Knights of the Nine - New Kvatch, Attempt at fan-fic Options

[McBadgere]

When I started this fiction, sooo long ago now...Little did I know to what size it would sprawl...Not only in terms of Geography, but the sheer weight of characters and, most espescially, time...So, to help, there are links below to the characters and the timeline my fiction follows...Both of them will help immensely...

Please enjoy!...


Dramatis Personnae



KOTN Timeline


11/02/13
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Original post start


Hey there *Waves*...This is me trying some fan-fic...Having gone through many of your stories, and reading the writing help post I realise I'm going to not update as quickly as I'd hoped...But I am working on something, it's just taking longer than I expected...Like as if it started here and I expected to be like there by now but new characters keep wandering in and needing their own scenes and stuff...Swines!!...

Anyways, in total since about 20 years ago (ie since I left school) I've written maybe three stories, two of which were published in a local writing magazine though...Wha-hey!!...Aaamywho...I've not done much writing...I wish to do more...I've had this thing (A world btw...No I'm not...Y'know...Entirely wrong up there ) in my head for many years I need to get out, so writing Oblivion fan-fic is a start on that road...

Anyways, this is a set up for what's coming, a prequel of sorts that puts many things in place...Sort of a more pleasant info-dump if you will...

Please be gentle... ...

Oh, btw - Elipses...I know there are many...My stories don't have them as much, but my forum posts and probably, therefore, my thinking does...And as most of this is in her head...You get where I'm going...

Cheers...

Oh, and that bit at the end...If at first you don't get it...Persevere...It will make sense...


Sneak.


Oh no...Nonono...Not him. Not them. Son of a Daedroth. Why do they keep doing this? Everywhere I go one of them ruins it all. Damned Knights.

Damn.

Let me start somewhen else.

This is me – mottled, but mostly honey coloured fur with just the right amount of red in it. Just enough to make me just the right amount of bad.

My name is Ras’sheena, I’m a Khajiiti. You can tell by the ears. Oh, and my oh so winning and friendly smile.

Yes Khajiiti means I’m a girl. How can you not tell?. I know this Mithril isn’t that figure hugging but really.

Oh yes...And by the way, I’m very good at my job. Always.

Six years ago.

There’s me, I’m the one with the box on my shoulder. Unloading the ship moored at the Imperial City docks. Most of you will wonder what’s a nice girl like me doing working on the docks? Well, a girl’s got to eat hasn’t she?

We’ve got a nice crew going here. There’s me; (notice the wiggle?...Heh, Naughty you...) And that’s J’Drell the Argonian, he’s big; even for Lizards. (No offence by the way.) Tall, strong. Long limbed, but almost graceful. Fairly new to the docks, just moved here from Anvil he says. Good worker, always talking and laughing.

Over there admiring the view (of me?) is my Mr Right, (Or Mr Right-now at least...Heh, just kidding my Hearth-Kiit. You were always the one...) M’dssark. Beautiful black and grey stripes, muscular. Athletic.

Makes me purr even now.

*Sigh*...

Where was I?

Oh yes...Even the foreman – Gremmand – is good; for an Imperial that is. Short but built like a Dwarf of old - Knows how to work. Which is also good - for an Imperial. As long as we get the job done without breaking or stealing the cargo we can act as we please to make the day go by.

So one day, there we were, just doing our thing when M’dssark gets called over by a Nord. Not sure of his name but I’m sure I’d seen him before.

Then I remembered.

Sometimes when we’d been out at the inn, the Nord would be about and he’d exchange nods with ‘Sark, so I thought nothing of it as they walked off behind the docks wall. Gremmand frowned but I just smiled at him. (Heh, funny how my smiles always work.) Anyway, ‘Sark comes back worried. I went over to him but he just says “Later Mii-Kiit.” (Pet name...Sweet...)

I always remember turning around and catching J’Drell turning his head away.

I never thought, not once.

In bed later...Y’know...After...M’dssark tells me of The Blackwater Brigands.

He’d been working with them for a couple of months, keeping an eye on the best hauls. Feeding them names, dates, crew numbers; you know, stuff a decent Brigand needs.

Oh how much love I had for him at that moment, my very own Pirate! In training to be sure, but still.

Two weeks later he was dead.

They’d convinced him to help them rob The Bloated Float. The Inn that sets out to sea for an added thrill to the drinking - Apparently. Still, it’s berthed at the end of the waterfront.

’M’dssark had heard that damned Bosmer Ormil talking about some treasure on board and let the Blackwater lot know.

*Sigh*...

Little did we know that there would be unexpected company.

’Sark had kissed me goodbye with promise of so much gold on top of the decent lot we already had saved. Enough that we could move away. Maybe to Elsweyr.

Five of them there were against the skeleton crew of the Float. Despite what they would have you believe, it takes more than the two of them to run the damned thing. Anyway, one thing Little-Chief-of-Brigands, Selene, didn’t count on was that damned Argonian.

J’Drell finished them all off - Even my Hearth-Kiit. I know he wouldn’t have made it easy...Good...Damned Lizard.

But still...

Damned Damn...

*Sigh*...

I paced up and down the docks awaiting the triumphant return of King M’dssark, Lord of all Pirates!!. And what I got was J’Drell staring at me as he came up the gangplank.

Oh, the blood on his armour...

He signalled the waiting Legio to take me.

Oh, how I ran.

Seems he was Legio Investigato all along.

Interrogator.

Spy.

Snaffashk more like...No, you don’t want me to translate it.

Damn...



-------------------------------------------------------



Five years ago.

Skingrad.

Oh the irony of the name.

The West Weald Inn isn’t just wall to wall drinking - “We’ve every type of drink available in Tamriel.” (said the banner in the Courier). Oh no. Some of us were hired as hostess girls. We were...Of use.

Well, a girl’s got to eat hasn’t she?

Tall, athletic, apparently a “Pretty-Kitty” so you would all say.

Oh, did I mention I’m very good at my job?...Always...

So there I am...Um, working...When one of my regulars – a Bosmer called Maglir – comes back from a job for his Fighters Guild shaking like a leaf. “I’m not going back there” he wailed. Later, having calmed him down, I asked what had happened. He told me of a cave full of Zombies.

The idea makes me shudder even now...So wrong...Anyway, he said it was just too much for him. Not worth losing his life to do a stupid job like that.

A week or so later into my life walks another giant, this one in almost full Ebony armour; except for the Dwarven helmet - You notice that sort of thing - Anyhow, Maglir told me later he was a Nord called Farn. When this Farn had returned a few hours later with the journal that had been Maglir’s original contract, and offered him the chance to take it in himself, Maglir had told him to do whatever he wanted. “I’ve a wife and kids to think about” he’d said. Later, I’d asked him about that. “No, I haven’t a wife. It always gets the good guys going though.” He’d said, ”Heh...Still, I’ve been thinking about it lately...Do you want to get married?...To me perhaps?”

Oh Oblivion...

I’d said yes - We got married.

We took the money that I’d re-made the...Um...Hard way, and bought a cabin in Bravil. Not the prettiest but it was ours.

Maglir, after a few months of dull grind with the Fighters Guild got a better offer. More money, better weapons.Safer he’d said. The Blackwood Company they called themselves.The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end when he said the name. I explained about M’dssark and the Blackwater, but he’d said I was being silly. ”Nothing to worry about”.

I saw that Nord walking through Bravil one day as I was going to my work in the castle (Maglir had mentioned my natural talents.)

No, not them.

The scouting ones we’d been honing...Um...

Anyways, the Bravil Guard (Yes I know...a girl’s got to eat though.) they needed help in the forest, and had asked me to help that morning.

Farn had looked at me through that helmet. I couldn’t see his eyes, but I knew he was looking at me. I almost ran.

A month later Maglir was called to Blackwater headquarters in Leyawiin. He’d told me to wait for him in Bravil as he wouldn’t be long. But the Guard, they’d asked me to help track a troop of Goblins headed towards Leyawiin - We got them - So I found myself in Leyawiin. I’d asked at an Inn for directions.

I was walking along the street.

It was the noise that got to me.

Heavy, thick, reinforced doors splitting, disintegrating, then crashing into the road. My brilliant, wonderful, funny and happy Maglir. His broken body pinned to what was left of the doors by an Ebony Claymore. Gods only know how hard that had been thrown.

And then, out of the shadows walks Farn.

He looks about at the stunned spectators, daring them to say something...Anything...Oh Gods why couldn’t the Guard do something?

Then...

And then he looks down the road, right at me. He raised his hand and I ran so fast.

I’ve never seen where – or if - my Maglir was buried.

Kynraeth bless him...

Even though I’ve been back there, I’ve never been able to find out from anyone.

Poor Maglir...

I even left the little shack in Bravil...Couldn’t face staying there anymore.

Damned Farn...Damned Nords...

Damn...

So then the “truth” comes out in the Courier about how Blackwood have been using mind-altering drugs (sooo different from using magic to help you fight, of course...) to help them fight and it caused them to do horrible, disgraceful things.

Well, maybe they did kill an entire village to get at some goblins; But still, not my Maglir, surely?.

Oh, and then they make Farn head of the Fighters Guild?

No. Justice. Ever.



---------------------------------------------------------------



So a short while later, the world goes to ruin. The Emperor betrayed by his Dragon Guard. The desperate and doomed flight underground. Oblivion gates all over Tamriel. No-one dared travel for so many weeks. Not with all the Deadra everywhere.

Suddenly out of all the horror came the saviours of everything. We’d all heard the rumours, The Knights of the Nine had returned!!

It sounded so...Amazing.

Truly...

But slowly and surely, they were everywhere. Around the country gates were closed by knights, clad in white tabards, with a red diamond on the chest.

Or something like.

Out of nowhere, one name was suddenly everywhere - Robert McWylde, Commander of the Knights.

Finding a lost heir to the Empire; Closing gates; Thwarting a cult.

A saving the Count of Cheydinhal’s son here, one running into a Gate alone and saving Bruma from a Siege-Engine there.

Damned Mr Perfect...

He’d even gone one-on-one with the Daedric Prince himself...And lived...

Just four of the Knights had gone to the Imperial City with the heir. How quickly would it have ended with more?

Ah, they’re not all Gods...Just...Most of them.

At the end of it all they’d named McWylde Champion of Cyrodill. At the ceremony he’d been all gracious and named all the knights that had helped, saying that they too were deserving of being named Champions as were all the Imperial Legionnaires and City Guardsmen that had sacrificed so much, but sadly he didn’t know their names.

Chancellor Ocato had simply joked “We can’t make enough suits for you all”.

McWylde had accepted the suit, but chose to put it on display at the Priory of the Nine in tribute to everyone rather than abandon his Crusader armour.

Oh and then he got married and the world went crazy...Again...Damned Courier.

Rumour has it that McWylde was Legio Elitarii. The Emperor’s Own they called them; Under the command of no-one but the Emperor (hence the name I suspect.)

Not just the best of the best, but better than that even.

Bet that stung Marick Gellert.

Another rumour is that Gellert was prevented from joining by the Emperor himself for some reason.

Still, Gellert got promoted to Imperial Commander and the Legion’s vaunted Dragon Company got formed out of it all. And while everyone was marvelling at their exploits and grandstanding, the Elitarii were always quietly and efficiently doing their job.

Well...That’s the rumour anyway...

For some reason the Emperor turned McWylde loose to go find the Crusader armour - We’ll probably never know why.

Maybe things were worse than we all thought...Anyhow, the rest is history...

Aren’t biographies great? I hardly ever read them myself.

The First Edition in Imperial City has many good ones...So I’ve been told...

Damn...

Damned damn...



-----------------------------------------------------------------------



Anyway, from then on the Knights of the Nine grew, until they had a Chapter in every city. And then they get their own city.

The Elder Council and all the city rulers and dignitaries - in their mighty wisdom - gave them an old ruined city to rebuild.

New Kvatch it’s called.

Catchy name...Guess where the site of that was?...

Took them ages to clear the ruins and re-do.

Nice job they did too...I must admit...



----------------------------------------------------------------



As for me...

I drifted from city to city, job to job - Always very good at them though. I had an incident with a despicable, horrible man in Skingrad (again, guess where I worked...Very good...) called Glarthir which led to some odd man called Lucien coming into my room to offer me a job - Well, a girl’s got to eat hasn’t she? - So off I run to an Inn of Ill Omen...(A little on the nose, but who am I to question?)...I kill some strange little man who I have no idea about; then I meet up with the Lucien who tells me of a house to go to in Cheydinhal.

When I get there, I discover that it’s all going on downstairs.

No, I mean...Nevermind...

Through a portal in the cellar, expecting some sort of greet, what do I find? - Everyone’s dead. Except for a little Wood-Elf, in a Knights cuirass. ”Hello,” he says, “I’m afraid they’re closed for business.” He narrowed his eyes “Best run along...Now.”

I ran...

Lucien turned up dead in Skingrad - Thrown out of a window into the street. Not getting up with his neck bent that way...Or that axe in his head.

Bosmer lady Knight this time.

I ran...

*Sigh*



---------------------------------------------------------------------------



Two years ago...

By now I was living in Anvil, helping out on the docks. Not as much fun as before but – you know – A girl has got to eat.

One day a man called Jayred Grice turns up at my door. A handsome older man, (so far as I’m a judge), whitening hair, intelligent eyes, Fantastic smile. Spoke with a drawl, like honey.

He was an ex-Dragon Company officer that had, with a “silent partner”, just started a new honest mercenary company called - Wait for it - The Dragon Company.

They were trying to reclaim his and his Company’s honour he’d said. Amongst those he’d recruited were a couple of ex-Bravil Guardsmen who had told him of me and my astounding scouting abilities - See, very good. Anyhow, he’s been trying to get his company off the ground; try to take some of the work that the Fighters Guild and even the Knights have been flooded with since the Crisis.

It was not going well.

Too much bad feeling attached to the name it seems; even if it had been proved that not all the Dragon Company had had anything to do with betraying the Emperor.

The Investigato had proved Jayred and some of his co-horts innocent.

But Grice was not for changing it, said he would succeed even if it killed him.

”Besides,” he’d said, smiling, “It’d cost too much to change the armour.”

A dragon - shockingly - rendered as if flying to the left but its tail curled around to form the outside of the G.

Very clever I must say.

Sign of a man with too much time on his hands maybe.

But I digress...

After a few months it was obvious that it wasn’t working and Grice was sullen, which was an mood I’d never thought to see on that man.

To try and help him up I...Offered myself to him.

My most figure hugging dress...You know how it goes...

”Bless you ‘Sheena,” he’d said smiling – finally! ”You do flatter an old soldier...But we can’t.”

My heart sank.

”Oh no...” He added, seeing the look on my face, “Nono; I think you’re beautiful...I really am flattered. But for one I am still your boss, and for another...My...Partner doesn’t hold with...” Jayred paused, wincing “with other...Species...

“I’m so sorry ‘Sheena...”

I saw apology, regret and shame in his eyes, and I believed his apology, absolutely.

To try and diffuse the...Tension...He started to tell of something he’d been thinking about.

“I’ve been thinking of moving the business...Elsewhere.” He’d looked me straight in the eye before he said, ”Elsweyr...”

Oh how my heart had leapt!!

Grice was basically planning a Fighters Guild style group but in Elsweyr.

”Seems it might work better there,” he said, “as they don’t seem to care who we were...”

I was to be in charge of the teams!!

Grice was coming too but I was his...Liaison?...Strange word, but basically I was to be the one that looked after the troops, report back to Jayred, and all the while still handling the big jobs that needed my help.

I was to be a busy-Kitty again!

We got rich!

We made so much money even the lowest ranks were well-off. Who’d have thought that a country with such tension would need such help.

But who am I to complain...

Grice would hold feasts for the troops to celebrate.

Usually, after the drink had flowed, he’d tell us all stories of the Glory Days of the old Dragon Company and Marrick Gellert.

One night I remember with a shudder was when one young boy (Damain, his name was) asks with total innocence,

“Was there anything that Gellert was actually afraid of?”

A jeering and laughing clamour had erupted around the tables. But Grice had smiled genuine warmth towards the boy.

“Yes son, he was afraid of only two things in his life...” He’d paused, ”Robert McWylde and Farn Olfsson. If you ever get on the wrong side of either of them...Run...Just run...”

He then told us the story of when on patrol, Gellert, himself and two more had managed to let themselves get ambushed by Ogres - The crowd had laughed.

”Yes I know, not the stealthiest of creatures, but there you go. So here we are, fighting for our lives against the damned things, and even that Dragon-hammer’s hardly denting them.

"All of a sudden one of them falls flat on their face...Well, with a warhorse landing on their head you’d think it wouldn’t have a choice.

"Farn..."Grice paused and looked those closest to the front in the eyes, "Looking at him I couldn’t decide which to be more scared of - Him or the Ogres.” Grice smiled; more laughing, “He took it all in in a second, jumped off his horse – which promptly took on another Ogre itself – ripped the hammer from Marrick’s hands and hurled it at the nearest Ogre.The hammer took its head off. I think the two that were left after the horse’d trampled the one he’d been hammering must’ve realised what was coming and tried to escape." Grice shook his head at the memory, "Anyone ever heard an Ogre scream?..I don’t think many have...

”Once it was all over Gellert had tried to thank Farn for his help. The Nord had simply stared at him, got on his horse and left. Marrick was ill for a couple of weeks following that. We covered for him, but the three of us who’d been with him thought we understood what had happened - Gellert wasn’t as all powerful as he’d believed himself...Seen quite how human he actually was...

"Mind you against Farn I think anyone’d doubt himself...So yes, Gellert was afraid of something...”

“What about McWylde?” Damain had asked.

Jayred smiled and simply said - “Next time...”



------------------------------------------------------------------------



A month ago...

We found the damned things in a cave outside Corinthe.

The cave had seemed unremarkable, but someone had pulled the entrance down leaving just the hole in the mountain to say it had been there.

Farian, our Battlemage had been sure there was something inside, so we took the time to clear and prop and boslter.

Wish we’d not bothered.

As soon as we get inside, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Three of these things are in there. They made straight for Farian. He’d tried to defend himself but the first one got to him; And then the world went mad again.

The creature had simply put his giant hands either side of Farian’s head. The mage had screamed briefly, then just stopped.

Then out of his mouth came words, but not his...Sounded so strange...

“Nnn...No...No Hurt...Feed...Please...Alone...Long...”

“What do you need?” I’d asked terrified of the answer.

Well, then the damned thing’s mouth opens up and a ball of light comes out.

Next thing there a boar standing in the middle of the room - So I guess it eats boar, not people - We fed them, they let Farian go, and we go back to base with the promise to return having sealed the cave up.

Back there we tell Grice of the monsters.

Damain turns out to be a bookworm and does some research.

Couple of days later he comes back with an answer, ”Could it be these?” he’d asked, pointing to a pict in the book.

Oh Oblivion...I won’t say the name...

Even the name scares me...

But they’re so old...I thought they were all gone...

“We need them,” says Grice, suddenly vicious, ”My partner will want one too...Hope they don’t get separation stress...”

“We need to ask them first...” I’d said...”I don’t think we’d be able to make them do anything.”

Damain coughed, “It says here that to deal with...” He’d gestured to mean the whole world “Everyone else...they always need...The One...To be the focus...Which I think means what they did to Farian...I think...He has to be a mage...”

Damn.

Damned Damn...

Prisoners.

Grice was actually more vicious than I’d thought.

We’d raided a fort nearby a few days ago and taken a few of the Conjurors alive. He’d given them all a choice - help us, or be turned over to the tribes for punishment. Most chose to help, but we only needed the three.

So the “lucky” few were put on a cart and taken to the cave.

I couldn’t watch.

When it was all over, Grice – who’d come with us – Talked to the creatures.

“Why were you in here?”

“People...Feared...Pull...Down...Wrong...No Hurt...”

“Will you help us? We know what you can do.”

“Do Not...No Hurt...Yes Can Help...No Hurt...”

Grice had paused, admiring the creatures; possibly wondering how to phrase the next part, “We need to send one of you away...Somewhere far...Can we do that?”

“All Places One...We All Places Together...Far...Near...All One...We Hear...Yes...Send...”

And just like that, we had three ancient, presumed extinct creatures working with us.

Jayred had sent a message back to Cyrodill, telling of the prize.

A couple of weeks later the message returned that the “Partner” was as excited as Grice and that transport should start straight away.

Guess who was given that job?

Oh yes...Me...The curse of being very good I suppose.

I was given the location to head for with instructions to meet the local party near Anvil.

Oh it was going to be strange going back there after so long, but it was only for a short while.

“Two things,” Grice had said to me before a couple of days before I’d left, “Leave the uniform behind...No, I didn’t mean that...” He’d smiled,” I mean you can’t have anything linking to us if...Anything happened...Gods forbid...Oh, and the other thing...My partner’s people may not be so...Courteous towards you...Just ignore them...Ignorant fools...”

He’d given me a kiss on the cheek and after that didn’t see him before I left.



----------------------------------------------------------------



Now...

Damn.

Damned Damn...

We’re here.

Fort Freedom.

We avoided everyone and everything getting here, and what do we find when we get to the gates off the road?

Nothing.

No-one.

The local Captain that met us was worried as there should be at least a couple of guards here.

He’d suggested so politely that myself and a couple of the other scouts go ahead to check around the fort to see what could have gone wrong.

Well I’ll tell you what went wrong...

Damnable Knights, that’s what.

Why in Oblivion are they here?

Who is this damned partner?

I found their horses in the woods around the side of the fort, guarded by a Dunmer and one of those damned Wraiths they can call.

I couldn’t get close to the Dunmer without alerting the Wraith, so I headed for the fort itself.

Damn...

The ever feted J’Drell.

Judging by the amount of horses, there’s more inside...

What is he doing?...

Why is he moving like that?...

I’ve seen stealthier Mudcrabs...

What the?...

What’s that?...

I think they’ve found one of the others...

Damn...

I must get back to the rest...What?...Aaaah!...

Oh, no!!...

Damn...

Damn damn!!...

Gods not like this...

Not here...

I stand up from an oh so pretty body...With a dagger through its neck...we were once an I, a person...Now we don’t remember her name...Now we don‘t remember I...The Great Pride calls us...We are all the Great Pride...The Greatest One calls me to run...

I run...

This post has been edited by McBadgere: Sep 17 2013, 01:40 PM

[treydog]

Wow. Um- let me see if I can be more articulate than that- give me a minute....

Welcome to the Arena!

The voice- the telegraphic pace- the HEART of this... just bowl me over. Yes- fine, one who KNOWS the Oblvion plot will get more out of it. And so what? Look at the vast majority of fan-fics posted here.

This story just grabbed ahold of me and did not let go- I feel as though I have run from Anvil to Cheydinhaal.

And the best part of all- "heroes" aren't heroes to everyone... all depends on where you are standing.

Minor grammatical (hey former teacher of English- what can I say?) nit-
check your use of "it's." The correct place for that is the contraction of "it is." As in "It's a long, long way to Tipperary." For the possessive- no apostrophe "The thrice-damned will'o'wisp held its ground."

Most places you have it right- two I saw otherwise were describing the Dragon Company symbol and near the end.

[McBadgere]

...Wow...Thank you so much...An update is coming as soon as I get round to editing the next section, but I had to say thank you...Appreciated...

Oh, btw...Nit-pick away!...Grammar was never my strong point...Or punctuation...Or spelling...Or actual story content... ...

Think I got the ones you said about...Cheers...

This post has been edited by McBadgere: Oct 25 2011, 06:09 AM

[mALX]

Absolutely loved your rapid-fire narrative style of writing in the beginning - slips in the funniest lines so quickly they can almost be missed - almost, lol.

Ras’sheena ending up Maglir's wife was hysterically funny, but sad at the end.

First off, I love the recurring line, "A girl has got to eat" - and the job history that goes along with it !!

Second - absolutely love how you reshape history of the quests in this! I was rolling on the floor laughing over the Dark Brotherhood changes - especially Lucien's fate !!

Now enters The Dragon Company - great name !!


... .... ... URK !!! Did Ras’sheena die? ARGH !!!


Great Write !!! A little fast, and at over 3800 words - a little long. Still, a Great Write !!!

[Grits]

Oh wow is right. I love your story already. I think I get the bit at the end. But I’ll have to wait and see. I am really looking forward to more!!

[McBadgere]

Thank you both very much...I appreciate that it's long and I thank you for taking the time to read it all...Many thanks... ...

And now...This...



Knights Of The Nine – New Kvatch:

Vol. 1. - Dawn At The End Of The Knight.

1.1 Capture.



"I do not know why I have no trust for the man. He has never given me pause to think his devotion is anything but absolute. He has done all that I ask, more than I have asked time and again. So why do I feel he will be the death of me?

Damnation Gellert, what are you about? And where the hell is McWylde when I need him?"

- Taken from the diaries of Uriel Septim, discovered by Wulff Olfsson in the remains of Cloud Ruler Temple, Rain’s Hand 3E 637.



‘It really was a beautiful weapon,’ thought Caroline McWylde as the Imperial Dragon Warhammer came down slowly - it seemed - a finger’s width from her head. She noted the fine relief worked dragon motifs that seemed bathed in fire from the reflected wall-lamps playing along the length of the slab of Nordic Dragon-smelted Iron that made up the head. She marvelled at the gold-leaf work down the length of the hammer’s Carpacite shaft, so ornate and finely worked that even now – despite the action that she’d seen herself, fighting beside the man opposite all those years ago, nevermind what other work it’d been through since – it showed no sign of wearing. She was even now amazed by the length of Dragon bone that had been magically bonded to the shaft and had then been carved to perfectly fit the grip of Imperial Commander Marrick Gellert - as he’d been then at least – Hero of the Empire, Champion of and to the Imperial Legion, now just another fugitive Marauder, this one operating out of Fort Freedom, an hour’s hard ride south-west of Kvatch.

She’d called on the speed fortifier. Her normally green eyes shining white from the use of Magic, Caroline rushed inside the reach of the hammer. Gellert didn’t have time to blink as Caroline brought her Ebony booted foot up and into her former Commander’s knee, folding it back the wrong way. The scream died in his throat as the breath was knocked from his lungs by the flat of the Ebony longsword coming down across his back and sending him sprawling onto his face.

“The trouble with fighting someone you know so well,” said Caroline, “Is having to wait for that one mistake. But you always did manage to make one mistake, didn’t you?

“Alix killed Derment and left me alive down there. The safest place I could have been it seems. One mistake.”

She smiled to herself as she caught her breath, but then called the magicks, raised her strength and picked up the Warhammer. She walked over to where he lay and leaned down near his ear, “This,” she spat, “was a gift to the best. That has not been you for such a long time.” Caroline hurled it at the other side of the room, shattering a stone block. “WHY?!!” She screamed at his prone body, “DAMN YOU!!” She roughly turned him over and dragged him to sit against a wall. “So, you betray everything and everyone for a chance at what? The Emperor gives you it all, money, fame...His absolute trust...And you let Mythic Dawn in?” She looked down at the floor as she refused to let him see her eyes filling with tears. “And then what? With the Emperor and – apparently - all his heirs dead, the Dragon Company’s mighty Hero rules from the Dragon Throne and makes everything all better?” She laughed grimly, “Did you really believe that Mehrunes Dagon would simply give you Tamriel to rule? Alone? He was determined to turn the world into another realm of Oblivion for The Gods’ sake. Or were you thinking you could use your charms on a Demon Prince? Maybe get him to leave it all as it was, just for you?” She backed away to sit on a nearby crate.

“Well,” came the former Imperial’s reply, “He was certainly more receptive to ideas than you ever were.” She looked away with a wince.

“Oh, you always were soo idealistic and naive weren’t you Caroline? Always willing to believe that we were a perfect band of Legion brothers, and that the whole of Cyrodill was a perfect little utopia, where everyone and everything could live in peace, happiness and contentment, watched over by our great and benevolent father – The Emperor.” Gellert sneered at her. “And now your pathetic beliefs in the weak are on show for all to see.”

Gellert raised a hand as if to indicate the Knights of the Nine cuirass. Caroline realised his intent too late, and that even now part of her was far too trusting where this evil creature was concerned. Seemingly without conscious thought she raised her lightning shield magicks and closed her eyes expecting nothing but to be thrown across the room. Wincing - despite herself - at the noise as the shock-spell went wide. She heard the Marauder cry out, in obvious agony. Re-opening her eyes quickly, she saw Gellert holding his now bleeding arm in shock at the dagger handle now protruding from it.

“Really Caroline, your husband would be most cross with me if he thought I’d let you fall for that old trick.” Said a voice from the doorway to her right. She noticed the green afterglow of the Wood-Elf’s powerful Invisible spell’s premature end still fading.

“Galasafon!” she cried, “What? But I didn’t know you were with us.” Caroline paused, frowned and asked sighing, “Did he ask you to follow me?”

“Well...Maybe...Yes, he did...But the Commander knew – Akatosh damn him – that I had my own reason to follow and...Protect.”

Caroline nodded her thanks to her friend and turned to look on her would-be murderer. She took a step towards Gellert, putting her hand on the pommel of her sword.

“Careful Wylding. That,” he pointed to the sword, “would be murder.” Galasafon quietly said, “Do not become like that...” Indicating the prone Marauder.

“Soo,” Gellert said with obvious discomfort, “Still dragging your little pets with you?..Where’s that little Eldarb*tch you were never far away from?”

The man cried out loudly but briefly as Galasafon non-too-gently retrieved his knife.

“Oh dear,” the Wood-Elf observed “Seems to have fallen asleep...Still, it will give him a nice surprise when he wakes in the Kvatch gaol.”

“You can keep him asleep till then?.”

The Wood-Elf gave her a dark look. “Oh yes...”

Another Knight rushed into the room, her eyes glowing purple with the life sensing magic. “Caroline we...GAH!!...” The Wood-Elf Aeirawen started as she noticed Galasafon standing beside the body. “How in Oblivion can you hide from...Nevermind,” pointing at Gellert she said, “We must move him...Now...More of his cohorts are returning, and I fear that even Thedret and J’Drell will be overwhelmed.”

Aeirawen turned a loving look on Galasafon and then was gone.

Caroline once more looked down at the man who’d once given her so much hope for the Empire and then betrayed it so completely. She pointed at Gellert then walked out simply saying, “Bring that...”...

Galasafon, noticing a glint from the other side of the room, went over to the far wall.

“What a beautiful weapon...” He noted, picking the Dragon Warhammer up with one hand. He walked towards the door, waved his other hand in the direction of former Imperial Commander Marrick Gellert and levitated the unconscious body out of the bowels Fort Freedom and up towards the dawn...

This post has been edited by McBadgere: Oct 27 2011, 06:21 AM

[mALX]

Now you're talking !! WHEW !!! This is AWESOME !! And gives us an intriguing glimpse into your creative mind and abilities !! MORE MORE !!! Awesome Write !!!

[Acadian]

’Bosmer lady Knight this time...’
Really have to watch out for those Bosmer lady knights.

Welcome to the forums and glad to see you posting your story here! Your style is brisk, crisp and fun to read.

[McBadgere]

Cheers muchly!!... ...

mALX - Cheers and probably best you don't get more than a glimpse into that mind... ...

And Acadian - Cheers for the welcome...I was just playing Aeirawen (The BLK) in the real world...She does like her axes!)...

Been having issues with Ibuprofen for a sprained wrist...Who giggled?...Who giggled!!!?...It was a "Tractor Accident"...No, I mean a tractor accident which jarred it last week, and the Ibuprofen has been playing havoc with me getting up...STOP GIGGLING!!!...I mean waking up in a morning...The delicate little flower that I am...So updates will be a week apart probably...

Probably... ...

[Athynae]

Oh McB I would not laugh at your pain (snigger), I know all too well the gentle constitution of the male of the species, I do have two sons....and have fired two husbands. So it is understandable.

Your story is going well thus far, it took me a second read to accustom myself to the style but I LIKE IT. Keep em coming

[treydog]

was a "Tractor Accident"...No, I mean a tractor accident which jarred it last week

As long as you did not say "HEY! Watch this!" just before it happened, it is OK.

(If you need an explanation, apply to Athynae, mALX, or Grits).


[Will comment on story this evening.]

[mALX]

SPEW!! "Tractor Accident," huh? (choke, giggle) Er...where you wearing anything particular at the time? Seriously, hope you get feeling better soon.

This post has been edited by mALX: Oct 27 2011, 06:44 PM

[Grits]

My sympathies on your *cough* "Tractor Accident." (Never heard it called that before...) No, really. I hope your wrist feels better soon.

[McBadgere]

Just to clarify before we all get into trouble for being just a smidge off topic...Should have called it Tractor Incident...

Being as brief as I can...

Boss ploughed field (I work on a farm...You may have guessed this already...), I then work field with thing called a harrow which breaks up ploughed furrows...Ploughing is done up and down field, but the ends go in opposite direction which leaves big wavey things and dips in the corners between...Basically there was an incident where the tractor wheel went down one of these corner dips while the steering wheel was turned, and as I was holding it quite firmly...Stop it...The steering wrenched around and sprained my wrist...Much swelling and grinding and mui painkilling drugs!!...Have stopped now though...Back to story...

Many thanks for the sympathy...*Bows*...

[mALX]

Just to clarify before we all get into trouble for being just a smidge off topic...Should have called it Tractor Incident...

Being as brief as I can...

Boss ploughed field (I work on a farm...You may have guessed this already...), I then work field with thing called a harrow which breaks up ploughed furrows...Ploughing is done up and down field, but the ends go in opposite direction which leaves big wavey things and dips in the corners between...Basically there was an incident where the tractor wheel went down one of these corner dips while the steering wheel was turned, and as I was holding it quite firmly...Stop it...The steering wrenched around and sprained my wrist...Much swelling and grinding and mui painkilling drugs!!...Have stopped now though...Back to story...

Many thanks for the sympathy...*Bows*...

URK! Sorry for your injury! Hope you get feeling better soon!

[McBadgere]

I apologise if my previous post sounded kinda short...Therein is proof of why you shoudn't rush post last thing at night... ...

Honest, more story coming soon... ...

[McBadgere]

New parts for you!!!... ...

If I've missed anything, please be gentle... ...

The clocks went back in the UK last night, but I'm not allowed the hour extra in bed, due to my...SnassnFrassn...Work...Bloody doing a favour for the boss... ...Aaamywho, it's currently saying 3.30am on the BBC News channel...*Winces*...

Heh... ...D'you know, I've never really noticed what such an old woman I am...Always complaining... ...

Anyhow...

This...



1.2 - Outside.



FAO Meister Modryn Oreyn,
Fighters Guild-Hall,
Chorrol.

Dear Meister Oreyn,

It is with regret that I must inform you that we have to expel your nephew from the University.

He is a bright, hard working, ever charming and brilliant student. I have nothing but praise for him as a person, and wish him nothing but the best for his future.

However he is undiscipline-able. That is to say. He is not able to stay within the magical discipline that is presented to him. And everything he does in class causes considerable chaos and consternation.

Also, despite all attempts at removal, his “Uncles” continue to be an absolute distraction to all the University’s residents. Especially in the dormitories. The other students have been terrified to wake up to one or the other hanging over them. This is unacceptable.

I regret that this action must be taken, and I shall send whatever aid I can through Archmagister Teekeeus at the Chorrol chapter of the Mages Guild. But it is for the best of the University and its students.

Again, kind regards towards Kelleryn, your good self and your Guild-Master.


Yours regretfully, Hannibal Traven (Archmage).




The recently be-knighted Kelleryn Oreyn retrieved the dagger from the Khajiiti, and offered a prayer to commend her soul to The Nine. Wiping the blood on the dewy grass, Kelleryn looked up at the two moons fading in pre-dawn light. Reciting the names of both in all the languages of Tamriel, and briefly listing the names of the mare to be seen on them, he then looked to the east to try and gauge the hour...

“Well, not long and we won’t have the luxury of darkness to cover us.” He turned to his Ancestor Guardian, “I do hope Knight-Marshal McWylde snares her quarry soon.” Then, indicating the kill he said, “We should go and report this to Knight-Marshal J’Drell.” With that, he gestured for the ghost to follow towards the Fort’s main entrance where he knew the Marshal was crouching behind the forewall.

Kelleryn moved swiftly but as stealthily as was possible - for him - towards the fort. He paused behind the trees which lined the broad entrance causeway. The Elf then looked back towards the arch, where the causeway met the main road from Anvil, and saw the massed group there.

“Oh...” he started.

“Careful,“ said a voice by his ear, “you wouldn’t want us telling your Uncle Modryn that you’d picked up our colourful language now, would you?”

Spinning around, Kelleryn instantly had his staff in one hand and his Ebony shortsword in the other.

“C’mon kid, I’d have had time to make breakfast while you were spinning,” said a Redguard knight, now a short way off.

“Sir Deaconsson!” Kelleryn exclaimed in a forceful whisper. The ghost moaned his disapproval.

“No names dammit!” the knight came back. “No names while we’re out here, and while I get that he – for some reason – won’t disappear,” the knight pointed to the ghost, “can you try and send him off a little so we don’t have a big light saying ‘here we are’ following us?”

The Ancestor told Kelleryn what he thought of that.

“Yes, well...Sir Deaconsson may have a point Honoured Uncle...Please could you go and see if Uncle is okay with the horses”. The ghost moaned and pointed at Sir Deaconsson then sped off through the trees in the direction of the horses.

“You mean to say that the Wraith is called Uncle too?” asked the Redguard.

“Yes, the wraith is called Uncle”

“How does that not get confusing?”

“What do you mean?” asked Kelleryn.

“Isn’t the ghost called Uncle too?”

“No,” replied the Dark-Elf, “He’s called Honoured Uncle.”

Sir Deaconsson regarded the Elf. Average height, passably strong – if a little thin - body, blue-black hair framing a face with pleasant features possessed of a natural tendency towards smiling...Occasional sadness in his eyes maybe. He’d only met Kelleryn late afternoon yesterday, but Deaconsson could tell already that the Elf’s magic was strong. He seemed to be conjuring something constantly, possibly even unconsciously. Even now he could see the light escaping from his mostly closed hand. And as for how in The Nine’s name the kid could keep the Guardian and the Wraith alive at the same time and over these distances was beyond the Redguard.

“Riiiight,” replied Sir Deaconsson, “C’mon, they’ll be waiting.”

They crossed the remaining distance quickly and joined J’Drell behind the wall.

“Ooooh,” said the silver-blue Argonian J’Drell “Bless-ed are we to be joined by our newest friend. What brought you from your appointed task little Elfling?”

“Knight-Marshal, Honoured Uncle saw a Khajiiti scouting out the horses, so we followed her. She was about to...Leave...When I had to stop her.”

“Yeesss, I saw,” The big Argonian replied “I had been...Distracting the three of them for a while...To aid your quests.”

“Three?” Asked Kelleryn.

“Yeesss, yours – good job by the way, nice throw...Yeesss...Praise be to your tutors newest Knight-friend...Oooh, and young Deaconsson there took care of his – not unsurprisingly – and then there’s Friend Sir Thedret who will be joining us from over there on the left,” The Argonian’s eyes shone like a mirror and he put his head over the wall, “any time...Now...”

There was the briefest whisper and a knight slowed to a stop and crouched behind the wall.

“Dammit, he put a hole in my best chainmail...”

“Ooooh...Are you wounded much?” The Argonian asked.

“Just a little. Lucky swipe is all. I’ll live though.”

“Oh well,” said the Argonian, “Shame. I’d best move my stuff out of your house again then. Your wife will be disappointed. She does so love my baubles.” He grinned.

As J’Drell finished this taunt and Thedret had mock-glared at him, the Argonian placed his glowing hand to Thedret’s side to check his wound.

“Damn,” J’Drell sighed, his fins drooping, “easy enough to heal...You’ll feel nothing soon...Oh well...Nevermind...Bless-ed are you...”

Thedret smiled his thanks to his friend and resumed his look out.

Kelleryn took in his surroundings. He found himself considering the horses...Being watched by a ghost and a wraith seemed to put most anyone in an agitated way, let alone a horse. Still, the Knights’ horses could probably deal with pretty much anything.

He smiled to himself as he thought of his company. Sat here right now were two of the most celebrated Knights of The Nine. J’Drell and Thedret.

Sir James Thedret had been one of the original knights that had been at the reformation of the Knights during the Chapel Murders saga. Sir Thedret's list of accomplishments since were a book in themselves. But he had sealed his immortality with being one of the four Knights of The Nine that had accompanied Martin Septim and his Blades to the Imperial City to battle with Mehrunes Dagon.

J’Drell had been one of those that joined soon after the Ayleid king had been dealt with, but soon he too proved a worthy addition when The Oblivion saga had reared its head. He’d read that J’Drell was one of only three Knights that had faced an Oblivion Gate alone. The village he rescued had now affectionately nicknamed itself “Drell’s Gate” in his honour. He was also one of the four with Martin. And then there was his hunt and the trials for the damned Dragon Company after it was all done.

Thedret and J’Drell. J’Drell and Thedret. Their names always linked together. Now sat here bickering as only two old friends can.

Add these two to the other members of the party, which included the wife of the Knights’ Commander – A Knight-Marshal in her own right – Then there’s Knight-Marshal Aeirawen who together with Marshal Galasafon had hunted the Dark Brotherhood seemingly to extinction.

He’d been told by Deaconsson that out there somewhere were two others, a Captain Marcus Jarn and General Carodus Oholin, chief of the Knights Shadow, and another of the original reformation Knights. There was also a legendary Nord General, two Captains that were slowly growing in fame, Deaconsson here who was headed straight towards the Knights Shadow himself and three other knights that he hadn’t really had time to meet properly, but was sure their worthiness was of no doubt.

“I hope I’m not speaking out of turn Sirs...” Said Kelleryn.

Deaconsson rolled his eyes and said “Which means you probably are...”

“But still, may I ask something?” enquired the Elf.

“Oooh, so many questions!..Excellent, I do so love a puzzle game...” Answered J’Drell. “Please, continue my young new friend.”

“Aren’t we risking a lot of...” He hesitated, “Seniority for a fugitive capture? Surely one of the Captains’ companies could do it just as well?”

“Ooooh, Sir Thedret, heh, he just called you old...”

“Drell, he said senior...As in rank...Not the same...Right kid?..” Thedret narrowed his eyes, “Right?...”

“Yes...I mean no...Um...” He paused, ”Sirs, we have two Generals, four Knights-Marshal, three Captains and five ‘mere’ Knights...I believe that would be very senior people for just a grab?”

“Blessed am I to be amongst all these glitterati!! Where are they youngster? I only see Knights wishing to finish work that was begun many years ago,” Seriously J’Drell said, “There has been much labour and toil and death to get where we are sat here and now. We Must. Not. Fail. That is why we risk this much for that. Do you know who is in there youngster?” He spat and indicated the fort.

Kelleryn shook his head, “I was only asked to accompany by Marshal McWylde, she never said why.”

“He and his let the Mythic Dawn into the Imperial Palace. That’s him in there Oreyn...That’s Gellert!!...He personally murdered Blades, servants and worse – the youngest of the Emperor’s sons had run to him for protection. The b*stard just ran him through.” J’Drell looked sadly toward the ground. “That is why we risk so much.”

J’Drell wrinkled his nose in disgust but then calmed.

“However all this does get old Thedret here some much needed exercise. He was in danger of needing a new size of armour!”

This post has been edited by McBadgere: Oct 30 2011, 01:07 PM

[treydog]

I usually have a lot more to say, what with being so in love with the sound of my own voice (keyboard?), but… This story just bowls me over. The characterization is wonderful, as is the action; the sense of history- individual and world; and the depth of feeling.

Oh the letter from Hannibal is simply priceless. Sounds like Kelleryn and a certain albino Khajiit would have gotten along like naptha and a torch….

The entire section with the Ancestor Guardians and their (completely not confusing to anyone) names was beautiful. That is the kind of character-specific world-building that makes a story sing.

“Ooooh...Are you wounded much?” The Argonian asked.

“Just a little. Lucky swipe is all. I’ll live though.”

“Oh well,” said the Argonian, “Shame. I’d best move my stuff out of your house again then. Your wife will be disappointed. She does so love my baubles.” He grinned.

And then--- the banter above. Brilliant.

Followed in perfect narrative sequence with the dark reason behind the Knights’ mission to that place.

Nits:

“…dewey grass…” I believe you want “dewy”- otherwise it is a type of grass named for someone whose goes by “Dewey.”

“two moons’…” Not a possessive here, so no apostrophe.

“Reciting the names in all languages of both…” As written, sounds like the languages are those of the moons… Suggest- “Reciting the names of both in all languages….”

OH- and I simply LOVE the idea of a “mare” in the moons- especially given the (intentional?) pun on the "real" moon's features….

[McBadgere]

Done!...Cheers... ...

Word kept telling me that dewey was wrong but it didn't look right the other way...So I left it...Duh... ...

Two moons' apostrophe ( ) was left behind from a previous sentence, I missed it in the edit...

It is meant to be (as in pronounced) mar-eh as in the "seas" on our moon...But I don't know how to do the accent thingy on the end of it...I know there's a way...But it's probably technical...And I can push these buttons to make the nice word-y thingies come out...Pretty much my level really... ...

Glad you liked the rest too...Much appreciated...

[King Coin]

I read through the first chapter and I enjoyed it for the most part, but I found it difficult to follow what was going on at times.

I do like how our Khajiit always seemed to find herself on the wrong end of the quests we all do in the game. I'm glad she wasn't in the DB for very long, I have a hard time liking murderers.