A Champion's Journey, The Imperial Simulacrum Options

[mALX]

This is as real as it gets, from the battles to the feelings of irritation or exhaustion. Your descriptions and attention to detail are amazing! I love the Arena storyline anyway, and love what you are doing with it! I saw an extra comma in the first paragraph, but who cares? This ROCKS!!!!

[Verlox]

Chapter Twelve: Going to Port

Ernand had fallen back into slumber not long after Ria had visited him. This time he dreamed of nothing important, and whatever happened was soon forgotten in the morning. But Ria’s words still remained. To Fang Lair he must go.

But how do I even get there, Ernand thought as he pulled his tunic over his head, Hammerfell is hundreds of miles away. I suppose that a Mages Guild Guide could get me some of the distance, he struggled to pull on his pants, and when he did, fumbled with the straps to tighten them. Maybe Ethredor can help. He’ll probably know something. Having finished getting dressed, Ernand moved over to the armor rack that had been put out for him. He had asked a servant the night before for it to be cleaned, and he was not disappointed. The mithril shined even in the chamber’s dim light, and it bore no scars from the brawl the day before. Lifting the vest from the rack, he slipped it over his head, still marveling that it was that easy to don, and he had little trouble snapping the vambraces over his forearms.

All that was left was to buckle his sword to his waist. Here, Ernand hit a problem; he could not find the elven blade. Bemused, the Breton scoured the room, looking into every nook and cranny he could find. First he looked behind the armor stand and saw nothing. Second, he looked around the bed and under it; once again he found nothing. Muttering to himself angrily, he stalked out of the chamber, slamming the door behind him. Stomping down to the ground level of the manor, Ernand could heard the loud noise of Ethredor consuming his morning meal. Maybe he knows where it is, Ernand thought as he entered the dining room to the sight of the merchant draining a bowl of porridge. When the elf noticed his guess standing there, he sat the bowl down and gave Ernand a grin.

“Well, good morning, Ernand. Did you sleep well?”

“Indeed, I did,” Ernand answered coolly, “Have you seen my sword? I can’t find it in my chamber.” Ethredor put his hand to his chin and stroked it a bit before snapping his fingers.

“That’s right! I sent it to the smith. The blade looked a little dinged, and I thought you’d do it anyway. Save you the trouble.”

“Oh! Well, thank you, Ethredor.” Relieved that his weapon was in good hands, Ernand took the elf’s invitation to breakfast. When the Breton commented that breakfast seemed over, pointed at the three bowels piled up next to Ethredor’s arm, the elf only grinned, saying that was only an appetizer.

When the real meal was brought in, Ethredor jumped right into it, devouring the glazed ham set before him. Ernand was more paced, though, and started on a bit of bread smeared with cheese. “So what did you do to those Nords of yours?” he asked after he swallowed the bread, “Did you send them packing?”

“You could say that. I sent them to my manor in Dragonstar. I’m going to be heading up that way soon to deal with Skyrim. That war of theirs is becoming quite….profitable.”

“Profitable it may be for you,” Ernand drawled, “But it’s draining the Imperial Treasury dry trying to contain it. If the war of Bend’r-Mahk goes on much longer, it will bankrupt the Empire!”

Ethredor perked an eyebrow up, “You think so? I’m not sure I agree with you. Emperor Uriel,” a light grin crossed Ethredor’s face and then was gone, “He seems smart enough to make provisions for tough times.”

“Mayhap he has,” Ernand agreed grudgingly, “But the war needs to end! The Legions need to be withdrawn from the stable provinces and Black Marsh since it can hardly be considered a province, and deployed along the border to provide a buffer. No army in the world can stand against the Imperial Legion!”

Ethredor regarded Ernand with a skeptical look, but forbore to make a further fuss over it. “Look at it this way, my friend, the war isn’t affecting you much, safe here in Valenwood as you are. So unless the khajiit try to steal more land along the Xylo River again, it’s not likely you’ll be seeing the effects of war.”

“Well,” Ernand raised his hand to scratch the back of his head and looked away from his host, “I must make for Hammerfell as quickly as possible.” That Ethredor was taken aback would be an understatement by Ernand’s standards, and he coughed on his ham for a full minute before finally clearing his throat.

“I thought you just said you wanted the war to end?” Seeing Ernand confused look, the elf elaborated, “There are only two reasons an armed man steps into Hammerfell these days. Pirating, or as a mercenary. You don’t have the look of a pirate, so it stands to reason you seek employment as a fighter.”

“What?” Ernand questioned indignantly, “Of course I’m not going there as a mercenary!”

“Then why?”

Ernand choked on his own words. He couldn’t very well tell the elf he was going to plunder the Fang Lair, not without a great deal of suspicion. And while he had no reason to think Ethredor would betray him, the thought that his tale could eventually reach Jagar Tharn in Cyrodiil, and that he might find a knife in his back later on, held his tongue. So, Ernand lied.

“Will you swear that what I’m about to tell you won’t leave this room?” Ethredor leaned in, nodding vigorously, an excited smile on his lips. “Well, remember how I told you I was coming up from Longvale? Well, I’m still in their employ. The Altmer sorcerers down there require a certain book held in Sentinel’s library. They’ve sent me to get it.”

“Oh,” Ethredor clapped his hands together in excitement, “I do so adore espionage. What is the book for?”

“No idea. They did not tell me.”

“Figures,” Ethredor scoffed, “Altmer never tell anyone anything. Well, you’ve satisfied my curiosity. So how do you plan on getting there?”

“I don’t know,” Ernand shrugged, “Boat I guess.” Ethredor seemed to go into deep thought for a moment, and this time it was Ernand’s turn to quirk an eyebrow. “What are you thinking?”

“You know,” the elf mused, “You could take a ship to Stros M’Kai. The Mages Guild there could then teleport you to Rihad. It would cost a bit more; Guild Guiding isn’t cheap, especially for a non-member, but it would save you a few days of sea travel.”

“A good plan,” Ernand agreed, “But what port should I take?”

“Emperor’s Run. It’s the only decent port on the western coats. Filled with Altmer, though. Outside of Elden Root, it’s their main hub. And I would avoid the road by Falinesti, and take the trail straight to Emperor’s Run.”

“I thank you, Ethredor. You’ve been most kind to me, acts I will not soon forget.”

Etherdor waved off Ernand’s thanks. “You’ve more than repaid me by selling me that jewel of yours. Our trade was a fair deal, but I intend to swindle some Nibeneans fop for all the septims he’s got!” The two shared a hearty laughed before Ethredor once again spoke. “I suspect you’ll be wanting to get going as soon as possible. Master Ausk has your blade.”

Ernand nodded. Wiping his mouth and hands on his napkin, he stood from his seat. Extending his hand, which Ethredor took, the two shared a handshake. Silently, Ernand slipped out of the dining room and then out of the manor. With one last look to make sure the Breton was gone, Ethredor sighed.

Are you alone?

Ethredor sighed, “Yes, Master. My guest is gone.”

You have been in Valenwood for too long, Asuul. You know where I need you. Skelos Undriel must not be allowed to live!

“Is he truly such a threat to you, Master?”

Perhaps not, but I do not want to take the risk. You must for the Reach immediately. Find Lakvan, he’ll know where to go from there.

“I hear and I obey, Master.”

*

After a quick stop by the smithy to pick up his sword, Ernand made his way over to to Malgoth’s stables. Knocking on the door, Ernand called out, “Moth, open up! I need my horse!” Getting no response, he slammed on the door with his fist a few more times. “C’mon! I need to get going!” After a few moments, the door slowly creaked open revealing a young Bosmer, his eyes wide with suppressed fear.

“Can—can I help you, sir?”

“Aren’t you one of the stable hands?” the youth nodded. “Where’s Moth?”

“I don’t know. He never returned last night.”

Ernand frowned. Moth’s entire life seemed to center around his stable, and it seemed strange to the Breton that he would leave it for even the shortest of times, let alone an entire night. A memory of the night before surfaced then, the Breton remembering that he had seen the Bosmer, red-faced and embarrassed, flirting with a young lady at a cook’s booth.

Grinning at the young Bosmer, Ernand comforted him by saying, “I would fear for your master. He’s probably just taking his,” the grin got wider, “Ease somewhere.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. Now,” Ernand pushed the door in a little, encountering little resistance from the stable hand, “Could you saddle my horse? I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

The little elf had brightened enormously now that he was assured his master was safe and well. Leading his client to the stables, he had the Breton pick out his steed, and then went about the meticulous act of saddling the mount. That achieved, he led the horse out for Ernand inspection.

Pleased at the stable hands work, he reached into the coin-purse at his side, drawing from it a shiny coin. “A septim for your trouble,” he said as he flipped the coin to ecstatic Bosmer. Mounting the horse easily, Ernand guided it out of the stable and into the open air. Breathing deeply, he spurred it into a quick trot up the lane to the west. Following Ethredor’s advice, he swerved before getting on the road to Falinesti, getting on to a rough path that led straight through the woods to the port of Emperor’s Run and the Fang Lair.


This post has been edited by Verlox: Jun 2 2010, 04:03 AM

[mALX]

Not a lot going on here, but your detail is so excellent that I feel like I have seen the movie!!!! You have a knack for describing details that someone would notice if they were standing there - it brings even a quiet chapter to life in a way I envy !!!

[SubRosa]

All caught up again. Very exciting battle in the arena. But what is really interesting here is the fat merchant Ethredor, whom we see is really not fat, not a merchant, and not Ethredor! Who is he really, and who is this Master of his? Tharn perhaps? very interesting plot twist. I suspect we will be seeing more of him.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: May 20 2010, 03:30 PM

[Verlox]

Chapter Thirteen: A Night In Rihad

Ravena glared down the dark alleyway leading out from the street. The rank smell of animal carcasses and droppings, mixed with the scent of human refuse, created an invisible miasma that clang to the cramped alley like sweaty clothes to wet skin. A number of overturned whicker-baskets littered the way, along with crates and boxed stuffed with unsavory contents. Along the walls of the buildings that made the lane’s boundaries were set up stalls for the poorer merchants that couldn’t afford space in Rihad’s bazaar. These dingy booths were covered in trash, livestock remains; all set on top of grime-splattered tarps.

Wiggling her nose in disgust, the Ra’Gada woman moved to pass through the alley. The soles of her steel-shod boots made a ruckus as she went, crunching the trash beneath her. Due to the cramped construction of the alley, the saber dangling from her belt clinked against the stalls as she passed, making a dull thump every time it did. Since the streets were deserted, and all people of right morals abed at that hour, the dull thump of her sword seemed to be like a thousand vases crashing to ground in unison to her ears. Taking pity on herself, she drew the light blade from its scabbard, brandishing it before her like a torch to ward off what might lurk in the shadows.

Coming out of the alley, Ravena felt her senses relieved as fresh air, tinged with the smell of the sea, washed over her. After the near-total darkness of the alley, her eyes were also comforted by the reappearance of Masser and Secunda. The new street she had come out into was better lit than the other one she had been sneaking through before, and was even populated, but by those who one would want to meet after dark. A few yards from her position, standing under the lamp of the Crooked Crane stood three rough-bitten men who had the looks of sailors. In one hand, they each held a large bottle of local booze, and used the other to smoke rolled up tobacco-sticks. Now, seeing an armed woman clad in warriors dress, stepping from an alley with her weapon drawn, the thugs went wide-eyed with barely suppressed fear.

Ignoring her observers, Ravena sheathed the glittering blade, and confidently strode towards the door of the tavern. Light, and the noise of loud singing, were spilling from the front windows; a welcoming sight in these dark times. As she neared the door, Ravena noticed the three ruffians step back a few steps, giving her some space. Putting her hand onto the latch, she casually swiveled her face to look at the three thugs. Leaning towards them a bit, she whispered, “Boo!” and felt gratified when the thugs yelped, dropped their drinks, and fled down up the road. Laughing, Ravena wrenched open the door to the tavern and stepped in.

The sight to meet her was a very normal one for Hammerfell’s port cities, and one to gladden her eyes. Dark-skinned, brawny sailors on leave were all over the common room. The sounds of drunken sailors singing sea shanties rose up to the roof, the words so heavily slurred as to be unrecognizable. Near the hearth, a group of men and women were shooting dice for the game of Hazard, and the groans of disappointment or shouts of joy lilted over from that direction occasionally. From behind his bar, the tavernkeep, a short, wane little man with a large, bald head, chatted amiably with his inebriated patrons.

After standing in the doorway, ignored, for a few moments to take in the scene, Ravena moved through the crowd until she reached the bar. There, she pounded on the bar-top to get the tavernkeep’s attention. Turning to the sound of the slamming, the tavernkeep’s eyes lit up with joy.

“Ravena? Well,” the tavernkeep slapped his thigh and stepped towards the woman, “by Dibella’s bosoms it’s good to see ya, girl!”

“It’s good to see you, too, Jons.”

“I heard ya was back in town, and was wondering when ya’d come to see this old man. But I get the feelin’ this ain’t no social call.”

“You would be right,” Ravena responded gravely, “I’m looking for someone.”

“Yer always lookin’ for someone, ya bounty hunter! And you thought that ol’ Jons could help ya out, eh?”

“The thought did cross my mind. The Crooked Crane is the most popular tavern in the city and—,”

Jons interrupted her. “Indeed! Indeed it is, girlie. Took me twenty years to do it, too. Paid me taxes, took the thugs off the street, knew the right,” he winked at Ravena and gave her a sly grin, “And the wrong, people. Now I have the briskest business this side of Hew’s Bane. If there’s someone ya be lookin’ for, good chances I’ve met him!”

“She, actually.” Dangling from her belt there was a case resembling a small bolt-carrier. Popping open the lid, Ravena pulled out a thick roll of papers. Unrolling them, she leafed through them until she stopped, pulling one paper from the roll. After shoving the others back into the case, she slapped the poster down onto the bar. Reaching for it, Jons turned it around to get a good look. On it was printed an artist’s representation of a pretty Dunmer woman.

[b]WANTED
One Neira Hlallu
For crimes against Taneth
And the garrison of Fort Sandmoth.

WILL ACCEPT DEAD OR ALIVE

Deliver to the office of Sandmoth’s Constable for payment.

Alive: 20,000 Imperial Septims Dead: 7,500 Imperial Septims[/b]

Despite his dusky skin, Ravena noticed how, when Jons read the name of her target, his face blanched. His hand tightened on the poster, his fingers digging into the thin parchment, and Ravena thought that the tavernkeep meant to crumple the paper up until it was unrecognizable.

“Jons?”

Hearing his name, the tavernkeep snapped out of his trance, and loosened his hold on the poster. “I’ve ne-never seen her before in me life,” Jons stammered, “Do-don’t see many dark elves in Rihad these days. This far west, most of them folk are in Wayrest.” He seemed to brighten noticeably then, and regained his composure. Snapping his fingers, he leaned on his elbow into the bar. “Yeah, them dark elves are probably clustered around their queen. Ya should probably head there.”

As Jons thought to turn away, Ravena lashed out and latched onto his arm. Turning to face her again, he noticed the look of suppressed fury in her eyes.

“There’s something you’re not telling me, Jons.”

“I-I don’t know what ya talkin’ about,” Jons squeaked.

Leaning further in, Ravena growled, “I’m going to come back in the morning. By then, you better know what I’m talking about.”

Releasing her grip, Jons stumbled back, grasping his forearm. With one more pointed, threatening look, Ravena turned on her heel and stalked out of the Crooked Crane, shoving out of her way those that blocked her.

As she left, a lithe, hooded figure stood from the dice game, despite the protests of the other players. Ignoring them, the figure moved towards the door, following in Ravena’s footsteps. As it neared the door, it shot a pointed glare in Jons direction, and when the tavernkeep noticed, he quickly busied himself by cleaning an already shining glass.

Out in the warm night, Ravena’s anger drained from her. While she had no sympathy for those who lied to protect criminals, she very well couldn’t blame Jons for trying to protect his life. But, she thought, at least I know who to question. She stopped suddenly, hearing a shuffling sound behind her, almost like a person stopping mid-step. Standing still for a few moments, Ravena continued walking up the lane towards an inn where she had rented a room. After a minute or two of walking, she stopped suddenly, listening for that same shuffling noise. This time it was unmistakable.

Wheeling around, Ravena wrenched her saber from its scabbard in fury. Faced with nothing but the moons-lit streets, she called out through gritted teeth, “Show yourself, or by Dagon I’ll find you myself! Where are you?”

Ravena heard another rustling noise, then heard, spoken right into her hear, “Behind you”. The next thing the Ra’Gada felt was a boot being pressed to her back, and a strong push that sent her tumbling to the ground.

Now fully enraged, Ravena leapt up onto her feet, brandishing her blade in front of her. Now that she could see he attacker, she took the figure in. Her assailant wore a tight-fitting suit of leather armor, and the shapely hips and jutting bosoms confirmed that it was a woman. A sand-colored cloak was draped over her with the hood up, and with a mask, it hid her face completely. The only thing that shown were the wild looking eyes. Red eyes. Dunmer eyes.

“Stendaar’s Justice, it’s you!” Ravena struck out with her blade in a sweeping arc, but the wide blow was easily parried by Neira’s curved dagger.

“Tsk, Tsk,” Neira said as she danced away from the Ra’Gada bounty hunter, “You’ll have to try better than that if you want to fight me, sweet heart.” Stepping back near her opponent, the Dunmer sidestepped Ravena’s attempt to cleave through her hood, then delivered a strike to Ravena’s solar plexus with the pommel of her dagger.

Neira stood over her foe as Ravena collapsed to the ground, the breath knocked out of her. With her foot, the elf kicked away her hunter’s saber before kneeling down next to the gasping woman. “I’m sorry I had to do that,” she whispered sweetly, “But you didn’t leave me any choice. I don’t like being hunted.”

“You murdered a man,” Ravena gasped between breaths, “And injured others. What did you expect?”

“Hmph,” Neira snorted indignantly, “What you call murder and assault, I call self-defense. If anyone ever touches me like that again,” she raised her hand, and extended her index finger. Then, with her dagger, she made the motion of chopping it off, then balled her fist, “I’ll do something worse than kill him and beat up his thugs.” Neira was about to continue when she heard the sound of footsteps and people coming up the lane. Getting to her feet, the Dunmer gave one more dismissive look to her adversary before sheathing her dagger, then took off running up the lane, her cloak billowing out behind her.

Fleeing down and alley, kicking the trash out of her way, Neira emerged into a dimly-lit square. By now, she could hear the sounds of the alarm being raised by the men who, doubtlessly, stumbled upon Ravena gasping for air. Casting her eyes calmly about the square for a fast way out, Neira’s eyes landed on a man and his horse.

Outside the dimly lit traveler’s stop, a common sight in western Hammerfell, a young man was brushing down his steed as it drank for a water trough. With his cowled cloak, and his back turned to her, Neira couldn’t determine what race the man was. However, by appearance he wasn’t very tall, and despite the curved sword hanging from his hip, he didn’t seem very threatening either. Moving quickly on her toes, the Dunmer woman snuck quietly up behind the man as he ran his hands through his horse’s mane. Not noticing her, she took her chance and slipped her dagger around his neck, and with her free-hand, twisted his sword arm behind his back.

“Hey…What-what’s going on?” He struggled for a bit, but quickly stopped when he felt Neira’s knife prick his throat. “What do you want?” he asked in a much more serious tone, “Let me guess, my money or my life?”

Laughing gently into his ear, Neira cooed, “Oh my, nothing so low as that, darling. I just want your horse. Now we can do this the easy way,” she started to loosen her grip on the man’s arm, “Or the hard way,” and then she promptly applied more pressure, eliciting a soft yelp from her target.

“Well, as much as I’m a – ow – glutton for punishment, I think I’ll take the easy way.” Released from Neira’s grasp, the man turned to finally face his mugger.

Seeing his face for the first time, the Dunmer forgot she was likely being pursued. “Long way from home, aren’t you, Breton?”

The Breton flashed a white smile. “You could say that, yes. And now that you’re taking my horse I’ll--” The man stopped speaking; cocking his head to the side as if listening for something. “Did you hear that? Sounds like people coming.” When he turned his attention back to the girl, he found that she was no longer standing beside him, but was already mounted up on the massive horse.

“I’m really sorry about this,” Neira said as she wheeled the horse north, “If I ever meet you again, I’ll make it up to you.”

“Hey-whoa, wait! What did you do?” But before he could fully complete the question, Neira had kicked at her mount’s side, spurring it north, towards the only gate that was open at night. Left alone in the dust, the Breton slumped forward and frowned. “Well that was rude.” The man was soon joined by a crowd of people wielding numerous weapons and carrying torches. At the head of this mob was a furious Ra’Gada woman holding in her hand a saber.

“You there,” she called in a voice as enraged as she looked, “Identify yourself!”

The Breton backed up some, putting his arms out in front of him as if to ward off evil. “Whoa, whoa, calm down. If you’re looking for--”

“I said identify yourself,” the Ra’Gada roared again.

“Er-Ernand Leoriane.”

Satisfied, the mob surged into the square and spread out into all direction. The woman, for her part, walked up to Ernand. The look on her face was not one to give him any comfort, but at least she didn’t seem intent on killing him.

“Where did she go? Ravena whispered fiercely, “We know she came in here. Did you see her?”

See her?” Ernand almost laughed, “I did more than see her. She nigh broke my arm and stole my horse. That Dunmer is likely almost to the gate by now.”

A crestfallen look replaced Ravena’s angry one, but only for a few moments. Then, murderous rage.

“Damnit. Damnit! DAMNIT!”


This post has been edited by Verlox: Jun 2 2010, 04:04 AM

[haute ecole rider]

I see I haven't commented on this recently. Shame on me.

Good stuff, still. I loved your description of Rihad, and of Ravena the bounty hunter. The interaction between her and Neira was very enjoyable.

“Hmph,” Neira snorted indignantly, “What you call murder and assault, I call self-defense. If anyone ever touches me like that again,” she raised her hand, and extended her index finger. Then, with her dagger, she made the motion of chopping it off, then balled her fist, “I’ll do something worse than kill him and beat up his thugs.”

Spoken like a true independent woman (or a female veterinarian - we practice multiple methods, ya know )!

Again, enjoyable and well done!

[Olen]

Neira seems to be a strange one, I like how you made the criminal more likeable than the law enforcer it adds intregue to the characters.

Good movement to the plot though, makes me want to see what comes next.

Good stuff.

[mALX]

Ditto Olen's comment, I can't say it any better, and it is exactly how it struck me! Great Write!

[SubRosa]

Your first paragraph paints a very strong (and disgusting) picture of the darker underside of Rihad. It creates a dark, dingy mood that suits the piece very well, being that it centers on a bounty hunter and her quarry.

Exciting action, characters who are smart, and use those smarts, what is not to like? A good solid chapter that leaves me wanting to see more of these new characters!


nits:
created an invisible miasma that clang to the cramped alley
clang means to make noise. Clung is the word you are looking for.


a short, wane little man with a large, bald head,
I think you meant wan?


Now that she could see he attacker, she took the figure in.
That will be her, I am sure.


Outside the dimly lit traveler’s stop, a common sight in western Hammerfell,
My map shows Rihad as being at the very eastern end of Hammerfell, practically in Cyrodiil?

Lastly, you were head-hopping from one pov character to another throughout the piece. You start with the pov firmly in Ravena's head, then it briefly moves to Neira as she steals Ernands' horse, then finally ends up with him. If you want to change pov, then you need to completely stop the scene, put in some sort of divider so we know it is over, and then start a brand new scene from the new pov. Otherwise it becomes very confusing. Think of it as a film, where you have one camera and microphone, and they reside in the head of your pov character. Before you can move the camera, you have to end the scene.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: May 27 2010, 05:43 PM

[Verlox]

.

This post has been edited by Verlox: Jun 2 2010, 03:03 AM

[mALX]

ROFL !!!!

[Verlox]

Chapter Fourteen: Down to Business

The square was deserted now except for Ernand and Ravena. The men of Rihad that had come to the bounty hunter’s aid had taken their leave, grumbling in irritation that they had been awoken from their slumbers for nothing. With their leaving, the Ra’Gada’s anger and annoyance with the whole night’s situation exploded on the only target available.


Putting him his arms to up ward away Ravena’s anger, Ernand took a few steps back saying, “Look, I don’t know anything about that woman.”

“You lie!” Ravena yelled furiously, “Where did she go? By Malacath if you don’t tell me…” With her sentence trailing off, that served to heighten the Breton’s fear for his safety. “Where is her hideout? Tell me now!”

“Hey,” a shout rang out from above the pair, “Shut up down there! People are trying to sleep!”

Turning her anger from the Breton, she began to berate the pedestrian in such colorful language that, when she turned back to Ernand, she noticed that the look of fear on his face had been replaced with one of complete, and total, shock.

“Are you done?” Ernand asked in a flat voice, “Or was that just a warm up?” Giving him a sinister glare, Ravena then sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. Sympathetic to her distress, the Breton took a few paces towards her. “Look,” he began in a consoling tone, “I would tell you what you wanted to know if I could. Hell, that woman did steal my horse after all. But I just got to Rihad myself.”

Looking up at him, Ravena’s eyes narrowed. “Where are you coming from?” she asked suspiciously.

“Valenwood,” the Breton responded honestly, “I was on a ship for about a week.” With a grin manifesting itself on his face, Ernand continued in a cheery voice. “So, I very well couldn’t have been in league with that woman.”

“But she took a horse that you provided…” Despite her words, doubt had crept into her voice, and she couldn’t help but question Ernand in a more civil tone. Straightening her posture, Ravena regarded Ernand with a steely gaze, asking, “What were you doing out her this late anyway?”

“Me?” Ernand leaned back against the wall of the hostel that the bounty hunter had backed him into to, “I was just watering my horse,” he said pointing to the filled trough of water down on his right, “And then that woman came along and stole it.”

Ravena grunted. “Well, looks like I get to add another crime to her list. Horse-theft is a hanging offense in Hammerfell.” Dropping her hand to the hilt of her sword, Ravena looked up into the night sky and sighed. A cloud had drifted in front of Masser, but Secunda and the stars still shown brightly in the night sky.

“I almost had her,” she said suddenly, “And that damned Jons knew she was here! Damnit, I’ll gut him for this!”

Ernand quirked an eyebrow, asking, “Who is Jons? A friend of yours?”

“Not anymore,” Ravena spat, “He’s the owner of the Crooked Crane.” Seeing his lack of comprehension, Ravena gave a labored sigh and continued. “It’s a popular tavern near the docks. I expected, rightly apparently, that I might be able to get some information about Neira there.”

“Neira?” Ernand cocked his head to the side, “So that’s her name. Sounds elven.”

“Yeah, she’s one of those damned, dangerous Dark Elves. Anyway, Jons just evaded the question when I asked about her. Then, lo and behold, I get attacked in the streets. If that murdering witch hasn’t killed him yet, I sure as hell will!”

Ernand shook his head, giving a slight chuckle, and crossing his hands in front of himself several times. “Let’s not get hasty now, he might have information we need.”

This time it was Ravena’s turn to loaf of bread her eyebrow in question. “’We’? I don’t need your help.”

“True that may be, I want my horse back. Traveling on foot takes too long.”

“So why don’t you just buy another one?” She motioned from his feet to his head, indicating his fine clothes and silver armor, “Honestly, you look like you could just buy another one.”

Ernand exhaled in mild irritation, “I bought that horse in Valenwood. True, I could buy another one here, but horses here in the West are expensive. That steed cost me about nine-hundred septims, and it was as fine a horse as I’ve ever ridden. Nine-hundred here? That would buy me an old nag.”

“Fine, point taken,” the Ra’Gada groaned. “Ok, I know I’ll regret this; you don’t look like you’ve ever hunted a person before. But we can talk about that later. For now, let’s just go beat some information out of Jons, then we’ll talk about how to split the bounty.” Turning on her heel, Ravena left the square with Ernand in tow.

*

The night is always darkest before the dawn. As Ernand and Ravena made their way through the pitch-black streets, the only light being provided by the Breton’s light spell, the stars began to blink out one by one. Masser never did make another appearance that night, and Secunda had joined its elder brother behind the clouds. However, with Ravena navigating the streets by Ernand’s provided light, the pair arrived at the Crooked Crane just as Rihad was entering the twilight hours of dawn.

Not even bothering to check if the door was locked, Ravena leaned into the door, and bringing herself back, slammed her whole body into the portal. Ernand himself winced, casting wary eyes about the scene to assure himself there were no witnesses to this particular crime.

“Was that really necessary,” Ernand asked as he followed the bounty hunter through the busted doorway, almost tripping over the remains of the broken door, “I mean, is not this a crime, as well?”

Ravena turned her head, giving the Breton as fierce glare that sent a chill down his spine. Quietly, she sternly whispered, “He fears that Dark Elf…Jons needs to know to fear me!”

“Ok,” Ernand murmured, “But when we get arrested, I’m going to tell the watch it was all your fault.” Ravena, for her part, gave a snort that passed as a laugh.

The common room was dark, the hearth fire having been allowed to burn down to cinders. Narrowing his eyes, Ernand was able to make out the room clearly enough, and he sighed with relief. They had been lucky enough for no others to be present in the common room; sailors to drunk to even leave the tavern.

“Toss up another one of your spells, Breton,” came the Ra’Gada’s voice through the darkness, “I can’t see a thing in this darkness, and we need to find the stairs.”

With a quick utterance of an incantation of Light from Ernand’s mouth, a softly murmured “pallo valon”, the tavern was lit up with the created orb’s soft, green light. Able to see easily now, the duo found the way up to the next level, a narrow staircase tucked away in the storeroom behind the bar.

As they began to ascend, Ravena stopped suddenly, causing Ernand to stumbled before reaching out to the wall to steady himself. “Why are we stopping?” the Breton asked, “Are you having second thoughts?”

“No. I want you to stay down here and watch the streets. If anyone comes looking in, come get me.”

“Well, with the remains of a door in an empty doorway, I’m sure someone will come looking,” Ernand snorted, “So you better make it quick.”

After saluting Ravena as she continued up the dark staircase, Ernand sighed and turned around to walk back down the stairwell. As he neared the bottom, his magick petered out, forcing him to toss-up another Light spell. Uttering the incantation, a orb of light flew up above his head, hitting the ceiling of the storeroom, where it stayed.

Moving over to the wall opposite the heavy oaken door, the Breton plopped down onto a bench between two large shelves cluttered with jugs of booze, utensils, and old food. If this is Hammerfell’s idea of a popular tavern, I’m glad Skyrim is winning the war up north. Leaning his head back against the hard clay wall, Ernand’s thoughts turned from the seedy tavern to his entire situation.

I set out to find the Fang Lair, and what happens? I get my horse stolen, and now I’m involved in breaking and entering. Me, an upstanding member…[i/] Ernand gave a slight chuckle that held little humor, [i]Former member, of the Elder Council. Damn you, Ria, you just HAD to pull me into this, didn’t you? Sure, no one knows I escaped from Tharn’s little private dungeon, but by recovering pieces of the Balac-Thurm, doesn’t that make me more vulnerable? Like a candle bobbing in the dark; I’ll be visible to his wicked magick. Groaning, Ernand leaned forward, burying his face in his hands. Rubbing the exhaustion and frustration from his eyes, he looked up, cupping his chin in his palms.

Faint light had begun to filter in through the small window near the ceiling on the wall to his left, and his thoughts took another turn. “Has it been one month already,” he said out loud, “One month since I was dropped out of the sky into that damp forest? I wonder if those elves are alright.”

His thoughts got no further due to the sudden bout of cursing he heard come down from the top of the stairs. Like before in the square, it was colorful enough to peel paint off walls.

“Looks like the hunter found her quarry. I wonder how long it will take to make the kill.”

*

“Oh, sweet merciful Stendaar,” screamed Jons when, by the scruff of his nightgown, he was torn from his bed, “How did ye get in here?”

A terrifying grin crossed Ravena’s face as she pulled him closer, her great strength lifting the smaller Ra’Gada off the floor.

“What, weren’t expecting me to come back so early? I told you I’d be back, didn’t I. Or is that you didn’t expect me to come back at all; in fact, you expected me to be found in the morning with a knife in my back!”

“Oh, Ravena,” he blubbered, “I swear I don’t know what ye be talking about!”

“Liar! You knew Neira was here, didn’t you?” She violently shook Jons, and his head violently snapped back and forth, “Didn’t you! Where is she hiding?”

“I swear to ye, on me sweet mother’s grave that I-,” Jon’s didn’t get any further before Ravena flung him down onto the floor with a resounding thud. Out of her grasp now, the barkeep made an attempt to crawl away, but the combined effects of his large form, and frayed nerves only allowed him to move at a snail’s pace. Such was his fear, he was unable to do anything about the well-placed kick to his stomach, knocking the wind out of him, and forcing him flat to the floor.

Fiercely turning him over to face her, Ravena kneeled until she was right in Jons’s face. After staring at him until he started to whimper, Ravena snarled, “Where. Is. She?”

After a few moments of catching his breath, and his mind not working in tandem with his mouth, he managed to squeak, “Chougand. Sh-sh-she has a safe house in Chougand.”

“There,” Ravena said in an almost demonically sweet tone, “Was that so hard?” Getting fully to her feet, Ravena gave him a little tap with her toe, sending him into another fit of weeping. With a savage laugh, the bounty hunter turned on her heel and stalked from the barkeep’s chamber, and back down the stairs into the storeroom.

When she fully descended, she found Ernand still sitting there. “So, did you get what you wanted?”

Ravena grinned and winked, saying with brutal satisfaction, “Did you doubt me? Come on, we better get moving.”

“Where are we headed?” Ernand asked as he stood from the bench, muttering a incantation of dispel, plunging the storeroom into shadows once again.

“Chougand. It’s about an hour’s walk up the shore. A little fishing village. The turd upstairs says Neira has a safe house there. If she does, that Dark Elf is probably gone by now, but it’s a good place to start.”

[haute ecole rider]

I'm finding that I'm enjoying this irascible bounty hunter quite a bit! Oooh, scary!

However, there's this:

This time it was Ravena’s turn to loaf of bread her eyebrow in question.

Normally I can figure out what is meant when the censor kicks in, but I've never seen this one, and I can't imagine what she would be doing with her eyebrow to warrant the creative editing!

[Verlox]

I think my new signature explains it.

This post has been edited by Verlox: Jun 4 2010, 04:58 AM

[Olen]

Haute I should imagine she was 'matured male chickening' her eyebrow (which somehow sounds worse). Seriously though since when was that even a rude word?

Good piece, I'm enjoying how this is moving forwards with lots of side questswhich move the main one along. Makes me want to know not only if he'll get his horse back and when he'll get to fang lair but which side he will fall on when Ravena finds her quarry... I like how you've shown Ravena, she's a good character and not nessesarily any better than Neira, in fact I wonder if there is more behind her search...

One nit:
You got a bbcode tag wrong in the italicised section:

ember…[i/] Ernand gave a slight chuckle that held little humor, [i]Former memb

[mALX]

Ravena may just have met her match in Ernand, he continues to stay cool at all times! And my, what a nice loaf of bread he has! Is that whole wheat? ROFL !!!!

This post has been edited by mALX: Jun 4 2010, 04:44 PM

[SubRosa]

I like how you described the moons, and their movements, during the story. The two moons are one of the things about the ES setting I do not like, as they always throw me with thoughts of how much light they cast, what shade it is, and what their cycles are.

If this is Hammerfell’s idea of a popular tavern, I’m glad Skyrim is winning the war up north.
zing!

Ravena is certainly a bull in a china shop! She is a very fun character to read. I love her breaking down the door of the tavern!


haute: the board does not randomize swears. Its replacements are always the same for each word. The word you are looking for is a variation of rooster, only it starts with a 'c'.


nits
“What were you doing out her this late anyway?”
A typo on here.


the only light being provided by the Breton’s light spell,
The word light is repeated here. I think you can just delete the second instance and the sentence will read fine.


sailors to drunk to even leave the tavern.
A typo on too.


[i/] Ernand gave a slight chuckle that held little humor, [i]
Something went wrong with your italics code here.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jun 5 2010, 03:49 PM

[Verlox]

Thanks for the comments, ya'll!

Something went wrong with your italics code here.

You got a bbcode tag wrong in the italicised section:

I think that may be because I type the bbcodes in word, rather than putting them in here. Doesn't surprise me I would screw up eventually.

Ravena may just have met her match in Ernand, he continues to stay cool at all times! And my, what a nice loaf of bread he has! Is that whole wheat? ROFL !!!!

Well, he is a politician. If he can't stay cool, bad things happen. Don't worry 'bout it though, he ain't no stoic.

And now the next chapter, with 100% less loaf of bread. For now

Chapter Fifteen: The Old Village by the Sea

Magnus, the sun, was just beginning to peek over the horizon when Ernand stuck his head out of the smashed-in doorway. An early morning mist shrouded Rihad, obscuring his visibility, but the Breton didn’t see any silhouettes of possible witnesses to the crime that had just occurred that early morning. After turning his head, first to the right then the left, to make sure things were clear on all sides, the motioned with his hand for Ravena to move. The Ra’Gada shoved past him into the street, seeming to not even care if they were caught. Ernand, on his part, moved out of the tavern at a much more sedate pace.

As they began to put distance between themselves and the tavern, Ernand asked, “So if Chougand is just a fishing village, why would Neira be hiding there. You’d think she would choose a better place.”

Ravena chuckled with constrained amusement, something the Breton was learning to expect from her. “You have a lot to learn, Ernand. This place she has in Chougand is just a safe house. There is a big,” she illustrated this by throwing her arms out wide, “Difference between safe house and hide out.”

“So there is a good chance she isn’t there anymore?”

“Hmph, I’d say a bigger chance than ‘good’. That Dark Elf probably bugged out hours ago.”

Ernand quirked an eyebrow in question. “So why are we even bothering to go? If she has already left-,” He got no further as Ravena lightly slapped the back-side of his head. “What was that for?!”

But the bounty hunter ignored her companion’s indignation. “It’s the only lead we have, so we might as well take it. Besides,” she shrugged her shoulder, “We might find a few clues as to where she went…Maybe even horse tracks. And if not, I’m sure a few coins to the village people will get us at least a little something.”

“Ah, bribery,” Ernand sighed, his former annoyance with being hit forgotten, “Is there nothing it can’t solve.”

Ravena grinned and snapped her fingers into a point up under the Breton’s chin, “There are few things that can’t be solved by throwing money at it. For everything else,” her grin got a little wider, “There’s violence.”

As Ravena guffawed at her own joke, Ernand politely joined in with a sedate chuckle. Ahead, Rihad’s western gate loomed. Constructed of the same red stone of the cities walls, topped with stout wooden towers, it was an imposing structure. The guards on duty there courteously nodded their heads as the pair exited the city-proper into the small agricultural community outside the walls.

Unlike the people of the city, who would continue to sleep for a few more hours, the farming folks were already up an about their business. Having been born in cosmopolitan Alcaire, Ernand had never been very exposed to agriculture, but he found it interesting. Winter was coming to a close, and despite the fields not yet being ready for planting, the growers had already begun cultivating their fields in preparation. The men, behind metal plows drawn by wide-shouldered oxen, turned the soil, as their women went to battle against invasive winter weeds.

It was a good honest life, and Ernand found it boring.

“So how long of a walk did you say it was?”

Ravena, too, had been taking in the agriculture, and by the look on her face, she felt as he did. “Hm? Oh, Chougand is about an hour’s walk. Could have been less if we had ridden.”

“Well, my apologies for slowing you down,” Ernand said with a frown, “If she has already left, she has probably taken my horse, as well.”

“Probably.”

Seeing Ravena’s obvious disinterest in his plight with his horse, the Breton decided to change the subject. “So what did Neira do to get such a bounty on her head?”

Turning her head slightly, Ravena narrowed her eyes on Ernand. “Why do you want to know?”

Ernand raised an eyebrow, saying, “I think I should know what a person has done if I’m hunting her.”

“Not really, no,” Ravena said as she shook her head, “All that matters is that the bounty gets fulfilled.”

“Can you tell me anyway?”

Groaning, Ravena hung her head for a few moments, looking at her boots as they continued to walk. After that, she snapped her head back. “Fine, if you want to know so badly. She broke out of Taneth’s prison, killing the sheriff, and assaulting the guards.”

Ernand gave a low whistle. Raising his hand, he scratched the back of his neck while saying, “So she was already in prison to begin with. What did she do?”

“Pff,” the Ra’Gada scoffed, “I don’t know. Probably burglary or something similar, maybe murder. Don’t worry; Neira Hlallu isn’t one of those high-profile criminals. If she was, the Legion would be personally taking care of her. But when we find her, don’t underestimate her.”

“I notice you say ‘when’, not ‘if’. So you’re confident we can catch her?”

“Sure am. There are only a few place she can go. Roseguard is Taneth’s territory, and Rihad has been alerted to her presence. Mt. Corten would be my first choice, but it would take to long to get there. But she can’t have gone far; she’s between a rock and a hard place.”

Nodding his understanding, Ernand lapsed into silence as he focused on the job ahead. Despite working with Ravena, whose drive when it came to Neria impressed him, he couldn’t help but feel some sympathy for the fugitive Dark Elf. He knew full well what could happen in provincial prisons. He was tempted to ask his companion if there had been an attempted rape, but the Breton got the feeling that the Ra’Gada wouldn’t know, and even if she did, wouldn’t care. And there could have been trouble if the Dark Elf hadn’t been given access to proper legal counsel.

Oh, Stendaar, save me. Do these people even care about proper Imperial legal procedure? Gods, it’s like the Interregnum all over again. Damn you, Tharn…This lawlessness is your fault.

*

The fishing village of Chougand wasn’t much to look at. Unlike Rihad’s sturdy buildings, the dwellings here were little more than just mud-huts with tarp roofs. Ernand had seen poorer areas before, the Alcaire slums weren’t the most pleasant of places. But the Breton had never seen such crushing poverty as he did when looking at Chougand. He didn’t see any men around, and the rickety-looking dock was empty of boats. Off getting at least a little something for the families it seems. Magnus had finally risen into the sky, and it looked to be a pleasant day, so Ernand silently said a prayer to Kynareth to give those fishermen a good haul.

As the pair entered into the village, the wives and children, both dressed in little more than rags, were instantly paying attention to the armed and armored duo. Great pity welled up in Ernand’s throat, and when he saw Ravena tugging on her saber to get down to business, the Breton reached out to stop her.

“Why don’t you let me take this one.”

Ravena looked at the man as if he had grown another head. “Why?” she asked quizzically.

“They’re just peasants,” he sighed, “You don’t need to threaten to burn down their village.”

“It would work.”

“True that may be, just,” he shut his eyes tightly and shook his hands near his ears to emphasize his frustration, “Just let me do this.”

“Fine,” Ravena almost shouted, shoving her saber back into its scabbard. “I’ll be over there,” she pointed to a large rock along the path they had just come up, “When you’re done talking to these dregs, come get me and we can get down to business.”

Ernand put on his best smile and waved to Ravena as she stalked off back down the path a bit, then turned to the gathering crowd of women and children.

“Hello, everyone. I’m sorry to disturb your labors, but me and my…friend,” he pointed with his thumb to the sulking Ra’Gada on the rock, “We’re looking for someone. We heard she might have come through here.”

They stared blankly at him.

Ernand shifted his eyes back and forth. “Umm…About five feet and eight inches,” he moved his hand over the top of his head, “About my height? Dark Elf, red eyes, bluish-gray skin?”

The older women looked at each other, saying a few words in Yoku. The Breton had never heard it spoken before, but he knew it was still used among the lower orders of Ra’Gada society.

Sighing in frustration, Ernand reached down to his waist for the coin-purse that hung from his belt. Unfastening it, he reached in and pulled out three Ten Septim coins. When he showed them to the crowd, he was instantly mobbed as they sought to reach for the glittering gold.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Ernand yelled as he backed up a bit, “If I’m given the information I want, you all can get some septims. But I need something to go on!” Their eyes fixed on the golden coins, the people of Chougand made haste to tell the Breton everything they knew. Yes, a Dark Elf woman had ridden in not long ago on a strong-looking horse. She had been to the village before as well a week or so ago. She had taken up a short residence in a hut on the shore. She had gone in briefly before striking out east at a very swift pace.

Ernand had to be quick to put coins in their open palms. And by the time he was done, and had the information he wanted, he had given out three-hundred septims to the people. With a friendly smile, and slight nod with his head, the Breton took his leave of the crowd still marveling at money won so easily.

As he walked back down the path to Ravena, his grin instantly tipped the bounty hunter off.

“Are you serious?” she exclaimed as she leaped from her perch, her mouth opened in shock, “How in Malacath’s name did you get anything from them?”

“I just followed your advice,” Ernand said and shrugged, “If there is a problem, throw money at it!”

Ravena raised her finger to say something, but despite her mouth being open, no words would come out. Seeing the Breton’s smug grin filled her with both mild rage and slight admiration.

Sighing heavily, she regained her composure then asked, “So what did you find out?”

“Enough,” Ernand shrugged, “She did have a place here, but it was probably little more than a bed and roof. The peasants also said she went east cross-country. So she’s avoiding roads.” When the Breton saw his companion’s eyes narrow, he tilted his head, “What? Something up?”

Ravena chuckled, “Well isn’t she just a brave little elf.”

“What do you mean?”

“There are only two things to the east,” Ravena began, locking her eyes on Ernand, “The border with Colovia, which has more bounty hunter than you can shake a stick at, and,” a small smile formed on her lips, “Stonekeep.”

“Stonekeep,” Ernand murmured under his breath, the very name sent a chill down his spine, “What is so special about that place?”

“It guards the road leading north from Rihad. It was overrun by goblins not too long ago, so it isn’t the safest place on Nirn.”

“And you think she went there?”

“I can guarantee it! Come on,” Ravena turned on her heel back towards the city, “Let’s go back to Rihad. Mounted, it should take us about four hours to get to that ruin.” Seeing Ernand about to protest, she waved him away, “Don’t worry about it, we’ll get you a mule to ride.”

He was about to really protest that, but Ravena gave him no chance. The Ra’Gada, seeing the end of her hunt before her, was filled with energy and had taken off jogging back to Rihad, leaving the Breton standing alone.

A mule? A mule?! What does she think I am, a monk?! Damnit….Well, at least I can get my horse back now.

Before setting off after Ravena, he turned his gaze east. Though he couldn’t see it, he could visualize the goblin-infested ruins of Stonekeep, and it wasn’t pleasant. Looking down for a moment, he said another prayer to Akatosh for protection for himself and Ravena. Then, milling it over for a few moments, added Neira into the prayer as well.

She’ll need it more than we do.

[haute ecole rider]

I have truly enjoyed the interchange between Ravena and Ernand. Made me chuckle more than once!

What? No loaf of bread??

[SubRosa]

Another fun installment! It looks like Ernand feels more sympathy for Neira than he does for Ravena, and I cannot blame him! I liked how at the end he includes the dark elf in his prayer, even though he is chasing her. It all makes perfect sense. In his shoes I would be too.

I also like how Ernand uses the term Magnus for the sun. That is a good touch at keeping the setting strong.

Gods, it’s like the Interregnum all over again.
Sure, blame Destri for it all!

nits:

There are only a few place she can go.
Looks like Neira stole your "s" in places, along with Ernand's horse.


but it would take to long to get there.
she heisted the extra "o" in too as well.


which has more bounty hunter than you can shake a stick at
and finally got the "s" in hunters.