The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl: City of Light, City of Magic Options

[OverrideB1]

I’ve been putting off going down into the Godsreach sewers for long enough. If it is true that there are Goblins down there, then it is a problem that needs to be dealt with. I doubt if either the Goddess or Fedris Hler would be very amused if I dallied for too long and the loathsome creatures somehow got into the streets. Accordingly, I spent a little time this morning repairing and sharpening my weapons and packing enough food, water, scrolls, and potions to last a couple of days. If my last foray into the sewers was anything to go by, I may be some time down there.

The heavy hatch that leads into the sewers is not far from Velas Manor and, as before, nobody took any notice when I lifted it and descended into the darkness. Of course, I now know the reason for this: it is common practice for poor visitors to use the sewer tunnels as a resting place instead of paying for a room. I consider myself extremely luck that I’ve not had to resort to that.

The burning torches threw grotesque shadows along the walls as I made my way along the ledge beside the dirty sewer water. There was a foul stench down here ~ fouler than the normal smell of the sewers I mean. A dirty, animal smell.

As I skirted a huge pile of fallen rock, I spotted a scrap of parchment. Lifting several stones revealed a sheet of it still clutched in the rotting remains of the poor unfortunate who’d brought it down here. It was headed ‘The Common Tongue’ and seemed to be a list of questions: an example of which was: “Anhar was an agent for Eastern Ebony merchants. There was an unfortunate scandal concerning improper contracts offered to Helseth as compensation for his assistance in obtaining Ebony import remits from the Imperial Board of Census and Excise. Luckily for Prince Helseth, this scandal blew over when no one could be found to testify. Is it just a coincidence that Anhar's health went into a steep decline, just as he was to testify before the Imperial magistrates? He died a natural death, according to the Imperial coroners. Convenient and timely, perhaps, but natural.” If this broadsheet were being passed around Mournhold it would explain why Tienius Delitian was hearing so many murmurings about the former king’s death. Folding the damming piece of parchment and tucking it into my pack, I continued on my way.

With a feral yell, the squat shape of a Goblin hurled itself from a side tunnel ~ clashing its crude sword against the buckler it carried. The creature was unskilled, even by my standards, and seemed to have no concept of defending itself. A quick, scything blow with the Wish soon silenced it forever. There was a problem, from somewhere ahead, in the dark, I could hear the dim clash of weapon on shield ~ no doubt more of the foul brood alerted by the one who’d attacked me. There was nothing I could do about it right now, other than advance with the utmost care and try to avoid running into large numbers of Goblins.

Of course, such a thing is easier said than done and it wasn’t long after killing the forward scout that I ran into a larger band. There were several foot soldiers and a much larger Goblin that seemed to be directing them. The larger Goblin was equipped with steel pauldrons and carried a small steel hand-axe instead of the crude bone weapons of its lesser brethren. The smaller, less organised Goblins fell easily enough ~ a well-paced fireball was all it took to scatter them sufficiently for me to take them on one-on-one. The hulking brute that led the band was a different matter.

The creature knew how to wield the axe; obviously well trained in the weapon it caused me several problems. Despite its great size and bulk, it was scarily quick on its clawed feet and its reflexes weren’t to be overlooked. I had the greater advantage in as much as I was armed with a much longer sword: before long the scaly green hide was a mass of small cuts and wounds where the Goblin hadn’t been able to avoid my blows. Finally, with a grunt, I managed to behead the damn’ thing.

The pouch at its waist contained several interesting items ~ a magical emblem of some kind and a yellow Ioun Stone amongst them. The presence of the glittering teardrop shaped stone was fairly probative of the fact that someone well connected was supplying the Horde. While I had no idea what powers the Ioun Stone might confer, I was extremely grateful that the creature hadn’t been using the Stone. Perhaps, in its eagerness to join the fight, it had simply forgotten that it had the stone? Of course, there was always the possibility that the stone belonged to some other poor adventurer who, venturing into these tunnels, had come to an… unpleasant end.

The sewers continued, ever descending, ever infested with Goblins and a variety of creature I’d never seen before. Of the size of a small pony, this scaled green beast with startling crimson eyes proved to be a far more formidable opponent than it’s appearance would suggest. Its speed and ferocity were to be both admired and feared: the slashing claws and drooling fangs made it a foe to be respected. Some of these creatures ~ that I’ve since learned are called Durzogs ~ bore studded leather collars around their thick necks and were obviously trained to defend the approaches to the area the Goblins were being trained.

Shaken and bruised, I reached the end of the sewers and the start of a series of caves cut into the rock. As before, these caves were littered with the remnants of buildings and structures long forgotten. As I ventured into the caves, a Nord ~ sitting on a bedroll beside a fire, gave me a flat glance. I nodded and continued on my way ~ why he was there and what he was doing were of no concern to me.

I came, in time, to a large cavern ~ the name of which struck me as fairly appropriate. ‘Battlefield’ was its name and a battlefield it would be. From my vantage point hidden in the rocks high above the rocky bowl, I could count half-a-dozen Goblins gathered around a number of camp-fires. Various passages led off from this place and, from the raucous din that echoed throughout, I knew that there were more of these foul creatures to be found.

I retreated back into the tunnels, finding an elevated spot where some long-ago tunneller had started to chip away but stopped after creating a small hollow. There were several of these in the tunnels and I had yet to discern their function ~ other than making for a secure spot to rest for the night. Hoping that there were no Shamans amongst the Horde, I levitated up to the hollow and set up a small camp ~ spending a cold and miserable night in those dank passages.

[minque]

That settles it...I have to fire up MW and go down the sewers......this is most inspiring and awfully well described, eew those horrible Durzogs..... :paperbag:


ehhh screenshots from the sewers? please...

[Burnt Sierra]

Sudhendra's starting to find the life of a heroine to be quite a lonely one isn't she? Crawling around in dark and damp sewers, I'm feeling quite sorry for her. The excellent descriptions of the miserable setting certainly helped, you bring the game's environment's to life really well, I'm still shivering over your account of Kogoruhn, and I'm sure you already know how I feel about your action sequences, seeing as I seem to mention them every time.

This is one of the stories that I enjoy reading the most. Always well written and extremely entertaining, it still amazes me how you seem to be able to update it so regularly. Looking forward to the next installment.:goodjob:

[jonajosa]

More great installments. I look forward to seeing this in the library in its complete form. :goodjob:

[minque]

[quote=jonajosa]More great installments. I look forward to seeing this in the library in its complete form. :goodjob:[/quote]

Me too, but you have to dedicate an entire bookshelf for it!!! :goodjob:

[OverrideB1]

I awoke from fitful sleep, feeling much stronger and focused than I had the day before. Obviously my travails of yestere had toned up my muscle and made me fitter, although that couldn’t account for the increased clarity of my mind. It was a sensation I knew well, that feeling of having, somehow, reached a new level of experience. And, I have to say, it was a feeling I was coming to enjoy: each time I experienced it, I felt reinvigorated and renewed, ready to take on the whole of Tamriel.

Before I’d ventured into the sewers, I had taken the time to visit a Mage in Mournhold, purchasing from him a number of cantrips that I thought might be of use to me. It was with the glowing green edifice of one of these spells firmly in mind that I returned to the rocky vantage point I’d discovered the night before. Staring down at the scene below, I visualised what I wanted to do and slowly spoke the words that would trigger the spell’s devastating effect, “'R awyra a anadli, Yn cripio addoed, gwenwyns chusana”.

It was a complex spell, one of the hardest that I’d ever had to master up to that point. The Mage had said that it wasn’t flashy or showy ~ just incredibly deadly. There was no difference that was visible to the mundane eye but, to one magically inclined, the fires dotted below now issued forth a creeping green smoke that wrapped itself around the creatures sitting next to them. As I crouched there, the sweat running down my face from the effort involved in casting and maintaining the spell, it seemed that nothing was happening.

Suddenly, with a harsh bark, one of the assembled foot soldiers stood, clawing at its throat. It coughed, spitting forth thin yellow bile that spattered the face of its nearest companion. Then, with a convulsive jerk, it crashed to the ground. Nor was it alone ~ others were now vomiting and coughing their last few moments away. Still others ran frantically back and forth, their tiny minds unable to comprehend that death, silent and deadly, wrapped its cloak around them no matter where in that chamber they ran.

In minutes it was over, all but the hardiest Goblins no more than slumped corpses. The rest mewled and crawled, desperately seeking aid that would be far to late even if it arrived. With a shaky sigh, I allowed the spell to collapse and slumped, drained, against the rocks. The restorative potion was a blessed relief, and I could feel the magicka ~ crystallised from the very air around me ~ pouring back into my body.

Clambering down the rocky slope into the now silent chamber, I reflected that the place was aptly named ~ a battlefield it had been, albeit a most unequal battle. As I stood on that field of death, I realised that I had accomplished something here, something momentous. For the very first time I had not had to rely on muscle-power to accomplish a task. Oh, I had used magic in combat before but only as a sort of additional ability to be used when sword or axe failed. This was something different: I had changed the world using naught but my mind and the focussing lens of a magic spell. Suddenly I understood the Telvanni drive for power, for this was power on a scale that could topple Empires. I also understood the tight restraints and checks that the Empire kept on Mages, for they too understood that Magic, unchecked and untrammelled, could tear apart the very fabric of reality to bring about changes of a magnitude undreamt of.

Flexing my fingers, I drew in a deep breath. Dismissing the already decaying bodies from my mind, I ventured deeper into the tunnels. And tunnels there were, dozens of them ~ if she didn’t have several pieces of chalk handy, a girl could get very lost down here.

As it was, I had to backtrack several times and once I walked into a series of tunnels only to find my own chalk-marks already scrawled on the walls ~ heading back in the direction I was coming from! So it was something of a surprise when I found myself standing in front of a simple oval door set into the frontage of a long buried building. The cartouche over the door read ‘Teran Hall’ but, scrawled alongside it, was a simple symbol of Goblin origin. This, then, was the heart of the infestation.

The door swung open at the slightest touch, silent and smooth on well-greased hinges. Several foot soldiers and a brutish ‘handler’ were using the halls of this long-forgotten manse but they proved to be susceptible to the kiss of magical death too ~ this time in the form of boiling blood. Once these had been dealt with, I was free to explore a little further: making sure to keep a wary lookout for any more of these brutes.

Of course, it’s all very well concentrating on a possible ambush. A wise and sensible precaution. Sometimes, however, it pays to spare a little awareness to your surroundings. I knew I was in trouble the instant I put my foot on the floor and it creaked alarmingly. As it sagged suddenly, I threw myself backwards but it was too late. With a grinding crash, the floor collapsed in a wide area around me and, accompanied by stone, rock, tiles and shards of wood, I plummeted into the darkness below.

[OverrideB1]

And, for those that want to know, the Poison Cloud spell described in the above section [quote]'R awyra a anadli, Yn cripio addoed, gwenwyns chusana[/quote] is Welsh and is pronounced AR awira AH ANAD-lee In KREP-yo athood GWINIS KU-sana


A rough translation would be [quote]The Air that you breathe, creeping death, venom’s kiss[/quote]

[Wolfie]

cool! i thought you had just made up some random gibberish (no offence to any welsh people out there)

[OverrideB1]

[quote=LoneWolf]cool! i thought you had just made up some random gibberish (no offence to any welsh people out there)[/quote] :rofl:

[OverrideB1]

How long I lay there, semi-conscious, I have no idea. Finally the pain in my left leg convinced me it was time to do something about it and, crawling like a child, I made my slow way from the rubble into a small chamber. Gradually, I rolled onto my back and levered myself into a sitting position against the wall ~ the pain in my leg having gone from a low hum to a full-blown aria. If it wasn’t broken, it was doing a pretty good impression. Of course, the length of wood sticking through my shin wasn’t exactly helping matters. The corpse propped up in the corner engendered certain morbid thoughts too.

One step at a time Sudhendra, I thought, you can do this. Wincing, since every slightest movement brought a silvery bolt of pain, I reached down and slit the hem of my robe, freeing my leg so I could get at the wooden shard. I cut a strip of fabric from my robe and wadded it up before shoving it between my teeth. Biting down hard on it ~ since I figured that this was going to be painful and I didn’t particularly want to attract more attention than I had to ~ I grasped the stub of wood and yanked…

When the world swam back into focus, there was a sizeable pool of blood under my left leg. “Oh that can’t be good,” I thought, spitting out the wadded up fabric. Leaning over produced another bolt of quite excruciating pain; it also brought my fingers to the strap of my pack. Now, if only the sturdy construction had protected the contents well enough, the results might be worth the agony.

I popped the lid off the small golden phial and drank deeply of the contents. “What you grinning at?” I asked the corpse, gritting my teeth as bone and flesh slowly knit itself back together again. I’m not too certain which was worse ~ the pain of the original injuries or the pain of reconstitution. Actually, on reflection…

When I could stand again, I moved slowly around the chamber until the dead-feeling had worked its way out of my leg. No longer hobbling like some four-hundred year old, I picked up my pack and checked through the contents. Some of the food had got a bit squashed, but there were no major breakages. Food, that seemed like a good idea. As I ate the hastily constructed meal, I squatted and examined the corpse. His clothing was strange, not just because it was very out of style, but also the cut and even the type of garments were odd. Nearby, next to the small fire pit, lay a note. It was badly scribbled and parts of the vellum had worn away with age ~ making it very difficult to read. From what I could piece together, the Man had been a sailor, brought here after a shipwreck and left to moulder and die in this pit.

Glancing up to reassure myself that I could levitate out of here if I needed to, I set about examining the chamber. It was obvious that the collapse of the floor above had breached its walls, making it possible to access the corridors beyond. To my great amusement, a green and malformed foot stuck out of the rubble. Obviously a scouting Goblin who’d got the shock of its life when the ceiling had suddenly come crashing down on it. Shouldering my pack, I moved into the corridor beyond the shattered wall. The one end was blocked and impassable, made so by a far more ancient collapse. The remainder of the corridor took a sharp left turn and ended in another of those oval metal doors.

From behind which I could hear muffled voices. Now, to the best of my knowledge, Goblins don’t communicate in anything more sophisticated than grunts and basic hand gestures ~ although they are capable of understanding spoke words if the speaker speaks slowly and clearly. My best guess? The room beyond the door was where the Altmeri trainers were hidden.

Returning to the corner of the corridor, I unhurriedly took the two crossbows off my pack and checked them over. The fall didn’t seem to have damaged them in any way so, using the foot-stirrups, I quickly loaded both and levelled them, aiming at the door. Concentrating deeply, I spoke the second of the three spells I’d purchased yestere, “Ysbryd ddwylaw.”

There was the strangest doubling sensation, as though I was still standing at the corner of the corridor but was, simultaneously, standing right beside the door. I pictured my doppelganger opening the door and, down the corridor, the metal portal swung open. There was a sudden silence from within, and then a steel-armoured High Elf appeared in the doorway. He grunted and pitched backwards as twin bolts slammed into the armour covering his chest. Even as a questioning voice rose from inside the room, I was casting down the crossbows and racing towards the door, the Ebony blade sliding from its scabbard.

I dived low, rolling through the door as a heavy blade crashed into the solid frame. Coming to my feet, I saw that one of the Altmeri was down but not out, cursing as he fumbled for a healing potion. The other was very much up and alive, turning towards me with a wickedly sharp-looking blade in his hand. Reaching down as he advanced, he pulled a shorted, curved dagger from his belt.

Our swords clashed briefly, I had to step quickly backwards to avoid a slashing blow from the dagger that would have done severe damage had it connected. I’ve never fought an opponent that used two blades before and it was increasingly difficult to deal with him, as he seemed able to effortlessly counter my every strike while his own skill with the twin blades was stretching me to the limit. As we fought, the knowledge that the other trainer was still alive and capable of joining in at any moment hovered in the back of my mind.

As we locked blades, I brought my knee up sharply ~ catching him in the one unarmoured spot. As his eyes crossed, I shoved him away as hard as I could and spat, “bob beichia blygedig a blygedig ail.”

He grunted, beads of perspiration appearing on his forehead as the weight of every item he carried suddenly quadrupled in weight. On unsteady legs, he moved towards me, gritting his teeth as he struggled to bring up his now weightier sword. Stepping back, I repeated the cantrip, grinning as he fell to his knees. Muscles bulged as he fought to stand ~ a scything cut ending his efforts by crushing his Temple and smashing his skull.

“Narro haud veneficus,” shouted the second trainer, the shock of the spell cleaving my tongue to the roof of my mouth. Bereft of magical offence, I took refuge in the magic he couldn’t stop. The scroll was exactly where I needed it to be and, hurriedly, I spoke the strange words written there. There was a metallic groaning noise as dust motes swirled in the air. The figure that manifested between us was slim and shapely, tall and indisputably feminine. With a metallic creak, the blank golden features turned in my direction, the head rotating through an impossible 180-degrees. At that moment, the Altmer moved.

Light flared deep inside hollow eye-sockets as the head whipped around to face him, a harsh crash accompanying the sudden straightening of limbs. A short glass sickle appeared in the hand of the Golden Saint while across the left arm a shimmering golden shield appeared. With an unearthly shriek, the Summoned threw itself at the armoured Mer, the hand-held scythe effortlessly ripping a gaping gash in the steel armour. I watched aghast as the butchery began ~ the hapless Mer pinned to the wall by the bulk of the Golden Saint as the sickle rose and fell with mechanical precision and relentlessness. The screams, as fine droplets of blood were replaced with larger splashes and then gouts of the stuff, were pitiful to hear.

Dripping with gore, the Golden Saint turned to face me. Emotionless features stared into my face as the demonic Summoning slowly sparkled and faded. Surely the sardonic quirk of the mouth at the last instant before dissolution was a figment of my imagination? The slow, smouldering hatred of that blank gaze was no figment. I shuddered; Atronachs were ferocious creatures ~ that I knew from personal experience. Golden Saints were a higher order of creature, surpassed only by the Dukes and Barons of Oblivion (and, of course, their infernal masters: the Daedra Princes themselves). What I had not anticipated was the sheer lethality, the cold and calculating, murderous hatred of the thing.

Securing a nearby room, I looked at the remaining scrolls that Dratha had given me. I had expected the Golden Saint to be a killing machine, like the Atronachs I had summoned in the past. But, while the Atronachs had clearly resented the Summoning, I couldn’t shake the feeling the Golden Saint had been furious and, with some cold intelligence, plotting vile and bloody revenge.

[Wolfie]

coooooooooool

[OverrideB1]

After a decent night’s sleep tucked up safely in my locked room deep underground, I set out to explore the rest of this manse and to see if I could discover the whereabouts of the War Chiefs. Exploration of Teran manor didn’t take long, there were a few crates tucked up some corners but I found very little of any interest. Thereafter, it was back into the maze of tunnels that surround this area.

After several brief and violent encounters with wandering bands of Goblins, I came to a small wooden door set into the side of one of the tunnels. Crudely written on the door, in western script, was the legend ‘Tears of Amun-Shae’. Not a name to inspire much confidence. As I studied the door, it suddenly swung open and I found myself face to chest with the biggest damn’ Goblin I’ve ever seen. With a yelp, I leapt back as a huge mace crashed down on the spot I’d been standing.

As the grunting brute advanced, I scrambled to my feet and hefted the Wish. The crescent-shaped blade hummed as it cut through air and Goblin flesh with equal ease. Thick reddish coloured blood oozed from the deep cut and, to my consternation, the Goblin War Chief threw back its head and uttered what sounded like a laugh. “Huuu-man,” it grumbled deep in its throat, “kuh-ill huuu-man.”

“I can see why they made you War Chief,” I jested with a certain morbid humour. The creature cocked its head, apparently listening to what I said. Then, baring an impressive array of fangs, it dragged itself upright and lashed out with the mace. The impact felt like I imagine being struck by lightning feels like ~ the force of it threw me several feet backwards and, at no point in that short journey, did my feet touch the ground. Had I been wearing lesser armour, the blow would have cracked me like an egg: perhaps the only time I would ever be grateful that Therana was insane.

One thing was certain though, another couple of blows like that and it wouldn’t matter what armour I was wearing. Rolling away from another crushing blow, I scrambled to my feet and squared up to my foe. As the creature brought the mace back up, I hacked downwards with the axe, blocking the blow. “All right handsome,” I said, “let’s dance.”

Squaring off against the brute, I started moving the axe in a slow circular pattern ~ weaving a web of pain for the creature if it got too close. Slowly increasing the speed, I advanced on the Goblin, forcing it backwards towards the door. Muscles bunched, and I read its intention even before the heavy mace started to move.

Spinning to the side, I let the whirling blade of the Wish slice outwards as the mace raised dust from the spot I’d been in moments before. The War Chief grunted in pain as the ornately carved crescent tore through skin, flesh and muscle, and then howled as the axe’s enchantment bit home. I pressed my advantage, whirling around the confused beast like a top ~ the now singing blade of the axe slashing out again and again. More cuts, gaping tears, appeared in the tough hide of the creature: each wreathed in hungry licks of flame. I lost count of the number of blows I landed: thirty, forty, maybe more. Finally, when I stopped moving, panting from exhaustion, there seemed to be no part of the brutish creature not leaking blood.

I hadn’t counted on the Goblin War Chief being this tough ~ despite the multitude of wounds it was still moving towards me in an attack posture. Furious, I started whirling the axe and, with a shout of “Why won’t you just die?” I hurled the Wish at the Goblin, hard. There was a noise similar to the sound you get when you bury an axe-head in the bole of a thick tree and the Goblin reached up in confusion to feel the blade that now protruded from its brow. “Oh you have got to be kidding me!” I exclaimed as, raising the mace, the War Chief took a step towards me.

As I scrabbled to draw the Ebony blade from its scabbard, the Goblin took another step, raising its mace high overhead. At the top of the arc, the mace simply kept going ~ tipping the now dead War Chief onto its back. With a gasp, I sank to my knees and drew in as much oxygen as I could. Over the last two days I’d fought numerous Goblins but nothing had prepared me for the sheer tenacity of the War Chief. When I could breath properly again, I carefully examined the massive corpse. Aside from the mace (which I could barely lift) and the leather harness that preserved whatever passed for modesty amongst these beasts, the only thing I found was a large plain key.

They key fitted perfectly into the lock of the chest I found a little way inside Amun-Shae. Inside I found six 100-Septim coins and a buckler. The shield was heavily enchanted, constructed out of some pinkish bone-like material. Since I had, to date, done most of my fighting with a long-handled axe or a double-handed sword I had no use for a shield but I took the buckler anyway ~ I might be able to get a couple of Septims for it from a collector.

With the money in my purse and the buckler strapped to the back of my pack, I advanced cautiously down the tunnels of Amun-Shae, keeping to the shadows as much as I could. As I approached the end of the tunnels, I could see the bulk of the second War Chief moving about in the chamber ahead of me. Not wishing to fight another such brute (my ribs still ached from the blow the first one had given me), I resorted to magic. Without some source to provide the fumes, the poison-cloud spell was incredibly difficult to cast: necessitating a second attempt before I felt the cantrip engage. Maintaining it proved equally as hard and, by the time I heard the thump of the War Chief’s body on the floor, I was literally on my knees, sweating profusely.

After giving the fumes some time to disperse and myself a little longer to recover, I ventured into the chamber. The huge bulk of the War Chief lay in one corner and, nearby, lay the corpses of two foot soldiers and a hulking brute that I hadn’t even known were there. The corpses of the War Chief and the foot soldiers provided nothing except a few restore health potions but the ‘lieutenant’ carried a rare prize indeed. Reverently wrapping the Black Ioun Stone in some cloth, I slipped it into my pack before completing my examination of the chamber.

I had accomplished what I’d come down here for: both of the trainers and the two War Chiefs were dead, but there were still areas to explore down here and I wished to make sure that the Horde was scattered or damaged badly enough to ensure it would no longer pose a threat. Besides, the door just ahead of me was to something called ‘The Armoury’ and I was intrigued enough to want to see what weapons I might be able to recover.

Rings and gold coins I found aplenty, as well as a large number of Goblins. Fortunately, these were mostly the smaller foot soldiers and I was able to cut a bloody swathe through their ranks with relative ease. In a small cavern just beyond the armoury ruins I found two massive outcroppings of rock ~ completely different in both colour and texture to the surrounding stone. Metal crystals poked from the surface of both and, working carefully with the pick-axe, I was able to extract two chunks of raw Adamantium from the protrusions. Although these were massively heavy for their size, I was able to fit both into my pack and shoulder it ~ although the straps cut into my shoulders abominably for the rest of the day.

The armoury ruins came to an end, and I found myself back in the tunnels that burrowed throughout this area. As I stepped into them, I saw a red chalked arrow pointing roughly east and knew that I’d been passed this particular turning before. Turning west, I headed back towards the sewers. Several hours later, I came to the sewer entrance and stumbled from the tunnels gratefully. Now, all I had to do was follow the chalked arrows back to…

“Whoa!” I yelled as a thunderous bolt of lightning hurled out of the darkness and exploded right beside me. As the spell discharged itself into the running water, I ducked behind a thick pillar for cover as a second thunderous bolt flew out of the gloom and blew a chunk out of the wall opposite. Peering cautiously around my cover, I spotted the large Goblin-shaped figure further down the sewer. One of the ‘Minder’-types I thought, but who in the name of Azura had taught the brute to use magic?

I puzzled over this seeming contradiction ~ Goblins were canny but not intelligent: certainly not smart enough to learn a spell of this magnitude although the Shamans were to be feared with their innate magical abilities. I’d not encountered a Shaman down in the tunnels and had no idea what they might look like although, by all accounts, they were smaller creatures than the one currently hurling lightning from the darkness. I’d not been idle while I’d been thinking, the crossbows had been loaded with two of my precious bolts ~ I needed to obtain more fairly soon as I was down to just five after I’d fired these two.

The bolts whipped off into the darkness as I made a snap-shot with both of the small crossbows. The answering fusillade of lightning-bolts told me I’d been wide of the mark. As I struggled to reload, the crashing blows of the spell against the pillar I was using as cover suddenly stopped and I heard an interrogative grunt echo down the tunnel. Dropping the bows, I withdrew the sword and ran towards the hulking figure. The Goblin was still peering at its right hand and shaking it when the blade lopped off its head.

The ring it wore was mute but there was still a faint echo when I touched it ~ showing that it was innately magical but drained of charge. This explained how the Goblin had been able to cast such a powerful spell ~ it was the ring's enchantment it had discovered how to use. My heart pounded as I hacked off the finger and took the simple golden band. Why was I so excited? The ring had eight tiny indentations in its metal and I knew, from books I’d read, that only a few very special rings were missing their stones. If I was correct, then this was the ancient artefact-ring known as ‘Spark’.

Burdened down by my pack, I slogged through the running water of the sewers, too exhausted to climb onto the small ledge that ran along the outside edges of the water-channel. It was a blessed relief when I came to the familiar metal ladder leading up to an overhead trapdoor. “Oy!” I yelled, hammering on the thick wood with the butt of my dagger, “people trying to get out of the sewers here!”

There was a shuffling of feet overhead and then the trapdoor was lifted from above, allowing in a flood of clean, sweet air and warm, golden light. Scrambling up the last few rungs, I collapsed onto the stone and breathed deeply of the first fresh air I’d tasted in days. “You can’t loiter there scum,” the High Ordinator who’d lifted the trapdoor groused. With a heavy sigh I rose to my feet and made my way through the streets of Godsreach back to Velas Manor. Shortly thereafter, I was luxuriating in a deep tub of magically heated water. Fedris Hler can wait, I thought as I sipped my Sujamma.

[Wolfie]

cool story Override. Any chance you could take a look at the one i posted and tell me what you think? i told Romana i'd get her some feedback

[minque]

oh-oh, in for a round of massive MW playing tonight it seems.....just have to explore these wretched sewers..........I´m really thrilled by this, even though I know I´d encounter problems with those giant goblins...brrrrrr

As always I´m totally caught up with this story....

[Aki]

Wow, nice description of a golden Saint. Very....mad.

[OverrideB1]

A cheerful-looking Ederen Albrege was waiting outside Velas Manor this morning as I set out to speak to Fedris Hler. He urged me to return to the Craftsman’s Hall with him as he had now completed my commission. I followed along willingly. “There,” he said, pointing to a tall wooden object, “isn’t she a beauty?”

‘She’ was indeed: the long-case clock was magnificent. The rich dark wood of the casing was polished to a lustrous shine while the pendulum was etched with the device of Great House Telvanni. The face was white; possibly porcelain, and the numerals were picked out in delicately inlaid Ebony. Even the fingers were a work of art ~ depicting, as they did, tiny representations of the sword Umbra. Ederen Albrege smiled and said, “Ordinarily, such a clock would sell for six thousand Septims. But, because of the favours I owe you, I am willing to let it go for just forty-five hundred Septims. And that, let me assure you, represents only a tiny profit margin.”

I couldn’t argue with that price ~ well, I could have done but that would have been… impolite. Having paid him, I asked Albrege if he would arrange to have the timepiece delivered to the Velas Manor later that evening. That done, I made my way through to the Temple complex via the Plaza Brindisi Dorum.

“Ahh, Ser Vahl,” Hler said, beaming happily. “We are informed that the threat to the city has been eliminated thanks to you. The Goddess is very pleased, and has instructed me to give you this…” here he handed me a bulging leather purse, “…by way of a reward. I think you’ll find it most generous.”

As I thanked him and turned to leave, he added, “I am given to understand that the High Priest, Gavas Drin, wishes to speak with you.”

“I have a few other errands to run first, Ser Hler,” I replied. “As soon as I have completed those, I shall return and speak to the High Priest.” At that point, I meant every word. Of course, I wished to speak to Tienius Delitian ~ I believed that the broadsheet I’d found in the Godsreach sewers is where the rumours concerning King Helseth are coming from. Leaving the Temple, I took the opportunity to check the contents of the heavy purse. Inside were 150 of the massive 100-Septim pieces. I blinked; here was wealth on a scale that I’d never dreamt of.

Smiling happily, I descended the steps and, ignoring the strutting popinjay in Ebony armour that was parading up and down in the Temple grounds, I headed towards the Royal Palace.

“Look who it is,” a sneering voice said behind me as a hand grasped my forearm.

“Unhand me sirrah,” I snapped, spinning to address the short individual that had accosted me, “or, by Sotha Sil’s beard you’ll regret it.”

Letting go of my arm, the armoured figure raised the visor on the Ebony helm and I found myself staring down into the grinning face of the grifter Gaenor. “Didn’t recognise me, did you? Told you I was lucky. Now, let’s have at it, right here and right now…” And, with that, he drew a ridiculously oversized Ebony blade from his scabbard.

“What are you babbling about?” I asked, taking a step back. “Have you totally lost your mind?”

“Oh no, Vahl,” he sneered, “I told you you’d regret not giving me money…” With that, he swung the sword at me, clearly intending to disembowel me where I stood.

“Bloody Oblivion,” I yelped, taking a rapid flurry of backward steps to avoid the blow. “Do you have any idea of who you’re dealing with? Let me give you an illustration,” I said. Drawing myself upright, I extended a hand and concentrated on the ring I’d slipped around my finger. Now fully recharged, Spark lived up to its name ~ unleashing a barrage of thunderous bolts.

“Whoo-hoo-hoo,” the Bosmeri chortled as I found myself the centre of a howling storm of discharging magic. The force of my own spell hammered me repeatedly; and I finally ended up some twenty paces from where I’d been. Laying there on the floor where the force of the spell had thrown me, I squinted up at the slowly advancing Bosmer. Angrily, I concentrated and yelled, “Exuro meus Hostilis.”

“Ha-ha-ha-ha,” Gaenor howled with laughter as the fireball made a totally improbable 180-degree turn and hurled back towards me. With a curse I rolled away from the impact point, scrambling to avoid the hungrily licking flames that splashed across the granite path. “Told you I was one lucky son of a Guar, didn’t I?” he spluttered.

“That’s more than lucky,” I murmured, squinting at the Wood Elf. By concentrating, I could discern a faint magical aura shimmering around him. He wore some sort of charm, or an amulet, that was having an effect on him. What was it he’d said? ‘Lucky’ ~ that was it; somehow the little sneak had managed to get hold of something that massively enhanced his luck. Enhanced it to the point where even spells would not obey the caster. I groaned because that rendered virtually every spell I knew totally useless.

What I was not expecting was the powerful effect of the field to also affect my ability to hit the little sod with my axe. Twice I swung the Wish in deadly blows only to have my grip on the handle slip (in the first instance) or to have somehow misjudged the distance (in the second instance). Gaenor made no attempt to defend himself nor, judging by my continued feeble attempts to land a blow, did he have to. “Obscurum successio,” I shouted, barely dodging a lazy swing that ~ had I been but a fraction of a second slower ~ would have been a major inconvenience.

The thick greenish mist of the spell rose between us and I turned and ran, swinging my pack off my shoulder and grabbing inside for the pouch wherein I kept my rings and things. I’d been smart enough not to cast the spell directly at Gaenor; instead I’d cast it at the ground directly in front of him. Dropping the pack, I put as much distance between the Wood Elf and me as possible.

“COWARD!” he roared, bursting out of the misty residue of the spell and waving his sword fiercely. “There’s no escape Dunmer,” he taunted.

Escape was the last thing on my mind. Accelerating, I put the bulk of the Temple between the Bosmer and me so that I could search the contents of the pouch for the ring I wanted. Slipping it on my finger, I concentrated ~ feeling the strange sensation that accompanies entering the shadow-world of a chameleon spell. My plan was simple: wrapped in the cloak of a Shadow-Weave spell, I would sneak back to my pack and get the crossbows. Then, levitating into a nearby tree I would load them up and then, still cloaked, sneak up behind Gaenor and let him have both bolts in the back of the neck at extremely close range. “Let’s see you dodge that,” I muttered with some satisfaction.

[Wolfie]

whatr a cruel way to do in Gaenor. Funny as hell though

[jonajosa]

make sure he gets some hits in on you though... His luck in the game was really good. You could turn this into a really good fight.

:goodjob:

[minque]

[quote=jonajosa]make sure he gets some hits in on you though... His luck in the game was really good. You could turn this into a really good fight.

:goodjob:[/quote]

Oh...I am sure there will be an incredible fight.......knowing Override...

[jonajosa]

[quote=OverrideB1]“Bloody Oblivion,” I yelped[/quote]

Would ya take a look at that. An English Dunmer!