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> A New Threat, The sequel to "Bloodlust"
The Metal Mallet
post Jan 6 2008, 08:11 AM
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Master
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From: Kitchener, ON, Canada



Oooooo, what could this threat be!? The mystery! Haha, it probably won't be too long for you guys to figure out what the threat is. I'll eventually drop the obvious hint once I reach the correct point. For now, I leave you in suspicion...

Now to start this puppy off with a cliche beginning but I liked what I wrote so I'm keeping it this way!


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I found myself in a dark void; the darkness was heavy and oppressive. Yet, for some odd reason I could plainly see my hand when I brought it to my face. To my sudden shock I saw that my hand was covered in dark, congealing blood. I quickly gazed at my other hand and found the same result; the fluid was actually becoming sticky. My heart felt like it had risen to my throat and I struggled to breathe. There had to be some sort of logical explanation for this!

I felt like running, but the void was so dark I had no idea which way to go. Anxiety crept up my spine and my sticky hands clenched into fists and began to shake. I closed my eyes then and tried to slow down my heavy breathing. I tried to get myself collected and calm. Attempts at trying to discern why I was in this situation were beginning to be futile so instead I decided to focus on calming my nerves. Finally, after nearly tumbling off the summit of my sanity, my chest stopped heaving breaths and slowed to a normal rate. My heartbeat ceased hammering and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Then I heard a voice.

My eyes snapped open, only to see the familiar void. I turned about in a circle, looking in all directions for the source of the voice, but to no avail. The panic was slowly returning once again. Had my mind actually snapped? Was the voice a figment of my mind? I looked down and saw my bloodstained hands once again. It was becoming increasingly annoying trying to keep my fingers from sticking together.

The voice sounded again.

I looked up and saw nothing once again. This time I knew the sound came in front of me! The voice was more of a moan than any words, but I knew it was human.

“Who is there?” I called out. Strangely enough my voice echoed along the void.

I stood waiting, my ears straining for a reply. Yet nothing came. I called out once more, my voice cracking with nervousness. Still, no reply.

Absentmindedly, I wiped at the sweat on my brow and instantly groaned in disgust as I felt the substance on my hand smear against my skin. Revolted, I attempted to keep my hands as far away from me as possible. The brownish-red colour was beginning to haunt me. I closed my eyes again, this time to shut out the vision of my hands. I couldn’t stand the sight of them.

After a few moments, when I thought I could deal with situation, I opened my eyes once more. A hooded figure in a brown robe stood before me. Startled by the sudden appearance of the figure, I cried out and jumped back.

“I bet you’re wondering about that blood on your hands aren’t you?” an indiscernible voice said from the recesses of the hooded figure. I couldn’t see a face. Within the robe I could only see darkness as deep as the void that surrounded me.
“Yes,” I replied weakly.

“Well…” the voice began. I could almost feel the smile spreading across its face, “It’s the blood of your victims.”

The moaning noise sounded from behind me and I whirled around and found emptiness. Swallowing hard I turned back around to the stranger.

“My victims?”

The hooded head nodded slightly. “Yes. Let me show you,” it said, gesturing behind me.

Taking a deep breath, I turned around slowly. I expected the worse but I only found myself staring at the void once again.

“I don’t see anything,” I said dumbly.

An odd sensation swept past my ear following my words. It was as if a slight breeze had blown past me.

“Just wait,” the voice hissed into my ear.

Annoyed, I turned to face the figure to tell it to get away from me but the hooded figure was no where to be seen. Sweat was running freely down my back now. Just what the hell was I getting into?

Just then the moaning voice returned and I whirled back to the direction the figure had pointed out to me. I stared in horror as a familiar person lurched towards me. She was a middle-aged Imperial with brown hair. She was hobbling towards me and it appeared as if each step caused her harm. Her hand clutched at her body as she was covered in bloody stab wounds. Her normally smiling face was contorted in pain.

“Bernise!?” I called out incredulously.

The low moan that I had heard previously escaped her lips. She was in such agony!

“Why couldn’t you help me?” she gasped, “Why did you let me die?”

Tears sprung from my eyes. “I tried! I was too slow. It hadn’t dawned on me until it was too late!’

A gurgling noise sounded to my left and faced another familiar face. Blood poured down the chin of Madsen, the homeless man. He could not speak since his murderer removed his tongue but his accusatory eyes told me enough.

“Whhhhhyyyyyy…”

All around me those who had passed on in a horrible fashion appeared, most of which were assassinated Town Guardsmen. All of them accused me on why I couldn’t save and why I failed them. The torrent of voices were crashing upon me, overwhelming me. I couldn’t take it, yet I was surrounded. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t flee. All I could do was fall to my knee, close my eyes, and clamp my hands to my ears screaming “Stop it!” over and over.

Almost on command the voices did stop. I opened my eyes in amazement but then I realized why they stopped. The hooded figure had returned. It stood before me within the circle of long dead comrades. It gestured in an all encompassing manner.

“This is but of sample of all those you’ve damned,” the figure stated.

Slowly, I regained my feet. “No… Someone else killed them. I am no murderer!”

I felt the smile emanating from the stranger once again. “Though you may not have driven in the blade, you could’ve prevented all these deaths…” the figure paused and reached for his hood, “Besides I should know, I was the one who killed them.”

My eyes widened as the figure revealed himself as Simion, the Breton assassin that had plagued my town 3 years ago. The crazed look was still in his eyes and that recognizable smirk was still etched to his face.

I stood frozen in place, uncertain in what I could do. I was trapped with the most dangerous man I had ever faced on the job.

“What do you want?” I managed to choke out.

Simion stepped closer, yet I remained rooted in my place. For some reason my feet did not seem to want to respond to what my brained wanted them to do.

“I’m simply performing a job. You see, everyone here has hired me to show you the pain they went through. What better assassin to hire than the one that killed them, right?” Simion replied joyously.

Rather nonchalantly, Simion removed a silver dagger from within his robes. Another smirk returned to his face as he stopped inches away from my quivering body.

“I’m going to take my time with this.”

I could only stare at the dagger as it plunged into me.





I awoke with a start. My bed sheets were damp with cold sweat. Almost without thought I looked down at my hands. Relief flooded me as I found them cleaned and unstained. It was just a dream. Just like the other ones had been.

“Damn, Savlian, it’s been a wile since you had one of those,” I quietly said aloud. I pushed back the hair that was matted to my forehead and followed that by rubbing my arms in an attempt to warm myself up.

Looking out of the window to my room I noticed that it was still dark. The stars were dim though and judging by the purple haze to the east, dawn was not far off. I gazed back at my bed thoughtfully. A little more sleep was an option but my dream put a quell to that notion. Instead, I decided I was going to go to work early.


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Now, though it may appear that there's going to be a lot of reoccurring characters in this story, I'll tell you now, that is most likely not going to be the case. Who knows though, based on how this story develops I just might toss in someone familiar. I doubt it, but I truly can't say what'll happen.

I also hope I don't take a year and a half to finish this story. Based on what I plan to do with this one, I expect it to be much shorter than "Bloodlust" but then again, I never thought "Bloodlust" would ever be as long as it turned out to be...


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"This body, holding me makes me feel eternal. All this pain is an illusion" - Parabola (Tool)
"This here ain't called boasting, it's called truthin' " - Mango Kid (Danko Jones)
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canis216
post Jan 6 2008, 09:01 AM
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Ah, good to have you writing a new story. And what a brilliant opener this was--a real attention grabber.


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Read about Always-He-Lingers-in-the-Sun, a Blades assassin, in Killing in the Emperor's Name and The Dark Operation. And elsewhere.
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jack cloudy
post Jan 6 2008, 09:23 PM
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Master
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Ha, I knew Savlian couldn't walk out of that without some emotional trauma! biggrin.gif


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minque
post Jan 12 2008, 04:02 PM
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Ahhh...more bloodlust....Looking forward to follow this one! Keep it up Mallie!


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The Metal Mallet
post Jan 28 2008, 08:19 AM
Post #5


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From: Kitchener, ON, Canada



The cold wind swept past me as I exited my home, which immediately made me pull my cloak closer to myself. It was early spring which meant that the nights were still bitterly cool given the altitude of the where the city stood. Sure, from a defensible stance, the small road that wound its way up the cliff provided as easy way to defend the city yet it didn’t change the fact about how cold the weather could get up here. I smirked as I recalled an instance where a travelling merchant from Bruma was actually caught off guard by the cold.

Dispelling the random thought, I continued on towards the town barracks, my footsteps echoing against the cobblestones and dark houses. The wind gusted once more and I shrank into my cloak even more to fend off the chill. An eerie sensation washed over me as I made my journey. It felt like I had eyes staring at my back. My paced quickened in an attempt to get rid of the sensation yet it continued. I couldn’t help but glance behind me, just to order to convince myself I was fine. Nothing out of the ordinary was all I saw. Just calm, empty streets. By the Divines I wished morning would just hurry up and get here.

I hurried on, hoping that I had quelled my anxiety yet the feeling persisted. Images of my dream flared into my mind and I panicked. I raced down the street and as I rounded a corner I abruptly stopped and plastered myself against the building I was beside. My heart was racing, my chest was heaving and I had no reason to feel this way!

In frustration I sagged downed into a sitting position, my wrists resting against my raised knees. I admonished myself for letting a dream bother me this much. Simion was dead! I saw his corpse being taken away before I passed out. There was no need to worry.

Yet, every time I had a dream involving that horrible case 3 years ago I ended up a paranoid wreck for at least the next day. I was surprised that no one I worked with really noticed anything when that happened. I must admit, shortly after Simion was killed the dreams plagued me nearly every night. They weren’t always the same, yet they were frightening similar and it always ended with Simion killing me in some fashion. Over the years, the dreams began to dwindle quickly. The last time I had a dream like this was months ago. I had finally thought I had put the past behind me but it appears that isn’t the case.

I rose from my position. Rays of sunlight were beginning to pierce the maroon sky. I sighed in relief, the source of light all ready comforting me. I looked around and what I once thought looked threatening appeared safe and normal once again. I then realized that the barracks was not far away and my journey carried on at a more reasonable pace this time.

The Kvatch barracks was located directly beside the gateway that led to the Castle of Ormellius Goldwine, the Count of the town. Its position proved to be the perfect defence for the Castle as troops could immediately aid the Count should trouble rise. Over the last few years should trouble had yet to rise, a feat that I found much pride in. My men and I cracked down heavily on the various smuggling operations that had long existed in the town due to the rule the previous Count held. Now, crime was almost a memory to the people of Kvatch. Sure, there was the odd robbery or mugging, but we did our best to keep this one of the safest towns in Cyrodiil. Since the removal of the corruption in the town, I had made it a personal goal to keep things going as well as they have been.

The guard standing watch outside the barracks gave me a salute as I approached and smirked. “Early start for you today, sir,” he commented congenially.

I returned the salute. “Yep, I woke up early and couldn’t go back to bed so I thought I may as well.”

The guard simply nodded and opened the door for me. I walked in and was greeted with the all too familiar flickering torchlight of the barracks. The stone building was built for defence so there were not too many windows within the corridors of the fortification. Even during the day the torches burned, that was how little light entered into this section of the barracks. I proceeded down the hallway, my leather shoes echoing softly against the stone walls. Echoes of other men and women roaming the building could be heard as well. The barracks could provide rooms for the entire Town Guard if needed so there was often much activity going on within the confines of the building. During the night and early morning, it was the Night Shift and conversely, the Day Shift kept things busy during the day. I personally found much comfort in the constant buzz of the building. It is the silence that gets to me. I always get a feeling that I’m being hunted while things are silent.

At the far end of the corridor, I reached my office. I unlocked the door with the large ring of keys I was entitled to and stepped in. The same neat and orderly room greeted my vision. I am a man that enjoys his simplicity so I must admit my office is fashioned in a Spartan nature; just an uncluttered desk, a few thinly padded chairs, a coat and cloak rack, and a large cabinet filled with drawers for all my paperwork. As Captain of the Town Guard I received lots of paperwork which usually consisted of reports and investigations from my men and scheduling information. All financial and expenses were handled by a town official who had the office across the corridor from mine. I was glad I didn’t have to deal with such things; numbers and figures weren’t things I cared for. That doesn’t mean I don’t hold respect for those who can handle such things. In fact it is quite the opposite; I admire those who can do something I cannot.

I turned around and removed the papers and envelopes contained in the mailbox that was built into the door. It was rather convenient since guards that couldn’t find me could simply stick their reports or whatever information they wanted into the slot on the front of my door. Shuffling through the paperwork I slowly made my way to my chair. All of it was the usual paperwork I received on a daily business. That was until I turned up the last one.

It was a personal summons from the Count. No intention or emotion was held within the note, just a formal summons to meet Count Goldwine before noon today. I dropped the note onto the desk and neatly placed the rest of my paperwork beside it. I contemplated when exactly I should meet the Count. Over the years of working for him I found he was an early starter just like me. A person who had lived the military life rarely seemed to escape early starts. So based on that I knew he would be awake by now. Looking at the stack of papers beside the note and I judged that there wasn’t that the time to handle the stack wouldn’t take long. My curious piqued and my decision made, I rose from my desk. It was time to see the Count.


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There's one thing I need to figure out before I get to the brunt of the story. I want to get to that brunt quickly but I know I need to do a few things first, I just need to figure out what those things are... Oooh! I just got it now... Hehe, that idea should prove well...


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I am currently a Writer in The Order of Schola.
Official Fan Fiction Forum "Commentasaurus"

"This body, holding me makes me feel eternal. All this pain is an illusion" - Parabola (Tool)
"This here ain't called boasting, it's called truthin' " - Mango Kid (Danko Jones)
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Olen
post Jan 29 2008, 01:02 AM
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Mouth
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Developing nicely. Not sure I fancy the life expcetancy of the count to be high though... You might want to give the character a name though its not really nessesary as its fairly clear who he is.


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Look behind you and see an ever decreasing number of ghosts. Currently about 15.
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jack cloudy
post Jan 29 2008, 09:03 AM
Post #7


Master
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From: In a cold place.



You mean Ormellius Goldwine? His name is mentioned as the owner of the castle.

Anyway, I like how it continues. You're taking your time with getting through the events, but that is not a bad thing. Rushing a story isn't always a good thing. I've discovered that myself lately.


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Black Hand
post Jan 30 2008, 02:32 AM
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From: Where the sun shines everyday in hell.



Nice start here Mallet!
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The Metal Mallet
post Feb 7 2008, 10:40 PM
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From: Kitchener, ON, Canada



I didn’t have to knock on Ormellius’ door as it was all ready opened, as if it was awaiting my arrival. I peered into the room and saw a silhouette being bathed by the sunlight piercing through the large windows. Though I had to squint through the sunlight, I determined it was the Count by his broad shoulders. I cleared my throat.

“Sir, you requested me?”

Ormellius Goldwine turned around and I briefly managed to see his clean shaven, rigid face before the sunlight blinded it from view. Picking up on my apparent discomfort, Ormellius walked to the drawstring for the window drapes. Once the sunlight disappeared behind the purple drapes I removed the hand that was shielding my eyes. Ormellius had retuned back to his desk.

“Sorry about that Captain. As you know, seeing the sun rise up on a clear day such as this always seems to… energize me I suppose,” Ormellius’ deep voice said.

I nodded at his statement. Many soldiers that I knew appreciated waking up to a clear day. It just seemed to give them that motivation they needed to do their jobs. Sadly, I wish I could gain the same feeling from a sunrise. The pestering dreams could make the most beautiful day of the year seem drab.

Ormellius clasped his rough and worn hands together and rested them lightly on his oak desk. The wistful look he previously displayed was now replaced with one of utmost seriousness.

“I have received a private personal message that has me concerned,” he stated flatly, fixing me with a level look.

I took up the chair opposite to the Count, the mood of the situation filling me with purpose and curiosity. “Go on.”

I noticed that the Count’s jaw tightened briefly as he thought of how to proceed with what he was going to tell me. Something definitely concerning had happened. Ormellius often only displayed one expression when performing his duties; a stone cold, yet level look. A stranger would think that the man had no sense of humour at all.

“The message came from a man that I greatly respect and admire. He had performed a great favour for me while we both served in the Legion and I had promised him to return the favour whenever the need called for it,” he paused to make sure I understood what he was saying, “he’s asking for it now.”

“What’s the situation?” I asked eagerly, my thirst for knowledge getting the best of me.

Ormellius sighed. “It appears that someone has kidnapped his daughter. He is not a wealthy man and the money they are asking for her return is far beyond what he can afford. The money doesn’t matter though; his training with the Legion has ingrained in him the belief that he will not negotiate with criminals. I once believed that but politics has clouded that belief somewhat,” the Count began dryly.

“So, you are not going to pay the ransom for him then, correct?” I posed.

Ormellius shook his head. “No, my old friend has specifically told not to pay a single Septim. Instead he wants me to hunt down these kidnappers and bring them to justice. My pledge to him demands I follow his instructions. Unfortunately, given my current position, I cannot go out and find these criminals myself.”

“And that’s why you called me,” I continued for him.

The Count nodded knowingly. “I know you can be discreet about this. Plus I’m sure you’re eager to get out of that office for a bit,” he said chuckling dryly.

A grin of determination crossed my lips as the importance of the mission settled on me. “Well you don’t need to ask me if I’ll do it because I will. What else do I need to know,” I said without hesitation.

Ormellius nodded in satisfaction. “Excellent.” He opened a drawer and removed the inconspicuous message and slid it along the desk to me. “Everything thing you need to know is right there,” he stated plainly.

I nodded to him as I picked up the message. I began to rise from my seat. “Is that everything then sir?” I asked.

“Yes, dismissed. I expect you’ll get on this right away. As the message will tell you, the deadline for the money is in two days,” Ormellius said levelly but with a look that said “you better not disagree with me”.

“I certainly shall. I’ll put all the effort I’m capable of doing into this sir,” I said confidently as I tucked the message into a breast pocket. Without any other notice, I left the Count’s office,

The message felt like it was burning a hole in my pocket I was that eager to get my hands on it and pour over the information it stored. This was exactly what I needed, something to get my mind off of the dreams, something that would bring pressure…

Something that could be dangerous.

I expected the odd look the guard at the door gave me as I all but hurried past him in order to get to my office. The torches nearly whizzed by me in a blur as I made my way down the corridor to my office. All the while the message was now beginning to feel like a hot piece of coal in my pocket.

I somehow managed to unlock the door to my office without fumbling the keys with unsteady hands. I assume that the constant weapons training helped with steadying my movements despite whatever emotions I was currently experiencing. The door closed right after I got through it and I clicked the lock back into place. Discretion was key here.

At my desk I finally dropped the message onto my desk. As it sat there I took a moment to collect myself. I was about to embark on something I hadn’t done in about 3 years. It had been that long since I had to deal with a significant job like this. This time though I had the choice to do it or not. Last time I was forced into it given my position. I knew I was merely buying time to prepare myself since I had all ready made my decision to do the job. The fact is, am I sure I’m ready to do this one again?

“Yes,” I said aloud and opened the message.

The script of the hand was straight forward and legible. It looked like something that would fit reports that the Legion would often have to write. The information provided was clear and concise as well:

To Count Ormellius Goldwine,

It is with my honour at stake that I write to you. That debt you had pledged to me so long ago will now have to be used. I fear there is no other way I can handle the situation at hand…

You see, last Loredas my daughter was in your town to pick up some things from the market as she often does. Yet she did not return that evening. I was worried but I assumed that she met a friend in town and decided to spend the night there. The next morning though I found the ransom note. Someone has taken her and is requesting money that I don’t have!

There is only one way to deal with these crooks. I’m sure you know what I mean. These monsters must be hunted down and brought to justice! I will not give them any money! I know though that they expect me to do something to save her and if I do anything myself they are bound to kill Marisa. So it is for that reason that I turn to you. I need you to discretely find whoever took my daughter and do what needs to be done.

The ransom is due two days from the time you read this so please be swift in finding these criminals. If you have need to speak with me I still live at the farm that is south of the road to Kvatch once you get off the hill. Ask about barley when you arrive just in case there are any unwanted ears listening. I expect word from you soon in some way.

Your old friend,
Lieutenant Gregory Kilich


I returned the message back to my pocket, the sensation felt cool as if reading its contents had sapped the message of all its heat. I pondered on where to begin and I quickly realized I had to see Kilich in person. There had to be something he left out in the message in case the wrong hands got a hold of it.

I lifted my cloak from its peg and draped it across me. I had a trip down the hill to make.


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I am currently a Writer in The Order of Schola.
Official Fan Fiction Forum "Commentasaurus"

"This body, holding me makes me feel eternal. All this pain is an illusion" - Parabola (Tool)
"This here ain't called boasting, it's called truthin' " - Mango Kid (Danko Jones)
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Agent Griff
post Feb 8 2008, 08:54 AM
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Hm, interesting introduction to the Count we never meet in-game, that's not to say that the other Counts are anything special however. Most of them are pretty bland if you ask me. I'm looking forward to how you will implement the death of his sons in creating Goldwine's personality.


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The Metal Mallet
post Feb 9 2008, 09:27 PM
Post #11


Master
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From: Kitchener, ON, Canada



QUOTE(Agent Griff @ Feb 8 2008, 02:54 AM) *

Hm, interesting introduction to the Count we never meet in-game, that's not to say that the other Counts are anything special however. Most of them are pretty bland if you ask me. I'm looking forward to how you will implement the death of his sons in creating Goldwine's personality.



Goldwine has sons? I never knew that, where did you get that from?


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I am currently a Writer in The Order of Schola.
Official Fan Fiction Forum "Commentasaurus"

"This body, holding me makes me feel eternal. All this pain is an illusion" - Parabola (Tool)
"This here ain't called boasting, it's called truthin' " - Mango Kid (Danko Jones)
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Agent Griff
post Feb 9 2008, 09:36 PM
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"Family strife in Kvatch claimed the lives of both sons of Count Ormellius Goldwine, vying for the inheritance. While peace has been restored, the Count, at the time of this writing is still in mourning and has not designated a new heir."

Quoted from: http://www.imperial-library.info/pge3/cyrodiil.shtml

The Imperial Library to be exact. Nothing beats it when it comes to TES lore and information. Not even the UESP, though it may be more suitable for more specific info like quests or people. Pound for pound though, the Library is the best site for Elder Scrolls lore out there. That particular quote is taken from the Pocket Guide to the Empire which comes with Oblivion. You will discover a lot of very interesting information about current affairs in Tamriel.


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The Metal Mallet
post Feb 10 2008, 08:54 AM
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Hmmm... The link you provided me spoke of one "Haderus Goldwine". I actually haven't heard of him before but the possibility of it being a different name for a different version of "Oblivion" is a possible factor.

Anyways, my version of Goldwine is that he's a former Legionnaire that gained his title of being the Count due to the assassination of his older brother, Vernon Goldwine (a character I created in my previous story, "Bloodlust"). Vernon had no heir so the title was passed onto the next in line within his family. Ormellius shares the same trait in that he has no children either as far as I'm concerned.


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Official Fan Fiction Forum "Commentasaurus"

"This body, holding me makes me feel eternal. All this pain is an illusion" - Parabola (Tool)
"This here ain't called boasting, it's called truthin' " - Mango Kid (Danko Jones)
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Agent Griff
post Feb 10 2008, 11:31 AM
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Oh, Haderus. I didn't notice that. Perhaps I was thinking about Ormellius and forgot that. But still, I'd say that's it is definitive lore from Bethesda itself. So, in your story, Ormellius will remain childless?


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jack cloudy
post Feb 12 2008, 10:18 AM
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Hmm, kidnapping. Well, it doesn't look as if Simion popped out of his grave, so no worries. laugh.gif

Or maybe there are worries. Hmm, I smell a complot.


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