Tarvyn Dralor: Caught in the Web Options

[Darkness Eternal]

The scream part was well-done! Goes to show how relentless the Daedra are and just how important it is that they must be stopped. I was on edge! It creeped me out. You did good to jump into another character's head. It gives us more vantage points from the story, too. It also gave us insight and more understanding of our known characters!



This post has been edited by Darkness Eternal: Oct 27 2014, 11:32 PM

[Callidus Thorn]

Right, time to kick this back to life, again.

NaNoWriMo kinda left me a little burned out where writing was concerned, but now I'm back to it.

This is the last part of it that I wrote before NaNoWriMo, and I'd intended to add to it but didn't get the chance. So I've edited it, added a little, and I'm pretty much using it as an excuse not to write up some of the Mage's guild quests again.

So, we're back with Tarvyn briefly, we'll be bouncing off again for the next part.


Cheydinhal Mages Guild, basement, seven days after the fall of Kvatch.

Tarvyn sat back in his chair, feet resting on what had been, until yesterday, Falcar's desk. The treacherous Altmer had terrorised the guildhall that was his responsibility, had killed at least one apprentice, and had tried to do the same to Tarvyn. It had taken every other mage in the Cheydinhal guildhall to oust Falcar, while Tarvyn had been completing his assignment. But while the others had been relieved, Tarvyn was disgusted.

House Telvanni and the Morag Tong had a few qualities that they shared, and foremost of these was self-reliance. The Morag Tong might send a backup on assignments, but only to ensure completion, not to aid the primary. And the aspiring member of House Telvanni who stopped watching their allies as keenly as their enemies found little difference between the two. To be a Magister of House Telvanni was to be a wellspring of personal power, able to stand alone against your peers, at least to the extent of making any conflict too expensive or risky to pursue. And to be a Master of the Morag Tong was to be a solitary, unstoppable, knife in the dark, whose presence was marked only by the body left behind.

The Mages Guild on the other hand, were inept simpletons bought together by dependency. Teekeeus at Chorrol; unable to settle a matter with an old rival. Frasoric at Bruma; so magically inept that she was tormented by a pair of pranksters. And now Falcar at Cheydinhal; traitor and murderer, necromancer and fugitive. And he had only been deposed because the entire guildhall stood up to him. Three given authority that they should never have had, and two of those should not have been in the guild to begin with.

Had he a choice, Tarvyn would not have continued with the guild, but the services which should have been freely available were locked away inside the Arcane University. Clearly the guild leadership was as paranoid as it was inept, but Tarvyn had no choice but to labour under their farcical rules, at least until he gained access to the University. A rueful chuckle forced its way past his lips as he considered how that had almost become his motto of late; “no choice”. Then again, where Mephala was concerned, choice was something of an illusion anyway. Others were no less caught in her webs because they didn't choose to serve her directly, but having done so, Tarvyn fancied he could all but feel the strands woven about him.

But perhaps that was the web, he mused.

[mirocu]

Read that last one. Good stuff there, Thorny. I see you haven´t lost your inspiration

[Grits]

The Mages Guild on the other hand, were inept simpletons bought together by dependency.

The northern chapters don’t make the best impression, I suppose. Of course, neither do the southeastern ones.

Great to see Tarvyn back!

This post has been edited by Grits: Jan 19 2015, 05:12 PM

[Callidus Thorn]

Hauling this out of its grave once again. It'll probably take me a couple of posts to get things right, but the story goes on.

Kvatch, the seventh day after The Fall

Baurus' skin crawled beneath his armour. The horses were becoming unmanageable, trying to turn away from Kvatch more and more frequently the closer they came to the city. And the men and women following him spent as much time staring up at the sky as looking where they were riding. And in truth, Baurus couldn't blame them. They'd ridden hard, for as long as the horses could stand, driven by the urgency of their mission. But once Kvatch had come into sight, or rather the thick cloud of smoke above that carried a crimson hue, as if reflecting the fires that must have birthed it, each step had come harder than the last.

But they had their orders, and had ridden onwards. But then the thunder had begun, the air had dried and soured, and the wind carried the scents of smoke and brimstone to them, with a nauseating undertone that couldn't quite be identified. Then, as they rode ever closer to Kvatch, the sky had changed. It had been sudden, the blue sky overheard replaced in an instant by a crimson sky shot through with jagged streaks the colour of blood. That was when the horses had begun to get nervous, and started trying to shy away from their course. One of the Blades, Baurus wasn't sure who, had muttered something about the horses being smarter than they were, the unnatural air carrying the mumbling to all the riders, even over the hoofbeats.

The weary animals trudged reluctantly up the hill towards Kvatch, their riders shocked at the sight of the refugee camp that had sprung up alongside the road; singed tents that had seen better days, wounded people lying on bedrolls on the hard ground, and not one person was wearing clothes unsullied by blood or scorch marks. Baurus turned to Sabine, seeing his own horror reflected in her eyes. “Something terrible has happened here Sabine. Something linked to the Emperor's death, it must be. I'll need to send word to Jauffre; the enemy has beaten us here, we may already be too late.” He spotted a man wearing a torn and charred surcoat emblazoned with the black wolf's head insignia of Kvatch, and called out to him. “You there, I am sent by the Grandmaster of the Blades, I need to speak to whoever is in charge here, as soon as possible.” The man looked at Baurus for a moment, his eyes focused on some distant point behind Baurus, who was about to call to the man again before he turned and hurried away. Baurus dismounted from his horse and turned back to Sabine. “You and I are going to talk to whoever is in command here. Bring five with us, the rest to guard the horses. I don't think they will last long if left unattended.”

Sabine barked out a series of orders, and five more Blades formed up behind Baurus as they waited for the guard to return. The guard didn't return, but a trio of Kvatch guards came down the hill to meet them. The central guardsman caught Baurus' eye; battered and bloody, limping heavily and clutching at his ribs, torn chainmail visible through the rents in his surcoat, more black and red than white. Baurus gawked in disbelief. The man didn't look fit to stand, let alone able to fight. He limped over to the Blades, and saluted gingerly, wincing as he did so. “Captain Savlian Matius, Kvatch City Guard. Or at least, what's left of it.” Matius couldn't keep the bitterness from his tone, and not just for weariness.

Baurus returned the salute. “Captain Baurus of the Blades. What happened here?”

“The Daedra. They opened some kind of portal, larger than the city gates, right in front of the city. We rushed to the wall to defend the gate, but it was a trap. They opened smaller gates behind us, inside the city. Kvatch was lost before we knew it..”

Baurus' jaw dropped. “Daedra? But how?” Captain Matius didn't reply, and Baurus knew not to push for details. Then a thought struck him. “It happened seven days ago, didn't it? During the night?” Matius nodded, and Baurus continued, his first words barely audible. “The Dragonfires. Captain, I need to speak to you in private. The Empire needs your help.”

Something in Savlian snapped. Seven days of pain and rage and grief, of fear and battle and sleepless nights filled with dead faces, had taken their toll. He launched himself at Baurus, with more speed and grace than the startled Redguard had thought possible, and threw a thunderous right hook into the Blade's jaw. “Bastard!” Savlian screamed as Baurus reeled and fell. “Where was the Empire when the Daedra came, when Kvatch burned, when it's people died? Where were you?” He moved to kick Baurus in the ribs, but had forgotten his wounds in his rage, and his leg buckled beneath him as he swung. His fellow guards dashed forwards to catch him, to pull him away from the Blades as they drew their swords.

“Hold!” The Blades stopped, their swords half out of their scabbards. Baurus pushed himself back to his feet, spitting blood and shaking his head against the ringing in his ears. He worked his jaw a few times, wincing as it clicked, before removing his helmet and swordbelt and passing them to Sabine. When he spoke, his tome was deathly cold. “Where was I when Kvatch fell? I was standing guard over the body of the Emperor, in a secret passage beneath the Imperial City. I am the last of the Emperor's Guard, and we failed to protect him, as the Blades failed to protect his sons. The Empire is in turmoil Savlian, the Elder Council fights amongst itself as Chancellor Ocato tries to maintain order. The Empire needs our help Savlian, because it cannot help itself.”

As Baurus spoke, Savlian had pushed himself, with the aid of his companions, to his knees, but seemed to lack the strength to stand. “And what help can I be to the Empire, Baurus? My duty was to defend Kvatch, to safeguard the lives of its citizens. And how completely have I failed. The city burns, its citizens either dead within its walls or barely surviving out here, terrified refugees huddling in the shadow of my failure.” Savlian slumped, his head bowed, as if his reply had drained him of what little strength remained to him.

When Baurus spoke, his voice had lost its hard, cold edge. “None of us chooses to fail, to fall, Savlian.” Baurus knelt beside him and placed his hand on his shoulder. “But to not rise again, that is a choice we make, that is down to us. You and I have both failed, and no matter how many people tell us that it was not our failure, we know that doesn't change anything. But if we fail again, if we choose not to rise now, then it will not be Kvatch that burns, but the whole of Cyrodiil, possibly the whole of the Empire. The Empire is attacked Savlian, but it is not yet defeated. There is one last heir, one last son of Uriel Septim VII, and he can still be saved.” Baurus rose to his feet, the hand on Savlian's shoulder now extended towards him, to help him to his feet. When he spoke again, Baurus voice carried a ring of authority. “Only in death does duty end, Captain Matius. On your feet, the Empire needs us.”

This post has been edited by Callidus Thorn: Apr 21 2015, 03:23 PM

[Grits]

Arriving to find that Kvatch had fallen was a huge shock that came across very well. Baurus knew from recent experience how to get Captain Matius on his feet again. What a great speech!

[Acadian]

Good to see you continuing this.

A very gritty and poignant meeting of two brave men who both feel they have failed in their respective responsibility to defend their charges. Well done!

[Darkness Eternal]

The state of Kvatch is evident when even the horses shy away from approaching the doomed city.

But once Kvatch had come into sight, or rather the thick cloud of smoke above that carried a crimson hue, as if reflecting the fires that must have birthed it, each step had come harder than the last.

Beautifully written. Just how I remember it from Oblivion.

Savlius attacking Baurus in rage showed just how depressed he was and how the siege had taken its toll in even the bravest of men. It shows the horrific actions of the Daedra and of war and battle itself. Like Acadian mentioned, this passage shows just how two men did not do their duty as they would have liked, and it brings up opportunity for them both to relate to one another. Baurus' speech was enough to stir something in me and I believe it shall inspire something in Captain Matius!

[Callidus Thorn]

Thanks guys.

Well, it's not dead, but this part's been putting up as much of a fight as Captain Matius It's been through three complete rewrites, including two changes of character perspective, but it was a part I felt that I had to write, so here it is:

Kvatch, the tenth day after the Fall

Baurus stood behind the barricades, casting a wary eye over the portal. It had been a quiet night for once, only a handful of daedra had emerged from the portal, and Captain Matius' guards had used their bows to good effect. The Blades sharing guard duty with them hadn't even needed to draw their katanas. He sighed and rolled his head, trying to work out the kinks in his neck. It had been three days since he and his Blades had arrived, and he'd been awake for most of that. Matius and his men had been relieved, and had spent two days recovering from their ordeal, at least in part. They'd gotten some sleep, but injuries were still a problem. Only one healer, an Imperial woman named Luniala Horatius, had survived the Fall. She had been so overworked in the days since that she spent much of her time sleeping, and ate better than anyone else at Kvatch, in an attempt to recover her strength.

“It's Menien, right?”

Menien jumped, having been so intent on the portal that he'd not noticed Baurus' approach. “Yes Captain, Menien Goneld.”

“Call me Baurus. You were in the Legion weren't you, just like your Captain?”

Menien nodded proudly. “That I was. Twenty years, and fifteen more in the guard. Served the Empire nearly my entire life.”

“I was in the Legion myself, before I was recruited into the Blades. There are times I miss it, even now.”

Menien grinned wryly. “But not mealtimes, I'm guessing.”

For the first time since Baurus had come to Kvatch, he smiled. “Heh, we did eat better, but they made us train twice as hard for it. We like to joke that the only reason the Blades are so loyal is that we're all too tired to disobey orders.”

Menien's smile flickered wider for a moment, then fell from his face.“Well then Captain Baurus, now that we've bonded, why don't you tell me what you want?”

“I need to know what happened the night Kvatch fell. I need to know what could be waiting for us inside the city.”

“Then you should talk to Captain Matius.”

“You know as well as I that he isn't ready to talk about it, not while Kvatch still burns. And not for a long time after that, if I'm any judge. You don't carry the same burden that he does Menien, that's why I'm asking you. Because I need to ask, and you know that. Call it an order, if that makes it any easier.”

Menien crumpled. His shoulders slumped, his hand slid from the pommel of his sword, and his chin sunk almost until it touched his chest, and he said nothing for long moments. Baurus felt his gorge rising at the sight of Menien's duress, half expecting the man's knees to buckle. He didn't want to do this, but knew that he'd have to do worse before things got any better. And if the memory of the daedra could defeat the surviving Kvatch guard, better to learn that before they try to retake the city. When Menien spoke, his voice was harsh, his every word forced past the city-sized lump in his throat.

“We assembled at the gate. We had maybe a hundred with bows on the wall, and half as many again in the plaza in front of the gates, expecting the daedra to break their way through. But they retreated through their portal, and smaller ones opened across the city. Captain Matius had a hard choice to make: Flee the city, hold the gate for as long as possible in the hope that the citizens could reach it, or send us into the streets to save those we could. He chose the third. A third of us stayed to guard the gate and hold the plaza, supported by the archers on the wall. The rest of were sent into the streets in groups of half a dozen, with orders to grab any civilians we found and escort as many as possible to the gates.

The streets were a nightmare. There was screaming everywhere, cruel laughter, and the sickening sounds of weapons striking flesh, the air thick with the smell of smoke and blood. The gates had barely been opened, but a horde of daedra had flooded the city. People were racing to the gate, some chased by daedra. Those we left, to focus on people who were trying to hide, who wouldn't last long after we were forced out. We all knew that was how the night would end. My team didn't get far from the plaza before we came across a half dozen people huddled in a bookshop, closed since the owner's death. I considered sending them alone to the gate, since it was only a couple of streets away, but each one of them had a child with them. I knew for a fact that half of them didn't have kids, and were saving someone else's. I got them on their feet and moving for the gate, my team taking up positions around them.

We'd barely gotten moving before we were attacked. Some monstrous lizard-thing, taller and broader than an Orc, smashed it's way through a wall. It grabbed Ladeiaia Palenix, a woman I'd known for fifteen years, and introduced to her husband, in one massive claw and clamped its jaws around her head. It happened so fast, we couldn't have helped her. She didn't even have time to scream. There was no way we could fight something like that, and we weren't supposed to try. The civilians ran for their lives, their screams lost amidst the desperate chorus that was Kvatch. We did our best to keep up, but they were fleeing in terror, and weren't burdened by armour. They were lucky.

Before we'd gotten halfway to the plaza, a group of smaller lizard things, all teeth and claws and scales, fast as lightning but smaller than the thing that killed Ladeiaia, caught up to us. My wife's brother, Tyroni Scerius, slashed at the neck of one of them, killing it. But there was some foul magic in the creature, and the mail on his arm burst open as the bones in his sword arm shattered, blood dripping everywhere. I had to half carry him back to the plaza. The rest didn't make it. They fought to buy us time. Jayred the Unwavering, Millona Lannus, and Kelvyn Rackham. I'll never forget those names.

By the time Tryoni and I reached the plaza, we were horrified. The daedra had organised. Some of those Dremora had gathered some of the daedra into a firing line, hammering the archers with volleys of fireballs, lightning bolts, and glowing orbs of cold. Half of the archers were already dead, and the battle on the ground was going even worse. It looked like of those of us sent into the streets only a handful had returned, and most of them were wounded. Something screeched horribly behind us, and Tyroni and I raced for the gates. He was in no state to fight. I almost followed him, but as I glanced back for one last look I saw Captain Matius.

He stood alone, fighting against a trio of Dremora, and more were coming. I shoved Tyroni through the gates, then ran back towards the Captain. And I wasn't alone in that. Almost everyone on the ground ran towards him. The apprentice Battlemages got there first. I thought the daedra were scary, but they were nothing compared to those three. They didn't stop for anything: Their every movement was a strike at a daedra, a spell thrown into an enemy's face, a step towards the foe. I've seen men and women in the Legion who could best them with weapons, and I've seen mages throw more powerful spells, but the Battlemages were dangerous enough with both that it didn't matter. They fought and cast spells as easily as I walk and talk. But even they were nearly too late.

Captain Matius was fighting like I'd never seen before. His shield might have been a wall on his arm, for all the daedra were able to get past it. His sword flashed out like an arrow, sharp stabs that the eye had a hard time following in the foul light of those damn portals. He slew one of the three Dremora, and for just a moment his blade caught in the bastard's ribs. One of the others brought his mace down on the Captain's arm, breaking it, and a second swing caught him in the ribs. He fell, but before the Dremora could finish him the Battlemages arrived and drove them back. Me and a half dozen others lifted the Captain to his feet and carried him out of the city, guards dying around us as they fought to shield us from the daedra. Some of those that were left stayed to close the gates behind us. The ladders the archers had used had been moved to the opposite side of the wall, so those that still lived were able to escape as well.

I don't know how many people got out of Kvatch alive, but if one in ten was spared, then Captain Matius is the greatest thief ever to have lived. Aside from Martin he was the only one who seemed to keep his head that night.”

Baurus fought to keep his nervousness form showing. “Martin?”

“A priest of Akatosh. I saw him leading some people towards the chapel, as we carried the captain out. By that point he couldn't have reached the gates, but the chapel might keep the daedra out. If so they'll be the last people left alive in Kvatch.”

They were both silent for a moment. “Menien, in a day or so we'll be sending a team through that portal, to see if we can close it somehow. Some of the Kvatch guard, and some of the Blades. If you're interested, I'll request that Captain Matius put you in charge of the Kvatch contingent.”

Menien smiled, a cold, grim smile, laden with the promise of vengeance. “Those bastard's owe us a lot of blood Captain, it's about time they paid up. Count me in.”

[Grits]

What a gripping account of the fall of Kvatch. I can imagine it was difficult to choose a perspective for this part. Very well done!

[Callidus Thorn]

I've been undecided on continuing this for a while, but I think it's time to call it quits. What started as Tarvyn's story became too wide focus, a retelling of Oblivion's story in which he became lost. It's not my story, just my spin on someone else's.

I could keep writing this, but there'd be no enjoyment in it. I'd just be writing it to tell a story that everyone already knows, at least in broad terms, and to write a couple of chapters that I like the idea of, somewhere down the line.

This post has been edited by Callidus Thorn: Aug 30 2015, 12:47 PM

[Darkness Eternal]

What a shame. I was looking forward to more. The action was about to begin and the story was going along so well. I do understand where you're coming from and you're position. Personally I love to read Oblivion stories but when it comes to writing itself, I choose to mention events in canon rather than place my characters in the center as the Prophesized Heroes . . . knowing full-well some writer will weave their own spin on the story. Never sat well with me to see three Champion of Cyrodiils. But that's just me.

Have you ever thought of maybe writing about Tarvyn in his own story unrelated to the main quests, or perhaps related but not directly? Or in a different era? Really, the Elder Scrolls offer so much lore that we can write about events that happened a thousand years before Skyrim or a couple of hundred or more. There is tons of lore on the matter that you can just fit your character in a world with endless possibilites. Don't give up on writing. You have a good reader base here, despite the lacking members in the fanfiction section. If you feel like you're done writing completely, okay, I understand. But remember. You can share with us your imagination and tell Mr. Dralor's tale in a new light.

[Callidus Thorn]

Well, one of the things about Tarvyn was that he wasn't going to be the Champion of Cyrodiil, even though he'd follow the same path. It was one of the main reasons Savlian and Baurus were fleshed out, because they were going to be Cyrodiil's Champions. Tarvyn's past lent him a rather different role, one that wouldn't be openly praised.

I don't think writing about Tarvyn without the Main Quest would work, too much of him was tied into the idea of owing the Empire and Mephala dropping him into something, and only the Main Quest fits the bill for that really. Changing that would mean a new character, even if he had the same name.

I honestly don't know if I'll take another stab at this. This is now three attempts that have all failed for various reasons, maybe I should take the hint. And I'm sure people here are getting tired of reading stories that don't make it past the opening stages.

[Darkness Eternal]

Well Callidus, do what you wish. If you believe making a new tale is a better take, we are here to support you.