Redemption, part 2 Options

[jack cloudy]

War, war never changes.


And Malx, of course you're not the only one who does stupid things just to see how the game responds to it. I do that stuff all the time. For Science!


Ok, this is not a proper update. Yeah, it's been like 20 days already but I'm as slow as ever. Instead, you get a very short segment that may or may not contain anything important. At the very least it was a nice short exercise in writing something different. Enjoy!
Edit: Got the next part up as well. Also more of my random ranting.



Chapter 10.2


Oblivion



The manflesh had entered the Big Boss. Soft, tasty manflesh. Scampes burned them, Smallteethes tore them, Bigteethes swallowed them, Bosses cut them. Boom, slash, gnash! No more manflesh. Only their bits now. Shiny bits, sparkling bits, boring bits. So many bits.


Scampes looked for the nice bits, the shiny sparkly bits. Scampes nudged the manflesh, fingered their falseskin holes, broke their boxes and grey bunkers. Scampes took the nice bits, traded and stole them from each other. There was one Scamp, running and climbing where big boss ended and manflesh lived. Where Bigteethes couldn't fit. It was a strange place, this manflesh fort. There was bloodgrass that didn't cut, spores that didn't poison. Gaps to places that weren't there. It was a strange place, so safe it made the Scamp nervous. But it had shiny bits, oh yes. So many shiny bits.


So the Scamp crawled and slithered, taking a bendy metal bit here, a soft falseskin there. It found a glowing bit, curved and scaled like the Bigteethes, a smaller bit of fire in its mouth and eye. It was a nice bit, very shiny, very rich. The Scamp reached to take. It screeched. A big foot of black rending claws and cutting blades smashed its hand down into the not-cutting grass. Snarling the Scamp looked up. Who dared take the shiny bit form it? Who dared hurt it? The Scamp would burn the other and take the shiny bit. Oh yes it would!


But the other was not a Scamp, or a Smallteeth. It was black bone and burning flesh. It wore death and tortured soul of Scampes, smallteethes and bigteethes as a falseskin. It had giant hammer of pain and crushed skulls on its back. It was a boss that stared down at the little Scamp. The worthless, weak Scamp. It looked, silent and terrible. The Scamp bowed, crashed its brow against the ground of soft grass. The foot lifted and the Scamp ran.


The figure in black picked up the golden clasp and turned it in its hand. It closed its hand around it, gentle yet firm. The floor beneath it swayed and turned to water. The figure sank to its depths and was gone.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Upper Kvatch


Hieronymous Lex's first impression of the refugee camp at Lower Kvatch was that he had a lot of work to do. The camp was sorely lacking in organization but more pressing for him were the parasites who always seemed to pop up after a disaster. They were holed up in the barracks and tavern, protected by caravan guards they'd bribed. There they dined while everyone else starved and hoarded critical supplies, such as medicine and daily necessities, only giving them up when exorbitant prices had been paid.


As captain of the guard, Lex swore he would deal with that before the day was up. But first he needed to see how secure the camp was. Restoring law and order would help no one if a conquering army stormed down the mountain. It was with that thought in mind that he accompanied the Skingrad commander, a typical nord with blonde hair and beard and biceps that would make an Orc respectful, up the mountain to where a second camp lay. Unlike the refugee camp below, the upper camp was supposedly a barricade held by the Kvatch watch.


The camp was right before the gates, close enough to make the Skingrad men who'd joined them visibly nervous. Lex had no experience at warfare himself, but he knew why. All it took was a few good archers or a mage atop the walls, and the watch was as good as dead. The Guard-captain glanced towards the walls but he saw no enemies looking down upon them. If anything, this lack of activity only made everyone even more nervous. After all, the only thing worse than an enemy one could see, was one you knew to be there but couldn' t see.


The Kvatch watch turned out to be a handful of dirty stragglers, and a few caravan guards who had volunteered for the assignment, which placed their value far above their colleagues in the lower camp as far as Lex was concerned. All were carrying bows and stood in a line with their arrows strewn on the ground before them. There was one man sitting on a milestone behind them with his spear resting on his lap. He was wearing the chain and leathers which Lex knew to be the uniform of Kvatch and had a military haircut. To reinforce his observation was the tabard the man wore over his armour. Though the wool was burned and ragged, the wolf's head that was Kvatch's code of arms was unmistakable. Lex and the Skingrad commander exchanged a look and approached the spearman.
"You are the one in charge?"






The man turned to look at them. When he saw the twin moons of Skingrad on their coat of arms, he saluted and got to his feet.
"Savlian Matius, sirs. I'm the captain of the guard here." He said. Lex noticed that Matius was not wearing the indications of rank a captain would actually have, but said nothing. Arguing the point would get them nowhere. Instead he returned the salute and let the Skingrad commander introduce themselves.
"Ulberth Stone-Breaker, Skingrad's siege master. And this is Hieronymous Lex, from Cyrodiil."


Matius shook his head upon hearing Ulberth's title.
"We saw your army on the road," He told them. "but it's not going to lay siege to the mountain. You need more men for that. Far more."
"I didn't come to conduct a siege."Ulberth answered and Lex explained. "We're here to investigate and rescue people. For that Count Skingrad has given us enough men to hold a contested position for some time, but not enough to fight a war. Now, what is the situation in Kvatch?"
To their surprise Matius began to laugh. It was a humourless laugh that vanished in a sigh.
"In Kvatch? Sirs, there is no Kvatch. I don't even know if the mountain is still a part of Tamriel!"


Ulberth and Lex exchanged another glance. Neither knew what the man meant. How could Kvatch not be a part of Tamriel?
"Akavir? But wouldn't one of the coastal cities have been hit first then?" Ulberth ventured, naming the one place he knew off that lay beyond the continent. But Cyrodiil lay at the heart of Tamriel and Akavir was far to the east, beyond Morrowind and the ocean. It was a place where no man had gone to or come from in centuries.




They waited for captain Matius to regain his composure and an explanation of what he meant. But he didn't say why Kvatch had left Tamriel. What he did say was how it was lost.
"It all happened so fast. I had gate duty that night. People came running, pursued by a horde of monsters. They came out of nowhere, just stepped out of nothing like ghosts. One moment there was nothing, then there were thousands of them flooding the streets as far as I could see. Imps, Argonian giants, living figures of fire that flew through the skies. We let the citiziens through, as many as we could while the commander went down and held the gates. They were the lucky ones, the ones who were awake and ran. But most didn't. They slept, or tried to take things, or holed up in their houses. We," He began to cry as he remembered and covered his face with a hand.
"I ordered the gates closed. Left the commander to die. Couldn't let the beasts out. Couldn't let them out."




Lex took the spear out of his hands and gently embraced the man, letting him cry. The guard-captain's first feelings had been of anger. Anger at Matius for abandoning his post and essentially ordering the death of his superior. But he realized that if he'd been there on the streets, fighting off the monsters, closing the gates would have been exactly what he'd want Matius to do. In doing so Matius had ensured the survival of at least some of Kvatch's citizenry and somehow contained the enemy within the city. There was no way he could make the man believe it, but Matius had done the right thing.
"It's alright, Matius." He told the man instead. "We're here to help now. How's your quarantine? No breakouts?"
"No, sir." The Kvatch gatekeeper sobbed but just then the skies were shaken by an unearthly shriek. All turned their attention to the walls and Matius took his spear back. He stood ready to leap in front of the archers and protect them from attack but it wasn't needed. The creature took barely five steps beyond the city walls before it was pierced by a trio of arrows.
"Nothing major." Matius corrected himself and pointed out where the being had emerged from.
"There's a small gap in the wall, part of an eatery. Occasionally one of the little ones comes through and we deal with it. But never the big lizardmen, or the living torches. Only the wingless imps."



Ulberth Stone-Breaker nodded and then took Lex aside.
"Lex. What do you think?" He asked the Imperial with a whisper. Lex stole a quick glance at Matius who had sat down on the milestone again with his eye on the opening.
"Captain Matius is obviously suffering from survivor's guilt and the loss of his city." He said. "He and his men are at the breaking point and quite frankly I'm surprised they haven't collapsed already. I suggest the organization of multiple shifts to ensure a constant watch on the walls."


Ulberth slapped Lex on the shoulder and nodded.
"My idea exactly. I expect the poor captain to protest being ordered to rest, but he won't object to us relieving his men. Oblivion take us, having someone else take command is probably his greatest wish."



The Nord turned away to start giving out orders. Scouts to inspect all sides of the city-walls for gaps, archers and spearmen to plug the one they were aware of and some wood elves with their keen eyes to keep watch on the top of the walls just in case. Lex allowed him to divide up most of his men before he requested some of his own.
"If I may, master Stone-Breaker. I would like to borrow a good dozen of your troops. Lower Kvatch needs the rule of law and some uniforms will make all the difference."
"You'll have them. If the situation up here doesn't change by nightfall, I'll send the courier to arrange resupply. Make a list of what you need at the camp."








RANT-TIME


Kvatch is Bethesda's way of showing the invasion from Oblivion is a real and serious thing. (I personally would have preferred if the main enemy had remained as the Mythic Dawn, but that's just me.)

It doesn't quite manage to make that message stick, but I chalk that up to limitations of the game engine and a bit of a lackluster follow-up. The lackluster follow-up is because Kvatch is the only city that actually gets wrecked. Everyone else only has people stare blankly at a gate ruining their country-side view while occasionally popping out a Daedra or two. It makes the crisis feel like it was just that one wave and then a lot of empty air, but admittedly it is nice for people who want to avoid the main quest without having DOOOOMMMM hanging over their heads all the time.

The limitations of the engine are more forgiveable and yet have a bigger impact. The lore that came after Oblivion tells us that the crisis was a massive Tamriel-wide (possibly world-wide, but we never hear from beyond our one continent) event with ransacked cities and armies fighting the Daedra etc. On a personal aside, I prefer to think Argonia was kept safe by just being so drat poisonous and inhospitable to anything not local, rather than the Argonians going on a hardcore mad counter-invasion that made Mehrunes Dagon crap his pants.

Anyhow, the later lore makes it feel big, but the game is unable to match that scale without blowing up your hardware platform of choice. So the developers by sheer necessity shrank things down where they could. I'll take the example that is most relevant with this part of the story. Namely Savlian Matius holding the gates of Kvatch.


In-game, (all by memory, so I won't vouch for my accuracy here), Savlian stands in front of the gates alongside two other guards to protect the refugee camp from the Daedra. That he choses not to ignore Kvatch and its hordes of monsters is good. That he somehow managed to find the time and opportunity to erect a barricade of sharpened wooden trunks is even better. However, his opposition is just two or three Scamps running from their Oblivion gate. Even at the compressed scale the game employs in general, it doesn't feel like much of a threat. Heck, the player is expected to handle those kind of encounters solo about five minutes later. But then again, you're the hero and supposed to be above the normal man or woman. Worse than that is that the barricade is utterly useless, as Savlian and his men will cheerfully charge out in front of it to meet the Scamps in close combat.

Again, this is all limitations of the game engine. Savlian's troops are equipped for close combat so the ai seeks to deliver them into fighting range, treating the barricade as an obstacle to get around (the same way it treats any random rock or fence or wall) rather than something to hide behind for cover. If they were archers, ai limitations and hitbox issues would probably have all the arrows hit the barricade instead of going through or over the visible gaps in it. So regrettably, the barrier doesn't do much but I don't see how they could have done it differently. At least it is a nice bit of scenery detail and doesn't leave the refugee camp totally open.



Moving ahead, you may have noticed that in the story I did not make mention of the Oblivion gate that sits before Kvatch's own gates. That's because there isn't one. The gates in-game can presumably appear anywhere, so having them pop up outside the fortifications (you know, on the side where all the defenses are strongest), is kinda silly. Yet game engine limitations again, it's better than placing the gates inside the city and having to hand out even more immortality tokens than are already present just to ensure everyone doesn't get wiped out piecemeal by random Daedra before the player can even arrive.

In my story however I don't need to worry about that and can happily have the invasion commence from the inside and catch everybody with their pants down.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Apr 30 2013, 05:36 PM

[mALX]

*

First off, I loved the first bit from the scamp's POV! The golden dragon-shaped clasp at the end of that section (the one that used to rest on that shelf and that Angoril threw such a fit over) - it felt like the story behind that clasp just came full circle and is about to explode the story wide open. I'm always on the edge of my seat in any of the chapters that touch on Angoril because he is such a powerful enigma, and that clasp for its mystery and intrigue.

At first I'd thought it was Angoril taking the clasp from the scamp, but then the floor swaying and turning to water, and it sinking down into it - really couldn't be sure that wasn't a Daedric Lord grabbing that clasp.

I am so loving this story!

The scene with Matius/Lex/and Ulberth was so well done, extremely well done! I was easily able to visualize these powerful men meeting and discussing the size of army and their purpose, what remained of Kvatch, etc - but this line floored me, you never cease to amaze with these tiny details that are so huge in reading your story:

Lex noticed that Matius was not wearing the indications of rank a captain would actually have, but said nothing.

This next line was chilling the way you wrote it - we all know what happened in Kvatch, but you've brought it to life with your rendition of Matias here:

"Now, what is the situation in Kvatch?"

To their surprise Matius began to laugh. It was a humourless laugh that vanished in a sigh. "In Kvatch? Sirs, there is no Kvatch. I don't even know if the mountain is still a part of Tamriel!"

Ulberth and Lex exchanged another glance. Neither knew what the man meant. How could Kvatch not be a part of Tamriel?

On your rant:

The very first time I played Oblivion, my son got me started on the game; letting me watch him play intermittently and then handing over the controller. When things got too tough for me (and I was shrieking for his help) he'd grab the controller back just long enough to get out of the situation. He did this through to getting Martin to the Cloud Ruler Temple (which starts 25 gates opening up around Cyrodiil).

Well, I was terrified to go into the Oblivion gates again, so just left them opening whereever they did (which on the random ones happens to pop up whereever the player has been). Meanwhile I just started doing all kinds of other quests. One of the quests I did was the Dagon Shrine. (at which point the Oblivion crisis escalates, opening up the gates outside the cities and another 25 random gates).

The game will open a total of 60 gates in any one game, 10 of those are fixed gates outside of cities.

So I had 60 gates open and was doing nothing with them. The Daedra emerge every time the player enters that cell, meaning if the player leaves without tackling them, they will attack anyone within their reach till the player leaves the cell.

My game got to the point that there were dead bodies everywhere. Countess Leyawiin and her handmaiden, Mazoga, many mounted Legion riders, the residents of Water's Edge, bandits, dead horses everywhere - and I couldn't walk anywhere in game without the sky rumbling and turning red. I was TERRIFIED !!!

After I became adept at handling Oblivion worlds I liked taking them down - I started taking them out as they arose. Never again experienced finding dead bodies everywhere or not being able to take a step without setting off that rumbling red storm - I never had that feeling of terror again, the game crisis lost a lot of excitement when I started handling them right away.

Weirdly, I kind of missed that fear that I felt in my first game, missed the crisis being that big. I think they actually do have an Awesome crisis in place if your character is a terrified chicken playing like I was in my first game.

*

[McBadgere]

Excellent stuff!!!...

Loved that bit with the scamp!!...Who was that mighty dude who dids't walk the land with his mighty mightiness?!!...Impressive stuff though... ...

Ah, the mighty Salvian Matius ...Fair dues, that was an excellent section right there...Loved the Nord dude, really quite excellently done...

I'm looking forward to seeing how you bring all your various protagonists together...

Amazing writing, love it hugely!!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[jack cloudy]

Huh, that's a very good point there. When I played, I'd either avoid triggering the gates entirely or closed them all asap. It never occurred to me that taking the middle road would lead to a proper crisis. Maybe I should experiment.

As for who the mighty Dremora is, we'll hear in due time. But first we have another helping of Hieronymous Lex. Just one more part with him after this, and I'll be ready to set up for the climax of the chapter. So....another three to four months?




Chapter 10.3


With the dozen troopers Stone-Breaker had promised him, Lex returned order to Lower Kvatch. He also brought captain Matius. Not because the familiar face and code of arms would give an air of legitimacy to his actions, but because the man refused to rest and the only way to get him off the front lines was by ordering him to take part in some other assignment. He intended to have the man organize the relief efforts once they got going. First however, Lex went to the tent of the healers. He had to know how the situation was in there.


The answer, as it turned out to be, was not good.


There were no beds of any sort, with most patients lying on a matrass of their own clothes. Half of the healers looked passed out and those who didn't fumbled around in shock. Family and friends got in the way, further complicating things. Lex looked but saw precious little of the tools he'd come to associate with the healer's practice. No potions, only empty bottles strewn about. No herbs and powders, though a mortar and pestle sat at the feet of a heavily burned man. No scrolls, no books and no rolls of bandaging. It was chaos, with but one oasis of calm and certain action.


She was there. Cutting and sewing with the precision of an artisan, red hands moving so fast it seemed like they'd barely touched a wound before going to the next. If Lex didn't know better, he'd say she was under the influence of a spell. But Grey-Tongue had told him the elf appeared to have an aversion to magic. What she was doing wasn't magic however. It was the healing arts all mothers knew. The art of cleaning the wound and stopping the leaking of blood so that the body could repair itself. Only hers was like the difference between a master-at-arms and a raw recruit. A raw recruit who was very, very drunk.


"I still don't get how putting a knife into people actually makes them better. But the results are there." Lex thought to himself and tensed the tendons in his legs. Only a slight ache and stiffness reminded him of the knees which the Dark Brotherhood vampire had cut. The same knees the Maormer had repaired like the broken axle of a wagon.






He thought about approaching her but choose not to. She had been in his convoy and there wasn't anything for her to tell him. She also hadn't shown any sign of recognition over the day and frankly, he didn't want to get in the way of the Redguard she'd hired for her protection. The professional one, not the fop who was still up near the walls. The man was now occupied warding off all the worried people who couldn't understand what she was doing but Lex still felt he was aware of his presence as he'd been the moment they joined the convoy. He had that look Lex had seen only in exceptionally perceptive people like Grey-Tongue.


Instead of tangling with that brute for no reason, Lex approached what he assumed to be the most senior healer in the camp. At the least she was the oldest, a wrinkled crone with twig-like fingers that trembled from both exhaustion and the old-man's shakes. At first she waved him off and when Lex offered his help, she accused him of trying to steal the last coin of people who didn't have any. The Guard-captain grimaced.
"Madam, if I took money from you, I would have to arrest myself." He said. That got her to turn and look at him. She saw his deskuniform, and Skingrad's soldiers behind him.
"You're not from here. Stendarr's mercy, did the Empire see our plight?"


"We saw your city burn from Skingrad, and came. More will come in a day. Now madam, can these people be moved?" Lex asked her. It seemed that the 'enemy', for lack of a better term, wasn't going to leave Kvatch in force. But he didn't feel like taking chances. If the injured could be taken to Skingrad or the nearby port-city of Anvil, they should be. There they would also have access to the healer's facilities rather than this dirty tent. The matron glanced across the wounded and shook her head.
"In theory, yes. But I wouldn't advise it. Handled ineptly and many would die." She said. Though she didn't tell him, Lex knew exactly what she'd meant. In the Legion he had learned to never move an injured comrade, unless it was to drag them out of the line of fire. There was just too much that could go wrong and turn a serious wound into a fatal one.
"Then we'll have to take care of them here. Again I ask you, what do you need, madam?"



"More aid materials of course, but our real shortage is trained staff here." She told him when a man coughed and puked up crimson slime. The head healer immediately turned and shoved aside the novice who'd come look. She placed her hand over the man's chest, which Lex now saw, was caved in. The woman began the gestures of healing, panting and biting down on her lip as if she was in great pain and unable to scream. It took a long time but finally the injured man relaxed. The healer wiped her brow, gave instructions to the novice and came back to the Guard-captain. She told him about the loss of the Healer's hall in central Kvatch and how with it most of the experts, references and supplies had been lost. As she explained, only the ones who were out on late night visits to patients or bunked with family instead of in the dorms, had been lucky enough to escape.
"So what you are saying," Lex said, "is that they are not trained to handle these kind of injuries."
"Most of us are. First to third years aren't, so they get the lighter work. Simple fractures, nursing, assisting their seniors. It's a matter of scale. Smith literally killed himself trying to push out one more healing spell. Binds-the-Straw overdosed on magicka restoration potions, I didn't even know an Argonian could overdose on anything. The rest of us walk on the edge. We don't have enough people and don't have enough magicka."


There was little Lex could do to resolve her problem. He could always round up a few volunteers who knew a thing or two about healing, but they were unlikely to be more knowledgeable than even a first year student of the guild. And from what he understood, they needed masters, not novices.
"How about mercenaries? Aren't they skilled at treating battlefield injuries?" The man ventured after some time. Most mercenaries, at least the good ones, knew how to deal with the injuries they suffered in their line of work. While the ones that had joined the convoy weren't under any direct authority of either Stone-Breaker or himself, he was certain he could hire them with the promise of later compensation from the Cyrodiil guard. As a Guard-captain he did have the liberty to modify the budget as needed.


"Mercenaries treat wounds like they're nails with a big hammer. Just hold up your hand and pump magic into yourself till the flesh is kind of okay." The old healer scoffed and mimed the motion. "And in a few years you're hobbling around on knees that grew sideways and your heart feels like its dangling on a string. Mercenaries can't even heal themselves proper, nevermind others."


Lex gestured with a thumb at the Maormer.
"You did seem to allow one in your tent." He answered. She didn't seem to be unwelcome. Had she said who or rather what she was? It didn't seem likely to him. She had maintained a false identity when they last met and to be fair, he didn't think that saying one was a princess would be a good idea in this refugee camp. At best, they'd laugh her away for she didn't look like one, at worst she'd get mobbed for help.
"She's Stendarr's mercy," The old woman said, "sent by him in our time of need. I don't know where she came from and she's not guild but someone must have given her the optional course. Maybe one of the teachers had his own secret protégée, not that I care right now. All I care is that she knows how to fix people without magic. It doesn't get them on their feet, but they won't die and we'll have plenty of time to finagle out the details for a full recovery. No comment on the makeup though."




"Look, sir. If you want to help us, get those greedy bastards in the warehouses to open their damned doors. We can use the fresh clothes they store by the cratefuls to improvise bandaging. It wouldn't be the real deal but it beats the mud-raked filth we're all wearing right now. And food. No one's had a bite to eat since the escape. The patients need strength to heal and we need it to keep saving them. Get that for us, please. I beg you."


Lex nodded and saluted.
"I'm on it, madam. You have my word." He said and turned to his men.
"Come along, troops. We've got some law to enforce."

[mALX]

What a fascinating and intricate look into healing you took here, real worldbuilding in healing and in Kvatch - Loved this chapter! You are really bringing Kvatch's plight to life with your story, I am loving this! Awesome Write!

[McBadgere]

Nicely done Jack...

Lex is an excellent character and I'm loving the way you're writing him...His adoration for the elf is brilliantly done... ...

It was the healing arts all mothers knew. The art of cleaning the wound and stopping the leaking of blood so that the body could repair itself.

I loved that...Such a truism...*Applauds*...

So looking forward to how this continues...

Brilliant stuff...Loved it!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[jack cloudy]

So the powercable of my modem broke. It's one of those proprietary (is that the right word?) ones, so I had to get a specific replacement from the internet provider. Ok, took about a week for them to send the new one in the mail. Except the new cable had one of the prongs bent at a 45 degree angle. Great going guys, that's some real quality control. So much for the almighty bubblewrap. Ah well, at least I got a replacement for the replacement. Different amparage, but I'm too far gone to care.


In better news, we are almost ready to shut us some marble jaws! So let's hang out with Sorian, shall we?






Chapter 10.4


Kvatch main gates


Kvatch had been conquered by goblins. Of all things, crazed wood elves, Orcs remaking their land for the fifth time, high elves trying to conquer the world, goblins were the last thing I'd expected. The yellow savages had always been at war with everything that wasn't a part of their tribe. Whether that was Redguard or Imperial or other goblin-tribes, they were the enemy. They were vicious and evil creatures. Always trying to kill and pick clean anyone they perceived as weak. Although they still thought that the rock on a stick was novel weapon, so their threat was laughable usually. As part of the Skaven militia I'd aimed to keep their numbers low, patrolling the local hideouts. We did a good job, too. Most of the time.


One year we'd failed and the goblins had bred enough of their kin to think they could take Skaven. They didn't, but killed a lot of good people. We're Redguard. Everyone in Skaven, apart from the infants and the eldest, posessed a sword and the skill to use it. But even if one of us could slay five of the beasts, there were ten more charging across the dunes. The goblins almost won, but at the darkest moment a single swordsinger left their academy and drove them off. An Ansei, just one. The sword sliced the air in a typhoon of steel, graceful arcs that never stopped or slowed for even a moment. And never missed. It was a humbling thing to see and not just for the goblins.


She looked like my grandmother tending her garden, complete with unseeing eyes and a walking stick.


So I supposed they could murder small villages if left alone for too long. But a whole city was another thing. No goblin tribe could ever grow to the point where it would attack a fortified place like Kvatch. It would fracture long before then. And no tribe ever worked with another. So what had posessed these goblings to try and perhaps more important, what had helped them win? I didn't understand at all. This should be impossible.


Still, I figured the princess should see it. She'd wanted to know what was going on in Kvatch and shoving the dead goblin in her face would save a lot of questions and explaining. No one stopped me when I moved over to pick it up. There was a warning not to get too close to the gap in the wall but I wasn't going there so they soon stopped shouting. When the archers had used it for target practice, the thing had been thrown into the air and off the side of the mountain. Funny thing, that. I was no archer but it seemed odd that some arrows could toss it away like a ragdoll. Goblins were a lot bigger and heavier than they looked. If they'd ever stand up straight, the average specimen would come to my shoulder easily. I mimed an archer as I got close to the edge. It felt wrong. It was almost as if the ground had forgotten to pull it down the moment it breathed its last.


The goblin had fallen down and bounced from the rocks till it had come to a rest in a small fissure. I was careful climbing down to it. The stones were sharp and oftentimes loose beneath the feet. I didn't like the idea of being shredded like the goblin because of a simple misstep. But by proceeding slowly and inspecting each foot- or handhold before using it, I got there. Turned out the goblins of the Imperial province were different than the ones back home in Hammerfell.


First was the fact it was light as a feather, literally, which surprised me. No goblin I'd ever seen had been this light. Just the gusts of wind made it dance on the rock as if it was about to fly off again. It also definitely looked off now that I'd gotten close to it. I'd already seen on the way down that the skin was darker than the sandy white-yellow I was used to. But up close it turned out not to be skin at all, but a coarse fur. The fur darkened further from the legs down, who had that odd bend and clawed toes of the Argonian and Khajiit instead of the normal human-like foot. Oh, and it had a long rat-like tail. Anyway, I grabbed its tail with one hand and slung the critter over a shoulder. Then I made my way further down to the nearest bend of the path.



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I forced my way through the crowd in and around the tent. Carrying the bloody and tattered remains of a goblin made it easy. They scattered and a few even screamed or started crying. That wasn't my intention though. I wasn't trying to scare folks, just get by them. I hadn't thought they would actually go crazy on seeing the goblin. I should have known better. These people had just lost their whole city to the things after all.
"Sorian! You're upsetting people with that thing! Toss it out!" The princess, predictably, bit at me. She didn't even look up from whatever it was that she was doing. Neither did the fighter's guild man she'd hired.
"That thing," I replied in what I thought was an even tone. I'd get rid of the goblin, but first I'd give her the information she'd asked for. "That is what's burned down Kvatch. Some kind of goblin." It got the attention I'd sought.


Both looked up at me and spoke together.
"That's not a," Said Baurus but he cut himself off before he'd gotten very far. Maorlatta did finish her line. But I didn't like it at all.
"So they're called goblin? Funny, I was taught you use the same word here as on the islands. Daedra. Or is this a nickname?"


I looked at the creature whose tail I was holding. This little furred monster, a Daedra? The word conjured an image of massive inhuman beasts. All teeth, claws, oozing poison, a hundred eyes of all sizes and fire-shooting nostrils. Not something like this. It looked too....harmless. I wanted to say she was wrong, but Baurus had been about to say something similar and besides, this was princess Orgnum we were talking about. Elves were always trying to find some new way to raise the dead or open the gates to Oblivion and that was just the ones in the empire. She was some overstudied pampered royalty from off the edge of the maps. What if she knew things they didn't know in Tamriel and was actually right?
"Woah, back that horse up. You're saying this thing here is a Daedra?"



"Yes I did. To be specific it's a...ah," She said and stroked a bloody finger across her chin. It was hard not to stare at the big streak it left behind. How could someone who was so loudly against violence have no problem cutting people up in the name of healing? She continued, "I don't know what the Cyrodiilic word is. But loosely translated, it would be 'little dumb screecher'. Very descriptive. They're useful for small labour if kept under control, but make a mess the moment you slip the spell." She proceeded with a story on how one of her teachers had demonstrated the fury of a free Daedra and how she hated being the one who had to clean up and fix the lab afterwards. Meanwhile, she sewed up some guy's throat and moved to a woman lying on another crate. The princess' bodyguard took the chance to ask her a question.
"Lady, would you know why it is here?" He asked and she snapped at him while waving her hand.
"Baurus, I'm busy! Ask the summoner."


Baurus looked at me and I shrugged. Nobody had told me about a summoner. Actually, I couldn't remember any mention about an elf, only the monsters.
"I don't think there is one." I said.
"But there has to be." Maorlatta insisted. She was prodding the crying woman and laying out a pair of scissors. I had to look away before I got sick. Or sicker. "This one is dead and without conscious effort from either a summoner or the Daedra itself, it can't exist in Mundus. It should fade in seconds. Besides, the little dumb screecher is too weak to enforce its own being. It has to be the summoner." Her rambling slid away from the Daedra into a cool description of the woman's wounds. I shook my head and Baurus took me outside.


We hid the Scamp in a big bag. I figured we should just toss it away, but the fighter thought that Maorlatta might want to investigate it some more later. She did seem to know a thing or two about summoning and would love to get her hands on something irregular like a Scamp that didn't fade. We then went back to the entrance of the tent but stayed in a corner. I'd learned by now that Baurus was practically obsessed with watching over his charge so I didn't object even though I'd rather gone for some fresh air. But I didn't want to go alone. There were Daedra out there!
"Kid, exactly how many Daedra are we dealing with here? Are they all Scamps?" The Redguard whispered to me after a while.
"Not sure. Lex and the other guy asked one of the locals. He didn't count them, but there were definitely a lot. Scamps, Argonians and something he described as living torches." I repeated to him what I'd heard about the attack. How the Daedra came out of nowhere from inside the city and how the guards had sealed the gates before rapelling down the wall to safety. I also said that the gobli- Scamp had come out of a small door in the outer wall. It looked like the Daedra were trapped inside, but I felt a lot more secure when I still thought Kvatch had been raided by a goblin-alliance.


"You think the lizards are up to something?" I asked eventually.
"Let's not start throwing accusations right away. Most summoners have enough trouble handling one Daedra, and two if they push themselves. Daedra are tough too, trust me on that. But to take a city you need numbers. Big numbers." He said and shook his head. "You might just be right on there not being one in the first place."



"What do we do?"
"Nothing. I aim to guard the lady. Everything else is secondary. What you do, is your own choice. But take my advice. Don't try to be a hero."

[McBadgere]

Sorry I'm late...Again...Just trying to get the work-around thing working... ...

Aaamywho...Excellently done chapter...Loved the talk of all the goblins and such...Muchly well done there!!!...

Looking forward to much more of this... ...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[jack cloudy]

I'm running with the assumption that Daedra are rare in central Cyrodiil (or Hammerfell I suppose) and that people instead draw comparisons with what they do know. Hence the whole wingless imps/goblin thing.


In other news, I'm going to lose internet again while the whole building gets renovated. The current estimate till it gets restored is a few weeks but I'm hoping it will be shaved down a bit. So till then, have this short bit. In the next update (which at my usual glacial pace will be next year.) I plan to drop a bomb or two and light a fire under some behinds. Metaphorically.




Chapter 10.5


Lower Kvatch


Lex took his time to approach the wooden structure that used to be the combined barracks and warehouse. Behind him his troops sauntered at ease but he raised a finger and quietly asked for a professional march. The men did so and matched his pace. They even all did their best to put on a grim and aggressive visage. Lex had to suppress a grin. The soldiers Stone-Breaker had given him were good. Good enough to know what he wanted without having to spell it out.


There were two mercenaries standing guard, though a lock would have done a better job. The thugs, for mercenary was too good a word in Lex's eye, were dressed in only the most provisoric of armour and armed with a simple club. It was enough to ward off the few beggers, but didn't stop those with less direct means of obtaining food. Such as the Bosmeri woman who calmly came out a backdoor while dragging a bulging sack over the floor. She passed a hand in it when she walked by a family of two. A wrapped package was dropped into their laps and she continued at the same pace. Lex let it slide. Was stealing from thieves really stealing? Lex thought it was but at the moment he was far more interested in hooking the larger fish. Besides, though he didn't give any stock to the steal-from-the-rich-and-give-to-the-poor stories that surrounded the Grey Fox, he didn't object to the idea on moral grounds.


The crooks waved their clubs threateningly when approached but the weapons dropped when they realized that Lex wasn't the only one making his way through the crowd. It was a simple matter of numbers. Outnumbered six to one by men who were all better armed than they were, they would have to be either monumental heroes or idiots to provocate the soldiers. Chain instead of patched leather, short swords and spears instead of a firehardened stick. The men felt that it would be better if he sought someone else to take the heat.


In this case that someone else was one of the merchants who maintained the monopoly Lex intended to break. The man came out looking most displeased at the interuption of whatever he'd been doing but like the guards posted outside he soon sobered up when he realized that he wasn't dealing with a rabble of hungry refugees. Lex told the man what he wanted in a straightforward manner. The release of the food and any other items that were needed by the refugees. Of course the merchant protested and claimed they were the ones who prevented all-out chaos and hoarding by the strong. Lex countered by stating that he didn't see much of a difference between the hypothetical hoarding of gangs and the real hoarding of the merchant and his colleagues. The back and forth repeated itself a few times until the spokesman for the merchants dipped into a different tactic. Bribery.



"Look, you only arrived this morning. Surely you are an entrepreneurial spirit. So let me tell you something that would peak your interest, sir....?" He said with his best smile. In contrast Lex's face was carefully kept devoid of any expression though inside the guard-captain was practically cheering.
"Try it. If you have the guts." He thought.
"Hieronymous Lex." He said and the merchant, who was a Redguard, paled so far one would be forgiven for thinking he was a Nord instead.
"Who is it?" Someone called from within the building and the spokesman yelled back a single word.
"Lex!" The silence that followed brought a smile to Hieronymous' lips.


He clapped the stricken man on the shoulder. It was a friendly gesture but he might as well have put his sword at his throat.
"I believe you were going to tell me something?" Lex asked and his smile grew.
"It ah, just slipped my mind." The merchantman stammered. "I'm sorry. I can't remember what it was."
"That is just too bad." Lex began. He felt not a shred of pity or mercy for those who would take advantage of a disaster in the name of profit. He felt even less compassion for those who had moved to capitalize so fast it had to be second nature. He continued on while leaning in close to the man's face. The false friendliness was gone, replaced with the commanding tone Lex normally used to adress his guards at the morning brief.
" Let me tell you something instead then, mister. You are going to the healers. You personally, not an employee. You will ask the head healer in detail what she needs and you will provide it immediately. Also you will coördinate with Savlian Mathius of the Kvatch guard in feeding everyone. Meanwhile, these two troopers here will go inside and receive a full inventory on what you have stored away. They will be allowed to check each item with their own eyes. Any obstruction will be seen as a criminal act and punished through the full extent of Imperial law. Am I understood?"


The two soldiers he'd appointed saluted and shouldered their way passed the Redguard into the building where they loudly repeated the instructions they'd just received, as if they were daring anyone inside to take offense. The silence inside the building continued, proving to Lex that there wasn't going to be a problem. That he actually regretted slightly. He would have enjoyed to string them all up and have them carted off to a prison at the earliest opportunity. But he had his priorities and as long as they followed his commands to the letter from here on out, he couldn't accuse them of a crime.


The only one who did protest was the one he'd been speaking to, and even that was only a weak complaint about how his goods had been bought at a high price and how the Redguard couldn't just give it away without financial ruin.
"Am I supposed to consider your prosperity more important than theirs?" Lex thought.
"If you have any objections of a financial nature, keep them. I am certain that the Imperial Customs Department will reimburse you for any monetary loss you receive while saving lives."



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For the rest of the day Lex busied himself with handling all the little conflicts that arose. Who had stolen from who, who had refused to share, who had said a foul word or pushed the wrong person in the rush to escape. All the little things he hated to do, but which no one else could. That evening Ulberth Stone-Breaker descended into the camp and after deliberating with Mathius, Lex and the healers, he had the messengers sent to Skingrad.
"Tomorrow we will see some real aid in this place. And we'll lay siege to Kvatch. No one gets in or out." He said.





"You're going to throw away the key and pretend it never happened. That sure worked out great last time."

[McBadgere]

Brilliant!!...

...

Loved the way Lex dealt with the merchant... ...Lets hope the rest of his time there goes as smoothly...

Yeah...As if... ...

Nicely done...

*Applauds heartily*..

[jack cloudy]

Whew, internet is back. I've got a lot of catching up to do. Well, more than usually.

I like the idea that Lex has a reputation as that one incorruptible guy you can't intimidate, you can't blackmail and who takes bribes as a personal insult.

For now we move back to Latta because she hasn't had a chance to say her thing in a while. And there will be a random rant at the end.





Chapter 10.6


I scarcely noticed the passing of the time. When the sun set, I'd merely called out for light without being aware of just why it had become too dark to work. If it wasn't for the Redguards, who forced me to eat, rest, and dragged me over to observe the Skingrad commander's council, I'd probably still be wandering the tent like some mindless insect. And speaking of eating, I'd had Sorian put everything in my mouth like a toddler. He asked me to say 'ah' and I almost slapped him. Almost. It was embarassing enough already, especially in public, but I couldn't even stand the thought of touching anything after having spent most of the day digging in people's guts. Who knew what and how many taints I'd wedged under my fingernails at the moment.


It had always been sort of a flaw of mine. While I was working, it didn't faze me. But now my teeth and nails itched and I was overcome with a desperate desire to bathe and scrub that made it hard to focus on anything else. Perfumed oils, a glass of extract, the enchanted music cube and of course a skilful massage. I enjoyed the fantasy to take my mind off this place. Off the wounded stuck in the filthy tent, the missing children and the unnatural storm that continued to brew above the stronghold. It was a shame my bubble had to be popped so quick.


"You're going to throw away the key and pretend it never happened. That sure worked out great last time."




I didn't see who had so rudely interupted, but it got everyone talking at the same time. The Kvatch and Skingrad leadership had sat themselves down on crates while a small crowd had formed around them. Sorian, Baurus and I stood away a short distance from the group so all I saw were the backs of people. Anyhow, the comments ranged from critiscism to doomsaying to suggestions that themselves ranged from the reasonable to the outlandish. A big green, something, wanted to know when a real man was going to take charge and actually do something. Another fellow right in front of me screeched about end-times and prophecies and how the world was going to end in three days. Off to the side an amberskinned elf was holding her child, while saying how it was all 'his' fault and that she shouldn't have let 'him' steal 'it'. And those were all 'sane' people, though the prophecy-man made me wonder. There was one gray-skinned elf who talked about a brass statue he'd seen in Mourndom as if it could solve their problems. I didn't see how a statue was going to help. Was it supposed to blind the Daedra by being very well-polished? Or perhaps it was supposed to summon a Daedric prince. From what Sorian had told me, we were dealing with at least hundreds of Daedra of various forms. And not just the lowly ones like screechers, but also the bigger elementals and destroyers. The latter were hard to summon, harder to keep in Mundus and especially hard to control. And that was when dealing with just a single Daedra. For hundreds to be summoned to the same place at the same time could only be accomplished in three ways. By gathering hundreds of top-level summoners or by entering into a very costly contract with a prince. The third involved an artifact I'd learned off in my studies, but it had been stolen by an eastern Altmer back in the First Era and never been seen again.
"Someone must have made a contract, it's the only thing that makes sense. But summoning one Daedric army to stop another isn't the answer. That's like curing air-dead water by adding poison."


The arguments began to detoriate into an unruly mob. People began jostling and Stone-Breaker's call for order went unheard. I could feel someone put a hand on my shoulder to gently drag me out of the conflict area. Probably Baurus. He had the right idea, of course. No one would be helped if I got injured in a riot. But I'd begun to think now. Something was up with this Daedric horde. Something that made the usual answers not match up. I shook off Baurus' hand and stepped back forward and then paused. How should I proceed?


"First of all, get people's attention." I reasoned and opened my mouth to add my own voice to the choir. But I didn't even need to say a word to realize that just shouting 'shut up!' wasn't going to change a thing. Everyone was yelling now and deaf to their own words. I had to stop the current chain before the Skingrad officer arrived at the point where he would enforce order by the blade.
"How would grandfather do this?" I thought to myself and to my regret I had not even a clue. I held the king in high regard, but we hadn't met often and most of the time it was in a formal setting surrounded by my elders which made any attempt at actual conversing with the immortal impossible. Also, there were no riots at his palace.


Stone-Breaker raised his hand to his troops and I knew there was no time left to contemplate the right course of action. I would have to trust my instincts and upbringing. I made another step forward to the center of the mob and raised my own hands. I bent them slightly at the fingers and humned the song of heavy afternoons. Crackling wips of lightning darted between my fingers. I clapped, breaking the air trapped within my hands. The resulting CLAP!!! deafened all around and stunned them into silence. I repeated the act, step... CLAP!!!...step...CLAP!!! till I'd got where I wanted to be. Right in front of the Skingrad commander. I nodded to him, as if I was granting him permission to stand down, and then without giving the man the chance to respond I jumped on top of a crate to adress the crowd.


"Everyone, listen up!" I began, but then my lack of confidence in myself got hold of me.
"Damn it, Latta. You are an Orgnum, bred to rule! Taking charge should be in your blood. Besides, if you bite your tongue now, you'll emberass your House. Just improvise." I told myself furiously. I moved on to introduce myself, and steal a few more seconds to think.
"I am Org...Maorlatta Orgnum, empowered by the Lord Emperor Septim the Seventh, ruler of Tamriel, to speak in his name." Mentioning Pyandonea would have been a bad idea. Apart from nobody having heard of the place if Sorian was anything to go by, I needed legitimate authority here. House Orgnum was legitimate, back home, House Septim was in charge here. I could also really do with a bath and a nice dress instead of the bloodsplattered travelling leathers, but damn it, I didn't need any of that. If grandfather could rally demoralized people on a battlefield while he was bleeding out from a dozen mortal wounds, then so could I.
"You will not talk unless given leave to do so by me. Anyone who needlessly interupts will leave. Anyone who uses his or her chance to speak for meaningless drivel will leave."


So far I'd sailed on shock and not giving anyone the opportunity to digest my words rationally. But now Stone-Breaker seemed like he'd gotten over the initial surprise. He was chewing his lip and looked like he was going to drag me down from the makeshift stage. That would be bad to say the least. Thoughts on how to stop him flitted through my mind. Set Baurus upon him? The Redguard would probably do so on his own if the Skingrad giant tried anything, but having a man in uniform gutted would result in absolute chaos. And every soldier out there aiming for our throats. I should tell him to stay put. But how? I could say anything I liked, but I didn't actually have proof I was who I claimed to be.
"Maybe I should reveal my heritage anyway. I don't look like any elf-line they know." I thought. Stone-Breaker nodded to himself and I felt Baurus shift behind me.


Just when I thought it was too late to defuse the situation, the man next to Stone-Breaker, smaller and unarmored but still wearing an uniform of some sorts, simply took the Nord's arm and shook his head. I didn't know who he was or how he'd done it, but Stone-Breaker stood down again. I pushed it all from my mind however as I continued to play the crowd. I set down a few more rules, while also dropping references to Uriel Septim and court laws at various points. I allowed a few to say their thing and fished for a few more eyewitness acounts so I could get a better idea of what was going on. Daedra did sack the city, large numbers of them. But there was something else that Sorian hadn't mentioned. Some claimed that the buildings of Kvatch itself had faded and been replaced with something else. It sounded impossible but I only had to look up at the storm brewing to remind myself that the impossible no longer applied here.



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All this had only been a prelude however. What I really had been after from the beginning was the confession of the amber mer. She had to be a Bosmer, black eyes and twirling hair that was too dark to be of Altmeri stock, not to mention lacking in height. Supposedly I looked like one which was part of the reason why I'd been chosen for the diplomatic mission, but I failed to see any resemblence. That however, wasn't too important right now. I asked her for her name.


"Rajn Geydar." I recognized the name instantly. That was one of the two people the emperor had wanted me to collect from Kvatch. But it couldn't be this woman. The Rajn Geydar on the note had only been 57 years old and the one standing in front of me was definitely much older. I shot a glance at the little girle beside her. Perhaps the name Rajn was passed on from mother to daughter. But where Rajn the elder was too old, the child was too young. Perhaps she had an older sibling.
"Who I notice, is not here. Auri-El protect her."


I asked her to repeat what she'd said to herself when the crowd threatened to riot and though it took some coaxing, I got a coherent story out of here. Apparantly she and a 'Arie', probably her husband, had come into the posession of an artefact that possibly could tear the barriers between Mundus and Oblivion. For years she had it mounted over the door because she liked how it sparkled. But just the day before an Altmer had apparantly recognized the object for what it was and flown into a rage. Later that night, the Daedra arrived and when she took Baleni, which was the name of the little girl, she noticed that the artifact had been stolen. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together. The Altmer had taken the object and used it to call out the Daedra.
"Balac-Thurm." I thought. "Did this Bosmer ever realize the meaning of her treasure, the value? Auri-El bound Mundus into the present with it! And she used it as a glorified flagpost!" I could see what had made that Altmer so upset. Then of course he'd taken it and used it for evil, but what else would one expect from an Altmer who had come face to face with the tool of a god?


"Where did you even get the Balac-Thurm in the first place?" I found myself asking in a lapse of judgement. The Bosmer laughed at me as a result.
"Oh, sweetie, that's a long long story and it's time for Baleni to go to bed. Let's just say it is something the big man with the crown gave to mommy and daddy because we saved the world for him. And we beat up someone who was very bad and not nice to children and emperors. Shouldn't forget that bit. What was his name again? Oh right, Tharnie the Terrible. But that's a secret, Baleni. You're not supposed to tell people. Got it?" Somehow, everyone went quiet. Quieter I mean, after removing a few troublemakers no one was speaking unless instructed to first. I felt that this joking answer had some sort of meaning for the people of Tamriel. But I'd never heard of a warlord known as Tharnie the Terrible, nor could I see why his defeat was so important that she would have been rewarded with Auri-El's sacred spear of all things.
"I should ask Sorian and Baurus about this later. But I know one thing now. We need to get the Balac-Thurm back. Or else Kvatch will only be the beginning."






RANT-TIME

Ok, this part was kinda hard. What happens here is that the protagonists find out what occurred at Kvatch. Figuring out how to stop it comes later though, and I'm thinking of doing that off-screen now because today's update already hit the 2000 word mark.

Now to do this I first have to admit I imposed a limit upon myself. As mentioned before I chose not to place an Oblivion gate, and in this part we learn why I suppose. Anyhow, this had the result that I couldn't have anyone reason that the best way to stop the Daedra was to run through the portal and then hope they saw something to undo it.

Without the gate, I needed someone knowledgeable enough to exposit about it in enough detail to convince everyone else. (Though I skipped over the exposition) Now in the story I've so far brought up four people who could conceivably know.



First of all is Mankar Camoran. With the world-piece he can pop up at Kvatch and hold a speech. (or he can just teleport, no reason why he would obey the law while trying to overthrow the symbol of said law.) But he wouldn't have anything to gain from it and I try to stay away from villains who monologue about every detail of his masterplan to the hero.


Second would be Uriel Septim, who fell off for obvious reasons. That leaves us with the two best candidates. Angoril Bobardi and Rajn Geydar.

Angoril knows of course, seeing how he threw a bit fit over the whole thing before Kvatch got Daedra'd. And originally I had him take the role Latta ended up taking, only a bit more direct. I even thought about having him finally make a real reveal over who he is, but in the end I figured that he would rather not do so unless absolutely needed. And since Latta did the job for him, why should he draw attention to himself?

Rajn Geydar originates as Rajn Treesap in another unfinished story of mine which basically tells the tale of the simulacra. To keep things simple, she knows exactly as much as Angoril does for the same reasons. And since she doesn't share his compulsive mystery-man act, I picked her as the one to tell people.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Sep 22 2013, 07:31 PM

[McBadgere]

Fair dues Jack...Nicely done!...

I do like Latta, because she's excellent...Veering from spoil princess "Respect my authoratar!!" to this chapter where she has to act like proper nobility should...Brilliantly done...

Proper brilliant writing there...

Worrying development that they all think Angoril did it... ...

Love this story...

Brilliant stuff!!....

Nice one!!...

*applauds heartily*...

Ooooh, edit nit...

I didn't see how astatue was going to help. Was it supposed to blind the Daedra by being very wellpolished?

[mALX]

Chapter 10.4

I am sorry it has taken so long to get back, darn it I've gotten behind again!

I'm curious as to the nature of this goblin-like being! GAAAAH! I wish Baurus had finished his sentence, I still don't know what it is! Lol.

Oh, a scamp! ROFL !!! I love when you do this, show that these things are strange to the people of Cyrodiil! Awesome Write!


Coming back to catch up, and sorry for the delay!

[mALX]

Chapter 10.5:

This was a great look into the aftermath of any disaster, the looting and high tensions left behind and the law scrambling to keep up and restore order - really nice detail to add, and very well done!

Chapter 10.6

Loved Latta's moments of being unsure of herself in addressing the unruly crowds here, she is such an endearing character!

Apparantly she and a 'Arie', probably her husband, had come into the posession of an artefact that possibly could tear the barriers between Mundus and Oblivion. For years she had it mounted over the door because she liked how it sparkled. But just the day before an Altmer had apparantly recognized the object for what it was and flown into a rage. Later that night, the Daedra arrived and when she took Baleni, which was the name of the little girl, she noticed that the artifact had been stolen. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together. The Altmer had taken the object and used it to call out the Daedra.

"Balac-Thurm." I thought. "Did this Bosmer ever realize the meaning of her treasure, the value? Auri-El bound Mundus into the present with it! And she used it as a glorified flagpost!" I could see what had made that Altmer so upset. Then of course he'd taken it and used it for evil, but what else would one expect from an Altmer who had come face to face with the tool of a god?

This is what I have waited so long for! But no, Latta; the Altmer didn't do this! GAAAAH! This chapter was long awaited!!!!

AWESOME WRITE !!!

[jack cloudy]

Woops, I'll have to fix the errors.

But yeah, racism leads to hasty conclusions.


Okay, this update ended up being longer than the usual at ~2400-2500 words. It also is more procrastinating when I think about it but hey, I had fun writing it. And because we keep hopping between viewpoints without changing location, I mentioned the viewpoint character at the start.



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Chapter 10.7, Sorian


We never learned more from the Scamp. By the time we dragged the princess away from the injured so she wouldn't keel over on her feet, the mongrel was gone. Baurus checked for tracks, but the bag we put it in hadn't been opened or moved. It was just gone, poof, went up in smoke. Maorlatta told me this was the natural order of things with Daedra but also mentioned again that it should have faded into Oblivion long before I'd gotten down the mountain with it. Creepy, if you ask me.


Not that I got much time to mulch over the freaky nature of Daedra. I thought I could while hanging at the back of the big meeting but no,the pointy-ear just had to go and put herself in the center of the stage and be her bossy self. And she was the one who had been so set on staying 'discreet'. I swear, I just couldn't keep up with her. So much for elves being slow to act. The only good news was that it got us a room in one of the few solid buildings here. There was no actual bed, but it definitely beat sleeping in the mud under the open sky.


It had other perks as well. Such as the seclusion we needed to do our thing. The princess and her new, better, bodyguard had come up with the idea of everybody teaching everybody. Baurus would teach me how to fight like a jerk while Maorlatta stomped whatever she fancied into my head. I actually kinda liked Baurus' lessons. Sure, the guy was somehow even more serious than the elf which really got on my nerves, but he knew his craft. And his stories on the differences between all kinds of swords and what it meant in battle was interesting. The princesses'...I didn't give much for her things. She had the habit to just start rambling and what use did I have for anything she taught? Healing? In her own words it had taken decades for her to learn how to cut people open without hitting anything important. I would be old before we were finished. Alchemy? I didn't know any of the terms she used! Magic? She was no archmage and while throwing fireballs sounded awesome, she refused to talk about those spells. Letters? Ok, I supposed that could be handy for reading maps and signs. But on the whole, I'd rather stick with Baurus' sword-lessons.


Of course, there wasn't much I could teach them in return. I was just a militia-man turned adventurer. Everything I knew Baurus knew better, apart from the occasional story. So in the end I soaked their wisdom like a sponge, spilled half of it when the princess ran out of words and used elvish ones, and did some chores on the side. One of those chores was that I got to wash and paint her face. Like Baurus, it was one of the things she'd picked up after being kidnapped by the Blades. In this case, someone had given her a 'woman's secret weapon', also known as a box full of powders, brushes, and paints. She never told me much about who this 'Jennifer' was, but I figured she was a Blade. That was the only thing that made sense. Just like how Baurus was probably a Blade, though he claimed to be fighter's guild. I mean, where would she hire him? Skyrim? She couldn't have made it that far by the time Grey-Tongue and I caught up with her!


Anyway, every night I helped her clean herself and every morning I was in charge of fixing her face so her own magical facepaint didn't show. That was harder than it looked really as her skin needed to be completely covered but if I put it on too thick the whole mess just flaked off again. Tonight it was even harder than usual because she'd spent the whole day getting other people's blood all over her. Luckily I found a crate filled with pieces of soap. While I was busy rinsing, we talked. For the most part we avoided actually important subjects like the crazy storm outside but at one point the princess decided to switch to something that mattered.

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"So, Sorian. I've been wondering. Who is this warlord called 'Tharnie'? And why did everyone involved start proverbially licking the Bosmer's toes when she said she'd defeated him? Is this some important war of yours?" She asked me. It floored me for a moment. How could she not know? The Imperial Simulacrum was the biggest thing to happen since Tiber Septim became a Divine! But I supposed she wouldn't know that either. For all that she acted like she was smarter than me, the elf really was clueless about things everyone knew. I supposed I couldn't really blame her for that one. She'd told me about Pyandonea and it sounded like a literal backwater, hidden behind reefs and constant fog. What most got me was how she said that most people didn't even know the word 'foreigner' there.


So I told her about the Simulacrum. I told her about the evil wizard Jagar Tharn, who had banished the Emperor to Oblivion and taken his place on the throne. How he'd changed his own face to match Uriel's so no one would figure it out. I told her about the Eternal Champion and when she asked, explained that noone knew exactly who or what the Eternal Champion was. I told her he was probably an Ansei but Baurus laughed at that. Anyhow, I said to her the story of the Eternal Champion. How he was imprisoned by Jagar Tharn in the catacombs deep beneath the palace. How he escaped from beneath the foul wretch's nose. I told her about the Staff of Chaos, a magical weapon and the only thing Tharn feared. How the impostor had broken the staff into pieces and hid it all over Tamriel. I told the tale of the Eternal Champion, who had journeyed the land and braved the pits and tombs where the pieces of the staff lay hidden. Tharn's minions were always on his heel, Daedra and worse monsters, but the Champion cut them down by the hundreds with sword and spell. Nothing could stop him from remaking the Staff of Chaos. Finally, with the completed and rejuvenated staff in hand, the Champion returned to the palace. There the wizard and hero battled, their powers blowing the top off White-Gold tower. Finally the Staff of Chaos destroyed Jagar Tharn and the Eternal Champion, though mortally wounded in his duel, next walked into Oblivion to free the true Emperor.


I didn't actually get to finish the story. She'd been frowning from the beginning and by the time I got to the final battle she started babbling in elvish and crying. Then a rainbow washed over her face and hands and she openly began bawling like a baby.

"Hey! Hey! What's wrong now? Is it something I said?" I shouted at her. I looked around worriedly, for the walls in this place were thin and cheap. Baurus dissappeared out of the room, maybe to throw everyone else out of the building before they found out that their new leader had lost it. I grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her in an attempt to make her stop but she slapped my hands away.
"No, it's not you. It's just that I'm never going to get home! And I never even wanted to leave in the first place!"


Her words began to flow out as if a dam had broken. There was nothing I could do to make her shut up but listen and hope that Baurus had indeed forced everyone else out of earshot.
"I had to, it was my duty! And I wanted to matter! My estate is a decrepit watchtower guarding against a continent that no longer exists, all my titles are shared with two dozen cousins, uncles and aunts who have a stronger claim on every single one of them and my only purpose is to preserve an unimportant bloodline! I'm the expendable Maormer who is just Orgnum enough to look good as a diplomatic envoy but not Orgnum enough to be missed! Oh sure, the adoption raised my status, but who is going to remember that when grandfather goes on an expedition? Nobody!" I was ashamed to admit this to myself, but though I was worried about what had caused this sudden outburst, I couldn't help but listen with rapt attention. This was different than the usual glorytales she bored me with. This was the real Pyandonea she now cried about and I knew that I was never going to get another chance such as this to learn about her secrets.


"So I get here and the first thing those rotten falseblooded poopeaters do is turn around and go home! Then I get tossed in a prison, almost eaten, shot, eaten again, bound into serving some old lying king because I am too nice for my own good, dragged into a warzone which turns out to be the end of the world and now you tell me that the only man who can deliver me home got his face melted off!"


With that she snapped shut. I wondered why Tharn of all people would know the way into Pyandonea, when she didn't know herself. But I didn't ask her. She wouldn't tell me anyway.


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Instead I tried to divert her attention away from her heartbreak.
"Let's talk about something else. What is this balad drum? I sure never heard of it." I said, grasping at the first thing that came to mind, namely the whole mess with the Wood Elf from earlier. It wasn't the best idea, given how the Wood Elf had led to Tharn and Tharn had led to well, no need to explain that one.

"Balac-Thurm." She corrected me automatically as she wiped the tears from her eyes. I scrounged the office for a handkerchief and gave it to her.
"Thanks. It's the spear of Auri-El, which bound Mundus into...straight....regular...conventional...it was used to make the world we live in." Maorlatta explained but like most times when she tried to tell me something difficult, she ran out of words. Luckily the dumbed down version was something I could understand for a change. Important artefact of the Divines, got it. But there was one thing that she got wrong.
"I'm pretty sure the wood elf called it a ball, not a spear." I told her and to my surprise, the corners of her mouth went up in a half-smile.
"It's from the Merethic era, Sorian. Details on that period are fuzzy at the best of times. Spear, sphere, it's the effect that's important, not what it looks like. Besides, Aedric and Daedric artefacts tend to change shape when nobody's looking. It gives the chroniclers a fit, believe me."


The princess had gotten her humor back, that was good at least. She loudly blew her nose with the kerchief, then folded it and laid it on the armrest of her seat with badly hidden disgust.
"Right, so it is something that made Tamriel and we don't really know what it looks like but it is probably a crystal ball of sorts. So, what is the link between the Balac and these Daedra?" I asked her then. "Seems like an odd coincidence to appear at the same time and place." She didn't answer, but blinked and let a flush of colour wash over her face.
"It seemed to have your sandals all twisted." I explained with a shrug. She had almost gotten as upset over the treehugger's tale as mine. Not to the point of screaming and crying her head off, but enough that I was glad I'd painted her face right.


After a moment the princess clapped her hands and nodded to herself. Then she gave me an explanation. A confusing one.
"How to explain? Daedra can't come here on their own strength. They're from outside and don't belong. Hmm, imagine our world as a big mansion. Now we have a thief who wants to enter the mansion but the master of the estate locked all the doors. What would the thief do?"
"Pick the lock, obviously." I said.
"Argh, no you idiot. He...probably would." She coloured some more and was quiet for a bit.


"Let me try again."


"Imagine the world as a big mansion. All the doors are locked, the servants never leave and the master does not freely hand out keys. There is a vaguely defined person of hostile intent. We'll call him the outsider. The walls are thick and strong, spellspun glass. The outsider can't break them down. There are three ways he can gain entry. First is by going to the backdoor. There are servants not loyal to the master. One of them could open the parcel-hatch which lets the outsider slip in a basket full of rabid rats. The master and the loyal servants will notice of course and remove the rats before they can do much harm. The rats are minor Daedra such as the screechers and the unloyal servant is a summoner.

The second involves the unloyal servant again. This time the unloyal servant will steal one of the master's keys by killing one of the loyal ones and taking his. The key is then passed on to the outsider who will use it to have a hired thug enter the mansion. The thug can do more damage than the rats, but afterwards the master will change all the keys so it only works once. And the unloyal servant is usually the first on the thug's kill-list. I'm talking about making a pact with a Daedric prince now which involves acts of evil and sacrifice. It could be what happened at Kvatch. But I doubt it."


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I thought I understood the important part. Summoning Daedra was hard because the world....didn't like it?
"And what's the third?" I asked. She had quieted down before telling me about that. Did she run out of words again?


I noticed that Baurus had returned. He stood in the dooropening and gave a silent question. The princess nodded to him and he closed the door to sit down with us. I could see he was relieved I'd managed to calm the elf down. Maorlatta waited till he was seated before she continued.
"Balac-Thurm. The master key." She said. "Look here. If you have the master key, the master no longer matters because you are the master now."


It was Baurus who asked the question that had been at the tip of my own tongue.
"You're saying it makes you a god?"
"No, but close enough."




OOC: The Uesp and such say that the Staff of Chaos was created by an enchanter in the first era. I'd already come up with my own theory for the staff before I learned that however. And since the story is pretty much based on my theory, I decided not to fix that. Besides, power-wise it is more on par with the various Daedric/Aedric artefacts than the random enchanted clutter you buy in a store.

And yes, odds are pretty good that I'll explain at some point what the connection between Tharn and Pyandonea are. Mind you, I've already dropped a hint here and there.

[McBadgere]

Loved this!!...

That was all fantastically done...I do love me Baurus...He's one that's not given enough to do in Oblivion...

Brilliant writing...Always loves me Cloudy writing... ...

Nice one Jacky-boy...

*Applauds most heartily*...

[jack cloudy]

It has been how long? Agh, several excuses and none of them hold any water.

Anyhow, I still don't know how I want to do Kvatch. So I figured I'd just bite the bullet and throw everyone towards the climax. The current update is also a long one because I figured that hey, both parts separately were rather short and I really want to get this done and over with.

First bit is Camorans, the second is Sorian. (Maorlatta is supposed to be the main character of her crew, but she's gonna hide in a tent while Sorian and co get to go to the scenic spots.) Anyhow, without further ado.



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Chapter 10.8 Mythic Dawn hideout


"Come to my temple and I shall judge your worth." Dagon's voice echoed through the underground shrine, making the bones of the listeners tremble. There were but two present at the moment. Mankar Camoran and his son, Raven.
"This affects us all, Lord Dagon. If we are to serve you we must be allowed to act now, not waste time with a challenge whose outcome is already set." The elder of the two Altmer, his arms raised, said to the monstrous statue. Again the Daedric Lord's voice shook the chamber.
"One boon, one Trial. Those are the rules, Camoran."


The ceremony to summon the Daedric Prince of destruction had taken hours. Hours of casting spells, chanting prayers and bloody sacrifice. In contrast, their actual negotiations had only taken a few minutes. A few minutes of explanation followed by a clear answer. No. It angered Raven that after all their efforts the Daedra wouldn't even give them the light of day. But there was nothing to do about it. When a Daedra said no, it was final. Especially with one as fickle and enamored with random murder as Mehrunes Dagon.


Mankar lowered his arms and turned away.
"So be it. One of my chosing shall come shortly and face the trial you have prepared." He said and motioned to Raven to follow him as the Mythic Dawn's prophet returned to the safety of Raven's office. There the mer sat down in the chair and placed the milk-coloured coffer on the desk before him.
"For the personifications of change, Daedra are infuriatingly inflexible about their rules." Raven grumbled as soon as he'd closed the door and checked the protective wards that kept anyone from eavesdropping. His father simply shrugged.
"A nuisance, but not outside our expectations. I can trust my Hand to see to this simple test?" He replied.


Raven shot the Altmer a sharp glance. Was that mockery he heard in his words? No, it couldn't be. But the failure still weighed heavily on Raven's mind and he found it hard to think about anything else.
"A test from Dagon. It will involve destruction. And killing. In great measures." He told himself and set himself to think about what was required for the Daedra's trial. Weapons and armor foremost. While he, like his father and sister, considered such to be the tools of lesser people, he was not above using a blade if he had to. Or hide behind a shield.


But where was he going to get any of it? They'd once had enough to outfit an army. Real weapons and real armour that had carefully been gathered over the decades, not the magical duplications that could fade at the most inoportune moment. But what wasn't still with their strike teams scattered across the province had been lost at the capital. When Harrow goaded the fools into the undercity where they drowned.
"Harrow has a sword. That ebony blade from Vvardenfell." Raven remembered and a cruel smile tugged at his lips. The traitorous Dunmer didn't deserve such a fine weapon. But one sword was only the beginning.
"I need arms and armour, father. Of high quality."



If there was anyone who knew the price of quality, whether it came in the form of a sharp blade or a well-placed bribe, it was Mankar Camoran. He didn't argue though, not this time. His hands lifted the lid of the box in front of him. He then took out a single coin and flicked it through the air at his son.
"We now possess literally limitless funds. Buy what you must but be quick about it." He said and picked up a second coin which he turned over in his hand.
"We could play the long game. Go underground and wait for a better time." Mankar murmured softly. The words however, struck Raven like a hammer.
"You wish to throw away what we have and lay low?!"


Still looking at the coin, Mankar chuckled and replied, "Is that impatience I hear?"
"It is not." Raven bristled at the accusation. "I can wait however long we need. From days to centuries. But after all the effort we put into the Dawn, it would be a waste to just throw it all away without expending it to the utmost. Besides, right now we have Uriel Septim bottled up. If we vanish, he can come out and appoint an heir. He could singlehandedly prevent everything we've planned."


It wasn't as easy as his words might suggest. While the Mythic Dawn had failed to kill the emperor himself, the assassination of his children had been an overwelming success. As it stood, the Septim dynasty was poised to end with the death of the current emperor. That was something which wasn't far off even without the Camoran's plot on his life. Uriel Septim had been on and off his deathbed for years now. Come every winter, all the physicians would declare, with the appropriate sorrow and graveness, that the emperor of Tamriel would almost certainly pass away into the embrace of the Divines this year. And come every spring, the old man had shattered their predictions. But how long would his luck and near inhuman will to live continue? Not long according to both Camorans. Especially now that Uriel had been driven from the comforts of his palace in temperate Cyrodiil, to the belly of a gletsjer where Northern Skyrim would seem like a blazing oven.


When he passed, there would be no one to take the throne and Uriel would be hard-pressed to find someone who could take his place to everyone's satisfaction. Oh, there were plenty of claimants, ranging from side-branches of the Septim line to venerable council members such as Ocato to every warlord and wanabe noble with ambition. They would all stake their claim on the various rights of blood and merit. And when diplomacy failed, let their armies do the talking. Before long all of Tamriel would be plunged into an endless war that would shatter everything the empire meant. When the enemies ran out of uniformed men to throw into the grinder, they would turn to any man or woman old enough to hold a weapon. Entire provinces would be depopulated, their rulers lying as carrion for crows in the same fields as the peasants. There would be no time or hands for agriculture, commerce and all the other things that bound Tamriel together. A dark era would follow, an era of warlords clinging to their ruined castles and whatever scraps of land they could hold onto. That was the future of the world as Mankar Camoran had planned it. That was the future that would come inevitably, no matter how many valiant men and women, how many heroes quested to prevent it and restore the peace. That those heroes were likely to clash and undo each other's work towards the common goal was merely a sad irony.


After a moment of silence Mankar returned the coin and closed the lid on the milkywhite box.
"True." Mankar said, "Our opponents are graver than we thought, but we are far from beaten."
He took the priceless artefact from the pillow it rested on and held it out to his son.
"Take the coffer with you Raven, and hide it well. We'll stick to this plan for a while yet but if things keep getting worse for us, I want it safe. Far away from Harrow or this Dreth of yours."


Raven turned to leave with the coffer. But the moment he made a single step towards the door he froze. No matter how much he struggled, the Altmer couldn't move and his eyes widened at the familiar greenish glow that shimmered on the walls. His father walked around him in a circle and studied his reaction. Then he lifted the spell he'd cast.
"As I thought." He said and waved aside all the questions that burned on the younger Camoran's tongue.
"Later. I'd rather not have to explain twice. Go do Dagon's chore, my son. I will fetch Ruma before she can come to harm."


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Kvatch, Sorian


No one volunteered.


Go in, grab the thingie, find Kvatch. That was the plan the treehugger had come up with. As far as plans went, it was rather dumb. But then again, what did a tavern owner know about battles? Baurus, Hieronymous Lex and some other men worked out a better one. But it wasn't that much better. At least it was simple to remember.


The soldiers would go in first and make as much noise as possible before falling back to the gap in the wall. The place was a perfect spot to hold. A corridor with right angle turns and Stone-Breaker thought they could block it off quickly with a barricade made from his troops' shields. There would be just enough room for the people behind it to poke at any enemies with spears. A hundred warriors against an endless horde of monsters. And that was supposed to be the easy part. It was what they were trained for, what they understood. Just that their foes were Daedra instead of other soldiers didn't change it, just made it harder. Which was probably why no one volunteered for the real fight.


While the bait was trying its best not to get eaten, a second party would go over the walls in a different spot and enter Kvatch itself. What came after that we didn't know. Find the thingie, find the princess' master key. Easier said than done considering that we had an entire city full of Daedra to search. While dragging the treehugger along. She was the only one who could recognize the artefact on sight and use it. So not just a walk through an overrun city, but also an escort. No wonder no one volunteered. The soldiers because they were needed at the wall, the mercenaries because they wanted to have a chance to spend their coin. Even Baurus passed on it at first.


"I am sworn to guard you. Were you to walk into Oblivion yourself, I would be one step ahead of you.. If you will not, I cannot go either." He'd said, then launched into how he didn't want her to go. She'd cut him off before he could finish one more sentence.
"Baurus, this isn't about me. This is about protecting all of Mundus. If I thought I would be of any help going in there myself, I'd drug myself with whatever I needed to stop thinking about my own safety and jump in. And that's why I want you to forget about that oath. Honour isn't worth the breath of its declaration if there is no one alive to hear it. I'm going to save everyone my way. Every single one of them. You can't help me with that."
They'd argued over it till late in the night but in the end it hadn't been a contest. One was taught to fight with swords, the other with words. By morning, I expected he would be the first to show up at the breach with half an armoury hanging off him.




I volunteered. A city under siege by monsters from another world? An Ansei wouldn't hesitate twice and more importantly, I was not going to let Baurus upstage me. The fact that the princess had insisted on sending him because he was good at it, yet refused me the same glory, stung.
"Do I have to bring up the zombie? Again?" Maorlatta had snapped at me when I told her of my plans.
"You just did. And I don't care. You need people for your crazy scheme and I don't exactly see them lining up outside." I'd said back at her.
"There isn't enough coin in the world to convince even one mercenary and the soldiers hide behind their rules and orders. You need people and you're not getting them!"
" You're too greedy , Sorian. It's suicide.."
"And that right there is why everybody is suddenly so busy!"


I ran out before she could give me second-thoughts.



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I walked around camp for a while, looking around and making idle talk with a few soldiers who let me join them at their fire. They weren't happy, but then nobody was. Not that it was all bad. There were lights in the west, which promised reinforcements from Anvil soon. And we had our own messengers racing to Skingrad for more troops and whatnot right that moment. So even if we were to fail tomorrow, at least the survivors would be able to get some solid aid.


When morning drew near I climbed the road to the front gates. I still didn't want to give the Maormer another chance to tell me how stupid I was for going and figured that I should be safe if I went up early. Because there was no way she would go anywhere near the city. Not after telling everyone how dangerous it was. At least that was what I thought. It turned out that she had gone up even before I did. Now Maorlatta and a bunch of other healers were setting up a tent with beds and tables and all the other tools of their trade. Baurus was not going to like this. She came running the moment she saw me and asked a very predictable question.
"You're still going?"


What was I supposed to say? Yes? She would just complain again. But after a moment of awkward silence she shoved her shoulderbag into my hands and went back to the tent without another word. I saw Baurus sitting on a stone near the gate and walked over to join him. He was sharpening a sword. A thin curved one, not one of his own straight ones. The treehugger and her daughter were with them. She was making up a story about the blade, how it had been hidden inside a wall of her home by a big green Orc. I hoped she wasn't going to drag the little girl along.


"So, this is it? Just us two?" I said once I got near. The elf didn't count.
"Three." Someone said behind me. It was the gateguard I'd seen talking with Lex and Stone-Breaker the day before. Mathius.
"I'm coming with you." He continued. The man was filthy, eyes red and baggy. His shoulders drooped and his hands shook.
"I think not. You can hardly stand." I replied. Before I could react the man snatched the bag out of my hands and took a vial out of it which he chugged down.
"I am a guardsman of Kvatch. For centuries we have defended her walls and I will not permit anyone to say that the wolves abandoned her in her hour of need while outsiders fought and died for her sake."


How had he known the princess' bag held potions? He must have seen her fill it. But wouldn't she need it herself? I looked to Baurus for advice but the Redguard only looked at the sword in his hands.
"You will follow my orders without questioning. We are not here for honour or glory. We are here because we are needed." He said and stood up.
"The troops are getting ready. We should get into position ourselves."