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Old Habits Die Hard, Can an old dog learn new tricks? |
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| haute ecole rider |
Mar 17 2010, 09:57 PM
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Master

Joined: 16-March 10
From: The place where the Witchhorses play

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This is the story I have been posting on the Unnamed Forum. I'm in the process of moving it over here for those who have not yet seen it. Enjoy!
Chapter 1.1a Escape
Waking up vomiting nothing but a small amount of bile, I gagged on the burning in the back of my throat. Coughing the last of it from my mouth, I curled on my right side on the foul cot, knees drawn to my chest. The rough wood of the cot’s frame pressed into my cheek. The smith’s hammer pounding on the inside of my skull sent stars shooting across the backs of my eyes. Grinding the heels of my hands into my closed lids in an attempt to drive the lights away only made the damn hammer pound even harder. Groaning, I turned until I lay on my back, opening my eyes.
Ignoring the taste of moldy stones on my tongue, I gulped down deep breaths of the damp air. The stars subsided as I stared at the stone blocks rising into the gloom above my head. The hammering slowed to once every shaky breath. Raising my thin wrists, I looked at the iron shackles encircling their ache. The prominent veins in the backs of my hands disappeared as the blood drained from them. Turning them so their palms faced me, I studied the ghosts of rough calluses, dark skin pale in the dim light of the window above my head.
Shouting. Clashing of steel on steel. A dark room spinning around me. Pitchers breaking, fluid flying everywhere. The helmed face of the Legion rider before me, his gauntleted hand holding my shoulder in an implacable grip, shouting something at me. My empty hands between us, palms facing the rider, my voice drowned by the chaos around us. Then the cold night air, my bare feet cringing from the rough cobblestones. Falling through the paving into darkness.
“Ach, what happened?” I muttered softly to myself. In spite of my whisper, the smith’s hammer pounded hard for a couple of heartbeats before slowing down again. Struggling to a seated position, I ignored the familiar stabbing pain in my left side, the hard throbbing in my right knee. Scooting my rump along the cot, I reached the pitcher sitting on the rickety table at the foot of the cot. Looking into the mug next to it, I grimaced at the dirty fluid inside. Picking up the pitcher, I raised it to my lips. Trying to avoid tasting it, I gulped the stale water hurriedly. Taking another mouthful and setting the pitcher down, I rinsed my furry teeth with it. Rising to my feet and leaning my right hand on the wall, I limped to the privy at the rear of the cell, spitting the foul water out.
“Awake now, are you, pretty Redguard?” the sarcastic, biting voice sounded behind me. Shooting a glare over my shoulder, I took in the barred door, the Dunmer in his cell across the way. “How do you like your cell?” he continued, his voice still mocking. Pretty, am I? Disheveled, filthy, thin and weak - no, pretty would be the last word I’d use to describe myself.
Turning around, I took a limping step through the trickle of faint moonlight falling from a window too small to show stars. Another limp took me past the table, its pathetic candle shedding little additional light. One more step brought me to the cell door.
“Roomy enough for you?” the mocking continued as I studied the Dunmer. He looked as unhealthy as I felt. Turning away from him, I limped around the small room, hunched against the sharp pain in my left side. Nausea roiled in my stomach, and my muscles quivered uncontrollably, their former strength forgotten. “I can’t even imagine what it’s like for you,” the other’s voice followed me on my limited perambulation. “No more sunshine, no more open seas. Just a box and a dirty sunbeam for the rest of your sorry life. Bet you’re glad it won’t last long, eh?”
“What?” I returned to the barred door, squinting at the Dunmer across the way. “I won’t be here long?” my voice cracked, weak in my still-burning throat. My dry lips split as I spoke.
“Oh, didn’t you know?” The Dunmer’s voice turned bitter along with his faded red eyes. “They put you here to forget about you. They don’t care if you die, Redguard.” His sharp-edged voice grated on my already raw nerves. The sound of a bolt being drawn back, a heavy door creaking open somewhere down the passage reached us. “Hear that Redguard?” the Dunmer’s tone became strident. “They’re coming for you!” He drew back into the shadows of his cell as I heard voices.
“Tell me what happened to my sons,” an old man’s voice reached me, heavy with grief.
“Sire, all we know is that they were attacked,” a woman’s voice, clipped with authority and respect, responded as booted steps drew nearer the cells. “We must hurry, Sire, we need to get you to safety.” I heard the slightest undertone of anxiety in her voice.
A tall figure, clad in steel armor with blue enamel and brass trim marking him as one of the Blades, lifted his torch at me. He stopped outside my cell, his Redguard features scowling at me in the guttering light. The woman, a little shorter than I and clad in the same armor, paused at the sight of me. Her blue eyes sparked angrily beneath the helm. “This cell was supposed to be empty!” she exclaimed softly under her breath.
“I don’t know, Captain,” the tall Redguard shrugged, keeping his cold black eyes on me. “Some mix-up with the City Watch.”
“It doesn’t matter,” the captain responded. Beyond her, another armored figure and an old Imperial man in royal purple robes appeared. The third Blade matched my height, and like me, turned out to be Redguard as well.
“Prisoner!” the captain’s voice crackled between the stone walls. My back straightened involuntarily, painfully, at the unmistakable command in the woman’s voice. “Stand back beneath the window!”
Although I had been out of the Legion for four years, old habits die hard. Complying with her order, I limped to the back of the cell, behind the moonbeam. The captain unlocked my cell door while I squinted through the grey light. Opening the door, she stepped back to let the other two Blades enter. The tall one advanced to stand between me and the others. Sensing his dislike of me, thick as molasses in a Skyrim winter, I accepted it, as I accepted the captain’s authority, since I could do nothing else.
“Watch the prisoner, Glenroy,” the captain ordered, moving to the side wall opposite my cot.
The slim sword whickered as Glenroy drew it. “Aye, Captain,” he growled, turning the blade so it shimmered in the moonlight between us. “You stay where you are,” he snarled at me. “Don’t even breathe.” Breathing slowly and shallowly, I stayed put. Looking past him, I regarded the other Redguard. Standing at ease near the door, his impassive expression scared me in its implacability. Years of combat in the Legion had taught me that the most deadly enemies are the ones you can’t read.
The captain started muttering under her breath, and I felt the unmistakable tingle of magicka shimmer over the plain rock face. Catching my breath, I realized the captain was a Breton, with high innate magicka. Probably trained as a battlemage.
The old man, his dark fur-lined robe a shadow in the shadows of the cell, stepped past the impassive soldier and peered at me, his sad eyes puzzled. “Come closer,” his voice smoothing from a grieved coarseness to a commanding tone.
Glancing at Glenroy, I hesitated, but he fell back to stand beside the old man, keeping his blade between me and the other. Acutely aware of the shimmering sword, I stepped forward into the light.
The old man’s eyes widened. “Ah, yes, I’ve seen you before.” His dark gaze held mine, once again becoming sad and resigned. “That means today is the day, and the hour is near.” Suddenly aware that the smith’s hammer had stopped pounding in my head, I stared at the old man.
Licking my dry lips, I remembered how the captain had addressed him. “Pardon me, Sire?” He can’t be - no, not the Emperor, not here, not in my cell! My eye fell on the large red amulet on his brocaded chest. The Amulet of Kings? The Emperor! Stiffly against the pain in my left side, I bowed. “How may I serve you, Sire?” Old habits die hard, very hard, indeed. Looking up, I saw a faint smile touch Uriel Septim’s eyes.
“I have served Tamriel all my life,” he answered. “You too, shall serve Tamriel in your own way. But you have your own path to follow.” His eyes grew even darker. “Be warned, though. There will be blood and death before the end.”
“Blood and death are not new to me, Sire,” I spoke softly, surprised by the weariness I heard in my cracking voice.
The wall of my cell crumbled beneath the captain’s hands, falling away in a cloud of dry, choking dust. A passageway appeared beyond. “Sire,” her voice cut between us. “We must go now, there is little time.” She disappeared into the darkness beyond the jagged stone edges.
Glenroy turned the top of the slender blade toward me as the Emperor started toward the opening. “What of the prisoner, Sire?”
“Leave her be,” the command voice was quietly unmistakable as Uriel Septim stepped through the opening, following the captain. “Her path may yet lie with ours.” Glenroy gave me one last glare, sheathing his sword and following the Emperor. The third Blade turned his back on me and brought up the rear.
Listening to the sound of their booted feet fading away, I glanced around the cell again. Something coiled in my belly, just below the breastbone. On my discharge from the Legion, I had once hoped to find peace and health after decades of blood and death. Peace and health had avoided me, and now a mere hint of blood and death had found me.
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Replies(200 - 207)
| Destri Melarg |
May 23 2010, 09:30 AM
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Mouth

Joined: 16-March 10
From: Rihad, Hammerfell

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Yes, this does flow smoother than before, especially the action sequence. One of the things that I like most about this chapter is the way that you illuminate the fact that the Mythic Dawn acolytes are zealots, but not warriors. In close quarters against a Blade and an ex-Legionnaire slavish devotion doesn’t do you much good. SubRosa calling her Julian Powers makes me think of Mankar Camoran sitting in a volcano lair, pinky bent to the side of his mouth, screaming for everyone to hear: QUOTE “Can I get some frickin’ sharks with some frickin’ laser beams attached to their frickin’ heads!”
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| Olen |
May 23 2010, 06:14 PM
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Mouth

Joined: 1-November 07
From: most places

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Good as ever, the action scene was well shown and I must agree with Destri that having them as zealots but not warriors makes the piece much more believable and realistic. Using the shield in combat was also a nice touch in so far as realism goes. QUOTE Once on a time, I could do that Nice bit of characterisation type stuff 
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Look behind you and see an ever decreasing number of ghosts. Currently about 15.
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| haute ecole rider |
May 24 2010, 05:27 PM
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Master

Joined: 16-March 10
From: The place where the Witchhorses play

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@SubRosa: The way I see that leap of Julian's, I see it as the old legionary coming back to the fore - old combat habits coming into play, without the thought of the pain landing on a bum knee was going to cause. She's going to be rough on that old knee before things get better.
@Destri: That comment of Mankar Camoran made me laugh. I've never seen the movie Austin Powers, but I have seen clips of the arch-villian and his mini-Me, both sucking on their pinkies. I can picture what you describe. Hmm, I haven't written Camoran's Paradise yet, maybe that might be a more interesting version than the overzealous egoistical dialogue that irritating SOB spouts in the game.
@Olen: Thanks for the comments on my combat writing. It sucked in the beginning, to be honest. But I came across D. Foxy's thread about combat techniques and learned a lot from it. Plus, I've also started paying attention to the swordplay in some of the more realistic sword/samurai movies recently (one of the reasons I've watched When the Last Sword is Drawn three times already), and reviewed some of the material I've collected over the years.
This next installment was tough to write. How did Julian figure out where to go to get the next clue? This is worse than a scavenger hunt!
******************** Chapter 7.6 Deciphering the Commentaries
Cleaned up and back in my street clothes with my belly full, I returned to the Arcane University. Hoping to see Tar-Meena before it became too late, I found the streets easier to navigate with fewer people out. Tiber Septim’s stone gaze did not follow me as I crossed the Arboretum, instead staring blankly over my head.
As before, I found her seated in the lobby, reading a different tome this time. She looked up expectantly as I sat beside her. “Well?”
Her reptilian eyes gleamed as I drew out the four purple books. “Ah, I knew you would ssucceed!” she exclaimed in her hissing accent. “Now, to find their sshrine, you’ll need to sstudy these four volumess. Essoteric cultss ssuch as the Mythic Dawn put hidden messsagess within their ssacred writingss.” She smiled at my grimace. “By ssimply finding your way to the sshrine, you have passsed the firsst tesst on the path to enlightenment.” She placed her long-fingered hand, surprisingly warm, on my right wrist. “You’ve piqued my curioussity about this puzzle. I will think on it mysself and let you know if I have any ideass.”
“Thanks, ma’am,” I said, and meant it. The Argonian woman had been very helpful, and patient in the face of my ignorance of mysterious arcana.
************* An hour later, back in the room I had rented from Broad for a second night, I sat on the bed, my right leg dangling over the edge. The four books of the Commentaries spread around me, their pages gleaming softly in the golden light from the lanterns. Picking up the first volume, I took the plunge.
Greetings, novitiate, and know first a reassurance: Mankar Camoran was once like you, asleep, unwise, protonymic. We mortals leave the dreaming-sleeve of birth the same, unmantled save for the symbiosis with our mothers . . .
The prose remained as dense and thick as when I read it the first time. Still I forced myself to plow through all four volumes, hoping it would become easier. It didn’t. Finally I tossed the last book on the bed, leaning back against the wall and staring at the lantern above my head. There were no references to locations or descriptions of places that I could recognize. Four keys? What were the four keys? Where is this Nu-mantia?
Hoping to find something I had missed the first time around, I re-read the texts. Maybe the answer is not in the text itself, but rather in the pages. With the book closed in my hand, I ran my fingers over the bindings, looking for lumps or irregularities. Each book’s cover was perfect in its symmetry, the condition of the leather excellent. Could text or magic words were hidden elsewhere than on the pages themselves? I studied the elaborate carvings on the covers.
Again, I failed to recognize anything. I held the pages of the third volume up to the lantern, looking for patterns in the parchment. Again, nothing. Sighing in frustration, I tossed the volume down on the bed and set my feet on the floor. Careful to keep my footfalls quiet to avoid disturbing the other patrons at this late hour, I began pacing. As I limped across the room, my eye fell on the open pages of the volume I had just put down. Its illuminated letters leaped off the parchment at me. Suddenly I stopped, staring at them.
The illuminated letters! What did they just spell? I picked up the book and studied the letters on the open pages. W-E-R. No, not quite a word. I flipped back to the first page. T-O, then returned to the page that had caught my attention; W-E-R. Tower! I turned the page. T-O-U-C-H-E-S was spelled before I finished the volume. Tower touches? What tower? Touching what?
Feeling the excitement that comes with discovery, I opened the first volume and started spelling out the illuminated letters: G-R-E-E-N E-M-P-E-R-O-R - Green Emperor! The second volume: W-A-Y W-H-E-R-E. Way where - aha! tower touches. The fourth and last volume: M-I-D-D-A-Y S-U-N.
I lowered the last book to the bed, stunned. Green Emperor Way where tower touches midday sun. The mental exertion left me exhausted, but I knew I had made an important discovery. Something on the Green Emperor Way will lead me to the shrine. It will be something that appears only around noon, when the sun is at its zenith.
After I put the books away in my pack, I blew the lamp out. Casting my now-customary three healing spells, I lay back on the bed. Again I visualized the letters in my head, double-checking the spelling, making certain I understood the reference correctly. I couldn’t do anything more until noon -
***************** Bright sunlight poured through the narrow windows of my room when I woke. Downstairs, Broad set a breakfast plate in front of me. “Up late?” he asked. I glanced at him in surprise. “It’s ten o’clock this morning,” he added, “and you’ve got dark circles under your eyes.”
“I was reading,” I mumbled, already diving into the food.
“Must have been a good book,” Broad chuckled. I grumbled something noncommittal.
It was nearly noon when I reached the Green Emperor Way from the Elven Gardens District. Looking around, I tried to identify the tower mentioned in the books. None of the tombs along the Way possessed features that could remotely be called towers. Studying the high outer perimeter wall, I could only see stubby guard towers at regular intervals, each one exactly the same as the next.
Reaching Talos Street, leading down from the Talos Plaza entrance, I turned and faced the center. Imperial Palace Guards in their flashy silver-and-gold uniforms stood en garde beside the engraved bronze doors leading into the Palace. My gaze traveled up the spire of White Gold Tower. White Gold Tower! Of course! I refrained from smacking my forehead at my own obtuseness.
A glance at the sun revealed that it was near its zenith. My back to the Tower, I observed its shadow falling away to the north. Facing back the way I had come, I followed the Way, past worn gravestones and watchful topiary heads, ornate tombs and simple family crypts. With an eye on the sun, I soon reached a small, domed mausoleum, its gleaming marble cut into two by the Tower’s shadow.
Prince Camoran’s Tomb, said the engraved bronze plaque set in its side. Walking around the tomb, I recalled seeing it before. Its walls were made of half columns, the arches they formed filled in with featureless marble blocks. On the side away from the Palace, where the stones remained cool to the touch in their own shadow, a carved map decorated the stone wall.
Cyrodiil? Above it, a rising sun spread its rays. This has to be it. Pulling my chart out of my bag, I spread it open on the marble below the carved version. A comparison of the two maps matched the major cities of Cyrodiil - Imperial City, Bruma, Chorrol, Skingrad, Kvatch, Anvil, Bravil, Leyawiin, Cheydinhal.
Another check of the sun showed the edge of its disc just touching the side of the Tower’s apex. As my eyes moved back to the map, I inhaled sharply as the carved lines began to glow red. Now there was another mark on the carven map that did not correspond to anything on my chart. The red four-pointed star lay just north and a little west of Cheydinhal.
Yes! I shouted inside. Yes! That’s the place! Carefully I marked the location of the star on my map, being careful to keep the angles relatively constant. Stepping back, I breathed a sigh of relief to Julianos. Thank you for giving me your thirst of knowledge.
I moved to a low gravestone and leaned carefully against it, studying my map more closely. Go out on the Red Ring Road, north back the way I came. Continue on the Red Road past Sercen, and on past, what was it Atellus said, Roxey Inn? Yes, Roxey Inn. Follow the Red Ring to the other side of the Lake, to where the Blue Road heads out to Cheydinhal. I folded the map and put it away, my route now set in my head. Back to Luther’s to pick up my gear, then fetch Paint and head out.
Squinting at the sun, I calculated the time it would take me to get there. Ten, twelve hours, if not more. It’ll be well after dark by the time I reach Cheydinhal. I’ll rest at an inn there. Maybe someone will know what this mark means.
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| SubRosa |
May 24 2010, 10:31 PM
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Ancient

Joined: 14-March 10
From: Between The Worlds

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So old Tiber kept his eyes to himself this time I see? About time that old bugger learned some manners... Where is this Nu-mantia?It is here, in Spain. The Romans killed a lot of Celt-Iberians there a long time ago. Seriously though, I always have admired this part-o-chapter. You show Julian wracking her brain trying to figure out the puzzle of the book in a very believable, and very thoughtful manner. Looking first in the words, then for hidden clues in the binding, the pages themselves, etc... It shows that she can use her head for more than just holding up her helmet. I discovered an interesting thing last week. My current character, who is not doing the Main Quest, walked by Prince Camoran's Tomb at noon and the map was glowing red. So apparently it does that every day at that time, regardless of whether you even start the quest associated with it.
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| Destri Melarg |
May 25 2010, 06:23 AM
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Mouth

Joined: 16-March 10
From: Rihad, Hammerfell

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Ah, the power of the subconscious mind. Isn’t it always the case that when hours of diligent search fails to provide the answers we seek, the solution presents itself in the corner of our eye when we aren’t even looking for it. QUOTE Cleaned up and back in my street clothes with my belly full, I returned to the Arcane University. Hoping to see Tar-Meena before it became too late, I found the streets easier to navigate with fewer people out. Tiber Septim’s stone gaze did not follow me as I crossed the Arboretum, instead staring blankly over my head. Every now and then I can see you struggling with this self-induced paranoia that you have about not wanting to begin every sentence with the letter I. This paragraph is a perfect example of that struggle. The simplest way to narrate the action of a scene is always the best, regardless of how it starts. In this case you could have said something to the effect of: Once I had cleaned up, filled my belly, and changed back into my street clothes I returned to the Arcane University. I was hoping to see Tar-Meena before it became too late. I found the streets easier to navigate with fewer people out, and Tiber Septim’s stone gaze did not follow me as I crossed the Arboretum. Instead he stared blankly over my head.Did Julian make it to the Lake Arrius Caverns in the other thread? I don’t remember what happened to her there.
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| Olen |
May 25 2010, 01:38 PM
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Mouth

Joined: 1-November 07
From: most places

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I can see how that part was hard to write but you nailed it, the meaning coming to her half by subconsious and half by chance was well done and sits well with her character. I'm looking forward to seeing her in the Mythic Dawn base too, makes me wonder which approach she'll take (and how much hacking and slashing she'll end up doing). Great stuff 
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Look behind you and see an ever decreasing number of ghosts. Currently about 15.
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| haute ecole rider |
May 26 2010, 06:39 PM
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Master

Joined: 16-March 10
From: The place where the Witchhorses play

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@mALX: Baurus sent her up to snipe because of her injury - he didn't think she could maneuver in close-quarters combat with that bum knee. She proved him wrong. Remember, the last time he saw her, she was pretty sick and frail. First impressions are important! @SubRosa: Camoran's Tomb is one of those things that don't need the quest to trigger the event. I discovered it too, one time, before I even started looking for those darned books. As for Tiber Septim, he is a general, he don't need no stinking' manners! @Destri: Thanks again for the help. I have made the change you suggested. And yes, she did make it into the Caverns and back on the other forum. That will be coming up in, oh, another couple of posts, so I'm thinking early next week I'll be caught up! Then it's on to material that will be new to former Unnamed Forum readers as well as those who started reading this here. @Olen: Have patience, friend. Julian has to fight her way past a few bandits and deal with the Orum gang before she gets there! @all: After some discussion with our beloved Nord minque, I've decided to stop this thread here, at the end of Chapter 7. It's over 200 posts now, and I think that's long enough. Chapter 8 starts here: Enjoy!
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