Corrupted heart, part 2, And I ain't halfway yet, dudes. Options

[jack cloudy]

You know, I've just been reading back a lot to for the description of the Battlespire's entrance. It made me notice that I missed something in my description of the world proper. Namely, the rivers of magma. That's kinda funny, but this is the first time a character went outside Battlespire on-screen so Harms might have been lying for the sake of sticking to a description his pupils could imagine. That and frankly, the new description of a barely kept together shattered planet is a heck of a lot cooler than the cliche hell I had at first.




Cyrodiil

Jagar Tharn watched the still waters of the Shiftgate. Behind him, was the royal bath. Over the past few years, he had cultivated the image of a frail health, the image of a man who took regular baths to help fight his arthritis, one who preferred to take those baths in solitude. It was rather ironic, for the man he portrayed had reached the peak of his strength. Still, he mused as he observed the portal, this image was a priceless advantage in the game he was playing. Whenever the need arose, he would always have an excuse that would separate him from his otherwise everpresent guards. And everpresent spies.
“No doubt there is a spy who hopes to glean some critical information from me even now.” He thought.
“But that spy is only a Breton. He can’t look past the illusion I play before his eyes. He doesn’t even realize there is an illusion, or any other form of magicka, at play here.”

He smirked and reached for a bottle of perfume. While he was here, he might as well add some truth to the deception.
“Besides, no one said there was a limit on how often an Emperor is allowed to bathe.” His eyes turned from the bath back to the Shiftgate. It had been over half an hour now.
“Hurry up, Aureus. You are an old friend, wed to my only sister even. Yet I can’t make an exception, no matter how much I want to. One hour, it is all the time I can give you.”

Gate to Battlespire.

With a silent howl, a wall of purple flames, pierced with a hail of ice and a storm of lightning, erupted in front of him. Aureus swore as he found his path blocked by the obstacle.
“Well, no one said it would be that easy. First they hide this place in the farthest corner of time, space and the countless planes of existence. And even that is not enough. They have to place a defensive mechanism that can hold back every single army ever to exist, combined. No wonder Dagon needs the help of a Royal Battlemage to break in here. He could never do it on his own.” He noted. He dug his hands in his robe and retrieved a clasp. A golden dragon, with eyes made of rubies, one hand holding a sword and the other a staff. A silver gout of flame shot from its open maw and its wings were spread wide, as if it could take flight at any moment.

Knowing that it came from Tharn, Aureus considered it to be oddly out of place. The Tharn he knew was a man with little use for jewelry and other signs of ‘high-standing’. It wasn’t till he’d taken the place of the Emperor that he’d come to openly flaunt expensive clothes and heavy jewelry. Yet, this was not part of an Emperor’s attire.
“The symbol of a Royal Battlemage. Most people see in it an icon of his office but in reality, it is a key. A key to the place where we are born. Hold it out in front of you and speak my name. None of the Battlespire’s defences shall oppose you then.”

The Imperial held the clasp out in front of him as he’d been instructed.
“I am Jagar Tharn, the Royal Battlemage of Nirn! I demand to be given passage, as is my right granted to me by this symbol! Let me pass and enter!” He spoke. Despite the fact that the vacuum robbed all sound from his voice, the wall heard him and split, revealing an ornate gate of bronze, with a gigantic version of the Battlespire’s dragon engraved into it. The doors opened, revealing a surprisingly mundane room of crude stone. Aureus smiled and stepped inside. Behind him, the doors closed and he assumed that the wall had closed as well.

The only furniture he could see were a few sofas, not fit for a noble yet still comfortable enough to serve a commoner. He was clearly in a waiting room of sorts.
“I’m inside. Now I just need to find the right room, drop off the package and make it back to the Shiftgate on time, unseen. Easier said than done.” He muttered as he moved for the simple wooden door on the other side of the room.

[The Metal Mallet]

Dun dun dun... What is the package? WHAT IS THE PACKAGE!!!?

Erhm... Sorry.

I sense that the package ain't going to be a good thing.

[jack cloudy]

I'll reveal the package, at the right moment. For now though, it's back to the story.
PS: There is a tie-in with one of my other stories. It isn't that subtle.


Cyrodiil

Tharn’s eyes opened slowly. For a moment, they gazed at the ceiling unfocussed. Then, they narrowed and shot to the door. He could hear footsteps, heavy footsteps. His face contorted into a hateful snarl. The sound of metal striking wood as a gauntleted hand rapped its surface.
“I do not wish to be disturbed. Come back later.” The Battlemage said. He reached out with his mind and sensed for the lock. He reconfirmed he’d sealed it and sighed in relief.

The knocking continued.
“This is important, Emperor.” A grating voice called from the other side. Jagar froze and glanced at the Shiftgate. It probably was important, but it could never be more important than what he was trying to do right now. Although, he didn’t recognize the voice. He glanced at the clock. Under half an hour remained.
“If it can wait for half an hour, let it wait.” He said authoratively. The doorbolt lowered and he could hear the door click in its lock. Tharn grit his teeth. He had locked the door, but this lock would not hold.

Making up his mind, he walked to the door and turned the key on his side. Instantly, the door was swung open, only to stop just short of hitting the Imperial Battlemage.
“What?” The Legionnaire on the other side gasped. The rim of the door was covered by a greenish glow. While the man had little experience with magic, he knew that this glow was what had kept him from throwing the door open in its entirety.

Tharn’s eyes lowered to the sword in the Legionnaire’s hand. They then flicked back up to his face.
“Sloppy, that was sloppy. That particular model of uniform has been replaced seven years earlier and even if it wasn’t, no guard would be allowed to wear something in such a poor shape.” He spoke with a voice colder than ice.
“On top of that, I don’t allow beards. And even if I’d ignored all previous points, there is still the matter of your voice being one I don’t recognize.”

The assassin growled and attempted to trust. Tharn’s lips formed a smile devoid of any emotion. Without warning, the blade splintered and turned to dust.
“I don’t fear steel, nor the hand that wields it.” His hand suddenly struck out and hit the false Legionnaire in the chest.
“That’s because I’m not the frail old man you think I am. Stasis Crush.”

Green bands of magicka wrapped around every single joint the man possessed, squeezing, crunching, breaking, grinding. He tried to scream but found that he couldn’t, his jaws having been broken into a fine powder. Tharn turned his back on the quivering wreck which was only held up by the murderous bands.
“In your next life, assassin, stick to the traditional tools. Poison slipped into a goblet of wine, a knife hidden under a bed at night. They would be as succesfull as your current attempt, but I might have granted you my admiration, rather than my disdain.” He noted casually. More footsteps reached his ears and he spun around. But it was too late.

Another Legionnaire, or rather a pair of them this time, had entered the chamber. One of the two turned to the assassin while the other glared at the motionless water in the bath. The latter turned to his companion for a moment and nodded.
“Tharn, release him. We will see to him.” He then said in a tone that would not allow any objections. Tharn simply nodded and the green bands vanished. But the damage had already been done. Even if they saw to him, he doubted there was any healer within the province who could regenerate joints from nothing.

The first Legionnaire hoisted the assassin onto his shoulder and walked off. The bearded man had lost consciousness and his head bobbed up and down like a broken doll at each step. Now only Jagar Tharn and the second Legionnaire remained. The Legionnairre looked at the bath again.
“I sense power coming from that water. Would this be the Shiftgate you described to our master?” The Legionnaire asked. As he did so, he closed the door to the bathroom and turned the key.

Tharn closed his eyes. Both on the outside and on the inside, he was perfectly calm.
“Aureus. Forgive me. I cannot maintain a lie to this monster.” He thought as he reopened his eyes.
“It is.” He simply answered.

The Legionnaire’s form wavered. The silver plate turned to a vile black smeared with crimson. The man’s skin, paled from constant service indoors, blackened to the colour of ash. His blue eyes became raging orbs of red. What was an Imperial of Cyrodiil one moment, was a Dremora from beyond Nirn the next.
“You have betrayed us…Tharn.” The Dremora hissed.

Tharn looked indignant.
“There is something I must retrieve from Battlespire.” He answered calmly.
“You should have asked us, we would have considered retrieving this object for you.” The Dremora stated.
“Garvis, I will be blunt with you. I do not trust those Scamps you keep as servants. They are noisy, clumsy and prone to mischief. If they broke the trinket I desire, I would be angered.” Tharn replied.

Garvis nodded. He understood what the Battlemage meant.
“Your view of them is quite accurate. However, that does not change the fact you opened a Shiftgate before the right moment, without informing us first.” He motioned at the silent pool.
“The servant you sent, he is less important than our goals. Close this Shiftgate. I will personally retrieve this trinket for you when I travel to Battlespire tomorrow.”

Tharn didn’t even blink.
“Yes, he is less important.” He said and with a sweep of his hand, waves returned to the magical water which had now become normal water.
“Has the Shiftgate been closed?” Garvis asked.
“You may. Find out for yourself.”

The Dremora dipped his hand in the water and pulled it back.
“The Shiftgate is no more. Very well, Tharn. What was this trinket you desire?” He grunted.
“The trinket is a golden clasp, shaped like a Dragon. It holds a staff in one claw and a sword in the other. It breathes a flame of silver. The clasp is a symbol of my office, as well as a key. If you wish to enter the Battlespire’s deepest regions, you require this object and you require me to operate it.” Tharn answered.
“Aureus, I am truly sorry. You will have to find your own way out now.”

[minque]

Uhhh.... I've read quite a few stories this afternoon, and it seems as almost all of them are written by you Jackie! Well the only thing I can say is that I'm just so impressed! So impressed

[RavenMind]

Ooh, I'm eager for more!!

[jack cloudy]

I'm still trying to get back up to speed, so another somewhat short update.


Corrupted heart.

Chapter 9: Invasion from beyond the edge of the world.

Battlespire

Aureus thought long and hard, aware of the time that ticked by relentlessly. He had to hurry, but the fortress he was going to infiltrate posed an unique challenge. He had Tharn’s clasp, which kept him safe from the countless traps that lurked below each floorpanel, behind each wall and above each ceiling. But that same Clasp also acted as a beacon. Every person present in the complex, could sense him. At first, they might simply think he was Jagar Tharn, but that wouldn’t last forever.
“Anyone else, and I could have crafted an illusion that would fool their eyes and their mind. But not the Royal Battlemages. Tharn thaught me the art of disguise, and he learned it from them. They know how to create illusions, and how to break them down. I can’t hide, and I probably can’t outrun them either. Perhaps I could outfight them, one on one. But fighting isn’t part of my mission. That only leaves one solution.”

He reached out into the almost solid mass of Magicka that was everywhere. He couldn’t hide, but he wouldn’t need to. The Clasp, and him, caused a significant and unique displacement that could be used to track him. But what if that displacement wasn’t unique? What if there were say, five hundred identical displacements? All moving randomly throughout the Battlespire? It would be a complicated measure to take, one he wouldn’t be able to do normally. But the Battlespire had caught the Magicka of an entire world within its walls. He could use that magicka to power the spell he couldn’t perform with his own internal reserves.

He smiled as his soul picked up the silent roar as the layers of magicka flowed into each other and rearranged themselves into the pattern he needed.
“Go on, I dare you. Try to find me now. One tree within a deep forest.” He whispered and stepped out into the hall. Just to be sure, he moved in an erratic pattern himself. He hoped that the decoys would be so many, that the Battlemages wouldn’t be able to notice that one of the signatures moved with a purpose. He hoped, but hope alone still left a chance for failure. So he weaved, circled and even turned back a few times. He hopped along on one foot, then crawled like a snake. But at all times, his seemingly random choice of direction would steer him to the deepest shadows, where Aureus would be hidden from nonmagical eyes.

This way, he managed to cross the hall and ascend the stairs. Once at the top though, he had to leap behind a pillar as an Orc burst through the door. Aureus only managed to catch a glimpse of the Battlemage before he reached his hiding place, but that was enough. The green-skinned giant was wearing a simple black robe, one without decorations and surprisingly, not enchanted. It was the robe of a Royal Battlemage, not the robe of a student.
“Please, walk passed. Don’t notice me.” Aureus pleaded in silence. Had the Orc caught a glimpse of him as he burst through the door?

“What’s going on here! Tharn, you know I don’t enjoy jokes! I have to prepare for my class tomorrow! It will be their first time in the armoury, and their first time with weapons in their hands! You know how important it is I make sure it is absolutely safe! So stop playing around!” The Orc growled. That gave the Imperial behind the pillar an idea.
“Please forgive me, friend.” He replied while magically altering the sound of his voice into a perfect simulation of Jagar Tharn’s.
“Since I had nothing important on hand for tonight, I thought I’d give the students a test. See if they could find the real me among all the false ones.” He continued and added a theatrical sigh at the end. A smirk grew on his face. Aureus enjoyed his game.
“I suppose I should have informed you first. Perhaps I should just leave?”

He could hear the Orc’s footsteps cease.
“Hrrhmmph. A trial. That’s alright, I suppose. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll just inform our colleagues and then I’ll let loose the little puppies we’re training. Maybe it will give them some teeth!” He grunted and laughed loudly.
“Although, not even I can see the difference between the real signature and the fakes! You’ve always been ruthless, Tharn! I like that! Well then, enjoy the hunt, friend.” With those words, the Royal Battlemage turned on his heels and left the way he came. Aureus waited two precious minutes before slipping through the door.
“All too easy.”

With the professional search for him halted, he could abandon his random wobbling and dash straight to his target. Amused, he realized that the Battlemages would notice the perfectly straight line he was now travelling in. But they would merely assume that it was all part of the trial, that their students had to point out the signature going straight and hunt it down.
“A Battlemage might have caught me. A student with less than a year of training? Not a chance.”