Evolution, A TES Fan-Fiction Options

[Zalphon]

Prologue

3E 422

My eyes slowly opened to reveal bookcases lined with books, ingredients and trophies. I had fallen asleep in the Common House in the Wolverine Hall. This wasn’t that—it was something entirely different. The fungal walls were lined with book cases holding books, various alchemical substances and trophies.

I slowly forced myself into a standing position. The cold air hit me as soon as I managed to stand. The icy chill only bit into specific parts—it was as if invisible tendrils had a tightening grip on my body. The tendrils felt much more real when I tried to move my arms. They were completely immobilized by this abnormal cold.

A Dunmer garbed in flowing, ebon robes materialized out of thin air. Four others instantly appeared as well. The Dunmer stated with his raspy voice, “I am Lord Sarthon Kirth and you are in Tel Kirth.” My eyes widened slightly—Tel designated that I was in a Telvanni Tower.

“Bray-Hul demands to know why she is away from her master,” the Argonian questioned. My eyes took a quick glance to notice Bray-Hul was a relatively thin. Her tattered shirt hung off her as if she was only a skeleton and her pants were almost as loose.

“If I may explain,” Kirth responded. “You five are people no one will miss. You’re slaves, outlaws and paupers. This is why you have all been blessed with an opportunity to become Telvanni Wizards.”

The Nord to my right was a young man with shoulder-length blonde hair. He was breathing heavily and his face was flushed. “You damn dark elves are cowards,” the man blurted. “I’ll snap your spine like a skeever.” Sarthon shook his head and extended his open hand. He whispered something and out of his hand shot a bright chartreuse orb that slammed into the young man.

The Nord’s screams were sharp. I watched as the orb burrowed into his chest, dissolving his body as it went. As the screams continued, we all stood in silence as a puddle of viscera slowly formed at his feet. His entire body was eventually liquefied by the spell and then it just—disappeared.

“I do not appreciate threats,” the Wizard continued emotionlessly. “And you all need to learn the rules of what is going to occur over the next twenty-four hours. You’re going to be sent to the Canals beneath Vivec where you four will either kill each other or all die.”

“What—what are you talking about?” the Altmer Girl to my left said. “We…have to kill…each other?” Her voice was cracking as she struggled to say the words.

“You will all wear chokers. They are linked by your life force; if even two of you still live after twenty-four hours, then you’ll all be killed. If only one survives, you’ll be teleported back here and will gain the privilege of studying magic under me.”

What was the point of this game? What was he gaining out of this other than several corpses in the canals beneath Vivec? The Dunmer muttered under his breath and a black-metal collar appeared around my throat. One appeared around all of our throats. What was this thing?

There was a blinding flash of light and when I could see again, the world around me had changed. The bookshelves and walls had changed to a gargantuan metal pipe. In the center was a river slowly moving to its destination. Rats scurried around on the metal side-walks of the large pipe.

With a sigh, I knelt down and looked around for a tool to use in this fight. A skeleton with a steel stiletto between its ribs lay there peacefully. Next to it was a half-empty bottle with a label that was so old that it became too faded to read. And beside the bottle was a note that shared the same fate as the label. My hand firmly gripped the blade. The hunt had just began…

[mALX]

You have totally floored me with this one, Zalphon !!! How did you think of this? AWESOME !!! Great Write !!

[King Coin]

You five four have the opportunity to become wizards. Oh, only one of you will be trained, the rest of you will be dead.

What a heck of a contest. Great story though!

[Rihanae]

I have to agree with mALX!! Words cannot describe how thrilling and tense this is!

It kinda reminds me of 'Saw', but that does not mean it doesn't seem like a great, original idea.

OOOHHH I can't wait for more! I can't wait to see who will survive, or even if the protagonist finds a way for them all to survive! Who knows?? Haha

You've got me very excited about this!

Can't wait for more!!

[Acadian]

An interesting and creative proposition! Snatched up for some cruel Telvanni experiment/selection process. Armed with a dagger in the sewers, our protagonist faces a kill or be killed scenario – ‘there can be only one’. This is off to a nice start with plenty of crisis and mystery.

[Zalphon]

@mALX, thanks--you're always my Number One Fan

@King Coin, I'm glad to see you're intrigued.

@Rihanae, Telvanni live by Survival of the Fittest--I figured this was a great hook to the story. Not only does it start out by placing him in a struggle for survival, but I could easily see a Telvanni Wizard-Lord selecting an apprentice in such a way.

@Acadian, Especially in the Canals of Vivec--a place where the Slaughterfish and Rats may kill you before the competitors.

@All Readers, I'd like to assure you all that the protagonist's personality will become much more visible as the story goes on. I know that (s)he seems relatively devoid of emotion and personality at the moment, but (s)he'll seem much more...real as Chapter One progresses and the events of the Test occur.

[King Coin]

Lol, you don't even want us to know the gender of our protagonist yet!

[Lycanthropic-Legend]

Too many mysteries! But I do love me some Telvanni lore, and you are right, they do live by that code. If they can murder, steal and destroy without getting caught, then it is encouraged. I love this little test to see which survives. It all boils down to:

"The strong survive, only because it is the strong who deserve to."

[Zalphon]

Chapter One: The Beauty of Death - Part I

The sounds of the flowing river created a soothing ambience. It was relaxing and in a strange way, it was hypnotic. “What are you doing here?” a voice interrupted on my serenity. It was a voice which demanded attention.

My grip on the dagger tightened as I turned around to see who was speaking to me. The man staring at me was a monstrous figure. His tightly-pulled skin was a pale grey and his eyes were a flushed scarlet. The silver hair falling from his head reached his shoulders and was matted with dirt and blood.

“I am hunting,” I softly said as I watched his reactions. “Why are you here?” He reacted with little movement other than taking a few steps closer. As the distance closed, my eyes noticed that his body was littered with scars.

“These canals are my home, Stranger.”

“Fair enough—what is your name?”

“I am Thanryn Broodikus, and yourself?” he asked. His raspy voice made him seem like he had spent a good time outside, too. As if this were a new home, because seldom did those who stayed indoors often gain that tone from the Ash-Storms.

“Minx…of a house I do not know.”

He looked appalled by the answer. Almost as if I had told him that I was a mythical creature. “That’s an unusual name for a daughter of Morrowind,” he paused momentarily. “And I assume you’re an orphan, yes?”

“Kar-Tolan named me Minx after an old friend of his,” I muttered. “That old lizard was crazier than a Khajiit, though.”

The old elf looked up at me curiously and shook his head, “You were raised by this ‘Kar-Tolan’, I’m assuming?”

“That’s a story for another time, Thanryn. Can you help me navigate these canals? I’m looking for an Argonian, an Altmer and two others.”

“Why are you looking for them?”

“If I told you, you’d call me a liar.”

“Try me.”

“I am being forced to fight for my life in a game of a Telvanni Lord’s. Sithron Kirth, I think his name was.”
“Sarthon. Sarthon Kirth is his name,” the Mer growled. “Follow close. I value the opportunity to meet Lord Kirth in person.” His eyes widened when I said the name Kirth. It was almost as if the fire of life had been reignited in this man’s spirit.

He began walking forward at a brisk pace and he stopped before a clay door. “Check in here.” When I pulled open the door, it felt weightless. I was stunned by what I found inside. An entire room had been tunneled into and lying inside was a human of some sort.

There was a small bookshelf with a few books. There was a pile of clothes in one of the rounded corners. In the furthest point in the room was a bedroll and gently resting in it was an Imperial. I think he seemed familiar, but I wasn’t too sure.

Only the head stuck out from under the blankets. I put the tip of the stiletto to the man’s throat and shoved him to wake him up. His eyes didn’t open—he just rest their motionlessly. This time I shoved more violently, but still not even a response.

With my freehand, I pulled the covers off of the Imperial. What I saw was something that I’ll never forget. His ribs were grotesquely ripped open and inside some of his organs were scratched open. Not cut—scratched. As I stared with a macabre fascination, Thanryn looked in and shook my shoulder.

“In all my years,” he muttered in disgust. “I have never seen something so…vile. I have even served at the Ghostgate, but not even there does something so monstrous happen.”

“This was one of the other contestants, I think.”

[Acadian]

And the mysteries continue! Here we get a name and gender for our protagonist as well as some hints of her origins. She seems to have gained an ally and even learned a touch more of her Telvanni contest master. Broodikus – a name steeped in Zalphon lore. Nice touch how Minx assesses that his voice marks him as having spent much time in the blowing ash of the outdoors.

[mALX]

That old lizard was crazier than a Khajiit, though.”

GAAAAH !!!

In all my years,” he muttered in disgust. “I have never seen something so…vile. I have even served at the Ghostgate, but not even there does something so monstrous happen.”

“This was one of the other contestants, I think.”

URK !! Gross, but very intriguing !! Great Write!

[Zalphon]

Chapter One: The Beauty of Death - Part II

Thanryn grabbed the corpse’s wrists and quickly dragged him out of the bed to the canal. With each step of the Dunmer’s, the trail of blood grew longer. After the corpse was right next to the canal, it was kicked in.

“Why did you do that?” I blurted. “He should be buried at least.”

The Mer did nothing, but motion for me to come closer. After I let out a weak sigh, I took a few steps closer and watched. The slaughterfish were ripping away chunks of flesh from his opened body. “Watch,” he whispered softly. “Through his death, they will live. In a way, he is giving back to the world which he took from to survive.”

I wanted to speak, but something told me not to. It was a different way of looking at things, but in its own way—it was serene. He was right; the Imperial was indeed giving back to the living creatures of Nirn. But such ways were so odd.

With another breath, he walked back into the room. There was a look of determination about him, as if he was looking for one specific thing. But what was it? When I looked back, he was pulling the books out and gently setting them down.

“What’re you looking for?”

Thanryn’s thin lips curled into a small grin as he reached in an arm’s length—likely he had found a hollow hiding spot. As his arm reached out, I noticed that his long fingers held a necklace of some sort. The black-metal chain was connected to a small face. Half of it matched the rest, but the other half was bright gold.

“What is that?”

“It is a rosary,” he explained. “The face is that of Lord Vivec, so that he may always see and guide my actions.” The tone in his voice was one of pride. As if following Vivec was something to be proud of.

“Come on,” I mumbled. “We need to find the other two.” He didn’t say anything, but I sensed by the frown that there was some disappointment. I just didn’t see the point in devoting one’s life to a god. I give prayer when I feel it right, because I feel it right—not because of some obligation.

I don’t know how much time passed as we trekked through the canals. Few things made any of the canals any different than any other. Occasionally some graffiti would be painted on in blood, but seldom was there anything interesting. As I took a step into another room, I found the Altmer Girl sitting against a wall farthest from the door.

She didn’t move much when she looked up at me. Her breathing was slow and labored and I could see that she wouldn’t live long. “What happened?” I questioned as I stepped closer. I noticed she was nursing her side and the entire left side of her blouse was drenched in blood.

“The Imperial,” she looked up at me with peaceful eyes. “He took a stab at my waist with his dirk.”

Thanryn’s interrupted me before I could speak, “He was—armed?” If the Argonian could do that against an armed man in good physical condition, what could she do against us? I had never been in a knife-fight and this man was an old pauper.

“Y-yes,” she coughed into her hand. “He am-ambushed me when I came in here.” The deep-red liquid truly contrasted to her bright yellow skin. This woman wasn’t going to live much longer. This was wrong. But this was Lord Kirth’s game.

I held the stiletto’s handle so tightly that my knuckles turned almost white. For what seemed like an eternity, I waited for her to close her eyes. She yawned and with that, I slid the dagger between her ribs—directly into her heart. For a moment, she got to look at me. It wasn’t a look of scorn, but of placid acceptance.

When the dagger slowly came out, it dripped with her blood. Then she simply fell to her side. Thanryn was screaming at me, but it’s as if his words went in one ear and out the other. All I could think about was what I had just done. What had I just done? I had taken her life. This wasn’t like how I pictured killing—I imagined it to be just a part of everyday life, not something so...gruesome.

The harsh sting of Broodikus’ slap pulled my mind away from her. And my fingers just let the blade go. “Why?” he asked through gritted teeth. “Why did you do it?” His eyes were completely focused on me.

I wanted to tell him I did it for her. I wanted to tell him, but the words just wouldn’t form in my mouth. My eyes moved from him back to her and I uttered at nothing more than a whisper’s volume, “What have I done?”

He looked down at her, “May you find peace in death, Altmer.” His hands grabbed her and dragged her to the canal. As I watched the slaughterfish go into a feeding-frenzy, all I could see in my mind was that look she gave me. There was no anger, but almost thanks. But that didn’t change how I felt. I felt like a monster—and maybe I was.

[Acadian]

Feeding the slaughterfish!

You are doing a nice job of painting the gray morals that Minx is struggling with.

[mALX]

“Watch,” he whispered softly. “Through his death, they will live. In a way, he is giving back to the world which he took from to survive.”

I absolutely love this line, this thought process!

The description of the Vivec amulet was great !!

I have to quote this whole section, this was a huge display of the protagonist's thought process here. A bit of the Kevorkian:

The harsh sting of Broodikus’ slap pulled my mind away from her. And my fingers just let the blade go. “Why?” he asked through gritted teeth. “Why did you do it?” His eyes were completely focused on me.

I wanted to tell him I did it for her. I wanted to tell him, but the words just wouldn’t form in my mouth. My eyes moved from him back to her and I uttered at nothing more than a whisper’s volume, “What have I done?”

He looked down at her, “May you find peace in death, Altmer.” His hands grabbed her and dragged her to the canal. As I watched the slaughterfish go into a feeding-frenzy, all I could see in my mind was that look she gave me. There was no anger, but almost thanks. But that didn’t change how I felt. I felt like a monster—and maybe I was.

You are building a complex character, as always - Love it !!!

This post has been edited by mALX: Aug 12 2012, 02:44 AM

[Zalphon]

Chapter One: The Beauty of Death - Part III

For what felt like hours passed as we stood there staring into the water. Even after only bones remained, we just were there silently. The soothing sounds of the Canal gave no peace this time. They had no hypnotic effect. All I could think about was what I had done.

“You did what you thought was best, right?” he asked. His voice had lost the anger. But his voice pulled me away from my thoughts.

I looked up to him with teary eyes and whispered, “I only did what I thought was right, Thanryn. She was going to die anyway.” No matter how fast I blinked my eyes, I still felt the burn of a tear against my cheeks. In a vain attempt to hide my shame, my body turned away from him.

“Have you ever heard of Restoration magic?”

“I just know there is magic. I’ve seen wizards fight in Sadrith Mora using fireballs and lightning bolts, but all I know is that they use magic.”

He knelt down and grabbed the stiletto and snapped his fingers. Then he snapped his finger and pulled the dagger sharply against the palm of his left hand. “What are you doing?” I blurted in shock. What was he doing? Had he lost his mind?

“Shush,” Broodikus muttered as he stared at the wound. He whispered something and then I watched his hand’s wounds close. It was as if nothing had ever happened to his hand. What had he just done? Was that even possible with magic?

“What did you just do?”

“I cast a spell to regenerate the damage done by the wound.”
“But how? I’ve never seen someone cast a spell to do something like that?”

“Magic can be manipulated in many ways, Minx. I am merely a minor practitioner, trained in a few spells to help with my line of work.”

“What exactly is your line of work?”

“I used to be a Buoyant Armiger.”

“What exactly is a Buoyant Armiger, Thanryn?”

He stared at me and calmly said, “There’s so much you have to learn about what it means to be Dunmer.” He didn’t say it condescendingly and for some reason I think he really did care. Why did he care so much? I was just some stranger to him.

We both stood there and looked into the canals. There wasn’t anything being said, but I felt close to Thanryn. Something about him really made me feel safe with him. Maybe it was that he was a Buoyant Armiger—whatever that meant. Or maybe it was that he genuinely seemed to be a good person.

That serenity was interrupted when I heard the throaty voice of Bray-Hul. “Bray-Hul has found you. Bray-Hul will kill you as she did with the others.”

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” Broodikus said. “We don’t have to fight. This doesn’t have to end like this.” As he finished the sentence, I watched the Argonian leap up and I scattered in an attempt to avoid the force of her mighty kick. A loud splash occurred and then I understood that she wasn’t aiming for me.

“We don’t have to fight, please—don’t make this be this way.”

“Bray-Hul knows how it must be. Your blood will run in the canals so that Bray-Hul may survive.” Her voice was emotionless. She had made no attempt to hide her intention; she was planning to kill me. But that couldn’t happen. I had to survive.

I darted for the dagger that he had dropped—what was only a few feet felt like a thousand miles. As I finally got my fingers around the hilt, I felt a set of claws dig into my shoulder and pull me back. Everything felt surreal as I was being jerked back. As if the world had slowed down. Maybe it was the adrenaline or maybe it was the realization that I could very well die down here—but I was filled with vigor I had never experienced.

As my body pulled away from Bray-Hul, I cringed from the pain of her claws raking my shoulder. I had to have the dagger. I needed it. My arm extended to reach the blade, but just as I was about to grab it—the agony of her claws shot up my arm as she scratched at it.

A kick pushed her back, but it also extended the length of her scratch. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I couldn’t stop. With a quick lunge, I had the dagger. “Surrender,” I barked with a ferocity that scared even myself. “Or I’ll kill you.” Quietly, she backed away.

I looked into the water to see a cloud of red. “No,” I shouted into the water as I shoved my hand into the water. A tight, bony grip grabbed around my wrist and he slowly emerged from beneath the water. As the Dunmer pulled himself up onto the walkway, he coughed up water and pointed to his leg.

On his leg was a slaughterfish that didn’t want to give up. With the dagger in hand, I plunged it into the beast and watched as what I was trying to avoid came to be. It bit down with all its might and fell lifelessly onto the walkway. Thanryn lost a chunk of flesh the size of my fist from his lower leg. He growled at the pain and then looked up to Bray-Hul.

The Argonian was charging at us. And with supernatural speed, he pulled the dagger out of the slaughterfish and threw it into her chest. It was amazing to see how accurate he was—right through the sternum. She died mid-run and collapsed into the canal.

“Are you…okay?” he coughed.

I simply nodded. Thanryn was covered in the needle-like bite marks of slaughterfish and missing a chunk of muscle from his leg—but he didn’t complain. He was more concerned with my well-being than his own. Why did he care so much?

It was right as that thought entered my mind that the bright light flashed and the world around me changed. The Canals dissolved into the fungal tower that I had known. It felt like an eternity ago, but in reality—it had been no more than a few hours. “I am pleased,” the unsettling voice of Kirth said as he slowly clapped. “You pushed yourself to limits I did not expect.”

“Where’s Thanryn?” I asked as I scanned the room for him. He wasn’t there. Had Kirth left him there to die?

“He’s in your quarters, Minx.”

“Does this mean you will teach me magic, Lord Kirth?”

“I will teach you nothing,” Sarthon explained. “I will give you the tools to make yourself a wizard unlike any before you, though.” What did he mean? He’d give me the tools? I traditionally thought an apprentice was taught under the watchful eye of their mentor.

“Rest, Apprentice,” he ordered. “For tomorrow, your new life begins. You will learn to value sleep as much as life itself, for this may be the last time you get the opportunity for quite some time.”

I tried to ask him a question, but my energy suddenly felt drained out of me. When I attempted to speak, I just collapsed. My mind was taken captive by my dreams…the horrible dreams.

[mALX]

Loved the whole conversation leading up to Broodikus's lesson in healing, and his explanation for how healing magic works! A Buoyant Armiger, and that explains his chivalrous attitude. You just made my day !!!!!!! AWESOME !!!! That is exciting !!

LOVED this line:

“I will teach you nothing,” Sarthon explained. “I will give you the tools to make yourself a wizard unlike any before you, though.”

Awesome Write, Zalphon !!

[Acadian]

So Minx has survived, and therefore ‘wins’ the contest to be Kirth’s new apprentice. It was nicely presented that she was unfamiliar with the existence of restorative healing. Well, she knows about it now! And her new friend is quite a mystery still.

[Zalphon]

Chapter Two: The Grimoire of Pure Arcana

As I stirred into the world of the living, my blankets and robes were drenched in sweat. My muscles were so tight that it hurt and my mind was racing. But what I dreamt of that had me so tense? What had created such stress in my mind that I could just forget it?

I looked around the dark room to see Thanryn. But he wasn’t dressed in rags anymore. He was dressed in a suit of armor that I would occasionally see adventurers walk in. The only piece he wasn’t wearing was the helmet, which sat at his side. Chitin was the name of it, I think. In a way, the armor gave him a majestic look. He didn’t look like a street urchin anymore, but a hero like in stories.

He was kneeling peacefully and holding the amulet in his hands. I noticed his lips were moving; I could only assume he was giving prayers to Vivec. My arms pushed the thin sheets away and I sat up, my eyes never moving from him. Eventually he tucked the rosary into the cuirass and pulled a whetstone out of a knapsack. With one hand, he held a short sword and with the other, he sharpened it.

“Thanryn?” I called out as I approached. “Where did you get the armor?” He looked up from the blade and to me. It was a beautiful sword made of bright silver.

His eyes dropped to his weapon. “Lord Kirth agreed that you need protection and allowed me to take from the arsenal of a few dead thieves,” he explained. His tone was not backed by a sense of pride like it usually was. He seemed almost ashamed.

“So…why did you want to meet Lord Kirth?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t,” he snapped. “If I wanted to talk about why, I would probably tell you about it in the first place.” The man looked back down to his sword and started to use the whetstone more rapidly. I could see the frustration in Thanryn’s face as he mercilessly struck the stone against the blade.

It was as I began to walk away that a flash of bright light blinded me and then the world started to change around me. The beds, dressers, basins and nightstands all changed into what appeared to be a study. Lining the walls were bookcases upon bookcases, each filled and not a single duplicate to be found.

“You did not sleep well?” the cold voice of Sarthon asked. He was sitting at a rather exquisite desk with a book that looked to be centuries old in his hands. Beside him was a small, carnelian-orange humanoid with furry legs and long ears.

“N-no,” I shook my head. “I was quite—uneasy due to the dreams.” He gently placed a strand of cloth in the book and looked up at me. His blood-red eyes stared into my soul, or at least it felt that way. As if he was searching for weakness—any reason to just strike me down where I stood.

“That is truly a shame, Pupil. I have your first spellbook for you to study from.” When he lifted his hand as if about to grab a book—one simply appeared in his grasp. It was strange to see magic used in ways other than killing. Why didn’t mages ever use this kind of magic more often?

With slow footsteps, I came closer and grabbed it from him. It was strange to touch the black-leather binding, but in a way it was exhilarating. Emblazoned in the spine were words with a faint, blue glow. They said in the language of the Daedra: “The Grimoire of True Arcana”. I could feel the raw energy rippling through it and this was only the cover, not yet had I even opened the book.

“Lord Kirth, do grimoires typically contain magic that is often—unwise to study? That’s what I’ve always heard from adventurers in taverns.”

“I gave you my word that I would give you the tools to make yourself into a wizard unlike no other,” he explained. “It is indeed ripe with knowledge many consider to be forbidden—but you are Telvanni, not a meek neophyte.”

“You call me ‘Telvanni’, but what does that word even mean?”

“It means you recognize that you have the right to take what you want, because you have power. The Telvanni Way of Life is focused on power. If you have more than someone, you have the right to take from them or even kill them.”

I looked down to the Grimoire and smiled. “When may I begin my studies, Lord Kirth?”

“Immediately. You are welcome to study as long as you wish and to do as you wish—as long as your tasks are completed.”

“When will I be given tasks?”

“When I need something to be done and feel it would be most beneficial to use you, rather than one of my other servants.”

“I understand,” I said as I walked away. As I was walking away, the only thing on my mind was the thoughts of finally getting to read the contents of this spellbook. Somehow, I found my way back to my quarters.

Thanryn looked up at me, but said nothing and I simply planted myself on my bed. My legs were criss-cross as I sat down and I opened the book to the first page. I saw someone suddenly appear standing in front of me. The ghostly figure standing near me was dressed in robes as black as night and not a single inch of his body was visible beneath the clothing.

In a startled fright, I jumped back away from him. Then his head moved to look at me—I think. I could not see his eyes beneath the black veil he wore. “You have summoned me?” his hoarse voice managed to say. “Who are you?”

Through him, I saw Thanryn preparing to impale the specter. And then I watched as it extended its open palm to him and I saw him collapse in his footsteps. “Do not test your strength against me,” the Apparition stated when it looked back to him. “You will stay down until I am done speaking to her. When I am done, you may have control of your body back.”

Fear circulated through my body. I was barely able to speak, “I-I-I am M-Minx. Wh-who are you?”

“I am Seryn Tamarion.”

“W-why are you here?”

“I am the sworn guardian of the magic within the Grimoire.”

“Why would a spellbook need a guardian?”

“There are things that I inscribed within that need to be watched. That I need to ensure do not fall into the
wrong hands.”

Thanryn struggled to speak with his locked teeth, “Define the wrong hands.”

The Apparition looked down at him and said, “The magic within the Grimoire is not to be taken lightly—I am not going to allow that magic to fall into the hands of a power-hungry fool.”

His faceless gaze moved from him to me. “I will allow you to study, but you will do it under my tutelage. Are we clear?” His hoarse voice gained a sense of authority as well—why did so many people take tones of authority with me?

“I understand, Seryn,” I muttered. In all the confusion, I had not even had the chance to even take a glimpse of the page below. The parchment was pristine save for the writing on it. Written in the very center in a deep-red ink were the words, “Magic opens all doors, even those we wish to keep closed.” Was this a warning
to readers or was Seryn trying to say something else? I looked up to him and he merely turned the page.

On the next page was something that seemed to take up two pages. The illustration in the center of the two pages was that of a violet flame and it was an illustration that came to life. “Wh-what is this?” I asked, appalled that the picture had become real just above the book.

“Touch it,” Tamarion ordered. “Experience the spell so that you may truly understand what it is capable of. The spells you experience will not kill you due to the wards inscribed within the Grimoire.”

“Touch the fire? Are you kidding?”

He simply shook his head and pointed his finger to the fire. Nervously, I dipped the tip of my finger into the magical flame. That was when I was engulfed in something far worse than I had ever imagined. Every fiber of my being felt as if it were being heated in the forges of the Dead Lands. I tried to scream, but no sound came out.

Then the pain stopped, but the memory was enough to keep my body on edge. “W-what was that?”

“That was a mere glimpse of the power of magic. That was not the first spell you will learn, but you now know why I protect the magic within so fiercely.”

“What was the name of that spell?”

“Mindfire. The spell itself is not lethal. It is the shock from the spell that kills.”

“So you’re telling me that entire spell operates under the illusion of pain? Just an illusion—nothing really happened?”

“Exactly. You were forced to imagine and feel as if every part of your body was being heated to temperatures that would melt the strongest steels instantly.”

That’s inhumane,” Thanryn barked. Apparently at some point he had been released, but I was so fascinated by the Grimoire that I didn’t even notice. I could see the disgust in his eyes when he looked at Tamarion.

“Mindfire is quick, efficient and subtle,” the Specter rebutted. “Running a sword through someone—they may bleed out for even hours. At least with Mindfire, I have no fear of them languishing in pain—not that I ever did in the first place.” If it weren’t for his aloof tone, I would have predicted a smirk under his veil.

Thanryn simply glared and began sharpening a dagger. Then the Specter turned the page and on a single page was the drawing of a bright-orange orb surrounded by matching flames. Like the previous spell—it came to life before me. “This is a fireball spell, right?”

“It is flare, one of the most basic destruction spells to learn.” He motioned for me to touch the flame and I couldn’t. Not after the Mindfire. While the agony was only a memory—it was so recent that it felt as if it was just waiting to debilitate me again.

“Flare is much less painful than Mindfire and less effective—but it is fundamental to learning more about Destruction Magic.”

I shook my head, “No—no…it’s not worth it. No more pain.” The Specter grabbed my hand and in the corner of my eye, I saw Thanryn charge again. And once again, he collapsed in his path.

“Continue with your antics, Warrior,” Seryn threatened. “And I’ll use Mindfire on you.”

The Buoyant Armiger replied through locked teeth yet again, “Have you no honor? Bullying a child into playing your games?”

With a sigh, I pulled my hand away from Tamarion’s grip and shoved it into the flame—if only to stop their fighting. That’s when I felt the force of a hardy punch to my chest, followed by blistering heat. “Son of an N’wah!” I swore. The ball of fire hurt, but it pulled my mind away from my memories of the spell before it.

“That spell is to merely wet your tongue to Destruction Magic.”

“Wet my tongue? It’s repulsing to feel how much it hurts,” I growled as I rubbed where I had been burned. There were no blisters—but the pain still lasted. What was the point of the lasting pain?

“The path you’re walking will bring you a great many foes—you’ll need to learn how to kill them. Flare’s one of the most basic spells.”

Before I could respond, he placed his finger on the deep-red words written around the image. The image had died back down. “Mico de Ignis” was written around the image in Daedric. “Is that the phrase—for the spell?”

“Say the words.”

“Mico de Ignis,” I said slowly. I wanted to see it happen, but I was afraid. I didn’t want to damage the room—lest I gain the wrath of Kirth or hurt Thanryn.

“You must speak them with desire to see it happen,” Broodikus intruded. “Imagine the spell as the only thing that matters—the difference between life and death.” Apparently he had been released again, because he managed to speak freely and he was standing.

This time, I imagined I was casting it at Bray-Hul. “Mico de Ignis,” I shouted with my palms outstretched. To my surprise, I saw a ball of flame appear in front of my palms and launch forward. Reactively, Seryn created a ward in front of my spell. The invisible, cyan-outlined oval consumed the little orb of flame.

“How did you do that, Seryn?” I asked with a look of surprise. I knew he was a far more experienced practitioner of magic than me, but he didn’t even speak any words. I thought that was a universal trait of spell-casters.

“When one has spent centuries studying the Arcane,” he muttered apathetically. “You learn how to cast spells in ways that are easier and less taxing. Wards are very simple spells—you simply create a vacuum of magic.”
“What do you mean—a vacuum of magic?”

“You siphon the magic out of an area and then return it in a ‘pocket’-fashion as I did. It’ll absorb what enters and what enters will disperse harmlessly.”

I didn’t entirely understand how it worked, but I just nodded. I knew if I continued to speak on the matter, he’d likely make me experience what it’s like to be in one of these pockets. And if it was anything like Mindfire or Flare, I wanted nothing to do with it.

He looked down and on the page to the right of Flare appeared a spell. But the parchment had been blank. What just happened? Suddenly there was an illustration of a soft, blue flash and around it were the words written in Daedric: “Restoratio Labecula”. Why was the wording to magic so strange?

And like all the other spells, the illustration came to life. A dim, blue orb appeared above the pages. “Touch it—unlike the others, this will not hurt.” I still didn’t want to touch it. He said flare didn’t hurt too much. At least not in comparison to the other spell, but being burnt with blistering wasn’t exactly comforting.

I struggled to touch the lively illustration. But when I did, it felt strange. Not in a bad way, but I felt a warmth all around me. It was a soft warmth, but everything did seem better. Was this Restoration Magic? If it was—why didn’t more people practice it?

Then the warmth disappeared. “What was that?”

Seryn tried to speak, but was quickly interrupted by Thanryn. “That was a restoration spell—a very minor one, typically taught to laymen in the Temple.” That was the Art of a Healer? What was the point of Destruction Magic if we could just be peaceful?

“Why do we practice Destruction Magic?”

“Because this world is made of two kinds of people,” Broodikus bitterly grumbled. “Monsters and then the rest of us are who compose the world. We need a way to fight them; that is our way.”

“What do you mean monsters?”

“The scum of the world are monsters. A great example would be Lord Kirth.”

“Why do you call him a monster?”

“I’ve seen the things he’s done. The people he’s killed—he’s one of the truest kinds of monsters. He is the kind that truly doesn’t care who he harms; he just cares for himself.”

Maybe he was right. Four people did die for the “privilege” to be his apprentice. But did that mean he was a monster or did it mean he was something else? Was it for a cause or just his own lust for power? And was I becoming more like him with my lust to study the Grimoire?

The Specter looked to Thanryn, “Wound yourself or her. She needs to have a subject to test her healing capabilities on.”

The Buoyant Armiger scowled, but he was obedient. He slid off his left gauntlet and once again cut his hand in a diagonal slash. It was quick and efficient, but also somewhat deep. “Speak the words, Pupil.”

I concentrated and imagined the wound being much more dire than it was. As if Thanryn’s life hung by a thread, by my success or failure. Then I uttered the words, “Restoratio Labecula.” What I saw was not what I had hoped for. His hand was still bleeding and he only looked up at me with a warm smile, a smile that said: “You did your best, it’ll be alright.”

“Try again, but rest your hand on his wound,” the Specter ordered. “The magic will be less likely to disperse if closer to its destination.”

I took a step towards Thanryn and he softly smiled as he extended his hand. I felt the crevice carved in his hand was slowly pouring blood onto my hand when I grabbed it. The warmth of his blood covered my palms and then I uttered the words, “Restoratio Labecula.” I felt the crevice in his hand pull itself closed; I couldn’t help but grin at my progress.

“Well done, Minx,” Broodikus nodded. He grabbed a rag and rubbed the blood off his hand and slid the gauntlet back on. His eyes averted from the gauntlet up to Seryn and I could tell he was trying to predict the Specter’s next actions. What he did surprised me; he slammed the book shut and handed it to me.
“Are we done with our studies?”

“For now—you need rest. Your body will be physically drained from the magic once the adrenaline wears off.”
“Why would my body be drained?”

“You’ve just begun the path of the Magi. As you grow in power, your body will be able to sustain greater channeling of magic.”

“Why wouldn’t it be able to handle it now?”

“The holes to Aetherius allow us to cast spells—your body has never used what has soaked in. As you use it more and more, you’ll be able to take in more.”

“What’s Aetherius?”

“In due time, you will learn child. Now rest.”

I obediently went to my bed, but I didn’t want to quit learning. That was so fascinating and these were just my first footsteps into this world. With enough time, I believed actually understand why magic works as it does. My eyelids fell down, regardless of how much I wanted to fight sleep.

I found myself sitting in a dark room with my legs criss-cross. The weight of cold, steel shackles binding my wrists kept me confined to the stone beneath me. “Where am I?” I shouted into the blackness. “And what am I doing here?”

“You are exactly where you need to be, Young Magi,” a deep, grandfatherly voice said. “I have come to ask why you are in possession of the Grimoire.” The voice seemed to originate from all around me, but how was that possible? And no matter where I looked—I just saw blackness. It was as if I had gone blind or if this place was completely void of light.

“The Grimoire holds the secrets of magic and I wish to learn them.”

“Very well, Young Magi—but do know that I will be watching.”

“Who are you, Strange Watcher?”

I sat there for what felt like hours waiting for a response. There was no sound—only a deathly silence. I was left there waiting—hoping he’d at least acknowledge what I had said. Or at the very least confirm that he was still there. But I got no such assurance—I was simply left chained to a stone floor in a place where I could see nothing. What was going to become of me was a question I desperately wished to know the answer to, but only time would tell.

[mALX]

As I stirred into the world of the living, my blankets and robes were drenched in sweat. My muscles were so tight that it hurt and my mind was racing. But what I dreamt of that had me so tense?

I absolutely love this opening line! Powerful entry into the chapter!

In a way, the armor gave him a majestic look

The man looked back down to his sword and started to use the whetstone more rapidly.

Great descriptions and details!

With slow footsteps, I came closer and grabbed it from him. It was strange to touch the black-leather binding, but in a way it was exhilarating. Emblazoned in the spine were words with a faint, blue glow. They said in the language of the Daedra: “The Grimoire of True Arcana”. I could feel the raw energy rippling through it and this was only the cover, not yet had I even opened the book.

This whole paragraph is a testament to your ability, Zalphon. Awesome write!

This chapter was huge, way too big to be reading in one sitting (free time available/eye strain). The content and writing is some of the best you've ever done though. Excellent Write, Zalphon! You are acing this story big time!


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This post has been edited by mALX: Aug 15 2012, 07:41 AM

[McBadgere]

Well done matey!!...

I have read all of this story even though I was a bad man for not telling you so... ...

This last chapter though was brilliant...Amazing stuff...

Definately loved the Mindfire spell...Clever that...Loved all of the magic talk...Brilliantly worked out...Excellent stuff...Loved the Grimoire Guardian...He was cool!... ...

Oh, I loved that bit in the earlier chapter when Tharynn was more worried about Minx than the great big hole in his leg... ...Wonderful!...

Being Morrowind based, it really does have a different feel to some of the others about...What's a Buoyant Arminger btw?...Definately going to keep up with this...

Brilliant stuff matey!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...