Agent, Ebonheart's finest Options

[jack cloudy]

I just wanted to explain here that Pelinal and knight are interchangable terms. Pelinal means 'Glorious Knight' in an Ancient Elven language if I remember correctly. So yeah, I always wanted to do something with giant Centurions. For one thing, Numidium with the Mantella was already pretty much unbeatable. (according to some stories, it conquered all of Tamriel) Then how could the Chimer ever hope to defeat it at Red Mountain where it was still powered by the heart of Lorkhan? My simple explanation is that the only thing capable of defeating Numidium would be another Centurion, bringing the total up to three. (Numidium, Dagoth Ur's Akulakhan and now Pelinal if I counted correctly.) Enough of me ranting, it is time to continue this thing.





I slowly walked further into the cave, accompanied by the red glow of the candles. More victims of the curse met me but I would not strike them down till I’d found the one who was in charge here. It was somewhat frightening, to be amidst these poor people, knowing that I might become one of them if I messed up. The price of failing had never been greater. Perhaps even more frightening was the fact that they displayed no aggression, only……curiosity?

I came upon some sort of altar. A pillar stood in the middle, holding many ash statues. Two furns stood beside it. One was filled with a variety of weapons and a chest, the other was filled with…….lumps of flesh. I nearly emptied my stomach at that moment. It was disgusting beyond comparison.
,,So, you have come. Welcome, returned one. Come, let us talk” I turned to the right. Further along a passage, I could make out a pit of boiling magma. A platform of burned rock rose up, with another altar at its top. And standing next to the altar was a being that seemed to have walked straight out of a nightmare.

My legs trembled at the sight of the slimy tentacles protruding from the things face. It became even worse when I began to notice other things, Elven features. This thing had been born as a Dunmer. I fought back my fear and ascended the stone path towards the thing.
,,You will tell me where my friends are.” I ordered it with a voice as cold as the ice of Skyrim. The monster gestured at yet another passage.
,,They are there. I have not yet blessed them as I know you would not agree on such an action. I welcome you, returned one.” It spoke with a voice that brought back the image of the Dunmer it once was.

My knuckles were white from the effort with which I gripped my blade. While I was unused to a sword, I would use it given half a chance. I wanted to kill this abomination right then yet there was still one question left to ask.
,,Why do you call me the returned one?”
The creature was silent for a short moment, thinking of the answer it would give.
,,Your soul belongs in Oblivion, where it has been throughout the eras. Now, you have returned in the form of a mortal, the form of your ancient enemy. Join us. While we last met on the battlefield at opposite sides of the sword, Lord Dagoth remembers the friendship you once shared with his master. For that, he is willing to give you a place among us, his most trusted advisors and assistants. The Sixth House shall rise. With it, you can make your House rise as well. There is only one thing Lord Dagoth would ask of you.”

The words rang like the truth, no matter how hard to believe or how hard to comprehend. While I’d received some answers, more questions had appeared.
,,What does he want?” I asked, slowly bringing my sword in the right position to strike. The creature flapped about with its tentacles, emitting a low tone from the flutelike appendage grown from where its chin used to be.
,,He wants the key. The key only you can wield.” It explained calmly, not in the least worried about my sword. They seemed very serious about all of this. A key that only I could wield? More proof for me that I was the one who was supposed to reawaken Pelinal and hand their behinds to them on a silver platter. Fine, I would be serious about it as well.
,,I don’t use keys, I use lockpicks.”

We both leapt forward at the same time, meeting at the center of the platform. It lashed out with its tentacles, I slipped in a diagonal slash with the sword. The silver cut off the flute, then the tentacles slammed into my chest and sent me flying beyond the ledge. I dug my fingers painfully into the cracked rock, somehow stopping my fall and holding on to my sword. I sheathed the blade so I could free up my other hand for clinging to the rock better. When I looked up, the thing stood on the ledge, staring down at me.
,,It is a shame that you should die. We could have used you but now…….we will have nothing to fear when the wielder of the key is gone.” It spoke as Magicka gathered around it, forming into a lethal spell.

I was not going to wait. Seeking for grip against the rock surface, I pushed myself away, dodging the spell and landing at the edge of the magma pit.
,,Well, you won’t have to fear anything once I’m through with you.” I shot back at the monster while I reached into my pocket for my trusty collection of scrolls. My fingers only revealed a messy lump of ruined paper. That was how I learned always to store my scrolls in a waterproof pocket in case I would go swimming like I did at Seyda Neen.
,,Just my luck.” I cursed and threw my now worthless scroll collection away. I turned around and ran.

[The Metal Mallet]

Oh boy, oh boy! Ro-El is in quite the predictament. Also the Sixth House's interest in him is frightening, though I now have a vague idea of who Ro-El might be the reincarnation of....

Great work jack, this fic is turning out to be quite interesting!

[canis216]

I've got a feeling about this reincarnation business as well...

Nice post, Jack!

[jack cloudy]

Short, so an update may follow later.


I had a choice here. I could dash for the exit or I could try and find a way to turn the tables. I chose the latter. Already, the formerly passive minions began to converge around me, flailing wildly with their arms. I unsheathed the sword I’d taken from Ephraim as I dove past their attacks. With a quick spinning motion, I put two of them out of their misery. A ball of crackling lightning zipped past my head, sending stone fragments into the air when it hit the wall. The leader had joined the chase.

I dove into the nearest passage and ran as if my life depended on it, which it did. To further my ongoing list of bad luck, the passage came to a death end. The good news was, that said death end contained a cage with Fargoth and Zarador. The Altmer was out cold, I couldn’t see if he was death or just unconscious. Fargoth though was awake.
,,Ro-El, you must have left quite an impression. They weren’t in such an uproar when we came in.” He said dryly. I pressed my back against the cage and held my blade pointed at the approaching mass.
,,What can I say? I’m famous.” I joked. Somehow, the gravity of the situation had brought me in a light mood. Quite odd.

,,Right, just give me my bow. It’s over there.” Fargoth spoke from behind my back, now more urgently. I had no idea what he wanted to do with that. Still, I lunged forward, using the nearest creature as a stepping stone to get across. I smoothly turned my landing into a roll ending at the place where the Bosmer’s bow and arrows had been discarded.
,,No, not the arrows! Just the bow!” I dropped the quiver of arrows and threw the bow over to Fargoth who caught it and withdrew into his cage.

,,You are a good runner.” The tentacled leader had caught up with me. Now I was trapped between a whole pack of cursed zombies at one side and a big spellslinging nightmare at the other. Not knowing what to do, I drew back on the Legion rules of engagement. Rule 51: When surrounded, attack in the direction of least resistance. In this case, the least resistance was the side with the big boss.

I rushed at it, somehow managing to catch it offguard. My sword bit into its robes, leaving a long gash in its side as I spun around and aimed a second blow at its back. My opinion of the blade was proven correct as the monster let out a scream of pain. It turned around to face me, forcing me to jump away from the swinging tentacles. My occasional clumsiness came into play when I tripped over a pebble and landed flat on my back. Enraged, my enemy shot a spell at me. I felt my legs freeze, my arms. My lungs drew breath with great effort against ribs that stubbornly refused to move. My heart beat slower, my mind was numbed.

Its minions approached me but were waved away.
,,Stop, I want to have the honour of killing him myself. Surely I will raise in rank when I report this to my lord.” If I could, I would have grinned. Legion rule 34: Don’t go for show, go for the kill. Yes, I was paralyzed. However, that spell could be turned on its owner in the blink of an eye. I gathered the threads of Magicka holding me down, subtly bringing them under my command. Not fast enough. A bolt of lightning hit my body, shocking me with its powerful charge. I was in silent agony, unable to make a sound. My vision blackened and through the haze of pain I realized that unless a miracle happened, I would die.

The creature screamed in pain again. This was my chance. I forced the spell out, making it slam into its creator at full force. Instantly, its movements froze, the swirling tentacles suspended in the air. I sprang up to my feet and plunged the silver sword right through its face into the brains.
,,You may scare the Legion, but their rules still apply.” I said as I withdrew the blade from the now lifeless creature. Already, my strength began to flee. I collapsed on the floor. The last thing I heard before succumbing to the darkness was the sound of running footsteps followed by the singing of a bow.

[jack cloudy]

Shortest update ever! Reason? I need to figure out a good look for the third blade. I already have a name, now I need the visual aspect. Also, I know nothing of Chimer or Dwemer marriage ceremonies, so I'm just making this all up.





They all looked expectantly at the sky. There it was, blocking out the sun. The strange machine descended towards the land with a slow graceful spin. Ropes were thrown down, Dwemer rushed up to secure the Airship to the rings embedded in the rock. Now a trapdoor opened, revealing a ladder.

Dumac climbed down and set foot on the ground.
,,Ah, finally arrived. It may not be as quick, but I’ll take the Cloudcleaver over teleportation any day.” He chuckled as he waved a greeting at the collected Chimer and Dwemer. He moved quickly over the carpet towards the door, eager to get inside before it would start to rain. The metal doors opened without a sound, their hinges being regularly oiled.

,,You’re late, Dumac.” Was the first thing Nerevar said to his friend. The Chimer was dressed in a traditional suit of armour that had been in his family for generations. It was too heavy and uncomfortable to use in real battle but for a ceremony such as today’s, it was perfect. Dumac wore a much more comfortable version of Dwemeric chainmail with Glass decorations. Finally, there was Almalexia who wore an exquisite dress as opposed to a suit of armour. Dumac greeted the woman politely before stepping onto the platform that had been built just for the occasion.

,,Chimer, Dwemer! I thank you for coming to join us on this glorious day! It is with a great sense of pride that I witness how this man and this woman will pledge their oaths! Well, I’ve never been a great lover of pompous ceremonies so let’s make it quick, shall we?” The king of the Dwarves shouted over the crowd, causing a few laughs. Dumac’s distaste for ‘pompous’ ceremonies was nearly legendary.
,,Nerevar Indoril, I grant you the hand of this woman, Almalexia. Almalexia, you have renounced your name and now lay claim on the name of Indoril. I grant your hand to this man, Nerevar Indoril. Do the both of you, swear that you will support each other? In peace and in war, in prosperity and in poverty?”
The Chimer answered as one.
,,Yes.”

Dumac smiled.
,,Good, then let’s get this over with and move on to the good part. It is time for the gifts!” A Dwemer stepped up to the king. In his arms he held a pillow. Three sheathed blades rested on the soft fabric. Dumac pointed at them and frowned a bit.
,,Why three?” He asked curiously.
,,Kagrenac couldn’t stop after two. He felt he needed to use all three elements. The third is for you.” The Dwemer explained. Dumac’s frown vanished.
,,Oh, I like receiving gifts. Give him my thanks.” He told the Dwemer who dropped the pillow with the swords on a pedestal and stepped back into the crowd.

Dumac picked up the first sword. It was a vicious, toothed scimitar. The moment he unsheathed the blade, bright flames erupted. Through the flames, Dumac read the inscription.
,,I present this sword to you, Nerevar Indoril. It’s name is Trueflame. May it always show you the right pad.” He spoke as he resheathed the blade and attached it to Nerevar’s belt. He then picked up the second blade. While Trueflame had been a brutal fang of flaming steel, this sword was sleeker and wrapped in crackling lightning.
,,I present this sword to you, Almalexia Indoril. It is called Hopesfire. May it bring hope to you in dark times.” He spoke with and attached it, with some trouble, to the belt of the woman’s dress.
,,Why is it called Hopesfire when it holds the element of lightning?” The Dwemer muttered to himself as he now reached for the third and final blade.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Dec 29 2006, 08:14 PM

[The Metal Mallet]

Oooo, I wonder what Dumac's Ice enchanted sword will be called... Hopefully not Iceshard. That name is all ready taken I'm sure it'll be great though. Excellently written flashback jack!

[jack cloudy]

This weapon was straight where its two siblings were curved. A steel blade rimmed with an icy material, fanning out at the tip like an arrow. The crossguard was like a crescent, decorated with gems of the same material as the blade’s rim. The hilt was wrapped in the finest leather, sure to remain comfortable and provide an excellent grip during even the most heated battle. A large blue gem helt blade and hilt together, with a smaller version as the pommel.

When Dumac unsheathed the blade, it hid in a mist of cold. Through the mist, he read the runes engraved into the blade.
,,Forgeheart. The sword of the northern ice. Not a bad name.” He muttered as he trailed the blade’s rim with a finger. He sheathed the sword at his side where it would remain till his death.
,,Alright, that wraps it up. Bring out the drinks!” He shouthed, signalling the beginning of the celebration.

Dwemer and Chimer mixed among each other, exchanging rumors and stories. Dumac met a man who was in a heated argument with a few smiths.
,,No no, if we combine the strengths of flesh with the metal power of a Centurion, we would be able to create the perfect being.” He argued. When he noticed the king looking at him, he moved closer.
,,Sotha Sil, at your service. Milord, may I inquire into the progress made on Pelinal? Just the curiosity of a scholar.” The man asked a bit blunt. Dumac grinned at that.
,,It’s doing great. We even managed to activate it last month though we had to make a few changes since then. The spirits of the Dremora made it a bit too violent for us to use. We need a protector, not a destroyer. We replaced the soul gems with empty ones while we’re looking for a better powersource.”

Outside, the first drops of water fell from the sky. It had begun to rain.

I arose out of a dark pit where the sun could not reach. I opened my eyes, expecting to see the plane of Oblivion. None of that. I was back in my room in Ebonheart, lying comfortably in my bed. I shook away the fog of sleep, wondering if it all had been a dream. Balmora, Fargoth, the Sixt House? Were they real? A single look at the other occupants of the room proved to me that it had been real, very real. For one thing, if Fargoth was just the result of my imagination, he wouldn’t be sitting there on a stool.

,,Now that we’re all back in the land of the living, it is time for me to start complaining. Just what were you doing? What happened to the concept of stealth? That Ro-El rushes in without thinking is something I’m willing to believe but you Fargoth, you should have known better.” Leroth was sitting on the other stool. A smile took the sharpness out of his words.
,,Sorry, master Leroth. So, what happened?” I asked with a tongue that was still numb. Fargoth took it upon him to answer.

,,As I told you before, I can kill anything with my bow if I have the right arrow. Now my problem was going in with just Chitin arrows so after you threw me my bow, I improvised with an enchanted mark ring on a stick. Needless to say, that Ascended Sleeper didn’t like having a ring stuck in its windpipe. That gave you the chance to end the fight and kill that creep. After you were knocked out, I recalled to the mark on my ring and annihilated the remaining Corprus stalkers before they could turn you into their punchingbag. We dragged you back to Ebonheart and well, here we are. Five days later.” The Bosmer shrugged. The most interesting part about his explanation were the names he’d used. Ascended Sleeper for the tentacled leader and Corprus Stalkers for its cursed slaves. I sat up straight and looked Fargoth in the eyes.
,,Zarador?” I asked seriously.
,,He’s alive. He’s bugging us constantly to fetch him Dwemer material to help him in fixing his Centurion. The thing got pretty banged up back there.” Fargoth replied, rolling his eyes at the same time.
,,Good, I also found something regarding Orvas Dren. Perhaps you could get Serius in here?”

Leroth shook his head.
,,We already emptied your pockets, he knows and is grateful for avenging his brother. Which also brings me to this.” The Bosmer stood up and retrieved a familiar blade from behind his back.
,,He wants you to keep the sword. Consider it yours now. I think it’s the perfect weapon for you as it is completely designed for people without the strength required to use a heavier weapon.” He dropped the sword into my lap. I looked at the Duke’s dragon on the hilt. It was a weapon capable of killing any supernatural creature, a weapon I would need in the time to come.
,,Give him my thanks once we’re done. In the meantime, I have a few things to say. You’ve read Ephraim’s letter?” I spoke and waited till the two Bosmer had nodded. I took a deep breath as I began.

,,I already knew of Pelinal before that letter. Pelinal is like a gigantic copy of that Dwemer armor they recently discovered in Cyrodiil. I know this because I’ve been having visions. In those visions, I inhabit a different body, people call me Dumac. I met Chimer, Dwemer, including Almalexia and Nerevar Indoril, the Nerevar Indoril. The Sixth House calls me the returned one and wants me death before I get the key that only I can wield, if that Ascended Sleeper was right. We had a short talk before it came down to violence. That key presumably controls Pelinal, wherever it is now. So….” I paused for a moment and read the same thought I’d been having in their face.
,,Am I some sort of reincarnation of Dumac like the Nerevarine is the reincarnation of Nerevar?”

The room was so silent you could hear the creaking of the ships down at the harbour.
,,I don’t know. The Nerevarine prophecies don’t talk about Dumac returning, nor about this Pelinal. In fact, till now this was all completely unknown. We can’t be sure that you’re Dumac returned. Still, that’s not important. What is important is that the Sixth House seems more interested in finding the key than finding Pelinal. Fargoth, get the message across to all agents that I want a meetin within seven days. Ro-El, you stay here and don’t leave the castle under any condition. The Sixth House has two ways to achieve its goal. Getting the key or killing you. So stay inside, for your own safety. That’s all, I have a lot of work to do.” The room had been emptied before I could say a single word of protest. I didn’t want to stay in my room and hide till it all blew over. I wanted to help.
,,Not that they’ll ever listen to me.” I grumbled and went back to sleep.





And now I present, Forgeheart! I think it could do with some more runes, there are some transparency glitches with the blue gems but other than that, I think it came out quite well.
(Edit: I played around a bit more and concluded that a grey blade looks better than Dwemer orange.)


This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Dec 30 2006, 07:12 PM

[Black Hand]

OOhh! NICE Blade there, Jack!

**Sneaks into the Mournhold Museum of Artifacts at night in Dark Brotherhood Armor with Mission:Impossible Theme Music**

Forgeheart shall be mine!

Oh, and the story part was good too...I GUESS..

(Actually Jack, your writing really is getting progressively better and better, that fight scene in the Temple of Lore left me speechless, would that I could write fight scenes like that! I may be post machine, but your broad perspectives far outshine any other writer here I've seen. Keep it up, so that you may one day be a highly paid author!)

[The Metal Mallet]

Mmmmm sexy sword ya got there Jack. I wish I was Dumac now

And yes, I too have noticed constant improvement in your writing, whether be the addition of more character developing moments, or a vivid battle scene. That update itself was an excellent example of that. The vision was wonderfully described and Ro-El coming to and feeling left out was great.

I have a feeling though that Ro-El isn't going to stick around in his room for too long. Though, I don't know whether he'll leave on his own or will be forced to. I can see both happening if ya ask me.

[jack cloudy]

Heh, Forgeheart won't be in Mournhold, trust me. And Mallet, I think you should seriously reconsider that wish. Remember, Dumac died a violent death. Thanks for all the compliments. So here's a quickie.




Leroth made sure he kept me out of the whole thing. All agents were strictly ordered not to speak with me in case they would loose a shred of information which might have me chase it. I tried to listen in on their meeting but that didn’t work. In the end, the only thing I could do was hang around the castle while reading and trying to figure out how to make potions that didn’t explode in my face.

One of those days, ten days after regaining consciousness in fact, I was sitting in my room mindlessly playing with my sword’s sheath. The scenes I’d witnessed inside the Sixth House base played through my mind again. Ephraim, then the Corprus Stalkers, then the Ascended Sleeper telling me why they wanted me so badly. The fight, ending with the Sleeper’s death and me falling into a coma. I looked out of the window, watching a pair of Netch float by. I remembered how the Sixth House base had been just a stone’s throw away from the Imperial fort. If the Sixth house could keep an Imperial Legion away, then would they let Ebonheart’s elite garrison stop them? I seriously doubted it.

Last time, I’d survived through help and sheer luck. Both were bad guarantees for survival if I ever came face to face with and Ascended Sleeper again. I needed something better than mere luck. With the sword by my side, I went to the courtyard. I looked at the legionnaires who were busy practicing. My own memories at these practises weren’t nice ones. Serius had first insisted on making me wield a Claymore that was twice as long as I was tall. I never even managed to lift it out of the rack. After that fiasco, he’d chewed me out about not realizing what was possible and what was not. Since then, I’d never returned to the courtyard for training in swordplay. Still, Serius was the man I needed.

He was in a corner, silently mutilating a training dummy with his broadsword. When he noticed me, he stopped and gave me a silent nod. It was probably the first sign of respect he’d ever given to me.
,,What do you want?” His voice hadn’t changed though. I unsheathed my sword which till shortly belonged to the man’s brother.
,,Teach me.”

There was a silence for a moment. Then, Serius called out to one of the few legionnaires who weren’t doing anything.
,,Go and fetch me my rapier from the barracks.” We waited for a few minutes till the legionnaire returned with my sword’s near identical copy.
,,I haven’t used a rapier in a while now, so I’m probably a bit rusty.” Serius admitted as he wrapped the thin blade inside cloth. I did the same with mine.
,,I’m more rusty than you are.” I replied which actually managed to make Serius give something that resembled a smile.

,,You remind me of him. Ephraim I mean. You both are as persistent as a Cliffracer. And you’re both as hotheaded. Now, the rapier is a weapon where you need to use your brains. It is meant for precision. You want intimidating force? Use a big piece of Iron like a Warhammer or a Claymore. Broadswords are for general use, the katanas and Wakizashi are for grace. The rapier, is for precision.” Serius stated as he raised his sword’s tip. The legionnaires formed a circle around us, eager to watch the use of this rare weapon.
,,Defense come before offence. Don’t attack if it means dropping your defense. Slashes are good to wear down the enemy. Don’t try to use a slash to end a battle unless you have a clean shot at a vital part like the throat. Rather, aim for a single pierce to the heart. Don’t try to defeat armour. Aim at the gaps instead. Or alternatively, you could try and cut the framework holding the armour together so it falls off in pieces. That’s only something to try when you’re a master though.”

Like lightning coming from a clear sky, he dashed forward with a stab to the heart as he’d explained. Despite my surprise, I jumped away so it struck my side in a glancing blow instead. The cloth wrapped around the blade prevented any injury.
,,And most important of all, use your brains. Analyze your opponent, know his move before he does. Listening to me talking is fine but you should also watch me, observe the muscles moving underneath the skin. See how these muscles make me move. A single twitch of a finger could mean the difference between a high or a low stab.” Serius warned me. He dashed forward again. This time though, I was prepared and parried the strike. Our blades locked, turning it into a contest of strength. Unsurprisingly, Serius pushed my blade away and finished his strike.

,,When the blades lock, disengage from the lock and counter. Try to avoid a lock though as it is not the position you want to be in. Dodging comes before parrying, parrying before blocking. Never block. A heavier weapon can not be stopped by a block, it can only be redirected through a parry.” As Serius continued to test me, my skills improved at an incredible pace. Either he was a good master, I was a good student or the rapier was simply my type of weapon. I personally believe it was the last option.

[The Metal Mallet]

Fine! I wish I was Dumac, but not one destined to die! Ha! Beat you at you're own game!

Nice use of explaining the use of rapiers. It felt instructional, but in a very good way. Keep it going man!

[jack cloudy]

Dang, mallet. You just don't give up. And all that for a sword. Though I have to admit, I'm now torn between Chrysamere and Forgeheart. No, I must be loyal to the Paladin's blade. I must wield it against the evil that threatens Vvardenfell. I must, even when another sword tries to claim my heart. (Too bad Oblivion doesn't have Chrysamere, or the Lord's mail. I'll miss those two when I get to play it. )




When Serius was finally finished with me, I was exhausted. If this was his rapier skill when he was rusty, I couldn’t even imagine how dangerous he would be with his skill brought back to full. Maybe I was worried about nothing and Ebonheart castle was as safe as Vivec’s palace though speaking about that, we didn’t have a god in the throne room so maybe Ebonheart was not quite as safe as the palace.

I refreshed myself back at my room, changed into a set of clothes that wasn’t soaked with my own sweat and then proceed to wander around the castle. As I came by the painting of what I now recognized as Red Mountain, I got an idea. When no one was nearby, I slipped through and entered the familiar dark maze of hidden passages. Instead of going directly to Leroth’s place, I decided to actually explore a bit, something I hadn’t done before. I used the most simple method of exploration devised by mortals. Follow the wall at your right side.

As I moved further into unexplored territory, the tiny markings carved into the walls reflected that by turning into symbols I did not recognize. The air smelled different, faintly resembling the distinct scent of an ash storm. The sound of steel hammering on steel echoed through the tunnel. This brought back memories of golden forges, hot flames and fantastic tools worthy of gods being made. I stopped where I were. Those memories were not mine. More lingering thoughts of Dumac? Or some other Dwemer, or perhaps simply my imagination having gone out of control?

With a mental curse at all these confusing thoughts, I moved on towards the source of the sound and smell. Soon, the tunnel was bathed in a flickering light coming from a chamber whose door had been left open. I looked inside and saw a familiar Altmer in a blue robe working on his machine. It was the first time I saw him without his hat which normally covered his head. Zarador was bald.
,,Hand me that cog. The little one, about the size of a coin.” The mage ordered without even looking. I shrugged and put the cog in his outstretched hand. He quickly put it to use by pressing it somewhere inside Centurion.

,,No, it doesn’t belong there.” I suddenly spoke up. I looked as surprised as Zarador. Till now, I had absolutely no knowledge about the fine intricacies of Dwemer machines. Or so I thought. To hide my own surprise, I grabbed the cog out of his hand and pointed at the inscription on its surface.
,,See these markings here? This cog is part of the mechanism that enables the neck to move. Hold on, I’ll put it in the right spot.” I crouched in front of the Centurion and looked at its exposed skeleton. I soon noticed the right gap in the neck and inserted the cog. A few gentle taps with a hammer and the cog was secured into its proper position.

When I looked up again, Zarador was scratching the bald top of his head.
,,Wow, I guess the Bosmer wasn’t joking when he said you were a Dwemer. Funny, you don’t look like the ghosts I met in Dwemer forts.” He said with a peculiar trembling voice. I would later find out that he always spoke like that when he didn’t quite know what to think of something.
,,More like a reincarnation of a Dwemer. So, did Fargoth return to Seyda Neen? I haven’t seen him around in a while and no one wants to talk to me.” I replied. This caused more headscratching on Zarador’s part.
,,The little guy with the bow? Oh, he went back to Seyda Neen. Not for long. After selling his house, he moved on to the north. To Ghostgate. I don’t know what happened after that.”

I was a little bit worried. The small amount of information I managed to get through public channels, also known as asking the occasional traveller, told that the Sixth House main base was beyond Ghostgate. Still, Fargoth knew what he was doing. I was sure that he’d stocked up on silver arrows for his expedition. He would be fine. With that matter taken out of my system, I gave Centurion a closer look.

The machine had been beaten up pretty badly. Both the outside and the inside was a mess. Joints were smashed, plates were torn, vital parts were missing. To make matters worse, it turned out that Zarador’s work on the machine was horrible. Tiny, handmade parts had been forcibly pushed into the wrong place, simple ropes replaced steel wires, what looked like the remains of someone’s meal was smeared all over. In short, there was no chance in Oblivion it could be fixed. Not without a proper supply of the right parts.

,,Lies! You dare doubt my wisdom, my knowledge? I’ve studied the Dwemer longer than you have lived! No one knows more about them than me!” The Altmer objected when I presented my findings to him.
,,I am a Dwemer, remember? Who knows better than the one who built it?” I countered with a slight grin. Zarador mumbled some more complaints but he couldn’t find anything against the point I’d made.
,,Fine, you’re the expert. What do you need?” He asked after a long silence. I shrugged at hearing the question. So far, my Dwemer memories required an external trigger.
,,I’ll know when I see the right parts.”

,,What?! You expect me to bring a whole Dwemer fort with me just so you can look for the parts you need to fix your Centurion? How am I going to do that, put it in the pocket of my robe perhaps?” I rose an eyebrow. My Centurion? Zarador was clearly shoving his responsibility away. Now I would be the one to blame if anything went wrong.
,,Then find a way. It’s not my problem because it is not my Centurion. Have a nice day.” I told him in a decisive tone and left before the Altmer could go any further. I would not use my heritage just to clean up the mess he’d made. Even if a Centurion was a fearsome foe in combat, it was not my problem.

I froze in the tunnel for the second time. Fearsome foe in combat? Any assault on the Sixth House’s main base would be troubled thanks to the eternal Ash storm, not to mention the ranks of Sixth House minions. Even the Houses, with their armour that was adapted specifically for these harsh conditions, would rather not seek battle in that weather. Dwemer Centurions on the other hand, as long as their armoured shell was properly sealed, could function in even the worst Ash storm as if it was a clear day. Vvardenfell was littered with ruins, each protected by these metal guardians. A whole potential army, just waiting to be used. I shook my head hard and called myself an idiot. No one could command the Centurions. This army was hostile towards anything that dared enter their home. It was no miracle really that no one looked towards the Dwemer artefacts as an army.

My growling stomach told me that it was time for diner. I would no longer worry about our current crisis till after I’d filled my stomach with some good food. A man must know his priorities. Hunger was more important than a long death Dwemer.

[The Metal Mallet]

Hmm... Interesting update Jack. It seems Ro-El isn't requiring dreams to remember Dwemer knowledge anymore. Perhaps that's a good thing. I wait eagerly for more as always.

[jack cloudy]

That night I was working on my studies. Specifically, geography. Leroth demanded that I knew every city on the island as well as the roads between them. That meant lots of information that I somehow had to cram inside my head. On top of that, I was also supposed to learn all the possible locations for shelter in case I got stuck in Vvardenfell’s infamous bad weather. Just hopping into the nearest cave wasn’t an option. The current inhabitants rarely welcomed visitors. When the sun sank into the sea, I lit a candle to replace the lost light.

It was deep into the night when someone knocked on the door. Without an idea of who to expect this late, I was a bit suspicious. Those suspicions faded when I met my visitor. It was Goran Dhemit, Ebonheart’s cook. While we rarely spoke, I did make sure to leave a compliment regarding his excellent cooking whenever possible. It was thanks to him that the meals at the castle were attended by just about everyone who could find a half-decent excuse to join.

,,Hello, sir Dhemit. What can I do for you, this late?” I asked him as I allowed the aging Dunmer to enter. His eyes swept across the room like a caged animal, resting on the slavebracers adorning the wall for a moment before moving on.
,,I don’t know. Look, I’ve been having bad dreams lately. I don’t think you should stay here.” He started. His voice was a panicked whisper, an attempt to bring out his message before whatever frightened him so much would rob him of his tongue. His hands were trembling.
,,What kind of dreams?” I inquired as I sat down on my bed. Most Dunmer saw dreams as little more than superstition but I’d since learned that dreams could be important. They often held important information the waking mind would not notice.

,,There’s this man, wearing a golden mask. He speaks to me, brings me the sweetest promises if I just do a small favour for him. I don’t know, that favour is not small to me. You see, he wants me to betr……” His mouth clamped shut. The trembling of his hands had now taken over his entire body. His mouth opened again but the words that came out were not his.
,,The Sixth House shall rise and all outlanders will flee before its glory!” The cook shouted and lunged at me with his fists.

Without a word or any effort, I parried his blows and delivered my own attack that sent him sprawling on the floor. Thanks to Leroth’s training, I could react to a dangerous situation far faster than most people, acting before my mind had even realized the threat and thought of a countermeasure. When I knew what was happening, Dhemit was already on the floor, half-unconscious and bleeding from a broken nose. I forced myself to stand perfectly still so I wouldn’t accidentally kill the old man. Yes, he’d just attacked me but I somehow knew that he didn’t plan to. Someone, or something, had taken control over him. That something might be nearby.

The candle on my desk flickered for a brief moment. I ducked down and reached for my sword below the bed. When I rose, the stars in the sky were blocked out by a black creature climbing through my window.
,,Slashes are good to wear down the enemy.”
I slashed across the thing’s face, expecting a scream, a hiss, anything. Nothing happened. The creature only seemed to move faster, not showing any positive effect from the wound. Its hand glowed with Magicka and a pulse caught me in the side. Instantly, I felt tired as if I’d ran a marathon. The creature’s hand glowed as it prepared another spell, a lethal one this time. I would not be able to escape. I had to do something, fast.

The eerie light of the spell reflected on the shining surface of my slavebracers. Acting on a flash of inspiration, I snatched one of the bracers from the wall and threw it at my foe just as he was about to fire his spell. During the brief contact, the bracer’s wellknown draining properties were unable to fully sap its ability at using Magicka. Yet, this contact was enough to cause a disruption and make the spell dissipate harmlessly.
,,aim for a single pierce to the heart.”
While the dark creature was still surprised by the failure of its spell, I did just as Serius had taught me, and something more. My rapier penetrated the chest where a mortal’s heart would be while my boot slammed into its already wounded face. The thing flew out through the window and fell down to its death on the stones below. I nearly joined its fate but a strong hand grabbed me and pulled me back inside before it was too late. Dhemit had saved the life he’d tried to end a moment earlier.

We looked at each other, not saying a word.
,,So, feeling better now?” I finally spoke up, pointing at the open window which had been occupied by the creature, whatever it was. Dhemit nodded.
,,A little. I’m sorry, sir Frost. I just don’t know why I did that. Would you be willing to accept an old man’s apology?” The cook asked with a voice that was much stronger than the one he’d used when he entered my room.
,,Don’t worry about that. You saved my life so I’d say that we’re even……Say, have you received any ash statues lately?”

Dhemit seemed surprised by my question. I couldn’t blame him. To a casual observer, the statues and the creature were completely unrelated. I was not a casual observer though. First, a cook who already served the Duke when said Duke was still wearing diapers, attacked me. One moment later, some humanoid creature tried to take advantage of the distraction and kill me through Magicka. The timing between the two events was simply too perfect to ignore.
,,Well um, yes I have. About a month ago. Strange, that’s also when the dreams started.” The Dunmer’s eyes widened as he now also saw the connection.
,,Destroy it. No, tell someone else to destroy it. You’ve been effected by it for too long to destroy it yourself.” I ordered him and walked back to the window.

I carefully glanced down in case the creature had survived the fall. At first, I couldn’t see it anywhere which caused some worry. Then though, I noticed a blackened patch of what looked like ash. Were those the thing’s remains? Two guards bearing torches stood around it.
,,Don’t touch that! I’ll be down soon! Get someone to drag the Duke and Leroth out of his bed. It’s urgent!” I shouted down and quickly dove into my closet to put on some warmer clothes. With all the excitement, I hadn’t noticed the cold breeze.
,,You know what to do, sir Dhemit. I suggest you do it as soon as possible. And find a healer, please. I think I broke your nose.”

[canis216]

That was rather nasty of the Sixth House... it's a good thing Ro-El is alert.

Nicely done.

[The Metal Mallet]

Yes, it certainly seems the Sixth House is getting more aggressive in their attempts to finish off Ro-El. It would be best for him to keep on his toes from now on. Or else he'll pay the consequence. That consequence, DEATH!!!

Muahahaha! *cough* Sorry.

[minque]

Ehh what they just said...really great job Jack!...More please?

[jack cloudy]

Dang, I wasn't planning on updating today. But since you all are eagerly waiting for one, here it is.





Within minutes, the courtyard was flooded with just about everyone who was awake and not stuck with patrolling a different section of Ebonheart. The Duke was among the last to arrive, dressed up like the noble he was. I didn’t envy him. This constant looking after your reputation would give me a headache. I always wore exactly the same blue clothes. I had like five sets of them. The Duke on the other hand had a closet the size of my room filled with nothing but varying clothes for all kinds of different purposes. He also had a professional clothing expert.

,,What’s going on here?” He asked with a stern voice that still hinted at the sleep he enjoyed till the guard burst into his room. I looked around at the gathered crowd.
,,Everybody leave please. Except you, you, you and of course the Duke.” I told the staring faces. A bit disappointed, they all left. I bet they were hoping for something exciting to breach the monotony of the night. I would love to have the monotony back in my night. I said nothing till they’d all left.
,,That patch of ash over there is what I believe to be some sort of humanoid Sixth House construct sent to kill me. More accurately, the remains of a Sixth House construct.” My words lacked any subtlety which managed to get the message across quite nicely.

Leroth was the first to bend down near the black substance and touch it with a finger.
,,It looks just like normal ash to me. The kind you can find in an ash storm. Are you sure these are its remains?” Leroth seemed unconvinced. At least he believed me about the attack. I shrugged.
,,Well, I wasn’t staring out of the window when it hit the ground but that ash wasn’t there before it came in through the window. So it feels like the logical conclusion. I think I have to thank Demith though. Just because that thing used the cook as a distraction I was all pumped up and alert. If Dhemit hadn’t tried to kill me a few seconds earlier, that thing would have killed me without me noticing a thing.”

The Duke now snapped to attention.
,,Dhemit tried to kill you? I don’t believe it. He is one of the most honest and friendliest men I’ve ever had the honour of meeting.” He blurted out, forgetting about the required noble accent for a moment. Not that it mattered. Those who were still around would not hold it against him.
,,No need to blame him or punish him or whatever. Apparently, the statues have spread beyond Ald-ruhn. Dhemit received one of those about a month ago. I suggest we should get a public notice out regarding this. Those statues have become too much of a plague to control. If we just tell the people that those statues represent a health hazard due to contact with some diseased animals or something, I’m sure we should be able to keep the situation on a tight leash. For a while, that is.” I explained before anyone could draw a faulty conclusion.

We all looked at the patch of ash silently. Leroth had claimed that the ash was exactly like the one found in your average ash storm. Just the thought of ash storms changing into armies of evil creatures made a cold shiver run down my spine. The Sixth House’s army was like the ultimate guerrilla force. No matter how locked up the enemy was, they could always sneak in a few assassins. It was a frightening idea, to say the least.
,,Ro-El, they’re clearly after you.” Serius noted. The man had warmed up considerably. What I first saw as mere grumpiness was because he worried about me.
,,I don’t get it though. Why me? I mean, the Nerevarine is prophesized to destroy the Sixth House. I’m just a Nord who might be the reincarnated Dwemer king. I’m not really a threat to them. If they were really serious about it, they could crush me within a heartbeat. Why all this playing around, why do they give me a chance to survive?” I complained to no one in particular. The whole situation had given me a great deal of frustration.

,,The Nerevarine is a powerful man, both a great warrior and a great mage. His tools are legendaric and equally powerful as the man. Yet, despite all that, he is still mortal. Dagoth Ur, the leader of the Sixth House is, according to everything we know, immortal. In a battle, the mortal will always lose. I don’t know how the Nerevarine is supposed to break this rule but I do know this. The only thing the Sixth House truly fears is the intervention of another god. Pelinal is such a god, a god born of steel who has claimed victory over what was always believed to be an invincible weapon as powerful as the Tribunal. You are the only person who can bring Pelinal back from its slumber and make it challenge the Sixth House.” The Duke answered solemnly.

,,Perhaps this is how the Nerevarine is destined to vanquish Dagoth Ur. If all of the devil’s attention is focussed on you, he might underestimate the actions of a single mortal. Ro-El Frost, you are hereby authorized to use any means necessary to recover Pelinal. I want you to follow in Dumac’s footsteps, find out what he did, how he lived, how he died. You are the key to Dumac, who is the key to Pelinal. With Pelinal in our possession, we will have two aces up our sleeves. The Nerevarine and the Shield of Resdayn. The holy vanquisher of evil and the great protector. You are now dismissed, make any preparations you need for your quest.” The Duke continued, a passion I hadn’t heard before echoing in his voice. I now knew that this man believed in me. He believed in a child to save his land. It was a sobering thought.

I returned to my room and packed everything I felt was needed. A portable repair kit for my rapier, the rapier itself, lockpicks, probes, maps, a few potions, a small alchemy kit, money and paper for writing notes. I then went for the man who could help me chasing my first clue. Zarador.
,,What? You want to go to that Dwemer ruin near Balmora and that cave where we all nearly got killed? Clearly my young friend, the heat of the bright days here must have clouded your mind. And leaving at night, you might get lost.” The Altmer argued when I dragged him out of his bed.
,,This is no joke, Zarador of the Steel Tower. I’ll fix your Centurion for you but I need your help. You look at Dwemer objects with a scholar’s eye. You can fill in the gaps I don’t remember.” I pleaded. If he didn’t want to come out of his free will, I would have to force him. Fortunately, I pushed just the right buttons.
,,Since you put it like that, I have no choice but to humbly accept your offer.” The Altmer said, making a bow.

[The Metal Mallet]

And so the charge has been issued; Ro-El's quest begins!! And with the interesting companion, Zarador, no doubt! I see excellent things in the future of this story.

[jack cloudy]

The tall man’s preparations took much longer than mine. He insisted on taking Centurion along which meant that I had to arrange a pack Guar. That took some time to we finally found a trader who was willing to sell his Guar ‘Rolly’ to us. Then of all things, it turned out that Rolly had a cold and needed to be taken to a healer before we could use it. When we finally got on the road, the sun was already looming over the horizon. I was beginning to hate this ‘quest’ already.

Zarador apparently shared none of my not so optimistic mood. He talked endlessly about his knowledge regarding the schools of Magicka, Argonian traditions, Dwemer constructs at which point he said the most blatant nonsense I’d ever heard and anything else he managed to pick as a subject. I wished my own ability at Magicka extended beyond storing and using other people’s spells. I would silence the Altmer instantly.

We did manage to keep a good pace though. Maybe because I really wanted to get to our destination and kept up a speed only slightly short of running. There were a few Nix-hounds to bother us and a pair of Cliffracers but nothing serious. The most amusing moment of our trip, the only amusing moment, was our encounter with a local bandit.

Nels Lendo was his name and thieving was his game. He suddenly jumped out from behind a rock when we were approaching Pelagiad.
,,Hello there, fellow travellers. My name is Nels Lendo. Perhaps you have heard of me? I tell you, Nels Lendo is not like all those other rogues, Nels Lendo is a civilized one. Now, if you would be so kind as to give Nels Lendo fifty septims, he will let you pass and you’ll never hear of him again.” He said in a cheery tone. People who referred to themselves in the third person where freaks in my book. Unless they were from Elsweyr or Argonia where people had a different opinion of their own identity. Since in those two provinces it was cultural, I had no problems with this way of speech. In the case of a native Dunmer? I had a big problem with it.

I pushed the Altmer away. I had no intention of leaving a black crisp on the road. Sure, Dunmer were resistant to fire but a big enough flame would still leaved a pile of ash. Nels Lendo was not evil enough to deserve this fate. He was just misled and needed to be led back on the straight path of the law. Preferably while receiving a couple of bruises somewhere in the process.
,,No money for you. Leave us and don’t ever try to rob people again, no matter how charming you believe you are.” I told him. The man frowned and his smile vanished.
,,Alas, I cannot. Unfortunately, I believe it must come to bloodshed then.” He spoke and drew a shortsword. Small flames travelled across the blade’s surface.

Zarador had stepped forward.
,,You do not understand who you are dealing with. I am Zarador, master of destruction. Yes, I can wipe your existence from this world with a mere flick of the wrist. And my companion here, Ro-El Frost may be young but he has all the experience of a true warrior. He has commanded armies into battle on the slopes of Red Mountain, he has fought and claimed victory against foes so terrible, your heart would freeze in fear at the mere mention of their name.” He said with his brilliant sense for drama. Really, if Zarador wanted to, he would be a great bard. I rolled my eyes though when he began about me.
,,Dumac was the armyleader, not me. And I also never fought any terrible foes.” I whispered to the Altmer as I pushed him back again.
,,Really? Now I do happen to know that these Dunmer are simply terrified about Corprus Stalkers, Ash slaves and Ascended Sleepers. You’ve killed all of those that crossed your path.” He replied, not lowering his voice at all. I gave him a stern face before turning to the bandit.

Nels Lendo had taken one step back and seemed less confident then before.
,,It appears that you do have some skill. Yet, my honour demands of me not to withdraw my challenge. Draw your weapon and let us fight as men.” He called out, raising his blade. I shook my head as one of my wicked grins formed on my face.
,,I walk a different path. Prepare yourself!” I said and launched myself up into the sky.

Nels pointed his sword at me, hoping I would land on top of it. Big mistake. I swung around, kicking his sword out of my way with one boot and landed the other right on his nose. With a loud crack, his nose broke and he fell on his back with blood streaming down his face. I was getting quite good at breaking noses. I didn’t gave him time to recover or get up but planted my foot on his wrist and took the sword away. I then stepped back and gave him some room to breath.
,,I hope this is a good lesson for you. Anyone else might have just killed you without giving you a fair chance. Now get out of our sight.”

That night, Zarador told the story for all to hear, arousing a few laughs. The hostess told me that Nels Lendo was a like a big child with silly ideas. He came to her tavern often so she was glad I did not kill him. I was glad myself as I didn’t like killing to be honest. While the stars travelled the sky outside, I entertained myself and the other patrons with a fine act of egg juggling. All in all, I’d say that the end of that day’s trip wasn’t that bad at all. It was certainly better than the start. Tomorrow though, we would arrive at Arkngthand. The fact that I could speak that name without any difficulty still came as a bit of a surprise. It was probably another piece of my Dwemer heritage. When Zarador attempted to speak the name, it sounded as if he was choking on something.




Note: Nels Lendo's quest takes an interesting twist if you play as a female. Ro-El isn't one though, so no 'I'd rather kiss Rolly over there' jokes.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Jan 5 2007, 11:04 PM