Redemption., Cause being evil sucks. Options

[Agent Griff]

I like how you make subtle jabs at the AI in Oblivion like the behaviour of the animals. Everything in Oblivion besides deer tries to make killing you an objective as soon as they lay their eyes on you. Quite annoying really and I agree with Latta.

I also liked her act of kindness. It was what I would have done in her place as well. Nice thing to add.

[jack cloudy]

Yeah, that is weird but unfortunately something you find in just about any rpg. Really a bit of a shame. I mean, I am quite sure that a Mudcrab in real life would never try to hit a humanoid. Apart from being a hell of a lot faster, TES humanoids (those that don't avoid the Mudcrab) tend to be just way beyond the crab in terms of combat capability.


And Olen, I don't know when it will all kick off. That reminds me, Latta is still wearing those damn manacles. Gosh, her wrists really must be sore by now.


Chapter 3.6


Cyrodiil, market

“Please, sir. If you have as few as a single coin to spare, I could eat today.” The beggar pleaded. The Altmer stopped and looked down at the scrawny Breton. One corner of his lips twitched upward as he dug in a pocket of his robe. His hand retrieved a coin and flipped it up in the air. The beggar caught the coin with surprising dexterity and rubbed the face on it. He quickly tucked the septim in his own pocket and bowed.
“Many thanks, kind sir. May you be blessed by the sixth golden dragon’s shade.” The Breton quipped, bowed again and sauntered off.

The Altmer continued walking across the market as if he’d already forgotten about his encounter with the beggar.
“Sixth golden dragon’s shade. Temple district, at the area cast in shadows at the setting sun.” He concluded after giving the riddle a moment of thought. The other corner of his mouth rose as well.
“I am somewhat surprised at finding that particular coin to still be in use, even after nearly half a century. Uriel, I had hoped you would become a bit more paranoid after that incident.” The smile turned sour.
“If you are this naïve in handling your intelligence, I hope you are much more considerate in choosing your hiding place.” For a moment, the smile returned.
“On the other hand, this sort of naivety must have provoked overconfidence within your enemies. If so, it should not be such a difficult task to find them.”

He took advantage of the fact that Cyrodiil was a circular city by simply following the road till he’d reached the temple district. From there, he began to circle the temple that gave the district its name. While circling, he stood still often and pretended to admire the beautifully sculpted marble. In reality however, he used these moments to study those around him. No one appeared to have any particular interest in him, which reassured him.

The spot the beggar had indicated turned out to be one of many benches, placed near a tree and some distance from the path. The Altmer walked over to it and sat down, instinctively shifting into a position that made it seem as if he was merely resting, or enjoying the sun on his face. Now that he was seated, he noticed why this bench was so well-suited for secret meetings. While in plain sight, the nearby temple bent the wind in such a way that it was impossible to listen in on a soft conversation being held by those sitting on the bench.

He tapped his knees with his fingers, while whistling a simple tune. It wasn’t long till an Imperial came to his bench and sat down. The Altmer observed the man from the corner of his eyes.
“Thick beard obscuring his lips, clothes of a commoner, no fancy jewellery, bag with letters. A courier, and apparently a contact.” He deduced. The Imperial stretched his entire body and jawned.
“Ah, nice weather today, isn’t it? Makes me just want to sit here and take a nap, rather than delivering the mail.” He said casually.

“Indeed.” The Altmer concurred. The courier grinned.
“Forgive me, but I am going to take a break now, sir Elf.” He laughed. Still laughing, he somehow managed to sneak a whisper among his howls.
“How can the Blades serve the Empire today?”

The Altmer cupped his hands and appeared to inspect his fingernails. Hidden from sight by his fingers, the air turned a vague violet and began to vibrate, creating sounds that resembled a voice.
“There was an assassination attempt on our liege last night. I have been ordered to conduct an investigation outside the official channels. What information do the Blades have?” The voice asked. The Blade cocked his eyebrows, a barely noticeable sign of being impressed by the subtle use of magicka.

The man took an apple out of his bag and took a bite.
“One or more assassins entered the prison compound. Killed all the guards and prisoners. Signs of a large-scale summon. We also found a previously unknown tunnel in prisonblock V which led to the sealed off foundations. Foundations are flooded and Argonian operatives are exploring it at this moment. It appears that our liege has been kidnapped and then been taken through the foundations. Either that, or he has been slain.” The Blade kept his face in a perfectly pleased and relaxed expression throughout. The Altmer on the other hand cultivated an impassive one that was fitting for a high-ranking mage, noble, or just an Altmer with his head in the clouds.
“I see. How can I enter the prison compound?” He asked.

“Tell them this. ‘I came to visit a friend for I fear that last night’s weather might have given him a cold. If I were to donate, would you give him a coat to wear?’ Show them a coin just like the one you gave the beggar.” The courier stretched again and got up, still chewing on his apple.
“Well, I’ve got to get going or the boss will get mad. Hope you’ll find your tongue again.” He said before walking away.
“Damn elves. Indeed, is that all they can say? Hmph, so much for the superior breed.” He grumbled. The Altmer leaned back and now truly enjoyed the sun. He would have to wait for a while in order to avoid suspicion anyway.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Dec 30 2012, 10:36 PM

[Olen]

Ok thats odd, he has contacts in the blades... Intriguing. Nice secret meeting though but why does he want back into the prison block? You're really building up the mysteries. And that altmer is one hell of a mage.

I want more.

Oh and I'd imagine wrist irons are like bad shoes, your skin would thicken to compensate.

[minque]

Nice Jackie! Do I have to say more???? I don't think so....you know very well I read your stories with great pleasure!

[jack cloudy]

Well technically, he doesn't have contacts in the Blades. The idea was that he knew the contact procedures and the Blades themselves simply believed he had to be the real deal since he got the protocol right. As for why he wants back into the prison block, he has reasons.


Chapter 3.7


Lake Rumare

“Won’t you just look at this. I haven’t caught this many fish in years.” Delmar’s voice was calm and composed, but I could still feel he was absolutely brimming with excitement. There was a grand total of fourteen fish in the bucket, not a bad catch for an hour of two of honest work.
“Maybe I’m a good luck spirit.” I joked.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you were. I swear, I just had to throw out the line and another fish would bite it.” Delmar laughed and took the oars. With a quick sweep, he changed heading and pushed the boat off towards the city at the center of the lake.
“Um, aren’t we going back to the shack and skin those fish?” I asked.

“I’ll get to that later, but first I figured I would take you to a certain person.” The old man replied.
“Certain person?” It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him, but the fact remained that we’d only met this morning. I just wasn’t ready to follow his lead without knowing where he was taking me. So I had to ask.
“Well, I have to admit I don’t know his name. I never even met him.” Delmar added. That didn’t really explain anything.

“So uh….It’s not that I don’t trust you, but why are we going to meet a guy you’ve never met before and whose name you don’t even know?” I muttered slowly and jabbed a finger at the bucket of fish.
“Somehow, I don’t think it’s because he would give you a good deal on raw fish.”

Delmar shook his head.
“You’re a nosy one, I give you that. But, you’re right. He won’t give me a good deal on raw fish. Rather, he isn’t even a trader. Well, not an open trader. He deals in…goods of debatable legitimacy.” He explained. The explanation made me frown.
“We’re going to meet a thief?” I inquired with a hint of disgust. The fisherman seemed surprised.
“You have something against the thieves guild?” He asked. The open disbelief he put in his words was too much for me so I turned to look out over the water.
“I don’t like people who steal. And I definitely don’t like an organization with the sole purpose of taking other people’s possessions. I just don’t.”

I could still see Delmar’s reflection in the water. It was as if I hadn’t averted my gaze at all.
“Hmm, I don’t really think much about the guild myself. But it honestly could be worse. At least the thieves guild doesn’t count any murderers among its members. I’ve heard that any member who crosses that line is given over to the guards.” He mumbled, talking more to himself than to me. I blinked and spun back to face the old man directly.
“You mean there is an actual organization of murderers here?!” I screamed.

The change in his expression was frightening. No, it wasn’t that. It was the fact that he was frightened, and it rubbed off on me.
“Quiet! It’s not something you should bring up. What if they hear?” He whispered urgently and his eyes fled from side to side. I looked from side to side as well, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Why was he so scared all of a sudden? Did he have the superstitious belief that people knew it if you spoke about them? Or did he think that there was a murderer hiding behind every bush, ready to kill anyone who brought up the subject? But whether he was superstitious or not, that didn’t change the apparent fact that there was an organization of murderers.
“Murderers and thieves, banding together. This land is a sinhole.” I thought.

After a couple of minutes, Delmar had managed to relax somewhat.
“Why won’t the guards deal with that?” I asked all of a sudden. I bit my tongue right afterwards. Perhaps it hadn’t been such a good idea to bring that up again, just when the old fella had calmed down a bit.
“Deal with what?” Delmar asked.
“You know, crime. This thieves guild…and the other one.” I shrugged. I had already brought it up, might as well go on with it.

Delmar let the oars rest for a moment and looked over his shoulder at the city-walls that were quite close now.
“Trust me, they tried. They tried, held a raid every day, unannounced. But somehow, the thieves would always know and be gone before the guards arrived, only to return mere moments after they’d returned to the barracks. As for the other…” He got nervous again and licked his lips.
“Look, I’ll tell you this, but after that I really want you to never talk about it again. It’s for your own good. You understand, Maorlatta?”

I nodded. With a sigh of relief, Delmar picked up the oars again.
“The other…guild. There are stories about it. It’s members are like shadows, like ghosts, the worshippers of a terrible god with an unsatiable bloodthirst. They can move unseen and even if caught, they’ll turn to mist and vanish. The only clue to the guilds existence are the victims found the following morning, always drained of blood. But…they say you can summon them with some sort of evil ritual and no matter where you are, one will come.” He whispered, his eyes shifting back and forth.
“And that is that. Now I’ll hear none of it ever again.” He finished in a louder voice. Looking past him, I could see a rickety wooden pier. It looked as if we were there.

His story about the murderers felt like one big superstitious falsehood after another. But one part kept with me.
“Drained of blood. That reminds me.”

We landed at the pier and I jumped out with the rope. I quickly tied it around the pole and then doublechecked the knot to make sure the boat wouldn’t unravel it and drift away.
“You must have done that before.” Delmar noted dryly. I stretched my back and looked up at the walls.
“Well, grandfather wants me to become a perfect member of the family, father thinks it is good if I’m a bit more practical.” I said. I grinned.
“Though he isn’t that practical himself.” I added.

The old man picked up the bucket and stepped out onto the dock as well.
“Well, I can hear you’ve enjoyed your youth.” He spoke.
“It was fun, usually. I didn’t like all of it.” I replied.
“Oh, like what?” Delmar inquired. He moved towards a small door built into the wall and I followed.
“You know, education on subjects I’ll never have to deal with. How to lead the family for example. I’m like sixty-fourth in the line of inheritance.” I said with a casual shrug. I thought nothing of it, but he did.
“Line of inheritance? What are you, a noble?” He asked as if it was a big deal.

I thought for a moment before I came up with a good answer.
“Well, my family is reasonably wealthy and has a bit of social influence in the area. But it’s not as if we rule this continent. Knowing who is in charge if the old man dies is considered to be very important by most of us.” I said half-jokingly.
“But as I said, I’m sixty-fourth in line. My position won’t change when that happens, which probably won’t happen for the next few generations. So it’s nothing I should worry about.”

I cut off my monologue. Delmar had gotten awfully tense.
“Next few generations. That must be nice.” He muttered to himself so softly I almost thought I’d imagined it. It did make me frown.
“That must be nice? What’s so nice about grandfather dying?” I thought angrily for a moment. Then I figured it out.
“Oh, he was reminded of the fact that he’ll die in a few generations as well. I mean, how old is Delmar? Threehundred and a half? Must be. Any younger and he wouldn’t be so wrinkled.” It made me feel bad. Why did I constantly have to make him sad or frightened?

The door led to a dark alley. Wet cobblestones, some brown grub smeared on the walls, a couple of rats dashing away as soon as we got near. It was kind of spooky.
”It didn’t look this dirty on the outside.” I mumbled.
“I know. That’s what most people say the first time they look beyond the plazas, the temple and Nobleman’s street. Cyrodiil is beautiful on the outside but on the inside, it’s just as with people. Nothing’s ever perfect. I try to avoid this place, not enough guards here.” Delmar concurred. That reminded me.

“About that trader we were going to meet. We got a bit sidetracked, so I still don’t know why exactly we’re going to meet him.” I said.
“Since the prison was rather negligent, I figured we had to free you of those manacles and the uniform ourselves. Our trader happens to be experienced in this area.” He finally managed to give me his reasons. I looked down at the manacles around my wrists. They were heavy, bruised my skin and right now, rather wet. I would love to be rid of them. Same thing with the clothes, they itched. Though getting rid of that brought new complications.
“How do I pay? I don’t have any money.”

Delmar fought to hold back a frown. He did not succeed, obviously.
“I’ll probably have to work as an informant for a while.” He said after a moment. I frowned as well.
“Informant? Look, I appreciate the lengths you go to help me, but you shouldn’t consort with criminals any more than the absolute minimum. Besides, we just met this morning. I’m practically a stranger for you.” I pointed out and took hold of one of his sleeves.
“Come on, let’s go back to the boat. I’ll grab a sharp rock and see if I can force the lock or something.”

Delmar stopped and gave me a reassuring smile.
“It’s nice to see that you worry about me, but it is alright. I just want to do this. Besides, informant duty is risk-free and nothing big. I’ll just have to report on rumours and keep an eye on any boats coming past my shack at night. That’s all. And if the lock on those manacles could easily be forced with a rock, it wouldn’t be good enough for the prison. You need an expert to get those open.” He said. I sighed and let go of his sleeve.
“Oh, alright. But don’t go do anything you don’t want to.” I replied.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Dec 30 2012, 10:36 PM

[Agent Griff]

Great update and thoughtful insights on the way the Thieves Guild operates. I also like Latta's semi-ignorance when it comes to the way her position and lineage are perceived by commoners. I would imagine Altmer wouldn't very much like Latta though, seeing as her grandfather invaded the Summerset Isles several times.

[The Metal Mallet]

Yea, her ignorance of the lifespan of humans is also an interesting note. She definitely doesn't get out much. Haha!

[Olen]

Solid update. Though you made a point - mer live for a few hundred years so why don't they get a population explosion with greatgranparents still youthful? Just one of those things I suppose.

[Agent Griff]

To even up they also have a very slow rate of breeding. At least that's the way it is in most fantasy universes, LOTR and Tamriel included. That way, humans are still on top because they breed faster, despite the fact that they have shorter lifespans.

[Burnt Sierra]

This is extremely good. I haven't been on for far too long, but I had the day off today to catch up, so I decided to read this one. To say I was impressed would be an understatement. I was so impressed in fact, that I went back and read Oasis chapter 1 to compare. You showed plenty of talent back then, (I remember Minkey telling me you were one to watch almost 2 years ago), but the difference....

Well, suffice to say, if there was an award for most improved writer, you would be my nomination hands down. This is, quite simply:

EXCELLENT! Here, have a slice of my birthday cake as reward

[Agent Griff]

Touching on the egos of other writers isn't really advisable but I must agree with you that Jack is one of the best writers here at Chorrol, and one of the most active ones as well.

I remember that some time ago I had an idea to have a poll regarding who the most popular writer is (to say the best would not fit, since you can't really determine the best writer with one of these polls since personal preference always takes the fore) and that he would be decided by votes. I think Jack would win by the sheer quantity of quality stories he has posted, from Oasis to Redemption to the many others he has written (In Service of a Fallen God, Agent etc.).

But as I said, I'm sure that other writers have also improved greatly, not just Jack. You could say Jack is one of the more stringent examples.

[Burnt Sierra]

How is that, "touching on the ego's of other writers?" I simply said I thought he was the most improved. My opinion, and I never mentioned any other writers. He's kept writing, and kept getting better with each story. That just shows how through hard work and persistence (not getting discouraged, not giving up) people can get SO MUCH BETTER. I think the fact he did that deserves congratulations. Especially seeing as I for one have been online so little over the last year I haven't been able to give the feedback to him that writer's crave. This is just my way of doing that. Nobody is directly comparing him to anyone else.

[Agent Griff]

I did say that I agree with you. He is an excellent writer with great stories across the board. I know since I've been following many of them. Well, 'followed' isn't a suitable term since Jack writes at a very good pace so that he finishes most of his stories after a certain point, not dragging them on and on, but I've followed what stories aren't over yet (like Oasis 2 or this very fine work) and I've enjoyed the stories that have been finished.

Don't mind me though, I just have these comments once in a while, comments that I should keep to myself.

[jack cloudy]

Thanks for all the praise.

Anyway, I have indeed improved quite a bit. Though to be honest, if you had told me this two years back, I wouldn't believe it. And I'm especially glad that I can say that I'm not the only improved writer here. In fact, I can't remember any bad writer here. Even if the story itself didn't appeal to me, it always had good quality so in short, this place is great.

About the production-rate of mer, I don't know them myself. Barenziah was apparantly a slow breeder but Barenziah is Barenziah and you can't nail an entire race on just one example. Even moreso because Maormer are not Dunmer.
(Note: Here's some inside information. Latta is not the 64th because she's got that many older siblings. There are also cousins, uncles, nieces and a whole lot of other family members who come before her.)

Now back to the story.




Chapter 4: Traces

Cyrodiil, Prison

A gauntleted fist smacked into the wall, causing a stream of dust to explode outwards.
“Damn it!” The owner of the fist shouted. He struck the wall again with his other hand.
“What do you mean, it was not a mage?!” He then demanded to know.

Behind the man, an Argonian, dressed in fine blue garb fit for a nobleman, leaned on an elegant cane. For a few seconds, the crimson eyes of the being studied the man, how he stood in his armour, fists still resting against the wall.
“It is exactly as I said, captain. This was not done by a mage.” The Argonian hissed. The captain stepped away from the wall slowly and turned to the Argonian.
“Then what did it, sir Grey?” He asked, slightly calmer now.

Grey bowed his head before answering.
“I can’t give you a specific answer, I’m afraid. All I can do is make deductions.” The Argonian reopened his eyes and looked at the man directly.
“Making deductions however, is what I do best.” He added before hobbling towards the next room. Whereas the room they’d just been in had been pristine safe for a number of scorchmarks, the room they entered could best be described as a wretched ruin filled with lingering chaos. The walls were cracked, furniture had been splintered. Broken swords lay on the floor, next to several pools of dried blood.

Grey tapped a large indentation in the floor with his cane.
“We’ll start with this. Judging by the size, shape and depth, this particular indentation has been caused by a creature with feet as big as a dog, clawed toes and an approximate bodymass of over four tonnes.” He said. The cane swung across the broken swords.
“The swords were clearly broken when the creature stepped on them. However, the blade has been dulled, which is either the cause of neglected maintenance or usage.”

The captain sneered.
“Prison duty is an assignment we give to those who are unable to serve on the streets in a satisfying manner. Prison guards are prone to gambling, alcoholism, Skooma usage, accepting bribes, bringing in prostitutes during the night…if they haven’t wasted their money on the previous sins already. They have a lot of bad habits, but letting their swords grow dull is not one of them.” He pointed out. The Argonian nodded.
“I see. Captain Lex, then there is only one last thing the swords can tell us. All the blood is on the hilt, not on the blade. Whatever the creature was that has slain your colleagues, its hide was strong enough to turn back Imperial Steel.”

As its last point, the cane swung up at the door leading down to the prisonblocks. Or at least, it swung up to point at the location where the door had been. Now there was only a gaping hole.
“Not just its hide was strong. It’s musculature was equally impressive. The doorframe has been torn out completely, bricks have been crushed and large sections of the wall have been removed by brute force. To put it into a proper perspective, a battering ram manned by ten Legionnaires is slightly outclassed by our suspect.” Despite himself, Lex whistled in unwilling admiration.
“Stronger than a ten-man ram. That is something.” He muttered. His hand subconsciously reached down for the sword at his side. When the thumb caressed the pommel, he became aware of the motion and stopped it.
“Stronger than ten men and invulnerable to a Broadsword. What kind of beast are we dealing with?” He wondered out loud.

The Argonian shook his head.
“I wish I knew, but I’ve never heard of anything like it. Suffice to say however, that it required to remove most of the wall just to fit through. However, beyond that point, it apparently stood in place doing nothing for a moment. More importantly, given that the previous room is relatively free of destruction and still has a door, I can only conclude thus. A summoner entered the previous room where he took down a guard with fire. Proceeding into this room, he summoned the creature we’ve discussed. The creature dealt with the guards here before moving down to the first prisonblock. At that point however, it was apparently dismissed after which the summoner proceeded on his own.”

Lex nodded slowly.
“I see. So that means…Nevermind. Lead on and explain at the site of the crime. I’ve already found you can explain best by showing me the clues.” He said. When the Argonian neither answered nor walked to the hole, he frowned.
“Is something the matter, sir Grey?” He asked warily.
“It appears we have a visitor. An Altmer.” Grey replied equally wary.

[Olen]

An argonian detective, thats a nce touch. And he knows when the altmer is around. Impressive. He was also remarkably corect in his judgment, who are we dealing with here...

Still I'm loving this, I can just feel it waiting to kick off into something truly epic.

[Agent Griff]

I liked the vintage detective work done by the Argonian. As was said, his affirmations were very accurate when it came to describing the Daedroth. I also liked how Lex described the men who were sent to guard the prisons. A very stylish touch there. I'm now eager to see how Lex will deal with the Altmer. We still don't know his name do we? I think I'll call him Bob. Yes, that's what I'll call him. Let's see how Lex will deal with Bob.

[treydog]

Jack, your characterizations are some of the best I have ever seen. You give each character a personality by subtle means of description- no heavy-handed, "beat the reader over the head" portrayals here. And I like the way most everyone is ambiguous- we find ourselves wondering what their real agenda is. Perhaps the best one-word description I can give is- MASTERFUL.

[The Metal Mallet]

Do I see some more cross breeding between your stories here, Jack? Because I do believe we've met Sir Grey in one of your other stories.

Trey basically stated what everyone else thinks. Can't say it much better myself.

[Lord Revan]

The detective work was a nice touch, but I have to ask. Barenziah was a "slow breeder?" It says in the series that Dunmer women normally only have one child, two is less common but happens sometimes. Barenziah concieved three times, that's exception for a not-so-prolific race.

[Olen]

If dunmer women normally have one child they would die out. Each woman must have an average of two children to keep a stable populatuion...

But back on topic I hadn't noticed this cross breeding between stories. Nice touch.