Cyrodiil Options

[Alexander]

Ok, so for the unavoidable introduction babble, as most of you know I was rather pleased with Morrowind. I thought it was far better then the dribble I wrote prior to that, and most people seemed to agree with me. After I finished Morrowind I already had an idea for a sequel, I actually wrote the very first chapter of said sequel while I was posting up parts of Morrowind. Unfortunately though, after that first chapter I kind of lost interest. I didn’t think the ideas I had back then were enough to weave an entire story together, and I was probably right.

But as these things have a habit of developing themselves, over the past months I kept thinking back to the sequel, and kept adding ideas to the pile I already had. Now it’s done. I once again enjoyed writing this, and I hope you’ll have similar fun reading it.

As I’ve explained in the past, I’m not very good at making up things like titles, Akatosh knows it took me about as long to come up with the various titles of the chapters as it did to write the entire thing, so I’ve named the story “Cyrodiil” (catchy wot? )

Before I end my babbling and get on with posting the story, I once again would like to thank Treydog for agreeing to help with my story as editor, and for fixing the many, many, many grammatical and spelling errors, and placing every comma, semicolon and whatchamacallit in the correct place. And thanks to everyone who ever read Morrowind, and commented. I really enjoy the comments.


Now, while you don’t have to have read Morrowind, I believe in order to get the most out of Cyrodiil, it would be recommended.


So, enough babbling and on to Cyrodiil.

[Alexander]

Chapter 1. The end? Or the beginning?


Cyrodiil, the Imperial City, Elder Council chambers.

Varvur walked into the council chambers, just one step ahead of Martin, Jauffre and Baurus. He spotted Chancellor Ocato and walked right up to him. He was about to speak, but the chancellor cut him off; “I’ve been expecting you; the full council has already considered the matter of Martin’s claim to the throne in detail.”

With that said, Ocato walked up to Martin Septim, knelt down and spoke “Martin Septim, on behalf of the Elder Council I accept your claim to the Imperial throne.“

Varvur smiled at hearing those words, but his smile quickly faded when a messenger barged into the council chambers.

“Chancellor Ocato, Chancellor Ocato, the city is under attack! Oblivion gates have opened and Daedra are inside the walls. The guard is overwhelmed.”

Ocato responded calmly; “Courage soldier, we have an emperor again. Your highness, what are your orders? Shall the guards fall back to the palace?”

“No! If we let ourselves get besieged in the palace we are doomed; we must get to the Temple of the One Immediately.”

“As you command, Emperor. Guards, form up and protect the emperor. To the Temple of the One.”

As the chancellor was speaking, Varvur noticed two figures entering the council chambers, both dressed in full Daedric armor. Not just figures, two Daedra! Without thinking Varvur drew his blade and rushed towards the two Daedra. The moment his blade met that of the first Daedra, he knew he was in for a tough fight. Fortunately the two were vastly outnumbered. Jauffre, Baurus, Martin, Ocato and the guards present were soon joined against the two intruders and together, it took them but a few moments to dispose of them.

The situation must be terrible, Varvur found himself thinking, if Daedra had been able to slip into the palace proper. He moved in front of Martin and, after looking for reassurance, started moving toward the door.

Outside, in the Green Emperor way, he immediately saw they were in trouble again. In front of them, three Daedra were running toward them, and to the left, another four were coming at them. Seven Daedra against eight of them- it would be a close call. He didn’t stop to consider it though, and rushed directly toward the three Daedra who were coming at them from the front. Out of the corner of his eye he saw two of the guards stationed at the entrance to the palace following him.

Two of the Daedra came at Varvur, while the guards took on the third. Varvur was hard pressed; just when he’d defended against one blow, the second Daedra would strike. It left no time to attack himself. All he could hope for was to keep the two busy long enough for the two guards to take care of their opponent and come to his aid. The alternative was not something Varvur wanted to consider. But from what he could tell, that single Daedra was giving the two guards a hard time.

All of a sudden one of the Daedra he was fighting came at Varvur at an odd angle, leaving itself exposed but also forcing Varvur to drop his blade low to defend against the strike. He knew at once he’d been tricked when he saw the second Daedra come in with a high strike. Was this then how he would meet his end? Having come so far but still coming up short in the end. He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable blow that would end his life, but after some seconds, it hadn’t come.

He opened his eyes again, and saw the Daedra who had minutes ago been ready to deliver a deathly blow to him, now frozen with a number of arrows protruding from his neck area. Varvur spun around lightning fast and delivered a crippling blow to the leg of his other opponent. Behind the body of the first Daedra, he saw a number of Imperial legionnaires running toward him. They were shooting arrows as they came and Varvur saw the Daedra facing the two guards had also been disposed of by well-timed missiles.

He quickly ran back up the stairs and towards Martin and his group. They were doing well too; two Daedra had already been defeated with a third staggering. Baurus and Chancellor Ocato were battling the fourth. Varvur wanted to smile, but then he saw Baurus suddenly stumble over the foot of a fallen legionnaire, and drop to his knees. Ocato moved in front of him but was thrown back by a shockwave emanating from what must have been a spell.

As fast as Varvur could, he ran up to Baurus and, just as the Daedra was readying his warhammer to deliver a deathly blow to Baurus, Varvur used all of the might he had to force his blade into the Daedra’s stomach. The warhammer fell, and so did the Daedra, shattering Varvur’s blade in the process.

Looking over, Varvur saw Martin and Jauffre and the newly arrived troops had gotten rid of the last of the Daedra and all was quiet again, for now anyway.

Varvur looked down at Baurus, who appeared still to be in shock, and offered him a hand to help him up. “Thank you Varvur, you saved my life, yet again.”

“Don’t mention it Baurus. I didn’t save you from Raven Camoran only to see you die at the hands of some generic Daedra here.” They exchanged a meaningful smile. It was a moment they would likely carry with them for the rest of their lives.

Varvur looked around for a new weapon. The dead legionnaire had carried a blade, a standard imperial broadsword, but for now it would have to do. He saw the commander of the men who had arrived in time to turn the fight walk up to Martin, bow and speak;

“The palace is cut off, sire. We are the last to make it through from the Legion compound. My men and I are at your disposal. What are your orders?”

“I need to get to the Temple of the One; it’s our only chance to stop Mehrunes Dagon.”

“Yes sir! Let’s move out!”

Varvur again took the lead. He wanted to make sure nothing unexpected would come before them. They ran a short way and entered the temple district.

Looking left, Varvur saw two Daedra but also saw there were several legionnaires already battling them. The Legion commander sent two of his men to help them and Varvur knew it would be enough. He looked to the right and saw another few Daedra running at them. One of them was a Xivilai, an even more dangerous opponent than the more common Daedra. He did not hesitate, but ran straight for the blue-skinned Xivilai. Chancellor Ocato and Jauffre were there fighting next to him. He was thankful for that, because one blow from the Xivilai told him he might not have made it on his own, not after the fights he’d already been in that day.

The three of them together were able to defeat the Xivilai swiftly, and after regrouping with Martin, Baurus and the rest of the men, they were once again ready to move on.

Nothing had prepared Varvur for what he saw as he rounded the last curve; for there in front of him, next to the entrance to the Temple of the One, towered Mehrunes Dagon himself, a giant with a wicked Daedric battleaxe in one hand and a vicious claw-like weapon in another. As he came into view, Varvur saw him pick up one of the Imperial guards that was fighting him, and tear him apart with his two free hands. Fire, blood, and intestines fell all around them and Varvur turned to Martin just as the new Emperor started to speak;

“We’re too late. Mehrunes Dagon is here. Lighting the dragonfires will no longer save us; the barriers that protected us from Oblivion are gone.”

Hearing that from someone he had hoped would be able to protect them all from the Daedra prince was a blow to Varvur. He responded, “Can we cast him back into Oblivion?”

“I don’t see how. Mortal weapons may hurt him but now that he is physically here in Tamriel, they have no power to actually destroy him.”

“What about the Amulet of Kings?”

Martin seemed to ponder that for a moment, “Wait… yes, the amulet was given to mortals by Akatosh, and it contains his divine power. But how to use this power against Dagon? The amulet was not intended as a weapon.”

He considered the question with the lightning-fast intellect Varvur had come to know, then spoke decisively,

“I have an idea, one last hope. I must reach the dragon fires in the Temple of the One.”

“But you said it was no use.”

Martin looked reassuringly at Varvur and responded, “You’ll just have to trust me. I now know what I was born to do. I need your help; I just have to get past Mehrunes Dagon.”

“I’ll get you to the Temple.”

“Then I’ll do the rest. Lead on my friend.”


Varvur motioned to the others to advance and while they were obviously all deathly afraid of this giant god in front of them, they moved anyway. To Mehrunes it must have seemed like a pack of ants coming after him, but ants with very sharp weapons anyway. And while none of them was even able to slightly hurt the Daedric God, they did what Varvur had intended for them to do; they distracted the Daedra long enough so that Varvur and Martin could sneak past the god and into the temple.

As soon as they entered the temple, Martin’s face grew serene, and he walked to the far side of the room with Varvur following. Martin turned to Varvur and spoke;

“I do what I must do; I cannot stay to rebuild Tamriel; that task falls to others.
Farewell- you’ve been a good friend in the short time that I’ve known you.
But now I must go; the Dragon waits.”

After that Martin ran to the center of the room and stood within the very center of the Temple. Varvur ran after him but before he was able to come too close and ask Martin what he meant, a rumbling froze him in place. He looked up just in time to see Mehrunes Dagon destroy most of the ceiling of the temple and step inside.

Varvur looked back at Martin, thinking he had to be frozen in fear as well, but instead he saw hisfriend, his Emperor rip the amulet from around his neck, and smash it on the floor. The moment the amulet was shattered, bright white light begun to emanate from Martin’s very core. The light kept on getting brighter until Varvur was forced to cover his eyes. Then came an explosion that seemed to sear through his hands and eyelids, and the white light turned to orange and was gone.

Varvur uncovered his eyes and saw that where Martin had stood a giant dragon now roared defiance at Mehrunes. Akatosh! Akatosh the dragon god must have somehow come to defend Tamriel against the evil Daedric god Mehrunes Dagon. Praise be Azura.

Mehrunes did not appear to be intimidated; he swung his battle axe and delivered a mighty blow to the dragon’s side. He followed that with a blow from his claw. Akatosh roared his defiance again, and beat massive wings to rise up and strike at Mehrunes. Landing back on his feet, the dragon clamped his powerful jaw to bite upon Mehrunes’ throat. It would have been a death-blow against any mortal opponent, and must have hurt even the Daedra prince, for Mehrunes slumped over.

Akatosh roared again, and this time unleashed a rain of fire onto Mehrunes. Everywhere it touched him, bright white light began to shine from the body of Mehrunes. And his voice cried out. “No! No! Thwarted again!” His hideous face suddenly turned to look directly at Varvur. “You, foolish mortal, you dared interfere with the plans of Mehrunes Dagon?”

“I might be banished back into Oblivion once more, but I shall not leave alone.”

With that Varvur felt a huge, scaly hand wrap itself around him, crushing him. He cried out in agony but there was no one there to help him. Then all around him the world turned dark.






Baurus entered the Temple of the One just as the hand of Mehrunes Dagon was closing over Varvur. Light was pouring through Mehrunes entire body now and just as he prepared to rush to Varvur, to perhaps cut him free , Mehrunes let out one last cry and vanished, along with Varvur.

Baurus looked up with tears in his eyes, and saw Akatosh come back down to the ground. For a moment he thought he saw pity in the god’s eyes, and then Akatosh raised his head, as if to roar at the sky, but then he closed them again, lowered his head a bit and stopped moving.

Where the living Dragon had stood just moments before, there was now a marble statue claws and wings spread wide, looking up at the sky.

Baurus couldn’t admire the beauty of it, though, all he could think about was what he’d seen just moments ago- the hand of Mehrunes closing around Varvur’s body, and then both of them disappearing.

He dropped his blade and shield, sank onto his knees and wailed at the sky.

[Olen]

Yay! This was good, I'll have to go and read Morrowind again to remember details though...

You certainly don't mess around in getting the reader hooked, I want to know more now. What's happened to Varvur, how central is this to the plot, what will Baurus do... Excellent stuff.

[redsrock]

I like how you start at the end of the game, rather than the beginning. A very good touch, and I was literally filled with joy by it. I'm not sure why, but I was. *shrug*

The one thing I didn't like was the dialogue at the beginning. Rather than cope what had been said straight from the game, I would have liked to see your own creations. You could have said the same things, but it wouldn't have had to sound so...boring and robotic. I didn't like the game dialogue because I was looking for more of a panicked and fast-paced speech. Mehruhnes Dagon, a Daedric god, had just entered Tamriel with a full army of monsters at his side. I high doubt anyone would have been able to stay as calm as Ocato.

The situation must be terrible, Varvur found himself thinking

Meh, I rather like it when thoughts are italicized, but that's just a personal preference of mine. I thought I'd tell you anyway just to give you another perspective.

and all was quiet again, for now anyway.

This seems a bit odd to me. Since it's an all-out invasion, even if they had cleared their section of the city, wouldn't they have heard the screams and roars coming from the other districts, or at least the ones beside them?

“Thank you Varvur..."

“Don’t mention it Baurus..."

This is something I see from writers a lot, and I always find it very important. When in speech, when we are addressing someone by name there is usually a slight pause before that person's name. So, in the above sentences there should be commas; a comma before "Varvur" in the first, and and a comma before "Baurus" in the second. And that takes care of the slight pause. Do you know what I mean?

I personally thought your battlescenes were fairly weak. You didn't do a whole lot of detail in the scenes, and mostly you said stuff like "They defeated the "etc, etc" and moved on." I don't like that, because I can't picture in my head what's going on. I can't picture the spilled blood, the torn limbs, the screams of agony, etc. You know? And you didn't describe the Xivilai at all, other than saying that they were blue. The Xivilai are indeed much different than the normal Dremoras, so it would have been better if you had explained why.

All of that said, it was a wonderful first chapter. I love the twist at the end, and I simply can't wait for the next installment.

I'm sorry if you find my critique harsh or nitpicky, I apologize. It's just that while I enjoy a good read, I'll always do my best to try and help the author get even better as well.

[Alexander]

I'm sorry if you find my critique harsh or nitpicky, I apologize. It's just that while I enjoy a good read, I'll always do my best to try and help the author get even better as well.

No worries, I really like getting criticism, both positive and negative. I can always learn something new right?

So thanks, and keep up the comments if you will!

[Alexander]

Chapter 2. Aftermath.

Walking through the aisles of wounded made Filben feel very sad. Such suffering, such a heavy price paid to bring back peace to the Empire and close the doors to Oblivion. And now the Empire would have to rebuild itself, restore order, and try to endure- all without an Emperor. A groan from one of the beds caused her to kneel down and cast another healing spell. She was reaching the end of her endurance, but how could she sleep knowing so many brave men and women were suffering, or even dying?

Filben often thought back to the day when she came to Cyrodiil. Nearly three years ago now, she came here from Valenwood. A typical Bosmer, she had been a master at the longbow nearly as soon as she could walk. But to Filben it simply wasn’t enough, where many Bosmer find they have a knack for the more stealthy professions, Filben knew at a very early age that she wanted to use her time on Nirn to heal and help those less fortunate then she.

With the help of a local Mages Guild Wizard, she was teleported to the Imperial City and presented to Raminus Polus. He must have seen something special in her, because he accepted her into the guild at face value. She thought to herself that it surely had nothing to do with her exterior; she wasn’t tall, or muscular, but then no Bosmer was. Her sign surely had helped, the Ritual both helped restore her and turn the undead; for a mage that was always helpful. And like any healer she had spent many years training her will, and trying her best to develop a helpful bedside manner.

A new noise ended her day-dreaming. Two voices down the hall were loudly arguing. What a thing to do; a sickbay in the middle of the night was no place for a loud argument such as that. Walking briskly towards the sound of the voices, Filben found the voices were coming from two people, a Redguard with some nasty looking cuts over his face and body, and an Altmer towering over him, trying to keep him in bed.

“Gentlemen! Please lower your voices; this is a sickbay, and people are trying to rest.”

Two sets of eyes turned towards her, and Filben was shocked to see the Altmer who was standing with his back to her was none other then Chancellor Ocato.

“I agree, and I’ve been trying to explain it to Baurus here. A sickbay is a place of rest, Baurus, and you need to get some rest. I understand you’re concerned for Varvur, but you can’t help him if you’re exhausted now can you?”

“But Chancellor, how can I rest knowing Mehrunes Dagon has him, knowing what he must be doing to him?”

Filben could see the pain in Baurus’ eyes; she tried to think of something comforting to say, but in the end realized all she could say was the truth; “Ser Baurus, you look exhausted. I understand you’ve been up for more than a day now, and it’s the middle of the night. What good will you do Varvur if you die of exhaustion? Besides, even if we allowed you to get up now, where would you go? Who would you see? Who could help you get to Oblivion now?”

Seeing Baurus had no reply to that, Filben walked up to him and gently pressed him down into the bed, and covered him with a blanket. “Trust me Baurus, in the morning you’ll be in much better shape. And you will need all your strength to do something as monumental as traveling into Oblivion itself.”

Filben saw Ocato smile at her, and gesture for her to follow him. “It would be wise to give him some sleeping potion, or at least something that will help him calm down. Knowing Baurus I would not be surprised to see him try and sneak out of here in an hour or two.”

“It shall be as you say Chancellor. Ah, and Chancellor, my apologies for just now, I should not have spoken to you in such a manner, asking you to be quiet I mean.”

“Nonsense, you were right. Tell me young lady, what is your name?”

“Filben, Chancellor, recently promoted Journeyman in the Mages guild.”

“Filben, I shall have to remember that name. Good night Filben.”

“Good night Chancellor.”

Journeyman indeed. Oh Filben was a Journeyman, but it hadn’t been exactly conventional. She had done all the recommendation quests save the one from Cheydinhal as she had heard the ranking member there was none too pleasant, so she wanted to save it for last, when the Oblivion crisis erupted. All conventions were thrown out of the window at that point, and Filben was made apprentice and stationed at Skingrad to assist the rest of the mages there. For her work there she was promoted once again to Journeyman and was presented a choice of staves. After some consideration she chose one with a powerful shock damage spell on it because while skilled in the arts of healing and even subversive magic, destructive magic had always been her worst side.





During the next week Filben cared for the wounded in the sickbay, and thanks to the efforts of all the healers doing their best, most of those injured had recovered by then, or enough so at least to allow them to go home. One day though, one of the apprentices came by to escort her to Raminus Polus.

When she entered the Arch-Mage’s lobby she was startled for a moment to see Chancellor Ocato there, speaking to Raminus. While it was true the Chancellor was technically a Master-Wizard in the guild, he was rarely seen at the university, spending most of his time at the palace ruling, as best he could, the Empire.

“Ah Filben. Thank you for coming. We were just speaking about you actually.” While Raminus said it in a pleasant voice, Filben wasn’t too assured. Had her speaking out against the Chancellor cost her her place in the mages guild? She certainly hoped not.

“Master-Wizard Polus, you asked to see me?”

“Yes, I have a small errand to run. As you know all the counts and countesses are in the city, including Count Hassildor. I understand you got to know him a bit during your time in Skingrad?”

“Yes Master-Wizard, I did.”

“Good. I would like you to go to him and ask him to meet me here tonight. There are some matters I wish to discuss with him.”

“As you wish, Master-Wizard. Was there anything else?”

“Now that you mention it, be here first thing in the morning. I believe the Arch-Mage will have a few things to discuss with you.”

“Yes Master-Wizard.”

That was it then; the Arch-Mage wanted to personally scold her for speaking against the Chancellor, and then personally expel her. So much for her days in the Mages guild. She worried about this the entire way to the hotel of Count Hassildor, and obviously it must have still shown when she delivered the message from Raminus, because the count stopped her before she left and asked her what was wrong.

Surprisingly he laughed after she was done telling him. “You shouldn’t worry so much, Filben; I’m sure things will be fine.”

“I’m not, Janus.” Even after calling him that for months now, it still felt strange. During her time in Skingrad she had had to visit the castle often, and while she was at first shocked to see a Vampire rule an Imperial city, she soon found out why. Janus had one of the most flexible minds she had ever met, and they soon became close friends. Janus had insisted she call him by his first name, and after he nagged her about it for weeks, she had agreed. As close as they were, Filben never allowed herself to forget he was a Count though. “I’m not at all sure Janus, but I’ll try to face my expulsion with dignity.”

The two of them talked for over an hour, but even after Filben was lying in bed that night, she couldn’t help but dread the next morning.

[Colonel Mustard]

Hmm, an interesting start, especially with the Nerevarine's kidnap by Mehrunes Dagon (I take it Varvur is the Nerevarine-I've yet to read Morrowind). I wander what horrific tortures the Big D will inflict on him. They will be horrific, right? Only you can't really have a character being kidnapped by a daedric prince without horrific tortures. It's just not the done thing!

Sorry, I'm going off on a tangent here...

Anyway, writing wise I have to say it could do with improvement. The entire thing seems to suffer from Show-not-tell syndrome. One example would be: “I’m not, Janus.” Even after calling him that for months now, it still felt strange. During her time in Skingrad she had had to visit the castle often, and while she was at first shocked to see a Vampire rule an Imperial city, she soon found out why. Janus had one of the most flexible minds she had ever met, and they soon became close friends. Janus had insisted she call him by his first name, and after he nagged her about it for weeks, she had agreed. As close as they were, Filben never allowed herself to forget he was a Count though. “I’m not at all sure Janus, but I’ll try to face my expulsion with dignity.”

This entire bit is just too big for being in the middle of dialogue, and really breaks up the flow.

And also: Journeyman indeed. Oh Filben was a Journeyman, but it hadn’t been exactly conventional. She had done all the recommendation quests save the one from Cheydinhal as she had heard the ranking member there was none too pleasant, so she wanted to save it for last, when the Oblivion crisis erupted. All conventions were thrown out of the window at that point, and Filben was made apprentice and stationed at Skingrad to assist the rest of the mages there. For her work there she was promoted once again to Journeyman and was presented a choice of staves. After some consideration she chose one with a powerful shock damage spell on it because while skilled in the arts of healing and even subversive magic, destructive magic had always been her worst side.

It's a info dump. And info dumps are very rarely a good thing.

Work on it, Alexander. The only way to get better is to practice, and you're shaping up to be damn good. Keep it up.

This post has been edited by The Bean: Mar 22 2009, 09:32 PM

[Alexander]

Hmm, an interesting start, especially with the Nerevarine's kidnap by Mehrunes Dagon (I take it Varvur is the Nerevarine-I've yet to read Morrowind). I wander what horrific tortures the Big D will inflict on him. They will be horrific, right? Only you can't really have a character being kidnapped by a daedric prince without horrific tortures. It's just not the done thing!

Actually, Relien Geles is the Nerevarine. Varvur started off as bodyguard to him. But I wouldn't want to say too much about the other story lest I spoil it.

And please, keep up with the comments.

[Colonel Mustard]

I see.

I still want hellish torment, you understand. Not just horrific any more, hellish!

[Olen]

I like the second part, and unlike Beanie (sorry but I couldn't resist) I think the wandering paragraphs work. Certainly they could have greater urgency and have more show less tell but equally its part of how you write. Morrowind was similar, it takes a couple of parts to get into but in general it flows quite smoothly and is readable. As far as the infodump went, to be honest it is a bit but I didn't pick up on it while I was reading so, for me, it worked. I knew what you wanted to convey and didn't see the infodump. Of course avoiding them is best but disgusing them essentially boils down to the same thing.

So in short, it could be more direct and immediate but its not. And that works, in my opinion at least. It makes your style more resemblent of epic fantasy than other genres. I would say there is a balance though and I would also say that you're at the extreme of what works, but it works.

I did have a point.... Honest.

[Colonel Mustard]

Fair enough Olen-each to their own and all that. Just don't call me Beanie, only Minque can do that (and only because she's a moderator).

[redsrock]

Second chapter was very nice. I know the theme of the chapter was Filben fearing that she would be scolded for speaking out against Ocato, but I couldn't help but feel it was somewhat forced, and that it's obvious that she WON'T be scolded. Meh, but that's just me being nitpicky.

Nice job.

[Alexander]

When she entered the lobby, fortunately all she saw was Raminus. Perhaps Janus had changed his and the Arch-Mage’s mind about expelling her. She certainly hoped so. Her hopes were soon crushed though, “Filben, thank you for coming. The Arch-Mage is expecting us in his chambers; please follow me.”

Resigned to her fate, Filben walked behind Raminus as they entered the Arch-Mage’s chambers. She had only seen the Arch-Mage once, a kind looking old Breton who had personally welcomed her to Cyrodiil.

She had seen the others in the room far more often though; Caranya, a female Altmer, Irlav Jarol, an Imperial male, Tar-Meena, an Argonian female and the one who had provided Filben with her staff; together with Raminus and the Arch-Mage, the five of them formed the Council of Mages, the highest ruling body in the Cyrodiil chapter of the Mages guild.

“Welcome Filben.” She just didn’t understand this pleasant tone, and now the Arch-Mage was also smiling at her; surely they wouldn’t enjoy expelling her? Or could Janus have been right in saying she surely wouldn’t be expelled?

“Filben, Count Hassildor tells me you’re worried we might expel you, is that so?”

No one lies to the Arch-Mage, so obviously she replied truthfully “Yes Arch-Mage, I was wrong in speaking so to the Chancellor in sickbay that day, and I will understand if I am expelled for that.”

“Well that’s funny, because Raminus tells me the Chancellor came here in person yesterday to speak on your behalf. Apparently he has been as impressed with your work as Count Hassildor, and the Skingrad chapter members.”

“He, he came to speak for me? Not against me?”

“Indeed. After having spoken about it with the rest of the Council, and in light of your accomplishments, we see no other choice but to promote you to Magician- with all the benefits and responsibilities that go alongside it.” The Archmage was smiling through all this, and so were most of the others. Filben could have hugged them if not for the fact that they would likely consider it beneath their stature.

“Now then, with that out of the way, there are pressing matters. Filben, please stay a while longer; I have an assignment for you as well. One that might make you wish I had not promoted you just now.”

“Rumors have been floating to the surface for a while now that an organized group of Necromancers has started to show itself. Reports are increasing and Tar-Meena here, while retrieving the wood required for your staff, found the guardians of the Wellspring cave slaughtered and the necromancers who did the deed still present. Unfortunately none could be captured for information, but if they were able to best the two guardians the organization is powerful indeed.”

“After this event we sent a Mages guild member to infiltrate the organization. Unfortunately we haven’t heard from him for some few days now, and to be honest, I’m worried harm might have come to him. The last communication from him was when he was holed up in an Ayleid ruin along with a number of Necromancers. The name of the ruin is Nenyond Twyll. Filben, I want you to travel there and see if you can find him and bring him back. Or if you can’t find him, find out what happened to him. I shall mark the location on your map and provide you with a code which you can use to recognize him.”

Turning to the rest of the council, the Arch-Mage continued, “While she is doing that, I have a different task for the rest of you. I want you to each travel to a city or series of cities and convey the news that a band of Necromancers is active. I do not wish to use magical means of communications, because there is always a chance of them listening in. Caranya, I want you to travel to Bruma, and then on to Chorrol. Tar-Meena, you will visit the southern cities Bravil and Leyawiin. Irlav, you will travel west, first to Skingrad, then Kvatch and then on to Anvil. And Raminus, travel to Cheydinhal and while you’re there, please promote Deetsan to Wizard and confirm her as the new head of that chapter.”

“Irlav, while you’re in Kvatch, speak with Falcar. He’s a competent administrator and I’m sure he’s doing his best to complete his voluntary mission of building a new Mages guild chapter there, but let him know I would value more frequent updates. Now I want all of you to return post haste after you’ve informed the various cities. Once our informant returns we will have much to discuss.”

It was Caranya who spoke next, “Arch-Mage, might it be wise for Filben to know the name of the Informant rather than just a code?”

“You may be right Caranya. His name is Mucianus Allias.
Leave as soon as you can. That will be all.”


As soon as she could for Filben was immediately. She was so happy for being named Magician. Janus was right; she always thought too negatively about events, and this time not only had she not been expelled, she had been promoted, even skipped two ranks. She was so pleased, that she nearly didn’t see the man in a black robe as she rode across the old bridge on her black horse. Her horse just barely missed him but he had to jump to miss the horse. How odd though, she thought. She hadn’t seen him come from down the road, so he must have come from under the bridge. What could he be doing under an old bridge dressed as he was?

She got down from her horse to see if the man was alright, but as he raised his face to look at her, she noticed what she had often seen caring for the ill ; insanity. The man was clearly not sane and he proved it when without warning, he drew a dagger and came at her. Filben barely had time to think before he was on her, but casting a quick invisibility spell gave her the edge. Almost as an afterthought she cast a silence spell. An invisibility spell was effective until one acted, but never disguised the sound one makes while moving around. The spell combination gave her enough time to walk around the man and take up the staff she always carried on her back.

Dispelling the spells she called to the man, “I wish you no harm, but am a member of the Mages guild and will defend myself if forced to. Drop your dagger.”

He would not listen to reason, though, and came after her again even before she had finished speaking. With a heavy heart she lowered her staff and cast the shock spell on the man. He was killed almost instantly, but not before having time to quietly babble about some revenge he would be unable to take now.

Filben was torn; on one hand she did not want to leave a dead body out here without proper burial rites; on the other hand she had an important mission. In the end she chose to continue on her way and sent word through magical means to the Imperial City, informing them of the corpse.












Not long after Filben had left, a tall woman in a black robe similar to that of the dead man stumbled across the corpse. She was supposed to find her latest orders underneath the old bridge south of the Imperial City. But the last orders had said nothing about finding a corpse so close to it, and while the Silencer was a Nord, she was not dumb. By the look of the clothes and the enchantment on the knife lying beside the dead Breton, this was obviously a member of the Dark Brotherhood.

What was he doing there? She didn’t know. Looking underneath the bridge she did find her new orders; to kill a known psychotic called Shaleez in flooded mine. You didn’t have to be a scholar to sense something was odd here. Rather than pursue her next target, she thought it best to return first to her Speaker, Lucien Lachance, and ask if the dead body should be seen as a change in plans.

[Olen]

Good update, the plot is already thinkening well. So much going on, I like it.

More Please?

[Alexander]

Before I post the next part which is the start of a new chapter, I feel I should appologize. I wrote two chapters from different perspectives, quite a while apart, but after reading them back I found the events not only to be taking place at the exact same time, but also at almost exactly the same places.

keeping the two chapters as they were, one after the other, simply didn't feel right as you might read about some things in one chapter that were meant in a different chapter, so instead I decided to mix the two chapters into two new chapters to make it more chronologically sound.

My appologies if this harms the flow of the chapters.
--------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 3. Moving forward.

The weeks after the incident in the temple of the one were chaos. Throughout Cyrodiil, people grieved for Martin Septim. Just as they had a new emperor, fate reared its ugly head and tore him away from them again. But everyone was at least as sorry to lose Varvur Sarethi. While he had only been in Cyrodiil for two years, his actions had made him famous and beloved by everyone. The Hero of Kvatch, savior of Bruma, and Champion of Cyrodiil.

Chancellor Ocato had made an official statement the day after the catastrophic events in the Imperial City, proclaiming before everyone who had gathered that Varvur would henceforth be known as the Champion of Cyrodiil.

But even in the midst of their grief, the business of securing the Empire had to take precedence. Nobles from every town in Cyrodiil were arriving at the Imperial City, for there was to be a meeting of the Elder Council tonight inside the palace. Baurus had been assigned to the count and countess of Anvil to make sure no harm befell them in the chaotic Imperial city.

Baurus found it very hard to do his job properly; many times during the days of meetings he found his mind wandering, away from the count and countess and to Varvur. Knowing he might still be alive and in the grasp of someone as awful as Mehrunes Dagon made Baurus despair. It was only on the insistence of Jauffre that he’d even agreed to serve as guard to the count and countess. Jauffre probably assumed it would take his mind off of other things, but Baurus didn’t think anything could take his mind off of the loss of Martin, his Emperor; and of Varvur, his friend.

He’d gone to see Chancellor Ocato several times now, begging him to allow Baurus to seek out someone, anyone, who might know of a way to either teleport into Oblivion, or teleport someone out of it, but either Ocato didn’t know of such a way, not now with the gates to Oblivion being shut by Martin, or he simply wasn’t telling. He’d also pleaded with Jauffre, even begged at one time, to send out any and every Blade operative in search for answers, but of course Jauffre judged them more needed in the Imperial city and the rest of Cyrodiil than on what he must consider a wild goose chase.

“Baurus.” Startled from his thoughts, Baurus looked up to see both count and countess looking at him in a questioning manner.

“I’m sorry my lord, my lady, what was the question?”

“My husband and I think it’s time to go to the Imperial Council chambers; the meeting will surely start soon.” Almost as an afterthought she added; “Are you feeling alright, Baurus?”

“Yes, my lady. My apologies for being distracted, and you’re right of course; please follow me.”

Baurus led them through the city to the Green Emperor Way, and into the palace. They were questioned several times by patrolling guards. After the attacks, patrols had been increased dramatically; in fact, all security had been greatly increased. Baurus stopped at the entrance to the Imperial Council chambers. Looking inside he spotted Grandmaster Jauffre, Chancellor Ocato, and at least half a dozen counts and countesses already inside. Stepping aside, he allowed Count and Countess Umbranox to enter the chambers. Baurus took position next to the only door leading in, safe in the knowledge that anyone that wanted to disturb the meeting would have to go through all the Imperial guards stationed at the doors, several other Blades acting as bodyguards and himself.

“You soldier, you’re Baurus aren’t you?” Turning around, Baurus saw Count Caro of Leyawiin and his wife looking at him.

“Yes, my lord; that I am.”

“They say you were close to Varvur and actually saw him crushed by Mehrunes Dagon.”

“Yes, my lord, I was and I did.”
“I’m sorry for your loss Baurus. He was a brave man.”

“Hah!”

Startled by the sudden outburst, both the Count and Baurus looked at the source, and, as she saw their faces turn toward her, with much insolence the Countess continued;

“’Man’ indeed. He was no man, he was but a Mer, and a Dunmer at that. Running headlong into the enemy is all they’re good for isn’t it? Perhaps had it not been for him, we might still have an emperor rather than a marble statue.”

It took all of Baurus’ self control not to strike down the Countess where she stood. He was about to say something, but was saved by Count Caro who responded first.

“Enough! I forbid you to speak of the Champion of Cyrodiil thus. Go on inside Alessia; I’ll be along shortly.” His look showed that he was very angry with his wife, and she chose to take the safe route and did as he said. Turning back to Baurus, the Count spoke,

“My sincere apologies, Baurus. Unfortunately Alessia has never had a very worldly view; lately though, it only seems to have gotten worse. She should never have been allowed to say what she said.”

“I understand Count Caro, and she’s not the only one with such views.”

The Count nodded at that and proceeded inside; the doors closed after him indicating the meeting was starting. Baurus looked down, and saw his hands were bloody; he’d pressed his fingers so hard into his palms that the nails had penetrated his flesh.

[Badda-Tish]

I first thought the man in the black robe was a necromancer, seemed more likely to be that then a dark brotherhood member.

[minque]

Oh....just noticed this! But then again I've been working almost 24/7 the last week! And now I'm off to work again, but I'll read this story, hopefully coming weekend!

[Alexander]

Countess Arriana Valga was seated comfortably in her chair in the Elder Council Chambers. It was where she belonged. As she often told people, some are born to lead, and some are born to follow. She was born to lead. She grew up on a small farm outside Chorrol, but even in her early years she knew she was destined for greatness. She went to the mass in the Chapel of Stendarr every Sundas and prayed to the god of mercy to grant her the opportunity to bestow her wisdom and blessings upon those less fortunate than she. Her prayers were answered one day when the Count of Chorrol, obviously inspired by a divine voice, spotted her in the Chapel and started paying court to her.

Even after she became Countess, and now ruling Countess, she prided herself on never missing a sermon. It was quite a responsibility, ruling an entire city and looking out for the people in it, and doing her best to care for the rest of Cyrodiil as well, but if there was one woman up to the task, it was she.

She was aroused from her thoughts when she noticed that around her the voices had grown quiet. “Countess Valga.” Using her excellent memory to think back to what had been said just before the silence started, the Countess was quickly able to regain her composure.

“Chancellor Ocato, you ask what we should do about Morrowind. I say this- nothing. It has nothing to do with how powerful their mages are or how mighty their new Ghostfence is or how this or how that. The people rebelled against their own king, and now they would choose no ruler to replace the king. Lady Barenziah doesn’t even wish to be named Queen. I mean they are obviously a backward people as it is apparent the Divines have considered them unworthy of order through righteous rule. So I say let them be, and smother in their own ignorance. The Divines will punish them as they see fit.”

Arriana was pleased with herself; she ignored the stares of some of the other counts and countesses. Some people might have thought them stares of pity, but not Arriana. She knew them for what they were; stares of envy. She had known them all her life. People had always been envious of her because she was better than them, she knew the will of the Divines and acted accordingly; and others, even if they knew the will of the Divines, never had the courage nor patience to live their lives accordingly.

The vote on the matter went as planned; only the Count of Cheydinhal voted in favor of immediate action against what he called the “usurpers alliance”; the other Counts and Countesses voted to leave the province alone for now and deal with it when the time was right.

Next on the agenda was another small matter. Who would be charged to rebuild Kvatch? None of the other Counts and Countesses was really looking forward to receiving this job, so when Janus Hassildor proposed his seneschal, Mercator Hosidus, for the job, no one objected.

Now it would be time for Arriana’s proposition. She had petitioned Chancellor Ocato to be allowed to enter her own proposal to the Elder Council, and naturally he had allowed it. How could he not allow the most able ruler in all of Cyrodiil to bring to the table a proposal, especially one of such obvious wisdom and merit?

Standing up out of her seat, she began the speech she had been practicing for many days.

“My fellow Counts and Countesses, in the name of the Divines I thank you for being allowed to speak to you.” She ignored the sighs, “What I have to say will be the first step in healing this Empire, and restoring it to its rightful greatness.”

“For years now, in every province there has been resistance. Not just during the recent crisis but even before it. Small and larger rebellions, briberies, extortion, killings, and much more I won’t even name. I believe the reason for this is simple. The Divines are mad at us for disturbing the natural order of things. The Empire was founded by Imperials and expanded outward from Cyrodiil. To reclaim our former greatness, we need to go back to our roots; we need to start all over again.”

“What I propose is simple; we should recall all of our Legions, nor just the ones we have already recalled, but all of them, along with any and all other officials proven to be loyal to the empire. Recall them all back to Cyrodiil, and keep them here for at least ten years. During those years we will train them and train them and train them again to make sure both our armies and officials are competent, loyal and all serve their rightful rulers; the Divines. We’ll weed out all of the non-believers and those not qualified.”

“After ten years without our steady hand, and wise words to lead, and guide them, the other provinces will be in chaos and ready to take us back whatever the cost. This time, we will be able to name any terms we choose and need not make any concessions like the Septim line has done in the past.”

“This is my proposal.”

Arriana stood erect, awaiting the inevitable standing ovation one always gets when one speaks words as wise as any god. Instead, other than an exalted and admiring look from her daughter, most other Counts and Countesses looked at her in disbelief. Not liking the stares, she decided to sit down. It was Count Hassildor who reacted first.

“Countess Valga, while none can ignore the obvious benefits in the short term for the province of Cyrodiil, I fear in the long run it would not have the desired effect you think it may have.”

The insolence of that man. “Ah, is that so Count Hassildor? And why is that?”

“After ten years of being without the Empire, I believe it would prove disastrous for us to move back into those provinces. I believe we would not be hailed as saviors, but denounced as conquerors, and once again would need to pay the price of a conqueror. And need I remind you; this time we have no Tiber Septim to lead us, nor any Emperor for that matter. No, I fear your logic is flawed, Countess Valga.”

Arriana could feel herself turning red with anger. How dare he; who was he to ignore words spoken from divine inspiration? She struggled hard to get her temper back under control; she mustn’t forget; he simply didn’t know any better. She should only pity those with less good sense, not scorn them.

“Regardless, Chancellor Ocato, I would like to put this proposition to a vote. I’m confident others will have a better grasp of what needs to be done than Count Hassildor.”

To her utter disbelief, the vote came back against her. One vote in favor, six against and one abstention. The abstention had come from Countess Carvain of Bruma. What a pitiful creature she had become. Ever since the Oblivion crisis she had become the most unsure ruler of them all, perhaps in the history of Cyrodiil. A moment of embarrassment had occurred after the vote; right after Chancellor Ocato had announced the results, her daughter, Countess Caro, had jumped up and loudly exclaimed;

“Chancellor Ocato, perchance you did not hear my voice. I voted in favor of this proposal.” The Chancellor did not even dignify this with a response; instead it was Count Umbranox of Anvil who replied, in that know-it-all voice of his;

“Alessia, while every Count and Countess is welcome during these proceedings, only a city’s ruling Count or Countess has a vote in these matters. So while you’re welcome to argue on behalf of your mother, you cannot cast a vote in favor, or a vote permanent. This was made law by Uriel I, in year 55 of this Era.”

Alessia sat down with her face red from embarrassment, and Arriana wondered once again what she had done to deserve a daughter like that. Surely it was a test from the gods. But that her proposal was denied was an even bigger matter than that of a less then intelligent daughter. She could not understand it; after she had explained her plan to him, the snake-man had assured her the other Counts and Countesses would likewise see the wisdom and divine inspiration in her words. No, something was wrong here. Someone had polluted the minds of the other Counts against her words. Someone was influencing the Council, obviously to further some diabolical plot to further disrupt the empire. But whoever it was, Arriana was up to the challenge; she would make sure the Empire prospered, no matter what.

[Alexander]

Chapter 4. Plans are made.

Baurus was standing next to the door when it opened. The meeting had ended and it was time to take the Counts and Countesses back to the Tiber Septim hotel. At the sight of the doors opening, all the guards and Blades sprang to attention. First ones out of the chambers were Count and Countess Umbranox. They swept past Baurus and left him little choice but to follow rather than lead.

“I cannot believe her; how can someone who rules be so dense?” Baurus didn’t know what had gotten the Countess this upset, but decided it wouldn’t do to ask questions.

“Don’t forget love, the only reason for her being ruling Countess is the untimely passing of her husband the count. She’s simply not used to dealing with such pressure and she might see this as the most logical short term solution to the problem.”

“Surely you don’t agree with her Corvus? Recalling the remaining legions from all the provinces would send the empire into greater chaos then it is in now.”

“Of course I don’t agree with her Millona, but I’m just saying that, to someone not used to thinking long term, this might be a very natural reaction.”

“Hmpf. Sure, very natural, and then after five years or so, when she feels safe enough again, then what, we simply march the legions back into the other provinces and think we can go on the way we always have? No, in five years time those provinces would have tasted independence again, and never want to go back to the old ways where they are merely part of the Empire.”

“Well, regardless of what Countess Valga wants, she doesn’t have nearly enough votes in the Elder Council to get this passed.”

“You’re right Corvus, and she isn’t likely to get enough votes anytime soon.”

The conversation carried them all the way to the Tiber Septim hotel. As she put her hand on the door, Countess Millona Umbranox turned around and looked at Baurus.

“Baurus, Ocato asked to see you in the Elder Council chambers just as soon as you’d seen us safely back to the hotel. I think we can take it from here, so you’d better head back.”

“Yes, my lady; if there’s anything you need from me, one of the guards stationed in the hotel can come get me.”

Bowing, Baurus turned around and walked back to the palace. While he was hoping Ocato wanted to see him about something related to gaining entry into Oblivion, he assumed it was something altogether different.




As he entered the Elder Council chambers, the first thing he noticed was that Ocato wasn’t alone. Jauffre and Captain Steffan were there as well, but so was Count Hassildor from Skingrad. What was he doing here? “Come in Baurus” said Ocato, “and please take a seat.”

“Good, now that we’re all here, Janus, please tell Baurus and the others what you told me last night.”

“Thank you Ocato,” Baurus found the voice very eerie, “Ocato here came to me last night and told me your dilemma. Getting into Oblivion or taking someone out of it is not an easy thing to do. Daedric prices have been summoned in the past, but very few times have mortals entered Oblivion and returned from it alive. I believe the last one to do so was Varvur. But do not despair, for I may have the answer to your problems.”

“As you know, I’m a Vampire. Most people are unaware of that, but the Blades information service is good enough to know that detail. I’ve been a Vampire for many years now; in my early days, right after I’d been turned, I had a close friend, another Vampire. He was a great story teller, and something he’d learned from the Vampire who turned him, he told me. Apparently this Vampire Ancient who turned my friend was a master thief, both in life and in undeath. His most entertaining stories were about robbing a Daedric prince himself; Mehrunes Dagon.”

Baurus felt numb; could this be true? Could he finally have found someone who knew a way into Oblivion, even if he did not have a name? He couldn’t help but feel hesitant to embrace the feeling though and asked; “Count Hassildor, I mean no disrespect, but how can we be certain this is true? How can we be certain the Ancient wasn’t just bragging?”

“A good question, young Baurus.” Baurus wondered if he should feel insulted at that, but then considered that, by Janus Hassildor’s standards, most everyone would likely be considered young. “The Ancient told my friend how he’d found his way into Oblivion one day, well after his own turning, and learned that he was in the realm of Mehrunes Dagon himself. He made his way into the throne room, and there found and stole Mehrunes Razor. After he got back Nirn, he sold this legendary blade to a Dunmer, and not just any Dunmer, but a Telvanni mage-lord called Neloth.”

“It is commonly known that Neloth at one time got hold of Mehrunes Razor, and that it was stolen from him by a number of acrobats and delivered into the hands of former mage-lord, and later Archmagister, Gothren. After that, the blade’s whereabouts are no longer known. Now what is not commonly known, and how I know the tale of my friend is true, is how mage-lord Neloth got hold of the blade. The Ancient told of how he sold it to him, and during my travels I once had the pleasure of meeting Divayth Fyr, arguably the most famous Dunmer, and certainly one of the oldest still living. He told me the other side of the tale, of how mage-lord Neloth sometimes dealt with Vampires if he thought it could further his career, and during one of these dealings, he bought the Razor from an Ancient and used it in his battle against rival mage-lord Gothren.”

“While I agree that if the story had only come from my friend, it might have sounded dubious, together with the story of Fyr, it becomes very plausible- wouldn’t you say young Baurus?”

“Yes, yes Count Hassildor, I would say it would become very plausible.”

“Do you know the name of this Ancient, Janus?” Ocato asked,

“Unfortunately no; my friend has always had a most thorough practice of telling great stories, and not naming names. But then, in his line of work I would guess that is a natural reflex. And I fear I never thought to ask Divayth Fyr about it.”

“His ‘line of work’?” Ocato asked.
“Ah yes, I suppose I hadn’t mentioned this yet. He was, and is, an executioner for the Dark Brotherhood. And please don’t ask me how I became involved with a Vampire who is an executioner for the Dark Brotherhood. I wouldn’t be willing to answer such questions anyway.” At that, the Count showed a very toothy grin.

“Do you know where to find him, Janus?”

“Now that, I do not. Suffice to say, as Count of a city, one has very few dealings with the Dark Brotherhood, if one is lucky, that is. One thing I can say is that he is not in Skingrad or else I would have known. Where he is, I have no idea.”

Baurus looked questioningly at Grandmaster Jauffre and, after seeing him nod, spoke;

“During Varvur’s initial journey into Cyrodiil, he encountered a speaker for the Dark Brotherhood; Lucien Lachance. It took us a while, but we managed to locate his hideout. If anyone knows where your friend is hiding, he would. What’s your friend’s name?”

The Count of Skingrad smiled again and said, “Vicente Valtieri.”

[Badda-Tish]

Can´t wait for the next chapter, you must write something about the orcs in Cheydinhal.