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Posted by: jack cloudy Jan 4 2008, 10:44 PM

Ok, another start. I was going to hold off on this one for a few months but the point is, if I don't switch my focus around regularly, I'll go nuts. And letting it rot on my harddisk feels like a waste. I'm also a bit worried for spoilers regarding my other stories but hey, this might actually serve to keep my interest in other stories fresh. A spoiler here leads me to ask myself 'then how did it exactly happen?'.

So umm, yeah. Let's get going.

http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=5013

Redemption

Chapter 1: End of the wait.

Drip….drip…..drip. Cold water dripped down between the bars and along the rough stone. The crackle of thunder roared through the chamber, the flash of lightning erased the darkness for a brief moment.
,,Bloody bad weather today.” The Dunmer who inhabited the cell mumbled. He glanced at the cell opposite his and sneered. He then walked up to the bars and gripped them with his hands.
,,I said, bad weather today.” He repeated. For a few seconds, he waited. Then he scoffed and walked to the dirty rag that was his bed.
,,Not very talkative today, are we? Well, I envy you. All that water coming in through that peekhole. Fresh water! I haven’t had fresh water in months!” He spun around and faced the bars again.
,,In months, you hear me?! Then why don’t you take advantage of the circumstances and enjoy this luxury your cell provides but mine doesn’t?!”

The man in the other cell lay on his back in a corner of the cell, hands folded under his head, legs slightly spread, feet almost lying in the pool that spread on the floor. The window of his cell lay at the bottom of a slope, which allowed a steady stream of muddy water to enter. To any casual observer, it would seem that he was asleep, comfortable despite the Spartan conditions of his surroundings.
,,Don’t get over-excited. Water isn’t the most important thing in the world.” He replied softly without opening his eyes. The Dunmer grit his teeth.
,,You and your self-righteous proclaimants. Then what is the most important thing in the world, wiseguy? Well, out with it. Show us the great wisdom of the Altmer.” He spat.
,,That is a different thing for each individual. What is the most important thing for you?” The Altmer answered calmly.

The Dunmer kicked one of the walls in his cell.
,,Answering a question with a question of your own? Well then, listen carefully. I don’t know why but I’m just going to tell you! The most important thing for me is a woman! I haven’t had my fun with a woman in five years, I’m telling you. Five years! That’s horrible!” He said.
,,But at least I’ll be out of here soon. And when I do, I’m going to enjoy it all the way. I’ve always been popular with the ladies, unlike you. A different girl each night, and then some. Makes you jealous, doesn’t it?” He gloated. The Altmer shrugged, the only motion he’d made in the last two days.
,,I don’t see any need to be jealous.” He said.

The Dunmer cocked an eyebrow and stalked back to the bars.
,,No need? The Altmer says there is no need to be jealous! Oh, but now I remember. You don’t feel the need to be jealous because your blood is so pure and there is a lass waiting back home who was born just to suit you. Born just to suit you, all thanks to the breeding program you High Elves have. All thanks to your quest for purity.” He snickered and watched his fellow prisoner intently. If he’d been expecting a sign of anger or any other emotion, he would be disappointed.
,,Believe what you will.” Was all the Altmer said.

Thunder roared again. Then, silence, safe for the soft clatter of the rain. The Dunmer had returned to his bed and watched the dark sky outside his window.
,,Believe what you will. He’s got issues. I bet his mother always beat him whenever he had impure thoughts.” He muttered to himself hatefully. He then rose.
,,Believe what you will?” He repeated, louder this time.
,,Well, I know what I believe. I believe I’ll use the cache of money I’ve stored under the loose rock in the wall. I was going to save it for later, but this place and you have gotten on my nerves, so there. I’m going to have some fun in this place, even if it kills me!” He decided and pried loose the brick he’d mentioned.
,,Be carefull what you wish for.” The Altmer warned. The pool had now crept up to his bare toes, but he did not move them. Even though the water was near freezing, he did not seem to be bothered at all by it. Meanwhile, the Dunmer scooped up the coins he’d hidden and counted them. He chose to ignore the other.
,,Fifty-four Septims. That’s enough for the guards to buy themselves a couple of bottles.” He spoke, got up and raked one of the coins across the bars.

,,What are you making all that racket for, prisoner?!” A guard inquired in a gruff tone. He’d come to investigate the cause of the noise. The Dunmer looked the man up from head to toe.
,,Tell me, friend? Have you been doing well at your card-games?” He then chuckled. The Imperial’s brow furrowed.
,,None of your bussines, Dark Elf scum! Now keep it quiet down here!” He spat. He waved his arm across, pointing at the Altmer in the other cell.
,,Take an example from him. He’s been here since before I was born, and not even once did he cause trouble.” He added. The Dunmer smiled, revealing two incomplete rows of yellow-brownish teeth. Perhaps he’d once been popular with the ladies but in his current state, popularity would need some help.
,,Just as I thought. You’ve been losing badly, haven’t you? Well, I just happen to have the solution to that particular little problem of yours.” He whispered and flashed a coin. Instantly, the guard became twice as attentive.

,,How much do you have?” He asked in a coarse whisper of his own.
,,Twenty-seven in total.” The Dunmer lied. He then leaned in as close as he could without hitting the bars with his forehead. Thunder echoed through the prison complex.
,,Twenty-seven perfectly legitimate Septims. Twenty-seven shiny bits of gold and copper. They could be yours, so very easily….for a small favour, of course.” He offered. The guard licked his lips and let his eyes slip to the coins the Dunmer now held up in his hand, yet still out of his reach. He thought of going back to the barracks and taking the keys to the Dunmer’s cell, so he could take the money by force. But if he did that, his commander would have him fired and thrown into a cell instantly on the charge of accepting bribes. He would be better off listening to what the man had to offer.
,,I’m listening.”

The Dunmer leaned in even closer, resting his forehead against the bars.
,,Good, good. You see, I’m feeling rather…lonely. While he doesn’t cause any trouble, our friend over there is a poor conversationalist. A man of few words. So I was thinking, if you could help me out, perhaps provide me with….suitable company? I would be more than willing to help out a friend who is in need of a financial boost. Rub my back, rub yours?” He whispered. The guard looked into the crimson eyes of the prisoner, glanced at the Altmer, the coins and weighed the risk. If the Altmer talked, he would still be in trouble. But the gold-skinned fellow appeared to be sound asleep, impossible as it might sound with the thunder and lightning playing outside. The Imperial grinned, a greedy grin.
,,For a friend, why certainly. It would be a pleasure, no, an honour to help. In fact, I just seem to remember that prisonblock C is undergoing renovations. We need to relocate the current occupants. I was just wondering where to move some of them anyway. I’ll see if I can send over a…better conversationalist.” He said and held out his hand. The Dunmer grinned and handed over some of the coins.
,,Half now, half upon delivery.”

Posted by: The Metal Mallet Jan 5 2008, 08:33 AM

Hmm, I wonder what we're getting into here... You've got some excellent characters all ready though. That Dunmer is quite loathsome. I look forward to how this story (how many do you have going now!???) pans out.

Posted by: jack cloudy Jan 5 2008, 01:14 PM

How many do I have going? Err......I lost count. :embarrased: *this is the closest thing I could find to a blush smilie. The other had hearts all over*

Anyway, the main character was supposed to be the Altmer, though I think I could add in the Dunmer as well.....somehow.



Chapter 1.2

As the guard walked away, the Dunmer smirked.
,,And that is that. Oh so easy. Bet you are jealous now, aren’t you?” He gloated.
,,Not really. More like pity you.” The Altmer replied.
,,What?! You pity me?! You have lost your mind! I make the guards dance like puppets on their strings!” The Dunmer shouted, only to fall silent. He listened intently. Fortunately, all he heard was rambunctious laughter. The guards upstairs hadn’t heard. He let out a sigh of relief but still seethed within. Everything he’d tried in the past five years, every word, every insult, nothing had ever upset the Altmer. He’d even thrown rocks at him, and still nothing. All the Altmer had done was casually sweep them out of the air with his mind.
,,How long will they keep dancing for you when you run out of bribes?” The Altmer asked now. The Dunmer did not answer.

For half an hour, the guard did not return and the Dunmer grew restless.
,,The scumbag has run off with my money!” He hissed.
,,Perhaps not. Prisonblock C is all the way on the other side of the complex.” The Altmer said. The Dunmer actually felt his jaw drop. Now the Altmer was reassuring him? Then suspicion dawned on him.
,,How do you know the layout of the prison?” He asked warily. The Altmer actually went so far as to shrug. The pool of water had now creeped up to his ankles.
,,I’ve been places, done things.” Was his cryptical answer. Another fifteen minutes later, they heard heavy boots stomping on cold stone, accompanied by the lighter patter of bare feet. The Dunmer almost ran to the bars and peered down the dark corridor. There, a reflection on unpolished armour. The guard had returned.

,,Good evening again. This young lady here was delighted with the prospect of a conversation.” The guard grinned while he searched his keyring for the right key. The lady in question was less than amused however.
,,Conversation? You said I was going to a warmer place.” She said. The Dunmer laughed and beckoned with a hand.
,,Oh, but this place is warm, oh yes it is.” He chuckled.
,,I don’t see a fire.”

The guard sighed.
,,Oh, for creep’s sake. I forgot that there is only one cellkey on a keyring at a time. Hold on, I’ll chain her to one of these rings on the walls and go hunt for the right key to open the door.” He said and added the deed to his words. When he was gone again, the Dunmer leaned against the nearest wall.
,,You are a bit dumb, aren’t you?” He noted as he looked the new prisoner up.
,,Bah, one of those Bosmer treehuggers. I hate those. They always go crazy underground and end up having to be put down.” He then spat.
,,But, I’ll take whatever I can get.” He followed. The Bosmer’s eyes narrowed.
,,Don’t you dare touch me. I know fully well what you mean by warm and it’s not going to happen!” She snapped.

The Dunmer tried his best to look innocent, but ended up looking shifty instead.
,,Who, me? I wouldn’t dare to dream about…..Ok, I lied. I would and I will. So, what are you going to do about it, shorty? Call for help?” He leaned in closer and wished the bars weren’t there to stop him. But then again, he realized, if there weren’t any bars, he wouldn’t be here in the first place.
,,Who are you going to call?” He continued with a nasty smirk.
,,The guards? You’re a criminal, they couldn’t care less about what’s happening to you. Sleeping beauty over there? Oh, Almsivi forbid you spoil his divine rest. He would burn the flesh off of your bones in an instant.” He chuckled to himself at the last one.
,,Not really.” The Altmer interjected. The Dunmer stabbed a thumb at him.
,,See, he wouldn’t do a thing. I bet he would rather watch and enjoy the show.” He then gloated.
,,No, I would remove certain equipment from you with a well-aimed Heyat.” The Dunmer felt his jaw drop again. Now the altmer was actually threatening him? That had never happened before!

,,Wha?” He stammered. The Altmer finally opened his eyes and now looked directly at the Dunmer. Crimson eyes, the eyes of a Dunmer.
,,You’re harmless, when you’re alone. When you’re not, you’d better practice proper manners.” The Altmer warned. The Dunmer got a hold of himself.
,,Oh my, aren’t we feeling heroic today.” He mocked.
,,Well, I guess I’ll humour your request though, for now. How about we have a nice conversation while waiting for the guard to return?” He offered. The Bosmer looked away.
,,No thank you, I don’t need to hear about your exploits…pervert.”

The Dunmer pretended to be shocked.
,,Oh, you break my poor heart, little one.” He cried.
,,No, no, I wasn’t going to talk about my exploits. Rather, I felt the sudden urge to tell you more about this lovely place. Prisonblock V, the prisonblock closest to the barracks and with an entrance to the palace itself, something which required a lot of regulations to be changed. As such, it is no surprise that its construction was ordered by Jagar Tharn, that dreadfull Altmer who betrayed all of Tamriel in his mad bid for power. I mean, we all know he was a lunatic. A dangerous and evil lunatic. So evil, it makes me look like a saint!” He burst out laughing.
,,Hey, sleeper! You hear me?! Jagar Tharn was an Altmer!” The Altmer in the other cell closed his eyes again.
,,You’re simplifying things.” He said without a hint of anger. Finally, the guard returned. But he was not alone.

The Imperial looked unhappy and kept to the shadows. The other man was dressed in the uniform of the prison commander.
,,Relocation from Prisonblock C to prisonblock V.” He said as he unchained the Bosmer from the wall.
,,Relocation approved.” He continued in a formal tone. The guard licked his lips.
,,Sir, with all due respect. I could have done this by myself. There was no need for you to interrupt your activities and…” He fell silent as his commander laid eyes upon him.
,,Marcus, regulations clearly state that prisoners may never be moved by a single guard. We take precautions by denying mages their magicka, swordsmen their weapons, but we can’t deny a brawler his fists. Therefore, no matter how harmless the prisoner might seem, never less than two guards to move him or her.” He clearly stated. He sifted through his pockets and pulled out a key.
,,And therefore, miss. You will now occupy cell number three.” He continued.

The guard now stepped out of the shadows he’d subconsciously been hiding in.
,,But…sir….cell number two is larger….wouldn….” Again the commander laid eyes upon the guard and again the guard fell silent.
,,I know. Cell number one is unavailable due to its status as storeroom, leaving only two and three. But she’s not going into two.” He said, glanced at the Altmer to assure himself he wasn’t going to become hostile and inserted the key in the lock.
,,But…why?” Marcus almost pleaded. The Dunmer gave him a warning glare.
,,No woman, no money.” His eyes spoke. The commander spun around, his nostrils flaring in anger.
,,Stop questioning my motives, Marcus! Want to know why? Fine, I’ll tell you! Because at least he wasn’t put on trial for rape!” He snarled, pointing at the Altmer.
,,Unlike the ash-skin over there.” He added.
,,Now be quiet or I’ll put you on report.”

Posted by: blockhead Jan 5 2008, 02:29 PM

Interesting. Grittier, not quite your usual frenetic pace. Possibly more adult in content. Interesting.

While I like your non-fanfic SF story, it reassures me to see you start another Elder Scrolls story.

I seem to recall another story of yours that begins in a prison. It also had a bosmer woman in it.

Posted by: darkynd Jan 5 2008, 06:23 PM

After reading the first chapter, I'm definitely going to read more. I really do like this Dunmer chappy; he's perfectly detestable. The one, small complaint I have is that you occasionally use the same word too many times, too close together.

Posted by: Olen Jan 5 2008, 11:34 PM

Hmm this is good. And indeed quite a lot darker which I like.

You've managed to put a fair few hooks in too.

Posted by: The Metal Mallet Jan 6 2008, 01:18 AM

Things are moving nicely. It certainly has been a pleasure witnessing all the developments you've made in your writing. As the other posters have mentioned, this piece looks like it will be a bit darker and mature. I'm glad to see you trying out things. Hopefully this one will turn out well because of it.

Posted by: blockhead Jan 6 2008, 05:06 AM

QUOTE(darkynd @ Jan 5 2008, 12:23 PM)

Posted by: jack cloudy Jan 6 2008, 09:05 PM

Same here.....Oh, wait. That was kind of the whole point that sparked this discussion.
I'll try to work with it, but there are only so many words I know for cell. One, actually. Meh, as soon as they get out of there, I'm sure I'll get more words to work with. (What, you thought they were going to stay there and rot for the rest of their lives? That would make for a boring story.)

Anyway, time to end this chapter.



Chapter 1.3

The Bosmer was shoved in and the two guards left without a further word. Marcus glanced over his shoulder one last time, to see the Dunmer pocket his money with a venomous snarl. Once the two guards were truly gone, the Dunmer peered at the cell on the other side of the corridor.
,,Hey, you two! The least you can do is give me a good show!” He sneered. The Bosmer pressed her back against the bars and stared at the Altmer with wide open eyes.
,,No funny movements, I’m warning you!” She stammered. The Altmer opened one eye and peered back at her.
,,Relax, I’ve got better things to do than bother you. You can take the rag, if you so desire. Use it to warm your feet.” He replied.
,,Better things….like what?” The Bosmer asked after a short silence.
,,Waiting.”

The Dunmer returned to his own bed and lay down.
,,You two, if I hear or see either of you mock me, I’ll kill you! I’ve still got this broken bowl and a ceramic shard in your face really hurts!” He warned. The Altmer actually smiled. While he kept his silence, the motion was clear. He did not fear the Dunmer.
,,Argh! I hate this place! First I bribe a guard, and he doesn’t pull his end of the deal! Then, the damn woman gets thrown in sight, into a cell together with the most coldblooded elf I’ve ever seen! Seriously, I bet you wouldn’t bat an eye in a brothel surrounded by a hundred pretty ones and instead order some clear water, oh so calmly!”
,,Actually, I’ve done that before.” The Dunmer let out a sigh.
,,Oh great Almsivi, he’s done it before?! Is there anything that can crack his armour of calm?”

The Bosmer picked up the rag lying in a corner of her new cell and wrapped it around her feet. It did little to help the frostbite in her toes, but it was better than nothing. She next searched for a place to call her own and picked out a small alcove for it. If she huddled down there, she was as far away from the Dunmer as she could be while still keeping some distance on the Altmer. She glanced at her cellmate. The water had creeped beyond his ankles and was well on its way to his knees now. But still, he had not moved them. At least it had stopped raining. The pool would not grow any further.
,,What are you, some kind of monk?” She wondered out loud.
,,Not really, but I do practice some of their techniques.” The Bosmer looked at the pool again.
,,Like the fabled ‘taking a footbath in a pool of near-freezing water’?” She joked. The Altmer did not respond and so silence returned. It didn’t last.

,,Hey, girl! What did they arrest you for?” The Dunmer yelled. The Bosmer looked up from her feet and turned her back on the Dunmer so she faced the wall.
,,None of your business.” She called back.
,,Oh, come on. In this place, you’ll do anything to get the boredom gone. Some of us sleep for days, others like to talk. I’m the guy who likes to talk.” The Dunmer said.
,,Oh, really? You’re the type who likes to talk? It sure didn’t sound like it just a few minutes ago!”

The Dunmer looked hurt.
,,Oh, such harsh accusations! You are a feisty one, aren’t you?” He laughed. The Bosmer wrinkled her nose.
,,Hmph, be glad I didn’t get stuck in your cell. Any guy who tries to do something funny to me gets one foot to the face, the other to the knee and then both of them to the windpipe.” She claimed.
,,You trained?” The Altmer asked. The Bosmer turned to him somewhat eagerly. At least he seemed to be decent so far.
,,A little. I learned some things from monks. The physical things, not the mental. I’ve never been able to understand why anyone would willingly suffer discomfort.” She answered. The Altmer nodded and lay still. Figuring he was dozing off, the Bosmer decided it would be relatively safe to take a nap of her own. But first, she had things to do.

She stepped out of her alcove and peered at the Dunmer. He wasn’t looking at her, good. She tiptoed over to the bars and crouched down.
,,I’m sure I heard some feet….there it is.” In one swift motion, she reached out between the bars, closed her fingers around something and pulled back. She got up and tiptoed back to the alcove. She stole a glance over her shoulder as she did so. The Dunmer hadn’t noticed a thing.
,,I don’t think I’d be able to endure his response to this.” She thought as she opened her hands. The rat was still kicking weakly with its feet. She looked on with a hint of disgust as the small creature tried to draw breath through its crushed throat. When it lay still, she slowly brought it up to her face.
,,Ugh. I don’t want to know what this one has been rolling around in.” She grimaced as she picked up its scent.

She woke up an unknown number of hours later. Rubbing her still sleepy eyes with one hand, she wondered where she was. Then she remembered and her gaze shot to the sleeping form of the Altmer. Except, he wasn’t asleep, nor was he where she’d expected him to be. Instead of lying in the corner on the other side of their cell, he was standing right next to her.
,,Ee….” She began but the Altmer quickly stifled her voice by putting his hand over her mouth.
,,Hush. Something’s going on.” He whispered and pointed up at the ceiling with his free hand. She looked up, after pulling her face away from him, but there was nothing to see but cold rock.
,,Well, of course there isn’t. It’s a ceiling.” She scolded herself. She peeked her ears. Had she heard something?

One glance at the Altmer told her he heard something as well.
,,I’d rather not wake the Dunmer over there, so keep your voice down.” The Altmer advised. The Bosmer nodded. The Altmer looked at the hand he’d used to cover her mouth and rubbed it off on the stone walls.
,,Bit your tongue?” He asked. She chose to ignore the comment.
,,So, what’s going on?” She whispered back. The Altmer stepped into the alcove which made her heart skip a beat. She held her breath, releasing it only after she’d realized that he barely noticed her.
,,It’s the deepest part of the night, but someone is with the guards upstairs, talking.” He said. A corner of his mouth twitched upwards.
,,This might be it.”

Posted by: Olen Jan 6 2008, 11:09 PM

The mystery deepens. This is good it feels as if things are just about to get going.

That Altmer (he hasn't got a name even) is certainly an enigma.

Posted by: The Metal Mallet Jan 7 2008, 03:42 AM

Dun dun dun. My anticipation is rising! Hopefully I don't explode...

Posted by: jack cloudy Jan 7 2008, 09:26 PM

Here, Mallet. Let me throw some cold water on your fuse. We don't want spontaneous human combustion, do we?

And Olen, I noticed that I've been incredibly slow with names. Meh, I think it fits. The Dunmer is simply too mean to care, the Altmer won't ever tell his on his own and the Bosmer, she was occupied with other worries. So, let's continue, shall we?


Chapter 2: Gauntlet

The voices dimmed for a second. With the creak of well-used but poorly maintained hinges, the door leading up to the barracks was opened. Neither the Bosmer nor the Altmer could see it open, but in the latter’s case, he’d heard it open and close so often that he would recognize that sound anywhere. Several boots could be heard loudly descending the short flight of stairs, along with a pair of softer footsteps, like someone wearing slippers.
,,I think we should go further into the complex.” A male’s voice said.
,,No, there’s no need. There are twelve guards in the room we just came from, all fully armed, fully awake and facing the entrance with their swords out. What could get past them?” A second voice countered.
,,My liege?” A third voice, female this time.
,,I leave it all in your hands, captain. Don’t mind me, just take care of this according to your best judgement.” A fourth voice, male again and slightly croaking.
,,Alright, we’ll hide in one of the cells here.” The female decided.

The Altmer edged deeper into the alcove.
,,I need you to go sit in plain sight. Don’t let anyone know I’m here.” He whispered urgently. The Bosmer looked up at him with a frown.
,,Why me? If you think they’re dangerous and you’re planning to sacrifice me, no way.” She whispered back. The Altmer gave her a sudden push and before she knew it, she was kneeling on the floor in the center of her cell. She suppressed a yelp as her knee scraped against the rough floor.
,,No one will lay hands on you, I promise.” The Altmer said behind her. She looked at him, but he had vanished.
,,What, where did you go?”

She looked at the bars. The unknown visitors strode into view. First came a male with dark skin, bearing a fresh torch. She held her head sideways a little. When he turned to her, she concluded that he had indeed dark skin, it wasn’t merely the relative darkness of the prison fooling her eyes.
,,I’ve never seen something like him. Where’s he from?” She stammered.
,,This one’s occupied. A single girl.” The man said. The Bosmer now also noticed the light cast by the torch reflecting on a suit of armour.
,,layered bands of metal that overlap, I’ve never seen a suit of armour like this before. The man who arrested me at the park didn’t wear something like this.” She observed. She pulled a whimsical smile. The man tensed as he saw this and his free hand skipped to the hilt of a sword at his side. When he noticed she didn’t take any action, he relaxed again.
,,Doesn’t matter. Anyone coming through the door can see it from the top of the stairs, we don’t want it.” The female voice said, still out of her sight.

The Bosmer pulled her legs under her and shifted into a more comfortable position. Perhaps if she walked up to the bars, she could see the other visitors. But the dark man looked as if he would skewer her just for that. He was awefully nervous, she could practically smell him sweat, even from where she was. She licked her lips. Somehow, the scent made her thirsty. The man walked up to her celldoor and pulled at it.
,,Locked, fortunately. Alright, I’ll check the other.” He said and turned his back on her.
,,Also occupied. Dunmer, looks like a wreck. There are further cells down the corridor, I assume. But that would be too far, right captain?” He spoke.

It was the female who replied.
,,Must be the one in charge of the group.” The Bosmer concluded.
,,Yes, if we stay here, we can listen to the outcome of the fight above. There is no way out of the prison but through the door we just used. If we hide further and somehow, the impossible happens, our assailants only need to barricade this door and starve us out. At least we’ll know how the odds are if we stay close.” The female reasoned out loud.
,,Alright, open the cell. We don’t have the keys, so just stick your sword in the lock and wrench it open. “She then ordered the dark man.
,,Whatever you say, madam. But the pricetag for fixing this sharp beauty will be yours to pay.” The man answered and unsheathed his sword. The tone in which he’d said it though made it clear he was merely joking.

,,Katana. Sharp, light, but fragile. Not suited for prolonged engagements. Not suited against heavy armour either.” The Bosmer looked to where the voice had come from, but the Altmer was nowhere to be seen.
,,He can turn invisible? But…he’s not underwater.” She shook off her confusion and instead got up when she heard the lock crack. She moved in closer to get a better look. She wouldn’t miss the chance to see the Dunmer get roughed up by these knights or whatever they were. As if on cue, the Dunmer woke up from the noise. He looked up with a wide open mouth as his unexpected and armed guest tucked a toe behind one of the bars and pulled the door open, never relinquishing his hold on either sword or torch. He grinned, revealing his rotten teeth in all their glory.
,,Oh, I can’t believe my eyes. A hero has come to resque me!” He said and batted away a tear. The Bosmer on the other side sighed.
,,What a drama-actor.” She thought.

The dark man entered the cell and pointed his sword, the katana, directly at the Dunmer’s throat.
,,Shut up, unless you want to see your blood spilled on the floor. I’m no hero and I’m not here to resque anyone….” He hissed quite loud.
,,Anyone?” The croaking voice asked, sounding quite amused. The Bosmer tilted her head to the right and now she could see him. He was an old man, dressed in a nightgown and indeed wearing slippers almost as pale as she was, which said a lot, with few strands of snowwhite hair on an otherwise bald head. His face was deformed by wrinkles, his mouth was slightly opened as he breathed heavily from the fatigue merely standing there gave him. But his eyes seemed to draw her in. There was something behind them, something that she couldn’t describe.

The dark man didn’t move from where he was standing, but the way his shoulders sagged made it obvious that he felt embarrassed.
,,Except you, my liege. My apologies, please forgive me.” He said sheepishly. The old man laughed and coughed.
,,No, you must forgive an old man his ill-timed humour. Anyway, I’m going to enter the cell now. Please keep an eye on the prisoner.” He chuckled. His chuckling died down as a cacophony of noise erupted from the barracks.
,,There they are! Get them! We prison guards may be the lowest of the low, but we’ll show them that we have the true Legion spirit!” A voice howled, somewhat muffled by the walls. The Bosmer gasped. That was the voice of the commander who had placed her in this cell. She involuntarily stepped back in surprise at her own response. She then lowered her head and closed her eyes.
,,Please, let him be safe. He doesn’t know it, but I am gratefull for not being put together with that creep over there.” She prayed.

She heard an odd roar and redoubled her efforts, though she had no idea which god to pray to. Would her god save a heathen man from a faraway land?
,,Haha!” Her eyes shot open at the sudden laugh and she ran back to the bars to see. She couldn’t believe what she saw. The Dunmer had thrown a loose brick at the Redguard’s head and knocked him out. Now he’d jumped out into the corridor and grabbed the old man by the neck. He held a broken shard of ceramic at the man’s throat. The dark man’s companions, both wearing the same armour as him, drew two more katanas but were unable to do anything without endangering the old man.
,,Ok, now drop those butterknifes or the old coot gets it!” The Dunmer shouted. He was grinning even more than before.
,,You can’t do this! It will be your own doom, fiend! Kill the man, and we kill you. Surrender, and we might let you live.” The woman spat. The Dunmer laughed again.
,,Oh, really? But if I’m not mistaken, this fetcher here is very important. You won’t lift a finger as long as I can slit his throat just like that.” He raised the ceramic shard.
,,Or were you thinking of healing him with a spell? I could just as easily plunge it into his eyeball directly into his brain. Good spell that can fix that!”

,,What are you doing?!” The Bosmer shouted suddenly. All, except the unconscious dark man, looked at her. The Dunmer laughed. It gave her the shivers, how that laugh grated on the ears.
,,Nothing special. I’m just getting out of here, one way or another. Say, girl. You can come with me of course. I’m sure they’ll let you. They’ll do anything. Of course, I am doing you a favour here and favours are meant to be repayed.” He replied. The girl shook her head, then stopped the motion. It would be a way out of this place. She’d only been here for a week or two, but who knew how much longer it would be if she didn’t take the chance. Surely the price would be worth it. He winked, and she made her decision.
,,No way! I’m not selling my body to anyone for anything! Why don’t you just drop dead and rot?!” Her tirade was cut off with another roar. The two warriors looked at the door for a moment. There were no further commands, or battlecries. Only, silence.

The Dunmer looked disappointed.
,,Ah, I was giving you a great chance. Oh well, plenty of girls in the outside world, prettier even. Heh, now where were we? Oh yes, you two were going to drop those swords and the….” He cut himself off.
,,Hey, where did the silent guy go?” He then asked out loud. Before he could say anything else, he simply sank to the floor, dragging the old man with him due to his weight. The shard cut into the man’s cheek, but as if by miracle, it missed his eye.

There was an incredibly loud bang. Then a second bang, but this one was so soft it could barely be heard. The banging continued.
,,This will hold, for a while.” The captain had rushed over to help the old man back onto his feet while her companion put the dark man onto his shoulder. Only the Bosmer wasn’t occupied with anything so only she looked at the door where the banging was coming from. To her surprise, the Altmer was standing there, and the door was wrapped in some kind of green light.
,,How did you get there…the cell is locked!” She stammered. The Altmer turned to her and both corners of his mouth twitched upward just a bit.
,,I’ve been places, done things.” He answered in his usual cryptic way. He glanced at the door for a moment, which now seemed to consist of nothing but cracks. The strange light now seemed to be the only thing that kept the door from buckling inwards.

The Altmer wandered over to the door of her cell. The two warriors were now watching him intently. Neither was willing to just drop their companion and draw his or her sword though.
,,Identify yourself, stranger. Glenroy, arrest him!” The captain ordered. The Altmer ran a quick hand across the lock on the bosmer’s celldoor before turning around and calmly looking down on Glenroy’s brandished sword.
,,For the peace of your mind, I’d rather not tell. And please, young man. Lower your sword. I am neither an enemy nor someone you should waste such a fine blade on.” He then shifted his gaze to the old man. The two locked eyes. Simultaneously, recognition dawned on the Altmer’s face while the old man looked stricken.
,,It has been a long time, my liege. I assume you still remember me?” The Altmer said solemnly and bowed. The old man however, clutched his chest as his heart began to race in the grips of a growing panic.
,,You!…It’s you…But you were dead!”




OOC: As you can see, this is just another Oblivion main quest fic. However, I'm going to follow Redsrock's example and change things so much, that the main quest is little more than a guideline. Here are the changes we have so far.
1: Two prisoners. (The Dunmer doesn't count, is unconscious and we all now know who he is, don't we? )
2: One of the prisoners is not a know-nothing weakling. He seems to know a lot and has plenty of power.
3: The Emperor is as unprepared as can be. He has literally been dragged out of his bed, as the nightgown shows.
4: The Blades are not very concerned at all, till stuff starts happening one bad thing after another.

Posted by: Olen Jan 8 2008, 12:34 AM

The lack of names wasn't a criticism, it works well. It adds drama to the enigmatic altmer and I had guessed who the dunmer was and the bosmer hasn't needed one yet.

I like the slightly more realistic opening - why would there be a secret passage in a prison? And if they could get him there why not just cut down from the bridge to the prison to escape? And why... Yea the oblivion plot doesn't stand too much scrutiny.

I'll be interested to see how you handle this one.

I also have a slight suspicion of who the altmer might be...

Posted by: Lord Revan Jan 8 2008, 01:17 AM

Oh, yeah, we all are familiar with *consultes audio records* Valen Dreth! Valen Dreth!

Mister "I'll sleep with your wife!" Valen Dreth is one of the biggest videogame blow-hards I've had the misfortune to hear rants from. As for climbing down the very steep hill, Uriel's pretty dang old if you haven't noticed and there's no path for old men to be taking an afternoon stroll.

And then they'd have no cover, in plain sight of anyone watching, and yeah, so secret passage that only they are supposed to know is somewhat better than forcing the elderly guy to climb down a 80 degree slope and chance archers or horsemen running them down....... plus, everyone would know they we there.

Sorry Blockhead, I just have a habit of poking holes in plans like that. I also believe I know who you're taking about, and I won't spew it all out like I did with Turula.

Posted by: blockhead Jan 8 2008, 02:37 AM

QUOTE(Lord Revan @ Jan 7 2008, 07:17 PM)

I also believe I know who you're taking about, and I won't spew it all out like I did with Turula.

Posted by: Lord Revan Jan 8 2008, 03:25 AM

Woops, I meant for that last comment to be for Olen. :evil:

Posted by: jack cloudy Jan 8 2008, 09:42 PM

This is obviously a new story. Long updates, one every day. It's a bit sad how things start to slow down once you get past the prologue. Ah well.


Chapter 2.2


The others now regarded the Altmer with even more open confusion than they already had.
,,Dead?” The man known as Glenroy mumbled and slightly lowered his sword. The Bosmer took her eyes off the Altmer for a moment to look at him. He wasn’t as dark as the dark man.
,,Maybe the dark man is special? A warriorpriest? Does he rub himself in with mud?” She wondered. The green seal on the door began to ring. The Altmer turned to it.
,,Ah, that’s a bit sooner than I thought.” He noted before turning back to the old man. He was still bleeding from the cut on his cheek, but it appeared that the wound would close on its own soon enough.
,,My liege, I am here to bring you an offer.” The Altmer said.

,,An…offer? I will never accept it, never!” The old man replied near instantaneously. Even though he was clearly afraid, his voice was even and strong. Glenroy raised his katana again and took one step closer to the Altmer.
,,You’ve heard him. Now back into….wha?!” The warrior’s eyes tracked the blade which had broken from the hilt.
,,I told you it would be a waste of a fine sword.” The Altmer dryly commented. The seal’s ringing became louder and now approached the point where they would have to yell to get over the sound. Then, the ringing was cut off abruptly, to be replaced with a deafening roar.

The Altmer turned back to the door slowly. The seal had fallen and the door had blown outward in a hail of sharp woodfragments that peppered the opposite wall. Something came through, first in the form of a monstrous scaled arm with fingers that ended in sharp talons as large as a sword. The Altmer began to move towards it with a calm that seemed highly inapropiate next to what was coming through. Everyone else was on the verge of running, safe for the old man. The Bosmer did run, to the far end of her cell. Only an arm could be seen, but even that was already larger than the Altmer, who wasn’t a short person himself. Its presense was overwhelming.

A head followed. Even larger than the talons, it was a long and narrow wedge. A wedge with two rows of teeth that glistened with fresh blood. The monster let out another roar as it gripped both sides of the doorframe and pushed, cracking the walls and widening the gap. The Altmer reached the bottom of the stairs where he stopped, completely at ease. Once it was wide enough, the creature stepped through with unexpected grace and turned to eye Altmer who was closest. It opened its mouth for another roar, when the Altmer calmly raised a single hand.
,,Stasis hold.”

Green bands formed out of thin air and wrapped around every joint. The jaws snapped shut again, forced together by one of the bands. The monster flared the nostrils at the tip of its beak, emitting the sound of a kettle on a fire. Its tail sweeped from side to side furiously, but it was the only appendage that could move. Every other part of its body had effectively been immobilized by the bands, no matter how hard it strained to break them. The Altmer observed his handywork for a moment, adding a second layer of the green bands wherever he deemed it necessary, before turning back to the old man.
,,My liege, please hear me out. This here, is a Daedroth, a being summoned from Oblivion. It has the power to take down scores of soldiers with little difficulty, as the unfortunate prison guards found out. Its claws can cut steel, its jaws can crush Ebony, its skin is thicker than a Legionaire’s shield and if even that wasn’t enough, it has a modest magicka offensive as well. I give your Blades slim odds of surviving in battle against it, even now, when it is nearly immobilized.” He said.

He walked back to the celldoor he’d brushed his hand against earlier. The Bosmer saw him reemerge and carefully moved to the bars. When she looked to the right and saw the Daedroth for the first time in its full glory, she felt her heart skip a beat.
,,What’s that…thing? I hope you rest well, commander whose name I don’t know.”

,,Therefore, I’m granting you a choice. You can choose to reject my offer, in which case I will stand aside as you and your followers attempt to pass the Daedroth. If you do however, and if you somehow manage, remember that whenever there is a Daedroth, there is a supremely powerful conjurer nearby.” He began. His hands folded around the doorbolt and he pulled. The door opened.
,,My offer, is a greater chance at survival. When Jagar Tharn ordered this prisonblock to be constructed, he demanded several additional features. One of them is that the walls are not lined with silver, which means that the magicka in this block is not drained. As such, spells are not inhibited, which I’m sure you have already noticed. The other feature, is a connection to Cyrodiil’s foundations. From there, one can leave the city undetected.” He continued.

,,Why would I have any desire to leave the city? So you can do as you please?” The old man asked in a hostile tone. He’d gotten over his first shock and was now in firm control of himself. The Altmer frowned, the first sign of irritation he’d shown.
,,Yes, so I can do as I please! That, and for your own good!”

,,Girl, could you be so kind and kick the backside of the alcove? There is a small crack roughly twenty centimetres from the floor, on the left side, barely visible if you know where to look. Kick there, as hard as you can.” He asked the Bosmer. His frown had fled as sudden as it came and he now wore his expression of stoic calm. She simply stared at him.
,,You knock out the greyskin from a distance. You turn invisible without water. You exit this cell without opening the door. You can put some sort of barrier on a door and use the same thing to chain that monster over there. You can do all that and you’re asking me to kick a crack? What good would that do?” She replied and shrugged.
,,Why don’t you just kill it and have us leave through the front door? It doesn’t seem as if there’s anything beyond your limits.” She added.

The Altmer shook his head.
,,I do have limits. A Daedroth perhaps isn’t one of them. But, there are reasons why the front door right now is not in our best interests.” He explained.
,,The conjurer.” Someone realized.
,,The dark priest, he’s conscious.” The Bosmer yelped. The dark man gave her a wry grin.
,,I hate to disappoint you, beauty. I am no priest.” He said as he felt his jaw. His face was rather sore, but he knew that his helmet had prevented any permanent and more serious injuries.
,,Wouldn’t want to either. I was not made to live a life without a warm heart that beats together with mine.” He added and flashed a wink at her.
,,Hey! Don’t get the wrong idea! I may have been worried about you, but I’m not interested!” The girl pointed out. She strode to the alcove and gave a swift kick to the place where the Altmer’s tiny crack should be.
,,In fact, I think I’m just going to give this a try. It’s not as if this situation can get any more awkward.” She shouted as she did so. The alcove began to rumble and she jumped back. The whole wall sank into the floor, much to her surprise.

,,After performing research at the Dwemer fort of Dragon’s gate in Hammerfell, Tharn managed to develop the mechanism you just saw in action. From here, we can enter the foundations of the city. Only archeologists know of this place, and they only operate on the far side of it.” The Altmer said.
,,I repeat, why would we want to follow you? You don’t hold much value to me except to further your plans.” The old man interrupted. The warriors flocked around him. Glenroy had picked up the fallen torch and now brandished it instead of his sword. Again the Altmer frowned.
,,Exactly, my liege. Your only value is to further my plans. But, your continued existence is a part of them. So there. That’s why I am willing to help. I won’t give you my word for you won’t accept it. But know this. If you decide to take me up on my offer, I will guide you through this night as well as I can.” He hissed. Without wasting any further words, he entered the cell and moved to the rough tunnel that had been hidden behind the alcove.
,,Let’s go, girl. I have the feeling your crime was one of ignorance rather than malice and as such, I am granting you your freedom.” He said to the Bosmer.

Once the two elves had departed, the Blades and the old man looked at the Daedroth. The titanic creature was still struggling against its bonds, to no avail.
,,Captain?” The dark man asked.
,,I am out of options, Baurus. My liege?” The captain turned to the old man in return.
,,To choose between certain death or the guidance of one who has betrayed me before in the most bitter way imaginable. Neither choice appeals to me.” The old man replied. He shook his wrinkled head.
,,Yet, I’d rather choose to follow him once more and trust in the guidance of the Divines, than jump into those hungry maws like a fool. We will follow him, captain. But we will watch him closely.” He decided after a moment of silent debate. He entered the cell and stopped at the alcove.
,,To think I would actually follow his advice once more. The Divines have mysterious ways.” He muttered.

Baurus and the captain followed, but Glenroy remained behind for a moment. He kept one eye on the Daedroth at all times, which stared at him with one of its own. The Blade shivered. He could almost feel the raw hate that foul beast exuded.
,,Hey! What about the Dunmer! Shouldn’t we kill him?!” Glenroy shouted. Baurus reemerged from the tunnel for one moment.
,,Don’t push your luck with that monstrosity nearby, Glenroy! Let it eat him, if it’s hungry. That would be a more fitting end than a sword, if you ask me!” He called back. Glenroy took one last glance at the unconscious Dunmer before setting off after his companions in a quick run.


OOC: More changes. Ok, only one this time I can think of.
The Emperor is not all 'you're the chosen one, I have seen you in my dreams!' Nope, he actually takes the time to wonder if getting eaten by a Daedroth wouldn't be a better idea. Man, I love this thing.

Posted by: Gaius Maximus Jan 8 2008, 10:18 PM

Nice. I've found this much better - and darker - than the original Oblivion beginning... Plus, I'm still bugged by the Altmer's identity. I've had a couple of guesses, most oddest ones too.

First, I thought he maybe was the Champion from Arena (I don't know the exact date in which it happened, but if Uriel was old enough to live up to it, then an Elf would be more than so). He did seem to know an awful lot about Jagar. Then, when the Emperor mentioned betrayal, I thought of the Nerevarine for some reason, since ofall the choices I managed to think of, he seemed to be the one most likely to betray the Emperor... Yet the whole thing about 'following him once more' made me reconsider.

For whatever reason, I can only think of the Altmer as one of the protagonists from TES games...

Posted by: Lord Revan Jan 8 2008, 10:48 PM

Arena was forty years before Oblivion, Uriel was Emporoer at the time, so yes, he was alive then. What can I say? I pay attention to the text during the loading screens.

Posted by: Olen Jan 8 2008, 11:39 PM

I'm certain I know who it is now and I like Very very nice one. I might even go as far as delcious though I will be fascinated to see it the emperor survives or not.

Still I won't say anything... except that the idea is really good and I want more.

Nice way to deal with the dunmer too, I wander whether we'll see more of him.

Posted by: The Metal Mallet Jan 9 2008, 08:13 AM

The changes are proving to be interesting ones. Keep em comin'!

Posted by: Agent Griff Jan 9 2008, 06:37 PM

I've read your updates and thus far this fic seems to be an extremely promising one. I especially like the Altmer, calm and collected but doesn't take any sh*t from anyone, even the Emperor. Well, at least he doesn't when it actually matters. That Dunmer mocking him was just child-play I suppose. Keep it up!

Posted by: jack cloudy Jan 9 2008, 09:57 PM

Chapter 2.3


The tunnel was dark, rough rock on all sides. There were no cobwebs, no insects scittering about. To the Bosmer, the place also had an unpleasant scent. It smelled dead, though not in a form she was familiar with. The tunnel also wasn’t very high and the Altmer practically had to crawl. Even she had to bend down a bit. Whatever light there came from the direction of the prison was soon lost as they descended deeper. Neither said a word at first though in the end, the silence became simply unbearable.
,,Umm…can I ask you something?” The Bosmer spoke up as she carefully brushed away a few sharper rocks that threatened to open her knees.
,,You can ask, but I don’t know if I can answer.” The Altmer replied. The girl tilted her head to one side and wondered if she should feel discouraged by that.
,,What I’ve been thinking about….I’ve been thinking about a lot actually. But one thing is, how long have you been in prison?” She asked.
,,A couple of years.”

,,And how long have you known about this escape route?” She pressed on.
,,Roughly the same couple of years.” She rose her head in surprise and hit the ceiling.
,,Ow!…But if you knew about it all that time, then why didn’t you use it?” She asked while rubbing her head.
,,I should remember to keep down till I can actually see a ceiling.”
,,I did use it three times before, to see if it was still open. I always returned.” The Altmer revealed. He didn’t stop to see if she was injured badly, which somewhat annoyed her. Then there was the fact that none of his answers actually explained a thing, other than that he was strange.
,,But why?” She asked with rising frustration.
,,As I said earlier, I was waiting.”

The Bosmer didn’t fire her next question right away. Instead she tried to piece together the clues he’d been willing to drop. So he’d been waiting and he’d kept a secret escape route at hand all the time. But now he was using it and she had the distinct feeling that this time, he would not return to his cell.
,,You were waiting for the old man.” She concluded.
,,True.” The Altmer admitted. She cherished her little victory at getting one answer that wasn’t too cryptic. But then, she realized that she still didn’t know why he had been waiting for the old man.
,,So, who is he and how did you know he would be coming?”

She thought she was beginning to see the outlines of her hands. Were they getting closer to the other end?
,,That man is Uriel Septim, the Emperor of Tamriel. Apart from being a political leader, he also has another equally important position. As all men with power, he has enemies and assassination attempts are not uncommon. Most of these attempts never even get past the front doors of his palace and those that do, are usually stopped in the main hall. Very rarely though, an assassin or group of assassins manages to elude all security. If this is found out, the Emperor relocates to a hiding place along with several elite guards. This hiding place is unsurprisingly, the prison. After all, why would an Emperor surround himself with cutthroats, smugglers and thieves willingly? No one would search for him there.” The Altmer said. It was the most he’d said to her up to now.
,,Except you. You didn’t even search for him, you just waited for him to come. Why?” The Bosmer asked next. She could see her hands clearly now. They had to be getting close to an exit.

,,Because, if there is an opposition out there capable of forcing the Emperor to hide, that opposition is powerful enough to slay him if he does not hide well enough. And that, is something which must be prevented at all costs.”
,,But what if he decides to dance with that Daedroth or whatever you called it? You know you practically abandoned him back there. He's old, he could be senile.” She asked, despite feeling that this was a question he would not answer willingly.
,,I have my reasons.” Was all he said. Just as she’d thought.

The Altmer reached the end of the tunnel and stood up straight. The Bosmer crawled out herself and skipped to his side. They were in a room made of what looked a lot like white marble, except it was littered with tiny dents and cracks. The floors, the walls, even the ceiling was made of the white material. It looked majestic and ancient at the same time. The light she’d noticed as they crawled through the tunnel turned out to be the work of a good dozen torches that were placed in their holders on the walls.
,,Oh, look. A door.” The Bosmer said and planned to walk towards it but the Altmer brusquely grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her back.
,,Don’t move.” He whispered urgently.

She looked at him but didn’t voice her question. He’d whispered, so he probably wanted her to stay quiet and from what she’d seen already, doing whatever he told her to do was by far the healthiest course of action. She did not want to end up tied by scores of shimmering green bands squeezing on her joints. He motioned for her to stay at the tunnel and be ready to crawl through it. She nodded that she understood his instructions but she did not comprehend the reason behind them. Nevertheless, she crouched down and watched as he calmly walked forward, seemingly completely at ease and with no eye for his surroundings whatsoever. She knew it was a false impression though. He’d walked just like that when the Daedroth burst the door.

Posted by: The Metal Mallet Jan 10 2008, 07:33 AM

There are assassins in here no doubt! That's just my speculation though. You might throw in a crazy twist, like the Altmer dies and everyone loses! It'd be a short story, but an amusing one nonetheless!

Of course, I'd rather it be longer than that. So I'll wait and see what happens...

Posted by: Olen Jan 10 2008, 12:38 PM

Assassins or traps... I always wandered about the sunteranian parts of the imperial city - there must be a reason noone uses them. They looked ok apart from being underground and in need of a little work...

And the Bosmer isn't the only one who wants to know why the altmers doing what he is.

Good stuff.

Posted by: jack cloudy Jan 11 2008, 09:50 PM

I've got an idea for why it is abandoned, but I won't place it in this update. First we need to deal with our current room.


Chapter 2.4



The Altmer kept walking till he reached the door, which consisted of several bronze bars. Once there, he looked to his left and then reached for the torch which hung there. His fingertips just touched the wood, when he suddenly swung down his hand and made a grabbing motion.
,,Stasis hold.” He chanted and just like last time, shimmering green bands manifested, only this time they crawlded chaotically through the air under the Altmer’s hand. The air crackled and became distorted. The Distortion became more solid, eventually forming into a man, an Imperial, garbed in a red robe. The bands shot to the joints and clenched around them. Another green band flowed from the Altmer’s hand, which he’d apparently put on the invisible man’s shoulder. This last band settled around his head and covered the mouth.
,,Just as I thought. You can come back out now.”

The Bosmer walked up to the couple, though she stopped while still three large steps away. The robed man struggled against the bands but they were so rigid, only his strained expression was any indication of the silent battle being fought.
,,Why don’t you just relax? If a five metres tall Daedroth can’t break these, then how do you think you can?” She found herself speak up. The Altmer cocked an eyebrow and for a moment she was afraid he would berate her. Instead, he merely looked over towards the tunnel they’d come from. He then smiled.
,,I see that you have made the right choice, my liege.” He said.

The Emperor coughed and tried to brush the dust off of his nightgown. He only managed to create even larger smears so in the end he gave up.
,,It is not the right choice, merely the better of two bad choices.” He replied formally.
,,Well then, I see you have managed to restrain a would-be assassin. Would you mind to ask him why he’s after me?” He asked next, indicating the much younger Imperial who had ceased his struggle by now. The Altmer flicked a finger and the band covering the mouth dissipated.
,,Would you mind to tell us?” He asked. The smile he wore was rather unnerving, even moreso since it clearly wasn’t one of amusement.

,,How….how did you know I was there? I won’t tell anything….I can’t tell anything!” The captive instead stammered. Glenroy waved his torch threateningly under the man’s nose. Fortunately for said noise, the flame had been stifled by the dust during his crawl through the tunnel. Glenroy noticed this himself and he swiftly corrected the flaw by taking one of the torches hanging on the walls.
,,You were asked a question! If you value your face, you’d better talk.” He hissed venomously. The Altmer waved the Blade off.
,,Would you mind? I believe I was the one conducting this interrogation.” He said calmly.
,,And what makes you think you can do it better than I can?” Glenroy inquired in a voice that was a mixture between hostility and grudging respect.
,,For one thing, my tools are somewhat more subtle than a burning piece of wood.” Was the Altmer’s answer.

,,Anyway, I’ll answer your question and you will ask one of mine. Just one question.” He continued against the prisoner.
,,The answer to yours is simple. There are burning torches hanging on the walls and the dust is displaced where you stand. Both are items you should not encounter in an ancient and abandoned complex. As it is, I might not have noticed a thing if you hadn’t placed those torches here. I can understand that the door must be visible in order to act as bait but still, the way you do this. Utterly inprofesional. Your plan was simple, flawed, foolish and seriously lacking any worthy thought whatsoever. Being invisible does not mean you no longer have any effect on your surroundings.” The smile vanished and he stood taller, forcing the Imperial to twist his neck back in order to see his eyes.
,,Now as for my question. Beyond the Emperor, what else are you after?” He asked.

The Imperial shook his head. His skin glistened with cold sweat.
,,I won’t tell! I…” A flick of a gold-skinned hand and the Imperial’s eyes half-closed.
,,I…..We….we must find….and destroy….the Drago…” He never finished the sentence before his eyes closed completely and his head hung down. The Altmer felt for the man’s throat before releasing the bands. The Imperial slumped over on the floor, clearly dead.
,,Now that was usefull! You switch questions to something completely useless and you kill him before he can answer!” Glenroy complained. Baurus however, frowned.
,,Hmm, kill the Dragon? What is he, some kind of lunatic? After years of being unbreachable, a band of fanatics manages to penetrate the palace’s security? I find that hard to believe.” He grunted. The Altmer shook his head.
,,I did not kill him.”

,,Then who did?” The Bosmer wanted to know. Again the Altmer shook his head.
,,Hard to say. I assume that the cause of death was a form of hypnosis. If forced to reveal any sensitive information, he will start to experience extreme stress and eventually suffer a heartattack. As for this question being useless, we already know they are after our liege. The why is irrelevant. Their other plans however, are. If we know their other plans, we can deduce why the Emperor is at threat as well.” He answered.
,,So, you believe there is more behind this? Fanatics don’t kill off their own, not by hypnosis anyway.” The Captain interjected.
,,I have some theories. Yet at the moment, they are still only theories.” The Altmer replied. He searched the dead man, finding a simple dagger and an ancient key.

,,If that key fits on the door, it means we were supposed to fight him.” Baurus observed.
,,Bait?” The Captain wondered. She drew her sword and motioned the other two Blades to do the same.
,,If this one was bait, there must be more. It would make sense. Being invisible and armed only with a dagger, he might have managed to take down one of us, but never more. The Emperor would still be safe as we make sure to guard him with our own bodies. Seeing how this one is so weak, we might assume that he was merely placed there as a contingency to deal with a lone survivor or a prisoner making his escape in the confusion. A killer of witnesses. We might come to believe that he’s the only one and lower our guard.” She reasoned. The door swung open with a shriek of half-rusted hinges.

,,And since there are no more torches further up ahead, we might conclude that he really is the only one.” The Altmer finished.
,,I appreciate all the analyzing, but I’m afraid I lack the stamina to keep standing forever. Let us move on till we reach safety. And till then, no sword shall be sheathed.” The Emperor decided. The Altmer nodded.
,,As you wish, my liege.”

They moved through the door in an orderly line. Glenroy came first, brandishing his torch which was the only source of light. The Altmer followed next. Then came Baurus and the Captain who flanked the Emperor. Last was the Bosmer, who ran back to the lit room after she’d taken a few steps. She grabbed on of the other torches and hurried to rejoin the group.

Posted by: Gaius Maximus Jan 11 2008, 10:11 PM

Hm... Interesting. The Mythic Dawn seems to be a lot more 'fanatical obsessed cult'-like here than in the game... The whole thing about them daring to kill their own for being captured seems a lot like something a cult would do, I suppose.

Posted by: Agent Griff Jan 11 2008, 10:46 PM

I just love your Altmer's personality. He all just so...elvish. Everything he does eludes his intelligence and wisdom. I think you've crafted yourself one hell of a character here. He kind of resembles Belwin from my own fic, though Belwin is a little more absent minded to say the least.

Anyway, I'm really enjoying this story. You've provided a great spin to what would have otherwise been a boring prologue that we all know by heart.

Posted by: Olen Jan 11 2008, 11:26 PM

Yes I very much like the way your handling it all. The cult is darker, they are more desperate and that altmer is badass (and so he should be).

Fanatics don’t kill off their own That line seemed a little odd but wasn't really an issue.

Posted by: Steve Jan 12 2008, 04:24 AM

I thought when I first saw this that it was another Morrowind Story that I couldn't understand...
I never played the game you see...
But man, boom, it's Oblivion! I think.... you can never be too sure!

Anyway! This has been a wonderful read! I can't stop wondering about what's going to happen!!!
I really enjoy this and that Altmer is just so!!! May I say it?

AWESOME!!! Well, very "wise" I think I would say.
It was funny the way you portrayed the Emperor. I never imagined him in slippers...
I can't wait to read the next one.

Oh, btw! Remember when I said in someones story that stuff like the tutorial could be "gone through fastly"?
I take that all back!!!

Posted by: jack cloudy Jan 13 2008, 08:22 PM

Oh, the mysterious backgrounds! Ok, I need to ask myself one question now. Which one of my characters did not have or still holds a mysterious background at one point? I'm seeing a pattern here.

But for now, update! (And more hints at the background of not one, but two elves here.)


Chapter 2.5


,,Why is this place abandoned anyway? Sure, it’s a tad dusty, but I know some people who would pay lots of money for a quality basement. Just look at it, no leaks anywhere and we’re in the middle of a lake below sealevel.” She heard Baurus say once she caught up.
,,What is that, you have dreams of going into prime estate?” Glenroy chuckled. The dark man shrugged.
,,Well hey, there will come a time when I can’t swing swords with the best of them anymore. It pays to keep your options open.” He replied.
,,But maybe our local font of knowledge knows something?” He continued and gestured at the Altmer. Even though the Elf had his back turned to the dark man, he seemed to know it was him who was indicated. Most likely because he was indeed the local font of knowledge, the Bosmer reasoned.

,,Mostly local superstition. Superstition from after the first era, when so-called slave-queen Allessia successfully conquered Cyrodiil. The people in those days claimed that the ghosts of those who had fallen continued their battle here. Since ghosts are generally found frightening, rather than attempting to put them to rest, this place was sealed off and buried. New houses were built, people generations came and went and it was forgotten till archeologists rediscovered this place half a century ago after a wall in one of the sewer canals had cracked thanks to a neglectfull mage dropping his rather explosive experiments through the toilet. And that’s the story.” He explained.
,,Would there be any truth to this superstition?” The Emperor asked. His voice had an icy tone to it.
,,So far, neither the archaeologists nor I have found any proof towards the presence of ghosts.” The Altmer plainly answered.

They passed another bronze door and entered a small chamber similar to the one the tunnel had led to. Too similar, it turned out.
,,Woah!” Baurus shouted and just barely managed to catch the arrow with the rim of his shield, preventing it from penetrating the Emperor’s skull.
,,Flanks!” The Captain ordered. She turned one-hundred and eighty degrees so that her shield now faced outward as well. One quick scan of the room revealed that they were in a disadvantageous position. There were four archers, one pair perched on each of the ledges on both sides. They were too high to reach with a sword. The only thing she and the other Blades could do was to catch the arrows with their shields and hope their assailants forgot to bring plenty of ammunition.

,,Back up! Back through the door!” The Captain shouted. The Bosmer stumbled backwards, tripped and fell. The Blades and the Emperor rushed past without paying her any heed. She scrambled back onto her feet and raced after them, expecting an arrow between her shoulder-blades at every step. The Altmer was close behind, though he stopped once he was through the door. He put a seal on it as he’d done back at the prison before turning to his companions. If there was one thing the archers had done wrong, it was their decision to all fire at the same time. The time it took for them to reload was a critical one, one which had made it possible for their target to slip away.

,,Seriously, for all the attitude you display in the midst of a crisis, I expected you to put them on fire or something while we were gone, not to run away yourself.” Glenroy taunted. The Altmer merely cocked an eyebrow and said nothing.
,,Whining gets us nowhere. There are archers up there and I don’t like that. We’re Blades. We’re supposed to protect the Emperor against the swords and daggers, not against bows. And who is to say that those archers are the last obstacle we’ll have to face? What’s next, mages? We can’t stop fireballs with our shields.” The Captain interjected.
,,Yeah, just what is Ocato doing right now? He’s the Imperial Battlemage! Shouldn’t he be here as well? He is the guy who is supposed to deal with hostile mages, it’s in his job description!” Baurus grumbled.
,,I have dispatched a messenger but he returned saying that Ocato saw no need for his aid and that this could be adequately taken care off by the Legion.” The Emperor said.
,,That good for nothing windbag…With all due respect, my liege, but I hope you will have a word with him tomorrow.” Glenroy hissed.
,,I plan to.”

Throughout the exchange, the Bosmer had been quiet. She noticed that the Altmer was looking away, with an odd expression on his face.
,,Hey, anything wrong?” She asked while the Blades began to bicker about what to do.
,,It’s nothing.” The Altmer replied. The girl shrugged.
,,Ok, care to tell me what an Imperial Battlemage is, then?” She asked next. The Altmer frowned slightly.
,,It doesn’t matter. Forget about it.” He said.

,,Huh?” The Bosmer grew a frown of her own. Something was wrong here, despite all claims to the contrary.
,,Just what am I doing here, trying to hold a conversation? I nearly got turned into a pincushion back there. What’s to stop them from coming through the door? Oh wait, he put one of those green thingies on it.” She thought. She made up her mind and braced herself for the backlash she was going to unleash.
,,If it’s nothing important, then it wouldn’t harm to tell me about it, would it? What is an Imperial Battlemage? Where does it come from? What does it do? You know, I’ve always been interested in foreign history. I can name you all the Pyandonea-Summerset wars of the last twothousand years, you know.”

He turned to her and remained silent for a long time. It frightened her and she edged backwards slowly in a subconscious attempt to avoid his gaze. He looked as if he was in pain.
,,Err…nevermind. I didn’t say anything.” She giggled nervously.
,,There is no Imperial Battlemage, nor is there any order that provides them. Tharn made sure of that. Wiped them all out.” The Altmer suddenly said.

The Blades interrupted their discussion.
,,Hey, did you just say something?” Baurus asked. Glenroy pushed his helmet back a bit and wiped the sweat off of his forehead as he looked at the two elves.
,,So, did you just claim that Ocato is not the Imperial Battlemage? I mean, he does carry the title openly.” He wondered out loud.
,,Ocato has never visited the Battlespire, has he? If he hasn’t received his training from there, he is not a Battlemage.” The Altmer said. The Emperor gestured at the seal on the door.
,,Is there any other way out of here that does not take us past four archers and perhaps more ambushes further up ahead?” He asked.
,,Is it just me, or is he really happy to change the subject?” The Bosmer thought.

,,None. I am now convinced that the assassins are making use of the same route I was planning to use. There is one other solution however. I could create a path.” The Altmer said.
,,And is he really happy to go along with it? Hmm, touchy subject, isn’t it?”,,Which leaves us with only one thing. The archers. We can’t have witnesses.” Glenroy noted. The Altmer looked at him silently and nodded.
,,Very well. I’ll take care of them.”

,,Wait!” The Bosmer yelled as the seal on the door was dispelled. The Altmer stopped and turned.
,,It’s one against four and they’re up on a ledge! You’re gonna get killed!” She whimpered. The Altmer sighed.
,,That is not what you believe.” He observed.
,,Ehm…well….yeah. Ok, so I think you’ll be back in all of five seconds. But you’re going to kill them, aren’t you?” To this, the Altmer did not respond.
,,Well, of course he is. What else did you think he was going to do, give them a lecture on the sociological differences between Cyrodiil and Stros M’kai?” Baurus said in a half-joking way.
,,But……” She tried and fell silent.
,,I hate killing. How can anyone be so cold about it? It’s just wrong. The only way to die should be in a bed, saying goodbye to your great-great-great-great grandchildren after playing with them for one last time. How old are they? I saw their faces….forty, fifty? They’re so young I bet they don’t even have kids! Or is it different with the round-ears? Do they think that a violent death is the only one that is right?” She thought.

To her surprise, it was the Emperor who knew what was going on in her mind.
,,I will not try to justify my own existence. But if we allow them to live, they will warn their accomplices and a large hunt will start. Till I have reached safety and till I am surrounded by scores of dedicated soldiers, I cannot afford word to come out.” He said.
,,Please take the necessary precautions…that is all I ask.” He added to the Altmer. The mage nodded and ventured through the door. Not a sound was heard till his return. And when he returned, he said only one thing.
,,It is done.”


OOC: Yeah, there is a bit of critiscizing the type of protection Bethesda gave our old man. Sure, they're indoors so archers are generally a bad idea (except in the ledge situation here.) But not a single mage? I mean, c'mon, this is TES. Everyone and the rat in the cellar knows a spell or two. What if the Emperor gets hurt? A healer would be so usefull. And a Battlemage, where is Ocato when you need him? Disregarding the fact that there is only one Imperial Battlemage worth mentioning: Jagar Tharn. Man, now that's a Battlemage. And he doesn't look as silly as Ocato. For that matter, they should have given Ocato his Daggerfall look, now that one was badass.

On another note, the Altmer seems really fond of stuff that involves green, doesn't he? Well, that's mostly because all spells he's used thus far (safe for Dreth knockout) are a form of barrier. Even the Stasis hold was simply a collection of barriers shaped in such a way that they worked as handcuffs.

Posted by: Lord Revan Jan 13 2008, 10:04 PM

Green spells are illusion, Jack, alteration is whit(ish). And if you watch the Emporer, he heals himself.

And it seems to me that not "everyone" even has magical power, let alone the know-how to use it to deadly affect.

Posted by: Olen Jan 13 2008, 10:24 PM

The blades aren't really very useful. They arte acceptable swordsmen but otherwise weak, none of them can shoot and they have no mages...

No critism of this (you're following beth) but why lead the emperor out like that? A big powerful invisibility spell (several of) and a blade disgusied as a beggar, walk out the front door, the blade opening everything. I suppose they had their reasons.

The bosmer is a bit odd, clearly shes a bit of a country bumpkin and a bit soft. Nice choice of secondary character though she will need a good reason to stay with them once (if) they get out.

Posted by: The Metal Mallet Jan 13 2008, 11:01 PM

Solid update. Interesting revelation about the Imperial Battlemage. Things are still intriguing and mysterious.

Posted by: jack cloudy Jan 17 2008, 07:19 PM

Hah, this shows you how little I really know. Anyway, so I'm using the wrong colours for my barriers. Heh, this actually works to my advantage. It merely makes the Altmer even more mysterious. Where did he pick up green barriers?

Well, yeah I know that there are exceptions and not everyone can cast, but I was exaggerating on purpose. I still stand by my comment. The Emperor should have been escorted by a professional mage. Damn you, Ocato! You fake Battlemage! Damn you!

Anyway, this ends the current chapter. Next, we're going to delve deeper into the Altmer's own plans, and bring more character to the Bosmer.


Chapter 2.6



The Emperor nodded.
,,Good. And about that path?” He questioned. The Altmer gestured off to his left at one of the many intersections they’d previously passed.
,,In there.” He said in a neutral tone and began to walk.
,,It just doesn’t touch you, does it?” The Bosmer hissed. The Altmer froze. Of all, it was the girl who was the most shocked at her own reaction.
,,You just walk in there, kill four people for no good reason and now you pretend it never happened!” She continued venomously.
,,Woah, careful. There was a good reason, a really good one.” Baurus tried, but to no avail.

,,No reason is good enough for murder! It’s the lowest of the low things one can do! And he did it not just once, but four times! On purpose!” She snapped.
,,We might want to keep our voices down for a while, lest more assassins track us down and force even more bloodshed.” The Captain warned urgently.
,,I do care.” The Altmer muttered. Everyone fell silent and watched at him as he stood with his back turned to them.
,,I care, but that doesn’t matter. I have no time for a weighted heart. Not now, not then.” He began to move again.
,,Now be quiet. If you don’t want to come, that’s your problem. But if so, your lifespan will be greatly shortened.” He added. The Blades and the Emperor followed quickly and, rather hesitantly, the Bosmer followed as well.
,,You monster. Don’t think I’m just going to shrug and forget about it like you do.”

,,So, where does this path lead to and why do you think that the assassins won’t have this one blocked off?” Glenroy asked after a while.
,,Because it leads to a dead end.” The Altmer replied. Roughly a hundred steps further, the corridor did indeed end in a round chamber. There was little that hinted at its purpose, except what looked like a sealed well in the center. Strangely enough, the floor was flooded by a few centimetres of water which dripped from a tiny crack in the walls.
,,This wall is now the only thing between us and the lake. If I open the crack wider, water will rush in and flood the entire network of corridors and chambers. After that, it will take something that can breathe water for indefinite periods to explore this place. The Emperor will be assumed to have drowned, which will hopefully remove the other assassins from the equation.” The Elf explained.

He pressed a hand on the crack and veins of white energy trailed from his palm, crafting a web on the wall. The light intensified as the gaps between the tendrils were filled and the Altmer stepped back. A barrier appeared as a dome over the group, while the now completely solid circle of light continued its work. At first it was uncertain just what it purpose was, but it soon became visible that it was moving back and where it had gone, the wall was no more.
,,Such magicka.” The Emperor mumbled.
,,My liege?” Glenroy said. The old man seemed unaware he had been spoken to.
,,Passwall. I’d outlawed that spell.” He continued. He then shook his head.
,,I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at you having knowledge of that. But still, it is more subtle than I’d expected.” The Altmer looked at the old man over his shoulder.
,,A sudden explosion would have been too suspicious when seen from the outside.” He said. He looked up at the ceiling for a second.
,,Passwall isn’t to my preference either. After the outlawing, every mage was forced to destroy every scrap of evidence of the spell and vow never to cast it again. Sure, crime-rates dropped to nearly half in a month, but still….Anyone who sees this spell and knows it for what it is will know one of my kind is here.” He looked at the passwall which was still working steadily.
,,All other alternatives would have been even more obvious.”

The passwall had carved through the wall in its entirety and began to dissolve into its individual tendrils which shot back into the Altmer’s hand, slowing slightly as they passed the barrier. Even as the spell faded, water rushed in through the gaping hole, washing away the dust, buffeting the air, roaring like a pack of demons. The barrier was the only thing that kept the torrent from consuming the group.

As the ancient foundations of the city was filled with water, the flow gradually slowed. The Altmer stepped forward and the barrier followed, forcing the others to stay with him. A lone and curious Slaughterfish swam into the addition to its habitat and gawked at the strange green dome. It nibbled on it for a moment but, after finding out it was inedible, it moved on to explore. Once outside, the Altmer cast another spell and they began to float upward, the dome becoming a sphere as they left the bottom of the lake.
,,Well, there goes my plan of selling quality basements. Pumping out the water will suck up all the profit.” Baurus contemplated as he took a last look at the hole in the wall they’d came from.


Several minutes later, they stood at the edge of the lake, the Bosmer standing a bit further from the rest. The island with the Imperial city on it was visible in the distance like a low mound swarmed by fireflies.
,,Do we part here?” The Emperor asked. The Altmer nodded slowly, as if he was in deep thought and only following the conversation with half an ear. The old man hugged himself for warmth and motioned for the Blades to follow him.
,,Well then, I shall be returning to the palace now. I’m sure we’ve led those assassins on the wrong trail. I’ll be fine.” He said.
,,Don’t.”

The old man stopped but did not turn to face the Altmer.
,,I know who you are, yet still I am willing to give you the advantage of doubt. You have preserved my life there. I am giving you a chance to leave in peace. Take that chance. Now, farewell.” He spoke and started to move again when the Altmer intervened. He intervened by performing a Stasishold on both the Emperor and his Blades.
,,What?!” The Captain grunted.
,,You! What is the meaning of this?!” She shouted. The Altmer ignored her and closed in on the Emperor. The Bosmer now noticed that no one was paying her any attention. She ran for the lake, unhindered.

,,My liege, I will only ask you once. Go in hiding. These assassins have breached all of your security once. They can do so again.” The Altmer pointed out. The Emperor was the only one who did not struggle against his bonds. He chose to show his defiance through his words.
,,I can reinforce that security. I did not ask you to make my decisions for me! Now release me!” He whispered without fear. The Altmer shook his head.
,,I can’t do that. You are merely a pawn in a game played by greater beings. Yet you are an important pawn. You are the queen of the chessboard. If you are lost, the future will look bleak. So I no longer ask you, but I command you. Take your Blades and go in hiding. Do not return to live till I allow you.”

The old man shook his head feverishly.
,,No! No, I shall not listen to you! No more! I have listened to you before, and you have betrayed that trust. I will no longer abide by the will of a fiend who will lead us all to our doom!” He shouted.
,,My liege, please heed your words! We cannot protect you!” The Captain warned.
,,I’m proud of my skill at the sword, but it is of little use if I can’t move even a single finger.” Baurus cut in.
,,Well and yeah, I don’t even have a sword for that matter. A certain gold-skinned fellow snapped it.” Glenroy added grim.

The Altmer stepped back.
,,Fine then! I’ve tried to be gentle with you but I see you are as stubborn as ever. I will give you one last choice, one last.” He spoke. The very air around him appeared to be colder, so great was his presence.
,,Either you flee and hide in a place of your own choosing, or I’ll come for you and send you to a proper place myself. And you know what that means.” He hissed. The Emperor glared but didn’t say a thing. He then turned his head to his city.
,,Am I supposed to leave the Empire in your hands?” He asked.
,,Yes.”

The old man sighed.
,,As its Emperor?” He asked next. To this, the Altmer shook his head.
,,I have no need for a crown and a pretentious title. All I desire is the freedom to move and play the game without being hindered by having to protect a wrinkled old man from his own stupidity. I don’t understand it. But maybe it is your stubbornness that makes me give you a chance to choose for yourself, Uriel.” He said, but without the sting his words could have had. Uriel managed a smile.
,,I was wrong. You have changed, though I can’t judge if the change has been good or bad. For the better or the worst, I leave this place in your hands.” He decided.
,,Do not betray my trust again. For I swear, I will send every single Legionnair, every normal man, every woman and every child old enough to carry a sword. I’ll send them all after you if you betray me again.” The green bonds vanished.
,,Send them, if I walk the wrong path. For now then, farewell, lord of Tamriel.” With those words, the Altmer walked away to the city.

The Emperor kept watching till the Elf had been swallowed by the darkness of the night.
,,Let’s not dawdle. We’re going to move swift. Glenroy, procure a few horses. Baurus, grab some clothing for disguises. Ask the beggars for help. Tell them: A fire has broken out, and there are not enough hands to carry water. Captain, you stay with me.” He ordered. Baurus chuckled.
,,A code? I suppose that answers how those beggars have managed to stick around despite the Legion’s best attempts at arresting them all. They’ve been on your payroll all the time.” He noted.
,,This is no time for jokes, Baurus. Please hurry. As for the Elf…” The Emperor looked around but soon gave up.
,,Never mind her. By the time she can tell anyone about us, we’ll be long gone. Now get moving.”

Posted by: The Metal Mallet Jan 17 2008, 09:05 PM

Damn that Altmer has some skills and still remains icy cool. I can't wait to see how this develops further...

Posted by: Olen Jan 17 2008, 09:57 PM

Hmm.. emperor survives and doesn't go back to his death which is an interesting turn of events. And the altmer (another fairly massive hint as to who he is in that one) is going to take control, I wander what Ocato will make of this.

And yes those skills are awesome.

And you avoided the single most annoying point in the game ('Damn it they've locked the gate from the other side' when said gate would take perhaps 20 seconds to climb up and though.)

Posted by: jack cloudy Jan 19 2008, 11:28 AM

Well, but the Emperor can't climb, can he? He does look a bit old from all the promotion pictures I've seen.

Anyway, I've decided to split the story into two paths. One for the Altmer and one for the Bosmer. It should be interesting. Oh, and after this story is done (and Oasis 2), I'm planning on writing the Morrowind side of the Oblivion crisis. So please don't be too surprised when I seemingly pull stuff from nowhere a few chapters later.


Chapter 3: Splitting paths

Lake Rumare, northern coast.

I didn’t look back nor did I slow my steps but I was already starting to doubt my decision. The old man had spirit, I gave him that. But spirit would not prevent his death. He was old, too old really. Even if the knives could be kept from his throat, time would finish the job sooner or later. I feared it would be sooner. I shook away my concerns. There was no going back now. I’d given him his choice and if I took it back now, it would make the offer meaningless. Besides, there were more pressing concerns. I would just have to trust him to keep his wits about him. He’d survived plenty of attempts on his life. He’d be fine, if he kept from sight. Though I did wonder what became of the Bosmer. She didn’t seem like the type who would tag along with them, and even less likely to follow me. I worried a little. I worried, although I knew that I could not afford to spent time looking for her.

I looked down at the manacles around my wrists. They were meant to chain my hands behind my back during relocation from one cell to another, something which had never happened. Now, they would merely draw unwanted attention to myself. I focussed on them and they broke apart, splashing in the wet sand. I scrubbed some sand over them with a toe. It wasn’t the perfect hidingplace, but it would do. Next up were my clothes. They were the standard prisonergarb, cheap, rough and very eyecatching in their own way. I had no need for them, but till I got something better to wear, I would be stuck with them. I cared little for physical discomfort after decades behind bars, but simple decency kept me from ditching the crude rags. So I decided that my first step was to obtain replacements.

But where to find them? There were several options open to me. The light of a building shone to my left. It was probably a tavern. Last stop before the Imperial City, it’s sign might say. I could sneak in there and steal them. However, my goal was the Imperial City, not the last stop before it. I had no desire to waste time. The night would end shortly and with it, the wheel of gossip would begin to spin. I wished to be at the city by that time. That, and stealing was not something I approved off, even less so if there was a more satisfying solution available. That solution lay at the walls of the city. I followed the edge of the lake towards the bridge I remembered. There wasn’t much time, so I alternated between running and walking. If I skipped across the lake directly, I would greatly shorten the distance I needed to travel. But, the wandering torches on top of the wall alerted me to nighttime patrols. It wouldn’t do me much good if they saw something running across the water.

Lake Rumare, eastern side.

The Bosmer rose up to the surface and took her first breath of air since the last half an hour. The hills in the distance seemed to be ablaze, a sign that the sun would rise within minutes.
,,Brrr, the water’s really cold here. Takes all the fun out of swimming.” She complained to herself as she looked around at the island she was on. There wsn’t much to see. It mas mostly a collection of sand, some grey rocks and shrubbery. There was a shack a stonesthrow from where she was standing. Next to the shack, a crude wooden pier extended into the lake. A rowboat bobbed on the shallow waves at the end of a short rope.

She took a few steps towards the shack, then stopped. It was the boat’s shadow underwater which had drawn her here, but she couldn’t see any light coming from behind the shack’s lone window. Perhaps it was abandoned? She shivered. She didn’t have much of a choice. If she couldn’t dry up soon, she would surely catch a cold. And the best chance for drying up was this shack. She took a deep breath, then knocked on the door.

There was no answer, so she knocked again, and again. Still no answer. The only sound was the buzzing of crickets and the singing of frogs. Seeing no other way out, she tried the doorbolt.
,,Besides, if this place is empty, it might actually be better. I don’t want to explain why I’m swimming in a lake at night. I don’t think swimming is a common hobby around here.” She thought. The door opened easily and without a sound, which seemed odd with the rundown appearance of the shack. If she’d looked closer though, she would have noticed that the door’s hinges were made of wood, not iron, and they’d been greased extensively.

Now that the door was open, she could hear some irregular snoring.
,,So there is someone here. And asleep as well.” The first beam of sunlight pierced the window and shone on the slumbering person’s feet. Carefully, the Bosmer went in and reached for the person’s shoulder. She couldn’t tell gender or anything, as everything was hidden under the blankets except for the feet. But the feet were old and wrinkled and she expected the rest of the person to be similarly old. She’d planned to simply ask if she could borrow a towel or something similar, but she felt uneasy about waking up someone.

She hesitated for a moment before pulling her hand back.
,,It would be rude for a stranger to disturb someone in his own house.” She looked around and found a grey blanket hanging on a fishingline near the window. She took it off the line and examined it. It had a rough texture and smelled like fish, but it seemed dry. Granted, everything in the shack smelled like fish. It was the first time she’d noticed the smell. She wrapped it around herself and sat down in a corner.
,,I’ll make sure to thank that person, when he or she wakes up. Hmm, fish, smells like home.” The smell made her drowsy and she dozed off.

Posted by: Olen Jan 19 2008, 12:06 PM

Fascinating move into first person for the altmer. I'm not quite sure why he wanted to hide the manacles and why he didn't throw them into the sea but its an irrelivant point really.

I wander who the old person is, I get the feeling someone moderatly important but I've no idea who.

And I agree that the emperor couldn't have climbed but 'barred from the other side' sort of implies that it could also be unbarred. It just got to me.

Anyway nice update.

Posted by: Agent Griff Jan 19 2008, 04:23 PM

The change of tense was interesting though I was more accustomed to merely witnessing the Altmer's action's rather than hearing their motivation. It's something I'll have to get used to. I would have expected the Bosmer to have a first person narrative but I guess she would have had somewhat more simpler thoughts than the Altmer's deeper thoughts based on his knowledge. Good update nonetheless.

Posted by: jack cloudy Jan 19 2008, 10:18 PM

You're right, Griff. I might not have screwed up too badly yet, but I will if I continue this way.

Point is, both characters are rather mysterious in their backgrounds. Only I have to decide which one gets third and the most mystery. The Altmer probably wouldn't work anymore if I go through his work in first person. The Bosmer would loose some in first person herself, but she would be a better choice. So from now on, it's the Altmer that gets third person.

Oh, and we get our first name! Finally, one of the main characters got a name! Wooh! Bring out the fireworks!


Chapter 3.2


Cyrodiil, Waterfront.

The Redguard sailors were entertaining themselves with a song while unloading a shipment of crates. The song went about a sailor whose ship crashed. He was saved by a nymph who succumbed to the man’s charms and the story proceeded in a predictable manner.
,,Excuse me!” A voice shouted from the dock. The cargomaster signalled the crew to keep working before he leaned on the handrails flanking the deck. Belwo him, he saw an Altmer in a blue robe standing next to the unloaded crates. For a moment the Redguard worried about his cargo, but he saw to his satisfaction that a Legionnaire patrol was nearby. There was no risk.

,,Yes, can I help you, sir?!” He shouted back. The Altmer waved and gestured at the crates.
,,I just noticed that sleeve sticking out from under the lid. Would you happen to be shipping clothes?” He asked. The Redguard nodded.
,,Hold on, I’m coming down.” He shouted, waited for a pair of sailors carrying a crate to pass, then walked over the plank himself.
,,Yes, we are shipping clothes. May I ask you for the reason of this interest?” He asked at a more conventional volume now that he was standing right next to the Altmer.
,,Always be polite to people in robes. You never know if he’s a fireball-happy mage.” He thought to himself.

The Altmer touched the sleeve sticking out of one of the crates.
,,Yes. My master, who works at the university, has run into a slight problem. He was conducting some experiments in his lab, with unfortunate results. I have been sent to aquire a new garb for him.” He explained as he inspected the silk. The cargomaster scratched the stubble on his chin.
,,Ah, right. Did you check the market? This shipment is meant for a clothesstore there.” He commented.
,,I already tried, yet the store is still closed at this hour. My master prefers to have his new garb before breakfast, when he must show himself to the apprentices. In his hurry, he sent me off without the means for a monetary compensation.” The Altmer said.

,,I see. That’s a bit of a shame. Now I suppose you want a set of clothes from these crates?” The Redguard asked.
,,That would be correct.” The Altmer replied with a nod.
,,Hmm, now don’t get me wrong. I would be pleased to help you out, but I can’t just do it without getting anything in return. I’m sorry, but I’m not the captain of this ship, only the cargomaster. That, and there is still a quota we must reach.” The cargomaster answered.

The Altmer thought it over for a moment.
,,Then perhaps, may I present you an offer?” He inquired. The Redguard shrugged.
,,Please, go ahead.”
,,Beyond being the master’s servant, I am also an advanced apprentice at the university. While I cannot vouch for my talents to be as sophisticated as that of a master, I am willing to give this ship my protection, in exchange for a single set of garb. I am quite certain that rarely does the actual number of items shipped equal the number of items in the quota.” It didn’t take long for the Redguard to make up his mind. He was almost surprised himself at how quickly he accepted the offer. Almost.
,,A fine deal. We always carry extras in case we lose a crate during a storm. Agreed.”

The Altmer waved his hands into a multitude of aracane gestures as magicka whizzed about him in a mad storm. Then the particles streamed off and seeped into the hull, the sails, the ropes, the mast, even the lanterns at the bow and stern. Visibly, the ship rose at least half a metre out of the waves.
,,I have lightened your vessel. With this, it will sail faster than before, and be able to carry more cargo before sinking.” The Altmer spoke. The Redguard gestured at the crates.
,,Please, all yours. Let me pop the lid.” He said.

The Altmer selected an exquisite robe of white linen, with a matching said sash and decorated by sewn in figures of golden threads. He then gave his thanks and walked away in the direction of the university with his precious load.

Lake Rumare, fisherman’s shack.

,,And who might you be?” I opened my eyes with a snap. The shack’s owner stood bent over me. He was a guy, which would have worried me after the last few days. Only he was old where the others were not. The fire in his blood had been extinguished by the years.
,,Ah, I’m really sorry! You see, I was really wet and so I thought I would go in and ask if I could borrow a towel. Only, you were asleep and I figured it would be rude to wake you up. Really sorry!” I apologized. I looked down at the blanket I’d wrapped myself in. It wasn’t wet, more like moist. The old man smiled friendly.

,,No need to fear, my dear. If you’re wet, nothing’s better than a warm blanket, a crackling fire and a good old bowl of fish-soup. It’s a shame you had to miss out on two of these things.” He said. I gave him a smile of my own and cast off the blanket.
,,Thank you! If there’s anything I can do to help, just ask! I can cook, I can clean, and do various other household chores!” I offered. His face paled and his smile fell.
,,Excuse me?” I mumbled. The old man recomposed himself but he’d taken his distance, and his voice was a lot more collected when he talked to me again.
,,Say, you wouldn’t be willing to tell me where you got those manacles, would you?”

I didn’t answer immediately, instead choosing to stare at the wooden boards that made up the floor.
,,I’d rather not. It’s kinda embarrassing.” I whispered. I then realized why he was so interested. He thought I was a murderer! Why else would I be wearing those things, I did got chained to the wall with them once. I blamed my lack of experience with prisons and criminals in general for not picking up the context in a heartbeat.
,,You see, I was in this garden up in the big city. Nobody was around, it was late and it looked like a nice soft place to sleep. Next thing I know, this walking collection of Iron shows up and drags me to this cold place under the ground. It was really creepy there!” I nearly tripped over my tongue in my rush to explain.

,,Vagrancy? Is that all? You got arrested for vagrancy?” The old man seemed positively relieved.
,,Err, is that the word for sleeping in the wrong place? If so, that’s it.” I answered.
,,I see. Bloody Legionnaires, never had much love for them. Now don’t get me wrong, they keep all the real scum off of our streets, but sometimes they’re just a bit too eager to serve and protect, if you know what I mean. And they threw you out without giving your own clothes back and taking off those manacles, crazy. They’re really slipping. Back in my days….Oh my, now I really sound as if I’m some old coot with half a foot in his grave. Nevermind that.” He said.
,,Anyway, why don’t you stick around for a while? I’ve got some bread in the cupboard. Why don’t we have breakfast first? I’m sure you must be hungry. I’ve heard that prison meals are not very nutritious.”
,,Oh, thank you!” I answered. When I saw the bread, I was not so thankfull anymore. It was stale, very salty and it looked like green moss was beginning to grow out of places.

,,This sure isn’t how the baker makes them at home. Oh well, it would be rude to refuse now.” I thought and forced myself to eat a loaf and actually look as if I enjoyed it.
,,Ugh, this thing’s harder than a rock. Brings a whole new aspect to the etiquette lessons the teachers stamped into me. Never thought I would apply them while eating bread while alone some guy in a shack. Never thought I would be alone with a guy for that matter. If dad found out, he would raise a navy just to chop off his head. So I’m not going to tell him or anyone.” I thought while eating. The thinking was the real thing that kept me focussed. I barely tasted the bread. That was probably a good thing.

Once we were done, we sat down outside the door to warm up in the morning sun. The old man tied a line with a hook to a fishingrod and shoved the leftover crumbs into a bucket to use as bait.
,,You’re a fisherman?” I asked. The man had regained his smile. It was a good smile, made me feel all warm inside. Not in a romantic way, but in the same way I felt when my father smiled at me.
,,It’s what I do. It’s easy and I make enough money out of it to make a living. I won’t be a rich man, but there’s little I need to buy anyway.” He said. I shielded my eyes from the sun and gazed across the lake at the hills.
,,Need help?” I inquired after a while. He looked up from his fishingrod.

,,You’d like to fish? I only have one rod.” He replied.
,,Well, I learned how to fish back home. But I don’t need a rod for it.” I answered. Again he smiled.
,,Then what do you use? A spear?” I shook my head.
,,A net? They’re good if you’re after big loads, bigger than my boat can handle.” Again I shook my head.
,,With your bare hands?” This time, I nodded. He laughed.

For a moment, I felt insulted but I soon realized he wasn’t mocking me.
,,Ah, that brings back memories. I used to fish with my hands. Now, I can’t keep up with them and have to rely on a rod. So you want to fish?” He said. Again I nodded.
,,Well then, let’s get onboard and push off. I know a rich spot.”

He was stronger than he looked. The rowboat wasn’t exactly the lightest or the most streamlined affair and the paddles weren’t much to speak about either. But he still managed to push that, himself, the fishing equipment and me, all at a decent pace.
,,It occurred to me that we haven’t made the introductions yet. I’m Delmar Tunius, fisherman.” He said with that fatherly tone. My, I was really beginning to like him. Now that was a first for this continent. Oh, there was that gold-skinned one, but he was too cold to really like. And after he just slaughtered…I sighed and shook off the thought. I didn’t want to think about it. I smiled at him before he could read my thoughts.
,,Maorlatta Orgnum, merchant.” I answered and then bit my tongue. I wasn’t much of a merchant. No money, no decent clothes, no company or goods.
,,Though I guess I’m reduced to begging now.” I added.

Delmar shook a finger.
,,Let me give you a bit of advice, Maorlatta….mind if I call you that?” He stopped himself. I giggled.
,,Sure. Why not?” He resumed rowing again.
,,Never resort to begging. A septim a day can keep you alive, but without dignity, you’re nothing. Look at me, I’m barely better than a beggar, but I don’t beg. I fish, I make my living through that. I don’t sit in a corner and ask passersby for money. If you want to get anywhere in this live, you have to do it yourself. Don’t be a parasite. I’ve seen many beggars who could be fine workers, if they weren’t too lazy….Ah, look at me, going on and on. I think you got my point after the first four words.”

Posted by: Olen Jan 19 2008, 10:45 PM

Well we have a name... Yay! And a bit of background, she's from an important family then. I like the fisherman, he's a good character.

I assume the altmer was using some sort of illusion on the captain? Otherwise it seems unlikely he would swap clothes for some suggested piece of magic... Anyway pretty powerful spells again. I wander when we will get a second name (which will dispell a good bit of the mystery around him unless I'm mistaken).

Posted by: Gaius Maximus Jan 19 2008, 11:13 PM

Hm... Seems like I missed some stuff.

You know, I must say I really like the fisherman so far. He seems like the kind of old, relaxed, simple person you won't see in fanfics frequently. Gotta love simplicity...

Plus, some background info on the Bosmer... And a tongue-breaking name, to top it off.

And, the Altmer seems to get more interesting by the second. I want to find out who he is, yet I want him to keep being mysterious at the same time...

Can't wait for the next update.

Posted by: canis216 Jan 20 2008, 02:23 AM

Ah, I finally put in the effort to catch up, and it was well worth it. One gets the feeling that this Altmer is a refugee from the Battlespire... but after that?

Posted by: minque Jan 22 2008, 12:36 AM

yup....just catched up on this one! Good work Jackie! Since I've watched my son play OB on xbox I'm a tad more familiar with the settings in your story....and I must say I like it!

Posted by: Agent Griff Jan 22 2008, 08:42 AM

Great last update with the re-change of tense in both stories but the only odd thing is, how exactly are you writing this if you haven't played Oblivion? Of course, the logical answer would be that you're making it up as you go but, still, when it comes to any specific quests that you'd like to re-enact how will you handle the task? You could always look at the UESP wiki because they have all quests there with a walk-through included but that would be a little weird. Writing about Oblivion without actually playing Oblivion. It just feels odd.

Also, I think I know where you got the name of the Bosmer. She's a Maormer right? You cut out the mer part and add in Latta and you get Maorlatta. Still, the Altmer is just as mysterious as he ever was. I'm starting to think he's the Hero of the Battlespire. Either that or a hero of a previous TES game since I can't justify his relationship to the Emperor otherwise.

Posted by: jack cloudy Jan 25 2008, 07:11 PM

Well, it is odd but I do it practically all the time. I guess it has become second nature to me.

That said, I don't have any actual quests planned right now. Bruma probably won't feature, neither will Martin's escort to the priory and Cloud Ruler.

Oh, and one other thing I used the UESP for, is Latta's name. I liked the translation it gave. And yes, I just used the second part of her name as the shortened version. *not so subtle hint*

About the captain, it was the cargomaster who pulled the deal but he was indeed charmed with some good old mindtricks. 'These are not the droids you are looking for'. Oh, wait. Wrong story. Oops.

And one last thing, keep guessing at the Altmer, people.



Chapter 3.3


Cyrodiil, palace.

The Altmer examined his new garb for the last time as he leaned against the marble walls that encircled the palace. Admittedly, he could have simply maintained the illusion on his prison-outfit, but that would allow a margin of error he wasn’t going to risk. He could claim without any arrogance whatsoever that his skill at the art of deception was possibly among the greatest in the world, the source of legends. Yet, for all he was, he was not flawless. Wearing an actual outfit suited to the job was still preferable to an elaborate illusion.

He removed a loose thread and straightened out the last wrinkle when the sun burst over the walls. The Altmer took a deep breath and turned his eyes towards the golden doors of the palace. Now, the doors opened without the slightest sound and a dozen guards walked out, each wearing the stylized silver armour with the golden dragon-crest that was the mark of the palace-guard. The guards split up in pairs, moving out along the street. At regular intervals, one pair would stop and turn to face each other. They would raise their silver Claymores over the street as an arch. When the last pair had taken up position, the Altmer moved away from the wall.

An idle part of his mind observed the purely symbolic guards. They were no slouch in combat, certainly. In fact, they were rated amongs the greatest the continent had to offer. Their strength couldn’t be questioned either. They had trained years, just so they could stand perfectly still with their Claymores for six hours, not a simple feat. But still, their positioning was rather inefficient for a true guard. But that was why there were the normal guards patrolling the streets just beyond the ceremonial path. If there was trouble of sufficient magnitude to warrant their attention, a guard merely had to call and a dozen expertly skilled warriors would jump to his aid.

The Altmer remembered that the palace guards were Blades as well, high-ranking ones. The only reason why they weren’t wearing the lighter and more functional Blade armour was again symbolic. The perfectly polished plates reflected every last ray of sunlight, making the guards look less like mortal men and more like immortal dragons burning with devotion.

Just when the Altmer had begun to walk, a small group of pages dressed in white came out of the palace. Fear was evident on their face and in the way they had to force themselves not to run. As they hurried past him, the Altmer turned and began to follow. None of them noticed their party had gained a new member, so focussed were they on their task. The fact that he practically looked as if he was one of them helped. He had chosen his robe well.
,,Right on schedule.”

Lake Rumare

I dangled a toe in the water. Now that the sun was shining, albeit it still hung pretty low in the sky, the water had heated up considerably. It was almost comfortable now. Delmar stopped rowing and pulled the oars back into the boat. He then took the fishingrod and pierced a worm on the hook.
,,Alright, here we are. Now let’s go fishing. Keep an eye out for Slaughterfish.” He said. I carefully got up and rolled over the edge into the water. The boat barely rolled when I shifted my weight.

The water flooding into my nose was cold and I sneezed, which made a few bubbles shoot out of my nostrils.
,,Brrr…still cold.” I said when I resurfaced. Delmar had dropped his rod and leaned over the edge of the boat.
,,Just what are you doing?! You jumped in? I thought when you talked about using your hands you were going to grab any passing fish while sitting in the boat.” He stammered. I shrugged.
,,I’m used to swimming.” I answered.

Delmar picked up his rod again with a sigh.
,,But wasn’t the whole reason you sneaked into my home because you wanted to get dry?” He asked. Oops, should have remembered that. Well, too late now.
,,Sorry.” I whispered. The old guy shook his head and leaned back.
,,Oh, whatever. It is not as if I need the blankets myself. Just don’t go too far and stay away from the Slaughterfish. Those scaly bastards are really something.” He warned me. I waved and dove underwater.

I was about halfway to the bottom when instinct kicked in and I began to alter the water around me, splitting it into water and air. The air I would breathe while the water I spit out.
,,Ok, I can stay underwater for half an hour. Let’s see. Where is a nice fish? I need a big one, for myself. I can’t fish till I’ve taken care of this.” I thought and began to swim around in circles, using both legs and arms to push myself forward at a decent clip.

The water was crystal-clear and I would have been able to see all the way to the other side, if my vision wasn’t so blurry underwater. My eyesight was still good enough to see a vague bronze shape hiding among some weeds, though. Curious, I turned towards it and sped up. It too turned and sped up as well, incredibly so. From near motionless, it had gone to match my speed, and then even triple it! All in less than a heartbeat. I could see it open its maw and reveal a set of really long teeth.
,,Stay away from the Slaughterfish.” So this was a Slaughterfish? It looked worthy of its name. All muscle and teeth, and quick to boot. I knew I should turn away and get back to the boat or at least hide in the nearest patch of weeds, but I didn’t.

Instead, I kicked out with a foot and stopped. I couldn’t practically outrun it and at the distance it was, it would get to me in about five seconds, far too short for me to find a place to hide. There was no thinking going on in my mind, no feelings of panic or even a slight hint of apprehension. Instead, I felt…..hungry. And the hunger made me stop and wait for it.

Just as it was about to reach me, the Slaughterfish slowed down and shook its head from side to side in confusion. My body reacted naturally and pounced. One hand tightened around its tail, the other clamped that ugly maw shut. I gouged out its eyes with my fingers in the process. This wasn’t fishing anymore. This was simply about devouring or being devoured. In this case, I was the one who did the devouring, biting where its heart had to be. I gobbled a lump my mouth could barely hold and swallowed the whole thing without chewing, scales, bones, blood, half a heart and even a lot of water.

After that first bite, the fish died nearly instantaneously and I came back to my senses. A feeling of revulsion was the first I got, next was the more sober thought that I should swim somewhere else. With all the blood the Slaughterfish was leaking, I wouldn’t be surprised if another would come looking for an easy meal. I swam away and settled down behind a rock. My memories of what had just happened were rather blurry, but I still understood most of it. I’d gone too long without a real meal, and I had just felt the consequences. The rat I caught in the cell hadn’t been much. It had nearly been as starved as I’d been. I felt better now, though.

I looked at my hand, which seemed transparent. It was the reason why the Slaughterfish had gotten confused and slowed down enough for me to grab it. It was interesting, and scary, how much instinct could control my actions. I thought of taking on my natural colour again as a form of defiance but after a second I changed my decision. If my camouflage was good enough to fool one of those monsters up close, it was good enough to keep them hunting me in the first place. I blew out a few bubbles and left the rock. Finding some smaller fish to drop off at the boat was what I wanted to do right now. Preferably ones without any teeth.

Posted by: Agent Griff Jan 25 2008, 09:33 PM

Hm, nice update. The Maormer (formerly Bosmer) is really starting to show off her skills. Nice deception you had going until now with us thinking it was actually a Bosmer. As far as I know, these Maormer have a pretty odd skin colour, right? They're rather like chameleons if I could compare them to an actual creature.

Anyway, I liked the description of the Ceremonial Palace Guards and how they took position. I think I know who the Altmer is now. He is...Ocato's brother! Wrong huh? Either that or Jagar Tharn's step-cousin twice removed on his mother's side. The former probably.

Posted by: Olen Jan 26 2008, 02:20 PM

"And one last thing, keep guessing at the Altmer, people."

Are you sure? The key clues I'm going on are that the emperor recognised him, thought he was dead and was very frightened of him. There is also repeated suggestions that the Emperor trusted him once and that trust was betrayed. He knows a bit about the battlespire. He's a monumentally powerful mage. The title of this is redemption. He'd been in jail for a long time (a guard said since before he was born).

There I've said nothing that didn't appear in the fic, there were a few other things but I won't spill the beans (assuming I have the correct beans) unless you want me to.


Anyway sound update, nice twist with the bosmer being a sea elf. I'm fascinated to know how the altmer will take power.

Posted by: Lord Revan Jan 26 2008, 06:56 PM

I think we have the sdame suspect, but I won't say anything. Keep going Jack.

Posted by: jack cloudy Jan 27 2008, 10:15 PM

And I think you have the right suspect.


Chapter 3.4


Cyrodiil, Ocato’s office.

“Lord! Lord!” Ocato looked up at the sudden sound with an irritated expression. He instantly smoothed his expression down to one of stoic calm and scolded himself for showing weakness, even if it had only been for a mere moment.
“Yes? What matter would be so important that it is necessary to disturb a chancellor of the Council?” He asked in a dry monotone.

The pages all fidgeted about nervously and Ocato picked up a demeanor of considerate attention.
“Lord, we come here with important news.” One of them, an Imperial in his late forties, said. Ocato gestured for the man to continue.
“And what would this news be?” He asked at the same time.
“The Emperor, he is nowhere to be found within the palace. Servants are searching every chamber, but as of yet, they have not been succesfull.” The page continued after a short pause.

Ocato leaned back in his seat and glanced at the papers on his desk without seeing them.
“I see.” He muttered, addressing no one in particular. He looked up at the ornate clock hanging on the wall.
“Within the hour, the citizens shall flow to the palace to present their needs and issues to our liege.” He added. He calmly began to fold the papers and stack them into a pile which he then shoved to a corner of his desk. Once he was done, he stood up.
“Last night, men entered the palace with criminal intentions. The palace guard was, surprisingly, ineffective to prevent entry. As according to protocol in such an event, the Emperor was roused from his slumber and escorted to the Imperial prison where he would hide till the culprits had been caught and detained. You will find our liege there. Now go there and tell him that the threat has passed. I shall go to the palace and take his place till the moment of his return.” He ordered and watched the pages filter out of the door. Once they’d all left, he walked out himself.

Ocato had scarcely fled the office, or the air in a corner shimmered before settling into the form of a tall Altmer with grey curls reaching to his shoulders, dressed in a white robe similar to that of the pages, yet differing in the details. The Altmer leaned out beyond the doorway and peered down the hall before closing and locking the door. If any of Ocato’s houseservants came this way, they would find the door locked and assume that Ocato wished the room to remain undisturbed so that he could continue his work where he had left off upon his return. Or so the Altmer hoped.

He moved through the room slowly, with barely a sound. The first item he inspected was the stack of paper forms Ocato had left on his desk. It was about the organization of a festival next month, nothing that merited the Altmer’s interest. He placed the papers back in the position Ocato had put them, making sure he maintained the right order.

Next, he moved to a bookrack running along a sidewall. His finger skimmed over the titles till he found the one he had been looking for.
‘Financial report of private spendings. 3E 401 - 3E 431’
The Altmer placed the book down upon the desk and sat down. The first page confirmed what he’d expected. The numbers in it were about the money Ocato had donated to various organizations and individuals, on behalf of Uriel Septim VII. None of the numbers would appear in the official reports found at the palace.

He picked up an empty sheet of paper, as well as a new quill and bottle of ink. Ocato, the Altmer assumed, wouldn’t miss either since it wasn’t his task to look after the stock. The servants meanwhile, would assume Ocato had taken the items with him to the palace and would replenish the stock without a word. The Altmer allowed himself a smile of satisfaction as he began to take notes of the more noteworthy reports. Reports of unusual events, or those that stood out due to their regularity. It wasn’t long till a pattern grew.

3E 403: Gift for Kvatch temple restoration. 5000 septims.
3E 403: Expenses for investigation regarding individual ‘Cluson Alkad’ 8054 septims
3E 403: Expenses for investigation regarding individual ‘Aran Geydar’ 531 septims
3E 403: Expenses for investigation regarding individual ‘Rajn Treesap’ 531 septims
3E 403: Outfitting of Blade operatives with forged Legion equipment. 3067 septims

3E 404: Financial gift to Thieves guild infiltrant, for the purpose of aquiring a decommissioned navy vessel through illegitimate channels. 5400 septims
3E 404: Gift for Kvatch temple restoration. 5000 septims.
3E 404: Financial agreement with individual ‘Redriz Valerus.’ 16807 septims.

The Altmer tapped the paper at the last line and whistled softly. That was a lot of money for just a single agreement. He continued running down the list.

3E 404: Mage-copy designated ‘Luper Alkad’, inserted. Original placed in stasis. Financial agreement with Dark Brotherhood for the silencing of individual Redriz Valerus. 6000 septims.

Again the Altmer paused. So this Valerus had apparently been a mage, hired by the palace to forge a copy of a certain person. Then after his work had been done, Valerus had been silenced.
“Something important is going on here, but I don’t know what. I should keep my eye on this.” He thought.

3E 405: monetary gift to merchant-vessel ‘Blue Serpent’. 2400 septims
3E 405: Gift for Kvatch temple restoration. 5000 septims.
3E 405: Expenditure at Cyrodiil quality arms. 1 Elven Claymore. 1750 septims

He rechecked to make sure he hadn’t made a mistake somewhere.
“A single Claymore? Odd.”

3E 405: enchantment-costs for Elven Claymore. 7080 septims.

Surprisingly, the next few years were devoid of anything interesting, except for the regular
gift to the Kvatch temple, which was starting to stand out. Then, at 3E 427, the Altmer found something interesting again, even moreso since he knew the importance of this date.

3E 427: Agreement with Mage guild for memory-wipe of individual ‘Luper Alkad’. New memories implanted. 25970 septims.
3E 427: Prison-files altered. Silencing money paid. 4500 septims.
3E 427: Gift for Kvatch temple restoration. 5000 septims.

3E 429: Agreement with Dark Brotherhood for the silencing of individual ‘Luper Alkad’ 30000 septims.
3E 429: Gift for Kvatch temple restoration. 5000 septims.

3E 430: Financial gift to Dark Brotherhood for base reconstruction in Mournhold. 3300 septims
3E 430: Gift for Kvatch temple restoration. 5000 septims.
3E 431: Payment to Dark Brotherhood to cease threats of murder Uriel Septim VII. Hunt for individual ‘Luper Alkad’ cancelled. 20000 septims.
3E 431: Gift for Kvatch temple restoration. 5000 septims.

The Altmer stopped writing. He had what he’d been looking for, pretty much. The Kvatch temple really stood out. Why, he didn’t know. What was more important, was the fact that there had been a noticeable peak in the number of Dark Brotherhood agreements in the year before. Then there was what he called the ‘Alkad’-case. He wondered what that was about. It seemed as if the matter had been resolved, pretty much. Though the amount of funds that case had siphoned over the years was incredible.
“To survive the Dark Brotherhood for two years and actually make the order so desperate it threatens the emperor just to have the hunt cancelled. I should keep an eye out for rumours regarding this man. He could be a threat.”

The Altmer folded up the paper, closed the bottle of ink and tucked everything he’d used in his pockets. He then unlocked the door, placed the key where he’d found it. Finally, he vanished into tin air.

Posted by: Marcel Rhodes Jan 27 2008, 11:29 PM

And there I thought he was actually Ocato for a minute...

I still don't know who he is, but I'm enjoying the conjecture, and the material. Great stuff.

Posted by: Gaius Maximus Jan 27 2008, 11:47 PM

Hm, interesting... I wonder what's going on with the Kvatch Temple. I'm already having some very odd ideas about that. And one very crazy idea, involving blackmailing the Emperor.

And, we have Luper... Yay!

Posted by: The Metal Mallet Jan 28 2008, 04:54 AM

I think I have a good idea about the Kvatch Temple issue. Perhaps it's an agreement for the Temple to look after a "certain someone" ya know? Someone that should be close to the Emperor.

Very interesting update with this one. Makes me make a lot of speculations.

Posted by: Olen Jan 29 2008, 12:51 AM

Good, one thing though: 'Financial report of private spendings. 3E 401 - 3E 423’ had entries for 3E431 as it reads. Not really an issue though.

Who is Lupar (I assume he appeared somewhere else?) or is that another one to guess at. Kvatch temple certainly suggests someone though some bits are intreging...

Keep it going.

Posted by: Lord Revan Jan 29 2008, 02:03 AM

Luper is another of Jack's characters, from the Oasis stories.

Posted by: Agent Griff Jan 29 2008, 08:15 AM

And besides Luper we also have passing mentions of Rajn Treesap and Aran from Jack's Corrupted Heart story.

Posted by: jack cloudy Jan 29 2008, 08:57 AM

Ah, good job catching that, Olen. I'll edit it right away.

And yeah, this update was pretty much just my way of saying: ,,See? This story fits in my alternate TES universe."

And while I'm at it, there are some clues to things beyond the Kvatch temple one. Oh, and I doubt Luper is going to make a major appearance in this story. He's more likely to woop Mehrunes behind from Ald-Ruhn all the way to Sadrith Mora.

Hmm, with how my universe has developed, I feel kinda sorry for what the Daedric forces will be going through when they invade Vvardenfell.

Posted by: jack cloudy Feb 16 2008, 10:20 PM

Aye, double-post! Ok, with half a month inbetween. Yeah, I've slowed down tremendously on these things.

For now, some short Latta stuff.


Chapter 3.5


Lake Rumare

The silvery blur tried to escape one hand but ran right into the other. I held on tight to keep it from escaping as I swam back to the boat where I dropped it into a waiting bucket. That was the fifth. Delmar pursed his lips as he looked at his own bucket.
“Just one here. I miss my youth. A rod just isn’t such a quick method.” He said and then grinned.
“Though on the other hand, I was one stressed out kiddo back in the days. Nowadays, I’m much more relaxed. Not a bad change.” He added. I could see he was still somewhat jealous though, despite his best attempts at making jokes. I dove back underwater without a word.

Two minutes of swimming later, I ran into another Slaughterfish. I steered clear of it and hid behind rocks as much as I could, despite the camouflage. Those buggers were starting to annoy me, really. I just couldn’t relax with those things around. I peeked up over the rock and saw that it was tearing through a school of frantic fish. It didn’t even kill just one. No, it tried to kill everything that moved and then only ate like two of the dozen dead fish. It made me mad, to see that waste. It also made me wonder how this ecosystem could possibly support such a stupid predator.
“Seriously. Everything else must breed like crazy just to keep up.”

I sighed and went the other way. Last trip, I’d noticed a school of fish just to the northwest, near the bank. It wasn’t the one that had been ripped apart by the Slaughterfish. I could tell cause they were different breeds. When I found the school, I settled down at the bottom of the lake near some weeds and waited for them to come. Judging by their swimming pattern, they probably fed on smaller creatures which in turn hid among the weeds, like the clump I was sitting next to. All I had to do was wait till they ventured over here on their own.

When the school arrived, I didn’t strike instantly. Instead, I kept waiting while trying to appear like just another rock, a trick made easier by turning my skin into grey with a gravely appearance. One fish went to investigate the cracks between my fingers. The moment it dipped its snouth into my cupped hands, I closed them and then waited till the rest of the school had moved on. Unlike the other predators around, I only took what I needed and allowed the rest to live and reproduce.

With the sixth fish in my hand, I made my way back to the boat, where I could see the hook of Delmar’s fishing rod floating in the water. It was still pristine. The worm hadn’t even been nibbled on. That was rather odd, considering the Slaughterfish I kept seeing everywhere. Then again, those big teeth weren’t really usefull for feeding on something as small as a worm.

As I looked at the dangling hook, I began to feel bad for some reason. I tried to ignore it but as I looked at the fish in my hands, I realized why I felt that way. I felt bad because Delmar had generally been nice to me and here I was, upstaging him at what he did best. Sure, it wasn’t really a competition, but it could be that he felt that way. He tried not to show it, but it made him feel uneasy. Maybe he really felt old, and considered it a bad thing.

I impaled the fish’s lips on the hook, closed the mouth around the worm and then gave a little tug before moving away from the boat. Making someone younger was beyond my abilities, but I could still comfort him, in my own way.

Posted by: Olen Feb 17 2008, 09:30 PM

Good to see more of redemption. I'm waiting for it all to kick off now.

Posted by: Agent Griff Feb 17 2008, 10:00 PM

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

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

Posted by: jack cloudy Feb 28 2008, 10:10 PM

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


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


Chapter 3.6


Cyrodiil, market

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Posted by: Olen Mar 2 2008, 12:06 AM

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

I want more.

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

Posted by: minque Mar 2 2008, 02:35 PM

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

Posted by: jack cloudy Mar 9 2008, 07:13 PM

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


Chapter 3.7


Lake Rumare

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Posted by: Agent Griff Mar 9 2008, 09:08 PM

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

Posted by: The Metal Mallet Mar 10 2008, 05:38 AM

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

Posted by: Olen Mar 10 2008, 05:54 PM

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

Posted by: Agent Griff Mar 10 2008, 05:59 PM

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

Posted by: BSD-IES Mar 10 2008, 09:38 PM

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

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

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

Posted by: Agent Griff Mar 10 2008, 09:55 PM

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

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

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

Posted by: BSD-IES Mar 10 2008, 09:59 PM

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

Posted by: Agent Griff Mar 10 2008, 10:04 PM

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

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

Posted by: jack cloudy Mar 15 2008, 08:24 PM

Thanks for all the praise.

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

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

Now back to the story.




Chapter 4: Traces

Cyrodiil, Prison

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Posted by: Olen Mar 16 2008, 02:27 PM

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

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

Posted by: Agent Griff Mar 16 2008, 02:37 PM

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

Posted by: treydog Mar 16 2008, 04:18 PM

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

Posted by: The Metal Mallet Mar 17 2008, 01:41 AM

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

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

Posted by: Lord Revan Mar 18 2008, 05:58 AM

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

Posted by: Olen Mar 18 2008, 09:44 PM

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

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

Posted by: jack cloudy Mar 24 2008, 11:57 AM

I think the best answer to that is to consider twins unusual. If Dunmer only had one child total, then indeed extinction would be the only way. (Unless the Tribunal employed secret cloning facilities. Who knows with them.)

And while I would love to do some more Altmer...err...Bob! The schedule says we go with more Latta.
(The schedule also says I should pay more attention to my other stories, but I'll do that when I get in the mood.)


Chapter 4.2


Cyrodiil, shack

I tried to breathe through my mouth instead of my nose. This place reeked, and not in a good way. I could smell sweat, rust, rotten food, alcohol, stale water and some fragrances I couldn’t place. It made me dizzy. It was also so dark I couldn’t see a thing. Since there was nothing to see, I closed my eyes and tried to relax. I could hear Delmar talking to someone in an other room of the building. The walls muffled their voices though, so I couldn’t exactly hear what they were saying. Not that I needed, it was probably about the deal he was going to seal anyway.

I shivered. A deal. That word just felt bad. It was too cold, too heartless. A deal.
“I don’t care how safe it is, it’s still wrong. They’re crooks, one shouldn’t have to interact with them.” I thought.
“What is wrong?” My eyes snapped open and spun across the room to the only lightsource. My thoughts had become a panicked whirlwind.
“Did I say that out loud?! Oops, that’s bad. Insulting people is bad, but insulting people who stand outside the law already is just asking for trouble! Did he know what I said? He asked me to repeat myself, but that could just be common courtesy. Common courtesy? He’s a criminal, he doesn’t have common courtesy. So he did hear. Agh, this is bad!”

The lightsource was a small candle, little more than a stump, held by….furry paws.
“Err…nothing…I was just complaining about the Slaughterfish. Dumbest beasts I’ve ever seen.” I stammered. Meanwhile, I noticed the paws had claws that dug into the wax. Claws…stuck in wax. This was so not helping me calm down. All I wanted was to disappear and my skin darkened in response to that urge. The…person dashed forward, revealing two large luminescent eyes to me.
“Hey, where did you go? Bosmer, this one hasn’t given you his services yet. This one still has to remove the iron inconveniences!” He purred. Or at least, I thought he was a he. Frankly, he could be a she or even genderless. I had never seen anything like him before so I couldn’t judge. His words were what made me realize I’d tried to vanish. I recoloured back to my normal tan after which I made sure I’d stay that way.

Funny enough, I wasn’t so scared anymore, just annoyed.
“Gah, changed on a whim. I should be better than that! I’m not a baby anymore! This is so emberassing!” I scolded myself.
“Sorry…umm…We haven’t been introduced yet. My name is Maor….umf!” My words were cut off by one of his paws covering my mouth.
“No no, Bosmer shouldn’t tell its name. That would be bad, cause Khajiit can’t tell his name and if he can’t tell his name but Bosmer can tell its, this one would feel bad.” He said. So he was a he. I must have guessed right then. Though, he was kinda getting on my nerves.
“Why is he talking in the third person all the time? And I’m a she, dammit! Who does he think he is, addressing me as if I’m some kind of animal?” It was common courtesy, and my best interests, that kept me from voicing my thoughts.

Delmar was still talking on the other side of the wall. So who was the trader we were supposed to meet? The person Delmar was talking to, or this…Khajiit? I shook my head.
“No, neither is. System of corresponding rank and risk. Tasks handed down from the uppermost rank to the lower ones, with the lowest rank actually doing the job and taking all the risk. Anonymous contacts, semi-random meeting points, it all makes sense.” The Khajiit blinked.
“What is this one blabbering about?” He asked.
“Did I say that out loud as well? Dangit, I should either stop thinking or cut off my tongue before I blab myself into trouble!”

The stump was placed down on a stool after which the Khajiit grabbed one of my hands and pulled it close to the fire. I suppressed a yelp and the urge to pull my arm back.
“How rude! He could have asked first!”
He then held a loupe over the lock. I could hear him growl.
“Ah, this one hasn’t seen this type of lock in months. It will be fun to work with.” He whispered.
“AE-35914…An AE-series manacle. Nice…very nice.” He let go of my arm and stood up.
“This one has just the tools it needs, in a box upstairs. Please wait.”

And so I was left alone again. Not for long though. The Khajiit returned after a few minutes, a few rather long minutes in my opinion. So he had his tools upstairs in a box and said tools turned out to be a few strips of metal and a pincer. If that was all he had to get, then why took it over ten minutes?
“He’s probably just trying to agitate me. Stupid thug.” I decided not to say anything whatsoever. I also hoped I hadn’t said that out loud but he didn’t bring it up, so I probably hadn’t.

Surprisingly, the Khajiit was quiet as well and the only sounds were the clicking of those little scraps of metal in the lock of my manacles. Delmar was quiet. Did he leave? At first I was worried but as it turned out, dealing with those manacles took the better part of the whole day. Delmar had probably gone to process the fish we caught in the morning. Though taking the whole day just to open two locks? Those manacles had to be quite something then.
“Though I can’t complain. Breaking the lock with a hammer and a hot pick wouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes, but it would break my arms in the process, after searing off the flesh. I guess it’s better to take the slow option then.” The soft clicking was oddly relaxing after a while and I drifted off into a light slumber.

When I woke up, the stump had been replaced by a much longer candle. Both manacles were still around my arms and the Khajiit was still fiddling with them. I frowned, suddenly agitated for some reason. The urge to vanish came back. How long had I been asleep? And better yet, why was he still busy with the first one? This slow…it…my mind ground to a halt, before branching off onto a new path. The urge grew.
“Hypothesis. He is part of an organized crime organization, and an expert at cracking locks. In his line of work, he probably opens locks all the time. But the locks in these manacles are too small to be really complicated, they can’t be the most complicated locks he’s ever worked with. And if he took this long on the streets, guards would interrupt him.” I grit my teeth.
“This guy isn’t cracking the locks. He’s just pretending to! It’s a set-up. But for what?”

While longer, the new candle gave off just as much light as the stump. Which basically meant, not much at all. I still couldn’t see anything beyond the stool the candle was placed on. But I could hear, and I could smell. There was a new flavour in the mix of scents here…and a third pair of breathing lungs. The urge to vanish was almost uncontrollable now. Still, I remained where I was and tried to keep thinking rationally.
“That smell, it’s hard to recognize in the chaos but…I have smelled it before…No, I haven’t but it is awfully similar. It reminds me of…family?”

Posted by: Olen Mar 24 2008, 02:27 PM

Hmm, interesting, I don't think she's been sold out (at least by the old bloke) but maybe...

I could smell sweat, rust, rotten food, alcohol, stale water and some fragrances I couldn’t place. Sounds like my flat.

Still this update makes things far more exciting - Latta was drifting a bit but she's moving now and we have tension. We still don't know why she's there though.

Posted by: jack cloudy Mar 26 2008, 10:14 PM

Ah, she has her reasons. And for once, her reasons aren't part of any quest at all, unlike the Altmer who is still sorta following the main script of Oblivion. (Though she probably will get involved sooner or later. I mean, it's gonna be a major invasion, she won't just be able to avoid all Daedra by mere coincidence.)

Ironically, while Latta gets a boost in the tension department, the Altmer is taking it slow and easy. Then again, the way I've portrayed him, there isn't much that can make him sweat.

Speaking of the Altmer, he mentions a name here! WWWWOOOOOTTTTT!!!!!
And since Griff brought it up, he had to give a name beginning with Bob. Hmm, I need emoticons for the characters. Lesseee.
Altmer: (Not the emotional type)
Latta: (What the hell is with this place?!)
Grey: (Thinkity think.)
Lex: (For the Empire! Serve, protect!)
Delmar: (Jolly old guy.)


Chapter 4.3


Cyrodiil, prison complex

Lex wheeled about.
“Yes, what’s the matter?” He inquired matter-of-factly. The fact that someone had sneaked up on him annoyed him, but did not concern him. He had full fate in the guards posted at the entrance. That this Altmer had managed to pass merely meant he had the right to pass. And if the Elf had the right to pass, who was he to question his presence? The only thing he could question was his reason for coming.

The Altmer made a swift bow.
“Angoril Bobardi, from the palace.” He introduced himself. Lex stroked his chin and nodded, while Grey looked sharply at the newcomer. For a moment, Argonian and Altmer locked eyes. No words were spoken, not a single muscle was flexed. Yet still, a message had been brought across.
“Pleased to make your aquantance, sir Bobardi. I am Cyrodiil’s captain of the guard, Hieronymus Lex. My companion here is Grey-Tongue, a private contractor From Chorrol.” The captain said after a moment.

Grey bowed as well, albeit slower than the Altmer had done.
“Good tidings. Now since we have all become aquainted, perhaps you would care to reveal your purpose?” The Argonian asked. Angoril nodded.
“Certainly. I have been sent as an unofficial representative of the palace in order to investigate this matter. More precisely, I am to investigate the perpetrator of this case, the summoner. Nothing less.” He stated.

“Excuse me, but how do you know this has been done by a summoner?” Lex desired to know. For some reason, one he couldn’t explain even to himself, the simple mention of the summoner had struck a chord in his mind.
“He must have overheard my conclusion.” Grey noted.
“Precisely.” The Altmer concurred. Lex shrugged upon hearing that. It made sense.
“Very well. Sir Bobardi, sir Grey, please accompany me as we follow the path of the suspect. Or rather, Sir Bobardi, let us follow sir Grey as he traces the path of the suspect.” The Imperial decided.

The trio entered the prisonblock which was vaguely known to Lex, new but already familiar for Grey and absolutely uninteresting for Angoril. The latter merely noted that the Dunmer in the opposing cell was no longer there. He mentally shrugged.
“Judging from the lack of blood, he hasn’t been eaten, which can only mean one thing. I bet we’ll meet again, someday. Only this time there won’t be a reason for me to show mercy.” He thought.

“Sir Grey, is there anything you could tell me about this place, as it applies to the crime?” Angoril asked.
“Of course. At the moment of the deed, both this cell and the one opposite were occupied. The cell over here had only one occupant, although it appears that multiple persons entered it for a short time last night.” The investigator began, indicating the Dunmer’s cell.
“There are minor amounts of reasonably fresh blood, along with signs of a minor struggle. There are no signs however, that this struggle led to anything more severe than superficial injury on one or more persons.” He continued.
“The other cell however, has been occupied by one person as well, although a second came to inhabit the cell recently and once again, multiple persons have passed through. In this case however, it is quite obvious why the cell was visited. As it appears, there is a tunnel leading to the sealed off foundations of Cyrodiil.”

“You keep mentioning persons. What kind of persons?” Lex cut in.
“Three persons wearing armoured boots of similar design to that of your own, captain. One man wearing slippers, two people barefooted. Judging by size, one of the barefooted persons was either a child or a Bosmer. The other has feet of average size, but the depth and shape indicates someone of less than average weight with a high center of mass, such as an Altmer. The persons wearing boots marched, and the person wearing slippers had a slight limp in the left leg, as is known of the Emperor. Therefore it is my conclusion that the one wearing slippers was our Emperor, those wearing boots were his guards and the two barefooted were prisoners who took advantage of the situation and attempted to flee when the opportunity presented itself.”

They stopped before the alcove. What had been merely a small tunnel just a few hours ago, had now become a comfortable corridor tall enough to stand upright in.
“Your skills of perception are quite impressive.” The Altmer praised.
“Although you are of course wrong in some of the details. I did not flee, nor did the opportunity present itself. Rather, I created the opportunity. Still, I’d best watch what I say, lest I reveal I know more about last night’s events.” He told himself at the same time.
“All a result of studies and experience, I assure you.” Grey answered.

“Well then, shall we move on? Workers shovelled a lot of dirt out here with spoons and it would be a shame if we did not appreciate their hard work and made use of the passage they provided.” Lex said.
“Is the dirt being examined?” Grey inquired.
“Of course, every single grain will be looked over with a loupe, and not a single one will be missed. If there’s anything special about them, we’ll find out.” Lex replied confidentally. The three stepped through the alcove and began to venture into the depths of the island the city was built on.

Posted by: Steve Mar 27 2008, 03:47 AM

Ooh, what a nice name. Though, I don't know if it is his real one. I assume it is not however..... darn.......
Yes! I like this Grey person. For some reason, I can imagine an Argonian being a detective. Imagine one with Sherlock Holmes stuff on! Quite appealing I must say. lol Wouldn't that be a nice story? Sherlock Holmes, an Argonian detective in Tamriel!

Posted by: jack cloudy Mar 27 2008, 10:29 PM

Funny enough, Grey's first appearance was indeed as a short Sherlock Holmes story. He even smoked a pipe there.

And as for the Altmer. It could be his real name. Then again, it might be a lie. And finally, I've been thinking. The title of the story is Redemption but so far, there has little redeeming been going on. Meh, whatever.

Chapter 4.4


Cyrodiil, shack

Doubt began to settle in and I barely paid attention to the Khajiit anymore. The scent was so similar, who was to say it wasn’t the same?
“But then, who?” I asked myself. But the answer eluded me. There was no one I knew who might have followed me. No one would want to. No one could. But then, that smell?
“I don’t get it. It’s just so…familiar. If it’s not them, then what? All I can come up with would be something very simil…” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the thought. I didn’t want to finish the thought. If I finished it, I would believe it. If I believed it, I would be in big trouble. But there was nothing I could do. Even if my wil was against it, my heart believed.

“Drained of blood.” Delmar’s words came back. Drained of blood, it brought back memories. Memories of one of my aunts losing it and developing a god-complex, at which point she indulged in every single urge she got like some sort of beast. She had to be put down and so she was, in a way I preferred to forget. Now I jumped up from the stool and the manacles clattered onto the floor. So they had been unlocked all this time. The Khajiit scrambled back, perhaps out of fear. If that was the case, he was as afraid of me as I was of him.

“The door.” I knew where it was, even though I could not see it. Now, I made a mad scramble for it. Staying here would be nothing short of suicide, I was sure of that. A cold voice laughed in the room, but it was not the Khajiit.
“It is not often I am found when I try to remain hidden. Now my interest has been piqu…” My hands gripped the doorbolt and pushed the door open. Precious light entered the room and the hidden person let out a sharp hiss. I didn’t wait for a reply, but ran out.

A quite inappropriate thought occurred to me. I was still wearing that damn cold and itchy prison outfit. What would the guards do if they saw me running? I didn’t know and frankly, I didn’t care. I had larger things to focus on.
“Need to get to a place with more people. Safer that way.” I came across a narrow sidepassage and looked down it. It could be just me, but I had the distinct impression there were people on the other side. So I entered it and ran through. I didn’t even make it halfway. The sudden agony that exploded through the back of my skull knocked me to the ground.
“Now now, don’t run.” The same cold voice from earlier scolded, in a rather playful tone. I barely heard him though.

While my hearing was quite impaired, my sense of touch only seemed to be even more sensitive than usual. I tried to scream when his hand closed around my throat and lifted me up. I tried, but I couldn’t make a sound. I could feel the man’s breath, as cold as his voice, whispering into my ear.
“Yes, be afraid, my dear. Be very afraid. I’m going to kill you, slowly and painfully.” He laughed after uttering the word ‘kill’.
“Can you feel them, my fingers who are crushing your throat, squeezing out the life in you? Can you feel it?”

“Can’t breathe.” My consciousness was slipping away rapidly. If this would keep up, he would kill me. I had to do something, somehow. But I felt so weak.
“You are going to die like this. Unless you do something. Something like, tear out my eyes, bite into my throat and feast on the blood in there.” The monster whispered.
“No, I refuse! I won’t!” My heart was thumping painfully in my chest, my lungs burned. He was going to kill me. To survive, I had to kill…but…I couldn’t bring myself to lifting a finger. Not because my body was too weak to move, even though it was, but because I didn’t want to kill.
“Oh, but I forgot. You are not a vampire, unlike me. So it is no miracle that you lack the instinct to kill, quickly and efficiently.”
“Vampire?”

“Unhand her, you fiend!” What was that voice? My imagination? Or was it real? I couldn’t tell, couldn’t trust my ears anymore. All sensation in my body was fading. I didn’t even feel his hand around my throat anymore. I barely noticed he’d dropped me like a sack of rocks.
“Stay out of this, Redguard!” My assailant snapped. At least, I think he did. Lying there on the dirty floor, I gasped for breath and was slowly recovering already. My hearing came back first. There, a soft swish, like that of steel being cleaned with a piece of fabric.
“It is my business now. Step away or meet my blade. Your choice.” That new voice, now I knew it was real. And fleeting footsteps told me that my would-be murderer fled the scene.
“Who came? And why?”

“Hey, how do you feel, fair lady?” I tried to look up but couldn’t make out more than a big, bright yellow blur.
“Bad.” I managed to croak. My savior bent down and rather unceremoniously propped me into a seated position against the wall. He then pressed a handkerchief against my face.
“Seems you scraped your cheek in that fall. Please permit me to treat the wound.”

For a few minutes, neither he or I said nothing. I felt awkward. No one had ever touched my face before, no one except for my parents. This just felt, weird.
“Should I stop him? It’s not right. We’re not married.” I thought. But at the same time, I knew that I didn’t really mind. And he probably had no idea he was stepping out of line. Since he’d saved me, I decided to ignore it.

My eyes cleared up after a while and I could observe my hero properly. He reminded me of the priest I met last night in the prison. He had the same skin with the colour of mud. However, he was much younger, appearing to be roughly my age. And he wore the most eye-piercing yellow dress ever.
“A guy wearing a dress? I didn’t knew that was the local fashion.” I thought.
“Hey, it’s a tunic, not a dress.” The guy protested. I sighed. Me and my mouth again.
“Please forgive me, kind sir. I wasn’t thinking straight. I should also thank you for coming to my aid.” I said formally. I saw he was wearing a headband of the same colour, and he had a curved sword carelessly stuck between his belt and this tunic.

“Oh, it is no problem. A true Ansei would save anyone from the foul clutches of that scum. Even a beggar. After all, the soul of he who has no coin is worth as much as the soul of he who has a thousand.” The guy replied casually. I frowned a bit. Ansei?
“Must be some kind of profession.” I concluded after giving it some thought.
“Even so, it would not be fitting if I did not show you some gratitude. My name is Maorlatta Orgnum and once again, I give you my deepest gratitude.” I said.
“Sorian. Well met, lady Orgnum. Forgive my boldness, but who was that demon of a man?” I wondered what to call him. We weren’t on a first name basis yet. That would be so uncivilized. Well the other guy called him Redguard. I could probably call him that. It didn’t sound like an insult, even though the tone had been hostile.
“If I knew, sir Redguard, I would tell. However, I never even saw his face. Perhaps you could describe him?” I doubted it would do much good. The only people whose name I knew here were Delmar and that old man, Septim. Neither of them had that voice and neither looked strong enough to catch up with me, pick me up by one hand and keep me suspended for over a minute.

Posted by: Lord Revan Mar 28 2008, 02:01 AM

This girl was obviously very sheltered....... It's nice to see a character who is somewhat ignorant and naive of the way the world works.

Posted by: Olen Mar 28 2008, 11:42 AM

Good stuff, the plot is certainly thickening.

neither he or I said nothing you mean anything, I think, double negative and all that.

Still I'm enjoying this though the altmer's name isn't what I expected.

Posted by: The Metal Mallet Mar 30 2008, 07:17 AM

Yes, things are moving along nicely. You keep making all these interesting characters Jack, I can't help but enjoy reading about them.

Posted by: jack cloudy Apr 1 2008, 09:43 PM

Now this is new. We don't skip to the Altmer this update. No sirs and madams, we continue right where we left off. Namely Latta and her first encounter with the love interest. (Ahem, you wish. Love interest, oh brilliant. I'm cracking myself up. )

Chapter 4.5


Sorian’s eyes darted up to the sky as he thought.
“Well…um…that is to say…It is really dark in this alley, so I couldn’t quite get a good look at him myself. Other than that he was wearing the darkest robe I’ve ever seen, I am afraid I am unable to give you a suitable description.” He stammered. I sighed.
“I don’t know anyone who wears that kind of clothing.”

Again we lapsed into silence. I was starting to wonder why he didn’t leave. He had already saved my life, so why didn’t he move on? Not that I minded him staying close, who knew when that creep would come back. A gut feeling told me I hadn’t seen the last of him. But still, that was none of Sorian’s business, I’d say. My eyes fell on that sword again. The lack of a scabbard made him look extremely careless.
“That edge looks obscenely sharp. It could cut through his tunic and stab into his side with just a slightly wrong movement.”

Sorian chuckled.
“Don’t worry, I’ve kept this Shamshir at my side for two years now and not once have I injured myself with it.” He said. It made me think a bit further. Well he did scare off that guy back there, so perhaps I should try to form a contract with him. I stood up and brushed off my clothes as good as I could. My cheek still burned slightly, which made me worry that my appearance had taken a turn for the worse.
“Ahem, I was wondering, are you currently employed, sir Ansei?” I asked politely. The guy scratched the back of his head as he jumped to his feet with remarkable grace. With some training, I bet he could become a court dancer in no time. If he had ambitions for that.

“Err…currently unemployed.” He admitted with some hesitation. Well, that made sense. No guy ever likes to say that he doesn’t do anything usefull.
“Well, I won’t call saving my life useless.” I thought as I cleared my throat.
“Ahem. It has come to my attention that remaining within this area is not safe. However, there still certain obligations I have to fulfil before leaving. Therefore, I was wondering…would you be willing to accept the duty of being my protector?” I then asked in a formal way.
“What’s the pay?” Well, that was rather straightforward. A bit blunt as well.

I shrugged and indicated my clothes.
“I am currently unable to provide you with any compensation for your efforts. However, I will set out to remedy this situation as soon as possible and umgfh!...” My attempt at persuading him was cut off when he clamped a hand over my mouth. It smelled like sweat, and dirt, some traces of tar. The structure was hard and rough, like that of a worker.
”Hush, I think I heard something.” He whispered urgently and flicked out his sword with the other. Contrary to my expectations, his belt wasn’t torn to pieces in the process of drawing the naked blade.
“Heard something?” My eyes darted left and right, before settling on a pigeon that was pecking at the dirt a few steps away. Sorian’s eyes followed my own and he relaxed once he’d seen the bird as well.

“My apologies.” He said calmly and removed his hand.
“Anyway, I’ve got a question for you, mylady. Do you perhaps have in your possession something that is worth far more than anything material you were thinking of offering? I mean, like skills?” He then asked. I cocked an eyebrow and held my head sideways, quite confused.
“Skills?” I repeated slowly.
“What is he trying to ask me?”

“I have completed First and Second grade of medicinal studies, which grants me a license to conduct healings for all common diseases and injuries within my homeland. Furthermore, I am familiar with courtly ethics, several written languages, basic economy, sailing, fishing techniques, sewing…” Again he cut me off, though this time he merely raised his hand instead of slamming it into my face.
“Those languages? Care to give me an example?” He inquired.
“Modern Cyrodiilic, Second Era Altmeri, First Era Meric, Dwemeric.”
“What?! You can read Dwarven?! Go away!” Sorian blurted out. I blushed.
“Note to self: Don’t say you can read Dwemeric.” I muttered before replying in a louder tone.
“A bit. Is that such an unusual occurance these days?”

Sorian blinked and began to scratch the back of his head again.
“Well, I guess it’s not such a big deal anymore. I mean, yeah, of course I heard the rumour that some Dark Elf has translated Dwarven and brought out a book on the ubject. Never saw it in the bookstores though.” The way he said it, it was obvious he had never been in a bookstore in the first place. Neither had I, not on the mainland.
“Although, first Era Meric? Could that mean Ayleid? I think…” He continued, more to himself than to me. He then snapped his fingers.
“I’ve got a proposal of my own. How about we team up for the moment. We’ll go into the professional archaeology. You’ll be the translator, I’ll be the one who protects you from all the undead. We’ll split the profit fifty-fifty. So, what do ya say?”

I was surprised by the sudden change of subject. So that was what he had been aiming for. I took a quick glance at my clothes. He’d taken me for a beggar at first, even though I was obviously wearing a prison outfit. So he wasn’t a local. And also, from what I’d gathered, people with knowledge of written languages older than themselves are very rare here. We might actually turn a profit right here in the heart of the mainland Empire. That would work, might even be faster than going into the trading-bussiness.
“Never saw myself as a treasure-hunter.” I giggled at the thought.
”I will accept, if you were willing to provide me with some more suitable clothes.” I finally responded. The more suitable clothes turned out to be a copy of his own tunic which he kept in a small backpack, only eyepiercing blue instead of yellow. Obviously, he’d accepted.
“Ah well, it’s better than having every guard arrest you because he thinks you’ve escaped from jail.”

Posted by: jack cloudy Apr 25 2008, 09:14 PM

Yup, in case you hadn't figured it out already. Grey is the Sherlock Holmes of Tamriel.


Chapter 4.6


Cyrodiil, foundations

At the end of the tunnel, they emerged in the chamber the Altmer already knew. The corpse of the assassin had been carried off to some other place and now only a pair of Legionnaires stood in the room to provide light with torches. The Altmer formed an expression of mild disgust as he put his foot down into the kneedeep pool of water that had formed.
“A bit cold, isn’t it?” Lex quipped.
“Indeed.” Angoril replied. The captain stomped off towards the two legionnaires, splashing at each step.
“Hmph, can’t even stand a bit of water. Superior physique my behind. I’d say they’re just too ‘civilized’ for their own good.” The man whispered under his breath. Within moments, he was locked in a hushed conversation with the two Legionnaires.

The Altmer watched the conversation from a distance. What none of the other beings knew, was that he was using his skills at bending air to form a tunnel. A tunnel through which the sound was amplified, enabling him to eavesdrop on the conversation taking place. After listening for a while, Angoril concluded that the three Imperials held no new information for him. That left only the private investigator, who was now fumbling with a gold-rimmed pipe in his snout. A small spark of fire erupted from Grey’s fingers and the pipe was lit.

“Forgive me for being so blunt. I’ve never seen an Argonian smoke.” The Altmer said. Grey inhaled deeply before answering.
“And I doubt you’ll see it happen again. It takes practise to handle a pipe meant for humanoids. But over the years I’ve found that it helps me relax, and think.” He answered to which Angoril nodded.
“I see. Regardless, I believe that our time would be ill-spent with small-talk. Exactly what can you reveal to me about…” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand.
“…Place?”

The Argonian pointed at the gate the two Legionnaires were guarding.
“That gate leads deeper into the foundations of the city. At the moment, we have hired a group of Argonian sailors to map the area. A generous donation in both money and trading rights ensures that they won’t touch anything. As for the flooded conditions, they appear to be recent.” He told. The altmer frowned.
“Recent? You mean it has not always been flooded? By always I mean, for generations. My apologies.” He inquired.

“Indeed I meant recent. If you look closely, the walls are not smooth, but rather are marked with various symbols. The fact that we can still see these symbols clearly, tells me that the water has not been here long enough to corrode the bricks. Also, I see no aquatic lifeforms and the sailors have reported drowned rats. The rats are all fresh corpses as well, less than a day old. No, most likely the flooding occurred suddenly, and last night.” Grey explained patiently.
“Suddenly. Sir Grey, that would suggest that an opening has been made to the lake. Perhaps the assassins used it to escape?” The Altmer asked. The investigator shook his head.
“I doubt it. The sudden flooding, one would have to shield oneself from the rush of water. It is hard to imagine, even for me. But tonnes of water, all pouring into the foundations. Tonnes of water. To form a barrier able to deal with that kind of situation, that is more than a mere cantrip. There was more than one assassin, on that we all agree. One mage, with tremendous skill, just might shield himself and only himself. But not even the Imperial Battlemage, Ocato, can do that. Finding multiple mages of that level, if they exist, then how come we haven’t heard of them? Finding one mage who can shield both himself and all of his accomplices, I can’t think of many with that kind of skill.”

Lex turned away from the two Legionnaires.
“Pardon the intrusion. But sir, you mentioned that you can’t think of many. Does that mean you do know someone capable of such a feat?” He interrupted. The Altmer allowed himself a barely visible smile of amusement.
“I’m not the only one who is eavesdropping, it seems.”
“Captain, you are correct. The Tribunal, the gods of the Dunmer in Morrowind can. I have little doubt regarding that. However, recent events have resulted in the death of two of the three Tribunal gods and the last one has refused to leave his temple ever since. Earthly politics are beneath the last god’s interest and even if they were, why would he come here in person? Why pursue assassination, when one holds the power to levitate a small mountain for centuries with no apparent exertion? Would it not be far easier to merely slay the Emperor from afar with a spell?” The Argonian said and took a puff of his pipe.

“No, captain. The Tribunal is not involved. There is the man who allegedly has slain two Tribunal gods as well as a demon from the same religion. I lay great doubts to those stories but even if they are true, I could present the same arguments. Why use assassins, with a low chance of success, when you are powerful enough to breach any of the defences surrounding our liege with little effort?” He shrugged.
“This man, is he just an imaginary monster?” The Altmer asked. Grey laughed.
“A monster? No. Despite killing the sacred gods in an influential religion, he is considered a hero by the Dunmer, not a monster. The two Tribunal gods he’s slain? Those were mad and a threat to the people they were supposed to protect. There are many documents about him, all of which provide the same description. Did you know that this man is a Redguard? The Dunmer would normally loath to admit that their hero is not one of their own. So most likely, he does or I should say, did exist. But as I already said, I doubt he really did all that. No mortal could ever face a god and win, right?”

Their conversation was cut short by a ripple in the water. A green snout emerged, soon joined by another. The snouts were followed by the rest of the two Argonian’s bodies.
“We have found the opening you seek, sirs.” One said.
“No trouble, I presume?” Lex asked in response.
“Only some Slaughterfish. As well as this.” The second one held up what appeared to be a soaked robe. It was crimson in colour and Angoril recognized it instantly.
“Where did you find this?” He wished to know.
“On a corpse. There were four of them, all wearing the same thing. Archers.”

Grey put out his pipe.
“Four, all wearing the robe we found on the first suspect? No one in a different garb? This…the suspects made a mistake. Perhaps the Emperor even escaped. But how? How did our liege survive? I don’t…” He fell silent. After a moment of thought, he took the robe and handed it to the Altmer.
“It is made from Colovian Silk. We do not know who sells this garb, for it has no markings which suggests a custom job. I suggest the following. You will follow this robe to the summoner, he or she will lead you to Septim. I will continue my investigation here and follow my own path. Regardless, we should both be able to find the Emperor in the end. For contacting me, go to Chorrol. The priest there is a friend of mine and can relay any message.”

Angoril took up the robe and carefully folded it.
“Understood, that does seem to be a good course of action. Any objections, captain?” He said. Lex shrugged.
“My job is to preserve law and order in the Imperial City. The investigation is something best left to the professionals. Do what you need to do, but don’t forget to ask one of my men for permission if you need to raid a house or take other technically illegal actions.” He answered.
“Very well then. Captain, sir Grey. I will depart immediately. The sooner I am in Chorrol, the greater my chance of apprehending the summoner will be.”

Posted by: jack cloudy Apr 26 2008, 06:39 PM

Chapter 4.7


Cyrodiil, western gate

“They’re kinda cute, don’t you think?” I said to my new ‘partner’. Sorian threw a quick glance at the beasts before settling his eyes back on the map.
“They’re just horses, and too expensive for us.” He mumbled.
“So that’s a horse? Interesting.” There were five of them, nibbling on the grass in a fenced enclosure.
“I’m not implying we should buy one. I have no use for a pet, especially one as large as this.” I replied. The Redguard nodded but didn’t say anything. His finger traced a road on the map, settling somewhat north and west from where we were right now.

“They’re not pets. Anyway, I’ve got the perfect location right here, about three hours down the road.” I looked over his shoulder at the spot he’d indicated. There was a little circle drawn there, but I had no idea what that represented.
“Could you please explain to me what that symbol means, sir?” I asked Sorian.
“Certainly. That milady, is a well.” I frowned, sceptically. Sorian snickered when he saw that, which annoyed me for a bit.
“Ahem. Yes, I realize that a well is not a place where profit can be made. However, the wells are all interconnected by a system of canals. If we climb down through a well and then follow the canals, we’ll be able to enter one of the abandoned cities.” He explained.

I held up a finger.
“Forgive me for my lack of comprehension, but why do we need to climb down a well? Wouldn’t it be a lot easier to merely walk through the front gate?” I inquired. Sorian folded up the map and put it in his backpack while answering my question.
“The gates have all been sealed generations ago. All easily accessible portions of the Ayleid cities have been plundered and there’s nothing left there, except undead. If the conventional entrances weren’t sealed, bandits could turn the ruins into their hideouts, not to mention all the zombies and skeletons that could come out and wander the countryside.”


What he called a three hour walk, became a five hour walk. In the end though, we made it to the well. It wasn’t much on the outside, just a low ring of grey stone, overgrown with moss. A horse-like beast, except a bit slimmer and with forked horns growing out of its head, was grazing next to it. When we approached, it fled. I sat down with my back against the well.
“Before we climb down, I suggest a break.” I said. Sorian snickered. He’d been doing that a lot. I knew he was trying not to, but I still noticed whenever he was laughing at me. It was seriously getting on my nerves by now.
“May I ask you what is so amusing?” I asked as cold as I could while still being polite.

Sorian stopped snickering instantly. For a moment, he looked ashamed.
“Ah, it is nothing. Yes, a break sounds fine.” He answered. But he didn’t take a break himself. He took out a long stretch of rope and began to bind it around the nearest tree.
“Right, right. Show that your feet are not aching. As if I care.” I thought and sighed.
“I feel so inferior right now.”

“With all due respect, milady. You merely have the physique of a city-person. Don’t worry about it. You’ll adapt in a while.” Sorian spoke, still working on the rope. I held back another sigh.
“I’ve really got to do something about this habit of thinking out loud.” I told myself angrily.
”And I don’t have a city-person’s physique. I’m just not used to walking for extensive periods. Although, doesn’t that mean the same thing?”

Out of a sudden urge to show off, I forced myself to stand up and walk over to the tree. Sorian looked at me for a moment before continuing his business with the rope. I bent down to inspect the knot he’d used.
“I don’t believe that will hold.” I noted.
“Really?” Sorian muttered and bent down as well.
“You have used a single knot. It is suitable for laundry, but it won’t hold my weight, by far. Perhaps long enough to descend, but not long enough to ascend.” I explained and began to untie the knot. All of a sudden, Sorian began to laugh.
“So what you’re saying is, that you’re fat?”

I glared at him and grit my teeth. As sudden as he’d begun to laugh, just as sudden he stopped and turned away. He didn’t apologize, but I did see how he hung his shoulders in shame.
“Now I get it. All this time I thought he was nobleborn but he’s not. We’re from two different worlds. He’s been raised in the wilds beyond the citywalls, I’ve been raised in a cozy palace. That’s why he’s been laughing at me all the time. Our experiences and values are so different, everything I do makes me look like a child in his eyes.” I turned away and retied the rope into a proper knot with quick movements.
“He’s been trying to act like someone from my world, but he keeps slipping on a role he’s not used to play…Did I say that out loud again? He’s not responding, so I guess I didn’t. Good.”I wondered if I should apologize to him and tell him to act natural around me. I really didn’t want to see him act like some kind of rude and barely civilized adventurer around me, but I did need to keep him happy. He was my bodyguard now, after all.
“Forget it. Let him shiver like that for a while longer.”

Once I was finished with the knot, I went back to the well and peered down. I could just barely see the bottom. There appeared to be water, but nothing moved below so it seemed safe enough.
”I have no intention of waiting any longer.” I told Sorian and climbed down. Sorian didn’t say a word as he followed. I sighed and focussed on the climb instead of him. Yet still, a thought refused to leave my mind.
“I hope he’s learned his lesson. That was just rude. Me, fat?” I looked down at my waist.
“Well, maybe I could do to replace some with a bit more muscle.” I blinked and jumped down the last two metres. The water splashed up to my knees but went no further. As I’d already guessed, the waterlevel was barely high enough to submerge my feet.
“What am I thinking? I’m not fat and I don’t need to get more muscle. Seriously, I’m like twice as athletic and half as heavy as all of my sisters, half-sisters and even some of my brothers and half-brothers. I’m good enough already! Being musclebound is his job, no need for me to get all apologetic!” Now I was just as angry at myself as I was at him.

Posted by: Olen Apr 26 2008, 08:32 PM

Nice stuff. This is good, I can't wait to read more. I can see the ayleid ruin being more than she expects...

I want more...

Posted by: The Metal Mallet Apr 28 2008, 01:35 AM

Hehe, Latta is always thinking, you'd think she'd just stop thinking if she happens to just blurt out stuff she's thinking about every now and then. I guess we'll see how the ruin adventure will go.

Posted by: jack cloudy Apr 30 2008, 09:58 PM

Chapter 4.8


Cyrodiil, prison complex.

Once back outside, Angoril wasted no time. He cast a glance at a house’s window to make sure no one was following before ducking in a back alley. He moved a fair distance from the main road before raising his hand in preparation for casting a spell. Tendrils of magicka were cast out from his hands and traced a circle around his feet.
“Stay out of this, Redguard! It’s none of your business!” Faintly echoed amidst the walls. It was a harsh sounding voice. The Altmer paused and looked in the direction from where the words had originated. Sure enough, a black shadow came rushing around the corner. Angoril soon noticed that it wasn’t a shadow, but a pale man cloaked in a black robe. If that man wanted to progress any further, it would have to pass him first.

The man had noticed him as well. In an instant, he had bared a dagger, flipped it over till he was holding it by the blade and raised it as if he was about to throw it. But then, he froze.
“That face…I didn’t expect to see you ever again.” He said in a cold voice, mixed with a slight amount of fear. Angoril smiled.
“Good day. Meeting you is quite a fortunate incident. Would you be so kind and hold your breath for a moment?” He replied with a chuckle. The man frowned in apparent confusion. Then his eyes widened in shock as they were both drawn underwater.

“What was that?! Water?! In an alley?!” The robed man shouted as soon as he could breathe again. Angoril was covered in a thick column of steam for a moment.
“Ah yes. The Shiftgate has a rather peculiar appearance, wouldn’t you say? While it does have the unfortunate habit of soaking you to the bone, which leads one to taking certain measures in order to get dry, its rapid transit is undeniable.” He answered calmly.
“Don’t play jokes with me, Battlemage! Where are we?! And what are you doing here?! You’ve been dead for decades! Or was that all a lie?!”

The Altmer laughed.
“You have changed, Vicente. So many questions. I haven’t seen that side of you. You always used to carry yourself as if you know everything.” He looked the man in the eye and laughed again.
“Very well, I will answer just one question. At the moment, we have relocated to the Colovian region, just a short walk from Chorrol. By the way, if you wish to address me by a name, use Hides-among-the-old-Roots’. That would make things much easier.”

Vicente spun around. Wherever he looked, he saw trees and bushes. He struck one with his fist and found that the trees and the bushes were real. The Altmer wasn’t lying. This wasn’t merely an illusion. They had moved. He tucked the dagger within the folds of his robe before turning to the Altmer.
“Hides-among-the-old-Roots? That is an Argonian name. So, you don’t want anyone to know you’re back, am I right?” He muttered darkly.
“Quite the contrary, vampire. I have already revealed myself to a certain individual other than you.” Angoril said.
“Which individual?” Vicente inquired.
“I’d rather not tell.”

The vampire gave the Altmer a playful jab.
“Oh come on…Hides. How long have we known each other? How long have we been friends? Surely you can tell your old buddy Vicente Valtieri.” He cackled. Angoril’s eyes blazed with a cold fury as he looked down upon the robed man.
“We are not friends nor have we ever been. If you ever dare touch me again, you will not live long enough to regret it. Am I clear?” He hissed. Vicente backed off, his hand on his dagger again. But his hand was shaking. He felt that for once, he was outmatched.
“Very clear, Hides.” He said demurely.

“Good. Don’t forget it. However, since I’ve piqued your interest. Perhaps I could call upon the aid of the Dark Brotherhood again?” Angoril commented as if nothing had happened.
“Who do you want dead? The Emperor? I hate to break the news, but rumour has it he was slain just last night…” Vicente begun but cut himself off.
“Wait a minute. The timing is just too perfect. One night, the Emperor gets murdered and the next day you return. That can only mean one thing. Well, I see that you haven’t lost your edge. If you ever find world-domination to be boring, know that the Brotherhood always has a place for one with such diverse talents as you. Anyway, who do you want dead?” He chuckled.
“At the moment, no one. Perhaps later, perhaps never. Rather, I want your colleagues to merely observe a certain faction that wears red robes made of Colovian Silk. The make is quite crude, and the robes are custom-made. I want you to observe any individual wearing such garb. Deliver the reports anonymously to an Argonian investigator known as either Grey-Tongue or sir Grey. That is all.” Angoril explained.

Vicente spat on the ground upon hearing that his order had been asked for a simple observation job.
“If you were anyone else, I would have refused and crushed your throat. But since it’s you, I’ll take it into consideration. What’s the pay?” He spoke.
“The continued existence of you and your beloved Brotherhood. I believe that would be good enough, now wouldn’t it? And I assume I shall tell you who knows of my existence, if I feel like it.” The Altmer replied and turned to walk away.

“Oh, by the way. Your latest toy, how was it?” He asked casually over his shoulder. Vicente scowled.
“What, do you want to steal her as well?” He growled.
“If I so desire, I shall. Are you planning to oppose me?” Angoril wondered with a cocked eyebrow.
“I won’t. I didn’t live centuries just to get killed by you. Fine, she is average. Got talent, pretty good chameleon spell, although it seems to be limited to her skin and doesn’t extend to her clothing. Good senses too. Only flaw is she’s got no killer instinct. Isn’t even willing to save her own life. Thought she was a vampire for a moment, but no.” The Vampire hissed angrily. He then shrugged.
“But instinct can be bred. If what I’ve seen of that Redguard kid follows my knowledge of mortal minds, he’ll get her to hate him in no time and when that happens.” He slowly drew a finger across his throat while grinning.
“Kids these days snap easily and when they snap, they’ll cling to anyone who is willing to accept them.”

“I see. I suppose you wish to return to observing her. Now I would be delighted to form another Shiftgate that can return you to Chorrol but unfortunately, I’m on a tight schedule. Good day.” Angoril said in a disinterested tone and walked away. Once he had vanished amidst the trees, Vicente let out a howl of rage.
“You self-righteous, arrogant honoured user! I hope another champion appears and kills you! For good this time!” He roared.

Posted by: Olen May 1 2008, 02:16 PM

That last line confirms my suspicions: Angoril isn't the name most people know him by I think. I didn't see the dark brotherhood getting involved, I like the twist. In fact I genuinly have no idea where this might go.

Posted by: raggidman May 1 2008, 02:17 PM

Was thinking Jagar Tharn - looking like it is him now too oops - did I give the game away?

edit: ok - there was that indignation about the Battlespire. Who has been though it? Could be the hero who discovered the invasion thereof? But then when did he betray the Emperor, and what global ambitions did he have? Who else is left one wonders?

Anyways, Minque has been saying you would improve and you are improving for so long now it almost makes me feel young again. Soon I guess I will have to read Oasis ... hmmm or can I put that off for a bit longer by doing something else?

Oh, I know, I can read another chapter of this - hint: WANT MORE

Posted by: jack cloudy Aug 15 2008, 09:45 PM

Ok, after way too long of a pause, I'm back. Err...I suppose I should tell you guys and gals the reason for my absence. My internet got blocked by my dad. While the argument for the blocking had some merit. "All that time messing around is bad for your studies." I do have one counterargument. (Which failed miserably.)
Namely, school was already over! What was I supposed to study? How to gracefully accept my diploma?

Speaking of which, yup I graduated and am now 200 km from home, about to go to the university of Nijmegen.

Anyway, I am also afraid I have to say my creativity plummeted during the period I couldn't get on here. So you get half a Latta segment from me now. (I actually had a full one, but I disliked the last half and deleted it...five minutes ago. Too much yelling and it became a bit unbelievable.)


Chapter 4.9



Ayleid ruin.

There were two ways we could go. Both looked exactly the same, a low but wide passage of smooth stone and thick white vines of some sort. While the passages didn’t draw my eyes, the vines did. Perhaps I could use some of them later one. One never knew if there was some true gold hidden among the dirt, as my mother would say. I bent down for a closer look as well as a very careful sniff. As soon as I smelled it, I got a thickheaded feeling, which told me enough. There could be some real gold in that plant. I might be able to use it as a painkiller but till I’d gotten a chance to read up on the local flora, I wasn’t going to try. I might consider myself capable with alchemy, but not so capable I could take risks like an apprentice without facing the consequences. It might actually be highly poisonous.

I turned away from the vines and saw that Sorian had already moved ahead. He was such an impatient guy. I cocked an eyebrow as I saw his back vanish in one of the pitch-black tunnels.
“You bet he’s going to be blind in there. I mean, he’s not a bat.” I mumbled.
“An Ansei has mastered all senses, and does not rely on sight alone. In fact, take his eyes and he shall not suffer any loss.” The Redguard said with fanatic zeal. So much for him being quiet.
“Does that mastery include common sense? I hope so.” I whispered to myself and rolled my eyes.
“Although I have to admit he’s got sharp ears, having heard my mumbling and all. But not the whispering, fortunately.”
And just what was this Ansei he was going on about all the time? Some kind of superbeing?

I stifled a condescending snicker. He wasn’t one himself. I could hear one of his sleeves rustle against the wall. He was upholding the ancient tradition of walking in dark spaces with one hand on the wall beside him. So much for not suffering at the loss of sight. And what was that other rustling sound just to my left? It was annoying. I stopped, so did the rustling. Now I knew what it was.
“Oh, this is ridiculous. I’m critiscizing his technique, while I’m doing the exact same thing myself.” I giggled to myself.

“Could you be quiet?” Sorian hissed suddenly.
“Oops, forgot about his ears.” I scolded myself. The need to apologize arose, but I remembered his earlier behaviour and still wasn’t willing to back down.
“No, I couldn’t. In fact, I don’t see any reason why I should be quiet. If I were, how would you know I was still behind you?” Was my rather snarky reply.
“Well, where else would you be? I’m not worried about where you are, I’m more worried about..” I stopped listening.
“This is getting ridiculous. I’ve got the perfect lightsource so not using it would be plain stupid. Flare.”

“Wah!” Sorian weeled around without warning and pulled out his sword. The steel flickered in the light and I screeched. We were both cast in darkness again.
“You should have warned me you were going to summon fire. I thought a Lich had come up behind me.” The guy sighed after a tense moment. A tense moment that made place for an embarrassing one.
“Well maybe if you weren’t so jumpy, I wouldn’t be sitting on my…I wouldn’t be sitting in this unclean water now!” I scrambled back onto my feet and tried as best as I could to wipe off the grime. I was still soaked though.
“Next time, don’t point your sword at me. Flare!” The small spark erupted over my open palm again.
“I’m a person who needs light, not an Ansei. So if you don’t mind, I’ll give us something to see by."

We moved on again. This time, Sorian walked with his hands dangling down his sides.
“First thing I’m going to do once we get out of here and sell the first batch, is get myself a new partner. One who doesn’t get on my nerves!” I shook my head at the thought. If this was how we were going to interact for the next few days, my future looked bleak.
“Speaking of selling, I don’t want to go back to Cyrodiil. Being the capital, it provides the most opportunity for selling any ancient trinkets, but it is also the place where I was imprisoned, nearly got raped, shot, eaten by a fish, murdered. I hate that place. And what happened to Delmar?”
“I hope he’s fine.”

“Hope who’s fine?” Sorian asked.
“Could you please stop peering into my thoughts?” I seethed.
“I’ll check up on him when we go back.”
“Well maybe if you weren’t constantly thinking out loud, I wouldn’t be tempted.” He countered. He actually had a good point.
“Then just ignore me. And something reeks here.” I snapped regardless. With every further exchange of words between us, I was just getting angrier. And it showed.
Sorian folded his arms and turned to me.
“I don’t care about what you smell. Just be quiet. Or if you can’t be quiet, you take the lead!” He complained.

I brushed past him without hesitation.
“Fine! I’ll go ahead. Geez, what’s your problem? Are your ears really that sensitive?” I grumbled. Sorian said nothing.

Posted by: Steve Aug 16 2008, 10:07 PM

YES!!! The story continues!

Excellent, It's good to see Redemption being continued!
Thank you very much Jack Cloudy!

And if your dad ever tries a stunt like that again! tell me, and I will personally send him a strongly worded letter!!!

Posted by: Remko May 14 2010, 06:59 PM

[necromancer mode]And then.... nothing.... [/necromancer mode]

Posted by: jack cloudy Nov 24 2011, 10:50 PM

And then indeed nothing. So more than three years later I'm trying to pick up the pen again. Don't have anything better to do anyway. I also want to go back to reading other people's fanfics while I'm at it. Let's see if it lasts. I just hope I'll remember all the old plotpoints I'd decided on. Unlike smarter folk, I never wrote down an outline of the story.



Chapter 4.10


Near Chorrol

“You self-righteous, arrogant honoured user! I hope another champion appears and kills you! For good this time!” Angoril’s eyes narrowed.
“Vicente, hold your tongue. Do not force my hand. You would not enjoy it.” He thought venomously. The Altmer then shook his head as he climbed to the top of a small hill. He had to admit to himself that he’d rather not met the vampire. Being a drinker of blood and a high-ranking member of the Dark Brotherhood, his loyalties were never in doubt.
“It is only such a shame that your loyalties never lay with me. As long as you fear me, you will cower among the shadows, but if that fear were ever to fade…” He did not finish the thought. It was not important, not at the moment. Besides, if that fear were ever to fade, he would simply have to restore it.

He reached the top of the hill and stopped to look at the surrounding landscape. Even from here, his view was obscured by the many trees. While he knew he was somewhere near Chorrol, he didn’t know his exact location relative to the city. On top of that, wilderness navigation had never been his strongest point. He would need to be able to see all around him in order to find Chorrol.
“Levitation? No, I’d rather not in case someone sees me. I could perform an illusion to make myself look like a bird of course, but let’s not. It would be better if I used a natural vantage point. One such as…” He thought to himself and smiled. From where he was standing, he could just barely make out the tip of a bleached white tower rising above the treeline. One of the many forts that had been built in Cyrodill throughout the ages, no doubt. It was the perfect solution. Even if someone saw him on top of the tower, no one would find it unusual. Adventurers and local children did it all the time, usually in search of their respective definition of treasure. Also, there didn’t seem to be any roads nearby which made it likely that the fort was uninhabited. Or at least not inhabited by any bandits. Those tended to operate closer to their source of income, namely lone merchants or small caravans travelling along the ancient cobbled paths of Cyrodiil.

From the top of the tower, he should be able to fix his position more accurately, The Imperial city was famous for its tower which served as a landmark no matter where one was in the province. From there, finding the direction for the city of Chorrol would be a simple matter. With those thoughts in mind, Angoril moved on.




Chorrol, northern hills.

The silk plantation he had been looking for was located just north of the city itself. He had passed Chorrol without entering. There were a few places he knew off from before his imprisonment. If those still existed, it would be faster for him to visit those than to try and find any contacts in the city itself. The moment he saw the plantation come into view among the trees, memories came to Angoril’s mind. He kept walking as his thoughts wandered off to the past. Scarcely three minutes later, the path he was following curved around a large boulder and he found himself in front of the gate. The Altmer shook his head.
“It is odd. Last time I visited this place, it was nothing but a humble hovel and some worms in a box kept in the backyard. Now, it is a sprawling complex the size of a small village. A very small village perhaps, but a village nonetheless. I wonder how the owner became so succesfull. Although, I suppose much can change over half a century.”

He paused to observe the place before going any further. It was surrounded by a solid brick wall, covered in only the smallest patches of moss and only interrupted by the gate he was standing in front of. Through the gate, he could see that there was a large three-floor building in the center and two rows of long and much lower buildings on each side. Behind the buildings lay the plantation itself, invisible to his eyes but for the telling humm of magicka-enhanced organisms. Whether those organisms were plants or animals he couldn’t tell, not from this distance. Countless rosebushes lined the path leading up to the large building and stacks of individual roses were hung in baskets on the walls surrounding the plantation as well as each individual building. The path itself was cobbled and meticulously swept clean. Finally there was the gate which provided entry to the plantation. It was a masterful contraption wrought of steel bars inlaid with a bronze relief that gave the entire construction the appearance of a metallic rosebush. Above the gate was a plaque, which told him the name. Quite fittingly, the plantation was called ‘Rosendorf hall’.

He walked up to the gate and waited till he was noticed. Within moments, a servant met him on the other side of the gate.
“Yes?” The man asked simply. Angoril bowed before answering.
“Good day. I would like to speak with the master. Would that be acceptable?” He said when he rose again. The gatekeeper frowned.
“Appointment.” He then said. While it came out as a statement, it was clearly meant as a question. It made Angoril smile. The gatekeeper did not seem to be a man of many words.

“Unfortunately, I do not have a formal appointment. However, I would appreciate it if you could just announce me.” The Almer replied in a polite tone. The other man nodded.
“He’ll decide. Name or title?”
“Imperial Customs Department.”

The moment he’d said that, the gatekeeper’s eyes widened. Just as quick though, he regained his blank expression. He was a professional and no matter who was at the gate, he would follow protocol to the letter.
“Please wait.” He spoke and marched to the tallest building. Behind his back, the Altmer allowed himself a short victorious smirk.
“Time for you to dance to my strings, good sir.”

Several minutes later, he was led into a spacious living-room. Seated in a sofa next to the fireplace was the man who could only be the master. Dressed in the finest Colovian silk, a subtle advertisement of his own products, and reading a book on poetry, a sign of a civilized person of the highest breed. The Altmer noticed the clues the man attempted to drop, then purposefully ignored them. They were the clues all successful men used, whether they be merchants or nobles. Only those who had made their fortune by steel resorted to different means of showing their sophistication. All he needed to know was that this pudgy Breton was one of the largest businessmen on the market when it came to Colovian clothing, as was apparent by the size of his estate.

The Breton looked up, then placed an exotic bird’s feather in the book to mark the page he was at. He stood up in a hurry and bowed profusely.
“The ICD! My father always spoke highly of your department. Regardless, I am Simanuel Rosendorf IV. Consider my home your home. Perhaps some tea?” He babbled, almost tripping over his own words. He was sweating only slightly, though not from excitement. There was a certain amount of fear which he couldn’t hide.
“I wonder if he’s done something illegal, on top of the usual that is. Smuggling? Illegal obstruction of his competitors? Slave labour? Or just nervous because I claim to be of the ICD and could be corrupt?”
“A pleasure to meet you, sir Rosendorf. I would be Angoril Bobardi. I thank you for the offer however, I will have to refuse. I am a busy man and can’t stay for long.” Angoril replied calmly.

Rosendorf gestured at a sofa with a smile, not taken aback at all.
“Of course. Have a seat.” He then said. Two servants entered the room and pulled back a sofa for Angoril to sit on. The Altmer sat down and waited till his host had done the same before speaking.
“Allow me to get straight to the core of my dilemma. I am conducting an investigation, a case of tax-evasion on mercantile products. Would you be so kind as to identify this robe here? Could it be one of your products?” He revealed the crimson robe and presented it to the Breton.

Rosendorf stood up for a closer look.
“Tax-evasion? I pay my taxes, like any good countryman. Ahem, this is not one of my products, thankfully. You see, we don’t sell finished garbs. We only sell raw silk to the clothiers. Silk of the finest quality, produced only by the finest silkworms imported from Argonia. Now it could very well be possible that the silk was produced on this here plantation. But I wouldn’t be able to confirm that without having a more indepth analysis conducted first.” He said resolutely after only a second of investigation. The Altmer merely cocked an eyebrow and said nothing, silently bidding the man to continue.
“Oh, but I do know what kind of person made this.” Rosendorf continued, with an expression of disgust.

“This robe wasn’t made by a proper Cyrodiilic craftsman. Please look here, sir. See this pattern of the fabric? It’s a Valenwood style, or so I’ve heard. It makes the robe quite…” He pulled on a sleeve with all his might. The robe didn’t tear.
“…durable. Yes, durable. Only a barbaric person like those Wood Elves could come up with something like that. And this item is plain on top of that! Not even the slightest frills or gold-thread. A durable robe, made of the high-quality silk. Preposterous! Why would silk have to be durable? It is a nobleman’s material! Clothing made from silk is a work of art! This, is just some mass-produced workman’s robe. And made from silk! It’s an outrage!” Rosendorf continued, his face turning red.

“You said it is a Valenwood product? Do they sell durable outfits made of Silk often in these parts?” Angoril interrupted softly. Rosendorf gently folded the robe and laid it down on a table before answering.
“Yes, I am positive it is a Valenwood product. But I haven’t heard of them using silk before, I just recognized the style that is the same they use with other fabrics. Hmm, doesn’t surprise me really. Silk is expensive. Those good for nothing thieving little midgets pretty much have to evade taxes in order to produce this much silk. It is a bit of a shame that they didn’t decorate their try at a silk product. Being a once in a lifetime chance for them, you’d expect them to try harder. If you wish to know more, you should go to a clothier owned by one of those Wood Elves. There is one in Kvatch. They don’t do silk products, but they might know someone who does.” Angoril wisely didn’t mention that the robe he’d shown Rosendorf wasn’t as rare as the man thought it was.
“They don’t do silk products? Are you sure about that, sir Rosendorf?” He muttered.
“Absolutely. We don’t do business with that store and neither do any of my competitors.” The Breton said resolutely.
“Any of your competitors? How would you know, without some espionage? Well, no matter. I already have a better tool for blackmail.”
“I see. Sir Rosendorf, On another note, would you mind if I saw your plantation for a bit?”

Rosendorf’s lips trembled, something which the Altmer observed in silence.
“Ahem, unfortunately we are conducting an extensive cleaning of all facilities right now. There was a locust plague that struck one of our neighbours you see and we don’t want to be next. The loss in revenue this quarter alone would be disastrous. Anyhow, we use alchemical products for this and it would be rather hazardous for your health if you chose to take a tour of the plantation at this time. Perhaps when you next visit us?” The Breton said, slightly too quick to be believed. Angoril shrugged and stood up.
“I am afraid that can’t be helped. As you suggested, perhaps another time. For now, I shall be off.” He replied and walked to the door which was held open by a servant. He stopped just before reaching it.
“Oh, one more thing. I noticed that some of your silkworms are low-quality mage-copies, which is illegal. So expect a fine on the order of half a million septims to land in your mailbox around next week.” The Altmer said casually. He turned around to face the Breton again, emotionless safe for an expression of mild disdain.

“What? You are mistaken!” Rosendorf yelped. To be fair, he kept himself quite well despite the shocking news.
“Mistaken? Oh, I wish I was. For me to be mistaken, that would be quite a sight. However, you forgot that a mage-copy has a distinct Magicka signature, one that is absent in the original. I can detect such signatures coming from all over your plantation. Just as an estimate, I believe one in five silkworms is false. Perhaps if you had taken the time to remember that I am an Altmer and therefore superior in the art of Magicka, you might have realized there is nothing you can hide from me. You have false silkworms which you did not report in your businessreport so you would not have to pay taxes for them. These worms produce false silk, which disintregates after roughly two months, at which point it can no longer be tracked to you. So most of your profits are gained from a false and temporary product. That is a serious crime since you do not claim to sell temporary silk. Regardless, you will have to pay the fine if you desire to stay in business, not to mention remove all false silkworms. Just be glad I allow you a chance to make amends. The alternate punishment is fifteen years in prison.”

Rosendorf’s eyes narrowed and flickered from one end of the room to the other. His self-control had begun to slip.
“But surely, the fine you named is preposterous? I mean, I’m not implying that you are preposterous, my good sir. Just that, it seems like somewhat much for such a small oversight. Besides, I don’t run this place. My father did, till he left it in the hands of his advisors. I’m merely the heir, the man who reaps the benefits and acts as the public image of the company. I had no idea this was going on, I assure you.” He pleaded calmly, but Angoril also glimpsed an expression that was one part fear, one part implied innocence and one part hate. Just the mixture of feelings the Altmer desired.
“Yet even so, as the official owner you hold full responsibility. What if the Emperor could blame every single problem on his aides? Without responsibility, there is no leash to prevent the outbursts we’ve had before. Surely you remember Pelagiad the mad? Another Pelagiad, and the Empire would fall. So that is why the Emperor holds responsibility. That is why you hold responsibility, sir Rosendorf.” The Altmer spoke.

Angoril had not moved since they’d begun arguing, nor had his expression changed. Yet there was an almost tangible menace in his voice. Rosendorf knew that any member of the Imperial Customs Department could ruin him with a single short letter. He knew that the Altmer held power over him, the power to send him into poverty. The rich Breton’s mind frantically analyzed the situation. There was no way he could get rid of the Altmer, not without drawing suspicion from the ICD. But the ICD, as well as its members, was not without flaws. He had been brought into this very same situation before, twice. Both times, the official had been easy enough to bribe. It would be expensive to add a third name to that list, but it would be less expensive than paying the fine.
“Please master Bobardi, sit down. You told me that you were a busy man, but perhaps you could stay here just a bit longer. I’m sure that we can work this out now, rather than go through a lengthy process of court and settlement later. You don’t want to be called away from your investigation after all because of my regretful mistake.”




OOC: I first wrote Rosendorf as the nervous corrupt merchantman, sweating, jumping up yelping and stuff. I then decided that given his success he should be made of sterner stuff and tried to rewrite him. The dialogue remained mostly the same, but his bodylanguage was changed. I hope I didn't miss any of the old Rosendorf.

Posted by: Olen Nov 26 2011, 06:38 PM

And then... update?! Welcome back Jackie. I remember this piece, an interesting idea behind it though I must confess I forget some of the specifics. A recap might prove helpful, or of course I could stop being lazy and find time to read it again.

Anyway nice update. I'd never thought where all the cloth came from, nice touch of realism there. It's fun to read Angoril too, he has a certain way with people.

Posted by: jack cloudy Nov 26 2011, 08:56 PM

Like a lot of games, or movies or books, the TES series tends to skip over the background industries that is needed to keep society running. We see a few token fields, but those look barely sufficient to feed the farmer's own family for example. All the mines are abandoned and the ones in Morrowind weren't all that hot either. So I think it is fine to use artistic freedom and put in whatever is needed as long as it fits. The land is a lot bigger in the lore than in the game after all.

For this update, I decided to revisit a pair of sidecharacters. I'm not sure if they've got enough going for them to support another plotline, but I just wanted to show that Hieronymous Lex and Sherlock-wannabe have done more than just twiddle their thumbs. But first, a recap. I need it myself just as much.




RECAP TIME! SPOILERS FOR EARLIER EVENTS FOLLOW.

One night, the palace is breached by unknown assailants. Following standard protocol for such events, the Emperor is secretly transported to the prison by his Blades. The Imperial Battlemage, Ocato, declines to join him, claiming that the situation is under control and that his services aren't needed.

Despite having reached the prison safely, the Emperor soon finds that he is still in danger. A Daedroth has followed him into the prison and it intends to make a late evening snack out of the old man. It is then that Uriel receives help from an unexpected ally. Angoril Bobardi reveals that the very cell he has inhabited for decades, contains a secret escape route that was built during the simulacrum at the order of Jagar Tharn. With this passage and the considerable magical prowess of Angoril, the Emperor manages to flee the deadly trap.

Also freed from the prison by Angoril is Maorlatta Orgnum, a young (by elf-standards) and somewhat naive girl who was arrested for the crime of sleeping in the park. Once free, she quickly makes herself scarce and eventually finds herself in the shack of an old fisherman who lives on an island in Lake Rumare. The fisherman seeks the help of the thieves guild to rid her of the manacles and prison outfit that would have every Legionnaire arrest her on sight. Unfortunately, the one assigned to pick the locks on the manacles informs Vicente Valtieri instead, who takes a personal interest in the girl’s talent for camouflage. Maorlatta is saved by the Redguard Sorian, a young and rather strange lad who keeps going on and on about something he calls an Ansei. The two team up to go treasure hunting in a nearby Ayleid ruin.

Meanwhile, Angoril returns to the prison. Pretending to be from the palace, he gets a vital clue from the Argonian private investigator Grey-Tongue. The Argonian sends him to Chorrol to find the source of the assassins distinctive red robes.




ACTUAL UPDATE FOLLOWS

Chapter 4.11

Imperial Prison hill

Work had progressed steadily over the last few hours in the Imperial prison. Never one to sit by idly while others obtained results, Hieronymous Lex had taken possession of the upper offices, after consulting with investigator Grey-Tongue who had concluded that the upper floors had not been touched by the mysterious summoner or his possible allies. The Desks, cabinets and other furniture had been lowered out of the window onto the streets below. Rearranged in front of the building, Lex had used the furniture to build his center of operations. Protocol dictated that the investigative center should be located in the main bureau down Talos’ Gap. Grey-Tongue however, had argued that it would result in an unnecessary bottleneck and slowdown if they had to run halfway across the city every five minutes to deliver or request a scrap of paper. The captain agreed. So now he sat just outside behind a cheap desk, confident he was near the main point of the investigation and in a place that wouldn’t require every single courier to stomp through the crime scene.

The downsides as he’d discovered, was that being out in the open also meant they were exposed to the elements. He wasn’t worried about the rain. It looked to be a dry day and stay that way till well into the evening. Just in case, a bright young Legionnaire had brought in a large canvas screen from the market and erected it over the cabinets and tables. No, water was not a concern. It was the wind that dared frustrate him now. More then once he’d ran after a report blown from his hands, and he wasn’t the only one. That still-air charm the Arcane University had promised couldn’t come soon enough.

“Good afternoon, captain. Any news?” Lex looked up to see that the investigator had finally deemed it worthwhile to come out of the Ayleid complex, his bleuish-gray scales now merely grey from old dust and dirt. In his hands he clutched the latest map of of the flooded tunnels.
“So good you could come, sir Grey. I’ve got news and I’m afraid you won’t like it. But sit down please. I did invite you to take a break and have lunch after all. The deliverymen shouldn’t take much longer to return. Jonesius! Take that map from the good investigator and hand it over to the clerks for copying, would you?” He said with a smile and gestured at the chair that till yesterday belonged to the head warden. The smile did not extend beyond his lips.

“You see, it turns out that our murderous summoner and his friends weren’t the only ones performing nefarious deeds.” The captain began, holding up his hands to cut off whatever it was the Argonian wished to say.
“I know, there are always some petty thieves mugging and burgling so this isn’t news. But the sheer magnitude of last night’s are. We have the massacre here, not to mention the breach of security at the palace that brought the Emperor here in the first place, Divines bless his soul. Four hours ago, the Arcane University contacted me and claimed that someone had accessed the mystic archives and stolen some very unique and very valuable volumes. Two hours ago, a courier came in and told me that the Imperial vaults had been opened. Half an hour ago, I got a report that Lord Geldall Septim’s mansion has been put to the torch by unknown agents. The current wherabouts of the prince and his family are unknown. I’ve sent out word to the other son’s, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they too were the victim of crime.”

Grey-tongue lit the fancy pipe he always carried and inhaled slowly, taking the chance to think. “You believe those are all related.” He hissed after a moment. The captain nodded and after a moment’s deliberation he reached for the box of cheap cigars he’d liberated from the office. Seeing the Argonian enjoy his pipe made him realize that he too could do with a nice and relaxing huff of tobacco.
“Don’t you, sir Grey?” He asked in between smokes.
“I do. It will require some formal paperwork before I can involve myself with the investigation of these other incidents, but I will begin asking questions all the same. First of all, what was taken, both from the Imperial vaults as the mystic archives?”

“The university couldn’t give me the actual title. The three stolen tomes are too old and faded for that. As for the vault, its security is part of the Blades and they didn’t even want to talk to me. Apparantly being captain of the guard doesn’t mean much inside the palace. I don’t even know if anything has been stolen, just that the vaults were opened and if I would please report any suspicious individuals and activities to them.” Lex said before tossing the lit cigar away. He’d barely touched it. Smoking today just wasn’t as satisfying as it usually was and he was certain it was not because of the inferior brand.
“I’ve got more than enough suspicious activities to report, but am sorely lacking in individuals. Normally I’d point at the Grey Fox as a suspect, but this whole thing isn’t like him. The thieves guild and their master may make a mockery of Imperial law, but they don’t start fires and they don’t murder. This isn’t the Dark Brotherhood either. Too subtle, too well organized for them. Honestly, I have no idea what is going on!” He pounded the desk for emphasis, sending up a scattering of paperwork and clerks rushing to catch the crucial documents before they were swept out to lake Rumare by the stiff breeze.

Grey sighed. He shared the captain’s frustration though unlike the Imperial, he didn’t show it beyond an agitated flick of the tail.
“Then I have the proverbial good news and bad news for you, my dear captain. The bad news is that something must have been stolen from the Imperial vaults. If nothing had vanished, its security would never have admitted to you that they have failed in their task. The good news is that I am quite certain now that our liege is still alive.”

The last words made Lex jump up. Like the sun breaking through the clouds, his smile had returned and all of his earlier anger seemed forgotten.
“Good news indeed! Please tell me all about it! You do that so well, after all.” He laughed and began to dance. After the first few steps he caught himself and made a conscious effort to calm down while Grey-Tongue wisely pretended to be oblivious to Lex’s momentary lack of discipline. It wasn’t proper for a captain of the guard to let himself go like that.

“There are three clues. First is obviously the lack of a body. We still haven’t found the corpse of either the Emperor or one of his personal guards. The second clue is from the four archers we found. Just before that Bobardi left for Chorrol, remember? I took a personal look while you set up your headquarters. What stood out right away is that the archers did not die due to drowning. I don’t know the real cause of dead, but they were still clutching their bows in rigor mortis. If they’d drowned, they would have let go when unconsciousness claimed them. Also important is the fact that some of the arrows at the scene showed the kind of damage they only could have gotten if they hit stone. And the only one we know they might have been fired at is our Emperor and his companions. Now as I said, we haven’t found a sign of them. No corpses, no blood or lost possession. Those arrows were used but missed their mark. I believe that sometime during that altercation the archers were killed. Again, I do not know how. They don’t posess the usual injuries of either weapon or destructive magicka.”

He took a deep draw from his pipe before continuing. The archers had surprised him, but it was the last clue that really confused his mind.
“The final clue is the submerging of the Ayleid complex. We already knew the flooding was both recent and sudden. I got a good look at the opening. It was smooth, perfectly circular in a way that suggest magic. I believe that is how Uriel Septim escaped. Aided by a mage worthy of legend.”
“But I definitely heard you tell sir Bobardi that was impossible. Something about shielding against the incoming water.” Lex interjected. He was certain he hadn’t misheard or misremembered.
“I did not. I said that it would be out of reach for all but the most powerful beings, such as the Tribunal or their alleged slayer. But I still do not see why the last surviving Dunmer god would become involved. Even if I reverse the situation and place this Vivec as an ally to the Emperor and foe of the assassins, the situation is strange. Why would a god wait this long, allow this much potential error? Even if the Emperor was merely meant to disappear, why not take him from his quarters through magic? Why wait till he flees to the prison to escape assassins?”

A sudden impulse took hold of the Argonian.
“Perhaps we have dismissed a seemingly unimportant element too fast, captain. The prison’s manifest. I wish to know just who the two prisoners were that joined our Emperor in his escape.”


OOC: To be honest, I don't know what to think of this update. It's a lot of dialogue, but I don't know how to liven it up. Both characters are just a tad too serious for any real jokes and the subject matter means that long lines of exposition are the norm.

Posted by: Olen Nov 27 2011, 05:15 PM

The dialogue worked fine for me. There was enough there to keep it fresh without needing an intermission or lightening.

I like how this piece is sort of following the events of Oblivion but with several things changed and following different characters. Sort of like alternate history, I'm fascinated to see how the events diverge from those of the game.

Posted by: jack cloudy Nov 30 2011, 08:22 PM

I'm thinking of diverging a bit more than I'd planned actually. Originally, I was going to murder the Emperor offscreen and proceed with a rather standard Oblivion invasion. I remember that much of the original idea. But frankly, I now think that would be just stupid and undignified. I have to get my Oblivion-jollies somehow, but saying "and then the old man croaked because once outside the competency aura of Angoril he was helpless" goes too far. Fortunately, I posted an alternate theory on the forum here somewhere. I don't remember where, but I think I can use it to get my gates, the raised tensions and a living Uriel.

I also need to return to Corrupted Heart. Redemption will be making a few more callbacks than originally planned with the new plan. But first, back to our treasure hunters.


Chapter 4.12

Ayleid Ruin

The smell had grown so overwhelming, I’d resorted to clamping my nose shut. It smelt similar to part of the backalley where Delmar had taken me, though I couldn’t tell what it belonged to. All I knew was that it wasn’t part of the usual collection of offensive odours I was familiar with. It was also slightly different to the backalley one for that matter. The other scents were familiar enough. Vegetation, fungy and dust, lots of dust. That was the bad news, or the uncomfortable one at least.

The good news was that the tunnel had grown into a wide circular room. On both sides, just at the edge of my light I could see the openings of similar tunnels to the one we’d just come from. There were probably some more on the far side of the room but I’d have to get closer to make sure. The center of the room was taken up by a large reservoir of the murky water. Fortunately there was a raised walkway running along the edge of the pit. Finally I could step out of the water we’d been thrudging through. I really wanted to get my feet dry now. It’s not that I dislike water. I like it, we all do, but only if it is clean.

“Alright, looks like we’re in the city now. Not much light here either. There’s that welkynd stone way up over there though. That would fetch a good price. You wouldn’t happen to have a spell for that, would you milady?” My bodyguard chattered away happily, soon drifting off into a long list of Ayleid objects he’d spotted at pawnshops and hoped to fill his bag with. He didn’t even give me the chance to answer. Not that it mattered. Magic was one of those areas of my studies I’d never excelled at. I could barely scrape out a passing mark from my tutors and the spells I was confident in were rather basic to say the least. So no, that Welkynd light would stay where it was.
“Going by the light output, that thing is way passed the date it should be replaced, recharged or whatever went for maintenance around here.”

“You sure this is a city? It looks like a random pit to me. A random stinking pit. No furniture, no windows or even doors.” I finally said when the endless droning began to get on my nerves. What did he even know about things? Granted, the type of stone here was rather similar to the ones I’d encountered under the prison. Didn’t the Altmer or the brown one say that place was old? I wouldn’t be surprised if this ‘city’ was built in the same timeperiod. I wasn’t going to place any bets on being right though. Admiring the architecture had not been on my mind back then.
“Well ok, so it’s a sewer. To get to the city proper, we need to go up again. Now stop complaining and start looking for a ladder or something. I don’t feel like running down tunnels randomly…milady.”

I shook my head but didn’t argue. Arguing with Sorian was as I’d discovered, a one-way trip to massive frustration and lack of results. Besides, I agreed with the desire to not go running through these sewers. He had stopped talking now, aside from the occasional mutter to have more light sent in his direction. That left only the occasional splishsplash of disturbed water somewhere down one of the tunnels. That, and the annoying smell that just seemed like it kept getting stronger even though we weren’t moving anymore. It even wormed its way into my nose even though I’d squeezed it shut.
“Wait a second. Splashing?”
“Sir Sorian?” I called over my shoulder. With some amusement, I noted that I’d returned to using generically polite forms of addressing him. The wonders that some good old quiet and busy work did to my mood.
“Hmm, did you find anything?”

“Not yet. There’s this smaller stone wedged in the wall here Which I think is a….Nevermind that! I was just thinking that I’ve seen plenty of vegetation but no animals that feed on it. You mentioned walking dead earlier. Please tell me that was a joke.” Thinking back to when we were walking to the well, he had gone on for a while about various forms of undead. The thought of walking skeletons or corpses seemed like the kind of made-up story to scare little children, but what if it wasn’t a story? It was a whole new continent, filled with new wonders, new sights, new people.
“New dangers. If grandfather hadn’t skipped over that part, I’d never have left home.”
“Err, the guy at the tavern might have been drunk, but I doubt he was lying. Besides, it helps to be cautious. Why?” Sorian answered, obviously only half listening. He also just admitted that he was as clueless about this place as I was and I had to bite back a snappy reply.
“Because I think something stinking is somewhere down…” I waved at what I thought was the right tunnel. “There and it is getting closer.” I hadn’t even finished talking or something moaned. Now I was really starting to get scared.

Sorian finally snapped to attention.
“Ok, that definitely wasn’t a good sound. And you said it was getting closer?” He said as he moved over to the tunnel I’d indicated and peered down it. A futile gesture really, since my light didn’t reach that far.
“How about we head back the way we came? No need to find out what it is. We could look for another entrance or a different ruin. Right, sir?” Again that moan, the splashing now loud enough that the Redguard heard it too.
“No! An ansei never flees before his enemy! He stands his ground and faces his foe with courage and honour!” He snapped at me all of a sudden. With a swish, his leapt into his hand and he retreated a bit closer to the center of the room, where he stood right beneath the floating flare. If anything would come in, he would be the first thing it saw.
“Now keep looking for a ladder, or a door or something!” He added.

I don’t know why I didn’t run and left him there. Maybe I was more scared of him than of the approaching dead-but-not-dead horror. So I bent back towards the odd stone I’d found and examined the grooves that cut deep into it. They looked familiar. Deep inside the grooves was more of the shimmering Welkynd stuff which helped make them stand out. It could be an expression of art, primitive art, but why put it in a place where it wouldn’t be seen?
“Ok, I can see it now. Zombie! Have at thee, miserable cur!” Sorian yelled behind my back. The following sounds of flesh getting torn and that unnatural moaning made me wince.
“Please kill it! Tell me it is dead, tell me it is dead!” I whimpered, but the violence didn’t cease.
“No! It is not dead! Falling apart with guts hanging out, but it is not dying! Now why aren’t you looking for the damned ladder?!”

The brick was the only things I could see. If I just focussed enough on it, maybe the fight would go away. Nonsense of course, but my head wasn’t thinking clearly anymore. As for the grooves, it occurred to me that they were indeed familiar. They were obviously meant as a message of some sort, and meant to last too. The script was crude, different and written in an unknown language, but it definitely had its roots in first era Meric. I could make a good guess at the core of what it said. Something about fire and opening.

I looked back at the fight. Sorian seemed to be holding his own, not that that was very impressive. The walking corpse was as clumsy as it was revolting. Each time it took a wild swing at him, he would dance just out of reach, nick the flailing appendage with his sword, then dart in for a quick strike of his own. It didn’t seem to do much good. The horrible monster appeared to have no need for vital organs, most of which were exposed and halfwithered anyhow.

“Sorian! Get closer! Over here!” I yelled and waved, hoping to get his attention.
“Why?! Kinda busy here! Why won’t you just die!” He shouted back and turned to face me. Big mistake. Finally one of the swings hit home and knocked him off his feet. The zombie lumbered in closer to the young man, who skidded backwards, trying to get back on his feet but not inside the monster's reach. He crawled too far and tumbled over the edge into the central water reservoir. Just before he went, I could see the shock on his face. He’d not planned for this.Neither did the zombie, who simply followed. Nor I, who ran down to the edge and screamed his name.

Posted by: Olen Dec 1 2011, 11:25 PM

Another update. The slightly perculiar pair are still in the ruin, something about them puts me in mind of JRPGs for some reason.

I enjoyed to zombie as a less powerful but rather indestructable opponent. I might have to steal that idea...

Posted by: jack cloudy Dec 2 2011, 10:21 PM

Just a quickie. I don't really want to write Angoril in Chorrol since it would basically be him stopping at a post office for five minutes. So instead I gallumped up a small bit before Chorrol. It's not much, just some infodumping. Next will be some more Grey-Tongue. I've got a perfectly good cliffhanger going with L&S that I don't want to waste.

Chapter 4.13


Chorrol

Before following the lead Rosendorf gave him, Angoril decided to stop by Kvatch. This was for three reasons primarily. First was that he was becoming rather hungry. While Rosendorf had thoroughly bribed and praised him, he had not offered a meal. He could easily kill and fry the first rabbit, bird or other edible animal that crossed his path. However, he’d never developed a taste for meals conceived outside a well-stocked kitche. So given the choice, he preferred a proper meal cooked by a proper cook. With his newfound wealth, he could easily afford one at middleclass tavern.

The second reason was a more pressing one. He knew the rough geographical location of Kvatch, but it was not a place he’d ever visited personally or paid any particular attention to when reading a map. Chorrol he knew intimately, and so could cast a shiftgate towards with a margin of error of only a couple hours marching. With Kvatch, that same margin of error would grow to encompass an area that would take days to cross on foot. And that was if he headed in the right direction after stepping through the portal. He wasn’t planning on wasting valuable time being lost, so some form of transportation would have to be procured at Chorrol, like a merchant caravan headed that way. Or better yet, a very detailed map so he could shiftgate from landmark to landmark all the way to Kvatch.

The third reason was the priest Grey-Tongue had mentioned as a means of staying in contact with each other. Strictly speaking, he did not need to inform the Argonian of his activities. However, Angoril knew his limitations. He could follow one trail well enough and deal with any complications he would encounter. What he could not do was being in two places at once, though he was aware of an illusion-related spell that would allow him to do just that. But the effort required to maintain said spell in a magickapoor environment such as Nirn was enormous. Not to mention the attention it would draw to him if some enemy of his were to notice. Grey-Tongue’s scheme on the other hand, suited him perfectly. By simply keeping the agreement of information-exchange, they could follow multiple lines of investigation independently and crossreference each other’s sources when needed. In the best-case scenario, Grey-Tongue and the legions would find, apprehend and interoggate all surviving members of the red-garbed group for him.

The only problem with the priest the Argonian had mention was that Angoril had simply arrived too early. He did not believe in idly spending time on the roads, but he wasn’t going to let Grey-Tongue realize just how fast he could really travel either. Angoril knew that the Argonian would not miss that detail. The investigator had been far too sharp-eyed back in the prison for that. The best option he could come up with was to not contact Grey-Tongue’s friend, at least not in person. If he bounced a letter to the Imperial City via Bruma through the simple expedient of using an envelope marked with two different inks, one visible till it faded and one invisible till it became visible, he could delay the arrival of his information. With all of his problems momentarily solved, he arrived at the gates of Chorrol.



OOC: Yes, the whole 'don't know where to find Kvatch' is really just an excuse to draw his timeframe back in synch with those who are not blessed with wet fast-travel.

Posted by: jack cloudy Dec 4 2011, 07:32 PM

I'm trying something new here. Since Lex and Grey-Tongue literally sit around and talk, I decided to write the dialogue first and then everything around it.



Imperial Prison Hill

“The prison’s manifest? It’s not all in one document, that would be too unwieldy. I had someone grab all the paperwork we could find and store it in a couple of crates for now. I’ll try to find something useful.” Lex said and began to rummage through the boxes just to his right.
“Looking back, I should have ordered him to sort the mess before stashing all the paper. Let’s see what we’ve got here. Gambling tally, who’s in debt with who, some crude drawings…very crude, a poem of some sort…that one is actually not too bad. I wish I’d met that poor guard before. Man had talent. But I digress. Ah, this looks like a good place to start. An occupancy list of the prison cells.” He continued and handed over a thick book whose cover had seen better days.

Grey-Tongue had to put out his pipe before accepting it. Talking with the smoking instrument dangling from one’s mouth was an art he’d seen often before but had failed to replicate. He blamed it on his lack of lips.
“Yes captain, this looks helpful. It only gives names and some very basic information however, so I’d appreciate it if you were to look for a manifest that can give us more about the persons behind the names. As for this one, it seems that the book is arranged by prisonblocks and then a section for each individual cel. Which prisonblock is the one we’re looking for?”
“V, it’s the last one.”

The Argonian thumbed to the end of the book where he found the three pages they were looking for.
“Thank you…It seems that block V had a few guests over the years. Cell 1 looks like it has been empty for the last few years, which fits our observations of its usage as a storeroom. Cell 2 was last occupied by one Valen Dreth.” At the mentioning of the name, Lex grimaced, as if he had eaten a particularly sour lemon.
“I remember that scumbag. Picked him up at the Elven Gardens a few years ago. The mazte was practically spilling from his ears, so drunk was he. In the end we got him charged for public indecency, making lewd gestures, excessive swearing, damaged property, harassment, threatening a guardsman, attacking a guardsman, possession of skooma with intent to sell and probably a few more things. There were also two or three accusations of rape, but the victims didn’t posess the finances to challenge him in court and we had no hard proof so we couldn’t charge him for that. Considering the rest of the filthy laundry we’d uncovered by that time though, I privately asked the judge to take it into consideration even though we couldn’t mention it during the trial. Not a pleasant character, that one.” He growled.

Grey-Tongue waved off the comment with a hand as he flipped the page to the last cell.
“Indeed. You may get the opportunity to arrest him again and add escape from prison to the list. The records here say he has been imprisoned for five years. Scheduled release is in another seventeen years. Last is cell 3, the one with the secret passage. This cell has only had two occupants since its construction, it seems. The first one was entered in 3E 399, no mention of the specific day, an Altmer male named Mezanin. No scheduled release. As for his crime, it says here treason. The second entry is anomalous and incomplete. None of the other cells ever contained more than a single prisoner at a time, but cell 3 received a second occupant. Name is Maghlada Ognim, female Bosmer, crime is vagrancy and failure to present..something, most likely identification papers. It ends there, no dates filled in and some question marks around the name. Which tells me two things. First, the writer wasn’t certain the name the prisoner gave was her real name and secondly, he was interrupted before he could finish. We can both guess the nature of said interruption.” He finished and closed the book with a heavy sigh. Like Lex had said, the manifest had been good for a start. But instead of answering questions, it had thrown up more. Lex’s familiarity with Dreth had surprised him somewhat. None of the proven crimes seemed major enough for the guard-captain to get involved with.
“But he does still patrol the streets himself despite his station. So it isn’t impossible.” Grey-Tongue thought to himself. He did not mention what he thought about Dreth’s escape. The footprints that led through the passage were almost certainly those of Mezanin and Maghlada. Dreth had not been killed either and the summoner did not seem like the type to leave witnesses. That meant he had left along with the summoner. Either as a prisoner…or an accomplice. He did not want to say it, and the captain was smart enough to figure it out for himself. In fact, going by the man’s dark expression, he already had.

Lex grit his teeth and looked at his clenched fist as he muttered under his breath, saying how he had been too soft.
“I should have killed him that day, the gods know the law gave me that right. That’s hindsight for you, always nagging on how things should have been done different. I’ll find him again, friend. I swear I will. And next time he’ll wish he’d killed himself and saved me the trouble.”
His fist smashed into the crate and he relished the pain in his knuckles. It gave him the focus he needed to stay calm and pay attention to the more important things.
“But enough about Dreth. Clearly we want this Maghlada or Mezanin for questioning. As for the Bosmer, I’d just like to add that a questionmark next to the name does not mean the name given was false. It could also mean that the warden simply wasn’t sure of his spelling. It happens all the time really when we don’t have any papers of identification to fall back on. All it needs is a heavy dialect or a speech impediment and r’s can become l’s, b’s become v’s etcetera.” He spoke with deep breaths. The anger was still there, but pushed away for the moment.

Grey-Tongue blinked and picked up his pipe again. He hadn’t thought of that.
“I see. That is also a possibility. Thank you, captain. Lady Maghlada could have been planted to intercept our liege, but I find that doubtful. Not enough time for a proper infiltration. She hadn’t even been written into the manifest yet. I’ll classify her as an innocent witness for the moment, possibly foreign. Now let us return to this Mezanin. There are three things that catch my interest just from this manifest and all are potentially related. First is the date itself. 3E 399 is the last year of the simulacrum. At the last day before 3E 400, Jagar Tharn was slain by the Eternal Champion and the true emperor restored to his throne. This, together with the mention of treason, implies that Mezanin was either an opponent of Tharn, or a supporter of Tharn and imprisoned upon Uriel’s return. I can’t tell you which one is more likely at the moment. The third item is the hidden tunnel we found. This Mezanin is the oldest prisoner in cellblock V and he has not been moved away from cell 3 at any point. This means that our passage has been there since before 3E 399. I need to know when block V was actually constructed, but I put it as very likely that cell 3’s escape route has been built during the simulacrum.”

Lex whistled at that. He had heard of the simulacrum even though he hadn’t been born yet. Of course he had, who didn’t? There was the annual memorial festival, complete with the laying of flowers at the mausoleum of the Eternal Champion. He always liked that day. For once everyone seemed to get along. That someone who had actually lived in those days had been under his very nose all the time amazed him. Of course it was nothing special for an Altmer to be this old, but the early days of Uriel’s reign and Tharn’s had been a more xenophobic one. All the Altmer he knew had immigrated to the city long after the simulacrum.
“So we have an old man who has been here for the greater part of Uriel’s rule, sitting right next to a secret tunnel leading out of there. If he’s been in jail for so long, then why didn’t he leave through the passage? I don’t care how well hidden the damn opening was, there are too many coincidences piling up in this case for that guy not to know about it.”

Grey-Tongue nodded. There was no evidence that either Mezanin or Maghlada had known about the passage. But he doubted that the Emperor and his Blades knew either. And for it to be found by coincidence, right at the moment of need? No, the most likely theory was that Mezanin had known all along, yet for some odd reason had not taken advantage of it.
“True, I believe he must have known. And here we come back to our need for a most powerful mage. Mezanin could be one quite easily. One who has vanished from the world for decades could easily be forgotten. It takes many public displays of expertise or annual remembrances for someone to escape obscurity. To the current generation, he might as well not exist. He could be a member of the Psijic Order, or one of the lost archmages from the Simulacrum. We probably won’t know unless we ask Mezanin himself.” The Argonian said and lit his pipe.

“Hell, for all we know, he might be Tharn himself!” Lex laughed, slapping his knee. His friend fixed him with an intense stare.
“Don’t even say that as a joke, my friend. For you may find an unwanted truth behind your merry.” He hissed.
“You’re seriously considering that option?”

Grey-Tongue shrugged.
“Why not? There are no eyewitness reports of Tharn’s demise. All we are told is that the Eternal Champion one day ventured into the palace, saved Uriel Septim and challenged the treacherous Battlemage to a duel that claimed the lives of them both. No one I know has ever seen the Eternal Champion, or knows more than I do. All we have are the vague words our Emperor was willing to say on the matter and a mausoleum in the Champion’s honour. We don’t know what race he was, or even if he was a man. We don’t know his age, whether he was a swordsman or a mage. Nothing. For all I know, the Eternal Champion does not exist and Tharn was not slain.” He said and bared his teeth in a mimick of a human’s smile.
“But be light of heart, sir Lex. Tharn would never wait decades on the off-chance the Emperor needs his aid to flee the city. Why would he? They’re mortal enemies.”

They were interrupted by a guardsman who marched up and stood at attention, waiting for Lex to acknowledge his presence. The guard-captain waved the man to wait and turned back to Grey-Tongue.
“True, true. That would be inconceivable. Well, I know that for me Tharn is dead. I won’t ask you not to weigh every possibility, no matter how strange, but please don’t get carried away with them.” He said before looking at the guard once more.

“At ease, soldier. What do you have to report?” Lex asked the younger Imperial. The man seemed like a new recruit to him and very nervous over having to deal with a guard-captain as well-known as Hieronymous Lex. He was so nervous that his ‘at ease’ position barely differed from when he stood at attention.
“Sir! A food courier has arrived! As by your orders, sir!” The soldier barked. Lex stood up and gave him a friendly smile. He knew better than to scare of a new collegue.
“Well then, my good man. Pay him, have him give his wares to the good investigator here then return to your duties. Keep up the good job soldier.” The two guardsmen saluted each other and the Imperial left. Lex shook his head, still smiling, as he turned around. No doubt the recruit would tell all his mates that night over how he had spoken to the Hieronymous Lex.

“Now then. It looks like your well-earned lunch has finally arrived.While you’re eating, sir Grey, I’ll round up some troops to have this crate sorted out. Once we’ve found some descriptions of the three, I’ll have the troops and informants instructed to keep an inconspicuous eye out for our witnesses. Fortunately I’ve still got a sketch of Dreth from his trial, I’ll have that one taken out of the archives and copied. He'll be the most famous Dark Elf in the city before you can say Fetcher.”

Posted by: jack cloudy Dec 11 2011, 09:54 PM

This is taking way longer than it should. Anyway, I think I'll stick with the M & S storyline for a bit. Otherwise they'll be in that damn ruin throughout the whole damn story. Also, awkward flashback moment.

Chapter 4.14


Ayleid Ruin

“Sorian, Sorian!” He wasn’t coming up, he just wasn’t coming up! The water was sloshing madly at the edges of the reservoir, but I couldn’t see his head breaking through the surface. He should have gotten right back up here after falling in. But he wasn’t, he wasn’t.
“Sorian!” He had been conscious when he went in, but maybe he’d faded away from the shock of going under. Blunt trauma wasn’t necessarily instant. Recalling that blow he’d taken, I remembered Ellbelith, one of my friends back home.

Oh, young foolish Ellbelith. So handsome, so charming, so athletic, so stupid. He’d been impressing the womenfolk by riding three snakes at the same time, jumping from back to back, doing handstands and other things that were suicidal in retrospect. But we loved it, and never asked ourselves why all the elders seemed so careful when riding the snakes. Then one time he missed, or a snake got cranky and threw him off, it didn’t really matter which. He landed on a rock, headfirst, and should have died right then and there. But he just smiled and waved at us. He seemed alright, though a bit wobbly. Considering myself the healer at the scene, though I really was nothing but a stupid apprentice without a license at the time, I looked him over and sent him on his way. I called him the luckiest mer ever that morning. How wrong I was. He died that evening, during diner. Something ruptured when he swallowed and drowned his brain in his own blood. If I’d done the right thing back then and sent him to my teacher, or just any real healer, he could have gone back to doing stupid things without a care in the world and break a leg by the end of the week.

“No…Stupid Latta! This is no time to daydream. Sorian!” With effort, I forced my thoughts back to the here and now. The reservoir’s surface was now almost completely calm and he was still down there. By now, I’d lost track of time. He could have gone under hours ago, or merely seconds. It didn’t really matter. I couldn’t wait any longer and hope he would climb on his own. I was not going to lose him, not because I started daydreaming about stupid memories instead of helping him. I took a deep breath and dove in after him.

The water was cold, dirty and dark. Even my hands vanished in the grimy depths. My eyes were useless here, so I simply closed them and focussed on the senses that remained. With my ears and my skin, I could make out two disturbances trashing about in the water, both originating from somewhere below me. One was strong, the other so very faint. The temptation to head for the stronger one was overwhelming but I came to the conclusion that it was most likely the zombie. It hadn’t appeared to be inconvenienced by everything else that had occurred to it up to this point. I kicked off towards the weaker one, or at least tried.

“Come on! This is no time to get my legs tangled up in that dress…stupid thing, let go!” That garish garb the man had given me had been light and reasonably comfortable when it was dry, but now it soaked up the water like a sponge and became like a heavy sticky blanket wrapped around my limbs. Whenever I moved, it would tangle me up. I struggled with it, tumbling about till in the end I managed to untie the waiststrap and let the whole thing drop over my head where it drifted lazily to the bottom. This time when I kicked off, I sped around it and down like a fish. The weaker of the two disturbances had now faded beyond my ability to sense it, but I remembered where it was and went straight for it, reaching it in three strokes.

It was Sorian my fingers finally brushed against, much as I’d hoped it had been the rancid flesh of a very dead zombie.
“Sorian! Move! Show me you’re still conscious! Shake an arm, kick a leg! Oh, he must have breathed this unhealthy water, the fool.” Even as I pleaded him to hear my thoughts, I hooked my arms under his and forced us back up to the surface. He was heavy and I needed to push off from the bottom just to get us going. The way back up took much more time than the swim down, time Sorian didn’t have.When we finally broke the surface, I took a break just long enough to refill my lungs with fresh air.

“Ok, Sorian. Take a deep breath, fresh air is here. Sorian? Sorian! Wake up! Oh, this is bad. Ok, got to get you up on dry land first. Gods, you’re heavy!”
Lifting him up onto the walkway took almost all the strength I had left. But I had no time to rest now. Getting up onto the ledge, I finally got to take stock of his condition. It didn’t look good at first. He still wasn’t responding or breathing and I had the feeling that he had consumed more than his fair share of liquid without transmuting it into the breathable gases. The good news could be summed up in two quick points. Firstly, his heart was still beating, albeit slowly and far too weak. Secondly, his pupil dilated when I held a Flare up to his face. So in short, he was alive and savable.

I decided to tackle the problem in steps. Death by nontransmuted water-intake had been little more than a footnote in my textbooks. It practically never happened. Still, I did have a good idea on what needed to be done. First I had to get him breathing again, and then I could worry about everything else.
“Ok, two things I need to do. First is to get the water out and second is to force some air in. Or I could do both at the same time by transmuting the water.” I thought on it some more as I started on some simple electrical stimulation of the muscles involved in the breathing. He coughed up some, but not enough. Transmutation on another person was one of those theoreticals I’d never tried. I’d discussed it though and according to my master the easiest way was to treat the other person as if he was part of my body instead of another entity. If I connected our airways, I could transfer my own transmutation spell to Sorian. In theory.
“It’s worth a try. I’m not making any progress like this.” I said to myself and put my mouth to his.

Posted by: Olen Dec 11 2011, 11:55 PM

Ha, I'm sure he won't take that the wrong way when he wakes...

A good set of updates, I can't see how Sorian and Latta fit into the crisis but I'm sure it will become clear with time.

I like how close to the truth Grey is, even if he doesn't know it yet.

Posted by: jack cloudy Dec 14 2011, 10:15 PM

Well at the moment they've got nothing to do with the plot at all. I need to get them out of that ruin first. I do have some plans to get them involved and hint; it involves some other characters we already met. I also just came up with a Pyandonean garb that is most likely completely lore-inaccurate but too awesome to leave out. I'll have to find a way to add it in somehow at some point. But for now, let's just continue right where we left off.


Chapter 4.15


The hardest part wasn’t to start and transfer the process, nor was making contact with some of the water flooding his lungs. It was actually remarkably simple. No, the hardest part was not to gag and puke. It was vile, filled with dirt and rotten particles of flesh. There was precious little oxygen to be obtained from it as well. The water was above all, dead. But even if it wouldn’t provide him with air, it would clear his passageways. And that was what he needed most. After a while of doing that I couldn’t taste any more of the water. I counted to five before returning to stimulating his muscles to induce breathing while blowing in a lungful of my own as well. Expand the ribcage, blow in air. Contract, and breathe for myself. Repeat.
I did not know at which point Sorian began to breathe again. At this point my actions had become like a well-trained reflex as natural and mindless as walking. I ceased jolting his chest and let him decide the rhythm from this point on. His motions became stronger by the second and it wasn’t long till he opened his eyes. I didn’t notice, so absorbed was I by the breathing-routine. It was when he stirred and tried to raise his hands that I did.
“I didn’t know you feel about me that way.” Were the first words that dragged themselves beyond his teeth as soon as I’d lifted my head, though the last vowel vanished in mighty bout of coughing as his body tried to clean itself.

“Hold still, let me check your head. Does it hurt anywhere?” I felt around his skull for the location where he’d been struck. I was expecting to find a darkening bruise or swelling at the least and a major skull fracture at worst. The natural darkness of his skin didn’t help me in that regard. Still, it should have been somewhere near the back and sure enough, he had a big bump forming already. That wasn’t something I could fix without my tools, which I now remembered were still at that prison. The best I could do was give it a gentle frosted poke. Which made Sorian bolt upright and windmill his arms which was not what I’d planned.
“That’s cold. I was just making a…guh…joke! No need to get cranky, milady.” He protested while staring directly ahead at the nearest wall.

I rubbed my nose where he’d hit me. It didn’t seem to be injured, but it sure stung.
“No humor. I was just trying to constrict bloodflow. Don’t move. Now, any pain anywhere?” I asked again. I don’t know what it was I did different, but for once he listened. He also seemed to get better amazingly fast. Already his coughing fits seemed to die down to the occasional spasm.
“Chest…and head. Thank the gods I…cough…swayed with that punch.” Sorian answered and pointed at both the bump and all of his ribcage.
“Good, that’s pretty much what I expected. You’ll probably be coughing for a while yet. I got most of the water out, but it was very contaminated and there is still a lot of dirt and worse in your lungs.” I didn’t mention the electric therapy I’d administered. A certain muscle-ache was a common result from that. He wouldn’t notice it anyway over the burning in his lungs.

“Try not to cough too hard, you might tear something. As for the head, you really were lucky you don’t have a fracture, as far as I can tell at least. But don’t make any sudden motions and for Nirn’s sake, don’t swallow heavily. I can’t find any other injuries at the moment, but you’ll have to take off that yellow thing of yours before I can perform a thorough examination. And would you please stop admiring the walls. It is very rude to hold a conversation with a lady without looking at her.” I said as I moved back in front of him. Sorian averted his gaze towards his toes immediately, which bothered me. Maybe he was injured more severely than I thought he was. Very slowly, as if he didn’t quite know the right words to say, he replied.
“Well I would if it wasn’t for your current attire. And speaking of that, what happened to that very nice tunic I gave you?”
I felt my skin darken, shifting colours to match the gloomy stone of the walls and the floor. When I blanked out, I’d completely forgotten I’d discarded the borrowed outfit in the reservoir. I stepped back behind him as fast as I could.
“Forgive me, good sir, for it eluded my thoughts. The dress I was obliged to discard within the waters. It is not meant for swimmers and I could neither reach nor save you with it. I shall strive not to be this vacuous of mind again.” I said and after a moment’s thinking I added something.
“I shall recover it later. The water has already soiled me and another venture into its depths would not make a difference for me.”

The Redguard sighed, as if I’d just said something wrong again.
“Right. I’ll just try not to look in the meantime. Thanks for dragging me out by the way, I appreciate it. I really thought I was going to die.”
“If it wasn’t for my aid, sir, you would. And no thanks are needed. It was the appropriate course of action and I’m not the type of person to just observe as people die. But enough about that, sir Redguard. As we are now, we have two pressing issues that must be attended to. Firstly, we need to remove your garb so that you may dry before you catch a cold. Secondly, we need to depart from this place in case another foe comes seeking conflict.”
Sorian shook his head and I grabbed it to stop him. He was about to try and shake off my hands before thinking better of it.
“O…k…You’re really talking strangely now. I’m not sure if I quite follow…Now wait just a second! Yes, you saved my life but I’m still in charge here. We’re not leaving this place without treasure, I’m not getting out of my clothes and you’re not going to ‘examine’ me either.”

His words surprised me. I didn’t think I was talking oddly. Then I realized what he meant. I’d gone from straightforward healerspeech to extremely formal and awkward nobletalk. I mentally slapped myself for letting my embarrassment control me. When I next spoke, I made special effort to talk normal. Normal in this case, meant snappy. Very snappy.
“I wasn’t asking for your opinion. I’m your healer and I will check you for injuries whether you like it or not! That means you don't talk back at me, you don't make jokes, you don't try to be witty and you will do as I say! And I didn’t mean we head back the way we came. I think I found your door, or a sign that points at one. Look.”

I reached over his shoulder and flung a flare at the signstone. The little fire bounced of the rock but then I managed to wring it into the grooves. The response was instant and exceeded all my expectations. Like the splitting of wood under the lumberman’s axe, entire slabs of stone slid away to reveal an opening that lead to what looked like a small room. I think I was as surprised as Sorian.
“Woah, and here I thought you were just making things up when you were bragging about all those languages.” He muttered and moved to stand up. I grabbed him by his shoulders and pushed him back down. He should not be moving yet and I really didn’t like what he’d said.
“Hey, are you implying I was lying? And don’t move. If you have to walk, then let me support you.” I bit as he squirmed beneath me with his eyes squeezed shut.
“I can walk on my own. And no, I wasn’t implying anything. It’s just that, well…you looked like a beggar so I just assumed a few things. That’s all.” The Redguard countered. With an angry shout, I let go and walked away.
“Suit yourself, fool! Just yell if you keel over and break something. I’ll just go pick up my clothes then.” When I looked over my shoulder, he had indeed struggled onto his feet. Some people were just impossible to control, as I was finding out. At least the trouble with his lungs took away most of his stamina. I could probably get him to lay down again once his curiosity had been sated.

“See if you can find my sword. It’s got to be down there somewhere.” He called back and moved towards the opening. I hesitated, not knowing what to say. His sword. I really did not want to grab it. It was that damn sword that got him into this mess in the first place. If it wasn’t for that, he wouldn’t have insisted on fighting. If it wasn’t for the sword, he wouldn’t have gotten injured and nearly died. If it wasn’t for the sword, I wouldn’t have been so worried, I wouldn’t have had to go into that filthy water twice, I wouldn’t have been embarrassed and I…would have been killed by the man in black. I did owe my life to his sword, and I did require for Sorian to be armed eventually in case that man tried to kill me again. But not now, not here. I finally made up my mind.
“If I come across it, I’ll bring it along.” I finally said and jumped in before he could reply or figure out how I’d twisted the truth. I wasn’t lying, really. I just wasn’t going to give it back to him until I deemed him fit to use it.

Posted by: jack cloudy Dec 19 2011, 11:16 PM

Despite my earlier bluster about not minding another swim, my first thought upon hitting the water was that I needed to get out now. If I’d stopped to think first, I might not have jumped in at all and just decided to endure till we got back to the bags and my prison-outfit that we left at the bottom of the well.
“I really should have paid more attention when father tried to teach me that telekinesis spell. That would have saved me both dives. Seriously Latta, next time your choice is between watching boys and learning potentially useful but boring magics, choose the magics.” I scolded myself and hurried to pick up the clothes and sword. Both were fortunately in roughly the place I was expecting them. The tunic had settled halfway to the bottom and the sword was right where I’d found Sorian. I was grateful, not just because it saved me time looking for them, but also because I wouldn’t have to get close to the living corpse that still refused to die or realize that its wild flailing didn’t accomplish much.

With both in my arms, I finally got to see what was beyond the wall myself. Even before I stepped through the opening I knew I’d found something interesting. The Redguard was as loud as he could be, talking about pots of gold and rainbows. And it was true that we’d found the proverbial mollusc with a thousand-year pearl. This room had actually been inhabited. Fragments of wooden furniture lay in a large pile with some more durable artefacts among it. I conjectured that I was looking at a table or a wall-mounted rack that one day simply decayed too far to support the weight of the metal and crystal objects it had carried. Sorian picked up one, then another, holding them up and shaking them like a newborn child with a toy. He sure didn’t act like an eighty year old should. I shook my head and cleared my throat to get his attention.

“Right, right. I’m back, brought your sword and got my very wet clothes. Now would you please…” I didn’t even get to finish my sentence.
“Oh no, absolutely not. I don’t know what got into you all of a sudden, but I’m not taking off my clothes and you’re not going to poke me with those cold hands again. Now give me my sword, please.” Sorian said, holding out his hand. I could do nothing but sigh and shake my head again. His utter stubbornness and refusal to even listen was unbelievable. Well, if words wouldn’t do it, then I’d just have to match my own thickheadedness against his. So without another word, I tossed the sword out of the room and then cast a flare at the opening/closing brick that was inside. The wall resealed without leaving a seam.

“Hey! Open the door! I asked for my sword and you threw it away. That’s not funny!” Sorian growled and approached me. His face and posture scared me. He looked like he was actually willing to hurt me just to get that bit of metal back. But I told myself I had enough of being pushed around by everyone on this forsaken continent. It didn’t matter whether I was scared or not. At the moment I was the one who held all the cards.
“Don’t even try it. You need me to leave this room and I can’t cast the spell if you injure me. No, that sword is staying right out there and we are staying right in here till next morning.” I growled back at him. I must have done it right, for he stopped while still at arm’s length from me.
“You really became bossy all of a sudden.” He said softly. “And what if somebody finds it, then what? Did you even think about that or do you just get off on bullying people?”

I really lost it at that point. I simply started yelling at him, having completely forgotten how he scared me.
“I’m not bullying you! This is just because you cut me off everytime I try to say something! And I did think about it. Nobody has been in this room for centuries, just look at all the dust or valuable artefacts. If there was anyone in this land who could read the signs and act on it, they would have ransacked this place already! So even if somebody comes along and sees the sword, we’ll be perfectly safe.”
Sorian nodded and then shook his head. He seemed to understand me, but just didn’t agree with what I’d said. Not that that came as a surprise.
“That’s not the point. I know this room is undisturbed. I’m not blind. All I’m saying is that sword is important to me! Not as a weapon, though it is one, but as a heirloom. The bone and spirit of my father’s father resides within it. I can’t just let some goldseeking ruffian walk off with it. I’d never be able to wash off my shame if I did.” Bones and spirits? I was familiar with veneration of ancestral remains and the desire to keep them close to you. But to place them within a weapon, that was nothing but barbaric. I could see that Sorian wasn’t going to give up till he got what he wanted though and for once, I actually felt like agreeing with him. It was a barbaric practice, but respect for one’s elders, both dead and living, were the cornerstones of a stable society.
“Tomorrow, no earlier…Unless you do what I’ve been asking you all this time.” I muttered.

I needed more. Just saying what I wanted wasn’t going to help. I needed arguments, good ones. Arguments he could understand and agree with. I needed to make him trust me enough to forget about his very good sense of modesty.
“Look, I told you I had a license as a healer. I was right about being literate in this ruin’s script, so why can’t you believe me about that? I’m not getting any enjoyment out of pushing you around like this, out of treating you like you’re a toddler that can’t think for itself. And the last thing I want is to touch you. I get the shivers just thinking about it. But you just lost a fight and nearly drowned! I have to make sure you’re healthy…reasonably healthy, and won’t develop any further complications that I could have prevented if you’d let me. I’m the type who would never forgive herself if I overlooked anything and you ended up crippled or worse! And I don’t mean you need to take off everything. All I’m interested in is your upper torso. So please, would you let me help you?”

After a long silence, he finally nodded and smiled.
“Well, ok. An Ansei would never neglect his flesh and neither should I. I’ll let you help me.” I was so relieved I felt as if I could jump and touch the ceiling.

My examination was rather basic as I lacked all the required materials for an indepth one. But basic was sufficient. I tested his response to heat and cold, reflexes and hand-eye coordination, asked him how he felt and if he had any earlier injuries in his past that might become a factor. I observed a few scars, but those were old and didn’t hinder him. After I was done, we gathered up the wood and made a fire. The room soon became nice and warm, allowing us to be comfortable and our clothes to dry.

“You look ok, or as well as you possibly could be considering the circumstances. Just remind me to brew you some decent tea and get your lungs cleared out once we get back in the city.” I said that night as we sat beside the fire, my back to his and both eating the soggy remains of bread Sorian had carried with him. Overall, I was quite satisfied with how things had turned out. It felt like we had reached an understanding of each other and could now put all the bad blood behind us. It turned out that when we weren’t yelling at each other, we got along quite well.
“Thanks. Are you sure you want to go back there though? I thought after what happened that you would want to stay away from there. I know another town nearby. Chorrol. It isn’t too far. One day, maybe two days to the northwest. We could go there instead no problem. I know the way.” The man said behind me. Another town? I thought about it, but had to reject the proposal.
“But this Chorrol is not the capital. It must be smaller, and less likely to hold the wealthy buyer we want. No, we have to go back to Cyrodiil. Whether I like it or not.” I said and shivered when I thought of the alley where I met my newest friend.

“Honestly, you’re right. I’m scared of going back. What if he finds me again, or what if I run into that Altmer again? He never hurt me, but I might just be more scared of him than the black-robed one. The one that called himself vampire.” I continued. I didn’t say what I thought next. It was none of his business.
“The one that smelled like family.”
I put the last of the bread in my mouth and swallowed. Both strangers had scared me. Yes, the black one tried to strangle me while I had the other to thank for releasing me from the prison. But the vampire had only tried to kill me, an unarmed and mentally harmless young woman. But the Altmer was something else. Personal discomfort was strange to him, three men with swords didn’t faze him. Invisible assassins couldn't hide from him. He’d killed four armed and hostile archers, no doubt with some sort of despicable magic. Not just that, but he had frozen that big monster, the daedroth, like it was nothing. And then when he brought us out by making a wall disappear. The vampire had been dangerous, but the Altmer held power. Real power, the one my family would start a war for. I was shaken out of my reverie by Sorian.

“What Altmer?” He asked.
“Ah right, you never met him. He was…” I stopped. I couldn’t tell him I’d met him in a prisoncell. Sorian thought I had been a beggar and even though I was starting to get the feeling he wouldn’t respond too badly to the truth, I wasn’t ready yet to tell him.
“A magician of some sort. Very focussed. It was just chilling how nothing mattered to him but that one thing he wanted.” Yes, focussed was the word that described him. Focussed, and willing to pursue that focus.
“So what did he want?” Sorian asked next. I could hear that he too had finished his meal and had picked up that sword of his. He was muttering under his breath about rust as he stroked it.
“I don’t know. I just don’t, but it must be something big.” It was when I said those words that I realized just how big the tall mer’s goal must be. We’d met the Emperor of this empire, Septim himself! The Emperor, and he’d been treated as a pawn, a tool. I could kick myself for not realizing the implications of that. The Emperor, I’d met the emperor!
“Something really big.” I whispered and fell quiet.
“And I didn’t show him the proper respect or even attempted to start a diplomatic relation. Grandfather would be so angry if he knew how I blew that chance. He’d never accept personal danger as an excuse.”



OOC: I think I'm done with the Sorian and Latta storyline for now. Angoril is still in transit so next we'll rejoin Lex and Grey-Tongue as they further unravel the mystery of Uriel Septim's dissapearance.

Posted by: jack cloudy Dec 24 2011, 11:40 PM

OOC: Ok, I lied. They've gone out on a sidetrip.

Chapter 4.16


Imperial City, Talos Plaza

Beyond the Cyrodillian hills, the sun had only just begun to settle for the night. Within the tall walls of the Imperial City, it had already set for over an hour. Grey-Tongue trembled with subconscious relief when he finally stepped through the portal of his home. With all that he had learned today, the world no longer felt safe to him.
“Miss Wolfer? I have returned and brought a guest.” He called out at the empty hallway and hung up his coat while Lex began to unbuckle his armour. There was a clattering in the kitchen, then an elderly woman came out into the hallway to peer at the two.

“Is that you, sir Grey? Oh, and it is sir Lex as well! So kind of you to visit.” Miss Wolfer said with a smile and her bent back became even more crooked as she bowed to the Guard-Captain. Lex mimicked the bow with the ramrod straight precision of an ex-legionnaire.
“Good evening, miss Wolfer. It is my pleasure. However, I’m afraid my coming here was not decided by kindness. I have requested sir Grey’s aid in a matter of extreme importance and though he has rendered his aid admirably, we are still far from done.” He replied formally while his hands returned to the task of untying the loops of leather that held together his armour.

The woman shook her head. It had been obvious to her the moment she saw the state the two men were in and the documents carried by her Argonian employer.
“I was afraid that was the case. That also explains why you are both so dirty. Why, it is as if you have been digging through the ground like moles! Honestly, it does not befit gentlemen of your standing to dirty themselves like peasants.” She sighed before continuing.
“Leave your coat and steel in the basket if you please, sirs. Jensine will be coming by tomorrow for laundry and I’d hate to see the floor be dirtied. Now then gentlemen, would you like a nice cup of warm tea?” With a nod at the woven basket sitting next to the coathanger, the maid returned to the kitchen.
“Gladly, miss Wolfer. Gladly. We’ll be in the living room. Now then, Hieronymous. Care to join me? You absolutely must try that new sofa I purchased.”

The two let themselves sink away in the soft pillows, enjoying the feeling of aching muscles being supported by a cloud of feathers. It was after the busy sounds from Miss Wolfer’s cooking and tea-brewing had resumed, that Grey-Tongue leaned forward to whisper the question that had been on his tongue since the moment they left Lex’s office at the Waterfront.
“Are you certain?”

Lex grimaced as he remembered finding the neatly sealed envelope in his desk that should have been locked. It was locked, but the envelope had not been there when he’d done the locking. He knew of only one faction that had the means and the will to slip envelopes into his office without anyone noticing. It had happened over twenty times before, and he’d never enjoyed the sense of inferiority it gave him.
“Yes. As much as I hate it when they do that, every time the Grey Fox has deemed it necessary to slip a note in my desk, the information written on it has been perfectly accurate. This time I believe will be no different. Thieves they may be, but they’re not murderers and are more than willing to bring the arm of law down onto anyone who crosses the line from burglary to bloodshed. Of course, they’re too smart to walk up to the front door so we can arrest the lot of them. No, they break into the office of the watch by stealth and leave without leaving anyone the wiser.” He said.

“Besides, I am obligated to respond to any crime I’ve been made aware of, especially the serious ones like murder or accessory to murder. You remember how I deposited a note of my own in Argelius’ box just before we left? He and his troops should be on the streets by now. They know how to act subtle, when to ditch the armour for beggar’s sackcloth and how to grab that cat’s tail without anyone noticing. Best people for the job, when you want to fight stealth with stealth and need men you can trust. When they’ve got him, he’ll be brought here. I thought it best to interrogate him in a place where there won’t be need to file official reports. The Nine know the people are already on edge, what with the jailbreak and Ocato announcing that the emperor is bedridden for the third time this month.”
“Miss Wolfer will not appreciate this, but I agree that we should keep an empty book for now. Let’s just hope we get our hands on a witness soon and get the emperor back on the throne before the whole kettle blows.”

Tea and dinner was served and Grey-Tongue had informed miss Wolfer that he was expecting more guests, but that she would not have to attend to their needs anymore this evening. The woman took the hint, for it hadn’t been the first time Lex had made use of the privacy his friend’s house offered. She knew when to ask questions and when not, and this was clearly a day where she should go knit upstairs. The Imperial and the Argonian were left alone, to review the latest reports and when they were done with that, to catch up on old times. The clock had rung midnight when there was a soft knocking to be heard on the window. The two went into the hallway where Lex picked up his sword before nodding to his friend to open the door.

There were two figures that could just barely be made out in the darkness outside.
“Sirs. He’s all yours. Call us when you’re done. My men and I will be on lookout duty around the district.” One of the two figures said with a nod to the two and pushed the other figure through the door, where the light revealed him to be a rather dishevelled Khajiit. He left before anyone could answer. Hieronymous Lex brandished his sword and pushed the Khajiit towards the living room. They all sat down. Grey-Tongue back on the sofa, the Khajiit on the ground and Lex on the table where he could still reach their captive with his sword.
“Now then, you probably already know why we’re here. My Argonian friend and I are going to ask you some questions, and you are going to answer. From what we’ve hear, you’ve been a naughty kitten. Care to tell us all about it?” The Khajiit growled, staring at the naked blade. Even though Lex was not wearing his uniform, he recognized the sword easily enough. The weapons were always marked and though the number didn’t tell him the name of the owner, it did tell him his occupation. Guardsman.

“This one has done nothing! Who is the human, who is the scaled one? Who are these two, that dare attack innocent Ra’Jezhr?” The beastman spat and was rewarded with a soft prod of the sword. Not deep enough to wound, but deep enough to be very uncomfortable.
“Merely two concerned citizens. Alright, enough games. Recognize this signature?” Lex answered smiling as he pulled the Grey Fox’s envelope out of his vest-pocket.
“Grey Fox….No! Ra’Jezhr has never seen this mark. Never!” The Imperial’s smile vanished.
“You already let it slip, so forgive me if I don’t buy your crap. Play-time is over, so out with it, Fuzzball. What is this about the murder your infamous master accuses you of?” He growled.
“Look, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. The easy way would be to come clear now, bring everything above the table and then receive a fair official trial. The hard way would be to say nothing, get me angry and ends with your friends taking matters into their own hands. From what I’ve heard, they don’t treat traitors kindly. So, what is it going to be, wiseguy?”

The Khajiit hesitated for only a heartbeat. Imperial justice could be harsh, but thieves’ justice even moreso.
“This one has mouths to feed, many mouths. So many mouths, so much trouble. Thieves guild does not help. Guild says, go find money, go steal. But no, can’t steal from the rich people. Too many guards these days. Can’t steal from the poor people, guild doesn’t like. So this one goes hungry, this one’s mate and little ones go hungry.”
“Get to the point. Today, if possible.” Lex interrupted. Grey-Tongue waved a hand and spoke for the first time since opening the door.
“Relax, my friend. Khajiit are longwinded. Step on their tail, and the story only gets longer. Now then, please continue, Ra’Jezhr.” The Khajiit looked from one to the other before continuing.

“This one becomes desperate, goes to the rich places. But this one not brave. Good with locks, this one is, but not brave, not sneaky. Then, it happens. This one is on the roof of rich one’s house. Quintillius Litius, is his name.”
“Litius died, he was murdered a few weeks ago. By a vampire.” Lex whispered to himself. He did not like where this story was going.
“Just for once today I want to find a simple case that can be cleaned up in a few minutes without jumping into a bigger case that is connected to it. You can’t tell me this mongrel is our killer vampire. You can make me believe a lot of things, Grey Fox. But not that.”
“Yes, murder. This one finally finds courage to sneak in. This one finds death.” Ra’Jezhr continued.
“Litius is there, other thing is there. It looks like man, man with Khajiit-teeth. Man with knife, man that drinks blood. Ra’Jezhr is no longer brave. Ra’Jezhr tries to flee. Thing catches him. It says Ra’Jezhr is not tasty. Too hairy. Too stinking. It smells that Ra’Jezhr ate garlic, it not like that. It knows Ra’Jezhr is thief. It says to take what Ra’Jezhr wants. It says Ra’Jezhr may live. But this one can not go freely. This one must be quiet. This one must find murderers like it.”

Again the story was interrupted by the guard-captain.
“Other killers? It asked you to find other vampires?” He asked but the thief shook his head.
“No, not vampires. Not murderers. Those who can become thief like Ra’Jezhr. Or murderer like thing. It wants sneaky ones. Grey Fox not ask for thieves. Thieves come to him, he says. He tests them, he says. But this one found sneaky not-thief that did not come to Fox. Not-thief not ask to join. Not-thief only here to loose manacles. Ra’Jezhr good with locks, so guild asks him to free not-thief that does not ask to become thief. But not-thief sneaky, so very sneaky.” Now even Grey-Tongue was getting uncomfortable with the Khajiit’s tale. It looked like Ra’Jezhr was not just involved in two cases, but even a third now.
“And when did this not….person come to you?” Lex asked, already fearing the answer.
“This morning.”

Grey and Lex exchanged a silent glance. Both thought the same words.
“The prison-escape was yesterday-night. Just a few hours earlier.”
“Could you tell us more about the not-thief?” It was Grey-Tongue who now took the lead in the interrogation, something for which the guard-captain was glad.
“What about vampire? Does swamp-man not wish to know about vampire?” Ra’Jezhr asked and flinched away from the sword as it lowered slightly.
“All in due time. I am certainly interested in the vampire, but I’m also interested in the sneaky one. What does he…or she look like? What’s the not-thief’s name?” The investigator now asked. The reports so far had not given a description of either Mezanin or Maghlada. In Meghlada’s case, the impounded possessions had strangely enough not included clothing, which made even an accurate guess towards height impossible. Just an unknown species of beetle, possibly a pet. Mezanin’s possessions had long since been sold off.

“Not-thief is woman, tried to say name but Ra’Jezhr say not to. Ra’Jezhr is thief, thieves do not know names. Keeps them safe when caught. But Ra’Jezhr knows that sneaky not-thief is one of the tree-people, but strange. Smells wrong, is wrong. Hair like glass, eyes like milk, skin…skin is snow one moment, skin is black shadow the next, then colour of wall. This one says to himself, not-thief very sneaky, sneaky like the snake in grass. This one remembers vampire. This one afraid of vampire. Afraid to go ask, more afraid not to ask. Vampire comes, watches in shadow. Not-thief knows it is there. Not-thief run. Vampire follow.” The Khajiit said with wild gestures as he got into the story.
“Did the not-thief get away from the vampire?”
“This one not know. Vampire and not-thief gone. Ra’Jezhr all alone now. This one goes away. This one hides. Then beggars come, hit Ra’Jezhr, make him stone. They take him here, to tell story.

They continued the interrogation, but the thief knew precious little beyond what he had already told. Finally, Lex signalled out the window for Argelius to take the Khajiit with him again. Where he would be place now that the prison was no longer accepting new inmates, he did not know. But Argelius would find a place to keep him. Once the two had left, the guard-captain shook his head.
“Gods, I hate talking to uneducated beast-people. They’re so hard to follow. But the time, the gender and assessment of race matches the profile of our witness. Fortunately there was no vampire-victim reported today. So there is a chance she’s still alive.” He said.
“Indeed. And we received a description. Granted, that colour changing the Khajiit mentioned could make our task harder. That, and I doubt anyone would remain in the city for long after encountering a monster like that. Oh, and on another note. Please remind me to have Jensine pick up some groceries when she returns with the clean laundry.”




OOC: Gods, third-person Khajiit-speak is painful to write. I'm also certain I messed up his name once or twice. But enough of that. Merry Christmas, people!

Posted by: jack cloudy Dec 29 2011, 08:53 PM

OOC: And I get lost on another long detour. I should really learn this arcane art known as plotting. Also, I realized that I was using chapters back before the...coffeebreak. So let's cut off the overly long chapter four here and get back to chapter five where the storylines come back together. Hopefully. One of these days. Maybe?

Redemption

Chapter 5: Convergence

Weye

As soon as we’d woken up, we’d picked up the bags we’d filled and left the ancient city. Sorian had wanted to go in further and I had asked for breakfast, but both wishes went unfulfilled. The man admitted that last night’s bread was all the food he’d had and I’d pointed out that we’d already filled one bag and I was not looking forward to more trouble. So leave we did. Down the long long sunbleached roads, with nothing to eat but a few plucked berries. It was enough to keep my mind off the fear for our destination, or the ache of exhausted legs, or the worry that sprang up at Sorian’s occasional cough. But my stomach was still rumbling. So when I spotted a building that advertised food and drinks, I took my chance. An opportunity to still my hunger and delay the inevitable was too good to pass up. Besides, he needed the rest as much as I did. Trying to look inexhaustible was a well-known manly vice, but it wasn’t healthy.

“Hey sir Redguard, could we stop for a bit? I still need to think of what to say when we try to sell our wares.” I said and was already taking smaller and smaller steps. Sorian’s eyes first looked at me, then slid over to tavern’s sign swinging in the wind.
“By which you mean that you are hungry, you’re legs hurt from walking and you think I’m pushing us too hard again. So you want to go into that tavern and get yourself a nice warm and very expensive meal.” He shook his head and grinned. I tried to find another excuse. I was not going to admit being manipulated by such simple urges as hunger. Ok, I was. It wasn’t as if I could really hide how my belly had been growling all day.
“Actually…I give up. I do, sir, very much so. We didn’t have anything to eat for breakfast so you shouldn’t be so surprised. I mean it. If I don’t get to eat something soon, I’ll lose my mind.”

Again that grin, as if he was amused by my confession. But then his own stomach growled as well and he burst out into laughter.
“I hear you, lady. I’m hungry too and my chest is starting to bug me again. I would have packed more than a small on-the-road snack if I had the money though, or if I knew I was going to have an extra mouth to feed. I’m practically penniless now and I still need to keep something to buy us passage through the gates. Maybe I can get you some of mazte, but that’s just about it. Things are cheaper in the big city’s slums, if you can handle the taste and wait for just another hour.” Cheaper food from the slums? Would that be like Delmar’s moss-covered stones that used to be bread? If so, I’d rather pass on it.
“I think I tried that once. It wasn’t exactly my thing.” I said. The Redguard shrugged at hearing my answer and moved for the door.
“Alright, come on. I’ll get you something to drink. At least we can rest our legs for a few minutes and I do owe you.” He said over his shoulder and I eagerly followed him inside. Even if all I would get was this Mazte, it would fill me up a little.

The inside was dark, with light only coming in through a few grimy sheets of glass. I didn’t like the interior much. Tables and stools were spread in a chaotic fashion, an old fireplace at the right with a spitted piece of meat dripping fat in the flames, and a rickety staircase that looked as if it hadn’t been used in years on the left. There were no lightsources, no way to bring in fresh air beyond that brought in every time someone stepped through the door. And it reeked of muddy shoes, sweat, mealscraps lost in dusty corners and spilled liquor. The place was evidently a popular enough spot, though it could do with some cleaning. And a more refined clientele, maybe some nice paintings and flowers? But maybe the owner had simply given up on trying to keep a clean establishment and move up in the world. All the other patrons I could see were either travellers like us, or farmers and fishermen who had come here directly from their respective work-locations, not even bothering to wipe their shoes on the doorstep. I couldn’t see who was offering service here, every single one of the dozen or so people I saw looked just about the same to me. Same clothes, same manners, same smell. Then Sorian jabbed a helpful finger at one of the folk inhabiting the room.

She was tall, an effect that was only magnified by the spiralling tower of hair whose tip actually rubbed against the ceiling. That right there was the first aspect that made me instinctively dislike her. Then I noticed other things. Skin of gold, grimy hands leaving long streaks where she wiped them off on her vest. A voice dripping with condescension that her friendly words could not hide. It was the visage of a person who thought they really were too good for the fate life had dealt them.
“I’m not trying to be rude, but that’s our host?” I gagged, which made Sorian frown. He then looked at me intently before whispering back.
“Is that a problem? It’s not worth losing your temper about, even if she is a bit taller than you.”

“Of course it is, I thought the stories were all exaggera.…” I began as I stepped back towards the door, towards my peace. But she’d already spotted us and was coming, casually flipping a plate from one hand to the other. It was too late to leave now so my only remaining option was to shove the Redguard at her and then head for the other end of the tavern.
“You talk to her. I’ll go find a table. As far away from her as possible.”

It wasn’t hard to find an empty table. It appeared that lunchtime for the majority of the customers had already ended, judging by all the filthy plates without owners. There were plenty of open seats to choose from. I took the one in the darkest corner, right underneath the staircase. From there I watched as Sorian engaged the Altmer in conversation. Fragments of conversation drifted down to me. Where he was from, what he did for a living, if he was going to the city and if so, she knew a few spots he absolutely had to visit, who his ladyfriend was and so on. It seemed to be ages before the subject of food and drink came up.

Finally after a good ten and a half minutes, minutes that made me regret counting them, he joined me at my table with a clay jug, two cups and a smug grin.
“Well, I didn’t have enough to order anything decent, Nerussa gave me a discount on this jug of mead. It’s honeywater, great stuff. She’s a wonderful woman and you should really talk to her. She knows so much about who’s who in these parts. She even gave me directions to the one guy in the city who’s got a reputation for paying good money for anything Ayleid.” He blabbered as he put the cups down and filled them up. My mood sank even lower. Not only had she taken ages to render basic service a child could give, but now they were also referring to each other by name?

“Nerussa? Oh, I’m most happy for you, seeing as how you’re already on a first-name basis with that Altmer, sir. And just moments after meeting as well. How skilled you are.” I put the full weight of my mockery into the title. Again he stared at me intently and shifted on his stool. He threw a glance over his shoulder at the other patrons, then moved just right to block my view of them, or their view of me. It could be coincidence, but it almost felt deliberate.
“That Altmer? It’s as if you’re talking about a rat and you never even met the woman. Really, calm down. There’s no need to get worked up over nothing.” He said, threw another glance then adjusted his position. It was deliberate! But why?
“I don’t need to.” I spat back as I got annoyed not just by the woman whose loud voice hammered my ears from down near the fireplace, or the subject of my conversation with the Redguard, but also by his secretive behaviour. Just what was he trying to do? Shield me from sight, as if I was something he really didn’t want to be seen with?
“You weren’t that hostile about the one last night. Seriously, are you cranky because you’re hungry, or are you just jealous because I don’t refer to you by name?” That didn’t even merit an answer. I sighed and sniffed at the cup before trying it. I’d expected it to be sour, but it was surprisingly sweet. Regardless of the other faults this tavern and its host had, the mead was indeed great stuff. I calmed down a little. Maybe he had been right and I was just angry because of hunger and exhaustion. The liquid wouldn’t help much with the former, but the stool did help with the latter problem.

Sorian relaxed as he drank his as well and soon slouched back into a more comfortable posture, incidentally exposing me to the gazes of everyone else again. If they cared to look. I wondered why he had been acting so weird before, but decided not to press the issue. He did keep stealing glances over his shoulder from time to time though, as if he was trying to confirm something. And after what must have been the fifteenth time, he revealed what had been on his mind.
“Hey, did you notice that man down by the corner?”

I leaned to the side and looked towards the far end of the room. There were a few men there, none of whom really stood out to me. The lack of decent lighting didn’t make it easier to find any distinguishing features.
“The bald one?” I tried but he shook his head.
“No, the old one with the headband. I swear he’s been looking this way since we first came in.” He whispered as he returned to his blocking position. I didn’t even get to see who he meant. He had been surprised that someone had been looking at me? To me that wasn’t exactly new.
“Of course he does. People always stare at me when I come to places like these. It comes with my family.” I said matter-of-factly and refilled my cup. As far as I was concerned, that was the end of that. Not for Sorian though.
“You do remember that you’re a stranger to the people here, milady? Yet he hasn’t looked at the travellers who came in after us. Only you, or me. And I don’t like it.” He pressed. He did have a point. I was a stranger here, and so nobody could judge me by my family heritage. So then why was he looking over here? Well, we were the two most colourfully dressed travellers here. So maybe he was just like Nerussa, and wanted to know where we were from. Sorian had said it was an older person, so pretending not to notice him would be rude.
“I’ll go talk to him.” I said and ignoring his protests, I slipped around him and walked straight for the stranger. Almost straight. I had to swerve towards the wall in order to pass the Altmeri hag without compromising my personal space.

The only man with a headband was old, seven centuries at least and probably well on the way to his eight. Not just that, but upon reaching his table I found out that he stank of pus, rot and disease. This man was sick, probably from an injury I couldn’t see. I hoped he hadn’t hid it beneath that mudcaked and lice-infested shirt he wore. Maybe that was why he had been looking at me. He was seeking help and somehow he knew that I had some knowledge of the healing arts?
“Excuse me, sir. It came to my attention that I have been the subject of your interests. Can I help you?” I greeted formally and bowed. The elder looked confused for a moment but then he smiled.
“Ah, well. Your young friend caught me staring. I apologize, that was rude of me. You just looked like someone Tunius told me about when he came visit me last evening. To see how I was doing. The person he described was very…distinctive and you match that description to a tee. Are you Malada Ognam perhaps?” He replied in a croaking frogvoice. Malada Ognam, that did sound like my name, if you don’t spit out the tees properly and forget the throatgurgle at Orgnum. But who was Tunius? And why did he receive a description of me? I mentally shrugged. This elder didn’t give me a bad feeling and he was in need of my assistance. So no need to get scared over nothing.
“Maorlatta Orgnum is the name, at your service. Although, I am not familiar with this Tunius you mention.”

Sorian caught up with, grabbing me by the shoulder and hissing a warning in my ear. I instinctively edged away from the sudden contact and I could swear that both the young and the older man focussed even more of their attention on me.
“Milady! He’s a stranger!” Sorian repeated more urgently. He obviously didn’t share my compassion with the wounded.
“It’s fine. He needs me.” I said back and brushed him off.
“What if he’s with the vampire!” At this, my heart did skip a beat. We were too close to the city for comfort and the vampire had been one of the few who got a good look at me. I thought hard on who else could describe me. There had been the armoured people from the prison, but they were dead. There was the greyskinned barbarian, but he got eaten. The Emperor and his protectors? I couldn’t think of a reason for them to grab me. They had barely even noticed me. All their attention had been on the sorcerous Altmer. Him perhaps? He wouldn’t need the help of a random grandfather to catch me. Then who was left? There was the Vampire and the talking animal. Both of those had good reason to take me and knew what I looked like. Was this poor man bullied by them? Sent to talk to me and catch me off-guard?

He had been looking at us all this time and I realized he had been waiting on one of us to talk to him again instead of just standing there and thinking. When the silence dragged on too long, he broke it himself, neatly sidestepping the accusations in the process.
“You don’t know Tunius? But you went fishing together, just yesterday! He said you were a good luck charm to him.” Fishing? There was only one man I’d gone fishing with. And while he had led me into the hands of the vampire, I knew that hadn’t been his intention. It was all that furred thing’s fault. I clapped my hands in delight. This elder was one I could trust after all!
“Oh, you mean Delmar! It’s ok, sir Sorian. This man is a friend of a friend. Now please take your hand off your sword, you’re making everyone nervous. And mostly me.” I said, pointing at the shining steel tucked behind his belt. Sorian scowled for a bit before letting go of the hilt. I did notice that he kept his hand close to it, but I felt that this small victory would suffice for the moment. I was pretty sure that he hadn’t intended to hack the poor old man’s head. He just wanted to push him away with a silent threat. At least I hoped so.


“Ah, so I was right all along! I’m Aelwin Merowald and I could use a good luck charm myself.” The old man continued as if we were old friends. Sorian’s hand snapped back around the sword as he leaned over the table, bringing his face level with Aelwin’s.
“Are you trying to ask us to do something for you, Breton? What is in it for us?” He asked in a chilling tone. I just couldn’t believe him. Just where did he learn proper manners and conversational etiquette? Nowhere apparently.
“Sir! Don’t be so rude to Aelwin. He’s an elder and a friend. I told you already, didn’t I? Don’t be so….aggressive.” I hissed into his ear.
“He’s your friend, not mine. And we have our own worries. We can’t help everyone we come across out of the purity of our hearts.” The Redguard replied without shifting or averting his gaze from Aelwin. Again I urged him to back off.
“Sir.” I didn’t quite manage the commanding tone I was looking for because my empty stomach betrayed me with embarrassing timing.
“All I’m saying is that I’m willing to listen if he buys us lunch.” Sorian snickered. I turned my back to him in a huff. Just when it seemed I’d manage to make myself seem useful to him, the world had to conspire and humiliate me. Even the old man was laughing. So hard he almost fell off his stool even.
“Someone, please make me disappear. Now.” I muttered in my native tongue. Fortunately no one heard me over their own laughter. That would have just made the embarrassment complete.

“Haha, you’re an honest boy. Alright, why not? It’s not as if we can hear each other talk while your bellies are growling like wolves. Nerussa! Give these two the Hawnett special, would you?! Put it on my tab!” The elderly Breton waved at the golden flagpole before continuing. Within moments, two plates with a round yellow vegetable, a long orange one and a piece of charred meat were placed on the table. It wasn’t much, better than what Delmar had in his shack, but not exactly a meal that required an extensive kitchen-education. What the Altmer didn’t give was cutlery. But I was so hungry at the moment that I didn’t care much. I happily began to consume as I listened to the rest of the story.
“Now then. I’ll give my lifestory while you people eat. Like Tunius, I’m a fisherman. We go way back, always looked out for one another. There were a few escapades when we were younger, but for the longest time, back since the Simulacrum actually so probably before you two were even born, we’ve been fishing here at Rumare. I was mostly content with my life but we’ve gotten older since then and I saw that the day would come where I wasn’t going to be able to row my boat out anymore. I was more right than I expected.” His face turned grim as he indicated his leg. When I leaned over to get a closer look, I could see that it was wrapped in filthy cloth and partially amputated. A wooden cup was affixed to the end where the foot had been. If those bandages hid a fresh wound, I would want to have a long talk with whoever had ‘treated’ his injury.

“Can I look at it?” I asked but he winced and hid it beneath the table again.
“No, it’s not something young eyes should look at. It’s ghastly and I don’t want to destroy your appetite. Besides, the healer did a good job for the little money I could spare. There wasn’t enough left of my foot to save and I later got an infection that had to be cut away, but at least I lived and didn’t lose the whole leg. Can’t fix the missing bits without a big heaping of expensive magic, and I was told I’m too old for regenerative treatments, whatever that means. Bottom of the line is, I can’t move my leg right anymore and that pretty much ended my fishing days. I wanted to retire, but not like this.” He said and winced once more.
I didn’t know what was worse, implying that I didn’t have the stomach to bear looking at a large wound or the implication that his leg was only lost because he lacked the funds for magical treatment. Besides, I didn’t agree with the diagnosis of him being too old. Yes, he was indeed in the final stage of his life but master Zelrith said that even the most intensive restorative magics would only take a few years off of that lifespan. If they took more, the subject was dead already before he hit the ground. Aelwin still had a few decades to spare so he should have been given proper treatment instead of this insufficient hackjob. I would take the judgement of my mentor over that of an anonymous moneygrubber.

The fisherman, former fisherman, didn’t continue and I realized he was waiting for one of us to ask the obvious question. I took the bait.
“What happened?”
“I made a deal with a student at the university a few weeks ago. He needed scales from the Slaughterfish for a project and I needed the aid he could lend me to support my failing body. Of course, he was too smart to hunt for them himself. Smarter than me, he was. I’ve never fished for them myself but I thought I could manage with my decades of experience. Hah! I should have listened to my old man, bless his soul. Never hunt Slaughterfish, he said and for good reason. The monsters are all violence and teeth. It was one of those naturally, that damn near bit my leg off. It wasn’t quite dead when it flopped onto my boat.”

He didn’t need to say more. I could already figure out what he was going to request of me. He had not realized I had received some training in the healing arts. No, he’d just heard from Delmar about a young woman who was rather good at fishing and wanted to send me out in the lake. I had no problems with that. But having me fish for those maddened predators? No, last time I got lucky. I was not going near another Slaughterfish ever again, not while sane. Not even at the request of an elder. Though my chest tightened at the thought, I had to refuse.
“I’m sorry Aelwin, but they frighten me. They frighten me very much.”

He nodded and said. “As they damn well should. But there is another way. Its mating season right now, and the Slaughterfish are all shedding their scales in exchange for more colourful ones. The shedded scales all sink to the bottom in these neat little clumps. Delmar said you were a natural swimmer, Maorlatta, like you have some Argonian in you. If you could just gather some of those, you don’t even need to get close to the fish. Please help an old man out. I’ll lend you my boat, I don’t need it anymore anyhow. It’s beached beneath the bridge. Your boyfriend can handle the oars while you go underwater. Or maybe he goes underwater and you man the boat, you two can decide that among yourselves.”

He excused himself as he dug into his vestpocket. From it he retrieved a ring, a simple undecorated band of gold that shimmered as if some invisible lightsource was playing on it. The ring held magic.
“Also, take this ring. I got it as an advance payment. It’s yours now. It allows you to breathe underwater. Just imagine, no longer having to come up every half a minute to get some air.” The elder explained and held it up for me. It was a rather unnecessary gift, especially since I could stay under for a good half hour instead of half a minute. But refusing a gift is rude so I took it. As for his plan, it sounded safe enough. As long as I kept my distance, the Slaughterfish weren’t a threat. The only issue was time.
“Thank you. Your gift is much appreciated. I don’t see a reason to refuse, Aelwin. The young should aid the elderly. But we did have a few other matters to attend to this day and I’m not sure how it would work out time-wise. What do you think, sir Redguard?” I said and turned to Sorian. He didn’t seem too happy, fidgeting on his stool, frowning and pretending that he was preoccupied by finding the last few crumbs on his plate. I thought he was going to refuse but finally he relented.
“Gods, you look like a lost puppy! Fine, if you really want to that much, I’m not stopping you. Besides, he did give us a meal so we owe him now. Just don’t stray too far from the boat, ok? I’ll need you to pick me up if I fall out and you need to get back in quick if you see one of the scaly bastards. Now come on, we’ve wasted enough time already.” He grumbled and headed for the door.

“Thank you for the meal, Aelwin. I’ll get back to you later. Is that alright?” I stood up, bowed to the elder and followed my companion.
“If you come by in the evening, I’ll get you two diner. You can go take care of your business first and take care of mine on the way back. I’m not going anywhere.” The fisherman yelled at us. I nodded to him and left the tavern. Out under the cloudless sky again, we hadn’t even taken five steps towards the bridge and sprawling city in the distance before Sorian turned to me.
“Why are you on a first name basis with him within moments after meeting? Can I complain now like you did with me and Nerussa?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.
“No, you may not.” I told him.
“Bummer”




OOC: Ok, a few things. I did not actually go into the Hawnett inn to see what it looked like on the inside. I just made things up. Also, Weye is the most ridiculous example of downscaling in Oblivion. It's called a village, but it has a grand total of two buildings, one of which is the inn. Three if you count the stables at the other side of the bridge. As for the characters, I didn't go much further beyond checking the UESP for race and gender. In Aelwin's case, I do always pick up his quest on the way to Jauffre, but since I play Argonians, There is no motivation to ever actually finish it. Besides, Morrowind gave me a major fish-phobia.

Speaking of the quest, I changed things a bit. I made his injury a bit worse than what he has in-game and forked over the reward before handing in the goods. There is also the nonsense about mating season and shedded scales, which I came up with when I realized that Latta was NOT going to hunt Slaughterfish and Sorian couldn't swim anyway. But by now I had this whole conversation written down and she's kinda big on doing the right thing so I wriggled my way out it by separating the loot from the beast.

Posted by: jack cloudy Jan 2 2012, 08:05 PM

And we continue the new year with our scaly Sherlock.


Chapter 5.2


13th Talos Plaza

It was passed noon and Grey-Tongue had retreated to his study. Now, seated before the window with today’s Black Horse in his lap, he watched the window without seeing it. Before him, motes of dust sparkled as they swirled through the beam of light. Any other day and he would have found endless entertainment watching their dance unfold. But not today. News travelled somewhat slower than the Imperial information network, but it travelled fast. Always proud of their ability to get news fast, the Black Horse courier had not only gotten the news, they had then gone out to do interviews and collected letters, which were added onto the initial report before the ink had even dried. The paper loudly proclaimed the burning of the estates of all the Septim heirs and already conspiracy fanatics were overwhelming the newsmen with the wildest theories, all which was dutifully placed in the special edition. One claimed the heirs were doppelgangers installed by Tharn who had received their just due at the hands of observant and patriotic staff. Another that the heirs had run afoul of Tharn himself, back from the dead to continue his mad war against the dragonborn. More worldly commentators suspected the Dark Brotherhood, or whatever race was the favourite target for their individual xenophobia. The one thing all agreed on was that the Imperial princes had fallen amidst the flames that had reduced the proud mansions to rubble and ash. The Black Horse stressed that these were however the words of opiniated individuals and that its readers should reserve judgement until the investigative bureau disclosed its official report.

There was a second article that worried Grey-Tongue. It was hidden among the last few pages, along with such snippets as ‘lost dog found’, ‘Bastien Fine Goods closes, owner thanks all his customers for their loyal purchases’ and the outcome of the Skingrad horse races. The article was short and devoid of the lavish attention that had been given to the headline news. To sum it up, it stated that Guardsmen had picked up a ‘suspicious individual’ near one of the razed estates. The man who was later identified as Gaston Ebberich, a pious traveller visiting the temples of the Nine, died during questioning. Grey-Tongue could already imagine the angry letters that would be placed in the Black Horse tomorrow, raging against the ‘increasing brutality of the guardsmen’ and how ‘protecting the law does not place one above it’. What all those letters would miss, was one tiny detail. The pilgrim had been wearing a red robe.

The Argonian stood up and moved to the window amidst the rustling of paper falling to the floor. Beneath him, life seemed to be moving as usual. People of all kinds milled about in ordered chaos. Perhaps today the conversations of gossiping women and men had taken a darker tone than yesterday but if so, he could determine from here. He contemplated opening the window, let in the cacophony of the streets. His hand rested on the knob but did not move.
“Perhaps I am becoming paranoid. Three letters, one word and I fly into a near panic. Red clothing is not so uncommon that an innocent man couldn’t wear it as he ventures near a crime scene.” He scolded himself, the words already hollow before they’d escaped his tongue. He knew that he wasn’t paranoid, he couldn’t possibly be paranoid. The Imperial family did not live in one place, their estates were situated all across the far reaches of the province. And all had been burned at the same time, the same time the Emperor was attacked and vanished.

He knew what Hieronymous Lex would say if he asked. Already he could hear the man’s voice, the gritting of his teeth, the creak of clenched fists covered in hard leather.
“One estate can burn, two can burn in the same night. It would be unusual and grounds for investigation. But it could be simple coincidence. But all three, within the span of a few hours, and the incident in this very city! No, that was not coincidence. It was planned, organized in advance with the kind of precision that would make the Legions proud! And by the Nine, I’ll have their skins and raise them on our banners!”

All told, he felt helpless. Out there, beyond the safe walls of his house, the empire was falling to pieces, attacked from all sides by these redclad shadows. Yet no matter how hard he squeezed, how hard he bit down on every lead he could find, they eluded his grasp. No citizen had been spotted wearing or known to possess a red robe. But he knew they had been here, more than just the ones that died beneath the prison. A loose-tongued errantboy who worked at the palace claimed that one had been killed on the seventeenth floor of White Gold Tower. And a woodsman said he’d found a pile of red silk, cut to thin strips, just beyond the North-Eastern Sewer exit. There had been more assassins, and they’d covered their tracks. For all he knew, one of them could be walking down the Plaza beneath his window right now.

All his other leads had led to nothing as well. The summoned being had been identified as a Daedroth by scholars of the mages guild. But they had no records of any guildsmen who were capable of summoning one. The ones who did, all seven of them, were active at guilds in the other provinces. Even if one of them had left and journeyed to the Imperial city by horse without rest, stopping only to change to a fresh one, news of his departure would still have outrun him or her by bird or signal-towers.

Then there were the three witnesses, Valen, Mezanin and Maghlada. Valen had posters put up of his face all over the city. Anyone who even remotely resembled him was picked up by the patrolling guardsmen, which lead to a lot of disgruntled Dunmer. But so far they hadn’t found the real Valen. Mezanin was a complete unknown. Lex had used his connections to make contact with the underground Altmer society that connected all inhabitants of that race, but they had not, or refused to admit, seen any Altmer who had not already lived in the city for years. Then there was Maghlada. So far, Lex had not sent a runner to his home, so she had not yet been found, dead or alive. And if she was found, she would most likely be dead. All corpses of recently deceased Bosmeri females, there were always a few every day, were taken before Ra’Jezhr for identification. He almost hoped the Khajiit pointed at one of the corpses and said: “That is sneaky not-thief.” If only to receive confirmation. The other option was even worse. If she was alive, she was either far gone, or in the hands of her assailant. Only an absolute idiot would remain in a city where there was a vampire hunting her. The Argonian’s grip on the windowknob tightened.
“Ten curses! This has to be a joke.” He hissed to himself.

He tore himself away from the window and raced down the stairs.
“Jensine, you still here?!” He shouted as he burst into the living room. There the two women, Miss Wolfer and the far younger Jensine Dubreth, were enjoying a cup of tea.
“Yes, darling? What is the hurry? Got a musclecramp that needs taking care of?” The young Breton purred.
“No, your skills as a masseuse are not needed!” Grey-Tongue interrupted her.
“Run, don’t walk, to the Imperial Prison. If anyone stops you, tell them that you are my assistant and need to see guard-captain Hieronymous Lex, NOW! If he is not there, have a runner sent to collect him. Tell him to come here right away. Then, find guard-captain Argelius! He also needs to come here. Now go!” He continued as he practically dragged the courtesan out of her chair and pushed her towards the hallway, still holding her cup. In the hallway, he grabbed his own coat and cane.
“Miss Wolfer, Please put the pot of soup back on the fire! I will be out and when I return, I insist that a meal be served!” He shouted back towards the living room and raced out of the door.

Left alone, Miss Wolfer stared at her cup before gently placing it on the table.
“But we just had lunch. He couldn’t possibly be hungry yet.” She muttered to herself.

OOC: Originally, one of the interviewees was a Mythic Dawn cultist ranting about Mehrunes Dagon returning, new dawn etc. I thought that was a bit too obvious however and replaced it with the pilgrim. I'm trying to keep my Mythic Dawn more competent and secretive, excluding the sacrificial pawns of course. Also, Grey-Tongue's exit-speech originally revealed why the hell he is leaving in such a hurry. I edited that out just to annoy everyone.

Posted by: jack cloudy Jan 6 2012, 05:07 PM

I swear, I will get some plot development going! Someday, possibly before the heat death of the universe even. Ahem, more L&S



Chapter 5.3


Akatosh’ Wing Bridge

Cringing with every step as we evaded the worst of the filth, we slowly made our way across the immense marble bridge that span from Weye to the immense city at the center of the lake. I wondered why I hadn’t noticed last time we came this way, but the bridge was absolutely covered in a thick splooshing coating of dung and mud. It was a silent testament to the wagons and beasts that crossed every morning and evening. At noon however, the vast spanne was almost deserted, relatively speaking. We still passed a good score travellers and Sorian let his eyes wander over each one. His hand never strayed far from the steel at his side. It was good to see him take his bodyguard duty serious.

“We can take the first gate this time.” The man said when we were about halfway across.
“Eyup.” I huffed as I jumped over a particularly smelly pile of droppings. Those horse-things seemed a lot less cute now I knew they weren’t toilet-trained.
“Obviously. I don’t want to spend time taking the roundabout. The sooner we’re back out and helping Aelwin, the better. Agh, I’m never going to get this off my shoes. We should have taken his boat.” I added with a frown.
“And then they would only allow us to dock at the waterfront and we’d have to walk through half the city. So man up. Dirt won’t kill you.” Sorian’s mocking tone was mildly irritating, but only mildly. He knew I hadn’t been serious. The next pool stretched the entire width of the bridge and was too long to jump. The Redguard climbed up onto the elevated ridge and motioned me to follow. One look over the edge and I decided not to. Sure, the ridge was wide enough to walk on but I really wasn’t comfortable with a height such as this. Even water was hard as stone if you fell long enough. With a sigh I gingerly stepped through, splashing as little as possible.

“I just like being clean, that’s all. How many people come through here each day anyhow?” I picked up the thread of conversation again once back on a less wet portion of the road. Sorian gazed at the city with unfocussed eyes. Then, he sang.
“There below his feet, shone the city White Gold. Ruled by men of snow, illuminated by candles thousandfold. One for each star above, one for each soul below.” The song, or fragment thereof, was haunting. But as abruptly as it had began, it ended and he turned back to me with a smile.
“That’s part of a poem I heard back in Skaven, less elegant than from the original singer’s mouth. But then again, she is descended from the Ansei. Though she also must have been off by a zero or two.” He chuckled. He didn’t even knew how good his voice was. Not the best I’d ever heard, but definitely not the worst. Instead of swinging swords, he should have swung songs at a court. It would be a safer, more profitable and more respectful occupation.
“That was beautiful…nevermind. Could you tell me who we are going to meet, sir?”

He looked at the city again, more focussed now.
“According to Nerussa, stop scowling, there lives a wealthy noble at the Talos Plaza by the name of Umbacano. She said he pays good coin for every Ayleid artefact larger than a toothpick. Very good coin. So I thought we would seek him out and see how much he’s willing to pay.” At the last words, he turned to me and moved to block my path.
“And now I really have to ask. Could you not do that, milady?” He asked me without any of the usual humor or annoyance. He was calm and serious, in a way I hadn’t seen him before.
“Do what?”

“Turn all blue and red whenever something annoys you. I swear, it’s like the posturing of a poisonous snake.” I froze, not knowing what to say. Blue and red, those were the traditional colours of conflict or general aggressive behaviour. My traditional colours, not his. Sorian, Delmar, the Altmer, Emperor Uriel, the mudman and the other two swordsmen, none of them had ever showed more than one colour. They probably couldn’t do it at all. So it wasn’t a guess.
“So you noticed.” I finally whispered. To my surprise, he shrugged as if it wasn’t important.
“Well, first I thought it was the light playing with me but when you blew up in my face…it was hard to miss. So could you not do that? Umabacano is high elf and I don’t think he’d be impressed by magic parlor tricks. It was hard enough to hide it back at the tavern but nobles tend to have their homes well-lit.” He said casually as he began to walk again, slower this time. He didn’t say it outright, but he was thinking that I just got mad at every single Altmer for no reason. I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t prejudiced, that I judged every single one fairly on his or her own merit. He wouldn’t believe me, neither would I. Even I was able to admit that it is impossible to not be prejudiced when every story about the Altmer puts them down as pure evil. All but one.

“It’s not something I have control over. A woman of my age and standing should, but I don’t. Don’t ask me why. And it’s nothing magic or parlor tricks. It’s just a basic communication skill at…the isles. Telling me not to would be like asking me to stop breathing.” I said while braving the latest splatty obstacle. Fortunately it was the last one for it seemed that this close to the gates someone actually bothered to scrape the stones clean every day. Raising my eyes to the city, I could see the blinding glint of metal armour before us. Six glints, so that meant six guards fidgeting restlessly. I hoped none of them would recognize me. I still hadn’t explained my arrest to Sorian and I wanted to keep it that way. It was one of those embarrassing and frightening experiences best left forgotten. Beside me, Sorian dropped the hand that had been held over his sword all this time.
“Right, I knew you were foreign, but this just bumped you up to very foreign. A language of magical skinpaint, never heard of that before. Anyway, then what do we do? I don’t want to leave you waiting out of my sight. We can’t ask you to hold your breath either. Well, I’m open to suggestions if you have any.” He said.

I mulled over the question as we walked. The problem was at its core one of emotions. I simply was a very emotional person who had never quite managed to control my mental state. Whatever I felt was always broadcasted by my skin. Barely noticeable as long as my emotions weren’t peaking, but still there. The only time I didn’t signal, was when I was completely relaxed or just not feeling anything at all. That meant I was either sleeping, or very bored. I couldn’t take a nap obviously and boredom would be hard to find. But perhaps I wouldn’t need the genuine article.
“There is one thing.” I told Sorian. “I was taught a few medication techniques by Mettildi. It never got far, but I kept stumping at it over the years when I hadn’t got anything better to do. I’ve gotten proficient enough I think, as long as it doesn’t take too long and I don’t have to do anything else at the same time. So you would have to do the talking while I go seek inner peace.”
“Stilling your soul? That sounds like what the Ansei do. He wasn’t one, was he?” The Redguard commented, rising awe ringing clearly in his voice. It made me sick. Whatever the Ansei were, other than some vague ideal of his, Mettildi wasn’t one.
“He knew the techniques, but didn’t practice them. The man loved pain.” I shuddered.
“As long as it wasn’t his.” As long as it was mine.
“If you don’t like the guy, then why make him teach you?” Sorian wondered out loud. Why did I? Because I was told to, because he was a teacher assigned to me by the aunt that raised me? One among dozens, just another blur in my life? Normally that would have been my answer, but in lisping Mettildi’s case, my answer was different.
“Because I was scared. I couldn’t say no.” He didn’t ask any further, for which I was grateful.

The metalclad guardsmen seized us up when we got near. From up close, I was reminded of how intimidating they were. Every single one of them towered above me, like a shining tower of potential violence. Even Sorian only reached up to the shoulder of the shortest among them, and was barely half as wide as the men. It was overwhelming and said more than a few things about the diet they’d enjoyed throughout their lives. It also showed me how wealthy the Empire was, that it could afford to use steel on covering the skin of every single soldier under its command. Now the six identical men talked among each other in hoarse whispers, never letting their eyes wander from us. Finally one of them produced a titanic rolling of the shoulders and stepped forward, waving us to come closer.
“Good day, young fellows. You wish to enter the Talos district?” He greeted us heartily with a deep voice befitting of a giant. Beside me, Sorian motioned for me to stay back and let him handle it. I was more than willing to let him. Folk that huge made me uneasy, though it seemed they didn’t recognize me and wished us no harm.
“Good day to you, sir knight. Yes, we do.”

The man inspected us again, this time even more open than before. He bent down to bring himself to our level, turning his eyes from Sorian to me and back again. As he pushed his face at me, a pungent odor assaulted my nostrils. Sweat baked too long, last night’s drinking and specks of the last meal caught up in that scraggly beard that uncomfortably poked out through the central slit of his helmet. Now I knew why they’d all been so restless. Their shift must have been about to end and their greatest wish was to strip off all that hot metal and find a tavern. I nervously averted my eyes from his stare. After some time, the man nodded to himself and let out his rumbling conclusion.
“You two look decent enough. You are aware of the laws that apply to the Imperial City, heart of the Empire?” He said with a smile. The smell intensified whenever he opened his mouth. Chosen for their height and impressive girth they may have been, proper hygiene had not been a decisive factor. I scolded myself for the thought. Ever since coming here I hadn’t found the time to clean myself properly either.
“We are.” Sorian answered plainly. The gatekeeper grinned and held out a giant paw.
“Good. Then please hand over that sword and any other weapons or objects that could be used as such.” He boomed. The urge to slap myself was overwhelming. Sorian’s response last time someone had tried to take his sword hadn’t been pleasant. This time I felt would be no different.

True to my expectations, the man drew back and his hand flung down to the hilt. As one, five of the armoured soldiers dropped their hands to their own blades. All except for the one who’d been elected to speak to us. He stood up straight and placed his hands on his hips, making himself as wide as possible and oozing confidence from every pore.
“My sword? Now wait a minute.” Sorian stammered. A finger jabbed at his heart as the gatekeeper interrupted his objections.
“Those are the rules. Only guardsmen and other licensed individuals are allowed to keep possession of their weapons while within the confines of all city districts. You did say that you are aware of them. Are you?” This was getting bad. I did not agree to this adventure with him just to get killed by upholders of the law over something as natural as weaponregulation.
“Yes, but…” The Redguard continued. I had enough. He needed to be stopped before he blurted out something even more stupid and earned us both a blade in the gut.
“Sorian. Be quiet.” I said as loud as I could be without actually yelling. He looked at me with wide eyes. Not just him, everyone else’s attention had turned to me. It occurred to me that my outburst had done more than shut him up. It had given me the task of coming up with a story that would keep everyone happy and let us pass. But what story? I couldn’t come up with anything good so I ended up doing the same thing Sorian had done. Throw out the first words that came to mind.
“It was not my intention to reveal myself, but I cannot remain silent when honourable men such as yourself are troubled on my behalf. My name is Maorlatta Orgnum, Princess Heir to the throne of mistcloaked Pyandonea. I sincerely apologize for the indiscretion of my servant and guard. Let it be known that he merely acts to ensure my safety and wellbeing.”

I could kick myself. Instead of pretending to be simple travellers, I’d used the royalty card on them. They didn’t believe me, confusion apparent in what little of their faces showed. I should have said something different, thought more. But it was too late now. They wouldn’t let us leave now without a very good explanation. An explanation we didn’t have. The only way left was to go forward. I took a deep breath and drew myself up as much as I could, knowing fully well how futile such a gesture was next to these giants of men.
“Sorian, hand over your blade. These men will stand guarantee that no harm will come unto me while within these walls. Correct, sirs?” I said and weighed their response. Hands loosened slightly around hilts, feet shifted to raise center of mass slightly. The spokesman looked behind him for help, receiving none. That told me they weren’t used to dealing with the upper-class. Most likely a better trained group would have manned the gates if important visitors were expected. Even Sorian listened.
“Ah…yes, lady. The guardsmen are here to ensure the safety of everyone who visits great Cyrodiil. But what is your business here? If I may ask, that is.” The frontman said slipping over his words. I raised an eyebrow and put on an expression of minor dissatisfaction. I’d figured out my plan now. I would overwhelm them by making myself and my coming more important than anything they were authorized to handle. I would force them to process us despite not knowing the protocol. I had to stifle a grin. This might actually be fun.
“Lady Princess. I am here for the purpose of a clandestine diplomatic liason with lord Emperor Uriel Septim the seventh, ruler of Tamriel by the grace of holy Akatosh. By word and deed, I act with the full authority of the Pyandonean court and so any agreement between Lord Emperor Uriel Septim the seventh and I, Princess Heir Maorlatta Orgnum, will stand as an agreement between the Empire of Tamriel and the kingdom of Pyandonea. Due to the sensitive nature and importance of this council, I have travelled here without a full formal entourage. I come here bringing only my trusted aide and shield, as well as some gifts and personal effects. I trust you will exercise your utmost discretion regarding information of my presence at his court.”

Their response was exactly what I wanted. Their confusion had grown beyond their ability to solve, so their minds had turned towards accepting every single word I said as the absolute truth. Hands left swords and they all stood at attention, shoulder to shoulder, eyes staring straight ahead.
“Yes, of course. We welcome you, lady princess, to Cyrodiil and hope that your presence will be a pleasant one. If you would just wait half an hour, our captain will supervise the changing of the shifts. He is better suited to your needs.” One of the five in the back now shouted. Apparantly he was the leader of this group. It didn’t show on its own. He wore the exact same armour and had the exact same build as the others. But he’d decided to speak, and not the one who’d first been pushed into talking to us. I turned to him now and continued without skipping a beat.
“I thank you for your consideration. However, I do not have time to wait. You will have to serve my needs. Now then, Sorian will deliver his blade into your care and we shall be on our way. Please store it among all the other weapons, with no special signs of its value or the status of its owner. Place it as if it will be collected by the evening or the day hereafter, as if it belongs to a mere visitor who has no plans of staying within your walls. Again, I trust your discretion on this matter. No one is to know of my arrival until such time as Lord Emperor Uriel Septim the seventh decides.” The Redguard’s lips curved into a smile as he began to understand what I was aiming for. By the time we would return, just a short while later, the new guards would be in place. None the wiser, they should return Sorian’s blade without issue. The only problems would occur if we waited long enough for these six to find their tavern and the inevitable rumours to start.
“Our lips will be sealed, on my word of honour. I do have to inform you however that the Emperor is unwell. Imperial Battlemage and councilsman Ocato made the announcement this morning.” My eyebrow went up again.
“Ocato? I’ve heard that name before. Wasn’t that the one the Emperor’s guards were so unhappy about? Yes, he was the one who didn’t show up. The magic to guard against magic or somesuch. Saying that lord Septim is sick must mean that...did the Altmer kill him, after all the trouble at getting him out? Or did he just go and hide? That’s what I would do, if I had an army of murderers aiming for my throat.” I thought. At the same time, I was already speaking. The words didn’t require much thought, just enough to translate them from one language to the other.
“My condolences. However, this does not cancel our appointment. I will meet with whoever is in charge of the Lord Emperor’s agenda and arrange an alternate time of meeting as his health dictates. Now, please open the gates. I still have many formal duties to attend today and the sun waits for no mortal.”
“Of course, lady princess. You may pass on through.”

Entering the Talos District, the first thing I noticed was how clean it was. It was a far cry from the part Delmar had showed me. Sorian’s Altmer friend must have been correct. This was the kind of place where all the rich people would live. The second thing I noticed was how the guards at the gates and their weapon regulation was an absolute joke. Only guardsmen and licensed individuals he’d said. The people without weapons, mostly knives, were vastly outnumbered by those with them and only a few of the armed men and women wore the armour of guardsmen. It seemed to me that this license was ridiculously easy to obtain. All one needed was high social standing or money. Next to me Sorian began to laugh.
“That was the most incredible bluff I’ve ever seen. I don’t think you had to drag your lie that far, but it was awesome. And best of all, you didn’t flash rainbow at them. So you can do it after all.” He hiccupped, one hand before his mouth as he tried to hold it in. I frowned at him. This was not the place to talk loudly about bluffing.
“I don’t believe in lying. Now take us to this Altmer of yours.”

Posted by: mALX Jan 10 2012, 03:23 AM

I never notice these stories up in the subforums!

I'm still reading in your 2008 entries, so still have some catching up to do. So far:

You have an amazing knack for detail and dialogue that absolutely make each scene come to life! Wonderful character building, and love how you keep us guessing at who each character is as you introduce them! Valen Dreth was the easiest, lol.

Also, I am absolutely against reading most "tutorial dungeon" beginnings, (or actually any stories that linearly follow the main questline) - but you have completely made this story your own version, the only similarities being the setting and a few similar characters.

What an Awesome job you are doing with this! I have a few more pages to read before I'll be caught up, and really hope I get the free time to do it. Absolutely Awesome Write !!

Posted by: jack cloudy Jan 10 2012, 10:11 PM

Thank you. I do have to warn you though. I stopped writing for a few years and got really rusty during that time. Later updates are of lower quality than the earlier ones and flow at a slower pace.

Anyway, for this update: Grey-Tongue pulls an Angoril.


Chapter 5.4



Talos Plaza

He knew he was making a scene, having Jensine run out of his house shortly followed by himself. But Grey-Tongue didn’t care. His cane never touched the streets as he retraced the path of the two persons, one man and one woman, that had caught his eye from the window. The first thing he’d noticed were their clothes. Brightly coloured robes with a high slit at each side and a beltstrap of simple cloth. No one from the Talos district wore garb such as that. Next had been the way they were headed, directly for the house of an old adversary of his. The realization that the woman possessed the sharp ears of an elven heritage and almost transparent hair kept in a simple bun was the last and most important thing he’d seen. Her skin had been an unchanging healthy tan and he hadn’t seen her eyes, but everything else matched the description. Bosmer, with hair like glass. He’d thought no one would be stupid enough to return to the known hunting grounds of a vampire. He’d just been proven wrong.

“It is still unlikely, there are hundreds of Bosmeri women in the city. But I can’t ignore this either. If I’m right, this is both a great opportunity and a great danger. The vampire must not be allowed to find her first. Besides, that travelpack and the sack the man was carrying were rather filled. Making sure that Umbacano isn’t breaking the law again is more than enough reason to follow up on this even if the woman is not Maghlada.” The Argonian told himself. He stopped at the other side of the central plaza, bent over and breathing in harsh gasps. He envied the boundless stamina of Hieronymous Lex, who would have barely noticed such a run even in full gear.

For a few minutes he stood before the door gathering his breath. He was not looking forward to what was to come but concluded that he had no choice. While he was certain that Umbacano would be none to pleased with his interference, he could not walk away. When he was both certain that he could speak without trouble and that the potentially illegal bussines-meeting was in progress, he knocked on the door. For a minute nothing happened and he knocked again. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed that a patrolling guardsman had taken up position behind him, standing by one of the columns that graced the central plaza. The man gave a single nod to the Argonian and rebalanced the sheathed sword at his belt. Grey-Tongue returned the nod, then knocked once more.

This time a reply was instant. The door opened slightly by scaled fingers wrapped in chain and two red eyes so like his own blinked at him.
“Who comes here?” The other Argonian rasped. The door opened further so he could get a real good look. From the moment he saw the fine clothing and the elegant cane, he hissed, spines rising and teeth bared.
“Hist-Brother. I remember you. Umbacano does not wish to see you. Go away.” The Argonian spat at Grey-Tongue. Memories of the investigator’s last visit came to him. Being an Argonian as well and rather new at the job, he’d been eager to let Grey-Tongue in. He’d just assumed this was one of those business associates his colleagues had informed him about. The ones that should be let in promptly without a word. When Grey-Tongue left however, carrying a carefully wrapped object, he’d received a tongue-lashing from his master’s steward. The wealthy Umbacano had not been pleased by the guest, or the loss of whatever it was that had been hidden within the wrappings. Any interactions with the master for the next few days had been unpleasant to say the least and up to this day he’d been the least liked of his guards. Worst of all in the housewatcher’s mind, was that his pay had been cut quite severely since that day.

So no, letting Grey-Tongue in was not a mistake he planned on making again. He tried to close the door without a further word, but the investigator blocked the opening with his cane.
“It is not his decision to make, Usheeja. You do know my occupation.” He countered calmly. Usheeja’s spines rose further.
“I know. But my master does not want your business here. He would not be pleased if I let you pass. So leave.” Usheeja said and added emphasis to his words by drawing the small sword at his hip partially from his sheath. Grey-Tongue was not worried. He’d been in a standoff with Umbacano’s guards before, though never with Usheeja. On his end, the court of the Imperial City had given him full permission to interfere in Umbacano’s affairs if he suspected him of unlawful activities. On Umbacano’s end, the Altmer only had the call of a homeowner protesting against trespassing. But Grey-tongue was still officially located on the city streets, not Umbacano’s private property. If Usheeja dared draw his blade, the still waiting guard would have a legitimate reason to interfere. After that, just the threats of his personnel would have given Grey-Tongue sufficient reason to enter the mansion, arrest Umbacano, confiscate all his property for investigation and bring in all individuals present for questioning. Umbacano had also been warned that any sudden death or severe injury of Grey-Tongue would be interpreted as a possible act of revenge on his part and result in an investigation. While this last clause would not help the Argonian directly, it was part of the massive leverage he could use against the man and his staff.

He gave the handful of steel only a cursory glance before dismissing the unspoken threat with a shake of his snout.
“I would advice against drawing your sword, Usheeja. It would not be tolerated. If it assures you, my business is not with him, but with his guests. I will not leave until I’ve spoke with them.” He said and shifted slightly to his right, allowing Usheeja to see the guard leaning against the pillar down the plaza. The armoured Imperial adjusted his belt in a seemingly casual gesture but his eyes never wandered from the manor’s entrance. Usheeja sighed as he rammed his sword back into its sheath.
“Fine, you win. What about these guests? I have not let anyone in this morning. It has been only the master here, Jollring and I.” The Argonian hissed. Though his weapon had returned to its proper place, he still displayed all the Argonian signs of aggression. Spines raised, teeth bared, eyes sunken beneath the protective bone-ridge of his brow. By contrast, Grey-Tongue’s posture was that of a human nobleman addressing a lowly servant. Bent forward, both hands rested on their cane, feet close together and his snout disformed by a reasonable facsimile of a smile.
“I’ve been investigating them for some time now. I know that they entered this house approximately eleven minutes ago. There were two individuals. A Redguard male in yellow, a Bosmeri female in blue. The Redguard was wearing a travelling pack of the type used by huntsmen or pilgrims. He also carried a large sack. The Bosmer carried nothing except for a cylindrical object. You let them in. So do not attempt to distort the truth by restricting your answer to the morning when it is currently noon. That can be considered premediated obstruction of a lawful investigation, Usheeja. I am certain that the court would enjoy debating the details with you.” He replied amicably. The other Argonian snarled, throwing his hands up and kicking the door open.
“Hist-Brother, take your guests and leave. Do not anger Umbacano any further than you must.” He said as he moved aside. Grey-Tongue nodded, still with an unnatural smile on his face.
“Thank you, Usheeja.” He said and stepped inside.
“Just go.”

Grey-Tongue let his eyes wander over the entrance hall instead of walking in further, much to Usheeja’s continuing frustration. Other than the two Argonians, the hall was empty. That was somewhat unusual since Umbacano’s steward, Jollring, was also meant to be here where he could invite or reject any guests. From experience, the Argonian knew that the balding Nord only left the room when he needed to attend to his master, or after visiting hours had passed. In this case he assumed that Jollring was with Umbacano and his two visitors, most likely upstairs. Other than that observation, the hall was devoid of anything that he could use as a clue or leverage. Umbacano was known throughout the city and beyond for his collection of Ayleid artefacts, but he never showed this collection to anyone. All of his prized possessions were kept upstairs in his private living room. The entrance hall and all the other rooms for that matter, only held a rather generic assortment of upper-class furniture and decorations. He did notice that the hall was more sparsely furnished than it had been during his last visit. It appeared that Umbacano had begun to sell off his less valued possessions now that his original wealth had begun to run dry in his endless quest for Ayleid artefacts. With a mental shrug, he ascended the stairs.

Voices reached him from behind the door even before he reached the top and Grey-Tongue decided to eavesdrop for a moment before making his presence known. At the bottom of the stairs, he could feel Usheeja’s hateful stare but shrugged it off. The Argonian now knew better than to interfere. He probably wouldn’t raise his voice to alert his master either, afraid as he was of becoming the subject of Umbacano’s ire.
“Yes, yes. This is all very interesting I’m sure. But what is in that scroll-holder your companion has?” The first voice was easily recognized as Umbacano’s. Even if he’d never heard the man before, the context of the words and the confident air of a nobleman within his territory would have revealed his identity. The second voice, far less self-assured as Umbacano’s, was not familiar to the Argonian. He guessed it belonged to either the Redguard or the Bosmer.
“Ah, that is the third time you asked, sir. The scroll-holder is not for sale. Sorry, sir. That one’s her souvenir.” The Redguard most likely judging by the masculine tone. Unless he had been mistaken in his assessment of the dark-skinned human’s gender which he very much doubted. He pressed his ear-opening to the door to better hear the master of the house’s reply.
“That is what you say now. Everything is for sale, my young friend, but only few things are worth buying. Isn’t this what you wanted? Kindle my interest and drive up the price by showing me these cheap trinkets first? So what is on that scroll? Is it a map, the key to an ancient armory? A scripture detailing the life of the Ayleid nobility? The last document detailing the symbols of office of the Ayleid king? Jollring, show the young man the coin I’m willing to offer. He should know exactly how generous I am when presented with that which I desire.”

He had heard enough. Umbacano’s interests had not changed. While his reputation had him as a collector of everything Ayleid, in reality his preferences were far more specific. The Altmer cared not for general artefacts like Welkynd and Varla stones. His interests solely lay with the ruling classes of the Ayleid and the tools and symbols of their rule. As far as he was concerned, Umbacano could satisfy his obsession with the Ayleid masters as long as he didn’t break the law while doing so. Unfortunately, that was a line the nobleman had crossed more than once before. The private investigator knocked on the door then stepped into the room.
“Lord Umbacano. A moment. Sirs, madam.” He said as he nodded to each individual in turn. There was Umbacano, towering above everyone else even when seated with his conical hair. He wore an enraptured expression, watching the objects presented to him, a glass of wine in cupped in his hand. When he turned his head to look at the newcomer, that expression made way for one of extreme hatred.
“What?...Oh, it’s you.” He sneered. There was old Jollring standing behind his master with the bottle, as finely dressed as his master and just as displeased. He did not say a word, preferring to make his protest known through the gesture of not offering Grey-Tongue a glass. There was the Redguard standing at the center of the room, fumbling with hoops of elven steel whose purpose the investigator couldn’t even guess at. He looked up for a moment to nod before returning his attention to the contraption he was building. To Grey-Tongue it seemed as if the young man was just as dumbfounded regarding its function or structure as he himself was. Finally there was the Bosmer. Tucked away in a corner of the room next to the cabinet holding Umbacano’s abstract statues, he’d almost missed her. He didn’t dare linger his eyes on her for too long, so all he could do was reaffirm his earlier observations. A partial match, no more.
“We should have dragged the sketcher out of her bed and put her in front of Ra’Jezhr. But I really thought Maghlada would have fled the city by now, not that she would return.”

His gaze returned to the master of the house who was chewing his lip as if he’d just been told to donate his entire collection to the poor.
“Yes, it is I. As I said, a moment of your time please.” He said and bowed slightly. The Altmer shook his head vigorously and stabbed a finger towards the door.
“No, you will not have it, sir tongue. I am a very busy man. I want you out, right away.” He declared, then added: “What is the guard at the door doing? Don’t tell, it must be Usheeja. He’s always been too kind to unwanted guests like you. Go away, now.”
Grey-Tongue chuckled and shook his own head.
“I would appreciate it if you addressed me as sir Grey. Tongue sounds so inconsiderate.” He said. Old Jollring muttered something which Umbacano repeated in a louder voice. They were three simple words, filled with disdain.
“You don’t say.”

The investigator shrugged. It amazed him how all of his conversations with Umbacano safe for the first had all started the exact same way. Umbacano would tell him to leave while calling him Tongue. He would reply that this wasn’t the name he went by. Now with the opening-ritual complete, he hoped to touch upon the real subject.
“I do. And it is not up to you to send me away. I am here on official business. As always.” He said. He noticed that the Redguard had stopped his attempts at fitting the hoops together and now watched the conversation unfold. The woman however was standing rockstill like a statue, her eyes closed and her hands wrapped around the cylinder in her hands. In fact, he was certain that she hadn’t so much as twitched ever since he came in. Just when he was about to wonder about it, Umbacano answered with more questions.
“Oh really? Here you intrude into my house and say you are on official business? What’s your point, bloodhound? Did Cinna ask you to steal my possessions again?”
Grey-Tongue spread his hands as he replied to the man.
“The rightful owner of those possessions has been decided in Imperial court. If you object, you are free to approach a judge and request reopening of the case. But no, my client lives at Emperor’s Way, not Zenithar’s Alley.” He gave his most generous smile and added a final remark.
“You can send me away, but no doubt my client will find other associates to send.”

The Altmer blanched. Though no names had been spoken, he knew that all who lived at Emperor’s Way were far more powerful and wealthy than him, or in service of those more powerful and wealthy. He thought he could have the Argonian forcibly removed from his house and subsequently talk or bribe his way passed the authorities. But the inhabitants of that street could beat him at his own game for the approximate price of their breakfast. He eyed the glass of wine in his hand. Then, in one swift gulp, he emptied it and held it up for refill. The next glass was consumed as quickly as the first. Amidst the sloshing of more wine served by the faithful Jollring, he spat at Grey-Tongue.
“Fine. State your business, Tongue!”

The Argonian noted to himself that telling Umbacano the truth, even partially, would be a mistake. So he would have to use the story he already prepared before stepping into the house.
“My client has expressed interest in Ayleid artefacts. Not artefacts in the possession of collectors such as yourself, but ones recently unearthed. It has come to my ear that some enterprising youngsters have made a discovery and intend to sell. Unfortunately, I possess a reputation for finding items and persons of interest, not for collecting. So I saw it as necessary to visit your mansion and place a bid of my own.” He explained, though he knew that Umbacano would think he’d merely been spying on him. In fact, he had once already accused the Argonian of buying the house on the opposite side of the plaza expressly for that purpose. Umbacano had even threatened to drag him to court and have the deed on his home annulled. The process was eventually decided after a few days of bickering lawyers, when Grey-Tongue had conclusively proven that he’d inhabited that house years before his first case against Umbacano.

“You are looking to buy as well, sir? Would you like me to demonst…” The Redguard began but Umbacano cut him off with a wave of his empty hand.
“Silence, boy! And you, sir Tongue. Do you honestly believe I will just give up and let you go ahead with your search?” He snapped. Grey-Tongue shrugged and hissed his answer.
“If you wish to bid against my client, you are free to do so.”

For almost a minute Umbacano seethed in silence, gritting his teeth and draining what was left of the bottle of wine. Then he grabbed his head with both hands and cried out. Fine glass tinkled and burst on the thin carpet.
“Get out!” The Altmer shouted, waving at everyone.
“Sir?” The Redguard asked and Umbacano cried once more.
“All of you, leave! Leave! You too, Jollring! Leave me be!”
Grey-Tongue bowed, then stepped aside to let the glowering steward pass.
“As you wish, sir Umbacano. Have a fine day. No need to bother your staff, we know the way out.” He hissed and followed the Nord downstairs were Usheeja welcomed him with angry hissing and clenched fists. Behind him, he heard the Redguard murmur. Then there was a loud snap and the man spoke again.
“Wake up, milady. We’re leaving.”

Posted by: jack cloudy Jan 19 2012, 10:16 PM

I'm not too sure about the next bit. It feels like I'm infodumping at times and just awkward in general. Also it's too short but since I've spent over a week on this bit already, I decided to just send it out. In any case, today's bit goes from Latta's point of view again. I should also go back to reading the other threads again. Haven't found any time for it this week unfortunately.


Chapter 5.5


Umbacano manor

Stars flared across the inside of my eyelids, robbing me of sight, of my place. When I opened my eyes, the scene that greeted me seemed strange, impossible. There was no labyrinthine web of gnarled roots, no soft birdsong, no gentle waving of the sea, no tinkling of the half-sunken glass ship. No fish, no Su, no coral reefs, nothing. Just a room filled with mystifying stones, glass figurines and metal bouquets. A tree shaped like a man whispered noises at me, a golden statue shaped like a man sat on his throne, a pink salmon shaped like a man stood behind him with curved glass. I turned my head, hoping to escape the room, force the dream into something natural. There, the door. That would take me back home surely, away from this confusing nightmare. But no, a serpent stood guard.

A serpent? No, not a serpent. It couldn’t be. But the skin was right, the long face was right. Perhaps a serpent? It had to be the strangest serpent I’d ever seen. Dressed in clothes flowered with threads of gold, a silver hook dangling from its mouth, arms and legs. Standing there before the door, with its grotesque shape, like it belonged here on the dry, instead of the wet. Two elegantly clawed fingers plucked that hook out of its mouth and it flapped, hisses coming from it. Hisses that were words, strange words but definitely spoken tongue. This was simply impossible. Serpents were smart, often moreso than the young fools that ride them. They were more than capable of understanding mer culture. But they don’t care for it. Without thumbs, and a thick hide of scales, why should they? So why was this weird creature here, dressed up like a person? This had to be a dream. A crazy dream. One I should wake up from.
“Just you see. Su will wake you. Then you’ll open your eyes for real and you’ll be in your own bed, in your own room. There will be the usual five servants kneeled at the door. They will dress you, deliver the paperwork you must sign, tell you whom waits for you in the great hall to complain or request aid, who will come teach you in the afternoon, who you must dine with this evening.” I told myself. Again bright stars robbed me of my vision and this time I became aware of a burning ache at the tip of my nose. Pain didn’t belong in a dream.

I opened my eyes once more and forced myself to accept whatever I saw as real. That was no tree talking to me. It was Sorian, wagging the finger he’d raked across my nose. He was still talking, though his words were reduced to nothing but a vague wurble. I plucked a wad of cotton out of one ear, then the other. Now I could make out the words.
“Wake up, milady. We’re leaving.” He said. Leaving? Did that mean the negotiations were done? I peered passed him at the Altmer, this Umbacano. He glared back at me with such intensity I half-expected to burst into flames. Even the servant behind him wore a disaproving expression. I ducked back behind Sorian again.
“You didn’t have to hit me. That hurt.” I muttered at him. Actually, I wanted to ask what had gone wrong. It was obviously that despite all the assurances I’d been given before we stepped through the door, Sorian had failed to sell anything. Was it something he’d said, did he figure out my deception, or did the golden man simply not like my kind? I wanted to ask all that but I didn’t. I was afraid Umbacano would really call forth fire if I did.

The Redguard shrugged and made for the door. Following him, I saw that the serpent had left already. Or maybe it had been part of my imagination after all?
“I wouldn’t have if you took that cotton out of your ears the first time I poked you.” His words were cheerful, but his expression told me he was almost as angry as the Altmer. He spoke more words as I followed him down the stairs.
“I thought you were talking about meditation, not earplugs and keeping your eyes closed. Sheesh.” The urge to snap back something was overwhelming, but I kept quiet. Just how could he have messed this up anyway? All he had to do was walk in, repeat the speech I’d given him and then accept a good price. The last part had been fully up to him. Using gold and copper as currency was new to me and I had no clue to their relative value. Still, how could he have done it wrong? Did he bid too high? Did he make an obvious blunder like being rude or too informal? Or was it really me again, me and my thrice-cursed skin?

Down the stairs waited the serpent again. Only this one was different. Instead of wearing blue silks it was covered in countless metal rings, like a thousand loops of chain wrapped around its body. What was visible of the serpent itself was different as well. Reddish brown scales instead of bluish grey, sharp horns instead of fins arcing back from its brow. Another serpent?
“Maybe I should have kept my eyes open when we walked in. Then I wouldn’t be so surprised at everything. I must be flashing blue and yellow now.” I thought to myself. The manserpent opened the door, though not without baring its teeth at us. It seemed that everything in this building hated me.
“Well, that’s what you get when you go into the house of an Altmer and his mindbroken slaves. Open distaste for everything that does not fit the golden master’s tidy little world. I should have paid more attention to my grandmother’s stories instead of waving it off as delusional rambling from a stupid foreigner.” My train of thought continued into another direction. It seemed hard to believe that just by being there I would have ruined our plan. Sure, Altmeri had never been described well in the stories and the few that lived among my people weren’t exactly populair. But I’d learned modern upper-class Cyrodiilic from an Altmer and he actually seemed like a pretty decent person. Certainly much friendlier and more patient than the majority of my mentors and peers. Maybe he’d been the exception to the rule. Or perhaps it had been a simple adaptation to being trapped in a world where he was not at the top of the social pyramid. It was a distressing thought.

Outside there was a third serpent. Or was this the first one again? I honestly couldn’t tell. It waved at us and then slowly hobbled across the plaza. Sorian decided to follow it and I fell in step beside him.
“I’m taking negotiations didn’t go well?” I asked the man. He shot a withering gaze at me. Now him too? What did I do to deserve this?
“What, you didn’t notice? Of course it all went to the deep in a basket!” Sorian snapped and shook his head.
”Of course, you were busy playing blind and deaf. I was doing great, really great. Granted, he wanted your tube-thing more than the spinny-ball thing but I told him no. It was when that Argonian over there walked in that everything fell apart. Lord Umbacano wasn’t happy to see him, to put it mildly. He took it out on everyone in the room, including us. There must have been some bad blood between them in the past. The good news is, our scaly friend is buying for someone else. Supposedly.” He sighed and kicked a loose pebble, sending it clattering across the street till it hit and bounced off a stone pillar. I looked at the remembrance-device in my hands and digested his words. So a personal enemy of our only buyer came in and ruined everything. It was nice knowing that it hadn’t been my fault. It was not nice to know that we’d wasted our time for nothing.

I shook my head and kicked a pebble of my own.
“Supposedly is not a word of confidence. He probably just came in to annoy the Altmer and ruin our business. After all, didn’t your source only list one person as being interested in Ayleid goods? Let’s just head to this Chorrol you mentioned. I’m getting nervous walking here in the open.” I told him but he rejected the idea with a vigorous shake of his head.
“Nah, let’s go along with it for now. He didn’t call any names, but he did say that his client lives at Emperor’s way. I want to see if he’s good to his word. If he is, this might actually turn out to be a stroke of good fortune. Besides! It’s a big city. What are the odds of running into trouble really. If this doesn’t work out, we’ll go straight back to the gate, pick up my sword and walk west till nightfall. That I promise on the honour of myself and my ancestors.” He said and brightened up. While glad he didn’t hold our latest failure against me, I wasn’t sure I shared his opinion. To me it looked like he was letting money cloud his judgement again. A big city was a good place to hide in theory. No doubt about that. But the man in black was a vampire and obviously an important figure. If he wasn’t he’d been run out or spit on a pike by now. Staying here now that the Umbacano-plan had fallen was a mistake. But what else could I do but go with him? I’d used up what little leverage I had by making him (temporarily) give up his sword and have it exchanged for a document of ownership. He was stubborn and positively stupid at the worst of times, but he was also the closest thing to a friend I had here and the only one who knew the lay of the land and had the muscle to protect me as I walked it. As long as we weren’t assaulted by festering corpses.

I pushed my growing fears aside to look at the serpent we were following. It had gone to a building almost directly across Umbacano’s manor and now fumbled in front of the door with a heavy keyring, far heavier than I’d expect from a building this small. Seeing it do that made an eyebrow rise up, for more than one reason. Even the keys here were made out of ores. I made a mental note to keep that in mind. The apparent ubiquitousness of metals meant their price would be quite low.
“So, who lives on Emperor’s way? I assume it is anyone important?” I asked Sorian as we waited. The man grinned and theatrically waved an arm. Following the gesture, my eyes settled on the thin spire that dominated the city no matter where I was.
“Calling him important is like calling the sea wet. But come on, of course you know, lady.” He laughed. I could see what he meant. The important people always owned the best patch of ground, the most refreshing springs and the grandest structures. That still didn’t tell me who.
“I don’t know. Please humour me.” I pressed him. An idea was beginning to form already however. This was supposed to be the mainland capital, if the Royal Battlemage's account was correct. But that information was almost a century old by now and he'd described a politically unstable land. Much could have happened in those years. But then again, didn't I meet the Emperor here? If it was the Emperor. Emperor's usually don't go running through underground ruins like a treasurehunter. I grimaced at that. The same could be said of me and I'd gone on an underground treasurehunt. Before I could think any further, I got my answer. Not from Sorian, but from the serpent who finally found the right key.
“Only one man lives there. Our lord and gracious ruler. Emperor Uriel Septim.” It hissed. Sorian slapped me on my shoulder, hard. Ignoring my rebuke for that improper contact, he laughed again.
“So, still want to leave?” He asked. I ignored him, instead focussing my eyes on the serpent. I wondered how I should address the creature. Treating it like a simple animal seemed wrong. Those in possession of thumbs and knowledge of words and tools could not be considered such. I settled for treating it as an equal, for the moment. If I was wrong, I would have to apologize and profess my ignorance towards the ways of its kind.
“I did hope to receive the honour of attending Lord Emperor Uriel Septim the Seventh’s court. So if conversation and bargaining with you would result in a meeting, I would gladly accept your hospitality. After you, kind sir.” I said to it and gestured towards the open door. The serpent bared its teeth, albeit with none of the malignity I’d sensed from the metalclad one.
“I’ll endeavour to meet your expectations. I bid you both welcome to my humble sanctuary.”

Posted by: jack cloudy Jan 21 2012, 08:15 PM

And the next bit. I think I'll need at least one more, but probably two or three parts to finish up events in the Grey-Tongue manor.


Chapter 5.6


It led us into a short corridor empty of all decoration but an elegant coathanger next to the door. The serpent hooked its coat onto one of the arms and then ushered us in further.
“The living room is at the end of the hall. Please go have a seat. I’ll be with you shortly.” It hissed to us. Sorian and I traded a quick glance at each other before walking through the door it had indicated. Behind us, the serpent knocked on the only other hallway in the door. It said something but the words were lost to me. As bare as the hallway had been, so lavishly furbished was the living room. Soft fur-lined seats, thick crimson curtains hiding the streets outside, an arched chandelier overhead, paintings of woodlands and ships at full sea, fine ceramic cups on the table and silver cutlery. This, I concluded, was a place a mer could live in.

I took the seat in the far corner where I could keep sight on the door and let the remembrance-device rest on my lap. Sorian tossed his pack and bag on the floor and then sat down in the seat beside mine, next to the window.
“It’s kind of odd that he has the curtains drawn closed in the middle of the day.” He remarked. I figured it was just because the scaled person desired privacy. Being at streetlevel without an isolating garden, anyone could have looked in. A clattering of earthware down the hallway announced our host. It held a foamwhite pot in its hands and gestured with it towards the cups.
“I see that miss Wolfer has been kind enough to prepare clean cups for four. Most excellent. Would you like some tea?” It asked.
“Certainly, please.” I answered and if I’d sat any closer to him, I would have prodded the Redguard to follow my lead. Now he just sat sullenly in his chair, watching the clock ticking away on the wall. I pitied the poor fool. He simply had no idea how the upper-class did things and how critical basic etiquette was with us. I realized that even without the untimely intervention of the serpent, he would have made a mistake at some point. So this time I vowed to take part in the negotiations myself. At least it wasn’t as dreadful as the Altmer had been. Unusual certainly, but I had dealt with serpents before. From the cover of a fence and with a pair of strong handlers at its side, but this one seemed positively harmless. As it went about pouring steaming liquid into the cups I noticed more than a slight jitter. The frailty of age perhaps? I hoped so. Elders were more set in their ways, less impulsive and easier to predict once I got a handle on them. Realizing that the other was weaker than myself was also a fine way to put me at ease.

It caught my gaze and bared its dull teeth.
“Never seen an Argonian in fine garb, lady?” It questioned. I averted my eyes, angry at myself for not showing Sorian how to act properly.
“I apologize for staring. I have never encountered…an Argonian before. Again, please accept my apologies.” I said softly, dipping my head even further.
“I’m from the south.” I added, as if that explained everything. To my surprise the serpent, Argonian, let out a sound that was impossible to tell apart from amused chuckling. In fact, it was exactly what it sounded like.
“Not at all. We so-called lizardfolk are only a small minority outside our home province. Most villages never see an Argonian and even here in the capital city there are less than a hundred of us. So quite frankly, stares are among the most common and most benign responses I receive.” It laughed. It poured a cup for itself and dipped two white cubes in it before continuing.
“Unfortunately, many men and mer are rather uncomfortable around those whose bodylanguage and appearance differs significantly from their own, which leads to a fair amount of tension and prejudice. Quite a few, especially Dunmer raised in the culture of Morrowind, believe we’re barely above animals. Intelligent, but wild. Just last week, a woman dragged her son away from me when we passed each other on the street. She thought I was going to eat him.” It took a sip of its tea and grinned once more.
“I am a civilized Argonian. I very much prefer sheep.” I had to admit it, I laughed at the joke, simple as it might have been. Sorian didn’t see the humor though.

“Ok, can we just get down to business? Are you buying or did you just come to ruin our trade with Umbacano?” He spat. I wanted to kick him. That was no way to open a bartering session. I understood that he was upset over not having his precious blade and then over having his plan with Umbacano ruined. But letting his frustration be known like that simply wasn’t proper. The Argonian wasn’t pleased with the rude man either. It put down its cup before hissing back at him.
“You would do well to learn when to let anger guide you and when to control it, young man. I am a kind and tolerant being, if I may say so. Others however, do not share my patience with rude words such as those. Many are the hotheaded youngsters I’ve seen lying broken in a dark alley or pulled out of the waterside. I assure you that you do not wish to join their fate. There are powerful people in Cyrodiil, people it is best not to upset.” There was a growl at the back of its throat that hadn’t been there before. It pointedly picked up its cup again, took a slow sip from it and then addressed me, not him.
“As for whether I buy or not, depends on what is being offered. So, just for the record. Would you mind telling me what is contained within that scroll-holder?” It asked me. I didn’t know what it was talking about. We had not uncovered scrolls or anything to hold them with. Then I remembered the caged cylinder in my lap. Sorian had mistaken it for a scroll-holder as well when I first showed it to him and I supposed it could be used as such, though that would be rather redundant.

I hefted the finely made cage of Ayleid gold and the bronze tube suspended within it. I allowed the Argonian to admire the swirls and rings but kept the lenspiece hidden under a hand. Finally I removed the cap and let it peer inside.
“It is a beautiful item, but it is not for sale I’m afraid. Please forgive me, it was not my intent to deceive you.” I said. The Argonian shrugged.
“Then I will not waste both our times in further attempts at persuasion. What are you willing to offer?” It asked me.

The cycle of demonstration, bidding and counterbidding made me lose track of time. It liked the box, but didn’t see much value in the glowing crystals. It accepted the mug, but wasn’t willing to buy the fork. It told me to come back when I had a full set. Somewhere amidst the bargaining, an old lady came in to offer us bisquits. Before leaving, she asked that we would stay for diner. Apparantly our host, sir Grey, had wished to try out a new recipe and he would love for us to take part in the experiment. Just then, there was a knocking on the door and the Argonian excused himself. When I looked towards the still covered window, I realized that the streets outside had darkened quite a bit. Sorian had noticed too.
“Well, you two certainly hit it off. Now who was it that was constantly complaining that we would be taking too long in here?” He said with a smug grin.
“We both were, sir. And I can’t help it. I like him, and what he did with this place. It makes me feel at ease and when that happens,” I replied with a shrug. “I forget the time.”
I looked at the window again. Even if we left right now, it would be dark by the time we went through the gates. Where they still open at this time? Even if they were closed, there were probably a few illicit exits. Worst case, I’d rather traipse through another sewer than spend the night within these walls. But this also meant I couldn’t keep my promise to Aelwin. How was I supposed to see those scales in the night? My flare-spell didn’t function underwater. The realization was enough to dampen my feelings of contentment. I didn’t like breaking promises, especially not ones made to elders. But the man needed all the money he could get. Taking this sir Grey up on his offer for diner, then apologizing to Aelwin in the morning and doing his favour would be financially to his advantage. I could also gift him some of the coin I’d made on today’s business. I needed more than what I’d get just to even start my plans anyway, so giving some away wouldn’t make too much of a difference. Sorian let the grin fade into the closest approximation of a respectful image he could manage.
“Well you seem to be doing ok so I’ll let it slide for now. Try to bring in a big haul on our main event, would you? Here he comes again.” He said. Indeed the Argonian stepped through the door again, but he wasn’t alone.

With him came a man, a large man, wide of shoulder and long in stride. His hair was brown and slickly combed back, lending him a hawklike visage. His broad chest was clad in the finest steel I had yet seen, engraved with golden cords and two crimson serpents of an unfamiliar kind. All together, this man made me supremely nervous. A guardsman he had to be, a high-ranking one. And why would he be here if it wasn’t to arrest me for that trick I pulled at the gates? Or for my act of vagrancy and subsequent escape the day before yesterday? I felt Sorian put a hand on my shoulder. He was trying to reassure me while also warning me to keep my skin in check. Easier said than done.

“You promised me you would find some entrepreneurs with Ayleid treasure and by the Nine, you were right!” The guardsman bellowed at sir Grey. This was even worse. Were we doing something illegal? Was he going to arrest us for that, throw us back into that evil prison? He turned to Sorian and I, smiling from ear to ear.
“She’ll never know it, but in the name of my wife I thank you from the bottom of my heart. She won’t know what to say when I give her your fantastic present next week. It’s the day we were wed twenty years ago, you see.” He continued with a wink. I relaxed a little. He was not here to arrest anyone, but simply another buyer. Probably avoiding his duties in the process. But I knew better than argue about duty and commitment with one carrying a sword.
“Ah, yes. You came just in time, sir. We were right about to unveil the greatest find we made in the ancient city.” I stammered. “Ancient city’s sewer-office.”
The armoured man clapped in his hands with glee.
“Absolutely fantastic! I can’t tell you how much this means to me! I’m Hieronymous Lex by the way, but you can just call me Hieronymous!” I had to admit, I’d never seen a protector of the law bouncing up and down like a preteen before. With some amusement, I told him to wait while I assembled the many little hoops and cogs of the time-device. I just hoped they wouldn’t notice that the thing’s etched in instructions were actually in Dwemeric instead of Ayleid.

“And it should work now. Sirs, may I have your attention, please? this here is a…” I began when a voice cut me off.
“Oh now. Don’t bother your little head with explaining that little mechanism. After all, no one is going to buy it. Why don’t you just sit down and listen to me? The night is still young but there is so much I have to tell.” The voice sent shivers down my spain, made my legs into frail twigs, turned my heart into a lump of stone, flooded my thoughts with sheer panic. Him! It was him! I had to run, hide, vanish, go away! But I couldn’t, I was too weak. I fell back into the soft furs and stared, just stared.
“You.” I whimpered. Too many things happened. Sorian jumped from his seat, fists raised. Sir Grey lazily turned to peer over his shoulder. Hieronymous stood up slowly with an eager smile. The vampire bowed his head with an even more eager expression.
“Yes, I.”

Posted by: jack cloudy Jan 26 2012, 04:20 PM

I'm trying something new here. I'm diving into Sorian's head for the next part.


Chapter 5.7


13th Talos Plaza, Sorian

This was all so mindnumbingly boring. At least I tried to get things done quickly. But no, the wood elf and that lizard just kept talking in circles, or completely forgot what they were doing to exchange pleasantries. I didn’t need to know where that rug was made, or who gave him the clock on the wall. Or what that tea tasted like! Then that clown of a guardsman came in and things only got worse. Now she had two people to yabber with.
“I should have never let her take over things. Ancestors guide me, I should have chosen a different damsel in distress to save. One that knows how to be properly grateful. One that doesn’t make so many demands. Me and my stupid reflexes.” I thought to myself. All along, Maorlatta had been nothing but trouble and nagging. Really, just what was wrong with her? Acting like she’s better than me, or that some vampire was after her. Vampires don’t even exist! That was a one-off thing, some sailor looking for some fun without the coin to pay for it. But she just kept focussed on it like it was the end of the world. I shouldn’t have let her latch on to me, but what was I supposed to do? Ansei don’t ditch the people they just saved without a word, no matter how much trouble they might cause later on. The most frustrating thing was there were times she was actually helpful. But those were so far apart, I swore she knew when I was just about ready to leave her before doing something useful.
“And what is with that talking skin? She can’t keep it quiet with a high elf, but she can with a damned Argonian in a suit? Crazy woman and her creepy eyes.” I sighed and began to nod off again. She flashed, hard enough to make my eyes hurt. Black, white, the colour of the chair.
“Yes, I.” Someone said. It wasn’t the idiot captain, or the wannabe-noble. I looked and saw him. That man in the black robe, the one I’d saved her from when we first met. How did he find us, and why did he even go through all that trouble? Wasn’t he scared I’d run him through?

I jumped up, my hand reaching for my sword. But all I grasped was the paper those gatekeepers had given me. I realized that again she’d caused me trouble.
“Dammit! How can I fight without my sword?” I asked myself now that all I had were my fists. The guard and the lizard turned as one. Of course, the guardsman! He was armed, he could take him!
“That man is a rapist!” I yelled and pointed. To my shock and anger, they all ignored me. The lizard just watched, the clown brought his hand down to the blade but did not draw and the guy in black? He just continued talking as if I or anyone but him and Maorlatta didn’t even exist.
“For a moment there, I thought I wouldn’t make it in time. It is fortunate then that I am a very good runner. A very good one indeed.” He chuckled at his own joke and made a dismissive wave with his hand.
“Now now. No need to try that. It is most amusing but not very effective. Why don’t you wear the skin of a normal woman so we can continue yesterday’s conversation in a more civilized manner? It is so disconcerting to speak to an empty chair and a pile of rags.”

Now the guard finally saw fit to reveal steel. He held the sword out in front of him and shoved his seat away with a foot. Then he talked.
“You must be that vampire I’ve been informed about. I was hoping you’d show up. As captain of the guard, it is my duty to inform you that you are under arrest for the charge of several murders, breaking and entering, illegal possession of a bladed weapon.” He said, as if he were giving a list of groceries. He grinned. “And not to forget being a vampire.”
The man in the robe also grinned as he kept staring at the chair my damsel sat in. His eyes didn’t even drift down to the broadsword for an instant.
“A vampire? You amuse me, captain. But is it not common knowledge that vampires do not dare venture out in the sun? Look outside my good man, the sun may be setting but it is still daylight.” He said, as if he was surprised that anyone could even think he was one.
“Of course he is! Vampires don’t exist!” I wanted to move in, punch him in the face, pound that filthy smile away. But my body wouldn’t move. It was like it was telling me to stay put, that this guy was too dangerous to tangle with. But he’d ran away quick enough when I threatened him with my sword last time. Perhaps too quick? I licked my lips which suddenly felt very dry.

The Argonian seemed the least worried of all of us. He just sat down his cup of tea and looked at the intruder.
“Common knowledge is often wrong. Many of the victims died during the day, where the sun could find them. And I do not believe I gave you permission to enter my home. Regardless of who or what you may be, you are trespassing.” He said when the not-vampire had denied the accusation. This actually did seem to get a rise out of the man, where the naked blade had not. But he still didn’t shift his eyes anywhere else.
“I wasn’t asking you, lizard. But very well, I admit it. I am a vampire, I so enjoy drinking the blood of the wealthy, of those who have enemies that would rather see them put under. What are you going to do about it, watchdog?” He said, all pleasantness gone from his face. What was left was a feral snarl, like an animal. So vampires were real? Was this what my body had been trying to tell me? I’d really picked the wrong girl to save.
“Two things. First we’ll march you off to one station and then we’ll march the Bosmer off to a different station. It’s a shame you prefer black robes. It would be so much more convenient if they were red.” The captain continued as if placing bloodsuckers in chains was something he did every day. The vampire bared his teeth in a wide grin. The thin layer of humanity that had covered his last one was completely gone.
“Now that was careless, captain. Did they never tell you to not give up any information to your suspects? Now I know whose heels you lick. Then it is as I feared and he intends to betray us. No matter, for it appears he has made a critical mistake.”

“Who, what? What is that thing talking about? Who does the captain work for, not the Emperor? No, it is lying. It has to be lying. He isn’t a vampire either, just a delusional freak. And just a moment from now, the guard will strike him down.” I repeated the words in my head, believing them less and less each time. I held onto the nonchalance of the lizard and the captain. They were not scared of it, so I didn’t have to be scared either. But the vampire was just as unworried with them as they were with it.
“You see, he went to Chorrol yesterday and I doubt he’ll come back to help you. The Bosmer goes with me and only me. Now if you’re smart, you’ll go away and forget this ever happened. But you can’t do that, can you? I know you, Hieronymous Lex. You are this aggravatingly incorruptible champion of the law. It is not in your nature to ignore a crime unfolding before your very eyes. Well then, my good captain. It was about time you witnessed a lawbreaker you can’t stop.” It hissed.
Lex settled into a nearly textbook fighting stance. One foot in front of the other, knees somewhat bent. The only thing that was off was the way he held his sword behind him instead of in front of him. The vampire still ignored him, as if a trained and armed man was not worth his attention.
“I don’t care if you’re an ancient undead beast or just a man like the rest of us. I will place you under arrest.” The Imperial said and shifted his weight.
“Yes yes, that is all very dramatic. I am sure that all those poor half-starved drunken bar-brawlers are very intimidated by you, the Emperor-granted sword and that rocksolid conviction of yours. I however, am not.” At the last word, Lex leapt. The sword came in low and fast. Halfway through the motion, the monster turned. Then it was all over. The guardsman crashed onto the ground, his legs shaking. The vampire balanced on the backrest of the seat Lex had shoved aside. He licked the thing in his hand. To my horror, I realized it was a knife as black as the night sky.
“Now then, does anyone else desire to object to my very reasonable request?” It asked.

I was frozen, speechless. Lex had shown skill and speed, probably enough to match even me. But he hadn’t even remotely been a threat to it. I looked at him, saw him lie there on the ground. He groaned and bit down on his lip. He was still alive, but not able to fight. Just what had the vampire done to him in that instant? Triumphantly, it hid the dagger in a sleeve of its robe and turned its eyes back to the girl. He was going to finish what he’d started, he would kill her, drink her blood. And all I would do was watch. My breathing was ragged, quick gasps like a fish on the dry. My heart beat in my chest like a hundred drums, pounding in my ears, my skull. I screamed to myself though my lips didn’t move.
“No, NO! Sorian, you said you’d be a hero. You dreamed of it every day of your life. Well here’s your chance. Don’t let that thing have its way! Stand up to it. If you don’t have a sword, fight with your hands. If you don’t have hands, fight your teeth. Stand against evil till the last breath, till you crumble to dust! NOW ACT!”

It felt as if I’d blacked out. First I was standing by the window, then I was standing before her. Like it had refused to move at first, so now it had decided to leap without telling me first. The vampire stared at me, bored its eyes into mine.
“You, boy?” It asked me. I struggled for words through my dry throat. I found them.
“If I had my sword, I would blunt it on your bones.”
The vampire chuckled. I knew that to it I had to be even less of a threat than the captain had been. I was painfully aware that my knees and hands were shaking.
“Oh, I’m sure you would try. But you don’t have your sword, so please step aside. Does your mother know you are out picking fights you can’t win?” It sneered and chuckled again. I wanted to move, at least try to land a blow. Even if it would kill me, if I could just hit it before I fell! Adrenaline surged through my veins, all my senses were tightened to the point it hurt. But that body, that stubbornly independent body of mine wouldn’t budge.
“I can’t move!” I gasped. The monster frowned the tiniest bit.
“Can’t? Or won’t? Odd choice of words. Very well then, I’ll humour your desire to be the hero and talk through you. Hopefully you’ll have grown some common sense by the time I’m done. Till then, keep your mouth shut.” It stepped off the chair and slowly approached me as it continued to speak. Fear held me tight, making it almost impossible to breathe.
“You see, my young treehugging friend, it appears that you are quite the desirable woman. Just look at you, you’ve been reduced to a quivering wreck through sheer terror, yet your control over that spell remains rock-solid. I’ve seen a lot over the centuries of my life, but rarely did I meet someone who was possessed of all the talents we need. Oh yes, the Brotherhood could do well with you and you would go far if you’d join us.”

He was so close! All I had to do was reach out. Reach out, and not get cut down before I’d even made a third of the distance.
“But regrettably I am not the only one with sharp eyes. The false Emperor wants you as well. He put forth a valiant effort at keeping me away, sending me to Chorrol, then giving me some bogus mission of finding people in red robes and telling the lizard here about them.” A leathery hand waved at the Argonian who still sat there in silence. He had not moved a muscle since the captain was struck down. The vampire leaned in even closer, his cold breath tickling my nose, brushing away my hair.
“I am too smart for him, and too quick a runner. I knew he was attempting to take you for himself. And why not? He needs a loyal murderer as much as I do. But he will not have you.” It continued. I leaned away from it, creating as much distance as I could without moving my feet.
“Go get burned by the sun! Like she’d ever join you and your gang of cutthroats!” The words were feeble, little more than a whisper. It moved, a hand snapping passed me like an arrow. With a shriek I pulled back further, my legs colliding with Maorlatta’s. The impact knocked me off my balance and by the time I’d regained it, the hand had pulled back already. The vampire smiled as it took another step back.
“See that knife? Like you, it is a virgin blade that has never before tasted blood. It is yours, the gift of one shadow to another. Take it, and plunge it in the heart of that annoying twerp!” He commanded. Unbidden, my eyes turned and indeed there it was. A knife as black as the night, plunged into the chair right next to her head. She was crying now, I noticed, and curled up into a ball like a newborn child.
“Lady, you can’t.” I whispered. I didn’t know if she’d heard me. More words from the monster snapped my gaze back.
“Oh, but she can. The will to survive is a powerful creature, not to be underestimated. Make no mistake, blood will be spilled here today. You kill him, or make a valiant effort. I won’t be disappointed if you happen to miss a vital spot. Then I kill the guard, the lizard and the old woman in the kitchen. You will live and I shall welcome you into the Dark Brotherhood as a sister.” It said in an airy tone, as if exchanging mere gossip.
“Or you can refuse and I slay you along with everyone else. Either way, you will walk with Sithis. Give it some thought. You’ll have till the sun sets.”

Time went by, simultaneously slower than the seasons yet too fast. All was silent, safe for the clock. With each too loud tick, the clock announced another second had gone by. Another second closer to nightfall. Another I expected to be my last. I didn’t dare to look, couldn’t bear the thought of seeing the knife that would kill me, the hand that would plunge it into my heart. I wished for time to stop, to save me by freezing the world in stillness. Yet the sun continued to set, deaf to my pleas. Finally, words broke the loud silence. It was the Argonian that spoke, as if it had just woken up from a peaceful slumber.
“Since my fate has already been sealed, would you mind to listen to an old Argonian’s last request?” It asked the vampire, that looked at it with genuine surprise. I too felt my eye drawn to the scaled creature. Had it lost its mind, or was it merely about to beg for its life?
“A request? You ask a honoured member of the Dark Brotherhood, a vampire that follows the Night-mother. You ask me your last request? You must truly hate someone that you are willing to ask the Dark Brotherhood with your own death as the price.” The robed nightmare laughed. It caught itself and nodded upon reaching a decision.
“Very well, I’ll at least let you say your piece.”

The Argonian said nothing for a moment. When it spoke, I was certain he had gone crazy.
“I was hoping to have miss Wolfer try out a new recipe. She should be just about done. Would you care to join us for diner?” The words were ridiculous but scarcely were they spoken, or the door opened and my nose was assaulted by a smothering smell that made the eyes water. But I scarcely noticed. No, my attention was on the vampire who reeled as if an Orc had him with a hammer.
“What, how did you know?!” It cried. I couldn’t believe it, it’s body was actually heaving as if about to throw up! It stumbled away from the door, over towards the window. All at once, numbed limbs sprang back to life. It was weak! If I was going to strike, it would be now or never! Body and soul worked as one. The hands needed a weapon.
“The knife.” The mind said. Fingers snatched the black from the chair, feet drove me closer. “Give us a place to strike” The hand holding the knife said.
“There, its head is bowed. Plunge it into its back.” The eyes answered. A wordless cry escaped my lips as both hands, both arms, both shoulders and both legs joined together to drive it down into the evil. The beast cried in pain. An arm swung out, knocking me aside. Then the vampire hurled itself through the window, erupting into a blaze the moment its flesh brushed against the curtains. I scrambled back onto my feet, to give chase. But the moment had passed and I didn’t make it two steps before slumping down again. After that instant I had become completely exhausted.

“Who was that man?” A frog croaked. With the last of my strength I looked up to see who had spoken. It was an old woman, a scarecrow holding a steaming pot. The Argonian finished his cold tea and answered.
“Merely someone who cannot appreciate your fine culinary techniques, miss Wolfer.”



OOC: I'm not sure if this really went so well. The transition from invincible to vulnerable is a bit sudden maybe.

Posted by: jack cloudy Feb 1 2012, 07:36 PM

Chapter 5.8


I couldn’t move a muscle so I contented myself with watching the guardsman, the old woman and the Argonian. Why did they ignore me? Didn’t they see that I struck the damn thing a mortal blow? By all rights they should be praising me, not make attempts at dry humour. Well if they wouldn’t, I would simply have to congratulate myself, wouldn’t I? After all, I’d done it! I’d fought a vampire and won!
“If brother only knew. Hah, who is the man now? Who gets all the glory? Me, that’s who! I killed a vampire, that´s what! And I’m going to be so famous that you’ll hear songs about me all the way back in Skaven!” My chest heaved in silent laughter and I stopped only when my ribs started to hurt. Right now, I felt like I could take on the world…As soon as I got up from the floor.

They still hadn’t even glanced my way, though the situation had taken a turn for the unexpected. First the old crone had gone into the hallway and the Argonian had removed the armoured man’s greaves. Then the woman came back with a small vial in her hands. I could already see what they were doing. They were trying to feed him a potion, though why that required him to strip was beyond me. What I couldn’t predict was that Maorlatta literally tackled the old woman to the floor and snatched the potion from her hands.
“That’s a fast recovery.” Were my first thoughts, followed by the expectation that she was going to give the potion to me. I needed it more than the Imperial did. What if the vampire came back? He had been rather useless whereas I had been the only one to touch the thing.
“Nah, it’s probably bleeding out in a backalley. Now come on girl, hand it over.” I thought. But she didn’t come my way. No, she dropped it between the guard’s legs then began yelling at everyone. Crazy Wood Elf.
“Don’t give him that!” She snapped. The injured man struck the rug with a fist then hissed back at her in a few pained gasps.
“It’s a healing potion. It’s meant to reattach my legs to my body, girly.”

Maorlatta let out a groan loud enough to drown out my own and she shook her head vigorously. Half her bun came loose and slapped her in the face. She stopped shaking and began to prod the man’s legs with one hand while the other worked to get her hair untangled. With an icycold voice she began to lecture everyone present.
“What needs reattaching is your brain to your common sense. What I need here is a scalpel…pincers, or maybe a needle and some very fine thread. Also some pure alcohol and a bucket. Leave the magicks-juice for later.” I groaned again. And she complained about me being confrontational! I watched their responses carefully, all the while praying that I would recover my strength fast enough to drag her away from here. I saw the old bat sitting back up, dizzy but seemingly unhurt. I saw the confusion flash through the agony on the guard’s face. I saw the Argonian watch her intently without hissing a word. The last one worried me the most. The little Elf wasn’t even trying to hide her tricks anymore. Every time she moved, her skin would take on the shade of the nearest object. It made me a little queasy.
“Hold on. Isn’t that rather excessive? Potions work well with most common injuries. And those are standard issue, they work.” The Imperial gasped. I noticed that his voice was steadily becoming stronger somehow, as if he had gotten used to the pain he was in.
The Elf shook her head again, slower this time.
“Common injuries don’t steal control over ones limbs without breaking bones or causing massive bleeding. I can’t see more than two cuts thinner than my fingernails at the back of each knee. This is clearly a case of internal incision, not an external papercut. Use the potion and you will remain useless. Now, pincers or needles and hurry up a bit.” It was strange to hear her speak like that. No matter how biting her words were or how wild the colours were that streaked across her face, the tone she used was a dull monotone as if she didn’t care at all. It was strange, and not good at all. At least the last time she’d gotten snappy like that, she’d shown the good grace to scream in righteous fury. This was just…unnatural.

The old woman had struggled back onto her feet and raised her hand as if she was going to hit Maorlatta, then thought better of it. Instead of lashing out with violence, she lashed out with words.
“Such rudeness. How dare you throw an old woman to the ground and then make demands. Did your mother raise you like that? You have no right to snap at your betters like this, you little know-it-all.” The angry crone shrieked, only to be completely ignored. She harumped loudly and again was dismissed without even a gesture. Finally, at the same time I realized just what the girl was up to, the old bat decided to try slapping again.
“Oh great, she’s in that mode again. Ancestors, what did I do to deserve her?” I thought and spoke up before anyone did something they would regret.
“She’s a healer, a really bossy one. Just go on and do it or she’ll never shut up.” Before I could say anything more, the Wood Elf herself cut in. So she wasn’t deaf after all, she just didn’t give a damn about any opinion that wasn’t her own.
“Well, what else is new?”

“I also have a license to perform surgical operations on living subjects. Passed the exam only three decades ago. Now where is that scalpel?” She claimed and tapped her chest proudly.
“And do you carry your license with you?” The guardsman wanted to know. What caught my attention however, was the exam she’d mentioned. Or rather, how long ago that was. Three decades? That was thirty years! That would mean she was older than brother Cyrus. Much older, cause I was pretty sure she didn’t get this license-thing while still in the crib. I was reminded how lucky the damn Elves were. They treated decades as mere years. A Redguard swordsman stayed in his prime for fifteen years maybe, an Elven swordsman could remain active for over a century! I watched as she crawled over the floor to pick up something, wondering just how old she really was. Older than she behaved, that much was for certain.

“Excuse me. Operating without being able to produce a license is illegal, you know.” The Imperial tried again but she continued talking over him.
“Oh, Obsidian. Perfect.” She held up the thing she’d grabbed and I saw that it was the same knife I’d used. There was even some blood pouring from the blade. I’d thought it was still in the vampire’s back, but it must have gotten wrenched free when it threw me aside.
“Hey, are you listening?” The guard persisted in trying to get her attention but it wasn´t going to happen. He craned his head around as far as it went but couldn’t see her from where she was, not without getting up and he seemed unwilling to do that much. Meanwhile, Maorlatta had grabbed a little metal box we’d tried to sell and smashed the knife with it. Why, I didn’t know but if her frown was any indication, she’d failed.
“Not Obsidian.” She declared with a smoky wisp of disappointment trailing her hand. Then she summoned her flare, immersed the blade in it and knelt down next to the captain’s immobilized legs.
“What’s she doing?” The man asked with rising panic as he caught a flash of the Ebony hilt.

I could move my own legs again and, a little shaky, stood up to go see for myself. What I saw made me sick. She was holding the knife near the tip between thumb and forefinger, and she was cutting into his knee as if it was a lump of cheese!
“I…I think I need to step out for a moment.” The crooked old lady muttered and turned her head. I retched and thought about following her. Only my promise kept me at her side.
“It is a very beautiful wound.” Maorlatta declared as she snapped up the fold of skin like a tentflap. My stomach tried to tie itself into a knot again. How could she be so…admiring over skinning a living man’s body like that? Even the victim of her mutilation was upset by her words, and he couldn’t even see what she’d done!
“Hey kid, I thought you said she was a healer? This sounds more like a necromantic hobbyist with brainrot to me. Just what is she doing? I can’t feel it over all the pain.”

I had to look away, look at anything else but that before I’d lose my last meal. My eyes turned to the Argonian, who watched the exposed joint with only faint hiss and the slightest twitch of its snout. It blinked, then stepped out in the hallway, leaving me with only a wall to look at. Behind me, Maorlatta the ripper continued praising the injury.
“Nerves, major arteries, the joint itself, it’s all intact. Your only injury is in the form of cut tendons and some unimportant tissues. That’s why your knees won’t move. It’s like a rigging without rope. It is really clean, more like an autopsy than a fighting-related injury. That makes fixing it much easier than I’d expected.” My gaze was dragged back to her as she talked and I saw she was licking her lips. The broken window and fallen curtain became very interesting all of a sudden. The old woman stood outside, telling her tale to everyone who had stopped outside, including another guardsman. I wondered what that protector of the people would think if he looked in and saw what was going on.

“So it’s minor? Then just give me the potion and let’s call it a day. Just get that knife away from me. I don’t like strangers with knives.” The guard inside spoke. He was rewarded by a slap on his butt.
“Don’t interrupt me. Using a potion would close the wound, but it only accelerates the natural healing processes and somewhat extends them beyond the normal limits. Reconnecting fully severed tendons is far beyond those limits. I’ll have to manually reconnect the severed ends and then we can pour on the magicks-juice. Doing it now would either lead to two scarred up stumps at worst or a badly shifted and uneven connection at best.”

The master of the house’s return was announced with a low growl and a nudging against my shoulder. When I turned to look, it pressed a bottle into my arms with its scaly hand. Its other hand was holding a bucket. I looked at the bottle and remembered that the woman had asked for it.
“Is that the alcohol?” I wondered out loud and the Lizardman nodded.
“It is a Zarador Beverages bottle imported from Vvardenfell. 86% alcohol according to the label. The purest I could find.” He hissed. Looking in the bucket, I saw there were more items in it. I saw a needle, a spool of thread and a wrapping of common bandages.
“It’s better than nothing.” Maorlatta declared and followed it right up with more orders.
“Pour some out in the bucket and feed the rest to the patient. Sorian, get some of those Welkynd stones over here. This place isn’t properly lit for surgery. And could someone tell them to shut up out there? I’m trying to concentrate.”

I locked eyes with the Argonian and rolled mine. How exactly was I supposed to make a whole district keep quiet while she carved up a man in the living room?
“Shall I drain the sea with a spoon as well, my queen?” I sighed. She didn’t hear my joke, or pretended to. Instead she gave a very unneeded warning to the butchered meat under her knife. I had to admit that the guardsman took it with grace and humour though.
“This will hurt a bit. Now hold still.”
“You’re not giving me a choice, are you?”
“No.”
“Just hurry up a bit, alright? I still have to write a report this evening on why I left my station.”

Posted by: mALX Feb 2 2012, 11:37 PM

*

The chapter headed "Lake Rumare" had me rolling !!

I have to quote at least this, because I nearly fell out of my chair on it:

Posted by: jack cloudy Feb 7 2012, 09:50 PM

Ah yes, I remember that part. It was back when I had no real idea of what to do with Latta, so I just pushed her off on a random detour. I also remember that her personality was still unformed at the time (not that it is formed now, but meh.) Of course, now I have the opposite dilemma. I know what to do with Latta, but not what to do with the Altmer.

Moving on to more current matters. This night simply won't end. Anyway, I'm trying another experiment of weaving unnecessary flashbacks into the narration. Oh, and a quick disclaimer. I know nothing about surgery. So anything you read here is misinformed fiction. DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME


Chapter 5.9


Maorlatta


Those idiots thought that simply shoving a liquid cure down one’s throat was the answer to all ills. Unbelievable! It might help against a bruise or a scratch or even a minor bonefracture, which was all a man in full armour could expect. But against a cut to the back of the knee? No way. It was blind reliance on alchemy that made cripples like old Aelwin. This would be a mess that needed professional aid, not dumb improvisation. I’d seen it happen! Or had I? My mind felt as cottonfilled as my ears had been. Trying to remember, trying not to remember made my head hurt. So I gave up and instead prepared myself for the worst. Now what was the most severe joint-related injury I had encountered?

“I don’t know what happened. All of a sudden 32 went crazy and bit me. They had to put her down.” The young mer muttered with glassy eyes. Good, the anaesthetic appeared to be working. I threw a glance over my shoulder were the other breeders with their poles were still doing their utmost to keep the trashing Razorspine Serpents under control. It wasn’t breeding season so the farmers appeared to be at a loss, at least for the moment. Once they’d gotten their cattle back under control and took the time to think, they’d reach the same conclusion I already had.

Razorspines were notoriously territorial towards their Bluescale cousins to the point that a farm with one species was not allowed to exist on the same island as a farm with the other. Going by the thick scent that hung around our young victim and the witness-report, he had been in contact with someone who scented her letters with the musk of just that species. He should have known better than carry it around with him but then again, no one ever said that love makes you smart.
“I get that all the time. They think I stink.” I joked. That got a thin smile from the wounded fool and a verbal reprimand of my master.
“Apprentice Healer second grade, you are not here to talk. You are here to watch, listen and maybe ask. If you must speak of trivial matters, use colours, not sounds.” Same old Zelrith as always. A complete lack of all emotions except for the bad. I flashed a demure consent, fiddled with the fire some more and rechecked the balance of the burner so it wouldn’t tip over. Once all that was done and the waterpot was bubbling without boiling over, I kneeled behind the Master Healer.

I remembered the weather had been nice that day. No wind, sunny but not too bright. Still early in the day so I wasn’t sweating my hands away. It was a real good day to do things.
“No, no. No detours now, Latta.” I told myself and knelt down beside the injured man, Hieronymous. The wound was surprisingly minor at the surface. I’d expected…more blood, big cuts or something. Not these mosquitobites. But it wasn’t a mosquito, it couldn’t have been. I wouldn’t be so disturbed by a mere bloodsucker, right? I decided I required a better look. Just because it looked innocent on the outside didn’t mean it would be so minor on the inside. My mind conjured horrible images. Would it be as bad as that time?

“Look closely, apprentice.” He began and cut away the last few scraps of skin, laying them neatly down on the sterilized tray for later replantation. I closed the lid on it and watched the young man’s arm. What was left of it anyway. Both upper and lower arm seemed alright. Some big and deep scrapes, a few punctures and probably a couple fractures. Nasty, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed with a splint, a lot of stitches, some medication and insulation. It was the elbow joint that was the real problem. Nearly torn off, crushed, leaking fluids all over the grass and I couldn’t even think of where to begin to repair the damage. Master Zelrith however had already begun to telekinetically shift bits and pieces, hum restorative spells to here and there and remove fragments with his pincer. He didn’t acknowledge the overbearing presence of the man’s parents who I had to wave away every few seconds. Nor did he notice their faces when he turned their beloved son’s tragedy into a practical demonstration for my sake.
“Next to intestinal organ damage, open joint injuries are some of the most complicated ones you will work with. It is arguably simpler because when in doubt, a limb can always be amputated.” I heard a double gasp behind me at the mention of amputation.
“Amputation however is and must remain a last resort.” That lesson was nothing new to me, so it had to be for the worrywarts looming over our shoulders.


I reminded myself that it was the worst-case scenario. Hieronymous’ legs were not hanging on by a few mere threads. But he was still incapacitated and in a lot of pain. Normally I’d say muscle-sprain, but with the two entry-wounds at the back of each knee, I’d ruled it out. All things said and done, I definitely had to see what had been done to him beneath the skin. That would require some preparations, and feeding Hieronymous a potion was not one of them.

It got too much for me. I had to get up and physically push the middle-aged couple away.
“Please give the Master Healer some room. A steady and unobstructed hand is vital here.” I whispered to them though I was more worried they’d kick over my pot or trample our equipment. That would be a disaster.
“The greatest complication is self-evidently the injury to the elbow. Make note of the ruptured tissues that surround the synovial cavity.” Master Zelrith explained, indicating a tear and the combined leakage of synovial fluids and blood. Usually it was the place where the bones of the joint came together, bathed in lubricant and soft cartilage. Now, it was a crumpled broken mess.
“The sack can be repaired in the usual manner, but in order to avoid more damage to the joint due to friction, a new supply of synovial fluid must be injected. Scalpel.”

First I needed a knife, a really sharp one. Like that one right over there. Its blade was black and crystalline, so it had to be Obsidian. Was this what caused those pinpricks? Its tip had the right dimensions, thin and very sharp. Almost needlelike. Behind that however came gruesome serrated teeth and near the hilt it had thickened to a solid block of crystal. And blood dripped from tip to guard, finding no hold on the smooth material. This was not a surgical instrument. But why did it drip this much blood? Had it been twisted inside? Those teeth wouldn’t fit in a gap that small. And what about that thin tip? It should have snapped right off if it got twisted. This didn’t make any sense!

Again I pushed my thoughts back to more productive paths. First I’d need to strike off a shard of the knife and sterilize it. If I held it by the grip like this it would be like doing surgery with a sledgehammer. In the meantime, I could run over the possible procedures that needed doing.

I fished the Obsidian blade from its sterilizing bath, carefully attached it to its handle and gave it to master Zelrith. He used it to cut away some of the more dangerous bonefragments before continuing his lecture.
“You will obtain this sample from the opposite joint. First make an incision to expose the synovial cavity then another small incision to access the synovial fluid. Be quick however. Synovial cavities are a delicate organ and must not be contaminated. Use the number eight needle and fill only up to two bars. Then reseal the opening you’ve made. I shall use the mage-copy spell to duplicate the extracted fluid till there is enough to last for the body’s natural processes to refill the cavity.”

“Master, please. You would ask her to…a mere apprentice? This is our son!” The mother pleaded with wide eyes when I fished a second scalpel from the bath as well as a few clamps. As if it mattered who he was. Pauper or king of the land, to master Zelrith they were all the same, receiving the same level of aid and the same risk of being turned into an educational exercise. But that’s not the kind of thing you say to someone’s parents.
“The procedure I am conducting on the patient’s wound is too vital to interrupt.” Master Zelrith replied without raising his voice or averting his eyes. Patient, nothing more. With master Zelrith it was always patient, relative, esteemed colleague or apprentice. Never names.
“My apprentice is fully capable of such a simple procedure. Now please step away, you are casting the wound in shadow.”

I really hoped the knife hadn’t cut into the cavity. Muscles I could stitch, but I still hadn’t mastered the song of duplication. That was a fifth-grade spell and I’d barely gotten proficient in the first grade. The upside was that my worries of finding Obsidian shards stuck within the flesh had been wrong. This ugly murdering-tool was not made from Obsidian. I struck it again and again with the metal box, under various angles but it just wouldn’t crack, flake or snap. Even the tip proved resilient. All I got for my trouble was an aching arm and lots of dents and little cuts in the box. This thing was resilient and sharp. I had to resort to using it as it was in a very clumsy grip.
“This had better not be a total knee-puree in there.” I muttered as I opened up the first knee.
“And I’d better not drop it or I’ll be scooping up my fingers.”

It truly was a simple procedure. First prepare all the needed tools including the needle. Then cut into the joint, making sure to avoid bloodvessels, muscles, tendons and nerves and the synovial cavity itself. Use the clamps to spread the separated tissues then make the second incision. Extract the fluid and finally use a few stitches and some drops of vital essence to close both incisions. It didn’t take too long for me to obtain and present the liquid master Zelrith required. Unlike me, he did not require stitching or a potion to repair the far more extensive damage to his synovial cavity. He just mixed the song of mind’s hand with a song of restoration. In mere seconds he’d done what took me minutes.

“Observe closely. I will now show you how to reassemble the bone. A good insight into the original structure and how it has been separated into the individual pieces is critical. Normally you would use the glue but in this case the damage is too severe. We are no longer speaking of a mere fracture, but of a thorough pulverization. Instead I shall realign the major pieces, remove all fragments that are too small and use magic to regrow the bone. More magic will be required afterwards to rebuild the bloodvessels and neural structure. I judge the required skill for this procedure to be fourth grade. Prepare three vials of mindclear.”
I took and mixed the ingredients for him. Master Zelthir preferred his mindclear fresh, very fresh. There was however one question that needed asking. I was not master Zelthir.
“Master, what if I don’t possess the means for such extensive restorative magicks?” I questioned and he gave me a simple but foreboding answer.
“Then pray the injury you find is a simple one that can be repaired with mundane surgery.”

I hadn’t prayed, but nevertheless the Aedra answered. This wound was clean. Ridiculously clean. Two incisions, neatly avoiding all the major points and doing minimal damage for maximum effect. And all with this clunker of a knife even! I certainly couldn’t have done this, even with a proper scalpel. Master Zelthir might have, but not in a fight. This had been done in a fight, right? My head began to pound again, warning me to think of something else.
“So it’s minor? Then just give me the potion and let’s call it a day. Just get that knife away from me. I don’t like strangers with knives.” Hieronymous said and I was in full agreement. About knives at least. His obsession with alchemical cures was a different matter, though understandable. I remembered my first encounter with potions. I’d been just as amazed at the idea as he was.

“Master?”I said, looking at the poor frog on my tray. One leg had the skin cut away from hip to toes. The drat thing looked positively miserable, tied down and sedated. I tried again, thinking of the words that weren’t words. The sounds behind the sounds, the door just beyond this world. But the words were wrong, the sounds lacked harmony and the key didn’t fit the lock. The cut remained and my head begun to throb. I felt tears well up behind my eyes and wanted to try one more time. But Zelthir said I should stop when my head started feeling funny. He said it would bring back my illness. I didn’t want that, days weren’t meant to be spent in bed with a damp towel on my face. That would be boring.
“I can’t do this.” I sobbed. Maybe the master would help the poor little frog. Like he’d helped Su’s paperbug.

“Explain.” The tall man asked in an even tone. He didn’t even look up from the book he was reading. How could he know what needed to be done if he didn’t look? I didn’t like this teacher. He was…not mean but not nice either. He was weird. And what kind of question was that? Explain? Explain what, and where should I begin?

“Well…I just can’t. I mean, how do I heal a frog if I can’t even heal myself? The song won’t sing.” I stammered. Zelthir looked up and I yelped. He was going to use the full title, wasn’t he? He did that when I dropped his pack, when I stepped on his foot or that time I put dirt in his tea. I didn’t like it when he used the full title.
“Apprentice Healer first grade, you are almost twenty years old now and have been my apprentice for nearly a year. On average, students of the magical art of restoration master the basic song of self-regeneration at the end of their third month and they’re less than a decade old.” He pointed out, the same thing he’d been saying since that time I tripped and hurt my knee. He wouldn’t put the ribbon on it, just said I should sing a song.
“That is just an average….I’m not average. I swear I haven’t been slacking off! I practiced, practiced and practiced till my head burst!”I answered, same thing as always. Songs don’t fix knees, everyone knows that. Well his do, but he is Zelthir, that’s why he can and I can’t. But he said I should sing, so I sang. Then my head got funny so I snuck out some of the water he drinks when singing. Like, eight or ten bottles. My head got funnier.

Zelthir already opened his book again. Maybe he was tired of having to say the same thing every time. But it wasn’t my fault I can’t sing! I’m not Zelthir.
“And then you overdosed on mindclear. I remember. You desire to give up?” He muttered. I’d said I wanted to stop last time, then he’d used the full title, told me to clean his biggifying glass and try again. He didn’t like it when I want to stop. Maybe I should say no this time.
“No. But I was just wondering…are there no alternatives to spellsong?”What do the people that are not Zelthir do? They can’t sing, so what? Do they get together at the centre of town and ask Zelthir to sing for them? That would be embarrassing.

Zelthir looked sharply at me and the frog. Then he put the book away, stood up, took the knife from my hand and pushed me down in his chair. Now he was really tall. Maybe he could touch the ceiling if he stretched? A sharp snap of his fingers in front of my nose told me I should pay really good attention to what he was going to say now.
“And why would there be? Led by an intelligent mind, is the art of restoration not the most powerful and versatile tool of the healer?” He didn’t say anything! That was just more asking! Well if Zelthir wanted to play the asking-game, I would play along. It was better than cutting up poor little froggies.
“But what if the healer does not possess the vitality to use the songs?” I asked and tried snapping at his nose. I couldn’t reach. Maybe if I jumped, but he wouldn’t like it if I jumped. Zelthir nodded, happy that he could play an asking-game with me. If he liked it so much, why did he make me cut up frogs all the time and try singing to them?

“Then there is mindclear.” The funny water? I didn’t like the funny water. Wait, that wasn’t a question! Did it mean I won? I started to giggle but he snapped his fingers in front of my nose again.
“Pay attention, Apprentice Healer. This is not a game we are playing. Continue presenting your arguments.”He warned me. Not the full title? Yippee.
“Well, okay. What if there is no mindclear? Those bottles are tiny.”I asked him next and spread my fingers to show just how tiny they were. Like, as big as two of my thumbs standing on top of each other.
“Five bottles are enough for any one patient.”I frowned. That was cheating. I said no mindclear, and he just goes adding more bottles. I thought for a moment on how I could beat that. He wouldn’t let me remove the bottles or make them smaller. So more patients then?
“What if you have a dozen injured? Would you pick only one, let the others cry? I mean, die.” I stumbled at the end. Crying wouldn’t scare him. He didn’t mind that I cried when I hurt my knee. Said it was a natural response. Nah, I needed something scarier. Zelthir got down on his knees to look me right in the eye. He looked hurt! He never looked hurt! Was he going to use the full title, or cry? Please don’t do that! He didn’t, but the whisper was just as bad.
“If it comes to that, I would. Pray it never shall. Pray you never shall.”

Quickly, as if he wanted to hide his tears. He fumbled around in his bag and took out a little bottle. Not the funny water. This bottle was pink and swirly. He placed it in my hand and waved at the little frog.
“This here is vital essence in a liquid based solution. Use it on the wound.”He said. Pour it on the poor froggie’s leg? Ok. This was much easier than singing.
“This works just as good as the song?”I asked and removed the plug. There was a rubber thingy beneath there, with a tiny hole in it. Zelthir looked at me trying to shake it out through the thingy and picked up his bag.
“No. Alchemical cures have their place, but they’re mindless and cumbersome to use. You will consider this method only as a crutch, nothing more. I shall provide the recipe and have a basic alchemical lab sent for you. You will practice and master creation of this cure before our next meeting at the end of the week.” He said.
“I will, master.”I answered without looking. This tiny hole was annoying! I tore it off with my finger. Now I could really pour it on. More was better, right?
“Next time, ask sooner. Don’t ignore your limits.”With those words, he was gone. Not even saying goodbye. Typical Zelthir.

Yes, potions had been an incredible eye-opener in two ways. As an alternative, or crutch, for magic. And for how master Zelthir worked. He had been waiting for me to stop banging my head against the wall at his commands and start asking questions. Hieronymous’ awe for a little concoction was just like my own. The only difference was that I’d been a child and he was a man firmly in his second century. He shouldn’t be this naïve. Potions had limits, big ones.

“Master!”I yelled, rushing him in the hallway. He hadn’t even gotten time to hang up his coat.
“What is it, apprentice? And remove the perfume-disks. It is not proper for a healer.” He asked me. I shoved the slimy animal into his face, or as near as I could get anyway.
“My frog! It’s leg is sick!”I cried and indeed the little froggie was even more miserable as it had been when I cut it open. The leg had become oddly blackish, swollen and leaked stinking stuff. Zelthir took one look at it and pushed me aside.
“You failed.”He merely remarked and walked to the little room he always used, leaving me behind.

I ran after him and stomped my foot down hard. That should get his attention.
“I didn’t! I did nothing wrong! I used the vital extent like you said.”I squeeled. Zelthir stopped in the door-opening so suddenly I bumped into him and dropped poor froggie on the floor.
“You disagree with my judgement, Apprentice Healer first grade?” He asked, using the bad words. I shut up right away. He looked at me, I looked at my toes, and the frog that squirmed on them.
“No…I didn’t mean, that is…What is my mistake?”I finally mumbled when I couldn’t handle his staring anymore.
“You used too much. The only difference between a cure and a poison is the dosage.”

Looking back, I could laugh. How frustrated master Zelthir must have been, being forced to deal with the young me. I was just so impulsive, just so...stupid. I shook my head and got to work on reconnecting the severed tissues in Hieronymous leg. I had to stop for a moment when I started shaking. I’d seen the knife again and begun thinking questions.
“I’ve got to stay focussed. Come on Latta, your fingers are mimicking his knee now. A healer should never let her hands do that. You’re only imagining what’s under them and when you start to rely on your preconceptions instead of your eyes, you’re going to fix him all wrong.” I told myself and pushed the knife away, out of sight. I wouldn’t need it again till I opened up the other knee. Best to keep it away till then.

“Are you done?” Hieronymous asked from time to time. The first few times I said no, at the fifth I said yes.
“Once I apply the potion, I’ll be done with the first knee. You can then try moving it before I start on the second.” I said as I picked up the remarkably big vial. Was this cure meant to be drunk?
“Rellie? Great, than lets me drink it. Mai headuh feelz thick from jhe alkhol.” On second thought, maybe I shouldn’t have fed him the liquor as a primitive anaesthetic. He was nearly incomprehensible now. I uncorked the bottle and sniffed it. Different, probably boiled a tad too long, but definitely vital essence.
“No, I prefer direct application to the wound. It is quicker and more efficient. If you drink it first goes through the stomach and then spreads out over the entire body. It would just end up diluted and slow. And I’m not confident in your bladdercontrol at the moment.” I explained to the good guardsman and immediately pulled a long hair out from my scalp. It stung, but without the rubber dripper I needed to improvise somehow. Using the hair I could gently guide it down onto the wound one drop at a time. Then I’d take out the stitches, drip some more, stitch up the skin and drop it on the edges. After that, I’d have to start all over again on the other leg. I rubbed my burning eyes. This was going to be a long night.

Posted by: jack cloudy Feb 9 2012, 03:49 PM

So I just wanted to make a little announcement. My dad has been going back and forth between the hospital for the last few weeks and today we heard that he has abdominal cancer and a brain-tumor. While I'll try to keep a steady pace of one/two update a week, I may fall behind from time to time.

Posted by: mALX Feb 9 2012, 05:58 PM

QUOTE(jack cloudy @ Feb 9 2012, 09:49 AM)

Posted by: jack cloudy Feb 12 2012, 10:39 PM

Thanks. I appreciate it.

As for the story, I'm opening a new chapter. I think this should be the last chapter in what I now realize is just a prologue. Anyway, after this chapter is over, Angoril/Mezanin can finally arrive at Kvatch and we can get on with the main plot.

Chapter 6: The Tower

I had no recollection of dressing for bed or being offered a place to sleep for that matter. Yet I found myself lying in the softest bed since I’d come to Tamriel, a situation I wasn’t in any hurry to remedy. The sun wasn’t up yet and all was blissfully quiet. No singing birds, no chirping crickets, none of the clamor of noisy streets. The air was a bit dry but nicely warm and none of the odours of a crowded city assailed my nose. It was so peaceful I dozed off again. It was probably a few hours later that I felt well rested enough to wake up properly and take in my surroundings.

The first thing I thought was that I definitely hadn’t expected the kind of decorations and furniture I saw here. The lovely Argonian was wealthy and didn’t mind showing it, but he had shown good taste and a certain simplicity. This room however was the epitome of overblown luxury and ego-boosting. Life-sized portraits of kings adorned each wall, obscuring the jade tiles behind them. Small statues of the same, made from gold, silver and gleaming white stone were arrayed on the various elegant cupboards, dressers, even on a rack overhanging my soft and fluffy bed. Since they were all dressed similarly in long robes, wore the same crown and jewellery, had the same sceptre in their hands and often held the same pose, I first thought all those statues depicted the same person. Then I saw the two standing watch over the door. Those two were huge. One rivalled any Altmer I’d seen, the other was a head beyond even that. They were dressed differently as well. The shortest one carried the robes, the four-sided amulet and crown that were so dominant among the little ones, much like a king would be. The taller of the two looked more like a warrior, which the sculptor had masterfully depicted in each interlinked ring of his armour, in the curve of bare muscle, the cape of an animal’s fur, even in the battered axe he leaned on, as if he’d just finished a great battle. But just like the king, the warrior wore the same crown and amulet, which both looked humorously out of place on the giant barbarian.

“And who might you be, oh great murderer that stands amongst kings?” I asked the statue, only half in jest. A golden plaque lay before the axehead, shaped like a piece of armour torn from an unseen foe during the fight. I leaned forward to read the words aloud.
“This statue was created in the memory of Tiber Septim, great ruler and even greater knight he who united all Tamriel under the rightfull banner of the Dragonborn, subjugating god and mortal alike with his just rule. 2E 854 - 3E 38.” A brutal warlord in other words and an ancestor of Uriel Septim who was depicted by the smaller statue, or so its plaque said. I couldn’t find the resemblance myself. The two statues looked like they could be father and son, but the Uriel I’d seen was a far cry from the strong yet dignified man hewn from marble.

“It’s none of my interest to whom the Lord Emperor traces his ancestry or to what he attributes his rule. Even that this brute decided he was important enough to justify calling a new year zero is meaningless. All that matters is that Uriel Septim is the Lord Emperor and therefore the one grandfather wants me to negotiate with.” I told myself and walked back to the bed to see where I’d left my clothes. I still couldn’t remember entering this room last night. Had I really been that tired? And where had I left my clothes? They weren’t in a neatly folded bundle at the footend like they should. I tried the walk-in closets, all four of them. But nothing there either, nothing belonging to me at least. There were plenty of clothes to choose from and remarkably, they were all dresses with a distinctly feminine cut. I took the hint and got garbed as one my station should, in a piece of green sparkling with little silver beads depicting the morningdew. I also saw a jewellery-box on a small glass table but didn’t open it. There were limits to the possessions I could lay my hand on as a guest, even if the gesture was appreciated.

Now actually presentable, though the lack of jewellery did sting a little, I decided to find my way back to the living room and greet sir Grey. And maybe see if Sorian had woken up already. He was probably in a similar guestroom, just with more masculine clothes inhabiting his closets. With a slight shiver I walked between the statues of king and beast to the door they guarded. This room really looked like it belonged to someone else. It showed me how wrong I’d been in my assessment of the scaled man’s tastes. My hand gripped the doorknob, twisted and pulled. The door didn’t budge. I tried to push, but it still didn’t move. I tried both again, with more effort. Finally I threw my full weight at the dark wood, but still the exit barred my way. I came to the distressing realization that the door was securely looked. But why? Perhaps I’d told sir Grey that I really didn’t want to be disturbed? I tried thinking back but last night’s end remained in a fog. Still, I wouldn’t be surprised if I had. But was that any reason to lock the door? Merely telling his servants that I wasn’t to be woken should have sufficed.

I made one last attempt just to make sure I hadn’t imagined it. When the door refused to grant me passage, I shrugged and knocked softly, then rapped and called out. Finally I hammered with both fists, kicked and yelled.
“Hello! Is there anyone here! The door is locked and I can’t get out!”

No one answered.

Posted by: mALX Feb 12 2012, 10:52 PM

I'm still not caught up, but will get there. My free time has been limited lately, but I'm reading every chance I get.

Posted by: jack cloudy Feb 20 2012, 08:51 PM

Take your time, there's no rush. I'm slowly plodding along and think I'll be adding a list of personages to the first post. Latta would need an entire section on her own with all the people she keeps mentioning.



Chapter 6.2


Hands stinging and throat hoarse, I gave the cursed portal a last kick and turned my back to the two marble lords. It was blatantly obvious that my latest imprisonment wasn’t a mistake. This room was exactly what it seemed. Another cage, only more comfortable and with more propaganda than the last one. But the question of why? remained. What could that Argonian possibly achieve by sealing me in his house? Was he actually an enemy of mine? Another ally of the vampire? No, that wasn’t it. If he had been, he would have summoned the ageless one during the night and I wouldn’t be standing here thinking about it.

So he wasn’t in league with the vampire which I supposed was a good thing, though it did nothing to change my current conundrum. I was still stuck between these four walls and had to get out. Sorian was no help either. Probably either sent away with a weak excuse, trapped himself or worse. I was on my own now, with no tools and precious little understanding.
“Think, Latta. What would Levvelyn of Glasshorn do?” I asked myself, turning to one of the most famous and popular heroes among the young Maormer. It was a shame he only existed on paper, really.
“He would bleach an appropriate outfit with some chalk, then remove one of the statues and take its place. When the guard comes in, he clubs him over the head with the jewellery box, takes his weapon and goes on a big unstoppable heroic rampage through the evil lord’s fortress, ending up on the roof where he kicks the vile man over the edge.” Ok, that wasn’t going to work for me. I was too short and feminine to be a fake Emperor, nevermind that big beast Tiber. As for hitting people, I would probably pass out from fear first. All of Mettildi´s lessons at brawling and stafwielding had done little to change my timidity.

“So you’re no Levvelyn. Then how about this, Latta? What would the fair princess Irrillys do?” I asked myself next. If I couldn’t follow in the footpaths of a hero, then how about his beautiful and refined wife? I had a lot more in common with her. She was after all an offshoot of my own family, albeit a fictional one.
“She would sit around doing nothing but pine over the candle or hourglass that tells her how much time is left till she’s sacrificed by the evil one. Ok, and sometimes she cries. Face it, Latta! She’s just a damsel in distress, a plot-tool! Stop thinking what others would do and just start making your own plan!”

Sucking on my knuckles, I paced back across the immense chamber. The door was no use to me. By the time someone opened it for me, it would be too late for me. Then there were two options left for me. The first one was to undress and hide in a corner, then slip away Levvellyn-style, just without the violence. The other and more attractive one was to escape down the window. I hadn’t done so since my seventh birthday but it was like swimming. Do it once and you’ll never forget. Even if it was locked, I could just break the glass. Before I started smashing things with the jewellery box however, I first tried the handle. The window swung outwards on well-oiled hinges and I silently gave a humble offer of thanks to whatever deity might be listening. And a less humble taunt towards sir Grey and his accomplices.
“Hah! You didn’t think this one through, not-serpent. You should have locked me up in a cell instead of a guestroom.” A grin broke on my face as I sticked it out through the opening.

Vertigo rushed me like a wave and I scrambled back to the safety of the room and its delightfully solid floor. I didn’t consider myself to be afraid of heights, but there were heights and then there were HEIGHTS. This one belonged firmly to the latter category. Just that short glance told me that my climbing plan was no better than the one with the door, not without a very long rope.
“Well, at least you now know where you are. That counts as progress.” I told myself as I brushed myself off and walked back to the open window. There could be only one building in this city that made the fortifications around it look like the pebblewalls we made when we were little toddlers. The central spire. Looking back at everything I’d seen, I should have realized sooner. This single chamber was grander and more expensive than sir Grey’s living-room. And then all the statues and portraits. This was a guestroom at the palace itself, with the dual task of both making visitors comfortable and intimidating them with the sheer number of emperors in the royal family´s line. The Argonian had obviously held his end of the bargain, though I couldn’t remember. I was in the Emperor’s tower and if the man himself was anywhere within these walls, I might just find a way to him.

This changed my entire situation. I wasn’t a prisoner, if that definition was handled loosely. After the attack by that monster summoner and his minions, some wariness regarding me or anyone with the goal of speaking Uriel Septim was perfectly reasonable. That was what grandfather would do. If someone was braindead enough to try to harm him. But it was still annoying now that it happened to me. Still, this was only a temporary inconvenience, one I could endure. Once whoever performed the interviews had prepared himself, I would be let out, made to answer a few questions and finally get a yes or no on seeing the elder. And answering those questions wouldn’t be a problem. How hard could it be for me to prove who I really was? I even had the documents to prove it!
“Oh wait, those are still at the prison. Maybe I can ask the questioner’s aide to have them retrieved for me.”

With my hands this time gripping the frame, I leaned out again. I quashed the feelings of falling and looked around. The sky was a deep blue, the city stretched below bleached white as bones. Barely any shadows though, even the one cast by the spire didn’t reach further than a street or two. Time I estimated to be somewhere just before or just after noon. In any case later than I’d thought. By this time I expected to be back at Aelwin’s with the scales he needed, or at least on my way there. I leaned out further in the hope of finding a recognizable landmark so I could see on which side of the tower I was.
“I wouldn’t try that if I were you. Ever since the time an assassin levitated through the window, we’ve put barriers into place. There’s no getting in or out that way.” Someone behind me said. That hadn’t been a long wait.

Posted by: jack cloudy Feb 29 2012, 07:11 PM

Chapter 6.3


I let my hand brush against the barrier as I turned around. It was like punching a pillow. So soft yet impassable it was disgusting.
“I was admiring the view. From a point of view this far above the ground, the landscape is breathtaking. It is as if one can see the whole world from here.” I told the man by way of excuse. There was no reason for me to tell him the truth and plenty of reasons not to. And just who was this man? Though his posture was the humble toe-examining and handfolded one of a mild servant, his garb was not. From head to toe he hid himself within an old brown robe that looked to be stitched together from the remains of even older robes. Not the kind of attire I’d expected from even the lowest page in this place. I’d expected fluorescent membranes or metal chains, clothes that would rival a noble’s in expense.

The man hadn’t answered to my remark beyond a slight nod of acknowledgement that was almost undetectable beneath the ragged hood. I controlled the urge to frown or sniff. Did I merit this little consideration that they’d send a dungshoveler instead of the head servant or any of his seconds?
“But I forget my manners. I am the lady Maorlatta Orgnum. May I be of service to you?” I said after a moment’s silence and bowed. My hope was that by giving him some information regarding myself, this slight man would be obligated to give his. There was no need to give him everything though, not till I knew exactly who he was and where he stood in the local hierarchy. Again the hood dipped for a moment but then the rattling voice spoke again.
“A pleasure, truly. I am Father Jauffre, humble servant in the Order of holy Talos. Pray forgive my intrusion, Child. The long and strenuous journey has eroded my heart and tongue. It was not my intention to disturb you like a thief in the night.”

This time I couldn’t stop the frown, or the sniff. He used familial terms to denote his social placement in which father was superior to child. That was unusual and ill-mannered in itself, not to mention the journey he’d mentioned. I could smell it on him, the road, strange pollen and the thick odour of animal. But who was this Talos? I’d never heard that name spoken before. Was it a god, a saint, a prophet? Did I know Talos under a different name perhaps? The lightness with which this priest gave his patron’s name suggested that it was supposed to be one of those things everyone knows. But more important than any of that, why did they send a priest in the first place?! I had come here to talk politics, not religion!
“There is nothing that needs to be forgiven…Father. But please speak the reason for your presence.” Adressing him as if he’d gifted me to my mother’s womb left a foul taste in my mouth. One did not address those that did not share blood as if they did. But I had the feeling that this was exactly what religious orders did here. I would give him the title, for now. At least he was trying to be polite.

“You are much too kind, Child. I would like to invite you to share a meal with me. It has come to my ears that you have not yet partaken of the needs of the flesh. I too have not yet had the opportunity.” The priest answered me with a smile. I thought his choice of words was a bit awkward but as long as he was offering a meal and only a meal, I wouldn’t say no. What better opportunity to probe him for why he really was here than during a late breakfast? Because he certainly hadn’t come just to get someone to share his meal with. That would be too much of a coincidence, especially with the door that opened for him but hadn’t opened for me. No, a mere priest seeking companionship, this man was not.
“It would be my pleasure, Father.”

He led me out through winding corridors, up stairs, passed doors and the occasional guard in full armor and with sword in hand. No servants. I tried to get a conversation going but Jauffre remained silent. His head sweeped from side to side to pierce even the slightest shadow with his eyes. His hands remained tucked in their sleeves, except for when he showed something to each guard we passed. I couldn’t see what it was, but I assumed it to be some form of identification. Free-roaming on this level of the tower was clearly discouraged.

At the end we ascended one last spiralling staircase and went through the last door. I stopped at the doorstep and held up a hand to shield my eyes from the blazing sun overhead. We were on the roof now, in a miniature jungle. The air was thick and humid, water flowed around my feet through an elaborate web of canals set between the tiled floor. On all sides were trees with leaves larger than a man, orchidea, buzzing insects and colourful birds. It was so much like home it brought tears to my eyes. I even recognized some of the vegetation and animals I saw.

“Quite a nice place isn’t it? I thought you might like a change of scenery into something more familiar. Once all Cyrodiil was like this. Before the farmers came, before the Alessian liberation. Now it has been reduced to this. A lost fragment trapped under a glass ceiling.” Jauffre spoke as he walked to a clearing in the middle of the garden. I barely listened to his comments on various aspects of this place, being more caught up on a single word he’d said. Familiar. It was as if he knew where I was from. Though his goal had been to comfort me, he achieved the opposite.

There was a table in the clearing long enough to seat a dozen. Today it was just us two. Two steaming plates were placed opposite each other but I did not see who had placed them. Did the servants here follow the ideal of never being noticed and never wanted? Or was this more special trickery just to isolate us and get me to trust him? If it was, I couldn’t deny its effectiveness. Jauffre was playing the role of the perfect gentleman, pulling back seat for me and waiting till I’d settled before walking along the long end of the table till he returned to the place opposite me. He said a prayer over his bacon and scrambled eggs and began to eat while making pleasant small-talk. It was only his continuing patronization that kept me from dropping my guard.

“My rather hasty travels left me unable to read up on the news and I have not yet found the time to remedy this. Tell me Child, are you aware of the latest events surrounding our Emperor? Being in the palace as we are, I’d think it rather important not to be ignorant on this particular subject.” He said when my plate was nearly emptied. I chewed slowly to give myself time to think before answering. The priest had not gotten here by random chance so I should be even more cautious now. The urge to just throw out how I’d met him in a prison and how we fled underwater was too strong to ignore but that was precisely the kind of answer I couldn’t give. I swallowed and chose my words carefully.
“I was told the Lord Emperor is ill, but I heard nothing specific regarding this illness.” The truth, in a way. I quickly cut off another bit of bacon so I had something to chew on again. As it turned out, I really needed that reprive.
“Of course, that is the word on the streets. But what have you seen?” Jauffre leaned back with a smile that could almost be described as smug. Suddenly, I felt an intense interest with my reflection on his glistening skull. He knew everything.
“You understand now that there is a lot we have to discuss and a lot I have to ask. So I thought it would be only fair if before that, is there anything you would like to ask me?” The man added, throwing me an obvious fruit to put me at ease again. It didn’t really work.

One part of me wanted to tell him everything, explain who I am, what had happened and what I wanted to accomplish. The second part warned me that since the interrogator had come under disguise and with tricks, he should not be trusted. What if he only wanted to milk me dry for information? What if he wanted to know the route home, have me draw a map for an invasion? The third part considered his offer seriously, then accepted it. I really had no choice here. How was I to leave here? I couldn’t exactly flow into one of those little canals and follow the pipelines down. Might as well get as much out of this as I could and hope the second part was wrong.

So what should I ask him, assuming I got only one chance? Should I ask him what was going to happen to me?
“No, I’ll find that out eventually.”
What about friends? Maybe I could ask him to take care of Aelwin’s favour for me. But that assumed he was a gentle person. If he wasn’t gentle to me, then why would he bother helping that poor old man? I shook my head, chewing maybe once a minute. I figured I could ask him about Sorian. What had happened to the young Redguard? Was he here somewhere as well, in a dungeon, dead? I decided to ask when a second option occurred to me, one that I preferred in the end. Sorian could take care of himself. He’d probably ran away.
“I met a man, Hieronymous Lex. He was injured and I treated him. Could you ask the Housemaster to send out a messenger and inquire to his health? I would really appreciate it if you did, sir.” I finally replied. Jauffre’s answer was quick, suggesting that he either had anticipated my answer or didn’t really care.
“The Guard-Captain? Quite the famous character, that man. Yes, of course. I will have someone look into it.”

I shoved my plate aside. Now the real questioning would start. Words I could keep back but I hoped I wouldn’t give everything away through my skin.
“Thank you. Now regarding the matters you wish to discuss. I will try to answer but there are a few things I am obligated to remain silent about. Please understand that I take no pleasure in cloaking the truth with silence. A man I respect above all requested my discretion and so I shall heed his desires.” Even through torture, hopefully.

Jauffre plucked a flower from the bush behind him and played with it. Though he didn’t look at me, I knew his attention was still fully directed at me.
“I understand. I will start with the basics and work my way down. From where do you hail?” Was the first thing he asked me. Somewhat startled, I nearly blurted out the real answer. Only by biting down on my tongue could I prevent my treachery.
“I hail from the south. That is all I am at liberty to reveal, I am afraid.” I muttered with a grimace. That really hurt.
“From the south it is. Your accent and pronunciation tells me much. You are not native to this province, are you?” Jauffre asked as tore a petal from his flower and let it float down one of the canals.
“No, I am not.” Obviously. I’d been walking around gawking at everything as if I’d never seen the sun before.
“Yes, I can hear that Cyrodiilic is neither your first nor your second tongue. Perhaps a distant third. You hail neither from Valenwood nor Elsweyr. Closer towards the Summerset Isles, perhaps?” To this I could answer with nothing but silence. My answers were as short as I could get them, but the guesses he based on them were disturbingly accurate.

Jauffre shrugged and sent a second petal down the same stream.
“Alright, I think I’ve hit the limit on that question. Next angle, family. How many relatives do you have? How many siblings do you have. Who raised you?” I could see what he was trying to do. He wanted to know the social and political structure. Well, that was definitely none of his business. Besides, I’d never paid much attention to it. Grandfather at the top, everything else below, me at the bottom. Simple.
“I don’t see how this is relevant.” I told him.
“An only child, perhaps? No?” The man tried but like before I rebuked him with silence. He joined me in it as he thought up his next question. Overhead the sun was blotted out by a giant flying flea. A basket dangled from its belly amidst a cluster of tentacles. One appendage reached into the basket, pulled out a napkin and wiped a stain off the dome. Then it floated away. I watched it go and completely forgot about Jauffre for the moment. I’d never seen something surreal like that before. Then Jauffre spoke and my head snapped back.

“Something more relevant then, when did you arrive in this city? The first time, I mean.” That he knew this wasn’t my first visit didn’t surprise me. Everything he’d done and said so far indicated he knew things he shouldn’t.
“Almost a week ago, I think. I remember that it was raining that night.” The rain had almost been as severe as during the raining season. Thick goblets falling from the sky and robbing the body of warmth wherever they struck. Su’s favourite weather, my least favourite.
“A week ago, yes. By ship. You and who else?” Jauffre once again elaborated my answer with an eerily accurate guess. How did he know? I hadn’t mentioned anything about a ship. Also worrying was his interest in any other mer that came to Tamriel. The plan had been for five of us to make landfall, only counting the mer. In the end, only Su and I got off, then were separated. The others didn’t come. They just lifted anchor and went home.
“When I get back, grandfather and I are going to have a very long talk. And I won’t neglect to mention that!”

I ground my teeth, struggling between finding a satisfying answer and plain hatred for the two-faced bastards that brought me here. Finally I threw up my hands and told him the one thing I’d been itching to say all the time.
“I had documents for this. Read those instead of trying to extract my brain through my nose. It would be faster and less painful.” The anger slid off him like water, leaving no impression. He just gave me that vague smile of his and answered as if giving directions to the nearest carpenter.
“I know. Your papers were already brought to an associate at the night of your incarceration. They’ve been processed and found to be genuine.”

I was speechless. He had not just been making mere guesses. He’d known everything, read it days ago. He knew my name, where I was from and who I represented. He knew what I’d come to do, the demands I was to make. He knew it all and didn’t care. As his smile grew into an evil smirk, I realized he was actually enjoying himself. He enjoyed playing with my head and he savored the moment where I realized all this.
“Right now you want to tell me to get to the point and stop screwing with you. Ah no, wrong word choice. I forgot you had a noble upbringing. It’s such an easy mistake to make with you smelling like a tomb.” Jauffre whispered. From within the bush he retrieved a thick bundle of paper and writing tools.
“Consider your wish granted. I will cease my deceptive manners. Tell me what happened during your stay at the Imperial Prison. Everything. If a bug bit your toe, I want to know.”

He was an old man fully lacking the virtues his age should have gifted him. Even if he did serve lord Uriel Septim, his discourtesy had freed me of the obligation to aid him. Under any other circumstances I would have used my youth at this point to make my escape, but the knowledge of those armed and all too alert guards chained down that impulse. They’d probably just drag me back, if I were lucky and they took the time to check my face. So I told him, slowly and with many interruptions where the man would ask for more details or wrote something down. What choice did I have?
I told him of how I landed in the prison in the first place, picked up by a patrolling guardsman in the dead of the night. I told him of my reassignment from the first cell to one closer to the entrance and the other prisoners there. He didn’t show much interest in the ashen-skinned mer, but the Altmer received more than his share of the attention. He seemed especially interested in my theory that the tall sorcerer had been waiting for the Emperor.

My story continued beyond the point where I left the Emperor, his bodyguards and the Altmer. Much quicker now, I told him of Delmar and how I met Sorian. Then he was done and sealed his notes in an envelope.
“What happens to me now?” I asked him.
“Now you pack your bags. I have to go on a journey and you are coming with me.”




OOC: Three things
1: Yes, that is my pathetic attempt at reconciling jungle Cyrodiil with generic vaguely north-european hills Cyrodiil. While Bethesda probably sees the top of the tower as an empty rock platform for brooding Emperors, I prefer my idea of the garden. The dome is there to satisfy the requirement for a different atmosphere and keep stuff from freezing to death.
2: Yes, that was a window-cleaning Netch.
3: It was not my intention to depict Jauffre as evil really, but I guess that's how he turned out.

Posted by: jack cloudy Mar 6 2012, 08:01 PM

Ok, a really short part now. Actually, I decided to edit it on to the last post. It was too short to justify being its own update. I'm not feeling like stretching this part out even more as everyone is probably sick by now of the endless talking and nothing happening. Seriously, what happened to the times where I used dialogue as the thing that separates the fight-scenes?

And the second thread is http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=5013

Posted by: mALX Mar 21 2012, 01:55 AM

Still not caught up, but had to stop and say - your ability to manipulate a narrative has grown tremendously since the beginning of this story. These last chapters I've read are outstandingly done, breathtaking in their subtlety while making an impact. Awesome Write! Still catching up !! (haven't had much free time the last few weeks).

Posted by: mALX Oct 28 2012, 08:03 AM

I wanted to refresh myself on the beginning of your story again - your synopsis on Part 2 is succinct for plot - but I hope none of your readers rely solely on it, they will miss so much by not reading Part 1 too! What you have done with this story is so much more than the synopsis can show!

This is a hugely fun read right from the start, but it gets better with each chapter. Your writing plays with the readers mind, teases and intrigues it in ways I have never seen another writer do. You are a master at manipulating dialogue to move the story, and I absolutely LOVE your take on the tutorial dungeon - love that you created a whole story inside and shaped personalities to suit you so we have to look at each deeply and make sure what their role is in YOUR story - that is creativity at its best!

Everytime I've gotten free time and come back to this story I've had to refresh myself by re-reading the beginning - and each time found something I missed last time. Like one of those really great movies you watch over and over again and each time say, "Hey, I didn't notice that before!" (like the Bosmer with the mouse to her face - urk, I'm picturing it being drained of blood when she got done sniffing it, lol)

Another thing I missed all those times I read this, the Emperor being the queen on the chessboard. In my story I had Akatosh and Dagon as the two queens on the chessboard.

You have so much great interesting details that set the tone and scene - one example is the wooden greased door hinges - that is Awesome, and instantly makes the reader start wondering about who owns that shack - HUGE touch!

LOVE the bits of humor you weave into dialogue and inner thoughts - always hits as a surprise when I find them, even knowing that you do it throughout - your timing is perfect on them!

Latta and the Angoril are both hugely interesting characters, you captured mystery and enigma in both. At first I thought you were world-building with Latta, but was amazed to find it was Lore I had never come across before - you are doing an awesome job of bringing her race to life! - LOVE your writing!

Latta's first Khajiit sighting was fantasticly written! You not only caught all Latta's unique attributes and thoughts, but captured Khajiit mannerisms and her reactions to them perfectly - LOVED that scene!

Hey, I lived for two years across the German border (a little south) of your university (in Prum).

Your description of the Dark Brotherhood was Awesome! Really love the slant you put on them in your story, so much more feared than in the game - as it should have been.

Your cliffhangers are spectacular, really glad I'm reading it all at once and not having to wait a week or more to find out what happens on those chapters!

I am absolutely loving the way your mind works! - Awesome Write!

These chapters written in 2012 show a huge growth in your writing and focus, you just keep improving through this story! You stepped it up, the story is becoming much more powerful here! Fascinating story!

Your character development of Latta is really well done. As she becomes accustomed to the strange new world she finds herself in, her confidence is growing and her capabilities really coming through.

This story got better and better, but all the 2012 ones you really started bringing it - Awesome Write!

Jauffre playing with the flower - you floored me with that! These little details are magic, and immediately get the readers mind into that character and start looking at his motivations - you have a gift with these!

I have (finally) finished Part 1 - HUGE Write! I am loving this story! Now to start on Part 2 (It is 3 am here, so it will be tomorrow, lol).

Again, I am so sorry for what you were going through with your father during these last chapters. I am currently going through that with my mother, and it is devastating.