The man with green eyes, A story of a man Options

[McBadgere]

Ooooh...As has been evidenced elsewhere, vampires are not my favourite thing about the ES series... ...

However, I thoroughly enjoyed this...*Applauds*...

Proper brilliant writing... ...

Awesome stuff...

Looking forward to much more...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[Saquira]

I've been deliberating for a while on whether or not to post this. It's something small for now, but might maybe/possibly turn into its very own story eventually. A story that stars Sorcalin as the employer and background player, and the five in the scene as the main characters. Initially, anyway. This scene plays out at some point during the fourth era, between the years 30 and 34, which is the time that the corresponding chapter will eventually span.

I've also got a document half written up in which I explain the lifespans of the different races and a bit about how they're affected by their surroundings. It's an annoyance for me because I know I've written it up before, but I can't find the paper for the life of me and I don't remember exactly what I wrote. So yes, it might in some ways be completely at odds with stuff that I've written now, and I'm gonna be really pissed if I do eventually find that paper. Which is kind of why I wish I won't.

But well, I digress. So here follows the scene in which the Misfits becomes known as the Misfits amongst themselves and Sorcalin is generally creepy.

Misfits of Tamriel
4E 30 – 34

Narves and Hlanain were discussing something when they finally entered the room in which Caoilinn, Trip and Lost had all assembled. While Hlanain argued animatedly, Narves listened on with poorly hidden amusement only to loose his brothers attention when Hlanain noticed the presence of their colleagues in the room.

"Don't you think we should have a name?" he asked. Lost snorted in amusement as Caoilinn raised her eyes from their game of chess to meet the dunmers gaze.

"What do you mean, a name?" she asked as Lost moved another of his white pieces.

"Something to call the group. A name for our enemies to fear!" This time it was Trip who snorted whilst Caoilinn merely looked at him pointedly. "Now that I think about it, we should probably have alternate names to call each other as well, just in case any papers that could incriminate us were ever found."

"A group name. What, something like 'Sorcalin's Rogues'?" Trip piped in, and once again Hlanains attention switched focus. Caoilinn shook her head in exasperation as her attention returned to the board and she moved another piece.

"Yes! But something that sounds better and doesn't implicate anyone. Like, the Hounds of the Underworld, or the Avengers of Talos." Caoilinn looked up, staring at the Dunmer with blatant disbelief.

"Misfits of Tamriel," Narves muttered from his spot overlooking the room, not at all seriously, and Hlanain and Caoilinn fell silent in contemplation. Trip only stared at them in silence for a moment before she was unable to hold her tongue any longer.

"Seriously, you're considering that?!"

"It's a fitting name," Hlanain commented as Trip rolled her eyes.

"Too fitting, it'll tell everyone who we are," she said, and the room fell silent as all of them looked at Trip. After a few moments of shock the whole group nodded in agreement, and Trip smiled contentedly before looking down at the chessboard. Her gaze swept across it twice before she tapped Lost on the shoulder. He turned his head in her direction, still angled towards the board but eyes fixed on the young girl. "You can take her queen," Trip said and he turned back to the board as Caoilinn glared at Trip. The girl merely smiled and winked at the older woman, and the Bosmer turned back to the board in time to see Lost grabbing the black queen and tapping the table once to say chess. Caoilinn huffed out a breath of air in frustration, looking over the board with keen eyes to find the best way to get out of the situation.

"Check mate," she suddenly said as she moved her tower to two tiles in front of his king, effectively trapping him now that the knight that had guarded the position had changed place. Lost's eyes widened for a moment in surprise, then both of the players turned their eyes to Trip who was smirking at the both of them.

"Never said you'd win if you took the queen," the young girl quipped before turning on her heel and heading towards the dunmeri brothers.

"Well, Misfits. Everyone's ready, I hope." Trip hadn't gotten very far when Sorcalin came down the stairs. All five of them looked at him in shock at the address, Hlanain even went so far as to gape before he regained the use of his tongue.

"Seriously, how did you know that?" he asked, starring at the Altmer. Sorcalin merely sent him an indulgent smile before continuing down the rest of the way, looking around to make sure that everyone had arrived.

This post has been edited by Saquira: Apr 14 2015, 11:48 AM

[McBadgere]

Excellent stuff...Will look forward to this for as and when you do some more.. ...

I do loves a good team type story... ...

Actually, this reminds me of the A-Team when Robert Vaughn was in charge for the last series!...

Oh...

Wait...

You will have no idea what I'm on about... ...Hey-ho...Trust me, this is good... ...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[Saquira]

Thank you, McBadgere I actually have seen a couple of episodes of the A-Team, and I think that show's great. So that's really nice to hear. I'm fairly certain I haven't seen any of the episodes with Robert Vaughn, but I've seen him in Hustle and he's a great actor.

Life Expectancy in Tamriel:

Altmer: Though all mer are capable of living for a thousand years, several thousands sometimes, the Altmer are the ones who most regularly does. Because of their natural inclination towards the arcane arts and their more "civil lives" they're also more inclined towards avoiding disease and are not as badly affected by injuries. Phynaster is also said to have taught the Altmer how to live for another hundred years. It isn't rare to meet someone who's lived for longer than 400. However, as a consequence, they don't have children as often as the other elves.

Dunmer: The Dunmer can live for 1000 years, but because of the living conditions of the Ashlands, the Corprus disease and the constant infighting it's rare that they do, even rarer that they die of natural causes.

Bosmer: Living in the wilderness for the most part, the Bosmer are more susceptible to die of disease or injury than the other elves, though the fact that they stay very active their whole lives and doesn't eat very unhealthy food makes up for it.

Orsimer: Though they don't live as long as the other elves, there's Orsimer who've lived for as long as 400 years. They're mainly a warring people and as such they rarely live to be longer than a hundred.
Imperial, Redguards & Nords: Humans in general do very rarely surpass 100 years. Most doesn't live longer than 60 or 80, shorter if they live a warriors life. Infant fatalities are also fairly high because most people can't afford a healer. The high quality life that many Imperials live however increases their chances of living longer.

Breton: The Bretons are sometimes referred to as Manmeri, and it's reflected in their age. Bretons can live several decades longer than other humans. They're also very proficient with magic and as such are more likely to survive wounds, disease and childbirth which is why they're the one race in Tamriel that most often dies of old age.

Argonian: Because of their increased resistance towards diseases and poisons, and their ability to breathe underwater, the Argonians who stay in their native lands are quite long lived. They can live for several hundred years if they stay in Black Marsh since that's the very specific climate that their bodies have adapted to. Argonians outside Black Marsh rarely live longer than your average human.
Note: Very little information considering Argonian aging is given in the games, so I've taken some liberties with incorporating what i know of actual reptiles. Of course, I have no idea how an actual human sized reptile would even function, but age and well-being for reptiles is very dependent on their environment and what they eat. So I figure something similar with Argonians wouldn't be too farfetched.

Khajiit: The khajiit have never been a long lived people. Though their age depends on which breed they belong to a khajiit rarely lives over 90. With their warring and thieving nature, they rarely die of natural causes. Dying from dehydration or starvation isn't rare either in their homeland, as bandits have a tendency to leave their victims stranded rather than just kill them.

[McBadgere]

Nicely worked out...Like the way you've figured this...

Nice one!!...

*applauds heartily*...

[Saquira]

This scene follows almost directly after the one I posted back in December 2013, in which Elyzara Moorhart came out of the ground after being confined to a wooden box for two centuries. Sorcalin has about as much of a role in the second part as he did in the first, but this isn't just about Sorcalin's life any longer. It's also about the Moorhart siblings and the Glenmoril Coven. This scene is probably the last time Elyzara speaks with her brother before her death, and as complicated as the relationships between these three are I had a lot of fun writing this. However, I'm afraid only one of them will be surviving into the fourth era.

I'm working on two(three) more posts that might be seeing the light of day fairly soon. The first is the story of how exactly Sorcalin became a vampire and why he did not seek out a cure, which I'll probably be splitting into two parts since it seems to be getting quite long. And the second is a more in-depth description of the Glenmoril Coven in my version of the Elder Scrolls universe, as well as the specific abilities of the vampires who belong to the coven.

3E – 253, 12th Sun’s Dawn

Part 2

The sun was standing low in the sky by the time she approached the pavilion which her brother had apparently taken to using as his office. It was closed off from the rest of the building by a heavy wooden door, and in the time she’d been kept under ground no sign had been put up to tell that her brother had taken over the room. Only because Leon had told her did she now know that this was where her twin resided, and that thought stung no matter how she thought of it.

She knocked only twice on the door and did not wait for his call before stepping inside, and though she clearly heard his exasperated sigh at her manners she did not look at him as her gaze took in the old room.

Though the furniture and decorations had changed, the shape and layout of the room had remained largely the same over the last two hundred years. A short path lined by glass walls led out to the circular room that was almost completely encased in transparent glass panels to let in the light but prevent the rays from burning the inhabitants of the room. A couple of low bookshelves were placed by the walls, and a large desk faced the doors with a couple of chairs having been placed in front of it. A cupboard with glass panes in the doors held glasses and a few bottles of wine, and several pots with plants were placed around the room.

Finally, her eyes landed on him, and he was watching her openly with his crimson eyes. Periene had hardly changed in the many years since they’d last seen each other. His clothing was radically different of course, but his face was lined by the same smooth lines and he still held the same stature. He'd cut his red hair shorter since they last met, but his eyes were neither lighter nor darker, and he still made no effort to conceal them unless he had to. Now they watched her with far more wariness than she'd ever expected they could.

He was composed, pragmatic and had little patience for emotional fools. All traits she admired, none that she shared. And for that she loathed them as well. The only thing marking them as anything but polite acquaintances was their blood, as well as the status and physical traits that accompanied it. Though with the passing of two centuries her ambitious brother was certain to have far surpassed her when it came to their respective status within the coven.

“So, our mother's pavilion,” she stated simply as her eyes met his and he raised his eyebrows in a silent question. “I did not expect that it'd ever see much use.”

“Well, after our fathers death there truly wasn't much reason to keep it locked any longer,” he uttered, and Elyzara nodded slowly as she hummed in agreement.

“Indeed, Leon told me of that. He did not tell me of our sisters however, where are they?” she asked. Periene sighed, finally dropping the quill he held in his hand, and rested his elbows on the desk as he leant slightly forward.

“Lysee passed away in 127. She never wanted to become a vampire, and so she stayed human until the end. Morgan, the last time I heard from her some 23 years ago, was in Sentinel. Assuming of course that I remember correctly. I believe she was looking into acquiring some rare old book, she's always liked those after all.” Elyzara's lips pursed as she sunk down into one of the chairs in front of the desk, her eyes narrowing into a glare as they looked at each other.

“Lysee died of old age. You did not make her a vampire?” she asked angrily, her fury only increasing as her brother continued to watch her impassively.

“She did not wish to share our existence, and neither I nor Morgan were inclined to force the matter,” he said with a shrug, as if though that was all there was to it. But Elyzara was not so easy to appease.

“Morgan I can understand, she has always coddled our youngest sister. But you... I expected more from you,” Elyzara growled through gritted teeth as her brothers expression grew harder and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

“I would never perform such heinous an act as turning someone against their will, sister. We have our rules for a reason, and I've no intention of breaking them. You'd do well to follow them from here on out if you wish to stay out of that box.” Elyzara let out a startled laugh at his words, her lips forming a grimace as she rose from the chair abruptly to lean in over the desk.

“You would put me back there?! Your twin? Is this your way of telling me to stay away from Sorcalin, or else..?” she growled out.

“You may have been a vampire longer than him, but he's still older. And he hasn't spent the last two centuries in a wooden box. He would see you coming, and the coven would not only loose an asset, I would loose a sister. I will not let more of my family die,” Periene said, finally raising his voice in the first expression of anger he'd expressed for a very long time. But not even in the face of his anger did she falter.

“You think so little of me..? Is that it? Well I hardly need your blessing to shed blood, brother,” she spat out, not giving him any opportunity to speak as she pushed herself away from the desk and headed for the door. He considered stopping her, but gave it up as a useless endeavour as he settled back in his chair and she left through the door in a rage.

Periene found himself watching the door for a whole minute after his sister had once again passed through it, then he rolled his eyes to give voice to his frustration as he turned his eyes from the door to the small hand-held mirror lying upon his desk. He was already calling on the spell when his hand touched the silver frame, hushed words slipping from his lips without hesitation as the surface of the mirror grew murky. A couple of minutes passed while he sat waiting, until finally the reflective surface cleared and showed not his own face but instead a stone roof and a glimpse of bookshelves along the edges. The only sign of his discontent was the downward twitch of his lips as he had to wait yet another couple of minutes before a female face appeared above the mirror, looking down into it curiously. He noted the cropped brown hair and the smudge of ink upon her cheek with silent displeasure as her brows rose in surprise at the sight of him.

“You've cut your hair.” It occurred to Periene that it was not the best greeting he could have offered her, but he knew just as well that no amount of pretty words would enamour her to him. An annoyed expression came upon her face at the comment before turning into a faintly visible sneer as she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Indeed, I did it myself. Do you like it?” she asked mockingly, being more than aware of his views on the matter. Though he felt the slow burn of the anger only his youngest sister could call forth, he did his best to ignore it in light of the favour he wished to ask of her.

“Cropping ones hair is not...” He hardly had time to get started before she interrupted him.

“...Is not fitting for a lady of the Moorhart family, nor for a vampire of the Glenmoril coven. Did I forget any part of the lecture, or is there anything more you need to remind me of?” He pursed his lips, but refrained from answering. “Now, why did you call me brother? Is it 253 already?”

“You forgot what year it is?” he asked in disbelief, his brows furrowing as he looked at her. She visibly gritted her teeth, huffing out a breath as the view changed angle as she picked up her mirror and sat down in a chair.

“I've more important things to think about. What is a year here or there when you've got an eternity to look forward too? I assume however that you're contacting me to discuss Zara. Her sentence was settled at 200 years, was it not?” The brunette let go of her annoyance quickly, her face taking on the same neutral expression that tended to occupy his face most of the time.

“Indeed it was. And I just finished a pleasant conversation during which she could think of little else but the murder of her former beloved.” Periene found himself rolling his eyes as he lifted his mirror further and leaned back slightly in his chair, making sure that the mirror still captured his face.

“That sounds like Zara. What I don't understand is why you are coming to me.” Her voice hardly changed, her lips forming a slight genuine smile for barely a moment before the political expression was back.

“You were always able to rein her in, in the past. I believe the coven will require your aid in doing so once again,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders, and had to fight to keep his annoyance hidden when she rolled her eyes.

“And what makes you think I would wish to help the coven?” she asked with a sigh.

“You and I may not get along, sister, but we are still family. The coven is family.” Periene was once again reminded of why it'd been 23 years since they last spoke as he raised his hand to rub at his forehead in an attempt to stave of the inevitable head ache he'd come to associate with family. He looked back at the mirror just in time to notice the tight set of her jaw and the hateful glare in her eyes before she spoke once again.

“Then tell me brother, how many witches have the coven lost in last ten years? How many hagravens have been born? How many vampires of the Wyrd have succumbed to their blood lust and gone feral?” she practically growled out, and for a moment he almost expected her to bare her fangs at him.

“Morgan...” he began in exasperation, but she shook her head abruptly to stop him as his eyes lingered on the growing moisture in her eyes.

“Save your petty excuses, brother. I will tell Sorcalin she's coming for him. But I'll be doing it for him, not for the coven,” she ground out through her teeth and Periene nodded, content to take whatever small victory he'd ever be allowed to have by his younger sister.

“Very well. I'm certain that the elders will be grateful. I only wish you would not distrust us so,” he said, already thinking on the letters he'd have to send before the days end to tell the elders of what had transpired.

“Whatever trust I ever had for the coven disappeared a century ago, you know that.” When he once again turned his eyes to meet hers, neither the anger in her eyes nor the sorrow in his was concealed. He nodded once, not having anything else to say on the matter. The anger dissipated from her eyes quickly to be replaced by sadness. “Well brother. As I assume that was all you wished to speak of, I'll be going. Do take care of yourself.” She didn't give him any time to speak before the image disappeared and he found himself staring down at his own face.

“And you as well, sister,” he uttered quietly into the empty room, hand reaching out to put the mirror back down onto the desk. Then his elbows came to rest upon the wooden surface as he rested his head in his hands in a rare moment of weakness before once again schooling his expression and turning back to the many documents before him.

This post has been edited by Saquira: Jul 16 2016, 11:19 AM