Necromancer's Dream, A Story of Arvas Options

[Lord Veneficus]

I know, it's short; just bear with me.

Chapter I

Arvas sat in the dim, noisy tavern on the outskirts of the Imperial City. The drunkards stumbled about the room, bumping into tables and spitting curses at the more sober groups of people. Much raucous laughter filled the smoky air as traveling minstrels strummed their lutes and pounded on their drums. The innkeeper was hunched over a dirty glass, proceeding to wipe away the grime caked at the bottom of the mug. He was balding and almost as tall as Arvas; but due to his massive hunch, his head came up to Arvas’s chest. He was slowly swaying back and forth with to the tune of the music.

“Excuse me barkeep, can I have another tankard of beer, please,” Arvas asked, raising his cup up. The barkeep disappeared behind the counter and returned with a somewhat clean mug. He hobbled over to the beer tap and poured Arvas a generous amount. Arvas took the mug and raised it slightly, saying, “Thanks.” He downed the beer in minutes.

His life had recently taken a downfall. He had to flee Morrowind, as he wanted to free himself from the temple. He didn’t agree with all of their beliefs.

A man had stood up, knocking his chair over in the process. His staff glowed with bright blue magicka. No one seemed to care as he screamed into the face of a rather bulky man, who was unfazed by the dark-robed mage in his face. He rather stared off into space. “I…I could… kill ye righ’ now if ye wanted me too, Bjorn.” He stuttered as he wobbled to the door. Arvas stood from the creaky old stool and began for the door. The innkeeper looked at him and said, “Where you goin’ boy? Come pay for this.” He shook the empty mug at him. Arvas sprinted from the tavern, away from the Imperial City.

He entered the fort that he had cleared out a few days ago. It wasn’t very large because it was only built for a captain and several of his men. The beds were ancient and holes were eaten out of the sheets from the many moths that floated about in the darkness. He slumped down into his bed and attempted to sleep, which proved difficult. He was worried that at any moment someone could come in his small makeshift home and take him back to Vvardenfell.

After two hours of tossing and turning, he finally fell asleep, dreaming of one day becoming the greatest sorcerer of the ages…



This post has been edited by Lord Veneficus: May 13 2008, 01:12 PM