Bloodline of a Hero, Hope you like it folks Options

[Taillus]

- Hey everyone. I am so glad to be back to this forum to be writing with you all. I have missed this place greatly and am honored that some of you are looking back to see some of my work from a number of years ago. This story has almost nothing to do with what I've done in the past but there may very well be some teeny tiny references in here for those who have been kind enough to do your homework. Without further delay, here is the beginning of my new Fan Fiction for Skyrim, Bloodline of a Hero.


Chapter 1


The subtle chirp of birds gradually brings me from last night’s slumber as I reach my hands over my head to touch the wall behind me. The early morning sun begins to wade its way through the thick Skyrim cloud cover and softly enters my small bedroom.

“And so begins another boring day in Riverwood.” I say aloud before yawning in an exaggerated manner and throwing my thick, wolf pelt blanket to the floor below me. The wooden floor is usually rather chilly in the early mornings so the throwing of the blanket was more a planned event as opposed to just happening out of laziness.

My name is Thaniel. I would tell you my last name, but people usually burst into a history lesson full of accomplishment from my distant ancestor. I would rather not be associated with the name because it seems that many members of my family have met their untimely end trying to follow in his footsteps.
My great grandfather was killed by a pack of bandits while he was exploring a ruin. I remember my uncle telling me a tale of one of my cousins in the Imperial City falling in the arena as well. Sadly it seems that those who bear my family name are blessed as well as cursed with courageous and heroic blood. At least my modest life keeps me alive...although sometimes I feel that Riverwood someday might just bore me to death.

I make my keep helping my uncle operate a small shop in Riverwood that tailors to the adventurers of Skyrim. We welcome visitors from all corners that look to purchase the equipment crucial to staying alive. We have everything here from armour and weapons, to soul gems and potions. We try to keep everything in stock that would keep our clients alive so that they can bring back spoils of lost caves and ruins for us to buy for the next adventurer to come to us.

Oddly enough, there is enough business just with the crazy cave spelunkers to keep us very comfortable but my uncle isn’t satisfied with that. He claims that a merchant always needs a steady supply of repeat business to reinforce the backbone of your income. It made sense to me, and since he had been a merchant longer than I have been in this world, who am I to argue? My uncle decided long ago to fight for a contract with the Imperial Legion to keep them in weapons and armour so as of late, we have been providing the soldiers of Helgen, Riverwood, and Falkreach their effects. We have even seen soldiers from Whiterun getting temporarily reassigned just to get their hands on our work.

My duties usually consist of cleaning and running the shop itself with the occasional visit to neighbouring towns to participate in their markets. This allows my uncle to slave away as a full-time blacksmith. I have been known to create a few items at the forge, but let us say that my work isn’t as...popular as my uncle’s work. On the other hand, I am quite skilled in fitting armour and sharpening weapons but I have been providing that service to the soldiers, free-of-charge in exchange for some weapons and armour training – something I have been doing for quite some time ever since the incident at the shop a few years back.

The incident I refer to was an attempted robbery at the shop that sadly turned to murder. I was cleaning the shop and just getting ready to close for the evening when I heard a noise upstairs in our living quarters. I knew my aunt was working on some leather armour upstairs and I thought that she might have just dropped something so I continued my duties. Little did I know that a thief had entered the upstairs through a window and cast a weak paralysis spell on my aunt, Viola. The sound I heard was her head hitting the table.

The thief was downstairs in the shop before I knew what was happening and he knocked me out cold with a blow from the handle of his blade. The sound of me hitting the wall alerted my uncle who ran inside to investigate. All I know is that a scuffle took place and my uncle suffered a deep wound to his right arm and was poisoned by the blade. The poison made him so weak that he couldn’t stay on his feet, and when the thief tried to make his escape through the upstairs window, my aunt met him at the stairs. The startled thief lashed out in reflex, stabbing my aunt in the chest before leaping through the window and making his escape.

When I had come to my senses, my uncle was in shambles and my aunt was gone. It was a wonder to me why my uncle even continued to run his shop, but ever since that day we have always worn armour while the shop was open, and I have been training with the guards in hopes of being able to fight back if there ever would be a “next time”.

The armour tends to make every job I do a bit more difficult due to the added weight but Uncle Owen claims that it “might put some muscle and meat on these Breton bones of mine.” It was a little joke we shared about being Bretons amongst Nords but despite the added weight and bulk of my hybrid leather and steel armour, and the repetitive tasks to be done at the shop the job isn’t all that bad. The fact that we see many customers keeps my pockets modestly lined in gold, and I do get to travel in a small caravan to neighbouring cities to participate in their markets. Not to mention the weapons and armour training I get from the local soldiers, and the respect we have from the quality of products we produce.

As I get myself dressed and ready for another day, I can hear my uncle Owen outside readying a cart. The subtle stomp of a horse as well as the clashing of metal items banging together can only mean one thing. It means that I have forgotten that today is one of the days that I am supposed to travel to Helgen to take part in their monthly market. Every month, the people of Helgen host a trade market so that local and neighbouring merchants can collaborate and attract a larger customer base. We take it as a perfect opportunity to trade our products for things we need at the shop. It is the cheapest way to acquire raw materials next to gathering them for yourself which is a luxury of time we are not blessed with.

The Helgen market is the largest of its kind in Skyrim. With people even travelling from the northern parts of Cyrodiil and the eastern parts of Hammerfell. We make sure our products are of the highest quality before sending them off to the market. My uncle wants to ensure that his craftsmanship is talked about between the three provinces and so far, we have done very well.

I begin my descent down the stairs to the shop just as my uncle comes back inside for another load of goods. He flashes me a big, goofy grin as he lobs another canvas sack over his shoulder. You would never know most days that he had relatively recently lost the love of his life. Perhaps that is why he keeps the shop running so that he might keep himself occupied enough to prevent losing his mind with sorrow. I often feel bad that my uncle and Viola never had any children of their own. Perhaps the burden of raising me prevented him from having his own offspring, but maybe his wife could never bear children and that I was actually a blessing. It is a subject that has never been discussed, so I continue wondering, and Owen continues not to bring it up.

Owen always gets excited when the market starts. He is excited at the chance of someone of great importance stumbling upon his wares and making his work famous. He has always taken great pride in his work, and I would love nothing more than for his work to be mentioned in the books of history. Maybe then my family name would be known for more than some Breton Battle Mage who inspired my ancestors to recklessly meet their maker while trying to save the world.

I decide to pack up and follow my uncle’s lead by grabbing the last sack of merchandise and heading out towards the wagon. I used to be apprehensive of travelling to neighbouring towns with a cart full of weapons and goods. The trails haven’t exactly been kind to caravans or travellers. The roads have been plagued with attacks from bandits who kill everyone in sight and pillage the carts for valuables. Thankfully the towns of southern Skyrim have agreed to post a guard swap just in time for the monthly market in Helgen. This means that we are accompanied by at least two guards who get posted to Helgen from Riverwood to help with the market. This also means that I don’t have to hide like a coward with the constant fear of a bandit attack.

Any chance I have to look like less of a coward is a welcomed thing, especially since I will be travelling with the girl of my dreams; the youngest of the Frostwater family, the beautiful Alia. I have had a mind crippling crush on this girl since I moved to Riverwood, but she has always had her arms wrapped around Ralof Shiversteel. He’s a nice enough young man and someone that I really have no issue with except for the simple fact that he has Alia’s love and I do not. Part of me wants to believe that it is because her family wants her to be with a Nordic man, and that she secretly wants to declare her love to me but the chances are fairly strong that this is nothing but wishful thinking.

Alia helps her parents by selling jewellery at the markets. She often comes to visit me at the shop, and buys time at the forge from my uncle. Our two families have been helping each other for years as her older sister has been known as a very powerful enchanter. We would often buy enchantments from them, and they would buy silver to make jewellery to place their enchanted stones in. Together, our two families have become rather prosperous and have benefitted greatly from each other.

I watch from across the way as the Frostwater family finishes up by saddling their horse with rucksacks filled with their very best jewellery. Alia gently sets herself atop the horse wearing her best clothes. She could be dressed in ragged cloth and she would still look just as beautiful. A smile crosses my lips as I climb atop the large wooden cart and the guards begin steering their horses in my direction.

Alia was fairly short for one of Nordic heritage but she possessed the strong, tight body that her kind is known for. Her fiery red hair is a trait of her family and is a welcomed contrast to the hues of blue and green seen in these areas. Her eyes almost glow a vibrant and bright green, and her skin was milky white and pure. She was a Nordic goddess in my eyes, and with her green and white clothes she had bought from the market last month, she kept my attention like nothing else.

“Alright, Thaniel. Here is the list of materials I want you to look for when you get to Helgen. We are running low on steel so I would appreciate you buying the raw steel instead of the ingots. It is less expensive and refining the metal will give you good practice!” My uncle chuckles as he hands me the small shopping list.

“And remember to keep an eye on that girl. Don’t let anything happen to Alia. I made a promise to her mother when we started this little tradition and I don’t want you to let me down. Keep an eye on her and make sure no one haggles her too much. She knows to set up her stand beside yours so that you can help her out.” Owen adds with a stern look on his face.

As if I needed someone to order me to keep my eye on Alia. I don’t think I could take my eyes off of her if we are being honest. Nevertheless, I gave uncle my word as the guards took their place in wait for Alia and I to set on our way.

We established a sort of marching order, with one guard taking point, and the other tailing me. We decided this was the best way a number of months ago. Alia was always in my line of sight in front of my horse, and she was protected by the guard on horseback in front of her. With the other guard tailing me to ensure my safety, it was the best plan of action in case of an attack.

As we begin the relatively short voyage to Helgen, my mind starts to wander about Alia and her boyfriend of sorts. I have always wondered why he would let his prize travel to another town without his protection. Nords are very proud people that would never stand for having another man protect their women. I suppose Nordic women aren’t fond of being protected so I guess that it would become a battle of words at that point.

Regardless, I can’t help but think that Ralof is a bit of a coward for not even coming along to keep the poor girl company. While Ralof hasn’t really given me much a reason to hate him other than from the jealousy of having Alia, I just can’t help but wonder that if Ralof is so big and powerful, why does he stay at home, letting his girl brave the trails without him? I bet that he couldn’t even swing a sword. I am startled from my inner monologue as I feel the tap of metal on my shoulder plate. Caught off guard, I look to my right to see that the guard that was formerly trailing behind me is now beside me.

“Best be wiping that goofy looking smile off your face before she turns around and sees you. I had to ride up alongside of you and give you proper warning. I know your intentions are well and you are just admiring that fiery headed young girl but if she were to turn around and see that stare of longing on your face... Well, it would just be embarrassing. I couldn’t let that happen, kid.” The guard whispers quietly before breaking into a big goofy grin of his own.

“So, you have a soft spot in your heart for Alia, do you? She is quite the attractive little girl indeed. But watch out with that Ralof would you? He has a jealous streak as long as the hair on my beard, young one. I have seen it with my own eyes and a man who believes himself to be the alpha male protecting his female can get very, VERY territorial. Understand what I am saying?” The guard continues as his horse keeps pace with mine.

Gordir was a good friend to my uncle and I. He has been a stationed guard in Riverwood for as long as I have been there, perhaps even longer. He is just older than my uncle but has gone prematurely grey in the hair due to the stresses on his body. Some guards say that he was attacked with a highly poisonous blade that caused his hair to turn grey when he was just a young man. It is hard to say if this is true or not because Gordir doesn’t indulge in the rumors. Nonetheless, Gordir is a very strong looking man for his age, and shows no sign of slowing down. His thick but tidy beard ends just by his collar bone and is host to about four small braids, each bead representing a victory of battle. His head is shiny and bald, and his face is warm and kind, although creased with the lines of age and experience.

I explain to him that it was nothing more than a harmless crush. It was nothing but mere admiration of her relentless beauty and that I understood the workings of Ralof’s mind. I hoped that he would quickly drop the subject so that I could just get back to speaking ill of Ralof in my head. I appreciated his words of wisdom, and I greatly appreciate the warning that I may have been staring at her. Sometimes I just can’t help myself...

Just as I am about to go back to daydreaming about Alia, I watch as the guard taking the lead is cast off his horse by an arrow to the neck. His body slumps to the left before rolling completely off his horse. The shriek from Alia let me know that I wasn’t seeing things. Someone was after our caravan, my very worst nightmare. The guard’s horse, knowing that something is wrong, bursts ahead of us, now free of its rider. I watch as two bandits leap from the bushes, scaring the horse that is carrying Alia. Her horse rears up on its hind legs and throws her hard to the mud beneath us.

I leap from my wagon, landing at her side as the guard behind me races ahead of us with his sword at the ready. There was no way that two meagre bandits could stand against an armoured soldier of the Imperial legion. I pull Alia from behind her horse and out from in front of my own. I tell her to keep her head down in the event that there were more archers with eyes on us. I draw her tight to me as we head for the underside of my wagon.

“There is a small access hatch underneath this wagon. Open it up and climb inside. The canvas cover will keep you from their sight. I am going to help Gordir fight those bandits!” I whisper quietly as I watch her follow my instructions. As I get to my feet, I notice that three more bandits were tailing us. I draw my blade and wait for them to approach.

My mind races and my heart starts to pump with the ferocity of a war drum. Pure adrenaline courses through my veins and my eyes hyper focus on the three bandits. Flashes of a man in an exquisite suit of armour run through my mind as I listen to the taunts of the approaching bandits. Without even thinking, I unbuckle the leather loop that keeps my short sword in its hilt and draw it before pointing the blade mockingly at the bandits.

“So the little boy has a sword? I was going to ask if you would like the chance to run away, but I think this is going to be much more entertaining!” One of the bandits laughs as he sprints in my direction to initiate an attack.

What he wasn’t expecting was for me to lunge in his direction to meet him. I smile at the look of surprise crossing his face as I leap forward to meet him before he was ready, jamming my shoulder into his ribcage. His sword was far above his head as he was trying to look as menacing as possible. He was also holding a very heavy and old looking long sword. It would have taken him forever to bring that down on my head. I knew before I even sprung to action that his exaggerated pose was more to threaten me than to attack me. Too bad he had no clue the training I have received.

The bandit staggers backwards from the assault to his ribcage. The wind was knocked from his lungs and he falls to his knees to catch his breath. So far, I had one down for the moment, which allowed me to focus on the other two. Not too bad for my first real skirmish.

Not looking to be made a fool like their comrade, the other two rushed in my direction, weapons at the ready in hopes to overwhelm me. I simply smile as I tighten my grip on my short sword in my right hand, and quickly draw a small dagger from a sheath on my left calf and hold it with the blade facing downward.

“One blade for each of you maggots... No need to share!” I growl as they draw ever closer. I watch closely as the bandit on the right side plants his leading foot in preparation to swing his blade. His right hand rises up and out before swinging diagonally in front of me. It was a very sloppy attack that is met by my sword meeting his; knocking it off its path and leaving him open for an attack from my dagger. I crowd into his personal space while dodging an attack from the bandit on the left and quickly proceed to jam the dagger into the space between his breast and shoulder plate – Essentially burying the length of the dagger into his collarbone.

The bandit on the right screams out in pain before dropping his blade to his side. The bandit on the left throws his friend to the ground behind him as he readies his axe for another attack. I smile at him before looking over my shoulder at bandit number one who is still gasping for air. The axe wielding bandit roars obscenities as he swings wildly in my direction like a man possessed. I watch his movements closely as I simply step out of his way with each swing. The axe was heavy and the bandit obviously had little experience using it. My guess was that he picked it up during his last raid and decided to run with it.

“Not used to using an axe are you?” I provoke as I continue side stepping his swings. I mention that his friend’s sword was behind him, and that he was more than free to pick that up instead. As good an idea as that really was, the suggestion just seemed to send the man further into a frenzy. I almost giggled with excitement as he continued to swing madly at me. I never knew that the adrenaline would do this to me. I was a new man! I loved it, craved it even! I didn’t want it to end. The bandit almost seemed to slow to a crawl as I watched his movements. Sadly, it all ended for him as his swinging caused his arms to almost give out from exhaustion.

I decided to let him off easy, striking him in the forehead with the hilt of my sword and fist after one of his last tired swings. The man simply fell unconscious before my feet. The first bandit had gotten back to his feet at this point, and had been watching his partners get embarrassed by a young Breton. He lunged in my direction, but I could tell at this point, it was in vain. He lacked the confidence he once had, and doubted his skill in comparison to mine. I raised my short sword up to meet his head, but swiftly let the blade drop to my left hand. He had lifted his blade up to counter an overhead attack, and couldn’t drop his bulky sword in time to deflect the attack to his abdomen from my left hand.

A look of fear crossed his face and it was at this time I knew it was the first time he had ever suffered a blow. These bandits were severely lacking in experience. It almost made me feel remorse when the man fell to my feet. I watched as the bandit with my dagger still buried in this collarbone started to drag his unconscious friend away into the brush, albeit very painstakingly. The adrenaline started to leave me back to my former self but the thoughts and images of the man in the shimmering armour still plagued my mind. Who was he? His armour was brilliant and his eyes burned with the experience of a hundred thousand battles.

My visions were interrupted by the reception of both Gordir the guard, and Alia as they run to me with matching looks of complete shock.

“Thaniel! Wherever did you learn to brawl like that? It was like nothing I have ever seen before. There is no way in oblivion you were only trained by us guards. The way you moved! The way you danced around each attack like you knew exactly what was going to happen. You made those three bandits looks like small children. I had my hands full with the two that attacked me.” Gordir explains in complete astonishment.

“You were amazing Thaniel! I had no idea you were capable of doing something like that! There was nothing they could do to stop you. I watched the whole thing! You fought like you had been fighting your whole life!” Alia shouts as she wraps her arms around my neck.

“There is no telling what would have happened if you weren’t here! They would have done terrible things Thaniel! I am so glad you were here to protect me.” She adds as we walk back to the horses and my cart.

I decided that it would be best for the rest of the trip if I rode Alia’s horse to Helgen and took the lead while she sat atop my cart and steered my horse. Gordir would continue to look out from behind and we all hoped that we wouldn’t meet any more resistance.

Still though, I wondered about the man in those images. It was almost as if it he was helping me throughout the whole fight. As if the thoughts and movements were his idea and he was guiding me. Gordir was right. The tactics and skills I used during that fight were nothing like the training I was getting from the guards. The skill level I was operating at was of a much higher calibre. If only I could figure out who that person was...

[Athynae]

Welcome back Taillus! And what a way to make an entrance!! I think I may have to go back and read some of your previous material!

So, one question, would I be correct if I assumed there might be some "history" of Thaniel's ancestors in said material??? I get the feeling there's more to Thaniel than than even he knows.

The fight scene was well done, and the teaser is a good reason for me to request more of this story but it is not the ONLY good reason!

Great write!!! And

WELCOME BACK!!!

[jack cloudy]

Nice to see you again. And yup, I've got a good hunch that ancestor's name starts with an A. I also liked the cocky grandpa-posessed fight. Now I just wonder if this is enough to make him go chase his family's glorious heritage of killing things and getting his head stomped in.

[Taillus]

Athynae - You hit the nail on the head for sure. While I was never planning on being overly secretive in the fact that Thaniel might be related to someone I have written a fiction about in the past; it is his reluctance to relate to his ancestor that I hope will help develop the story even more as I go along.

Thaniel doesn't want to fall in with his relatives that have died trying to place their names in legend much like someone in his history.

Thanks for the comments and I appreciate the enthusiasm!

[mALX]

I would tell you my last name, but people usually burst into a history lesson full of accomplishment from my distant ancestor. I would rather not be associated with the name because it seems that many members of my family have met their untimely end trying to follow in his footsteps.

Loved this paragraph! (and how he then goes on to detail the mishaps instead of heroics) - great start to your story!

I am so glad you are writing this story from your own storyline idea - in your previous stories that is when your writing is at its best!

Still though, I wondered about the man in those images. It was almost as if it he was helping me throughout the whole fight. As if the thoughts and movements were his idea and he was guiding me. Gordir was right. The tactics and skills I used during that fight were nothing like the training I was getting from the guards. The skill level I was operating at was of a much higher calibre. If only I could figure out who that person was...

What a great beginning! Your introduction of interesting characters was perfectly paced for a good start on development of them. Add in the mystery man in the visions that was helping him (like the comments above, I also pictured it being one of his more heroic ancestors) - Awesome detail that was for sparking off the beginning of what promises to be a very interesting story!

I'm intrigued to see what your imagination and creativity have in store for us in Skyrim!! Awesome Write !! And Welcome Back to the forums !!

[McBadgere]

Well, at least you didn't go straight for the big fight... ...

Excellently done btw...Nice planning... ...

Brilliant chapter...

One nit...All this...

The fact that we see many customers keeps my pockets modestly lined in gold, and I do get to travel in a small caravan to neighbouring cities to participate in their markets. Not to mention the weapons and armour training I get from the local soldiers, and the respect we have from the quality of products we produce.

You'd already essentially said this 4 paragraphs earlier...

Other than that...Brilliant... ...

*Applauds*...

*Robert awards the official Nice One!!...*

Nice One!!!... ...

[Acadian]

Welcome back! Off to a rousing restart. You give us a nice introduction of Thaniel, his life and ambitions.

The vagueness surrounding his ancestry seems to come to life as he saves the damsel in distress. A mystery as to what is behind his skills indeed.

You seem to be trying to write the story in present tense. That is nearly an impossible undertaking to pull off with consistency. Here is just one of several examples where you mix tenses:
’It was a very sloppy attack that is met by my sword meeting his.’

[Taillus]

Acadian - Thank you so much for pointing that out. This was a huge issue of mine in the past as well. I like the insight and commentary that present tense gives but it makes things really hard to compose. Funny as well that you mention it because I haven't been able to sleep tonight just thinking about that very same dilemma.

I might have to start from scratch if before I get too far into this one. I think you might have made up my mind. Or perhaps I will change things moving forward and then come back and re-write this chapter later on...

Decisions, decisions...

[Taillus]

Hey folks,

Just finishing up what I believe is the best copy of Chapter 2 I could muster on the little sleep I've been getting. Feel free to add as much or as little constructive criticism as needed. All-in-all I feel rather happy with the way the storyline is going so far and I wrote an entire chapter without anyone getting into a fight! I feel so diplomatic!! Anyway, here goes. Hope everyone enjoys it!


Chapter 2

“Come gather round and hear stories aloft, about a great Breton hero – Xander Moorcroft.
His mind was as sharp as his blade they do say, and a voice with the strength to drive demons away.
He battled his foe from Morrowind to Cyrodiil, against a man who grew stronger with each kill.
Let us celebrate the life of this valiant champion, who gave his own life to save everyone.
Let us join hands and cheer for the one with no fear;
As the oblivion gates turn to dust and disappear...”

Thaniel rolls his eyes as the bard continues to chant. He hated this song with every fibre of his being. Anyone who reads the books of history knows that it took thousands of people to rally together and close the gates to Oblivion during the crisis. There was no way that one single man could waltz into one and force it to close. Armies struggled with the might of the Daedric warriors that flooded from each gate. To go in alone would be sure suicide.

“What’s the matter, Thaniel? You look to be rather distraught.” Alia says as she finishes what she believes to be her last interaction of the day. She thanks the person for their purchase and waves happily as the robed individual places the small amulet into a pouch and turns to leave. They had both already sold the vast majority of their wares from Riverwood and the sun was beginning to fall beneath the trees. They had already decided to purchase rooms at the local inn instead of braving the trails at dusk and it would give them time to browse the remnants of the market for supplies.

“I just hate bards. They sing songs that make them money and have a total disregard for fact. They rely on rumours and legend.” Thaniel growls as he plants his head on his hands, letting his chin rest on his palms as his elbows press into the countertop before him.

“Well I, for one, would rather hear songs based on adventure that may not be entirely true, than sit through a history lesson shrouded in music.” Alia laughs as she begins packing her remaining supplies into canvas bags.

“True enough, but this Alexander Moorcroft from ages ago has been making fools of my ancestors for many years. It seems that most of my relatives have gotten themselves killed trying to carry on the pride and glory of the family name. I just wish that everyone would forget about it all. It was what, almost 400 years ago?” Thaniel explains as he tries not to let his hands muffle his speech.

“You do know that there is a very large statue of that man you are talking ill about in Cyrodiil, don’t you Thaniel?” Alia adds with a mocking smile as she hoists the canvas bag over her shoulder.

“C’mon, pack up your stuff! We’ll leave it in the room at the Inn so we can go back out and buy some things to take home with us!” She chirps before running ahead into the crowd. Thaniel lifts his head from his hands with an exaggerated sigh and begins packing up the rest of his equipment.

Later that night, as the two visit the remaining merchant booths, they are met by Gordir, who tells him the boring tales of being on watch at the Helgen Market.

“Seriously, not even a petty theft attempt? No missing children, no crooked merchants? Nothing at all happened today?” Thaniel questions as the three walk down the dirt paths between stands. Gordir shrugs in confirmation while picking a bit of food from his teeth with his fingernail.

“So what are you kids looking to bring home with you? You just about ran out of goods to sell, so you should take advantage of having so much room to bring things back.” Gordir laughs as he tails half-a-pace behind. The three scan each booth curiously as the sun continues to make its descent beneath the tree line. It was a very productive day at least for Alia and Thaniel, and they were excited to reap the benefits of such success.

“I am going to look for some seeds perhaps. Maybe then I can expand that garden of ours to more than potatoes and carrots.” Alia laughs as she stops at a merchant’s table. Thaniel continues to walk forward without saying a word as he approaches a large stand that is crowded with books. Gordir looks awkwardly at Thaniel for simply walking away, but continues to keep watch over Alia as she shops.

“You looking for a good book to read, young man?” an elderly lady asks with a small smile on her face as she locks eyes with Thaniel. Thaniel nods, still not saying a word as he is drawn to the table. The lady’s smile grows wider as she watches him scan the book titles. Without speaking another word herself, she turns on her heels, and reaches out for a small, black, leather bound book on the fourth shelf behind her. She hands it to Thaniel before telling him to read the cover.

“Final thoughts of a Tortured Soul.” Thaniel reads aloud before the woman. He looks up at her with a confused look on his face.

“Do I look like one with a tortured soul? Why did you choose this book for me?” He asks as he flips the book over in his hands. The woman’s smile quickly fades as her demeanor changes to match.

“That book is the written confession of the man that killed Alexander Moorcroft. There are only ten copies of that book in existence and it details how the man of legend met his end. There is no better tale for a young man like yourself to read than one of this calibre. I am sure it will keep your attention from beginning to end, my boy.” The lady explains as she places her hands back beneath her robes.

“How much do I owe you for this?” Thaniel asks as he once again flips the book to view it from all angles. He looks up after a few moments upon realizing the woman hadn’t responded to his question.

“Excuse me, I asked you how much I owe...” Thaniel asks again before being interrupted.

“You are blessed and cursed with an adventurer’s soul, much like your relatives before you. You hunger for battle, and you crave a weapon in your hand and armour on your back. It is the spirit of Xander Moorcroft that flows through your veins. I can see the fire that burns in your eyes like an alpha wolf ready to hunt. You may not be willing to admit it now, but soon, you will leave your home in search of something worth fighting for. Mark my words young man, and when you do find something worth fighting for... Pity help those who oppose you.” The old woman adds before sitting on a tall wooden stool behind her.

“Any price would be enough to learn such a crucial piece of your family history, my son.” The woman exclaims, “But ten gold pieces will be sufficient for an old lady to part with such a valuable book from her collection.”

Thaniel drops the gold on the old woman’s counter and leaves the book stand with a look of eternal confusion on his face. He is quickly met by Alia who seemed to be concerned with his sudden disappearance. Gordir casually strolls over to them as his focus is now more on the grilled rabbit meat on a stick that he had just recently purchased from a nearby vendor.

“I turned around and you were nowhere to be found, Thaniel. It frightened me. Where did you run off to?” Alia asked as she notices the black book in his hands.

“I just bought this book from the older lady running that stand behind us. She seemed to know more about me than I knew of myself. I mean, she knew that I was a Moorcroft and wanted me to buy this book about Alexander Moorcroft’s death.” Thaniel explains as he turns his head to look over his shoulder at the old lady’s shop again. “How was she able to tell that I had the same blood?” He asks again, the look of confusion locked on his face.

“So you mean that older lady? The one in the dark grey robes who was buying a small amulet from me just as the bard was singing of The Great Alexander Moorcroft? She must have still been close enough to us to hear our conversation of how you hated all of the stories of his heroics and conned you into buying that book.” Alia explains as she struggles to keep back laughter.

“Looks like you were played, young man!” Gordir laughs in between bites of his snack. The two burst into laughter as Gordir pats Thaniel on the back, nudging him to head back to the Inn for the night.

“You two go back to the inn and grab a bite to eat. Leave your shopping lists with me and I will have all of your supplies ready for you before we leave in the morning okay?” Gordir smiles as he takes their shopping lists and gold. “I still have a night shift of patrolling so I will have nothing better to do. I will have everything you need waiting in your cart. Have a good night, you two!” Gordir adds before humming the tune of Alexander Moorcroft loudly in between gnawing on his snack...

Night time ascends on the town of Helgen as the guards take their rightful places for the night. The large wooden doors leading to the vast Skyrim wilderness are pulled shut and bolted for the rest of the evening. There were far too many expensive items within their walls to allow someone inside under the cloak of darkness.

“Market Stall Merchants! This is your last call! Please pack up your belongings for the night and either stay by your horses in the stables or find rest at our inn. A curfew will come into effect in roughly fifteen minutes. Thank you for your patronage and have a good night!” A voice can be heard from atop a watch tower. They always do this on market days. Anyone seen roaming the streets will be immediately suspected of thievery and will be apprehended for questioning. It was perhaps a bit of overkill, but it made the merchants feel safe.

Thaniel decided that no time would be better than the present to crack open his new book. Although he felt cheated that the old lady conned him into buying the book, and probably for a much larger price than it was worth, he was suddenly interested in reading it – as if fate compelled him to buy it despite the embarrassing transaction.

He read of the battles with the man named Taillus, the supposed writer of the book. He read of the Mace of Molag Bal, the mercury armor of Jiub, the possession of other bodies, the earth shattering magicka, and finally, the reflection spell that was able to amplify Alexander’s own dreadfully strong spell and cast it back at himself. It was a gripping tale to be sure, and Thaniel had actually neglected sleep to read the entire thing in one sitting. He felt the slightest bit of anger in the fact that someone so powerful and heroic did exist and share his bloodline. It meant that all of his relatives did, in fact, die trying to live up to compliment his greatness; but he also felt joy in the fact that all of his relatives weren’t chasing after legend and rumor... They were trying to appease the adventurer’s soul that they were blessed and cursed with.

[Athynae]

This one made me smile. I like the way you allowed the old woman to "play" him. And Alia might be just a bit smarter than the average hot bod.

A peek into the past, just a peek but none-the-less intriguing. I am looking forward to the progression of this tale and seeing how Thaniel gets coerced into accepting his ancestral calling.

Great write, I like the ones that just kind of fall onto the page like they had been there all along and you just cast the spell that made the words visible... keep it up.

[Grits]

I’m enjoying your story, Taillus! Thaniel has a good life, family that cares for him, friends who like to kid around… and a little spirit of Xander Moorcroft ready to jump out the next time danger calls. He might as well get his bags packed!

The interaction between your characters is my favorite part so far. I look forward to seeing where Thaniel's adventurer's soul takes him.

[mALX]

I agree with Grits, your dialogue is superb !! Awesome storyline so far !!

[jack cloudy]

Oh, I love your dialogue and how you use it to build your characters. But when was Taillus in the position to leave a book for copying and sale? Ah well, the old lady was rather mysterious so it could have been a Daedra/Divine in disguise moving in mysterious ways. It also seemed that Thaniel popped into a private space while the sale was made. The other two thought he'd dissappeared after all.

[mALX]

Oh, I love your dialogue and how you use it to build your characters. But when was Taillus in the position to leave a book for copying and sale? Ah well, the old lady was rather mysterious so it could have been a Daedra/Divine in disguise moving in mysterious ways. It also seemed that Thaniel popped into a private space while the sale was made. The other two thought he'd dissappeared after all.

Saleslady: "Er...is that an Elder Scroll in your pocket?"

This post has been edited by mALX: Jan 6 2012, 05:36 PM

[Taillus]

Here is the continuation of Chapter 2 - Took a little while to finish but I hope you all enjoy nonetheless!


Gordir leaves the guard tower and decides to roam the streets of Helgen to ensure that everyone was obeying the curfew. It was a boring task considering everyone seemed to be eager to get some sleep after a long day of buying and selling. He walked by the Inn and smiles from the sounds of people stomping their feet and singing along to popular folk songs. He knew that the innkeeper would quiet them down in due time so he wasn’t worried about having to be the damper on good spirits. What he was more interested in was the young man he had seen lurking in the shadows just before he was leaving the watch tower.

Gordir saw the young man and decided to keep his distance. He wanted to follow the man, but not directly. He could have acted like most guards and just shouted out, announcing his presence but Gordir was more a fan of thinking ahead to the bigger picture. What would make someone so openly defy the orders of the city guard. It was either something criminal, or something so utterly important one would risk getting caught.

He watched as the man ducked and weaved through the streets, acrobatically leaping over the merchant tables and stands that were in the way of his destination. Gordir hoped desperately that he wasn’t in the tracks of a skilled assassin, as that was a can of worms he wouldn’t mind leaving closed. Of course he also considered the fact that if this man was, in fact a skilled assassin Gordir wouldn't have seen him in the first place. Finally, he watched as the man slid into the front door of a small house seated on the southern edge of town. Gordir stopped just outside the home and took a look around. He noticed even in darkness that the house was in just good enough condition not to be condemned and literally had no defining features about it - Nothing distinctive at all.

“I wonder what is going on inside that would warrant someone getting caught breaking curfew to visit.” Gordir whispers to himself as he rounds the backside of the small home. He had so many questions already and he didn’t even have the slightest clue what was going on. The guard kneels beside a basement window as he watches a handful of figures walking down the stairs with small lanterns in hand. From the dim lighting, Gordir was certain that the people in the room were all close to Thaniel’s age, perhaps a tad older. They all looked to be dressed in fairly wealthy clothes as well.

Gordir decides to open the small window just the smallest amount, and shoves a small rock into the hinge to keep it propped open just enough to allow him to hear the potential conversations within. At this point, Gordir was crouched in an almost seated position with his back to the wall, next to the small window. He wanted to be able to hear the people talk, but he also wanted a wall to his back so he couldn’t be caught off guard. (No pun intended)

“Alright men...Please take your seats so we can get this meeting under order. I appreciate you all travelling here to Helgen for this month’s meeting. I know that Whiterun is far more convenient a place to gather but I thought it best that we all take advantage of the market to replenish our supplies. We are going to have a very active few months coming ahead of us so we are going to have to acquire the best supplies we can get our hands on.” A young man explains as he adjusts his position at the head of the table.

“The once shaky truce shared between the Stormcloak supporters and the Imperial Legion has seemed to become much more concrete as of late. It seems that Ulfric and Tullius negotiated some terms involving control of a few of the various holds of Skyrim. I haven’t heard which holds are involved, but I guess that Riften, Dawnstar, Markarth, and Falkreach are up for grabs. I don’t need to tell any of you how bad this truce is for business!” The young man continues.

Gordir raises his eyebrow at the mention of “Business” and continues to listen to the men talk.

“That being said, I think we need to do everything in our power to break the truce. Not being aligned to either side, we are freely able to march to any city we want. Not to mention that with each of us coming from families of power here in Skyrim, no one would ever even question us. I think we need to stir the pot here and get the hatred between the Stormcloaks and Imperial Legion burning once again. War is a very profitable engagement and as long as we play this right, we can have wealth beyond our imaginations.” The young man finishes as he then leaves the table open to negotiation.

“There is a Breton in my hometown that is getting to be quite the blacksmith. His uncle is probably one of the best here in Skyrim. I could...persuade him to craft some gear for us and my girl at home is sister to a very skilled enchanter. Perhaps I could pull some strings and have some very high end equipment made for each of us. We would be unstoppable! We would just need some filled soul gems to power it all.” A young man explains as he leans back in his chair.

“Was that Ralof Shiversteel I just heard in there?” Gordir whispers to himself as he crouches lower and tries to get a look inside. “The mention of his girl with an enchanter sister, and the Breton smith; that had to be Ralof.” He thinks aloud as he practically lays on the ground to get a better look. The group continues to toss ideas around on how they could best fund their “warmachine” and from what Gordir could tell, they were all young men from families of wealth. He could even further speculate that they are all from what a true Nord would consider some of the founding families of Skyrim. These young men are talking about sparking a war that could potentially destroy the very home their forefathers created.

Gordir adjusts his position on the ground and reaches out to open the window just a touch more, but forgot about the small rock that was previously holding it open. He gasps quietly as the small rock plummets from the window’s frame before skipping across the floor beneath the table. It was enough of a sound for each of the young men to look in that direction and see the guard spying on them outside.

“Seems we have a friend outside who doesn’t know enough to mind his own damn business. Kill him.” The young man says as the others burst from their seats and head upstairs. Gordir scrambles to his feet and sprints away from the house. He knew it wouldn’t take long for them to catch up with him because of their youth and lack of armour. Gordir leaps over a small stone wall belonging to the home next door and continues to run back into the heart of town. Just as he thought he was home free, he is caught in the chest by a mace, sending him to his back on the ground behind him.

“Gordir? What the hell are you doing here?” The young man asks as he stands over the fallen guard. Gordir immediately recognises the voice of Ralof and struggles to get back to his feet. He was still winded by the young man’s attack, and he gasps heavily to catch his breath.

“I... I could ask you the very same, young man. To let your little lady travel out of town on dangerous roads without you is not like a noble Nordic man. You should be ashamed of yourself! Especially since you were planning on coming to Helgen to begin with.” Gordir growls as he climbs back to his feet.

“Talk about Alia and I take your head from your shoulders, you maggot!” Ralof barks as he nudges Gordir in the chest with the mace. “You should be lucky it was me that found you and not one of the others. I will tell them that you got away and I won’t mention your name; but you owe me, old man!” Ralof hisses as he nudges Gordir with the mace once again.

“Do you really think it a wise move to assault a member of the Imperial Legion? I could have those very nice clothes of yours covered in dirt and blood while you spend some time in Whiterun’s prison.” Gordir grins as he bats the mace away from his chest.

“That is nothing compared to what a wealthy young brat who could get away with murder could do to a nosy, old guard.” Ralof explains before catching Gordir with another swing of his mace.

“Watch your mouth, and especially...Watch your back, old man! The Sons of Skyrim are not the type of people to get tangled up with. That is not a threat. It is a promise.” Ralof adds before walking away, leaving Gordir to look up at the night sky in an attempt to catch his breath again.

[jack cloudy]

And the plot thickens! It looks like Thaniel could have legitimate reason to dislike his crush's fiancee. Given that he was planning for a quiet life without any silly and dangerous adventures, he wouldn't appreciate these warmongering kids. Of course, he doesn't know about that. Ah well, I'm sure he'll find out sooner or later.

I did like how Gordir had the brainpower to realize that sometimes silence is the best approach when discovering a potential crime. I also liked the conversation at the end. Just the right amount of arrogance born from classic 'I've got powerful friends and lots of money and prestige so screw the rules'-syndrome.

Just one thing. You skip from present tense to past tense. Its a bit distracting.

[mALX]

This chapter shows a marked improvement in the "Tenses-switching" from previous chapters, glad you are working on that. I usually never notice anything like that, so it was def an issue if I was distracted by it. Great Write !!!