Light through Darkness, You asked for it, so here you go. Options

[haute ecole rider]

I quite enjoyed your introduction to Bravil. It closely fits my impression of the city as ramshackle walls, ramshackle buildings, even ramshackle bridges!

no one comes between a man and his sausage!”

Except Lorena Bobbitt?

A fire roared away in a stone mantle, where several vases of colorful flowers added a delightfully whimsical touch.

This phrasing was confusing to me on several levels. First, did you mean mantel? Mantle means a cloak or covering, while mantel refers to the slab that makes up the top portion of the fireplace opening (and usually functions as a shelf of sorts). If you meant mantel, then a fire does not burn in a stone mantel. Perhaps A fire roared away on a stone hearth, or A fire roared away beneath a stone mantel, or A fire roared away in a stone fireplace would be better in that case.

Now this is more a style choice than anything else, and if this is part of Dere's 'voice,' then disregard. But I noticed that you tend to use a lot of verbs to describe a single action. Here's an example:

She proceeded to stop and look up.

Now if that's just the way Dere talks (and I know a few people who talk and write like that) then it's okay as long as it's confined to his narrative voice. But personally I find it a little distracting when simpler phrasing will work just as well and improves the flow of reading for me. For example, I would rewrite it as She stopped and looked up. At this point I'm not sure if this is just Dere's way of narration or not, but I thought I'd bring it up for your consideration.

Overall, I really enjoyed this chapter. From the outlying neglected farms to the ramshackle fortifications (what fortifications?) to the crammed open-air marketplace to the cozy interior of the Fighters Guild, and the wonderful personalities that occupy this chapter, everything is just wonderful!

And I think it is a great idea to point out that you borrowed a few characters from other people's fiction with their permission. It helps avoid the confusion that can happen when such borrowing goes on without clearing it with the character's creator first. Thanks!

This post has been edited by haute ecole rider: Mar 12 2011, 01:54 AM

[Acadian]

You paint Bravil as a fascinatingly foreboding place! It seems to fit your story perfectly and I applaud you taking a slightly different path with it.

'Every inch of them not covered by moss and fungi was taken up by the remains of crates and barrels now so rotten even fire would reject them.'
I very much enjoyed your phrasing here!

It continues to be wonderful to hear of the Oblivion crisis via rumors and second hand information. Using a degree of confusion regarding whether the Kvatch gate was closed by Julian or Jerric works so perfectly here!

[Grits]

I love the decomposing welcoming committee, it made me think of a Caribbean port with dead pirates.

Yellow cinnabar polyphore, for example, had marvelous restorative capabilities, excellent for the heart and lungs. We also harvested several heads of lavender, which Faith then showed me how to brew together with the equally widespread cairn bolete into a potion for restoring lost blood.

So much more interesting than saying “restore endurance” or “restore health.” I really like this part!

“Fine mountain spring water, fresh from the Ethe! You have never had clearer water than this, my friends!”

This touch really brought the mold and decay home, even the local water is probably gross.

My curiosity got the better of me. “What sort of official business?” I asked before I could catch myself. The porter looked slightly taken aback at my directness, but seemed to recover once he caught the embarrassment flooding my cheeks.

I enjoyed Derelas’s very Bosmer exchange with Vincent. The contradictory reports of the Gate closing were great! In the game all of the rumors are the same, but in a world with limited communication there would be a lot of conflicting information making the rounds.

[Thomas Kaira]

@mALX: Many thanks!

@SubRosa: I took the idea from two places. A: Your take on Bravil being an old silver mining boom-town (hence your conclusion), and B: from the Better Cities rendition of the town, which really drives home the point that this is the worst place in Cyrodiil to live save the Waterfront.
I looked at your suggestion, but decided instead of changing that sentence, I could add a little tidbit using your advice to flesh things out, so there's now a little extra bit there.

@Rick:Thank you much! I'm glad you find my world-building to be so inspirational!

@rider: Ramshackle everything! I wish to communicate that the only things endearing about the city are the Lady's statue and the chapel.
The first nit is picked, but the second nit I left, as that is Dere's voice (which is strikingly similar to mine, as well). You might see a few more verb-heavy sentences later on, but I will be careful to keep the count low.

@Acadian: I do my best to give this story all the details of a mystery novel, complex plot, confusion over familiar events... etc. Also, there is a lot more to most of the character here, and their motivations, than meets the eye. Trust that there will be a bombshell or two in the near future.

@Grits: Thank you for your kind words. I'm glad you thought that my little reference to Julian and Jerric worked so well.

@all: Now that we have set the scene, it is time to get some gears rolling. It's time to have our first real conversation with Tadrose, after all, and she means business!

next: More answers, but still more questions. Also, a little present for our hero...

Chapter 5-4: Passing the Torch

It was a relatively short wait for me back in the lobby. The moment we surfaced Tadrose asked, or rather demanded, that the room be cleared. The two sparring guild members were quick to disperse, making their way outside to continue their session, but Vincent was a bit different. He tried to protest, but quickly paled under a gaze so stern and fiery I could swear I saw tears of lava. She had then made a brief interlude upstairs to change her clothes, and now she was returning down the stairs, clad in a simple dark blue tunic. As she walked toward me, I noted how it accented her wiry feminine muscles and features in just the right places. There might be several people outside who wouldn’t mind a night or three in bed with her, but I quickly put those thoughts away, or at least tried.

“You are aware of the present state of affairs regarding yourself, correct?” Tadrose immediately asked me once she had closed the distance between us. She seemed remarkably similar to Faith in a way; same hair, same demeanor, even the same lithe build. This made me wonder what Faith might look like when she was not clad in bulky leathers.

“Hey, you awake?” Tadrose suddenly snapped, catapulting my thoughts back to Nirn.

“Yes, sorry,” I responded. “To answer your question, yes, I am aware that an ancient vampire is keeping tabs on me.”

“And now the Dark Brotherhood has moved on your life,” Tadrose finished. “I was hoping this would wait until much later, once you’d had time to acquaint yourself with the province, but obviously that’s smoke on the wind now.”

“Erm… what are you talking about?” I inquired perplexedly.

“The Children of Dawn, I trust you’ve been briefed on them?” Tadrose quipped briskly. This woman really meant business.

“Yes,” I replied, “but what do they have to do with this? I thought I was looking for aid from the Fighters Guild?”

“And you still are,” Tadrose replied. “We received the contract from the Children many years ago, kept on suspension until they deemed it time. It would appear that time is now.”

My head was sent reeling from this revelation. Years ago? Had they been planning for my arrival? Could they be responsible for my parents’ disappearance? The very thought of them being behind such a deed made me cringe and also planted a heavy dose of skepticism into my mind. Did these people, despite Faith’s help in keeping me breathing, really have my best interests in mind?

“How can I trust you?” I then finished my thoughts aloud.

“A wise question,” Tadrose replied. “Wait here.”

For a second time, she returned upstairs. This time, however, it took her a much shorter time to return. And when she did, she was carrying what looked like a thin stick. It was painted a glossy white which glinted energetically in the firelight. Every so often, the white turned to gold as brilliantly flowing natural patterns danced their way across the lengths. I then made out the presence of a hilt; this was a blade.

“We are aware of what happened to your kin,” Tadrose continued, “This is all we could recover.”

“Where did you find that,” I demanded, voice slightly croaky. I had recognized that sheath the moment I saw it… my father’s blade.

“The ruin is called Nornalhorst, and I shall not speak any further of it,” Tadrose replied, motioning for me to remain still and not bolt for the door as I most certainly had given away. “After a week’s passage without news from the expedition force, the Guild of Archaeology contracted us to find them. Unfortunately, we failed.”

My heart seemed to evaporate, as did my lungs. Failed? No, that’s not possible. My dad wouldn’t just disappear off the face of Mundus.

“Please,” Tadrose beckoned me as I opened my mouth to respond, forcing me to back down once again, “please save your questions and allow me to finish.

“As I was saying, we were unsuccessful,” Tadrose continued, shifting her grip on my father’s blade. “But not completely. We know not of what happened to those souls who disappeared, but we did find several of their belongings. This blade is inscribed with your family’s crest, right here.”

She brought the blade forth, indicating an engraving upon the hilt. I had never thought I would ever see the Kissing Mares again. My eyes were burning with tears at the sight.

“It is time this blade was returned to her rightful owner,” Tadrose then declared, holding the gleaming white sheath at arms length. “I believe that makes this yours, now.”

I took the blade in my two hands wordlessly. The very instant my hand touched the hilt, a nondescript warmth flooded through my fingertips as a brilliant orange glow pulsed through the golden bands. The blade rang with conviction and joy as I drew the blinding silver from its lightly curving sheath, just enough to reveal the coat of arms forged into the metal. It was so immaculate it would still shine forth even if all the lights in the world were extinguished. The Kissing Mares were seen once again where the blade met the pommel, and a subtle glow of orange that had nothing to do with the fire nearby remained ever present.

Screenshot

It was impossible for me to speak. Just holding his blade once again had caused my voice to fail. After examining every inch of it, I returned the sword to its sheath after what seemed like hours. Turning back to Tadrose, who was standing in silence out of either pity or respect for my father, she took the return of my attention as the signal to continue.

“Once again, the Children were involved in that contract. Several of their members were present in the search alongside the Guild. They were the ones who identified the perpetrators as vampires, for they had always been suspicious of Nornalhorst playing host to a brood. That everyone disappeared, however, was cause for alarm for them. Normal vampires just feed off the victims and leave them where they fell, you see. No, the Children decided this meant the presence of an ancient.”

“Forgive me for asking,” I interrupted, wiping away the tears from my eyes, “but what in the name of Y’ffre makes an ancient so bad?”

“That they are very old vampires who have unlocked their true strength,” Tadrose replied. “Most broodspawn, which are what account for most of the vampires in this world, are not aware of what they are capable of. However, that is beside the point. Why the Children thought he would target you in particular I do not know, but they are funding the contract so I am not one to question them.”

“What of the Brotherhood,” I persisted with my inquiries, “what do they have to do with this?”

“A reinforcement to the Children’s position,” Tadrose replied. “They believe the one whom the ancient will take is the same one whom the Brotherhood will try to kill.”

Why did I get the feeling Tadrose was keeping something from me about this ancient?

“And this contract is to protect my life?” I then asked.

“I’m sorry, but the details are not for your ears,” Tadrose brushed away my question. This all but confirmed my conclusion; now I knew Tadrose was keeping something from me. “But yes, we will be working to keep you alive, if you wish to know.”

She then dismissed me, requesting that I remain in the city until I heard from her again. She also directed me to visit the chapel of Mara and ask for Marz to see to my wound. With that, I turned to leave the guild as the sun’s last rays disappeared over the crumbling walls of the city.




----




Once the door snapped shut, Tadrose immediately strode for her quarters with speed rivaling a jay on the wind. Locking the door behind her, she quickly drew forth a quill and inkpot, along with some parchment and began to scribble away. Her fingers were a blur of activity as she wrote.

White Wolf:

The Brotherhood has moved. Far sooner than we had hoped, possibly the work of Valtieri. We cannot keep him here forever, not in a city so well connected to him. We may need to call the Shadowblades into service if things get messy here, which they will. You know where. Recommend relocating to Anvil with all haste.

Swamp Fox

Once finished, she placed the letter into an envelope and sealed it not with the Fighters Guild seal, but with a blank one. The letter remained without an address.

“Vincent!” Tadrose called, returning to the lobby. The steel mail-clad Breton was quick to respond.

“Ma’am?”

Tadrose handed him the envelope. “You know who this is for,” Tadrose stated, “be quick.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Vincent replied, eying the blank seal as he hurried for the door.

This post has been edited by Thomas Kaira: Mar 16 2011, 08:03 PM

[Acadian]

I think a sword with kissing mares on the hilt is such a beautiful idea! Brilliant!

So Tadrose is a fox? We knew that!

Nits:
“The ruin is called Nornalhorst, and I shall not speak any further of it,” Tadrose replied, motioning for me to remain still and bolt for the door as I most certainly had given away. “After a week’s passage without news from the expedition force, the Guild of Archaeology contracted us to find them. Unfortunately, we failed.”
I am unsure what the bolded part means.

'My dad wouldn’t just disappear of the face of the Earth.'
I would change the first 'of' to 'off' and you might also consider substituting Nirn for Earth?

“But yes, it we will be working to keep you alive, if you wish to know.”
This does not make sense, but I think removing the 'it' would remedy that.

[TheOtherRick]

I really enjoy the way you consistantly keep us hanging, not unlike a chef teasing the palate before the next course. You done it again with the mysterious letter to White Wolf. WTG Chef!

I caught the same nit that Acadian did -
“The ruin is called Nornalhorst, and I shall not speak any further of it,” Tadrose replied, motioning for me to remain still and {not} bolt for the door as I most certainly had given away.
I am assuming the not was missing.

[haute ecole rider]

Mysteriouser and mysteriouser!

Dere's father's blade returns! However, its appearance adds to the mystery. What really happened to his parents? Why is an ancient after him? Why are the Children of Dawn so vested in his survival?

I'm certain all will be answered in due time.

Acadian already caught my nits.

[mALX]

The mystery grows deeper and more intriguing with each chapter!!!


My fave line has to be this:


"With that, I turned to leave the guild as the sun’s last rays disappeared over the crumbling walls of the city."


Slipped in so easily a reminder of his first impression of Bravil, Awesome Chapter !!!

[Destri Melarg]

Just read Chapter 1. You know, starting a story with a dream sequence can degenerate into cliche unless the writer knows what he/she is doing. You, sir, know what you are doing! You had me at 'Y'ffre'. I'll be back when I've caught up.

[SubRosa]

I have been meaning to ask for a while now: you treat us all pictures of the towns and places Derelas goes, but not to any of our Bosmer bowman himself. How about some beefcake shots of our intrepid wood elf?

I could swear I saw tears of lava
A wonderful phrase.

There might be several people outside who wouldn’t mind a night or three in bed with her
I can think of a stringy Bosmer who would like to sign up for that!

Did these people, despite Faith’s help in keeping me breathing, really have my best interests in mind?
This is what I keep wondering.

A wonderful description of Derelas' drawing of the sword. However you might want to put a little more description of the sword itself in the text. That is is single bladed, has a curve, etc... I know you have the picture, but it might not be there in all formats.

Why did I get the feeling Tadrose was keeping something from me about this ancient?
Why do I get the same feeling? It seems that between her and the CoD, people are keeping an awful lot from our Dere. Which makes them rather hard to trust. Poor Derelas, what has gotten himself into!

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Mar 14 2011, 04:58 PM

[Grits]

We know not of what happened to those souls who disappeared, but we did find several of their belongings.

Uh oh. Vampires and disappeared, quite worrisome. Dere’s father would certainly not have left that blade behind.

[Thomas Kaira]

@Acadian: Thank you. This builds off of a medieval tradition, that every comfortably off family had a coat of arms. Now you know Dere's.
Nits be picked.

@TheOtherRick: An excellent comparison!

@schrodinger's cat rider: You must have already picked up on the fact that I like mystery plots. This is very much one, but don't worry. I am aware of all the questions that need answering.

@mALX: Deeper and more intriguing? I hope to go even further than that. How soon I cannot tell you, but keep reading to find out.

@Destri Melarg: First off, welcome back! I certainly have been busy in your absence! Thank you for your insight, I'm very glad you think I have avoided that cliche so far. I did my best with it, so I'm glad it paid off. Dreams may be touchy in writing, but they are a good way to get things started in the TES universe; that's why I chose that approach.

@SubRosa: I'll get there soon enough with some pictures of him, don't worry. He's just a little outside my expectations right now. I need to get him dressed properly and give him proper equipment and all that, and get him to Bravil (well, that's what Frostcrag is good for, at least). And here we have another key element of the mystery story: not knowing who to trust. That's exactly what I was shooting for here, so I'm glad you picked up on that.
As for the blade, the reasonable excuse is that it wasn't drawn all the way. Dere only drew it enough to view the coat of arms. I will edit that part a bit to reflect that so less confusion arises, though.

@Grits: Definitely not good, and also why Dere so wanted to go straight to the ruins to look around.

@all: Thank you all for your continued support.

next: A bit of an emergency arises.

Chapter 6-1: A Healer’s Touch

A sharp stinging sensation in my right arm woke me from my slumber. I had chosen to stay at a small, but cozy inn called Silverhome On The Water for the night after finding Marz had finished her services when I first arrived at the chapel. Now, a tossy-turny night’s sleep later, the deep wound in my arm had begun to smart afresh. Pulling back the sleeve of my nightgown, I encountered a sight that nearly made me gag.

Where once there was red had now turned a sickly green, and blue veins were beginning to pop up from beneath my skin. Angry red cobwebs of irritation had spun themselves across my skin, and my wound was bleeding again… but this time, not blood. Any attempt to touch the festering gash was met with such piercing pain it was akin to sticking my arm with a giant nail where I touched it. All this, despite the fact that I had specifically applied a generous coating of disinfectant lotion before going to sleep. There must have been something in the bedding here; I’ve never had any problems with festering wounds when I used that recipe before. This made me quite unhappy. I only had the one bottle from when I left Valenwood.

After dressing quickly, I struck an urgent pace as I made my way for the door of the inn, ignoring the keeper’s bid of good morning. I needed to see Marz straightaway, or the Dark Brotherhood would be the least of my worries.




----




“Here for Marz again, are you?” the elderly Primate inquired as a way of greeting. “She’s right over there.”

The Breton indicated an Argonian nearby the Grand Altar of Mara. She was kneeling before it, deep in prayer. I hated to interrupt her, but given that the wound in my arm had gone from glassy as the Rumare to festering like a rotten swamp, I decided things were urgent enough. I would pray for forgiveness later, if need be.

“Marz?” I requested. The Argonian quickly stood in response to her name, looking reproachful, but otherwise attentive. “I apologize for interrupting your morning prayer, but I felt this couldn’t wait.”

“There are many who think the same,” Marz responded, eyes narrowing and a light hiss of annoyance upon her tongue. “You wouldn’t believe the number of people here who think scraping themselves against a thorny board is enough to come to my doorstep, screaming bloody murder. I really do hope this is good, because I have had close to enough of my time wasted already.”

“Trust me, I wouldn’t have disturbed your prayers if I didn’t think it wasn’t worth your time,” I replied, raising my right sleeve. The Argonian’s irritated expression then slid off her face faster than ice melting in magma, replaced with a mingled expression of shock and concern.

“By Mara, what happened to you?!” she exclaimed indignantly.

“Someone tried to kill me a couple of days ago,” I replied. “Long story, but the wound was fine until last night. I tried to find you last evening, but you had gone to bed already, so I had to wait. Obviously, I waited a bit too long,” I finished sheepishly.

“A bit?” Marz continued, “I’m surprised you can still walk! You should be bedridden with a fever greater than the heat of the Deadlands right now!”

Maybe that disinfectant had done something then, I wondered to myself. I wasn’t familiar with the diseases here in Cyrodiil, but given Marz’s reaction to my wound, it made me quite certain that, at least here, they could be lethal. Suddenly, I felt much differently about my using the lotion.

“Well, I did treat it before going to bed,” I told Marz. “It was a distilled lotion of tinder polyphore and foxglove nectar.”

“Not an easy recipe,” Marz commented, “but sound for your application. That might have stopped the worst of this, but it’s still going to be rather difficult to tend to. Not to mention painful.”

I repressed a grimace. Just because I completely expected this didn’t make it any easier for me to hear.

“Give me your arm,” Marz then requested. At my hesitation, she then continued, “I need contact in order to help you. I know it hurts, but there really is no other way.”

I slowly held out the infected wound, watching as Marz brought her fingers to it as gently as she could. The moment they touched my raw skin, pain seared through my body like a freshly forged dagger plunging through my chest. I bit back my anguished cry, coming dangerously close to severing my tongue.

Then the pain faded. It fell from a fiery shock to a painful prickle before finally ending on a dull throb. I felt a surge of energy coursing through my body, emptying it of every last trace of my torture. My body was bathed in bright white light as two great swirls danced around me; all a joyous celebration of life and wellness. When the light finally faded away, I could feel no trace of the damage that was done to me.

The joy in my heart was not shared by Marz, unfortunately. She was breathing quite heavily, and made a beeline for one of the wooden pews. After a very ungraceful collapse into the seat, she turned back to me.

“That is the best I can do,” she told me as I eyed an obvious U-shaped scar on my arm where the cut had once dwelled. “If you had arrived sooner, we might have even been able to avoid the scarring. The wound was deep, though; the blade that cut you nearly struck the bone. You are quite lucky to be alive after that infection, too, Bosmer.”

“And I most surely would be dead had it not been for your skill,” I complimented her, hoping it might ease some of the tension in her weary muscles. “Thank you.”

“Oh, well… thank you for your gratitude,” Marz replied. “That’s not something worth five to the Drake here, I appreciate it.”

“How did you get so skilled?” I then decided to ask.

“Through much toil and hardship,” Marz commented. “Why, do wish to learn more about the healing arts?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” I replied.

“Well, it will have to wait for another time, I’m afraid,” came Marz’s response. Her tired eyes glanced towards the luminescent stained glass portrait of the chapel’s namesake Divine. “Serious wounds are quite exhausting for me.”

“I understand,” I replied. I would not bother this woman any further, as she obviously wished for some time to herself. I made my way back outside.

The grandiose Great Chapel of Mara was by far the most impressive building in the entire city; even the muddy castle paled in comparison to its granite arches and spires. The bell tower bore its description perfectly, towering above the ramshackle cottages and bungalows of the city. As I shut the great oak doors behind me, a grand, charismatic bell tolled. I guessed by the position of the sun that it might be the tenth bell of the day. Just visible above me was a vibrant mural of glass depicting a young woman clothed in green robes and wearing an expression of infinite understanding and compassion. This chapel was probably the most popular landmark within these walls for a very good reason, I thought. Just one look at the state of living in Bravil would make even the crassest man wrinkle his nose in disgust. Hope for a better future was probably all that many of the people here had.




----




The great blue eye of the Mages Guild followed me to the single door leading inside. Since I was going to be bound to the walls of this city for a few days, I felt that I might as well get on with what I came here for. Besides, my initial gut reaction to find Nornalhorst as soon as I could had been replaced with sense as I slept. I didn't even know where the place was, let alone how to get there. The inside of the Guild was just as much a contrast to the outside as was the Guild of Fighters. A warm fire blazed in the dining hall to my right, where the table was lavishly (for Bravil, that is) decorated with ceramic utensils and plates. Just ahead of me, an Altmer nearly twice my height stood behind a glass counter, hard at work with her mortar and pestle. The acrid fumes of her calcinator were offset by the many sticks of incense softly smoking on nearby shelves, filling the guild with a delightful scent of lavender. Finally, a woman clad in blue suede, very obviously a Breton, was strolling throughout the lobby, her hand to her mouth as if deeply pondering something. She looked magisterly enough; I made my approach.

“Excuse me,” I inquired, “but are you the magister?”

“What?” the woman responded. Her voice was quite powerful and invigorating, and she held herself with supreme confidence. “Oh, sorry. No, I’m not her, that would be Kud-Ei. She’s right over there.”

She indicated a deeply troubled Argonian sat in a corner looking very much like she wished to remain undisturbed. It was then I realized I had completely forgotten what Deetsan had told me back in Cheydinhal. No doubt that information was unequivocally lost in the Yews.

“Thank you,” I replied, carefully skirting the fact that I had forgotten about Kud-Ei. “And well met, as well. I’m Derelas,” I then greeted the Breton.

“Delphine Jend,” she replied with much pomp. “Advanced Trainer in Destruction, and mage destined for great things. It is an honor to meet you, Bosmer.”

Her voice resounded throughout the hall, and I got the feeling she was speaking for more than just herself. I was quite sure everyone here now knew my name after that most ceremonious greeting.

“Well, you seem quite busy, so I’ll leave you to your thoughts then,” came my sheepish response. I quickly ducked away into Kud-Ei’s corner before Delphine could continue.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t notice you.” Kud-Ei responded to my intrusion. Given the racket Delphine had just made, that must mean she was quite worried, indeed. “I’m Kud-Ei, magister for Bravil. I’m sorry, but I’m a little pre-occupied right now.”

“What with?” I then asked strategically, but hopefully empathetically. “Maybe I can help.”

Kud-Ei then took a moment to size me up, from my walnut trusses and braids all the way down to my slightly overlarge feet. Afterwards, she returned her gaze to my own.

“Yes, maybe you could. I need some help with a friend of mine.”

[mALX]

Loved the description of the healing process from the healee's point of view! Oooh, I see trouble ahead now for Dere, lol. Great Chapter !!

[haute ecole rider]

Your description of the festered wound sounds to me like you've had one before, or seen one of that nature. They are gross and disgusting, especially when the immune system isn't working well. Ugh.

The healing process is wonderfully described, as well as the Chapel of Mara, complete with the stained glass windows and murals. As a matter of fact, you make it sound much grander than the matter-of-fact Romanesque pile of stone it really is in game. But that's all right - it adds to the atmosphere of Bravil as a stark contrast to the general mud and squalor.

The bell tower bore its description perfectly, towering above the ramshackle cottages and bungalows of the city.

I smiled at this - I see you used my favorite description of the town!

Finally, a woman clad in blue suede, very obviously a Breton, was strolling throughout the lobby, her hand to her mouth as if deeply pondering something. She looked magisterly enough; I made my approach.

Delphine Jend, a magister? *shudder* What on nirn is the Mages Guild coming to? Oh, wait, it's Kud-Ei that's the magister! Whew! *wipes brow melodramatically*

[SubRosa]

Has Derelas gotten himself gangrene! Looks like he should have put some maggots in that wound.

After her initial snarkiness, Marz comes through in the end. She - and the chapel - fit perfectly into your rough and worn version of Bravil.

“How did you get so skilled?” I then decided to ask.
“Through much toil and hardship,” Marz commented.
I loved this exchange. So true of so many things!

Hmmm, why do I think Derelas is going to be taking a trip down dream lane?

[TheOtherRick]

Another tasty installment, if we can agree to call festering pus-filled wounds tasty. Our two trains of thought are soon to be traveling the same tracks, as Talendor is bound for Bravil to seek Kud-Ei and Henantier as well. I am not going to read the next installment until I have posted that segment for fear of derailing my train.

I also liked the way you made Chapel Mara stand out amongst the filth of Bravil.

One nit...sort of -
“Delphine Jend,” she replied with much pomp. “Advanced Trainer in Destruction, and mage destined for great things. It is an honor to meet you, Bosmer.”
Her voice resounded throughout the hall, and I got the feeling she was speaking for more than just herself. I was quite sure everyone here now knew my name after that most ceremonious greeting.
I never saw Delphine mention Derelas' name...

I am anxiously looking forward to reading about the dreamworld after posting my own.

[Acadian]

I agree that Dere's description of being healed by Marz was wonderful.

The paragraph you used to introduce the mages guild was fabulous! Here, you very efficiently painted a full picture that delighted all the senses.

[Grits]

My body was bathed in bright white light as two great swirls danced around me; all a joyous celebration of life and wellness.

I enjoyed the entire section from the (gross!) wound to the healing, but this line stood out the most to me.

Your description of the guild hall brought it to life, then your Delphine and Kud-Ei made it feel inhabited by real people.

[Thomas Kaira]

@mALX: There's trouble ahead, alright.

@haute ecole rider: That's because I don't consider the chapels to be Romanesque. One look at them, and I see large windows, pointed arches, flying buttresses... that all screams "Gothic" to me. Bravil is, without a doubt, the town most similar to cities in the Middle Ages, being almost entirely slummy, run-down streets and buildings. However, at least they put a lot by their gods, enough to build a decent church, at least.

@SubRosa: I'm glad you enjoyed the little exchange between Dere and Marz. Hopefully the two of them will see more of each other, but let's concentrate on the business at hand first.

@Rick: Don't be gone too long.
As for your nit, I decided to leave it be, because that was part of Dere's thoughts and simply an expression.

@Acadian: I expect no less than the best from the Bravil guild.

@Grits: Thank you very much.

@all: We have dreams to infiltrate, and a certain magister to please. How will this turn out? Nobody knows... yet.

next: We're off to see the wizard....

Chapter 6-2: The Stuff of Dreams

“Okay, let me recap,” I spoke. Kud-Ei had finished explaining her plight to me. It was quite an earful, so I wanted to go over it to myself to make sure I had the details. “Your friend Henantier is stuck in the Dreamworld because an experiment of his went pear-shaped, and you want me to find a way into his dreams so I can rescue him?”

“That pretty much sums it up,” Kud-Ei responded, fidgeting uncomfortably in her chair. All well and good, but there was still a white guar in the room needing addressing.

“Well, why ask me? Wouldn’t you be more trusting if you asked someone you knew for help?”

“Because I know them too well, and I know that they tend to ask awkward questions,” Kud-Ei replied. “Besides, it will look less suspicious having someone new perform this task.” This response concerned me a bit; she was certainly working for discretion, and such figures have turned out to be a bit… shady for me, despite their sincerity.

“And why is that?” I inquired, not caring about the part she had stated about awkward questions. She proceeded to narrow her eyes before giving a deep sigh.

“Well, I guess this has to come out sooner or later,” she told me. “But we can’t talk here. Follow me.”

She led me out of the guild hall, down High Street a small ways, and stopped at the front door to a rather unremarkable house. She quickly inserted a small key to unlock the door, then beckoned me inside.

“Alright, since you’ve agreed to do this for me, you might as well know a few details, if it will make you feel better,” Kud-Ei spoke after locking the door behind us. “I don’t want to go through the regular channels of the Mages Guild because this isn’t the first time Henantier has tried these sorts of experiments. He was quite ambitious during our tenure together at the University, and had a knack for performing unusual, and dangerous, experiments. He had to be told several times to stop, and for a time after that horse mishap, he did. And I will have you know he had no involvement in that affair, as well," she added rather pointedly. I didn't quite understand what she was talking about, but I decided to ignore it -- at least for now.

“That was until recently, when he nearly killed two members while testing a new spell,” Kud-Ei continued, becoming increasingly uncomfortable with every word spoken. “Then the Council threatened him with expulsion if he continued. And now, he’s done it again.”

Kud-Ei paused for breath, and also seemed to be bracing herself. For what, I could not tell. I remained silent, waiting for Kud-Ei to finish before letting loose my deluge of questions.

“He just can’t help himself, you see, he dearly loves his studies and equally loves to push his boundaries; he just can’t seem to figure out where to stop. I can’t ask anyone for help that I know because I’m trying to keep this as quiet as I can, for fear of Henantier’s future. I don’t wish to see him expelled, even if his thirst for knowledge comes before his better judgment. That’s why I’m asking you to do this. You are new to the Guild, unknown. If you help me, it will be easier for me to keep this affair off the records.”

Could anyone in this town not keep a secret?

“Okay, so… I can help you most because you don’t know me?” I asked, still not being able to put something together. “That seems rather backward to me, you know.”

“And that’s exactly it,” Kud Ei responded, looking quite desperate now. “I don’t know you, therefore the guild doesn’t know you, and that makes it easier for me to ensure this never happened. That’s the key here; this never happened. If the Council catches wind of this, Henantier’s days in the guild are through, and I don’t think I could stan… I don’t wish to see him gone.”

She was certainly going out of her way here, I thought. She must really care for this man… mer… well, whatever.

“Okay, say I accept,” I began, “what happens when this is all done?”

“You’re looking for recommendations, right?” Kud-Ei replied. “I could see to it that you get one.”

“I thought this was supposed to be off the record?”

“And it will be,” Kud-Ei told me, motioning for me to quiet down. “This is the Bravil branch, and we are known for being rather clever.”

I then took a moment to ponder the Argonian’s request. I help her with a task she can trust no one but the least trustworthy person in the room to do, and in return I receive a recommendation that might undo everything we worked for here. Well, she said she could cover this up, and she looked like she had the cleavage to do it, so on her own green scaly head be it.

“Where is Henantier?”




----




“This is Henantier.”

Kud-Ei indicated a very well-grown Altmer in bed, who we found a flight of stairs above where we spoke. He was mostly concealed by the covers, but his golden head remained above the sea, which was tossing him about like a flimsy dory.

“You’ll need this to enter his Dreamworld,” Kud-Ei told me, holding a small silver amulet in her hand. It glowed green with magical energy, which gradually wound its way across the chain before converging on a small black stone in the center of the amulet, where it then started again. “It is inlaid with black pearl, a most expensive and precious stone revered by seers. They say it has the power to unlock our deepest dreams… and our deepest fears.”

I was not-very-suddenly starting to have second thoughts about agreeing to this. I was never told I would be wearing strange jewelry with some brain-sucking crystal, especially one that 'unlocks your fears'.

“So, I understand I need to wear this,” I responded, taking the amulet from Kud-Ei’s clawed fingers. “What will it do?”

“The enchantment will make you drowsy at first. Once you fall asleep, it will then allow the black pearl access to your mind. This is a special amulet, though, Henantier asked me only to use it in case of an emergency. It will not access your mind, it will instead bridge your mind into Henantier’s, meaning you will be visiting his dreams.” Kud-Ei explained to me quickly. She seemed to be in a mighty hurry to put me to bed, she almost seemed like a mildly overbearing mother. “Now please, over here.” She indicated an empty bed very close to Henantier’s; one which I had a fleeting feeling was only recently separated from the other. “Put the amulet on, and let it take hold of you. Once you are inside Henantier’s dreams, try and find a way to get him out.”

“Would that be in any way dangerous?” I inquired. Given that I was liking this plan less and less every second, the answer was very predictable.

“It… might,” Kud-Ei responded hesitantly. “He created this Dreamworld to test his mettle and resolve, so there might be some challenge involved. Do take care not to get killed, though. Henantier told me little about the place, but he did say that being killed in the Dreamworld would mean death to your physical body, as well.”

Damn.

“Now please, there is very little time to lose,” Kud-Ei then encouraged me, motioning with vigor to the bed. Gritting my teeth at what I was getting myself into, I slipped the amulet over my shoulders and around my neck, and sank beneath the covers of the slightly lumpy bed.

Drowsiness hit me like a wallop to the stomach. My eyelids had turned to marble, and I was now waging an epic battle to keep them open, just long enough to say a little prayer.

“Ever watchful Lord of Horses, may your guidance never waver, and may your hooves beat always within my green fields of knowing.”




----




My eyes flew open. I was standing once again in the bedroom, but it had been altered nearly beyond recognition. Before I could drink everything in, though, a sudden chill immediately brought my attention to another fact. I had been changed, as well. And not in a very comforting way.

“Oh, great,” I muttered to myself, rolling my eyes. She just had to forget to mention I couldn’t take my clothes with me, didn’t she?

This post has been edited by Thomas Kaira: Mar 19 2011, 04:36 AM

[ghastley]

This sentence is awkward.
He had to be told several times to stop, and for a time after that horse mishap, which he had no involvement in I will tell you now, he did.
Maybe split it in two?
He had to be told several times to stop, and for a time after that horse mishap he did. Not that he had any involvement in it, I will tell you now.

Other than that it's a great exposition of the state of mind of those involved, especially getting him to agree before he's really ready.