Knights of the Nine - New Kvatch, Attempt at fan-fic Options

[Athynae]

Just want to say for now
I LOVE KOYREE......She reminds me of someone,childhood curiosity and all that.

More later my friend.

Ok, now it's later (morning edit)

The wonderful imagery of this part about Koyree is great. I had to smile through the way you described her youth and couldn't help but think of Thyna, both of them striving to be all that they could possibly be in their particular areas to the point of obsession-and causing a bit of trouble in the process. Makes me smile.

Her meeting of and with Feere was an eyebrow lifter, finding friends in the oddest of places and the way he discovered her was tremendously insightful of you.

Courageous the way she took the Looking Elysweyr from the Thalmor, gotta love a woman with guts. Oopsie on the fish though, like a bad dose of ...well never mind, that's another story.

And then the Miz', what a ship!!!! Amazing! And then to find out it was the ship that called Septim, Mara and Julianos, not only an amazing piece of Dwemer tech but 'good' too, nice.

There were many parts that made me laugh, and some that made me almost wipe tears. I really liked this story about the Areldur child.

Oh, stop blaming poor Grits for everything...it was a good idea all on its own, I agree with the Col. I mean I'm no authority on this stuff except for what I have read and asea they need something that reaches far beyond hand to hand or even a bow so....my two cents, pence, whatever it is wherever you are.

This post has been edited by Athynae: Apr 16 2012, 11:51 AM

[Grits]

Yes, it’s all Grits’ fault...*Grins mischeviously*...

Ha! This is what I get for falling behind!

I was enjoying another wonderful adventure with Koyree, and then the Mriizeleft sailed along and stunned my brain into silence. That. Was. Awesome!!

I like that Koyree who has fed her mind with everything she encounters is brought down by a poorly chosen dinner.

“We’ve really got to stop this making everyone immortal thing.” Said Tiber, “We’ll be overrun with them soon.” He smiled.

I was thinking the same thing. You Divines are making this into a habit!

Tiber sighed, “Time was when we made people walk the Pilgrim’s Way. Now we stand in the middle of the ocean with some random girl...” he shook his head.

I didn’t even have time to recover from the last one! Tiber was priceless throughout. It was great fun to read the whole Koyree Interlude together. She is an intriguing character, and I always love it when some Divines show up.


Oh, and thanks for the pronunciation lesson! I was saying it all wrong, except for spitting out the sides on the Ll. Sprained tongue avoided. Now, can you describe how to say “Llechwen”?

[McBadgere]

NEW PARTS ALERT...Even when we thought there was going to be none for a while... ...


Thank yous...

Mustard - Cheers matey...And I thank you for the nod towards the "cannons"...

Acadian - Again, thank you for being...Ahem...On board with the cannon idea... ...No, no tour for the Marie Celeste...Hang on...Mriizeleft, just yet... ...

Athynae - Thank you for all that...Means a lot...*Bows head*...Thankee... ...

Grits - So glad the Mriizeleft worked for you...I keep trying to think what the hells I'm gonna do when it comes time to actually write the Ghost Hunt chapters... ...Many thanks as ever...So glad the Divines get the smiles still... ...



So, where we were...Nol Areldur, Siar Eremnor and Jeck Harramaund returned to the Summerset Isle's southern city, Dusk in order to see about retaking the Altmer nation from the Thalmor...As you do...They, along with Nol's daughter Koyree were captured by the Thalmor Justicar Ondolemar. Koyree cast her Shroud spell and escaped. This is what happened next...


The Empire story is set in 3E 604, this is 10 years earlier...Got it?... ...


*EDIT: The Elder Scrolls Wiki has the description of Alinor as a city of Insect Wings and...Dandelion Seeds or something...Well...Surprisingly enough...Not having that...Bit, too odd for me...So anyways...Enjoy!!...Thank you...Please?... ...







1.12 – Empire (pt. 5 – Know Thine Enemy – iii)









10 years ago. The road to Alinor, Summerset Isles.







At some point during the early stages of the carriage-ride, Nol had fallen asleep. Now, as he woke and glanced about him, the day had become sunny and the heat oppressive. Bottles of water had been provided – as a surprise – by the Thalmor. The Overlord, it seemed, had ordered that Areldur and company be treated well.

Areldur looked at the other two in the nicely liveried, comfortably upholstered and equipped, but most definitely locked carriage. Harramaund was lying across the seating opposite. Several empty water bottles, a testament to his continuing recovery from the days of drinking; And Eremnor was looking out, through the large paned windows at the countryside, presumably wondering as much as Areldur, whether they would ever see the sea again.

Nol put his head to the pane next to him, in an effort to see behind, as they were at that point making a sweeping, gradual turn. Unfortunately the pace was such that the buildings in the distance could only have been West Checkpoint. Areldur sighed.

“The view’s nicer this side, want to swap?” asked Eremnor.

Nol smiled at his friend but then shook his head.

Siar looked at Areldur, and said, “She’ll be fine. She’s too much like you to need worrying about.”

Nol raised his eyebrows and looked exaggeratedly about the carriage with his eyes.

Eremnor laughed once and replied, “Point taken. She’ll be fine, Nol.” and he gripped Areldur’s forearm.

Areldur nodded and turned his eyes out to the slowly passing scenery.



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The Tarsuschii Mountain range behind Dusk is just one part of the chain that went snake-like through the main Isle, from the eastern edge, down to a southern point, halfway between Dusk and Sunhold, they then made – more or less straight northwest – towards Alinor. At a point nearer to the city, the range circles north around Alinor and, much like the other two coasts, it leaves the smallest gap which the North Highway utilises to go out of the Capitol in that direction. Finally, the range hugs the coast northeast again, finally crossing the country, until reaching the massive Eton-Nir with its glorious ancient city of Cloudrest atop it. The mountains then drop off as if whichever of the Divines had created this particular island had gotten bored, having finally made the largest mountain.



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The road to Sunhold stayed close to the coast, the smell of the salt air reminding them how tantalisingly close to freedom they were. They reached Sunhold after nightfall, and spent a few hours of sleep in an old fort that dated back to the days of Tiber Septim’s conquest of the Isles.

Next morning, before the sun looked over the horizon they were back on the main road, headed northwest. The Tarulsishuk Mountains seeming to creep back towards them as the road headed straight towards Alinor.

The three men looked out of the seaward windows to try and catch a last glimpse of the sea before Alinor and the Overlord.

Jeck said “What do you think he’s gonna do with us?”

Nol shrugged and sat back down.

Siar looked at Nol and frowned. He sighed and answered. “Well, it’s possible he wants to kill us himself, or maybe he just wants to try and convert us. Tcheet’s unlikely to know why Miitr really sent us away. As far as we know, he could just think we were just out there following the Oversaar’s official orders.”

“Yeah,” answered Harramaund, obviously unconvinced, “but from what you said, he’s got at least four search teams unaccounted for. Even the least paranoid person would pause to start wondering about that.”

There was a pause, and then Siar said, “We all knew we should have stayed away, shouldn’t we?”

Jeck nodded his agreement,

“And yet we all came back on time. We don’t know how much that will count towards anything. People with stuff to hide don’t generally put their faces in front of the homicidal maniac rulers.”

“Well, we’ve got a few hours before we find out eh? Anyone bring a pack of cards?” asked Jeck.

Nol looked at him with no emotion, turned his head away and looked up at the Tarulsishuk Mountains.



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The mountain ranges were virtually impossible to get up for two reasons.

One was that on only a few had anything resembling a road been able to be built. And even then, there seemed to be no way to the summits. Switchback trails lead up and over some of the lesser troughs between the peaks.

How the cities atop some of the highest mountains had been built had quietly baffled the greatest academics on the Isles for a great many years. But even from the plains it was obvious who could claim at least two of the types of city.

Both the Dwemer and the Ayelids had been able to build cities on the top of several peaks along the range. A third distinctive and separate type of architecture could be seen in a few, suggesting that another race had reached the summits through whatever means. Great, massive pyramids at one end of each of these other cities summiting the massifs, suggested possible attempts at reaching further into the heavens. No one knew.

One idea of how these cities of towers, massive statues and ziggurats came to be created, was by using great, vast underground tunnels in each of the mountains, winding their way up inside to the tops. These had the cities built from the inside outwards. But despite attempts at finding any cave entrances, it seemed that either they were buried with absolute successful purpose, or they never existed at all.

The other reason the peaks were inaccessible was that countless years ago, the mountains had been declared sacred, so that to climb the summits was declared a blasphemy, as only the Divines should stand so high on the world; and to even discuss them was deemed heretical.

Those that pointed out to the priests that this edict was passed in Cloudrest, which was in all ways, higher than the mountains they were declaring sacred, soon wished they hadn’t.

So down through the ages, the peaks’ cities had stood silent vigil over the lands of the Summerset Isles.

Quiet.

Alone.

Empty.

Almost.



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Nol gazed detachedly as they passed yet another burnt out farm. The crops were spoiling in the fields and yet, behind a high wooden fence, starving cattle could be seen, watching them with sad, almost lifeless eyes; their tails hanging limp; Dying for want of an open gate. Their heads turned to follow the coach as it passed along the road.

Suddenly, Nol felt a great burning inside him too. The Thalmor had ruined his country. Tcheet had taken the land from the people, or at least, the people from the land. There was no logic to this - surely even the Thalmor needed feeding? To burn out farms and drive people off the land seemed counter-productive. What was the point?

A great rage took him and he banged on the underside of the coach’s roof.

Both Jeck and Siar looked surprised at him, but he never noticed, he was staring, with a look of simmering anger on his face, back at the cattle, penned up, dying.

The carriage stopped and the Justicar tasked with their delivering, appeared at the door.

“I need a comfort break, very quickly.” Nol announced through the closed window with great gusto and with grand gesture.

The Justicar winced and announced, “We’ve not long-”

“I’m old, deal with it. Your boss wanted us to be treated with every courtesy. Now, please?”

The young Justicar caught between conflicting ideas, shrugged and opened the door.

Nol climbed down, winked at the Justicar and vanished, dragging a breeze past the shocked look on the youngster’s face.

Nol hadn’t actually vanished, not in the sense that Koyree could, he’d simply pushed his speed fortify to the highest he was able - these days - and run to cows’ pen. He stopped at the gate with a wince and an “Aack!” With a hand to his back, he then opened the gate, went inside and walked up to the first of the cows. The sadness in the black and white faces evident, even to Nol.

“Fleet Admiral Nol Areldur, hero to the Navy, saving the Isles, one cow at a time...Go on girl!” He smacked the rump of the cow. She turned a sad, almost reproachful look on Nol and walked slowly towards the gate. Putting her nose outside the line of the gate and looking around to see if anyone was watching, she jumped over the invisible line where the gate would have been, and turned around. She swished her tail, shook her head and offered up a soft, two tone moo. Immediately, the others walked slowly towards the first cow, who mooed again. They reached the gateway and stopped. The first cow bellowed loudly and ran off. The others’ heads shot up, they pointed their ears forward and having come to some sort of decision, jumped the invisible line and ran off up the fields.

Nol smiled and nodded, feeling some sort of small victory.

He breathed in deeply, although he then wished that he had – perhaps – chosen a somewhat better place to breathe his last air of freedom. He saw in the distance, the lighthouse on the coast, near to his home town.

He smiled.

And still smiling, he turned to receive the punch that was coming from the newly arrived Justicar.



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When Tiber Septim conquered The Summerset Isles, he did so – out of necessity – in three phases. First, he took the outer-lying islands; second he took the two corners – Dusk side of the Tarsuschii mountains and Sunhold side of the Tarulsishuk range. Dusk welcomed him and his troops with open arms, the western corner objected, at least for a short time. And a seemingly overzealous amount of forts were built on the peninsula.

The third phase came down from the north, it was here that Septim used his Numidium Golem - The giant Dwemer technological, marvellous horror that was the gigantic walking machine-man. It swept away all resistance in front, from north-west to south-east, across the main island, followed in by a seemingly unending supply of soldiery to simply sit on the population until they came to accept Septim as their Emperor, thinking – as most Altmer do – that whatever happened, they were likely to outlive the Imperials, and then everyone could get back to normal.

However, soon enough, the way of the Empire became normal, and almost everyone was happy with that. Almost everyone. Slowly, over the centuries, old resentments resurfaced. The young grew restless and talked of revolution. Old ideas dressed up as new came to the lips of those on the edges of society. And so, before a man, young in the days of Septim could become truly old, along came the Thalmor and conquered the Summerset Isles from within.

Sadly, this time the population questioned whether they would live to see the next day, let alone outlive the Thalmor.

All they could do was pray to the Nine Divines.

Well, the eight.

And as for Septim, they quietly prayed that out there, in the rest of the world where – at the moment at least – he was still in the Pantheon, Talos would hear their silent, un-be-totem’d prayers and send some help.

Soon.

Please?



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Nol sat and wondered when exactly he’d gotten so old. He’d never been a huge magic user, not in the grandiose conjuring illusions or fireballs-from-the-hands type of way. His was more Restoration than any other type. Quietly healing or stamina boosts and the like.

So it was a great surprise, that when the six hundred year old (give or take a few years) Fleet Admiral was clapped in Nul-Iron manacles, he felt all the ravages that he’d put himself through in his long and mostly fun life. The Nul-Iron’s magic suppression cut out all the small ways that he hadn’t been conscious of keeping himself going. One eye went blurred, the other saw ghosting of the image. His breathing grew slightly painful. The majority of his joints seemed to ache.

Dear Gods! he thought, This is ridiculous. How in kriffing hells am I going to get us out of it, this time?

Six hundred years was barely middle age to an Altmer. Had Nol’s life really been so full so far, that had he been without magic, Fleet Admiral would have been just a memory or worse, a dream unfulfilled?

He sighed, completely failed to catch the eyes of Siar and Jeck, and went back to looking out of the window.

Well, as best as he could.



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So it was that Nol Areldur, Siar Eremnor and Jeck Harramaund came to Alinor, capitol city of The Summerset Isles.

Alinor – a dark city of black rock. Crennellated walls surrounded a gothic city of imposing civic buildings and towers, mansions on one side of the city and tenement-like hovels on the other, and in between, all the services, vendors and countless other trappings that every city needs to thrive. The sea broke on an imposing pile of rocks at the foot of one giant wall. Said wall also made it possible to forget that it was a sea-side city, especially when the wind was in the right direction. A manmade harbour had been created nearby to the south of the city, to receive supplies directly, so as to not disturb the ebb and flow of commerce within the walls. Even when – it has to be said – said city was in the grip of mad tyrannical rule

In the middle of the great and dark heart of the Thalmor Empire – and what the city’s great main roads led towards – was The Crystal Tower, an impossibly old structure, whose true purpose was unclear. Simply that for now, it was the building in which was the seat of Government. Built unknowable years before the city, and yet of the same rock as the city. However the Tower had then been encased in some form of crystal, with openings left for the doors and windows. It was an impossible piece of workmanship. No joins could be discerned in the crystal, no flaws, no mistake. Simply one, giant crystal layer over the rock.

It was towards this structure that the carriage now headed. A giant, looming over them as they rolled ever closer, just as The White-Gold Tower had dominated Imperial City before their destruction, ten years earlier.

The carriage drove down a boulevard – one of several around the tower – that began just as the buildings stopped. An avenue of tall trees with canopies full of light green leaves, that rustled and turned even in the slight breeze there was. This close to the Tower there were nothing else, the land given over to grass and flowers between the roads.

As it was possibly planned, the carriage passed by one of the two large ornamental ponds that lay on opposite sides of the Tower. Given the Thalmor’s viciousness, it was likely that this was the actual one that had “claimed” Miitr Farrada.

If it could be viewed from above, the Crystal Tower sat at the centre of a wheel, with the boulevards as spokes, leading out to the ring of buildings which sat like some giant rim denoting the circle. Halfway out from the Tower sat another ring, this one of paving stones. Standing on this ring, on either side of the road they were headed down, stood two immense statues. No immediate obviousness to their construction material, but rendered on a terrifying scale were the two architects of the Thalmor resurgence; the dominators of the Aldmeri Dominion.

On the left as they passed, was the Altmer priest known only as Oostermann, his left hand clutching The Book of Arkay to his be-robed self, while his right arm was stretched out in front, hand up, palm outwards, with two fingers up in benediction; And on the right was Overlord Ofwysyn Tcheet, former General, stood armoured in the finest way, his sword arm straight out, sword pointing along the road towards all that headed this way.

One statue saying, “Receive this, for we bless all our allies”; and the other saying, “Beware! our enemies, for we are always watching, and you are doomed to fail.”

As they drew up to the building, more of the Justicars could be seen with their guard escorts, and on the roads that ran away from the Tower, carriages like the one the trio were in could be seen either leaving or arriving.

Haunted, terrified eyes could be seen staring out through the windows of those arriving.



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The carriage pulled up at one of the entrances and a guard, having opened the door, motioned for the three to get out. Siar made to get up first, so as to help Nol out, but the Justicar put his hand up and said with a sneer, “No, I’m sure the hero would like to do it all himself.” and then stepped back.

Nol sighed, gripped the door, and then slowly and painfully lowered himself down, his knees protesting.

The guards laughed.

Nol sighed.

They were led through the massive entrance doors, the outside of which was carved with intricate whirls and flowers and as many patterns as the carver had in his repertoire. On passing through the doorway, their eyes were immediately drawn to an ornately patterned carpet covered, broad stairway that wound leisurely upwards, part-circling around the inside of the outer wall, towards the next level of the Tower. Then they noticed that there were also dozens of official looking people milling about the lobby, or walking up and down the stairway, talking to aides, or half reading official looking documents.

Justicars passed here and there, some in pairs, some alone. Some holding a prisoner between them, bound for large dark doors in a couple of the corners of the room.

Eremnor whistled, “This really is quite the place you’ve stolen,” he mock-coughed, “I mean, legitimately acquired as the rightfully elected government.”

The Justicar frowned.

Harramaund added, “So is there a torture chamber on every floor?”

The Thalmor agent took a step towards the Naval officers.

Nol was looking with one eye closed towards the stairs, “You’re really going to make me walk up this damned thing, aren’t you?”

“Don’t worry,” said the Justicar, smiling at Nol, “We’re not going right to the top.”

And so it was, with considerable agony to Nol that he, Siar and Jeck found themselves before a pair of giant, ornate, gilded doors. A pair of guards in full masked, elven armour stood in front of the doors holding long battle-spears. At the approach of the party, they stepped to each side, and banged on the doors.

The giant doors, decorated with gilded patterns swung open soundlessly, revealing the interior of the room.

The effect was lost on Nol, really, who couldn’t see anything without squinting anymore.

The trio and their attendant guardary walked into the room.



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This post has been edited by McBadgere: Apr 27 2012, 07:30 PM

[jack cloudy]

Still reading on but it's getting rather late so I think I'll stop for the night. I'm now at the part where the gods have their little get-together on the catamaran.

So, what should I say? You've given your story of what happened to the Dwemer and the whole ship cursed to sail the seas forever ala flying dutchman is a nice touch. I also like how friendly the gods are with each other. Seriously, they're doing important stuff but whenever they meet it's more like old friends hanging out and chilling than saving the world.

Oh, and there were some quality bits of humour. Such as Tiber complaining about how their solution to problems is to make more immortals. Loved that line.

[Acadian]

What an immersive carriage ride to Alinor!

‘Siar looked at Areldur, and said, “She’ll be fine. She’s too much like you to need worrying about.”
Nol raised his eyebrows and looked exaggeratedly about the carriage with his eyes.
Eremnor laughed once and replied, “Point taken. She’ll be fine, Nol.” and he gripped Areldur’s forearm.’
This was brilliantly put and I could picture it perfectly!

I enjoyed the reasoning that wanting to reach higher into the heavens may have motivated those three exceptional races to build cities atop the mountains.

“Fleet Admiral Nol Areldur, hero to the Navy, saving the Isles, one cow at a time...Go on girl!”
I loved this whole scene – Nol’s observations and fury, his speedy spell and taking a punch for his altruism. Masterfully done!

Nice job revealing how being manacled by Nul-Iron removed Nol’s numerous restorative coping magicks and he had to deal with the effects of his years.

And *gulp* they’ve arrived!

[Colonel Mustard]

Y'know that I said that I've thought that this has been pretty damn good so far? Well, I'm not quite sure what you've done, but you seem to have stepped it up a level in the last part, so keep doing it.

So down through the ages, the peaks’ cities had stood silent vigil over the lands of the Summerset Isles.

Quiet.

Alone.

Empty.

Almost.

This was a very nice little interlude, and may have helped, I think.

[Athynae]

ooo aahh, the descriptions were incredible. Double on the quote that the Colonel quoted, I absolutely loved that!!!

The entire scene with the cows was a lovely touch, even as he turned to receive the punch...I sure hope he gets the chance to punch back....yes I do.

Excellent no surprise, I am looking forward to more...

[jack cloudy]

The Thalmor are gentler than I expected. Fully furnished wagons with suspension and all the other luxuries of home? And here I was expecting them to be dumped in a cage drawn by whipped slaves, given only the bare essentials needed to keep them alive till the end of the trip.

But of course, the moment they got an excuse they jumped on it. And it figures that the Thalmor pick the biggest building in town as their own. Hell, they probably attacked Cyrodiil to make sure no one else had a phallic symbol of overcompensation as big as theirs.

[Grits]

Nol and the cows has really stuck with me. Especially when he saw the lighthouse in the distance. That was a beautiful moment among the cow pies.

The description of Alinor was a delight to read. I felt for Nol with all of those stairs.

I love this story. I have been looking forward all weekend to reading it!

[Darkness Eternal]

And I finally got wifi back, well, some of it. Until I return to my house...I still got to find the neighbor wifi security key hacking program.

I don't care how nice they seem to act, the Thalmor will be forever scum to me . The quote Acadian provided also made me chuckle.

Edited: Woah, wrong I just quoted the wrong story there. Will re-edit soon.

This post has been edited by Darkness Eternal: Apr 30 2012, 02:42 PM

[mALX]

I am still getting caught up, but had to say this - the chapter on Koyree was absolutely totally AWESOME !!! That was riveting from start to finish, so well done and gave so much background into Koyree that it felt like I knew her by the end of the read - loved that chapter !!! Awesome Write !!

[mALX]

Loved this next chapter where the gods are deciding whether to intervene on her behalf - you have a knack for bringing the gods alive in your story! WOO HOO! She has been rescued!

Caught up!

One of the things I particularly love about your story is how the gods dabble and play in the lives of the mortals below, like moving chess pieces around in a game to entertain or suit their strategies - Love that ! I agree, and have tried to incorportate it into my own story all along - but clearly without your knack for it!

Awesome Write!

[McBadgere]

Detailed Thank Yous later, I promise. But for now, thank you all very much, I appreciate it...

I need to get this part out before I decide to bin it because it keeps beating me up... ...



Where we are...Nol and co have been captured by the Thalmor and taken to The Crystal Tower in Alinor to meet the leaders of the Aldmeri Dominion...







1.13 – Empire (pt. 6 – Know Thine Enemy – iv)








Ten years ago. The Crystal Tower, Alinor.







The young Justicar led the way through the opened doorway. A runway of patterned carpet headed straight - in defiance of both walls, which were curved - toward a dais at the far end of the room.

The naval trio, flanked by more Thalmor, walked towards the be-throned dictator. Harramaund and Eremnor looked about themselves with a granted measure of impress.

There were two large windows in the room, and the sunlight streaming in through them, illuminated the smoke from the myriad candles in the room, causing the light to appear almost like some sort of Divine signal. Some of the candles were scented - spices and oils assaulted the senses. Sadly not all of them mixed well, it was as if the occupier of the room had said “I want scented candles! The more the better! Taste be damned!” Everywhere the men looked, there seemed to be an ornate candle stand dripping with wax like some sort of nightmarish cliché.

As they walked closer to the throne, Siar noticed that there were column-esque plinths, spaced out at regular intervals along the walls, atop which were treasures. Crowns, jewel encrusted gold skulls, ornately bound books, treasures looted from who knows where, all displayed here. Candle-smoke residue slowly taking the glory from the glorious.

The inner wall had - between the jutting out columns of the stone supports – been plastered, and on each of these, a devotional mural of some sort had been painted. Giant depictions of what appeared to be the same trio of Divines – two male and one female – doing great deeds for the Altmer people while the other Divines were looking elsewhere, well, the other five at least.

As they passed the third such mural, Siar noticed a ghostly figure in the top corner of one, reaching his hand out. He frowned at it and then looked back at the one they’d just passed. He could just make out the same ghost at the top. Still frowning, he looked to the next one along - there it was again. Assuming it wasn’t going to be Talos, Eremnor wondered his chances of being able to find out who it actually was, figured it unlikely, and just filed the thought away as they came to the throne.

From their approach, the mural at the back was a marvel in planning. The three Divines were depicted to be around the throne, speaking to the person occupying it, with a great many other things going on around the mural; The other Divines looking away, as before, the ghost in the bright blue sky, the mountains with the pyramids atop them, farmers in the fields - so much, and sat perfectly between the trio of Gods, was Ofwysyn Tcheet.



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Nol, through the entire walk, had simply stared at the back of the Justicar’s hood, concentrating on not having his right knee collapse from under him.

The party stopped. Nol’s knee finally gave way and he staggered forward. He had to put his hand on the Justicar in front to aid his balance, but the youngster spun around and Nol hit the floor, with his hands in front to catch himself. Siar and Harramaund rushed to pick him up, which got them a shock from the guards behind. Harramaund dropped, but Eremnor just turned and stared at his guard.

“STOP!” bellowed Tcheet, “What in Arkay’s name is going on here?”

“Sir!” saluted the young Justicar, “These are Fleet Admirals Nol Areldur and Jeck Harramaund, and Commodore Siar Eremnor. They were captured sneaking into Dusk.”

“Yes, I know, I was told they would be. I sent Ondolemar there to pick them up. So why is he,” Tcheet said, pointing to Nol, “on the floor then?”

“’Cause I’ve got a cr@pped up knee, your worshipfulness. And this child made me walk all the way up here.” Nol winced while trying to get himself up.

This got a half-grin from Tcheet, “Areldur I suppose?”

Nol nodded.

“Not as impressive as I was led to believe.”

Nol stood, favouring his left leg, and held his wrists up for Tcheet to see the Nul-Iron manacles. “Get these off, then we’ll see if your opinion changes.”

Tcheet’s face was like thunder. “That man is practically a legend,” he looked Nol in the eye as he leaned forward on his throne, “as in, an antique, so to speak.” Then he raised his voice at the young Justicar, “So why the hells would you put him in Nul-Irons?”

“My Lord! He tried to escape!”

Nol laughed once and shook his head.

“My dear Rikanstinar, I do quite believe that if you were stupid enough to put him in a position where those were in any way justified, then had the Fleet Admiral actually tried to escape, you wouldn’t be here now.”

Nol stared Tcheet straight in the eye, and smiled subtly.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” Tcheet asked the Justicar, “Get the damned things off!”

“Sir! Yes sir!”

The young Justicar fumbled for his keys and unlocked the manacles.

Nol was suddenly flooded with magic. Colours and aurorae swirled around him as his mind automatically healed, restored and re-augmented everything.

His eyes widened as he realised that Tcheet was suddenly standing right behind the Justicar and took a hasty step backwards to avoid gore, as a dagger was plunged from behind, upwards from the base of the youngster’s skull and out through his forehead.

The youngster jerked and dropped. Tcheet turned on his heel and walked slowly up the stairs of the dais, back towards his throne. “Let that be a lesson to you.” His retreating form said.

“I don’t think he’s going to be able to really appreciate that lesson, Your Governor-ness.” Said Jeck.

“That’s because you’re assuming for whom the lesson was.” Said Tcheet, as he sat down and looked, head tilted slightly, at Nol.

Nol looked down with a wince at the youngster and sighed.

“You two,” Tcheet pointed to some guards, “get rid of that.” He indicated the body.

The pair looked at each other and then quickly and silently decided that doing what they’re asked, and getting out of the room may be the more life prolonging option.

As the guards departed, Jeck came and stood next to Nol.

“What have you done to our families?” asked Siar.

“To?” asked Tcheet, with confusion on his face, “I haven’t done anything to your families. And I resent the accusation, my dearest Eremnor.”

“Well, I’m sure a big boy like you will get over it. So where are they then?” asked Jeck.

“All in good time, Good Harramaund. All in good time.” He paused. “I’m not sure what our dear departed Miitr was doing, sending you away for so long. I did send some ships to find you and ask you to return, but we’ve heard nothing since, and you are only back now, when your missions were at an end. You didn’t see any ships following you or anything?”

Nol pursed his lips and shook his head with an “I have no idea” look on his face.

“Riiight.” said the Overlord. He shrugged his wide shoulders, “It matters no more. You’re here now. Would you like a drink by the way?” He clapped his hands and a woman appeared, silhouetted in a door to their left, “Bring some drinks would you, my sweet.” Tcheet turned his head back to Nol as he said this and smirked. “How about you Oostermann? Want some of your yak’s milk bringing?” He said turning to his left.

That was when the trio noticed and unlit alcove in the rear right corner of the room, unlit except for two candles, either side of a simple shrine. Atop the shrine was the symbol of Arkay; that much was obvious, even in the shadow.

A man was on his knees, hunched over in prayer. His long grey hair trailed down his back over voluminous blue robes. Finishing his prayer, he looked up at the ceiling of the room. Grabbing a large staff that was leaning nearby, he used it to help him stand.

A tall man, rumoured to be younger than even Eremnor’s three and a bit centuries; however injury and a life of self imposed hardship, ageing the man until he seemed as one headed to elderly, well before his time. As he limped into the light, the trio saw that he had a large burn scar, which covered the left side of his face. Starting above his hairline, covering where his eye should have been and down his cheek, past, and then on down the side of his neck, shiny scar-tissue reflected the candles and sunlight at odd angles, so he looked truly sinister. His long hair and the fact that he had a neatly trimmed beard covering the rest of his chin, made the scar show up more somehow. The one piercing, intelligent blue eye shone out like a welkynd stone, taking in Nol, Siar and Jeck, deciding whether they were worth the effort of contempt even.

“No, you preening pr!ck, I’ll have whatever you boys are having.” Said Oostermann venomously, the perpetual downturned mouth suggesting this was a permanent fixture in his speech.

Tcheet smiled and gestured to the woman in the doorway.

Nol frowned as he thought he caught sight of...No, just a trick of the light.

“So, while we wait for the waitress,” started Jeck, “tell us about these lovely paintings. Who are the three then? I’m assuming one’s Arkay, of course, but the other two?”

Oostermann looked like he was seething. He was squeezing his walking staff with both hands and breathing deeply. Making a decision, he quickly descended the stairs and came to Jeck, he then jabbed him in the chest with a finger. “You ignorant little $hit. How can you call yourself a Thalmor if you have to ask that?”

“But we aren’t Thalmor.” Said Nol, turning to watch the priest. “We’re Altmer, as you were, as he was.” Nol pointed at Tcheet.

Oostermann swung an open fingered backhand at Nol which stopped sharply as Jeck grabbed the wrist. “Now now Oostie. Mind your temper.” He said.

The phrase ‘if looks would kill’ seems altogether too short to describe the look Oostermann gave Harramaund. More ‘If looks could whip, carve, remove skin, eyeballs, toenails, then hang, draw and quarter, heal and then repeat ad infinitum, then it will only just be beginning.’

An amused chuckle came from the throne. “Oostermann, leave them be. You’ll only rupture something. They’ve been away too long to yet be appreciative of the Thalmor philosophy. But they will come to it, don’t worry. They will learn.” He looked at the three.

“The figure above me,” he indicated above his head. “Is, indeed, the Divine Arkay.” Oostermann mumbled something and touched his heart and forehead. Tcheet made a face and shook his head. “This lovely vision here,” he held out his left hand, “Is the beautiful Dibella, consort of Arkay, Queen of the Divines.”

Nol raised an eyebrow. Wonder if anyone told Mara that?

“And this,” continued Tcheet, indicating his right, “is the ever-vigilant Stendarr, right-hand of Arkay, guardian of all that is right and true.”

“So what about the others? Not sure the others will be pleased about being replaced.” Asked Siar.

“The Others!” Oostermann spat, “The others all turned their backs on the Altmer Nation. Only the Great Arkay answered our prayers and graced us with His Divinity. He personally dictated his Book to me, so that I may spread His word as it was always meant to be heard.”

“Did he now?” Jeck and Nol shared a raised eyebrow look.

“So who’s that then?” Siar pointed to the ghost figure.

Oostermann followed the direction of his finger. “That, is The Great Wronged. The one who should be. If it were not for Akatosh’s Great Betrayal of His brother.”

“Great Betrayal? You mean that’s Lorkhan?”

Oostermann nodded with a dark frown, “Killed by Akatosh for daring to challenge his leadership.”

“I thought it wasn’t just Akatosh that was involved.”

“Well I heard the story from The Great Divine Arkay Himself. I think that is a more reliable version somehow.”

Nol found the logic sound, if not the mind.

“So Arkay’s installed himself as Chief Divine here then?”

“Arkay is now the highest authority here.”

“And so challenged Akatosh’s leadership.” Jeck shrugged and frowned, “And, how do the other two fit in? And is it true that you only dumped Talos because Tiber Septim defeated the original Aldmeri Dominion?”

Oostermann looked like he was grinding his teeth with rage.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen.” Tcheet held his hands up. “You will all be provided a copy of The Book of Arkay. I know that your time away means you haven’t been able to fully appreciate our philosophy.”

“Religion, fool.” Spat the priest.

“Ah yes, of course. The Talos mistake is all explained therein.” Tcheet looked to his right and saw that the woman was stood holding a tray. He smiled. “Ah! Our refreshment is here! If you would, my dear.” He gestured for the woman to come forward.

Nol stared as the woman came into the light. His heart slowly sank as he beheld the floor length figure hugging, low cut dress that left nothing to the imagination. The long black hair cascading over her shoulders; the feline, intelligent, mischievous brown eyes; the delicate nose; the ever present superior smirk that made him alternate between lust and rage on far too many an occasion.

Siar swore.

“Now, now Siar, take your drink like a good boy and shush.” She said.

“Jeck.” The woman said, as he took the drink from the tray with a shake of his head.

Every eye in the party took in the sway of her hips as she walked up the stairs towards the throne. She held out the tray to Oostermann, who took the drink and bowed his head briefly. The woman planted a lingering kiss on Tcheet’s lips and then handed him his drink.

She then turned, walked slowly to the edge of the dais holding Nol’s eye all the way. She then took the remaining glass of whiskey and leant forward, giving everyone a great view of her cleavage. And – of course – giving Tcheet an unrestricted view of her hind. “Here you go Nol. Come and get it.” she teased with a grin.

He walked forward. Holding her eye all the way.

Nol took the drink and raised his eyebrow. “Cestra darling, it has been too long.”



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This post has been edited by McBadgere: May 15 2012, 07:25 AM

[Acadian]

Quite the bloody reception, but at least the Nul-Iron manacles are off Nol now.

Tcheet and his high priest of Arkay are a pair of pieces of work. Loved the tapestries. Can’t wait to see what kind of tcheet the Thalmor have planned for our good guys.

’Nol found the logic sound, if not the mind.’
What a great line!

Well, at least the old trio got some whiskey and cleavage.

Wonderful job developing the new characters introduced here!

[mALX]

There were two large windows in the room, and the sunlight streaming in through them, illuminated the smoke from the myriad candles in the room, causing the light to appear almost like some sort of Divine signal.

This sentence was absolutely breathtaking - LOVED it !!! All of the descriptions in this chapter were in such exquisite detail that it felt like being there throughout the first half of the chapter! Awesome job !!

The dialogue following was great, you have such a subtle humor that always comes through so well in your dialogue, that is a real talent! Awesome Chapter !!

[Grits]

I love how the candle smoke and sunlight interacted to imply Divine approval, and the simultaneous display and disregard of the treasures. Then the scuffle when they reached the carefully orchestrated throne setting was the perfect touch. Yikes! Tcheet is a richard.

the ever present superior smirk that made him alternate between lust and rage on far too many an occasion.

Oh, this is my new answer when the girlfriends ask how Mr. Grits gets away with outrageous things. “I’m torn between lust and rage.” Uncomfortably true!!

And wow, Cestra. Wow.

Love it, McB!

[Athynae]

Yep, yep, yep, another wonderful addition, I really wish you would stop mulling these things and over-thinking while you make us wait for the next bit...just sayin.

The descriptions were so precise I could see the place vividly and this little touch, to me anyway, was special

Candle-smoke residue slowly taking the glory from the glorious.

And now I get to throw it back at you:

When is the Tcheet gonna hit the....I would say fan but I think it would be more appropriate to say the ceiling or the tapestries???

This one I think deserves mention as well

“I don’t think he’s going to be able to really appreciate that lesson, Your Governor-ness.” Said Jeck.

I loved it.

[McBadgere]

Jack!!...Cheers for getting through all that, I'm glad you enjoyed it...The Thalmor...Appearences can be deceiving...Cheers though...

Acadian...Many many thanks...Glad the carriage ride was cool for you...I had a brilliant time making all that up... ...Ah, the cows...A true moment of there and then inspiration from the character, as opposed to the "planning" that I spend ages doing... ...

And thanks for the vote on the new additions...And there's little better than whiskey and cleavage... ...

Mustard...My many thankses...I am ever grateful for yer kind words...

Athynae...As you saw, he got slightly more than a punch in the end... ...Thanks for the kindness about the latest one...I mull...It's what I do...I don't do dark easily...And I'm hoping to not ar$e this up...So...It takes a bit for me...But I think I'm okay for a couple of chapters now at least... ...As for the Tcheet hitting the fan...Ummm...Soon...And nicely too...It'll be worth the wait... ...Probably anyways...

Grits!!...Hope it was worth the wait in the end...Glad you also loved the carriage ride...Also thank you for the kindness about the room's description and Cestra...Yes, I quite enjoyed...Envisioning her... ...(Lucy Lawless in Spartacus btw)...Cheers muchly!!...

Darkness Eternal...The Thalmor are scum...They really are...Appearances and all that...Thanks for reading!!...Cheers...

mALX!!...Cheers for taking the time to catch up...Many many thanks, I hope it was worth your time... ...And thanks for appreciating the humour...I try...Or is that I'm trying?... ...

I do love my versions of the Divines...There's a bit more coming up from some of them...Just so you know...

Thank you all so very much...I appreciate it...



---------------------------



Sorry these updates took so long, but like I said, dark don't come easy, and I need to be sure that I'm not lessening the already barely-able-to-be-called quality that it has been so far, by ar$ing the baddie up...So, like a true grown-up, I tried to avoid it as long as possible...Lol...I'm about to put Nol through the ringer a bit...Sorry old bean...

Aaaamywho...

On to Part 2 of the audience...

Reminder time, Empire is set in 3E 604, and this is ten years before that...So there...

Oooh, and also, there's something towards the end...Just remember that you have actually already read what actually happened, right?...*points*...Just warning you...

Onwards....







1.12 Empire (pt .7 – Know Thine Enemy – v )








The Throne Room. Crystal Tower, Alinor. 10 Years Earlier.









“You’re aiming a little out of your league aren’t you?” asked Nol.

Cestra looked questioningly at the Fleet Admiral, “Most powerful man in the world? Slowly carving himself an Empire to rival any that went before? Young, beautiful, clever, dashing, virile...Thrusting.” she raised an eyebrow and smirked.

Nol winced and laughed once, “I wasn’t talking to you.”

The smirk disappeared from Cestra’s face briefly, which made Nol’s heart ache, So obvious to me, even when you’re trying to hide from everything.

Areldur watched as Tcheet stood and walked to Cestra, grabbed her from behind and pulled her to him; she sighed and purred, all the time never taking her eyes off her ex-husband.

Nol, who had backed away as soon as Tcheet had gotten off his throne, had to admit Tcheet was a very imposing figure. Long flowing dark hair past his shoulders. A good head taller than anyone here, very muscular with it. Sculptors must love him. Perfection personified. Makes me sick. He thought.



-----------------------------------------------------------------



“Cestra came to me with a proposition that I would have been a fool to ignore, - and believe me Fleet Admiral, I’m no fool, - and it has been...very good for us since.” said Tcheet.

“Which us? The way that people sometimes say ‘us’ meaning themselves, or genuinely the ‘two of us’.”

“Us meaning the whole of the Aldmeri Dominion.”

“How so?”

“The Mages Guild yet still exists; The University is not yet rubble. This is good for all the Thalmor and Bosmer mages out there, and the youngsters coming through and needing...Ahem...A firm hand in guidance.” Tcheet kissed the top of Cestra’s head and released her.

Nol noticed the flicker of disgust on Cestra’s face, Oooh, so that’s your game. Be careful sweetie, this is too dangerous for games this time.

Tcheet slowly walked down the stairs. A smile slowly growing as he did so. “But enough pleasantries I’m afraid.”

Nol looked down at the stain left by the unfortunate Justicar Rikanstinar, “Yes, very pleasant.”

“Oh, trust me Fleet Admiral, I could have made this a whole lot worse.” Tcheet paused briefly and then, “When we first came to power, it did occur to me that our...Ah...Reforms could be somewhat unpopular for a time, and that perhaps the reprisals would be visited on those more vulnerable, rather than those carrying out the...Change...The families of our devoted servants.” The Overlord looked each of them in the eye. “I have built several villa complexes, out in the North of the Isles, each capable of housing thousands of families, in excellent luxury. All the time protected from harm by stout walls and ever vigilant soldiers.”

“Dear Gods,” said Jeck, “You’re holding our families prisoner so that we’ll do what you want!”

“Nonesense, my dear Harramaund.” Said Tcheet, “That sounds so crass, I am merely rewarding your families for the excellent service my dutiful soldiery is performing for me.”

“Why you-”

“JECK! Shut the frak up.” Nol stared at Tcheet, breathing deeply, trying to get control.

Tcheet came to stand directly in front of Nol.

“What if we were to decide that our families were better off with us, out here? That they could look after themselves?”

“All I can say to that is – it’s a very dangerous road down from there, you’d have to be very sure if you decide to set one foot on that particular path. I cannot guarantee freedom from reprisals if you do.”

Nol stared hard into Tcheet’s eyes for some moments and then lowered his.

“Nol?!” asked Jeck with incredulity in his voice. “Screw this!” he said. Harramaund threw the now empty glass at Tcheet and launched himself with intent. Nol quickly stepped to one side and looked away as Tcheet simply raised one hand and fired a shock spell into Harramaund’s chest. Jeck flew backwards into a couple of Thalmor, and they all landed in a heap a short way down the carpet. Smoke could be seen rising from his clothes.

The room was silent for a few heartbeats, apart, that is, for a quiet chuckle emanating from Oostermann.

Nol looked around with a tear in his eye, expecting the worst.

“Is he alive?” Tcheet asked the slowly extricating guards.

One, reached down and felt for a pulse, then nodded.

“Pity.” Replied Tcheet with a sigh. “No matter. Take him to one of the cells, I’ll deal with him later. Say your goodbyes to your friends Areldur. It’s going to be a while before you see them,” His eyes followed the unconscious form of Harramaund out of the room, “if ever.” His nose wrinkled in disgust. His head snapped sharply around to stare at Siar. “You have anything to add?”

Siar’s hands were opening and closing, as if weighing up the chances, desperate to avenge his friend. He was breathing deeply with rage. Eremnor looked to Nol, whose own look begged restraint. Finally, he looked away.

“Good choice.” Tcheet walked to the stairs of his dais.

“So what is it you want us to do then?” asked Nol. A hard diamond of hate had formed in his heart. Before, Nol had hated Tcheet generally for what he’d done to his country, now it was personal hatred, the more dangerous kind...To them both.

Tcheet stopped his ascent and turned slowly. “And still your legendary defiance Areldur.” The Overlord shook his head.

“Yeah well, I strive for consistency your Overlord$hit...I mean, ship.”

Tcheet snorted, pondered a moment and then shrugged, “As I said before, I’m no fool, as much fun as it would be to send you three out as Justicars and see you flounder about...Something more suited to your Colonel Rae Treort actually. Where is he by the way?”

“Not here, luckily for you.” Replied Nol.

Tcheet laughed and shook his head. “You really have no idea do you?” He turned and walked up to his throne, completely ignoring Cestra, who then looked down confusedly to Nol.

“Your talents are actually going to be made useful, and you’re going to work damned hard at whatever you’re given. Aren’t you?”

Nol chewed the inside of his cheek, then finally, “Yes.”

Siar just nodded.

“Yes what?”

“Yes...Overlord.”

Tcheet smirked.



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Nol suddenly noticed a dark haired Bosmer stood a respectful distance from the throne, but obviously needing an audience.

Where the hell did he come from? Thought Nol.

Tcheet obviously thought the same thing, and surprise briefly registered in his face as he noticed the Bosmer. Recognising the elf, he beckoned him over.

The Bosmer talked quickly in hushed tones and Nol noticed Tcheet was looking at Cestra for most of it, and a couple of times, his eyes darted quickly down to the Fleet Admiral.

Finally, the Bosmer finished and bowed to the Overlord. He then turned and took in the room – Nol knew that look – and walked out.

Tcheet stood and walked forward to the edge of the raised platform.

“Well, proof if proof be needed. That was a message from Ondolemar,” he started.

At the mention of the name, Nol bristled.

Tcheet continued, “he informs me that your daughter Koyree was caught and sadly, she...resisted, and had to be...” The Overlord looked as if he was searching for the right word, finally nodding to himself, “Destroyed.”

Behind him, Cestra let out a strangled cry and put a hand to her mouth. Her eyes found Nol’s, and breathing hard, she turned and started walking away.

“Where do you think you’re going?” asked Tcheet without turning around. “You have duties to attend to.”

“What?!” Cestra stared, eyes full of tears from Tcheet to Nol. “I-I...But...Oh you kriffing child. Get over yourself.”

Tcheet walked over to her and simply backhanded her hard across the face.

As he wasn’t expecting it, Nol’s speed and strength fortified punch as the Overlord turned back, actually had the effect that Areldur had desired, and Tcheet stumbled backwards.

Nol knelt by Cestra and held out his hand to help her up.

“Grief makes you do the stupidest things.” Said Tcheet, wiping his lip of blood. “That’s your free one Areldur. The next one had better count for more.” He pointed to Cestra, “You, get to our rooms.” He looked past Areldur. “Take these gentlemen to their rooms, I’ll deal with them presently.”

“Presumably after Harramaund? Wouldn’t want to jump the queue.” Said Nol, his cheeks showing signs of tears himself.

Tcheet shook his head. “You will kriffing learn Areldur, even if it takes every one of your family members to teach you. And it will happen if you carry on. Learn your place. Now.”



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[mALX]

Cestra obviously didn't know who she was dealing with, her game of power just got higher priced than she had thought to pay. Awesome Write !!

[Acadian]

Holy Tcheet! That guy is a real dastardly piece of work. A superbly done villain!

“So what is it you want us to do then?” asked Nol. A hard diamond of hate had formed in his heart.’
Beautiful passage this. I’m with you Nol. Restraint may be the better part of valor for the moment. . . Oops, not so fast:

‘Nol’s speed and strength fortified punch as the Overlord turned back, actually had the effect that Areldur had desired, and Tcheet stumbled backwards.’
*cheers and gulps at the same time*

Wow, this was all nicely done. At least Cestra still has some maternal instincts.

This post has been edited by Acadian: May 18 2012, 12:50 AM