gates and their weapon regulation was an absolute joke. Only guardsmen and licensed individuals he’d said. The people without weapons, mostly knives, were vastly outnumbered by those with them and only a few of the armed men and women wore the armour of guardsmen. It seemed to me that this license was ridiculously easy to obtain. All one needed was high social standing or money. Next to me Sorian began to laugh.
“That was the most incredible bluff I’ve ever seen. I don’t think you had to drag your lie that far, but it was awesome. And best of all, you didn’t flash rainbow at them. So you can do it after all.” He hiccupped, one hand before his mouth as he tried to hold it in. I frowned at him. This was not the place to talk loudly about bluffing.
“I don’t believe in lying. Now take us to this Altmer of yours.”

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Jan 17 2013, 02:41 PM

[mALX]

I never notice these stories up in the subforums!

I'm still reading in your 2008 entries, so still have some catching up to do. So far:

You have an amazing knack for detail and dialogue that absolutely make each scene come to life! Wonderful character building, and love how you keep us guessing at who each character is as you introduce them! Valen Dreth was the easiest, lol.

Also, I am absolutely against reading most "tutorial dungeon" beginnings, (or actually any stories that linearly follow the main questline) - but you have completely made this story your own version, the only similarities being the setting and a few similar characters.

What an Awesome job you are doing with this! I have a few more pages to read before I'll be caught up, and really hope I get the free time to do it. Absolutely Awesome Write !!

[jack cloudy]

Thank you. I do have to warn you though. I stopped writing for a few years and got really rusty during that time. Later updates are of lower quality than the earlier ones and flow at a slower pace.

Anyway, for this update: Grey-Tongue pulls an Angoril.


Chapter 5.4



Talos Plaza

He knew he was making a scene, having Jensine run out of his house shortly followed by himself. But Grey-Tongue didn’t care. His cane never touched the streets as he retraced the path of the two persons, one man and one woman, that had caught his eye from the window. The first thing he’d noticed were their clothes. Brightly coloured robes with a high slit at each side and a beltstrap of simple cloth. No one from the Talos district wore garb such as that. Next had been the way they were headed, directly for the house of an old adversary of his. The realization that the woman possessed the sharp ears of an elven heritage and almost transparent hair kept in a simple bun was the last and most important thing he’d seen. Her skin had been an unchanging healthy tan and he hadn’t seen her eyes, but everything else matched the description. Bosmer, with hair like glass. He’d thought no one would be stupid enough to return to the known hunting grounds of a vampire. He’d just been proven wrong.

“It is still unlikely, there are hundreds of Bosmeri women in the city. But I can’t ignore this either. If I’m right, this is both a great opportunity and a great danger. The vampire must not be allowed to find her first. Besides, that travelpack and the sack the man was carrying were rather filled. Making sure that Umbacano isn’t breaking the law again is more than enough reason to follow up on this even if the woman is not Maghlada.” The Argonian told himself. He stopped at the other side of the central plaza, bent over and breathing in harsh gasps. He envied the boundless stamina of Hieronymous Lex, who would have barely noticed such a run even in full gear.

For a few minutes he stood before the door gathering his breath. He was not looking forward to what was to come but concluded that he had no choice. While he was certain that Umbacano would be none to pleased with his interference, he could not walk away. When he was both certain that he could speak without trouble and that the potentially illegal bussines-meeting was in progress, he knocked on the door. For a minute nothing happened and he knocked again. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed that a patrolling guardsman had taken up position behind him, standing by one of the columns that graced the central plaza. The man gave a single nod to the Argonian and rebalanced the sheathed sword at his belt. Grey-Tongue returned the nod, then knocked once more.

This time a reply was instant. The door opened slightly by scaled fingers wrapped in chain and two red eyes so like his own blinked at him.
“Who comes here?” The other Argonian rasped. The door opened further so he could get a real good look. From the moment he saw the fine clothing and the elegant cane, he hissed, spines rising and teeth bared.
“Hist-Brother. I remember you. Umbacano does not wish to see you. Go away.” The Argonian spat at Grey-Tongue. Memories of the investigator’s last visit came to him. Being an Argonian as well and rather new at the job, he’d been eager to let Grey-Tongue in. He’d just assumed this was one of those business associates his colleagues had informed him about. The ones that should be let in promptly without a word. When Grey-Tongue left however, carrying a carefully wrapped object, he’d received a tongue-lashing from his master’s steward. The wealthy Umbacano had not been pleased by the guest, or the loss of whatever it was that had been hidden within the wrappings. Any interactions with the master for the next few days had been unpleasant to say the least and up to this day he’d been the least liked of his guards. Worst of all in the housewatcher’s mind, was that his pay had been cut quite severely since that day.

So no, letting Grey-Tongue in was not a mistake he planned on making again. He tried to close the door without a further word, but the investigator blocked the opening with his cane.
“It is not his decision to make, Usheeja. You do know my occupation.” He countered calmly. Usheeja’s spines rose further.
“I know. But my master does not want your business here. He would not be pleased if I let you pass. So leave.” Usheeja said and added emphasis to his words by drawing the small sword at his hip partially from his sheath. Grey-Tongue was not worried. He’d been in a standoff with Umbacano’s guards before, though never with Usheeja. On his end, the court of the Imperial City had given him full permission to interfere in Umbacano’s affairs if he suspected him of unlawful activities. On Umbacano’s end, the Altmer only had the call of a homeowner protesting against trespassing. But Grey-tongue was still officially located on the city streets, not Umbacano’s private property. If Usheeja dared draw his blade, the still waiting guard would have a legitimate reason to interfere. After that, just the threats of his personnel would have given Grey-Tongue sufficient reason to enter the mansion, arrest Umbacano, confiscate all his property for investigation and bring in all individuals present for questioning. Umbacano had also been warned that any sudden death or severe injury of Grey-Tongue would be interpreted as a possible act of revenge on his part and result in an investigation. While this last clause would not help the Argonian directly, it was part of the massive leverage he could use against the man and his staff.

He gave the handful of steel only a cursory glance before dismissing the unspoken threat with a shake of his snout.
“I would advice against drawing your sword, Usheeja. It would not be tolerated. If it assures you, my business is not with him, but with his guests. I will not leave until I’ve spoke with them.” He said and shifted slightly to his right, allowing Usheeja to see the guard leaning against the pillar down the plaza. The armoured Imperial adjusted his belt in a seemingly casual gesture but his eyes never wandered from the manor’s entrance. Usheeja sighed as he rammed his sword back into its sheath.
“Fine, you win. What about these guests? I have not let anyone in this morning. It has been only the master here, Jollring and I.” The Argonian hissed. Though his weapon had returned to its proper place, he still displayed all the Argonian signs of aggression. Spines raised, teeth bared, eyes sunken beneath the protective bone-ridge of his brow. By contrast, Grey-Tongue’s posture was that of a human nobleman addressing a lowly servant. Bent forward, both hands rested on their cane, feet close together and his snout disformed by a reasonable facsimile of a smile.
“I’ve been investigating them for some time now. I know that they entered this house approximately eleven minutes ago. There were two individuals. A Redguard male in yellow, a Bosmeri female in blue. The Redguard was wearing a travelling pack of the type used by huntsmen or pilgrims. He also carried a large sack. The Bosmer carried nothing except for a cylindrical object. You let them in. So do not attempt to distort the truth by restricting your answer to the morning when it is currently noon. That can be considered premediated obstruction of a lawful investigation, Usheeja. I am certain that the court would enjoy debating the details with you.” He replied amicably. The other Argonian snarled, throwing his hands up and kicking the door open.
“Hist-Brother, take your guests and leave. Do not anger Umbacano any further than you must.” He said as he moved aside. Grey-Tongue nodded, still with an unnatural smile on his face.
“Thank you, Usheeja.” He said and stepped inside.
“Just go.”

Grey-Tongue let his eyes wander over the entrance hall instead of walking in further, much to Usheeja’s continuing frustration. Other than the two Argonians, the hall was empty. That was somewhat unusual since Umbacano’s steward, Jollring, was also meant to be here where he could invite or reject any guests. From experience, the Argonian knew that the balding Nord only left the room when he needed to attend to his master, or after visiting hours had passed. In this case he assumed that Jollring was with Umbacano and his two visitors, most likely upstairs. Other than that observation, the hall was devoid of anything that he could use as a clue or leverage. Umbacano was known throughout the city and beyond for his collection of Ayleid artefacts, but he never showed this collection to anyone. All of his prized possessions were kept upstairs in his private living room. The entrance hall and all the other rooms for that matter, only held a rather generic assortment of upper-class furniture and decorations. He did notice that the hall was more sparsely furnished than it had been during his last visit. It appeared that Umbacano had begun to sell off his less valued possessions now that his original wealth had begun to run dry in his endless quest for Ayleid artefacts. With a mental shrug, he ascended the stairs.

Voices reached him from behind the door even before he reached the top and Grey-Tongue decided to eavesdrop for a moment before making his presence known. At the bottom of the stairs, he could feel Usheeja’s hateful stare but shrugged it off. The Argonian now knew better than to interfere. He probably wouldn’t raise his voice to alert his master either, afraid as he was of becoming the subject of Umbacano’s ire.
“Yes, yes. This is all very interesting I’m sure. But what is in that scroll-holder your companion has?” The first voice was easily recognized as Umbacano’s. Even if he’d never heard the man before, the context of the words and the confident air of a nobleman within his territory would have revealed his identity. The second voice, far less self-assured as Umbacano’s, was not familiar to the Argonian. He guessed it belonged to either the Redguard or the Bosmer.
“Ah, that is the third time you asked, sir. The scroll-holder is not for sale. Sorry, sir. That one’s her souvenir.” The Redguard most likely judging by the masculine tone. Unless he had been mistaken in his assessment of the dark-skinned human’s gender which he very much doubted. He pressed his ear-opening to the door to better hear the master of the house’s reply.
“That is what you say now. Everything is for sale, my young friend, but only few things are worth buying. Isn’t this what you wanted? Kindle my interest and drive up the price by showing me these cheap trinkets first? So what is on that scroll? Is it a map, the key to an ancient armory? A scripture detailing the life of the Ayleid nobility? The last document detailing the symbols of office of the Ayleid king? Jollring, show the young man the coin I’m willing to offer. He should know exactly how generous I am when presented with that which I desire.”

He had heard enough. Umbacano’s interests had not changed. While his reputation had him as a collector of everything Ayleid, in reality his preferences were far more specific. The Altmer cared not for general artefacts like Welkynd and Varla stones. His interests solely lay with the ruling classes of the Ayleid and the tools and symbols of their rule. As far as he was concerned, Umbacano could satisfy his obsession with the Ayleid masters as long as he didn’t break the law while doing so. Unfortunately, that was a line the nobleman had crossed more than once before. The private investigator knocked on the door then stepped into the room.
“Lord Umbacano. A moment. Sirs, madam.” He said as he nodded to each individual in turn. There was Umbacano, towering above everyone else even when seated with his conical hair. He wore an enraptured expression, watching the objects presented to him, a glass of wine in cupped in his hand. When he turned his head to look at the newcomer, that expression made way for one of extreme hatred.
“What?...Oh, it’s you.” He sneered. There was old Jollring standing behind his master with the bottle, as finely dressed as his master and just as displeased. He did not say a word, preferring to make his protest known through the gesture of not offering Grey-Tongue a glass. There was the Redguard standing at the center of the room, fumbling with hoops of elven steel whose purpose the investigator couldn’t even guess at. He looked up for a moment to nod before returning his attention to the contraption he was building. To Grey-Tongue it seemed as if the young man was just as dumbfounded regarding its function or structure as he himself was. Finally there was the Bosmer. Tucked away in a corner of the room next to the cabinet holding Umbacano’s abstract statues, he’d almost missed her. He didn’t dare linger his eyes on her for too long, so all he could do was reaffirm his earlier observations. A partial match, no more.
“We should have dragged the sketcher out of her bed and put her in front of Ra’Jezhr. But I really thought Maghlada would have fled the city by now, not that she would return.”

His gaze returned to the master of the house who was chewing his lip as if he’d just been told to donate his entire collection to the poor.
“Yes, it is I. As I said, a moment of your time please.” He said and bowed slightly. The Altmer shook his head vigorously and stabbed a finger towards the door.
“No, you will not have it, sir tongue. I am a very busy man. I want you out, right away.” He declared, then added: “What is the guard at the door doing? Don’t tell, it must be Usheeja. He’s always been too kind to unwanted guests like you. Go away, now.”
Grey-Tongue chuckled and shook his own head.
“I would appreciate it if you addressed me as sir Grey. Tongue sounds so inconsiderate.” He said. Old Jollring muttered something which Umbacano repeated in a louder voice. They were three simple words, filled with disdain.
“You don’t say.”

The investigator shrugged. It amazed him how all of his conversations with Umbacano safe for the first had all started the exact same way. Umbacano would tell him to leave while calling him Tongue. He would reply that this wasn’t the name he went by. Now with the opening-ritual complete, he hoped to touch upon the real subject.
“I do. And it is not up to you to send me away. I am here on official business. As always.” He said. He noticed that the Redguard had stopped his attempts at fitting the hoops together and now watched the conversation unfold. The woman however was standing rockstill like a statue, her eyes closed and her hands wrapped around the cylinder in her hands. In fact, he was certain that she hadn’t so much as twitched ever since he came in. Just when he was about to wonder about it, Umbacano answered with more questions.
“Oh really? Here you intrude into my house and say you are on official business? What’s your point, bloodhound? Did Cinna ask you to steal my possessions again?”
Grey-Tongue spread his hands as he replied to the man.
“The rightful owner of those possessions has been decided in Imperial court. If you object, you are free to approach a judge and request reopening of the case. But no, my client lives at Emperor’s Way, not Zenithar’s Alley.” He gave his most generous smile and added a final remark.
“You can send me away, but no doubt my client will find other associates to send.”

The Altmer blanched. Though no names had been spoken, he knew that all who lived at Emperor’s Way were far more powerful and wealthy than him, or in service of those more powerful and wealthy. He thought he could have the Argonian forcibly removed from his house and subsequently talk or bribe his way passed the authorities. But the inhabitants of that street could beat him at his own game for the approximate price of their breakfast. He eyed the glass of wine in his hand. Then, in one swift gulp, he emptied it and held it up for refill. The next glass was consumed as quickly as the first. Amidst the sloshing of more wine served by the faithful Jollring, he spat at Grey-Tongue.
“Fine. State your business, Tongue!”

The Argonian noted to himself that telling Umbacano the truth, even partially, would be a mistake. So he would have to use the story he already prepared before stepping into the house.
“My client has expressed interest in Ayleid artefacts. Not artefacts in the possession of collectors such as yourself, but ones recently unearthed. It has come to my ear that some enterprising youngsters have made a discovery and intend to sell. Unfortunately, I possess a reputation for finding items and persons of interest, not for collecting. So I saw it as necessary to visit your mansion and place a bid of my own.” He explained, though he knew that Umbacano would think he’d merely been spying on him. In fact, he had once already accused the Argonian of buying the house on the opposite side of the plaza expressly for that purpose. Umbacano had even threatened to drag him to court and have the deed on his home annulled. The process was eventually decided after a few days of bickering lawyers, when Grey-Tongue had conclusively proven that he’d inhabited that house years before his first case against Umbacano.

“You are looking to buy as well, sir? Would you like me to demonst…” The Redguard began but Umbacano cut him off with a wave of his empty hand.
“Silence, boy! And you, sir Tongue. Do you honestly believe I will just give up and let you go ahead with your search?” He snapped. Grey-Tongue shrugged and hissed his answer.
“If you wish to bid against my client, you are free to do so.”

For almost a minute Umbacano seethed in silence, gritting his teeth and draining what was left of the bottle of wine. Then he grabbed his head with both hands and cried out. Fine glass tinkled and burst on the thin carpet.
“Get out!” The Altmer shouted, waving at everyone.
“Sir?” The Redguard asked and Umbacano cried once more.
“All of you, leave! Leave! You too, Jollring! Leave me be!”
Grey-Tongue bowed, then stepped aside to let the glowering steward pass.
“As you wish, sir Umbacano. Have a fine day. No need to bother your staff, we know the way out.” He hissed and followed the Nord downstairs were Usheeja welcomed him with angry hissing and clenched fists. Behind him, he heard the Redguard murmur. Then there was a loud snap and the man spoke again.
“Wake up, milady. We’re leaving.”

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Jan 17 2013, 02:42 PM

[jack cloudy]

I'm not too sure about the next bit. It feels like I'm infodumping at times and just awkward in general. Also it's too short but since I've spent over a week on this bit already, I decided to just send it out. In any case, today's bit goes from Latta's point of view again. I should also go back to reading the other threads again. Haven't found any time for it this week unfortunately.


Chapter 5.5


Umbacano manor

Stars flared across the inside of my eyelids, robbing me of sight, of my place. When I opened my eyes, the scene that greeted me seemed strange, impossible. There was no labyrinthine web of gnarled roots, no soft birdsong, no gentle waving of the sea, no tinkling of the half-sunken glass ship. No fish, no Su, no coral reefs, nothing. Just a room filled with mystifying stones, glass figurines and metal bouquets. A tree shaped like a man whispered noises at me, a golden statue shaped like a man sat on his throne, a pink salmon shaped like a man stood behind him with curved glass. I turned my head, hoping to escape the room, force the dream into something natural. There, the door. That would take me back home surely, away from this confusing nightmare. But no, a serpent stood guard.

A serpent? No, not a serpent. It couldn’t be. But the skin was right, the long face was right. Perhaps a serpent? It had to be the strangest serpent I’d ever seen. Dressed in clothes flowered with threads of gold, a silver hook dangling from its mouth, arms and legs. Standing there before the door, with its grotesque shape, like it belonged here on the dry, instead of the wet. Two elegantly clawed fingers plucked that hook out of its mouth and it flapped, hisses coming from it. Hisses that were words, strange words but definitely spoken tongue. This was simply impossible. Serpents were smart, often moreso than the young fools that ride them. They were more than capable of understanding mer culture. But they don’t care for it. Without thumbs, and a thick hide of scales, why should they? So why was this weird creature here, dressed up like a person? This had to be a dream. A crazy dream. One I should wake up from.
“Just you see. Su will wake you. Then you’ll open your eyes for real and you’ll be in your own bed, in your own room. There will be the usual five servants kneeled at the door. They will dress you, deliver the paperwork you must sign, tell you whom waits for you in the great hall to complain or request aid, who will come teach you in the afternoon, who you must dine with this evening.” I told myself. Again bright stars robbed me of my vision and this time I became aware of a burning ache at the tip of my nose. Pain didn’t belong in a dream.

I opened my eyes once more and forced myself to accept whatever I saw as real. That was no tree talking to me. It was Sorian, wagging the finger he’d raked across my nose. He was still talking, though his words were reduced to nothing but a vague wurble. I plucked a wad of cotton out of one ear, then the other. Now I could make out the words.
“Wake up, milady. We’re leaving.” He said. Leaving? Did that mean the negotiations were done? I peered passed him at the Altmer, this Umbacano. He glared back at me with such intensity I half-expected to burst into flames. Even the servant behind him wore a disaproving expression. I ducked back behind Sorian again.
“You didn’t have to hit me. That hurt.” I muttered at him. Actually, I wanted to ask what had gone wrong. It was obviously that despite all the assurances I’d been given before we stepped through the door, Sorian had failed to sell anything. Was it something he’d said, did he figure out my deception, or did the golden man simply not like my kind? I wanted to ask all that but I didn’t. I was afraid Umbacano would really call forth fire if I did.

The Redguard shrugged and made for the door. Following him, I saw that the serpent had left already. Or maybe it had been part of my imagination after all?
“I wouldn’t have if you took that cotton out of your ears the first time I poked you.” His words were cheerful, but his expression told me he was almost as angry as the Altmer. He spoke more words as I followed him down the stairs.
“I thought you were talking about meditation, not earplugs and keeping your eyes closed. Sheesh.” The urge to snap back something was overwhelming, but I kept quiet. Just how could he have messed this up anyway? All he had to do was walk in, repeat the speech I’d given him and then accept a good price. The last part had been fully up to him. Using gold and copper as currency was new to me and I had no clue to their relative value. Still, how could he have done it wrong? Did he bid too high? Did he make an obvious blunder like being rude or too informal? Or was it really me again, me and my thrice-cursed skin?

Down the stairs waited the serpent again. Only this one was different. Instead of wearing blue silks it was covered in countless metal rings, like a thousand loops of chain wrapped around its body. What was visible of the serpent itself was different as well. Reddish brown scales instead of bluish grey, sharp horns instead of fins arcing back from its brow. Another serpent?
“Maybe I should have kept my eyes open when we walked in. Then I wouldn’t be so surprised at everything. I must be flashing blue and yellow now.” I thought to myself. The manserpent opened the door, though not without baring its teeth at us. It seemed that everything in this building hated me.
“Well, that’s what you get when you go into the house of an Altmer and his mindbroken slaves. Open distaste for everything that does not fit the golden master’s tidy little world. I should have paid more attention to my grandmother’s stories instead of waving it off as delusional rambling from a stupid foreigner.” My train of thought continued into another direction. It seemed hard to believe that just by being there I would have ruined our plan. Sure, Altmeri had never been described well in the stories and the few that lived among my people weren’t exactly populair. But I’d learned modern upper-class Cyrodiilic from an Altmer and he actually seemed like a pretty decent person. Certainly much friendlier and more patient than the majority of my mentors and peers. Maybe he’d been the exception to the rule. Or perhaps it had been a simple adaptation to being trapped in a world where he was not at the top of the social pyramid. It was a distressing thought.

Outside there was a third serpent. Or was this the first one again? I honestly couldn’t tell. It waved at us and then slowly hobbled across the plaza. Sorian decided to follow it and I fell in step beside him.
“I’m taking negotiations didn’t go well?” I asked the man. He shot a withering gaze at me. Now him too? What did I do to deserve this?
“What, you didn’t notice? Of course it all went to the deep in a basket!” Sorian snapped and shook his head.
”Of course, you were busy playing blind and deaf. I was doing great, really great. Granted, he wanted your tube-thing more than the spinny-ball thing but I told him no. It was when that Argonian over there walked in that everything fell apart. Lord Umbacano wasn’t happy to see him, to put it mildly. He took it out on everyone in the room, including us. There must have been some bad blood between them in the past. The good news is, our scaly friend is buying for someone else. Supposedly.” He sighed and kicked a loose pebble, sending it clattering across the street till it hit and bounced off a stone pillar. I looked at the remembrance-device in my hands and digested his words. So a personal enemy of our only buyer came in and ruined everything. It was nice knowing that it hadn’t been my fault. It was not nice to know that we’d wasted our time for nothing.

I shook my head and kicked a pebble of my own.
“Supposedly is not a word of confidence. He probably just came in to annoy the Altmer and ruin our business. After all, didn’t your source only list one person as being interested in Ayleid goods? Let’s just head to this Chorrol you mentioned. I’m getting nervous walking here in the open.” I told him but he rejected the idea with a vigorous shake of his head.
“Nah, let’s go along with it for now. He didn’t call any names, but he did say that his client lives at Emperor’s way. I want to see if he’s good to his word. If he is, this might actually turn out to be a stroke of good fortune. Besides! It’s a big city. What are the odds of running into trouble really. If this doesn’t work out, we’ll go straight back to the gate, pick up my sword and walk west till nightfall. That I promise on the honour of myself and my ancestors.” He said and brightened up. While glad he didn’t hold our latest failure against me, I wasn’t sure I shared his opinion. To me it looked like he was letting money cloud his judgement again. A big city was a good place to hide in theory. No doubt about that. But the man in black was a vampire and obviously an important figure. If he wasn’t he’d been run out or spit on a pike by now. Staying here now that the Umbacano-plan had fallen was a mistake. But what else could I do but go with him? I’d used up what little leverage I had by making him (temporarily) give up his sword and have it exchanged for a document of ownership. He was stubborn and positively stupid at the worst of times, but he was also the closest thing to a friend I had here and the only one who knew the lay of the land and had the muscle to protect me as I walked it. As long as we weren’t assaulted by festering corpses.

I pushed my growing fears aside to look at the serpent we were following. It had gone to a building almost directly across Umbacano’s manor and now fumbled in front of the door with a heavy keyring, far heavier than I’d expect from a building this small. Seeing it do that made an eyebrow rise up, for more than one reason. Even the keys here were made out of ores. I made a mental note to keep that in mind. The apparent ubiquitousness of metals meant their price would be quite low.
“So, who lives on Emperor’s way? I assume it is anyone important?” I asked Sorian as we waited. The man grinned and theatrically waved an arm. Following the gesture, my eyes settled on the thin spire that dominated the city no matter where I was.
“Calling him important is like calling the sea wet. But come on, of course you know, lady.” He laughed. I could see what he meant. The important people always owned the best patch of ground, the most refreshing springs and the grandest structures. That still didn’t tell me who.
“I don’t know. Please humour me.” I pressed him. An idea was beginning to form already however. This was supposed to be the mainland capital, if the Royal Battlemage's account was correct. But that information was almost a century old by now and he'd described a politically unstable land. Much could have happened in those years. But then again, didn't I meet the Emperor here? If it was the Emperor. Emperor's usually don't go running through underground ruins like a treasurehunter. I grimaced at that. The same could be said of me and I'd gone on an underground treasurehunt. Before I could think any further, I got my answer. Not from Sorian, but from the serpent who finally found the right key.
“Only one man lives there. Our lord and gracious ruler. Emperor Uriel Septim.” It hissed. Sorian slapped me on my shoulder, hard. Ignoring my rebuke for that improper contact, he laughed again.
“So, still want to leave?” He asked. I ignored him, instead focussing my eyes on the serpent. I wondered how I should address the creature. Treating it like a simple animal seemed wrong. Those in possession of thumbs and knowledge of words and tools could not be considered such. I settled for treating it as an equal, for the moment. If I was wrong, I would have to apologize and profess my ignorance towards the ways of its kind.
“I did hope to receive the honour of attending Lord Emperor Uriel Septim the Seventh’s court. So if conversation and bargaining with you would result in a meeting, I would gladly accept your hospitality. After you, kind sir.” I said to it and gestured towards the open door. The serpent bared its teeth, albeit with none of the malignity I’d sensed from the metalclad one.
“I’ll endeavour to meet your expectations. I bid you both welcome to my humble sanctuary.”

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Jan 17 2013, 02:42 PM

[jack cloudy]

And the next bit. I think I'll need at least one more, but probably two or three parts to finish up events in the Grey-Tongue manor.


Chapter 5.6


It led us into a short corridor empty of all decoration but an elegant coathanger next to the door. The serpent hooked its coat onto one of the arms and then ushered us in further.
“The living room is at the end of the hall. Please go have a seat. I’ll be with you shortly.” It hissed to us. Sorian and I traded a quick glance at each other before walking through the door it had indicated. Behind us, the serpent knocked on the only other hallway in the door. It said something but the words were lost to me. As bare as the hallway had been, so lavishly furbished was the living room. Soft fur-lined seats, thick crimson curtains hiding the streets outside, an arched chandelier overhead, paintings of woodlands and ships at full sea, fine ceramic cups on the table and silver cutlery. This, I concluded, was a place a mer could live in.

I took the seat in the far corner where I could keep sight on the door and let the remembrance-device rest on my lap. Sorian tossed his pack and bag on the floor and then sat down in the seat beside mine, next to the window.
“It’s kind of odd that he has the curtains drawn closed in the middle of the day.” He remarked. I figured it was just because the scaled person desired privacy. Being at streetlevel without an isolating garden, anyone could have looked in. A clattering of earthware down the hallway announced our host. It held a foamwhite pot in its hands and gestured with it towards the cups.
“I see that miss Wolfer has been kind enough to prepare clean cups for four. Most excellent. Would you like some tea?” It asked.
“Certainly, please.” I answered and if I’d sat any closer to him, I would have prodded the Redguard to follow my lead. Now he just sat sullenly in his chair, watching the clock ticking away on the wall. I pitied the poor fool. He simply had no idea how the upper-class did things and how critical basic etiquette was with us. I realized that even without the untimely intervention of the serpent, he would have made a mistake at some point. So this time I vowed to take part in the negotiations myself. At least it wasn’t as dreadful as the Altmer had been. Unusual certainly, but I had dealt with serpents before. From the cover of a fence and with a pair of strong handlers at its side, but this one seemed positively harmless. As it went about pouring steaming liquid into the cups I noticed more than a slight jitter. The frailty of age perhaps? I hoped so. Elders were more set in their ways, less impulsive and easier to predict once I got a handle on them. Realizing that the other was weaker than myself was also a fine way to put me at ease.

It caught my gaze and bared its dull teeth.
“Never seen an Argonian in fine garb, lady?” It questioned. I averted my eyes, angry at myself for not showing Sorian how to act properly.
“I apologize for staring. I have never encountered…an Argonian before. Again, please accept my apologies.” I said softly, dipping my head even further.
“I’m from the south.” I added, as if that explained everything. To my surprise the serpent, Argonian, let out a sound that was impossible to tell apart from amused chuckling. In fact, it was exactly what it sounded like.
“Not at all. We so-called lizardfolk are only a small minority outside our home province. Most villages never see an Argonian and even here in the capital city there are less than a hundred of us. So quite frankly, stares are among the most common and most benign responses I receive.” It laughed. It poured a cup for itself and dipped two white cubes in it before continuing.
“Unfortunately, many men and mer are rather uncomfortable around those whose bodylanguage and appearance differs significantly from their own, which leads to a fair amount of tension and prejudice. Quite a few, especially Dunmer raised in the culture of Morrowind, believe we’re barely above animals. Intelligent, but wild. Just last week, a woman dragged her son away from me when we passed each other on the street. She thought I was going to eat him.” It took a sip of its tea and grinned once more.
“I am a civilized Argonian. I very much prefer sheep.” I had to admit it, I laughed at the joke, simple as it might have been. Sorian didn’t see the humor though.

“Ok, can we just get down to business? Are you buying or did you just come to ruin our trade with Umbacano?” He spat. I wanted to kick him. That was no way to open a bartering session. I understood that he was upset over not having his precious blade and then over having his plan with Umbacano ruined. But letting his frustration be known like that simply wasn’t proper. The Argonian wasn’t pleased with the rude man either. It put down its cup before hissing back at him.
“You would do well to learn when to let anger guide you and when to control it, young man. I am a kind and tolerant being, if I may say so. Others however, do not share my patience with rude words such as those. Many are the hotheaded youngsters I’ve seen lying broken in a dark alley or pulled out of the waterside. I assure you that you do not wish to join their fate. There are powerful people in Cyrodiil, people it is best not to upset.” There was a growl at the back of its throat that hadn’t been there before. It pointedly picked up its cup again, took a slow sip from it and then addressed me, not him.
“As for whether I buy or not, depends on what is being offered. So, just for the record. Would you mind telling me what is contained within that scroll-holder?” It asked me. I didn’t know what it was talking about. We had not uncovered scrolls or anything to hold them with. Then I remembered the caged cylinder in my lap. Sorian had mistaken it for a scroll-holder as well when I first showed it to him and I supposed it could be used as such, though that would be rather redundant.

I hefted the finely made cage of Ayleid gold and the bronze tube suspended within it. I allowed the Argonian to admire the swirls and rings but kept the lenspiece hidden under a hand. Finally I removed the cap and let it peer inside.
“It is a beautiful item, but it is not for sale I’m afraid. Please forgive me, it was not my intent to deceive you.” I said. The Argonian shrugged.
“Then I will not waste both our times in further attempts at persuasion. What are you willing to offer?” It asked me.

The cycle of demonstration, bidding and counterbidding made me lose track of time. It liked the box, but didn’t see much value in the glowing crystals. It accepted the mug, but wasn’t willing to buy the fork. It told me to come back when I had a full set. Somewhere amidst the bargaining, an old lady came in to offer us bisquits. Before leaving, she asked that we would stay for diner. Apparantly our host, sir Grey, had wished to try out a new recipe and he would love for us to take part in the experiment. Just then, there was a knocking on the door and the Argonian excused himself. When I looked towards the still covered window, I realized that the streets outside had darkened quite a bit. Sorian had noticed too.
“Well, you two certainly hit it off. Now who was it that was constantly complaining that we would be taking too long in here?” He said with a smug grin.
“We both were, sir. And I can’t help it. I like him, and what he did with this place. It makes me feel at ease and when that happens,” I replied with a shrug. “I forget the time.”
I looked at the window again. Even if we left right now, it would be dark by the time we went through the gates. Where they still open at this time? Even if they were closed, there were probably a few illicit exits. Worst case, I’d rather traipse through another sewer than spend the night within these walls. But this also meant I couldn’t keep my promise to Aelwin. How was I supposed to see those scales in the night? My flare-spell didn’t function underwater. The realization was enough to dampen my feelings of contentment. I didn’t like breaking promises, especially not ones made to elders. But the man needed all the money he could get. Taking this sir Grey up on his offer for diner, then apologizing to Aelwin in the morning and doing his favour would be financially to his advantage. I could also gift him some of the coin I’d made on today’s business. I needed more than what I’d get just to even start my plans anyway, so giving some away wouldn’t make too much of a difference. Sorian let the grin fade into the closest approximation of a respectful image he could manage.
“Well you seem to be doing ok so I’ll let it slide for now. Try to bring in a big haul on our main event, would you? Here he comes again.” He said. Indeed the Argonian stepped through the door again, but he wasn’t alone.

With him came a man, a large man, wide of shoulder and long in stride. His hair was brown and slickly combed back, lending him a hawklike visage. His broad chest was clad in the finest steel I had yet seen, engraved with golden cords and two crimson serpents of an unfamiliar kind. All together, this man made me supremely nervous. A guardsman he had to be, a high-ranking one. And why would he be here if it wasn’t to arrest me for that trick I pulled at the gates? Or for my act of vagrancy and subsequent escape the day before yesterday? I felt Sorian put a hand on my shoulder. He was trying to reassure me while also warning me to keep my skin in check. Easier said than done.

“You promised me you would find some entrepreneurs with Ayleid treasure and by the Nine, you were right!” The guardsman bellowed at sir Grey. This was even worse. Were we doing something illegal? Was he going to arrest us for that, throw us back into that evil prison? He turned to Sorian and I, smiling from ear to ear.
“She’ll never know it, but in the name of my wife I thank you from the bottom of my heart. She won’t know what to say when I give her your fantastic present next week. It’s the day we were wed twenty years ago, you see.” He continued with a wink. I relaxed a little. He was not here to arrest anyone, but simply another buyer. Probably avoiding his duties in the process. But I knew better than argue about duty and commitment with one carrying a sword.
“Ah, yes. You came just in time, sir. We were right about to unveil the greatest find we made in the ancient city.” I stammered. “Ancient city’s sewer-office.”
The armoured man clapped in his hands with glee.
“Absolutely fantastic! I can’t tell you how much this means to me! I’m Hieronymous Lex by the way, but you can just call me Hieronymous!” I had to admit, I’d never seen a protector of the law bouncing up and down like a preteen before. With some amusement, I told him to wait while I assembled the many little hoops and cogs of the time-device. I just hoped they wouldn’t notice that the thing’s etched in instructions were actually in Dwemeric instead of Ayleid.

“And it should work now. Sirs, may I have your attention, please? this here is a…” I began when a voice cut me off.
“Oh now. Don’t bother your little head with explaining that little mechanism. After all, no one is going to buy it. Why don’t you just sit down and listen to me? The night is still young but there is so much I have to tell.” The voice sent shivers down my spain, made my legs into frail twigs, turned my heart into a lump of stone, flooded my thoughts with sheer panic. Him! It was him! I had to run, hide, vanish, go away! But I couldn’t, I was too weak. I fell back into the soft furs and stared, just stared.
“You.” I whimpered. Too many things happened. Sorian jumped from his seat, fists raised. Sir Grey lazily turned to peer over his shoulder. Hieronymous stood up slowly with an eager smile. The vampire bowed his head with an even more eager expression.
“Yes, I.”

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Jan 17 2013, 02:42 PM

[jack cloudy]

I'm trying something new here. I'm diving into Sorian's head for the next part.


Chapter 5.7


13th Talos Plaza, Sorian

This was all so mindnumbingly boring. At least I tried to get things done quickly. But no, the wood elf and that lizard just kept talking in circles, or completely forgot what they were doing to exchange pleasantries. I didn’t need to know where that rug was made, or who gave him the clock on the wall. Or what that tea tasted like! Then that clown of a guardsman came in and things only got worse. Now she had two people to yabber with.
“I should have never let her take over things. Ancestors guide me, I should have chosen a different damsel in distress to save. One that knows how to be properly grateful. One that doesn’t make so many demands. Me and my stupid reflexes.” I thought to myself. All along, Maorlatta had been nothing but trouble and nagging. Really, just what was wrong with her? Acting like she’s better than me, or that some vampire was after her. Vampires don’t even exist! That was a one-off thing, some sailor looking for some fun without the coin to pay for it. But she just kept focussed on it like it was the end of the world. I shouldn’t have let her latch on to me, but what was I supposed to do? Ansei don’t ditch the people they just saved without a word, no matter how much trouble they might cause later on. The most frustrating thing was there were times she was actually helpful. But those were so far apart, I swore she knew when I was just about ready to leave her before doing something useful.
“And what is with that talking skin? She can’t keep it quiet with a high elf, but she can with a damned Argonian in a suit? Crazy woman and her creepy eyes.” I sighed and began to nod off again. She flashed, hard enough to make my eyes hurt. Black, white, the colour of the chair.
“Yes, I.” Someone said. It wasn’t the idiot captain, or the wannabe-noble. I looked and saw him. That man in the black robe, the one I’d saved her from when we first met. How did he find us, and why did he even go through all that trouble? Wasn’t he scared I’d run him through?

I jumped up, my hand reaching for my sword. But all I grasped was the paper those gatekeepers had given me. I realized that again she’d caused me trouble.
“Dammit! How can I fight without my sword?” I asked myself now that all I had were my fists. The guard and the lizard turned as one. Of course, the guardsman! He was armed, he could take him!
“That man is a rapist!” I yelled and pointed. To my shock and anger, they all ignored me. The lizard just watched, the clown brought his hand down to the blade but did not draw and the guy in black? He just continued talking as if I or anyone but him and Maorlatta didn’t even exist.
“For a moment there, I thought I wouldn’t make it in time. It is fortunate then that I am a very good runner. A very good one indeed.” He chuckled at his own joke and made a dismissive wave with his hand.
“Now now. No need to try that. It is most amusing but not very effective. Why don’t you wear the skin of a normal woman so we can continue yesterday’s conversation in a more civilized manner? It is so disconcerting to speak to an empty chair and a pile of rags.”

Now the guard finally saw fit to reveal steel. He held the sword out in front of him and shoved his seat away with a foot. Then he talked.
“You must be that vampire I’ve been informed about. I was hoping you’d show up. As captain of the guard, it is my duty to inform you that you are under arrest for the charge of several murders, breaking and entering, illegal possession of a bladed weapon.” He said, as if he were giving a list of groceries. He grinned. “And not to forget being a vampire.”
The man in the robe also grinned as he kept staring at the chair my damsel sat in. His eyes didn’t even drift down to the broadsword for an instant.
“A vampire? You amuse me, captain. But is it not common knowledge that vampires do not dare venture out in the sun? Look outside my good man, the sun may be setting but it is still daylight.” He said, as if he was surprised that anyone could even think he was one.
“Of course he is! Vampires don’t exist!” I wanted to move in, punch him in the face, pound that filthy smile away. But my body wouldn’t move. It was like it was telling me to stay put, that this guy was too dangerous to tangle with. But he’d ran away quick enough when I threatened him with my sword last time. Perhaps too quick? I licked my lips which suddenly felt very dry.

The Argonian seemed the least worried of all of us. He just sat down his cup of tea and looked at the intruder.
“Common knowledge is often wrong. Many of the victims died during the day, where the sun could find them. And I do not believe I gave you permission to enter my home. Regardless of who or what you may be, you are trespassing.” He said when the not-vampire had denied the accusation. This actually did seem to get a rise out of the man, where the naked blade had not. But he still didn’t shift his eyes anywhere else.
“I wasn’t asking you, lizard. But very well, I admit it. I am a vampire, I so enjoy drinking the blood of the wealthy, of those who have enemies that would rather see them put under. What are you going to do about it, watchdog?” He said, all pleasantness gone from his face. What was left was a feral snarl, like an animal. So vampires were real? Was this what my body had been trying to tell me? I’d really picked the wrong girl to save.
“Two things. First we’ll march you off to one station and then we’ll march the Bosmer off to a different station. It’s a shame you prefer black robes. It would be so much more convenient if they were red.” The captain continued as if placing bloodsuckers in chains was something he did every day. The vampire bared his teeth in a wide grin. The thin layer of humanity that had covered his last one was completely gone.
“Now that was careless, captain. Did they never tell you to not give up any information to your suspects? Now I know whose heels you lick. Then it is as I feared and he intends to betray us. No matter, for it appears he has made a critical mistake.”

“Who, what? What is that thing talking about? Who does the captain work for, not the Emperor? No, it is lying. It has to be lying. He isn’t a vampire either, just a delusional freak. And just a moment from now, the guard will strike him down.” I repeated the words in my head, believing them less and less each time. I held onto the nonchalance of the lizard and the captain. They were not scared of it, so I didn’t have to be scared either. But the vampire was just as unworried with them as they were with it.
“You see, he went to Chorrol yesterday and I doubt he’ll come back to help you. The Bosmer goes with me and only me. Now if you’re smart, you’ll go away and forget this ever happened. But you can’t do that, can you? I know you, Hieronymous Lex. You are this aggravatingly incorruptible champion of the law. It is not in your nature to ignore a crime unfolding before your very eyes. Well then, my good captain. It was about time you witnessed a lawbreaker you can’t stop.” It hissed.
Lex settled into a nearly textbook fighting stance. One foot in front of the other, knees somewhat bent. The only thing that was off was the way he held his sword behind him instead of in front of him. The vampire still ignored him, as if a trained and armed man was not worth his attention.
“I don’t care if you’re an ancient undead beast or just a man like the rest of us. I will place you under arrest.” The Imperial said and shifted his weight.
“Yes yes, that is all very dramatic. I am sure that all those poor half-starved drunken bar-brawlers are very intimidated by you, the Emperor-granted sword and that rocksolid conviction of yours. I however, am not.” At the last word, Lex leapt. The sword came in low and fast. Halfway through the motion, the monster turned. Then it was all over. The guardsman crashed onto the ground, his legs shaking. The vampire balanced on the backrest of the seat Lex had shoved aside. He licked the thing in his hand. To my horror, I realized it was a knife as black as the night sky.
“Now then, does anyone else desire to object to my very reasonable request?” It asked.

I was frozen, speechless. Lex had shown skill and speed, probably enough to match even me. But he hadn’t even remotely been a threat to it. I looked at him, saw him lie there on the ground. He groaned and bit down on his lip. He was still alive, but not able to fight. Just what had the vampire done to him in that instant? Triumphantly, it hid the dagger in a sleeve of its robe and turned its eyes back to the girl. He was going to finish what he’d started, he would kill her, drink her blood. And all I would do was watch. My breathing was ragged, quick gasps like a fish on the dry. My heart beat in my chest like a hundred drums, pounding in my ears, my skull. I screamed to myself though my lips didn’t move.
“No, NO! Sorian, you said you’d be a hero. You dreamed of it every day of your life. Well here’s your chance. Don’t let that thing have its way! Stand up to it. If you don’t have a sword, fight with your hands. If you don’t have hands, fight your teeth. Stand against evil till the last breath, till you crumble to dust! NOW ACT!”

It felt as if I’d blacked out. First I was standing by the window, then I was standing before her. Like it had refused to move at first, so now it had decided to leap without telling me first. The vampire stared at me, bored its eyes into mine.
“You, boy?” It asked me. I struggled for words through my dry throat. I found them.
“If I had my sword, I would blunt it on your bones.”
The vampire chuckled. I knew that to it I had to be even less of a threat than the captain had been. I was painfully aware that my knees and hands were shaking.
“Oh, I’m sure you would try. But you don’t have your sword, so please step aside. Does your mother know you are out picking fights you can’t win?” It sneered and chuckled again. I wanted to move, at least try to land a blow. Even if it would kill me, if I could just hit it before I fell! Adrenaline surged through my veins, all my senses were tightened to the point it hurt. But that body, that stubbornly independent body of mine wouldn’t budge.
“I can’t move!” I gasped. The monster frowned the tiniest bit.
“Can’t? Or won’t? Odd choice of words. Very well then, I’ll humour your desire to be the hero and talk through you. Hopefully you’ll have grown some common sense by the time I’m done. Till then, keep your mouth shut.” It stepped off the chair and slowly approached me as it continued to speak. Fear held me tight, making it almost impossible to breathe.
“You see, my young treehugging friend, it appears that you are quite the desirable woman. Just look at you, you’ve been reduced to a quivering wreck through sheer terror, yet your control over that spell remains rock-solid. I’ve seen a lot over the centuries of my life, but rarely did I meet someone who was possessed of all the talents we need. Oh yes, the Brotherhood could do well with you and you would go far if you’d join us.”

He was so close! All I had to do was reach out. Reach out, and not get cut down before I’d even made a third of the distance.
“But regrettably I am not the only one with sharp eyes. The false Emperor wants you as well. He put forth a valiant effort at keeping me away, sending me to Chorrol, then giving me some bogus mission of finding people in red robes and telling the lizard here about them.” A leathery hand waved at the Argonian who still sat there in silence. He had not moved a muscle since the captain was struck down. The vampire leaned in even closer, his cold breath tickling my nose, brushing away my hair.
“I am too smart for him, and too quick a runner. I knew he was attempting to take you for himself. And why not? He needs a loyal murderer as much as I do. But he will not have you.” It continued. I leaned away from it, creating as much distance as I could without moving my feet.
“Go get burned by the sun! Like she’d ever join you and your gang of cutthroats!” The words were feeble, little more than a whisper. It moved, a hand snapping passed me like an arrow. With a shriek I pulled back further, my legs colliding with Maorlatta’s. The impact knocked me off my balance and by the time I’d regained it, the hand had pulled back already. The vampire smiled as it took another step back.
“See that knife? Like you, it is a virgin blade that has never before tasted blood. It is yours, the gift of one shadow to another. Take it, and plunge it in the heart of that annoying twerp!” He commanded. Unbidden, my eyes turned and indeed there it was. A knife as black as the night, plunged into the chair right next to her head. She was crying now, I noticed, and curled up into a ball like a newborn child.
“Lady, you can’t.” I whispered. I didn’t know if she’d heard me. More words from the monster snapped my gaze back.
“Oh, but she can. The will to survive is a powerful creature, not to be underestimated. Make no mistake, blood will be spilled here today. You kill him, or make a valiant effort. I won’t be disappointed if you happen to miss a vital spot. Then I kill the guard, the lizard and the old woman in the kitchen. You will live and I shall welcome you into the Dark Brotherhood as a sister.” It said in an airy tone, as if exchanging mere gossip.
“Or you can refuse and I slay you along with everyone else. Either way, you will walk with Sithis. Give it some thought. You’ll have till the sun sets.”

Time went by, simultaneously slower than the seasons yet too fast. All was silent, safe for the clock. With each too loud tick, the clock announced another second had gone by. Another second closer to nightfall. Another I expected to be my last. I didn’t dare to look, couldn’t bear the thought of seeing the knife that would kill me, the hand that would plunge it into my heart. I wished for time to stop, to save me by freezing the world in stillness. Yet the sun continued to set, deaf to my pleas. Finally, words broke the loud silence. It was the Argonian that spoke, as if it had just woken up from a peaceful slumber.
“Since my fate has already been sealed, would you mind to listen to an old Argonian’s last request?” It asked the vampire, that looked at it with genuine surprise. I too felt my eye drawn to the scaled creature. Had it lost its mind, or was it merely about to beg for its life?
“A request? You ask a honoured member of the Dark Brotherhood, a vampire that follows the Night-mother. You ask me your last request? You must truly hate someone that you are willing to ask the Dark Brotherhood with your own death as the price.” The robed nightmare laughed. It caught itself and nodded upon reaching a decision.
“Very well, I’ll at least let you say your piece.”

The Argonian said nothing for a moment. When it spoke, I was certain he had gone crazy.
“I was hoping to have miss Wolfer try out a new recipe. She should be just about done. Would you care to join us for diner?” The words were ridiculous but scarcely were they spoken, or the door opened and my nose was assaulted by a smothering smell that made the eyes water. But I scarcely noticed. No, my attention was on the vampire who reeled as if an Orc had him with a hammer.
“What, how did you know?!” It cried. I couldn’t believe it, it’s body was actually heaving as if about to throw up! It stumbled away from the door, over towards the window. All at once, numbed limbs sprang back to life. It was weak! If I was going to strike, it would be now or never! Body and soul worked as one. The hands needed a weapon.
“The knife.” The mind said. Fingers snatched the black from the chair, feet drove me closer. “Give us a place to strike” The hand holding the knife said.
“There, its head is bowed. Plunge it into its back.” The eyes answered. A wordless cry escaped my lips as both hands, both arms, both shoulders and both legs joined together to drive it down into the evil. The beast cried in pain. An arm swung out, knocking me aside. Then the vampire hurled itself through the window, erupting into a blaze the moment its flesh brushed against the curtains. I scrambled back onto my feet, to give chase. But the moment had passed and I didn’t make it two steps before slumping down again. After that instant I had become completely exhausted.

“Who was that man?” A frog croaked. With the last of my strength I looked up to see who had spoken. It was an old woman, a scarecrow holding a steaming pot. The Argonian finished his cold tea and answered.
“Merely someone who cannot appreciate your fine culinary techniques, miss Wolfer.”



OOC: I'm not sure if this really went so well. The transition from invincible to vulnerable is a bit sudden maybe.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Jan 17 2013, 02:42 PM