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

[McBadgere]

Jack!!...Many thanks for the idea...It's pretty good, not right, but good...Answers will be there before the end, but I'll draw you to what I said towards the start of this, what seems like already an age earlier... ...

“Right gentlemen,” started the Oversaar, “we have a total clusterfus of a situation, and it stinks worse than an Argonian garbage scow in the height of summer. Oostermann and his Thalmer finally got into power.”

There was a deep sighing from around the table.

“Except this time it’s Thalmor.”

“From One-elf to One-world?” asked Areldur.

“Didn’t he try this a hundred years ago?” Eremnor added.

“Yeah, but the Cyrodiilian supertrio of Ocato, Ormandin and McWylde – which sound like a sinister firm of solicitors – put their oars in, and he was dismissed as irrelevant.” Answered Harramaund.

“But now the damned idiot managed to get the army behind him. Something about communing with ‘the Divine Arkay’ to convince them to get behind the idea.”

The three younger High-Elves looked at Farrada with disbelief for a short while before Eremnor picked up his ale, drank a bit then asked, “Who?”

The older man smirked, raised his eyebrow and announced, “General Ofwysyn Tcheet.”

More groaning.

“Well, that makes some sense I suppose, if not a pleasant idea. He’s been on about being blessed by Arkay himself for years hasn’t he? This is what he says gives him and his ‘Elite troops’ their power.” Said Areldur.

Tcheet is kind of the same as the original Commander from earlier, Robert McWylde, and therefore the Altmer is an excercise in what happens if one that is called by a Divine decides to use his power...Differently...Also, what happens if you find out that your actions are being manipulated by the Divine you've pledged your life and soul to?...Coming soon...Um...Ish...


Mustard...Many thanks my friend...Glad the villain turned out better than I was worried it might have... ...

Grits...Thank you!!...More of the Bosmer this time... ...Sorry this bit is such a tall tale... ...Ahem...Yes...About that wringer I mentioned...

Athynae...In another bit of planning, there was the idea to have Cestra's story too...But I couldn't get sidetracked by that too, it's bad enough as it is!! ...Basically, she's been with Tcheet for a while in a kind of "Well, my guild is okay I shall bury my head in the sand to everything else." kind of way.

Thank you for the nudges I get now and then about my writing, I'm just always concious of exactly how good the other writers in this club I'm standing in are...

Acadian...Thank you m'friend!!...Like I said, glad the villain turned out okay in the end...And yes, I imagined Cestra to be one of those pushy parents who never really told Koyree how proud she was or how much she loved her...Always imagining there would be chance later...And now...*Shrug*...Like I said, an unwritten part of it all, but had to be worked out anyways...

mALX!!...Indeed...A very high price...More Cestra soon...You lucky peoples you... ...


Aaaamywho...


To continue...Empire, 3E 604, 10 years earlier...




1.12 Empire (pt. 8 - Know Thine Enemy – vi)







Alinor, 10 years earlier.







The trouble with hard diamonds of hate is that you can easily lose them, especially if your heart happens to be in a million pieces.

Because he hadn’t killed Ondolemar, and Koyree was dead.

Nol realised he was absolutely lost, somewhere between the dais and the door; possibly around the time he’d turned to Tcheet and dared him to tell them it was all a lie, a joke. Tcheet had simply answered, “I’ve got you where I want you, why lie to you now?”

Both Cestra, as she left and Siar, as he was taken away – he had even winked at Nol – had looked to him with such hope that he would pull some miracle out of thin air, there and then.

As the Thalmor guard had gripped his arm and led him firmly along the long carpet towards the door, he suddenly realised that he couldn’t think of anything, he tried to focus on his hate, always a help, focus on something, anything. But that was when he discovered that he couldn’t find any hate. Well, he couldn’t find his head; his heart.

His soul.

Torn into countless ribbons and blowing away with the tempest of realisation that –

Because he hadn’t killed Ondolemar, Koyree was dead.

As a father, the thing you do- you’re SUPPOSED to do, is put yourself in harm’s way for them. You take the hit, you protect them. You do not arrogantly assume that they can take care of themselves so you can be a hero again when you’re feeling old and irrelevant. What you do is, as soon as she disappears, you take as many of them out with you as fast as you can, but most importantly, what you do every single time, is kill Ondolemar. Because then, Koyree would be alive. Not dead.

But he hadn’t killed Ondolemar, and Koyree was dead.



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He was dimly aware that he was stood in the middle of a room, staring blankly at a painting. A beach, a cliff, the sea, she loved the sea, almost as much he did. Well, she did. And now she couldn’t. And it was all his fault.

He had meant to do something. He frowned and slowly looked down. Something about diamonds? Oh no, getting out. But what was there to get out to?

Ondolemar was out there wasn’t he? He could kill him. Yes! Kill Ondolemar!

“Bit bloody late now, pissing idiot.”

Nol turned his head and saw his reflection in a mirror.

“You should have done it when you had the chance, and now she’s dead.”

Well, you were no kriffing help. Why didn’t you do something?

“Oh no, I was having a grand old time playing hero thank you very much. See, everyone expects me to do something about it. And isn’t it always as much of a drug as any you’ve complained about Jeck taking?”

Nol noticed the mirror was on the floor in a thousand pieces.

Suddenly one shard was in his hand.

His eyes met his reflection’s...No, Farrada’s! Good old Farrada.

“You do that, and I will kick your ar$e from one end of eternity to the other, and that’s a bloody long time. And you know what that’ll do to my knee. Do you really want that on your conscience? Hmmm? Hmmm? I told you to wait like a good Altmer. Why didn’t you wait Nol?”

But how long was I supposed to wait?

“As long as it took!! What? You’re in a hurry? You’ve got half your life to wait.”

Something needed doing, he was going too far.

“Trust me on this, something is already being done. I saw it. It was all in there to see.”

Where?

“The throne room. I saw it, you saw it. All you had to do was wait a bit longer and none of this would have happened. But no, you and your friends had to go and try and prove you still had it. Really, the four of you against the Thalmor? You really thought you had a chance? You arrogant $hit. There are other people in the world you know?”

“You killed me.” Said Koyree, staring out from the shard.

Then there was blood on his fingers. Lots of blood.

He heard voices shouting with alarm.

Then his hands were covered in white fabric. Oh, bandage.



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A face appeared before Nol. He was supposed to hate him, wasn’t he? Yes, I hate you. It wasn’t Nol’s fault after all! It was this face’s. Well, Nol giggled, not the face as such. But he couldn’t find his hate. Well, he couldn’t find his heart. Oh yes, a million pieces and all that.

Because he hadn’t killed Ondolemar, and Koyree was dead.

The face spoke words, turned away, looked back with a frown. Another face joined it, spoke words. Nol raised his eyebrow. I know you.

The first face nodded and went away. Nol missed it already.

The second face smiled at him, so he smiled back. The face grew hands, he felt fingers at his temples. The face said, “Don’t worry Fleet Admiral, I know a thing or two about this sort of thing.”



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Nol woke in a brightly lit room. He tried to push himself up with his hands and winced. Areldur held his hands in front of his face and frowned. What the hells?

A nurse came to him, helped him sit up, and asked how he was feeling.

“There are several very important questions with words like where and how in them that I should be asking right now, however I will start with how long?”

“Two days. You were asleep for almost two days.”

“I remember the throne room, and then...Being somewhere else. Oh...” Koyree...

“No, Fleet Admiral!” the nurse shook him. “Here, take this water, focus on the water.”

He gripped the glass between his paw-like, bandaged hands.

“Water...Irony.”

“Shouldn’t be, we boil it.” Said the nurse.

“No, I mean...Oh...A joke, clever.” His eyelids started to close.

“Stay with me Fleet Admiral, focus. You!” she called a guard. “Either go yourself or send someone to get, Healer Maircaln and Aide Trellanwr. Maybe we need to inform the Overlord too.” She shrugged.

The guard hesitated.

The nurse rolled her eyes. “Just get Maircaln and Trellanwr. Fleet Admiral!” she slapped Nol’s face.

“Ow! Well your bedside manner leaves much to be desired.”

“Well, if you desire my in-bed manner.” And she took off her uniform and climbed into bed with him.

A ringing slap brought him around.

“Ow!” he said. “Well, your bedside manner leaves much to be desired.” He frowned and looked about confusedly.

“Focus on your water, drink some of it, talk to me or the walls; Hells, even the water, but for the Gods’ sake, don’t fall asleep again.”

“Cestra.” He said.

“Excuse me?”

“I need to see Cestra, do you know if she’s alright? Can you get a message to her?”

“Cestra?”

Nol frowned. “Tcheet’s...plaything.”

“Oh! Riiight, I don’t really get invited to those circles, if you know what I mean? But Aide Trellanwr might be able to help you.”

“Do you come here often?” He asked hopefully.

“Only when it’s quiet.” She said, and took off her uniform.

One slap later and Nol was handed a painting. “Tell me what you can see in it.” the nurse said.

“Heh.” Nol smiled.

The nurse angled her head to see the painting better, “Something funny I hadn’t noticed?”

“No, it’s just the lighthouse. The town where I come from has a lighthouse. Wonder if I’ll see it again?”

“So what else do you see?”

“Erm...An Ayelid ruin, with some unidentifiable oversized men in armour coming out of it, charging at a few glowing knights in white. I like the way they’ve done the sea, it’s very pretty...Wait a minute. You can’t see the whole town, but I know this. It’s Anvil isn’t it? And the ruin is Garlas Malatar. How the hells did you manage to keep this here?”

“Well, you’re very well informed.” Said a voice. “How so?”

“Ah,” said the nurse, “Aide Trellanwr, Admiral Areldur.”

“Fleet Adm-” Nol started to say and then looked properly at the aide, “You?!!” he spat.

The Bosmer looked back at him. “Me?”

“You’re the one who told Tcheet about...about...” Nol breathed hard.

“Yes, I had the misfortune of delivering the message, and for what it’s worth, I am truly sorry for your loss.” Said Aide Trellanwr, “Now where did you learn about the image in the painting?”

Nol stared hard at the Bosmer for a spell, then shrank somewhat, with some sort of internal defeat. Areldur then said, “I tend to be away at sea a lot, being a Fleet Admiral and all. I have a great many books. Some of them – although they will probably be burned by now – were about The Knights of The Nine. And although the books I have are varied as well as many, some of them get read more than once.” He shrugged, “The question is, how did you come to keep this? What with Tcheet’s pathological need to ignore the recent past and all.” he gestured with the painting.

“Well, one, I didn’t. It’s the Temple’s; two, when the previous occupiers were...Moved on, we simply took over the place, furnishings and all. And obviously we didn’t check the paintings thoroughly enough,” the Bosmer stared meaningfully at the nurse, “and three...” he took the painting from Nol and threw it hard against the opposite wall, where it crumpled.

Nol sighed and shook his head. He raised an eyebrow, “So, is Aide your title or is it short for something?”

Trellanwr looked at Nol and said, “Well, you seem to be feeling better, how many fingers am I holding up?”

“Well, that’s just rude. So what’s with these?” Nol held his hands up for inspection.

“Well, that’s a question for the Healer really, but come on Fleet Admiral, you’re an educated man. How much mess do you think you made of your hands for them to still be wrapped up that tightly, two days later?”

Nol looked at the bandaged things in his lap. “I don’t understand.” He said.

Just then, another new Altmer walked into the room.

“Ah Maircaln, the Fleet Admiral here was just asking about his hands.”

“The ones he’s lucky to still have?” Maircaln said. The woman came and sat on the bed, the opposite side to where Trellanwr stood. She took hold of Nol’s forearm with one hand and put the other on the top of his head, middle finger and thumb spread as wide as possible to get as close to his temples as possible.

The grey-haired Altmer leaned in and kissed him deeply.

One focus spell later and Nol was wide awake again, this time with little chance of falling asleep, adrenaline excited by magic.

“I shall have another potion added to prevent relapse from happening.” Maircaln nodded. “Right, your hands.” She paused, then, “I’m sure you’ve had occasion to notice these things, given your line of work, but the more severe the wound, the more complications self-healing or application of strong potions and salves will produce.”

Nol frowned, slowly catching up with understanding of the words, then nodded. “Flesh knits easily, but some of the other things take more time to mesh properly.”

The healer nodded and smiled, her silver-grey eyes twinkling, “That’s right, there is more to the body than just flesh and bone, these other things are always able to be repaired, but only if you take more time, else they don’t work properly.” Maircaln looked Nol in the eye. “The damage you did to your hands,” she shook her head, “you almost took your fingers off of one hand, somehow you almost sliced your other hand off, mid-palm. The amount of trauma these took, you are really lucky that we were able to save them at all.”

Nol stared shocked and sad at his hands.

“As strange as it may sound, we’ve had to suppress your natural magicks, so that you don’t go trying to heal yourself quicker-”

Nol frowned and started to point out he could see and about his knee and the other problems when he was without magic.

The healer nodded, “Yes, the biothaumicautopalliative response system, that’s being taken care of with potions and spells. All those extra problems, they all happened because you took potions, or healed yourself, or had someone do it for you. Then your body adapted to it. You were none the wiser until the magic wasn’t there. ”

Even Trellanwr was fascinated with this. “So how long until his hands will be, well, could be functional again?”

The Altmer looked over the bed at the dark haired Bosmer and shrugged, “The surface wounds should be closed even now, it’s been two days, we shall check presently; as for the rest, if the potions and salves work as they should, we could know in a few days, then these,” she indicated to bandages, “can come off permanently, as whatever can be done,” she shrugged, “will have been obvious by then.

“So for now, my word tops even that of our beloved Overlord. Do I make myself absolutely clear Aide Trellanwr? He is to be left to our care and undisturbed. You can have him, when I’m absolutely sure he’s done.”

“I could ask The Overlord whether that is, in fact, the case, Healer Maircaln.” The Bosmer frowned, but then shrugged and a more pleasant – friendly even – expression came to Trellanwr’s face, “But yes, the Fleet Admiral needs some time to recover from more than just the visible wounds. As much as I can promise these things, you’ll have the time.

“Lucky you Fleet Admiral, I shall be visiting to see how you’re progressing.” Trellanwr smiled almost warmly at Nol, “Though a word of advice my dear Healer, I can’t always predict Overlord Tcheet’s moods. One may take him to come and check up on the patient himself, and there will be nothing I can do to stop that. If anything should go wrong, or you’re delaying the release of the Fleet Admiral here...It would be best for you that that doesn’t happen, if you understand me?”



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Healer Maircaln dispatched the nurse – Marita, he seemed to remember – to fetch fresh supplies for the replacing of the Fleet Admiral’s dressings.

Trellanwr followed the conversation between the two Altmers for a while, but eventually he was only keeping half an ear on it as he looked out of the large windows to the day outside.

The sunshine of a few days ago had been replaced by summer storms. The latest batch had not long departed, and they were left with merely overcast skies, some lucky shafts of sun racing down to shine off the wet rooftops, just as quickly to be forced away by the next bullying cloud bank.

Presently the nurse returned with a second pushing a trolley full of medical accoutrements.

Not that he was particularly squeamish, but Trellanwr took the opportunity to leave at that point.

“Best leave you all to it,” he said, “however, I will need a few moments with nurse Marita here.”

The nurse turned pale and her eyes widened, then she looked to Maircaln and the new nurse. She sighed, dropped her eyes and followed the Bosmer out of the room.

They walked a short way down the corridor. Trellanwr turned the handle on a door and walked into the empty room. Marita followed him in and he closed the door behind her.



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“You couldn’t have handed him a better painting?”

“It was the only one in the room!”

“Why was it that that particular painting was the only one in the room? It should have been shifted years ago. How come it’s still about? That was way too dangerous Marita.”

Marita looked down, embarrassed, “It’s one of my favourites.”

Trellanwr sighed. “Yes, one of mine too.”

Marita looked close to crying, “I’m sorry,” she said, “I just wanted something to remind me of home, this is so hard.”

“I know.” Trellanwr walked to the door. “Be more damned careful in future.” He opened the door and stepped through it. Before he was out of sight he stopped and turned sideways to Marita. “I’ll see if I can find another one. But if you get caught with it, you’re on your own, I won’t be able to save you.” And walked off.



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This post has been edited by McBadgere: Jun 7 2012, 06:59 AM

[mALX]

Nol's reflections were heartbreaking in this chapter, very well done! Then Nol and the nurse had me in hysterics! Very intriguing bit about the painting !! Awesome Write !!

[Colonel Mustard]

For some reason Nol's random little bits of disjointed thought with the Nurse had me thinking of Catch-22. Goodness knows why, but it really did for some reason. Eh, that's probably just my brain being wierd.

[Acadian]

Nol’s self flagellation over Koyree was very touching and wonderfully carried the true spark of paternal reality.

Yes, broken mirrors can be dangerous. Snips of hallucinations with and about one’s nurse. Alice in Wonderland. Biothaumicautopalliative care. Nol didn’t understand exactly what was happening around him – and I was right there with him.

[Athynae]

Poor Nol...

This was a very well written chapter and the intrigue with the bosmer and the nurse...hhmm...but I am still stuck feeling a bit lost in the insanity that Nol is wrapped in...that was some good writing there, you really get the confusion and pain caused by such an intense emotional injury...GREAT JOB! Painful but awesome...

Ready for more...yes I am.

[Grits]

Both Cestra, as she left and Siar, as he was taken away – he had even winked at Nol – had looked to him with such hope that he would pull some miracle out of thin air, there and then.

In a very touching episode, I thought this was just heartbreaking.

I loved the healer-talk along with Nol’s lapses in and out of awareness. And then Trellanwr, hmm. This is the part where I go back and read the other parts together!

[Lady Saga]

Cool story, McB. Finally got around to starting this one. Took me a couple tries before it started to "catch", but that's okay.

Good thing it's slow at my job today. I get to read all these stories and whatnot.

[McBadgere]

Hallooo!!...I'm back... ...

After a period in which I harvested and did some other stuff; fought crippling lethargy; and made a definite decision to abandon writing altogether...

However the Story Fairy™ decided to grab me by the metaphoricals and lead me to the bubbling morass that it likes to call The Plot™ and pointed out all the work that it had already done in the planning and that it would make my life hell until I carried on with it all...So...Here is some more stuff...

Although, in order for me to find it fun again, there's going to be some stuff coming up that will be...Odd...So there...Self-indulgance-'r'-us...

For the previous stuff...

I thank you all for your kind comments...

mALX - Glad the nurse stuff came across as funny...It made me laugh too... ...Many thanks...

Mustard - Cheers matey...As for the Catch-22, I don't disagree with that at all...But that could be just me Ark[ay]in' about... ...Thanks mate...

Acadian - Sorry I lost you with yet another one...I was trying to get accross and emotional shock induced Fuge State with his ramblings, and drifting in and out of his coma thing...But thank you for realising the parental grief thing...Cheers for continued following m'friend...

Athynae - I seem to have confused you too... ...Sorry...But thank you soooo much for the compliments...

Grits - As ever, you always cheer me up with yer comments... ...Glad the emotional stuff came across well...And for realising how hard that actually was to do...*Hugs*...Cheers...More Trellanwr incoming...And cheers for repeatedly threatening to re-read it...I swear, if this was a book it would make a damned sight more sense I think... ...

Lady Saga - Welcome aboard...I hope I haven't caused you to jump ship already though...Many thanks for trying at least...

Anyone else who reads but doesn't comment...Many thanks!!!...





Reet...Nol is in the hospital after his bout of Fuge, after the revelation that his daughter Koyree has been killed...She hasn't, but that's what has been revealed to Tcheet anyways...

And Aide Trellanwr was introduced last time as an assisstant to Tcheet...Just so you know...


Empire is set in 3E 604 and this bit is currently 10 years earlier...(I'm counting back to the present, just in case you'd forgotten... )...








1.12 – Empire (pt. 9 – Know Thine Enemy – vii)








Alinor, Summerset Isles. 10 Years Earlier.







The lightning coloured the clouds of the nighttime storm an eerie pink, there was a pause in the torrent of rain against the glass, and then thunder shook the heavens and the rain redoubled its efforts.

Nol sat staring at the windows. More, not reading The Book of Arkay, than actually watching the storm.

It had been a few days since his “Incident” as the good Healer kept calling it, and his bandages were off. He was able to use his fingers, albeit painfully.

Currently, in the absence of anything decent to read, such as maybe, 1000 recipes for squid, he was using his still pained fingers to turn the pages of the religious propaganda that was The Book of Arkay. Although, he had to admit, Oostermann – if it was all his own work rather than a dictation as he suggested – was a better writer than Areldur could have credited him for. Nol could see how easily led people could get twisted up with this book.

As another blast of thunder hammered in the night, Nol blinked and rubbed his eyes. He put his hand to the luma-crystal next to the bed and held it there as the room’s light increased further.

Pushing down the blankets, Nol swung his legs over the side and stood. He then said to the seemingly empty room. “I’m going to the toilet. You can watch if you really want.” Not expecting a reply from the Shrouded guard he actually knew was in the room – Nol kept catching him falling asleep in the chair and becoming visible – he walked to the door that led to a small room in the corner.

Attending to the task at hand, he heard another peal of thunder and then a flash lit up the room from the slightly ajar door. Nol frowned, finished up and then washed his hands. Looking into the mirror, he saw a distinctly green glow coming from his room, and then another flash. He dried his hands and then pushed the door open slowly.

And there she was, stood over the somewhat smoking, prone guard. The One. The sight of her taking his breath away, as it had done every single time Nol had laid eyes on her; Even while doing something as mundane as coming back to bed after the bathroom in the night.

Cestra stood looking at him with hands opening and closing into fists, breathing deeply.

Thoughts of how, why and what the? were temporarily forgotten as they rushed to embrace, mouths finding each others’ in a desperate, feverish kiss that felt as if it was the first time all over again. Two hundred years gone in an eyeblink.

For an age they stayed together, Nol knew his body was responding to the moment, and he could hear the signs that he’d heard so often, that Cestra was feeling much the same; but then the Universe noticed and thunder rattled the windows; and the kiss that had felt like it’d lasted forever, ended, and Nol’s heart ached, because he knew...Deep down, he already knew.

There would never be another.



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They held each other close for a while as Cestra wept gently.

“My baby girl.” She sniffed. “I loved her so much and I never told her. All she ever saw was me criticising. Why did I never tell her like you did Nol?”

“Sssshhhh.” Nol said. He kissed the top of Cestra’s head and stroked her hair. “She knew. I promise she knew. I told her from you often enough. I always told her you loved her too.”

Cestra looked out at the rain and cried some more.

A few tears fell from Nol’s eyes in sympathy. “Is there any chance he is lying.”

Cestra shook her head. “Ofwysyn is the most honest and true man you will ever meet.” Nol noticed the use of Tcheet’s first name. There was a pause and then Cestra continued, “Possibly the most honest man I’ve ever met actually.” Nol heard the smile in her voice and his heart broke again as he realised she was teasing him, even here and now. “He doesn’t believe he’s evil Nol, he’s doing Arkay’s bidding and that means he can do absolutely anything he believes is right. Ofwysyn is absolutely genuine Nol. So no,” she sniffed and started shaking with sobs, “he’s not lying.”

Lightning and thunder happened almost at the same time and Nol winced at the flash.

“How did you wind up here Ces?” Nol asked.

She snorted, “Isn’t it obvious?”

“It’s that simple? The guild for...You?”

Cestra nodded and sobbed some more. “I’m sorry. I tried to ignore what was going on outside as best I could. My guild was safe. It was all I could keep telling myself...I’m so sorry, I could have done something so many times, I just didn’t know about after...You know.”

“Would his troops take his death out on the families and guild?”

She nodded.

“So he definitely has the families then?”

Cestra nodded again.

“We have no choice do we? We have to work with him. No matter what that means.” Nol sighed.

Cestra pulled away from the embrace and turned her beautiful brown eyes up to his. “I’m sure you’ll think of something eventually.” she said. Cestra pulled his head down to hers and kissed him on the lips again. Then she broke away, walked a few steps and turned around.

“Sadly, all I can think of is one thing.”

“And what’s that?” Nol asked.

Cestra raised an eyebrow and a sly grin spread along her mouth, contrasting with the tear moistened cheeks. “Revenge.”

Nol opened his mouth to protest and then everything went black.



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“Mother stop!” he shouted at the retreating figure. He gave chase, leaping the spaces between the rooftops with ease and landing almost soundlessly.

The flight took in half the city, headed directly to the giant walls surrounding it; only stopping when his mother had reached the highest point, where the walls climbed above the seaward rocks in the south-west corner.

He walked towards her, arm raised, the flechette launcher on his wrist primed. “Please mother, it doesn’t have to be this way. Just come with me, we can sort this out.”

She’d laughed sweetly and said. “He says pointing that at his own mother.” She shook her head, “I love you. With everything I am, I love you my beautiful boy...Always remember that at least. But there’s no coming back from this. You know that.”

By now his friends had arrived.

His mother looked at him and simply said – “Tell your father I loved him, always.” Then she sighed, “Maybe he’ll remember someday.”

“Mother don’t. Please come away-”

She smiled, winked and tipped backwards off the wall.



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“MOTHER!!!” Trellanwr shouted as he woke and sat up, breathing hard.

There was a quietly insistent knock at the door. “Mister Trellanwr? Are you okay?”

“Yes Mrs Bleddyn...I’m fine.” He sighed and tried to calm his heart.

“It’s just that I’ve been trying to wake you for a few minutes? and now there’s another chap downstairs for you?” Mrs Bleddyn – his landlady – had a habit of turning anything into a question.

“Another?” asked Trellanwr.

“Yes? That’s three now, they’re quite insistent?”

Trellanwr put his hands over his face and rubbed it to try and massage some life into it. “Five minutes or so, Mrs Bleddyn, then I shall be down.”

“Okay? I just hope that no more arrive for you, they’re wetting my carpets!?”

Trellanwr smiled, then stood and went to the window. He opened the parting of the curtains and saw that the rain was still as persistent as it had been when he’d woken in the night. “Balls.” He declared.



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“Gentlemen,” said Trellanwr as he walked into the reception room. He sipped from a mug of hot tea that Mrs Bleddyn had shoved into his hands as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “I trust you’re all about to make my day far too interesting.”

The trio all started talking at once, hoping with gesture and emphasis of voice to make their problem sound the most important of all. With the mug to his lips, Trellanwr held a hand up for silence and sighed through his nose.

Pausing his drinking, the Bosmer lowered the mug, “You.” he pointed to the Altmer on the right.

“The Overlord has urgent need of you, my Lord, Aide Trellanwr.”

Trellanwr snorted, “My Lord?” he smiled and shook his head. “And you?”

“There has been an incident in the Hospit-” The man blanched at Trellanwr’s raised eyebrow response to the slip of the tongue. “I mean...Um...Temple of the Healers just off Towershadow Road East.”

Trellanwr frowned, “East?” he repeated. The man nodded in reply, “What kind of incident?”

“Someone managed to get in and kill all the guards, and when I say all, no one knew there were so many in there in the first place. And the staff and patients seem to have all been paralysed for a time, so we really don’t know what they could have been there for.”

Trellanwr shook his head with the appearance of surprise. I know, he thought. What mischief do you bring to the party now, Fleet Admiral?

“And finally, you?” he inclined his head towards the third Altmer as he sipped more of his tea.

“There is a body...” He started and then paused.

“This is Alinor, and we are the Thalmor, this is not news.”

“True, but this one is near to the tower...It has...Impact trauma...And a significant degree of it...”

Trellanwr paused and lowered his mug further. “Male or female?” he asked.

“Female...As far as we could tell.”

Trellanwr put his half finished mug down on a nearby table and slowly walked to the window. The rain continued its relentless drenching of the city.

The Bosmer ran a hand down his beard. Balls, he thought.

Turning around he said to the three, “Right, body, Tcheet then Temple. You two either wait and come with us, or go back to whatever you were doing before you came here.” Trellanwr looked to the Altmer who would accompany him to the body, “Give me two minutes to get my rain-cloak and boots.”

He walked from the room, collecting the mug on the way past.



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



Trellanwr knelt by the body, rain dripping from his padded waxed cotton, hooded cloak. He turned and shielded his eyes as he took in the heights of the tower. This is south, and that’s Tcheet’s suites up there.

“Have you any idea who this is, Aide Trellanwr?” asked the man that had come for him in the first place.

Oh yes, he thought.

Balls.



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

[mALX]

Not expecting a reply from the Shrouded guard he actually knew was in the room – Nol kept catching him falling asleep in the chair and becoming visible

ROFL !!!

Awesome scene with Cestra & Nol, and then URK! A cliffhanger! Great Write !!

[Acadian]

A rainy night in Alinor!

’He put his hand to the luma-crystal next to the bed and held it there as the room’s light increased further.’
I love this clever lighting!

Nol is recovering nicely, only to get his heart kicked around by Cestra. She is quite a button-pushing piece of work.

“There is a body...” He started and then paused.
“This is Alinor, and we are the Thalmor, this is not news.”


This post has been edited by Acadian: Jun 8 2012, 12:41 AM

[Grits]

The image of the Shrouded guard turning visible as he falls asleep then doubtlessly jerks awake and re-Shrouds is just hilarious.

What a hot and painfully true moment between Cestra and Nol. It’s good to hear exactly why she’s been doing what she’s been doing!

Oh my gosh, Trellanwr and the landlady were fun to read. Something about him has hooked me. Hmm...

“Have you any idea who this is, Aide Trellanwr?” asked the man that had come for him in the first place.

At first I thought oh no, and then I remembered, Revenge!

I’m so glad the Story Fairy™ came through, McB!!

[Lady Saga]

However the Story Fairy™ decided to grab me by the metaphoricals and lead me to the bubbling morass that it likes to call The Plot™

The Story Fairy is trademarked? See I knew it! All this time....

Lady Saga - Welcome aboard...I hope I haven't caused you to jump ship already though...Many thanks for trying at least...

Ha ha,no way man. You have sort of an abrasive writing-style at times, but that's not a bad thing. I can almost hear you telling the story in your (I'm assuming) Welsh accent. Very lively.

P17

This post has been edited by Lady Saga: Jun 10 2012, 05:34 PM

[McBadgere]

Many many thanks to you who read the last part...Much appreciated...

mALX - Glad I always manage to make you laugh with it all... ...Cheers...

Acadian - Yes, I enjoyed the luma crystal thing meself...Wants one!...Cheers for being here still...

Lady Saga!! - Well cheers for that...Abrasive? Me?... ...Sadly my accent is kinda hardly there, and tends to drift towards the one of the person I'm nearest...I'm - unfortuantely - an uncontrolable mimic...And I absorb the strongest accent nearby... ...Y'all...But many many thanks!!... ...

Athynae - I know you read it!!...You told me!!...Thanks for the continued pushing and needling and threats to make me keep going...You rock!!...

Grits - Right from the first post you said you loved this story... ...And you're still here...That means so much...Thank ye soooo much...Oh, and thanks for your help... ...




Heyaaa!!!... ...

Well, I really did stop this time...

And then I missed it...And then all I wanted to do was write...You lucky people you!!...

So here we are, all back and everything...*applauds self*...

And 'cause it's been a while, and although I'm totally sure you will have remembered everything anyways...*Looks over glasses*...I have produced an brief recap of this particular storyline so far...

Many thanks to Grits who read it through first, just to check I wasn't confusing with even that... ...

So...Recapio!!...



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



This Thalmor thing was originally going to be a one-shot thing of the KOTN blowing up the Thalmor invasion fleet from the cliffs above Anvil. There was also to be a drinking game involved where when one of the chars managed to blow a ship up, they’d take a swig of the wine etc...Aaaamywho...As I was thinking of it, I realised that many of my chars were thinking it something like murder...So then explaining why they (the Thalmor) were evil, started.

Into the front of my brain walked a been-there-done-that Naval Fleet Admiral called Nol Areldur, who is cousin to the named Altmer Knight in the Knights of The Nine in-game storyline, Areldur (the one you meet in Chorrol Chapel when you go to get the Gauntlets of The Crusader. I expanded his name in my story to be Marn Areldur).

I decided the story would be told from how the Thalmor had affected Fleet Admiral Nol and his family and friends directly down the years, thus the Thalmor would have opportunity to be show why exactly they needed smacking down so spectacularly.

Thusly was the Empire era storyline for my KOTN story born.

It started with Thalmor special forces making a failed attempt to make Cyrodiil and Tamriel’s Empress Mia McWylde surrender without war. She declined. Forcefully.

At Anvil, it emerged that the Thalmor invasion fleet was being held inside a magical fog barrier, which Nol Areldur was at a loss to explain to his young Invasion Commander - the son of the Thalmor Overlord - Merhal Tcheet. It was during this exchange that the Argonian Commander of the Knights of The Nine, J-Drell appeared and after a brief (off screen) fight with Merhal Tcheet, J’Drell announces to Nol Areldur that he was only there to save lives.

This kicked off the storyline proper, and sent us back 30 years to the point where the Thalmor took over on the Altmer home island chain – The Summerset Isles. This will be shown in the end (hopefully) to have kinda been Nol’s telling J’Drell about what’s been going on, hence the counting backwards (30 years, 20, 10 etc). Aaamywho...

We were told that the Thalmor had come to power with a High-Priest of Arkay called Oostermann at the helm, and that this had only been accomplished with the help of the man who now called himself Overlord – the former Altmer General Ofwysyn Tcheet.

Our hero Nol and his three friends, Siar Eremnor, Jeck Harramaund and chief-of-the-Altmer-navy, Oversaar Miitr Farrada met in an inn to discuss the events. Farrada then gave the trio long duration (10 years) mission orders in faraway places.

When they returned from this initial mission, the trio discovered that the Isles had been suffering under the new regime and was quite different. The three also discovered that Miitr Farrada was now quite ill. Still, he sent the three away again for another 10 years.

While away, Tcheet had begun to send search ships out for them. When one of them caught up with Nol, he had them killed by his Fleet Security chief Rae Treort, with the all evidence sent to the bottom of the sea.

Now 10 years before the events at Anvil, the three meet up at Miitr Farrada’s island hideaway, prior to returning to face the Thalmor. It emerges that the family and friends of the three have been vanishing. The assumed culprit is Tcheet.

Also met at the island is Nol’s daughter Koyree.

The quartet return to the city of Dusk in order to gather more information but they are ambushed by the Thalmor Justicar, Ondolemar.

Koyree manages to escape.

Ondolemar sends Nol, Siar and Jeck to the capitol city of The Summerset Isles, Alinor, to meet with Tcheet.

When they finally do, Nol discovers that his ex-wife and mother of Koyree, Cestra Areldur is engaged in an affair with the Overlord.

Tcheet receives news from Ondolemar that Koyree had been killed and this causes Nol to drop into a fuge state, and while under the mental breakdown, he injures himself. It is in the hospital while receiving treatment, he meets Tcheet’s Bosmer Aide, Trellanwr.

A short while later, Cestra comes to see Nol in the hospital. They kiss, talk and finally she declares that she’s out for revenge and stuns Nol unconscious.

Thing is, Koyree hasn’t been killed at all. Having escaped, and via an adventure with the lost Dwemer Greatship, the Mriizeleft, some Divines and the Androform, Myrrl, Koyree is now with the Knights of The Nine.

Trellanwr, meanwhile, being the person to seek out about certain things, is called upon to go and investigate a body at the bottom of Tcheet’s palace, The Crystal Tower...



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

This post has been edited by McBadgere: Jul 29 2012, 04:53 AM

[McBadgere]

NEW PARTS ALERT!!!!...

Said it all in the last one...

First new stuffs for a bit!!!...

Enjoy!!...

Please?... ...






Knights of The Nine – Empire. 3E 604





Interlude – Trellanwr - One Day At A Time. (part 1.)




10 Years Earlier. Alinor, Summerset Isles.





Trellanwr put his hand over Mrs Bleddyn’s mouth and said, “Mrs Bleddyn, I’m afraid you need to wake up, quietly and calmly. And it’s most important that you do not scream.”

The old Altmer’s eyes shot open, worry evident in her expression. Mrs Bleddyn’s searching gaze found Trellanwr’s eyes in the moonlit bedroom, she held them and said, “Mmmph?”

“What?..Oh, sorry.” He took his hand away from her mouth.

“Mister Trellanwr!?”

“Ssshh!” He put a finger to his lips. “You really need to keep quiet and come with me.”

“Where?” she whispered.

“Away. I’m afraid...I may be guilty of having brought my work home with me.”

“Well, I’m going to need to get dressed at least?”

“Sadly there’s no time, here’s your coat and boots.”

“Well, I never!?”

“Now there’s a crime, my dear Mrs Bleddyn.” Trellanwr smiled.

“Oh-ho!” giggled Mrs Bleddyn.

As the old Altmer was putting on the outerwear, the Bosmer crossed to the window, opened it inwards and looked down at the alleyway.

The rain and storms that had plagued the city for the past few days had finally abated earlier, in the late morning. The clouds had eventually cleared, but had left the still soaked city reflecting the light of the two moons, from its many rooves. Trellanwr took a moment to breathe in the fresh smell of the departed rain mixed in with the sea salt that covered the city during the windy days.

Reminds me too much of home...Dammit! Focus! he thought sharply.

Sighing, he called the life detect to check for late-night prowlers in the glistening alley down below.

Trellanwr then held out his hands and cast a frost spell, nothing so crude as a snowball or such, but a fine and persistent snow, which fell on an alleyway of Alinor, in the middle of summer. The snow appeared to hit no surfaces that would suggest a Shrouded person or persons were hiding in the alley, so he turned back to Mrs Bleddyn.

The old lady stood nearby. Already tall and thin, the moonlight seemed to render her skeletal, even in her coat. The Altmer’s still dark hair was cut shorter above the shoulder than many women he’d seen, but the volume of it made it stand out from her head, bush-like, giving the impression of more than there actually was, somehow. A worried expression on her face as she looked around her bedroom made her look almost childlike, despite her great age.

A huge wave of guilt for what he was about to do gnawed at the Bosmer.

“Mrs Bleddyn.” He whispered and gestured for her to come over to him. Trellanwr put his hand to one of the pockets on his dark Chamelearmour’s utility belt. He took out an ornate amulet on a chain. “Here, a present. Would you mind wearing it my dear?”

“Oh! It’s beautiful!?”

“Yes it is, and it would be best if you do not do anything sudden such as jump while wearing it. Please walk slowly over here.” The Bosmer said as he looked out of the window again.

The old lady came and stood with him, “Why not?...Oooh!?” As she put the amulet on, Mrs Bleddyn was startled as the enchantment released by it, took hold.

“Because ninety seven percent weight reduction is nothing to be sniffed at.” Trellanwr said quietly as he put a hand up to her shoulder. “Now, it is very important that you trust me on this next bit.”

“Of course.” The old Altmer said instantly.

Ice stabbed at his heart.

“I’m going to climb out of this window and when I tell you, you need to climb across my shoulders from my left to right. Don’t worry, with that amulet on, your strength to hold on to me and mine to you, you’ll be safe. Then you need to put your arms around my neck and hang there, down my back.”

“Um?” Mrs Bleddyn said, unconvinced.

“Please? You really need to trust me now.”

She nodded.

Trellanwr climbed out of the open window and hung there; hands over the window frame and feet finding the smallest of purchases on the blocks of the house. “Come.” he said.

The old woman climbed over his shoulder as he’d asked. He put a hand to steady the Altmer as she put her arms around his neck and hung like he’d asked.

“Oooh?” she whispered.

“What?”

“There’s a rather unfortunate draught Mr Trellanwr?”

He laughed, despite the situation. “Sorry, I shall be as quick as possible.”

“Please?”

With practiced ease, he descended the outer wall of the house, his hands and feet finding gaps in the masonry. Mrs Bleddyn’s enchantment enabled, barely there extra weight, posing no problem at all.

The Altmer’s feet touched the ground and she let Trellanwr go. He reached out his hand for the amulet and she reluctantly gave it back. “It’s so pretty.” she said.

“It’s not the only thing, my dear Mrs Bleddyn, especially in this moonlight.”

“Oh, stop it.” she giggled and waved a hand at him.

Trellanwr smiled and held out a hand. “Come on, we need to go.”



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



She took his hand and they quickly walked away from the house. They weaved through alleyways; crossed over main roads as rapidly as possible. Finally, they stopped in a dark alley.

Trellanwr looked about himself. “Right, Mrs Bleddyn,” He took her hand in both of his and very subtly brought a charm spell to one of them, “it is very important you tell me exactly where your sister lives. There is only the two of you now, is that correct?”

She sighed and nodded. “We outlived everyone...Lucky us.” She said with no enthusiasm.

Trellanwr nodded and asked again. “Where is she exactly, Mrs Bleddyn.”

She told him an address near Lillandril, near the north coast, and he nodded.

“Gentlemen?”

Two men stepped out of the shadows. They both wore armour and a mask that covered the lower half of their faces.

Mrs Bleddyn gasped and stepped back. “No!..Mr Trellanwr?” she looked to the Bosmer, “what was it I did? Surely there’s no need for this.”

“I’m so sorry Mrs Bleddyn, you have to go with these men...Now.”



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



Earlier that day.



Trellanwr knelt by the body, rain dripping from his padded waxed cotton, hooded cloak. He turned and shielded his eyes as he took in the heights of the tower. This is south, and that’s Tcheet’s suites up there.

“Have you any idea who this is, Aide Trellanwr?” asked the man that had come for him in the first place.

Oh yes, he thought.

Balls.

The Bosmer sighed, “Yes...Unfortunately, I do.” He stood up and then looked at the functionary. “Go get a covered cart,” Trellanwr gestured towards the tower with one hand, “give them this card from me,” he fished around his jacket pocket and produced one, “then take...her, to the south Temple. We don’t need any crossings do we?”

He nodded his dismissal to the man, who then rushed off to do as bidden.

Trellanwr looked slowly about himself, anger simmering.

The rain continued.

He turned and walked towards his second appointment.



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



Aide Trellanwr made his way up through the Crystal Tower having briefly called into his office to deposit his cloak. Trellanwr used staircases that he doubted many knew of. Certainly not Tcheet, who was more fond of the bigger picture than the minute details in front of his face. More fond of simply living in a giant symbol of power than truly exploring it. But not Trellanwr. No, he’d managed to find as many of the secret ways as whoever had built it had put in. Well, probably. A joyous misuse of power, Shrouding yourself to avoid giving away the ways in and out. He knew that there was at least one other that knew of the passages. The signs were there that the ways were being used, but by whom, the Bosmer had no idea.

He reached the Throne Room floor of the Tower, cast life detect to look for those un-Shrouded, touched a panel on the wall, and in a small room in an obscure part of the level, a wall panel opened and shut quickly. Nothing walked quickly to a door and opened it. Mere air looked up and down the corridor. Deciding it was clear, a weak zephyr entered it. Silence and emptiness closed the door behind itself and walked towards the Throne Room. As it rounded a corner, the absence of anything blurred and became Aide Trellanwr again.



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



He paused outside the opened door that was on the left of the Throne Room. He could see Tcheet in conversation with one of his Generals. The Overlord was pacing up and down, obviously agitated about something. Trellanwr noted a limp, almost hidden in the pacing; and was Tcheet massaging his arm too?

“Take a detachment, get to Lillandril and burn that kriffing University to the ground. Then find all the guild houses and flatten them. Bast*rd mages!! I want them all dead.”

The General nodded. “All the mages Sire? That does basically include most of your army.” He flinched as Tcheet took an angry step towards him.

Tcheet paused, his rage reduced to a simmer, “Of course,” he said, “The Mages Guild, Bureau, its ilk, members and buildings. Find them and burn them. Can you manage that General?”

“Sire,” the General took his life into his hands, “But what of your...arrangement?”

“The arrangement no longer applies General.”

“Of course, My Lord.” He saluted, “The Aldmeri Dominion will cover the world. Glory to the Thalmor.”

Tcheet bowed his head in reply.

The General turned and marched briskly away.

“Oh General,”

The officer turned.

“Take a couple of those damned Frarettal. Let’s see how they work against something that might actually give them a decent workout.”

The General winced, then bowed. “Of course, Sire.”



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



“Frarettal?” Trellanwr said quietly to himself.

A reply threatened to completely remove his composure, but with an astounding degree of control he merely raised an eyebrow when a voice said into his ear, “Yes, walking slabs of nearly-men who are magic to the core; possessed of destructive powers beyond anything hitherto witnessed; but their ultimate talent is to suck out every single shred of magic in the area and create a wave of power impossible to defend from. We have wasted many men finding this out. It was really quite fun.” The voice had a smile in it as it said this. “We have no idea where they came from, only that we believe the Great Arkay sent them to us in our time of ascendance.”

“You sound quite proud of them Lord Oostermann, considering you have no idea where they came from, and therefore they could turn on you as soon as help you.” Trellanwr turned slightly so that he was side on to the tall Altmer. The Bosmer looked up and raised an eyebrow.

“Ah, my overconfident little $hit of an underling, that’s the beautiful sign that they were sent by Arkay himself. They kneel before their undoubted masters and do anything asked of them.”

“Yes well, an oh so sweet dancing bear is still a bear, and it will tear your head off as soon as twirl like top, if it decides to.”

Oostermann’s face darkened, and he started grinding his jaw. Then abruptly, he stalked into the throne room.



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



Overlord Tcheet’s head turned in the direction of movement and his face grew visibly angrier as he followed Oostermann’s progress through the room. The High-Priest walked to a table and poured himself a drink.

Trellanwr sighed quietly and slowly followed in.

“My dear, you look ravishing today!” Oostermann said to Tcheet, words dripping with sarcasm. “Have you done something new with your hair?”

“Piss off. Seriously, I’m in no mood for your sparring today.” Tcheet put his head down and rubbed the back of his neck.

Trellanwr noticed a red, hand shaped weal on the side of Tcheet’s head, the hair burnt off along the length of the fingers.

A shock spell? Ouch. Thought Trellanwr, one which was quickly followed by the remembrance of the body at the base of the tower. He sighed.

Which was a mistake.

Tcheet’s stare pinned him in place.

“Not that I care, really, but you’re acting odder than you usually do. Is something amiss that I’ve – ahem – missed?” asked Oostermann.

“I’ve been guilty of letting my guard down and being betrayed for it. It seems I cannot trust even those closest to me.”

Tcheet clicked his fingers and several guards un-Shrouded. Trellanwr noted that there were two by each exit. He angled himself so as to view as many of the guards as possible.

“Okay.” Said the High-Priest, his one good eye roving about the room. “Presumably that explains the new hair-do and the distinct lack of decent ar$e parading herself around the room then?”

“The harlot Areldur finally showed her true self and her distinct lack of enlightenment. It was necessary to show her the error of her ways.”

“Presumably she was dead before you threw her off the tower?” Asked Trellanwr, trying desperately to contain his growing anger.

Oostermann frowned at Tcheet and paused in his drinking.

The Overlord walked towards the Bosmer, “I care not when that woman died, only that she did.”

“What a waste,” The High-Priest shook his head. “You should have had her detained, I would have gladly...pumped her for information.”

Tcheet finally lost his temper.

“Damn you perverted, crippled, pretender and failure!! You were nothing without me!! And all I get for my generosity is daily crap!! And what of you two?! Hmmm?! Are you two planning to kill me?”

Oostermann raised an eyebrow, took a drink and simply said, “Every night.”

Tcheet walked up to him as the atmosphere in the room turned distinctly cold.

The High-Priest tilted his head and smirked. “My dear Ofwysyn, I loathe and detest you to the very core of my being. I would have no more mourned your passing than I would a stray dog’s; And I spend each and every night dreaming of wonderfully inventive ways for your departure from this world...But you already know that, don’t you? Have I ever pretended to be other than completely disgusted at your continued existence? Hmm?...And yet...” Oostermann sighed, looked down and banged his walking stick on the floor. “As you pointed out, so succinctly...” He sighed again. “So no...I hate you, and I while I refuse to say I need you...I will admit you are, at this time, by Divine edict, necessary. Besides it’s more fun to have you alive to hate than otherwise.”

Tcheet continued to stare at Oostermann for a time then nodded, apparently satisfied. He turned and finally looked at the Bosmer.

Trellanwr raised an eyebrow as he noted a brief flicker of fear in himself.

The Overlord walked towards him.



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



“My Lord?” Trellanwr began, “have I done nothing but all you’ve ever asked?”

“Yes, yes you have. Question is, why?”

The Bosmer frowned, confused, “My Lord?”

“You are a good man Trellanwr, possibly a decent man also. And yet here you are, trusted Aide Trellanwr...Always ready for the next order where I inflict necessary suffering on the people for the greater good.

“Yet although it’s apparently not necessary for me to ever need to resort to it, you appear to have no family I could use as leverage on you. And as for your home-life, a rented apartment for all these years? No lovers? No companions? You have no friends as far as we can see. In how many years since I’ve known you...What is it?..Fifteen years?..Not one friend Trellanwr?

“It’s as if you’re leaving no-one I could use as a hold on you...Almost deliberately so, it could seem...So the question is -

“Are you a spy Trellanwr?”

“I did find him listening at the doorway just now.” Said Oostermann, rather unhelpfully.

Tcheet’s head turned back from regarding the High-Priest, with a dark look.

“Well of course I’m a spy.” The Bosmer said, “I always have been. But I am your spy sire.” Trellanwr bowed his head.

“Stop it and answer the question.” Tcheet said through gritted teeth.

Trellanwr sighed. “Sire, I served your predecessor, High-Governor Arkrasnaph while in the Aldmeri Governance Secret Service,”

“Yes, so you’ve said.” Interrupted the Overlord.

“Yes I have, and you’ve known all this for a good few years, but the point is, I did all that was asked of me then as well. Not all of that was planting roses – if you catch my meaning – so performing less than pleasant, though necessary, orders would never have been a new thing. No, I have no family left, and the friendship thing,” the aide shrugged, “force of habit...I’m not a big fan of other people anyways, they bore me. Besides, I have no time to spare.” He smiled.

“Ah yes, the good old A.G.S.S.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Some of these,” Tcheet gestured to the guards, “were A.G.S.S., old friends from back in the day, as it happens. Your being one of the few Bosmers to have ever been given the honour of joining the A.G.S.S. in the first place, you’d be pretty memorable, and yet they don’t remember you...And in an odd coincidence, any records that would have been kept about your...employment, were destroyed in a fire.”

“There are others that could tell you about me, but Arkrasnaph would have been able to tell you if he hadn’t mysteriously turned up dead two weeks after you came to power, of course. And as for these,” Trellanwr nodded towards the guards, “they knew every operative in the service, did they? Bosmer or otherwise? Sir, what would be the point of a secret service if we all went about shouting ‘Hey Bahb!’ to each other when we passed on the street? Who exactly would watch them to make sure they were still trustworthy?”

“Is that what you’re going with, you’re the spy who watches the other spies? Careful Trellanwr, as a wise man once said – ‘And what do you call Assassins who accuse Assassins anyway?’”

“Dead.” Said Oostermann from the direction Tcheet’s throne.

“Sire, it appears I’m in enough trouble so may I just ask, for you to have found out these things must have come from before all...This,” Trellanwr pointed to the mark on Tcheet’s head.

Tcheet put his fingers to the mark, “Yes Trellanwr, I’ve asked before, what do you think I am...Stupid? I know all about everyone here.”

Oostermann chuckled.

“Yes?” Tcheet snapped.

“If you knew all about everyone you’d never have got caught with your pants down, huertyn.”

Tcheet closed his eyes, his jaw clenching. He took a deep breath and rolled his head, as if stretching his neck.

Then, his eyes shot open. “Ah, the Divine Arkay sends inspiration in the darkest of times.”

Tcheet smiled and walked towards his Throne, gesturing for Oostermann to vacate it...Now.

Trellanwr frowned.

“It’s very simple, if you really are one of the chosen of Arkay, he will spare you.”

“Sire.” Trellanwr breathed a sigh of relief and bowed.

“If...”

The Bosmer frowned.

“If you can kill all these guards before they get you.”

“Well he’s not going to have much of a chance to after they get him is he, Ball-sack?” said Oostermann.

“You’d be surprised.” Replied Tcheet. “Oh, and if one of you casts a Shroud, I will kill you myself. The Divine Arkay blesses you...Maybe.”



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



The guards looked at each other in confusion.

Balls. Thought Trellanwr.

Almost as quick as thought, he lifted his arms out wide, turned his palms upwards and filled the room with fog.

Then, he moved.



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

This post has been edited by McBadgere: Jul 29 2012, 06:17 AM

[mALX]

*

And 'cause it's been a while, and although I'm totally sure you will have remembered everything anyways...*Looks over glasses*...I have produced an brief recap of this particular storyline so far...

SPEW !!! "Huh? Were you looking at me? Urk!" ROFL !!!!

“Well, I never!?”

“Now there’s a crime, my dear Mrs Bleddyn.” Trellanwr smiled.

Her saying that had me rolling, the next made me spew my coffee! Loved that little interchange!

“There’s a rather unfortunate draught Mr Trellanwr

I hadn't thought of that, nice detail !!

And as for these,” Trellanwr nodded towards the guards, “they knew every operative in the service, did they? Bosmer or otherwise? Sir, what would be the point of a secret service if we all went about shouting ‘Hey Bahb!’ to each other when we passed on the street? Who exactly would watch them to make sure they were still trustworthy?”

LOVED this little passage! He is right, too. Trellanwr seems to be the smartest/cagiest one in the bunch here, and it seems he smelled the trap before he walked into it to be so prepared. Awesome scene here, this section and the one with Mrs. Bleddyn ROCKED this chapter !!!

Awesome Write, and so glad to see you posting again !!! Welcome back !!!

*

[Acadian]

The whole little exchange with Mrs Bleddyn quoted below was simply delightful:
“Away. I’m afraid...I may be guilty of having brought my work home with me.”
“Well, I’m going to need to get dressed at least?”
“Sadly there’s no time, here’s your coat and boots.”
“Well, I never!?”
“Now there’s a crime, my dear Mrs Bleddyn.” Trellanwr smiled.
“Oh-ho!” giggled Mrs Bleddyn.’

Casting a light snowfall to check for shroudies was brilliant!

I can imagine how Tcheet got his shocking new do. And, it seems, his violent response.

An icy scene among Tcheet, Oysterdude and Tellanwyr. Fight’s on! Let there be fog!

[Grits]

I’m so very happy to see an update, McB!

The whole scene between Trellanwr and his landlady was charming and chilling. I mean, if Aide Trellanwr climbs out the window with you, things have gone wrong. I love how she speaks in questions. The snow test was a great idea! At this point on the first read-through, I thought that Trellanwr might be doing a very bad thing.

“Have you any idea who this is, Aide Trellanwr?” asked the man that had come for him in the first place.

Oh yes, he thought.

Balls.

Balls indeed.

The Overlord was pacing up and down, obviously agitated about something. Trellanwr noted a limp, almost hidden in the pacing; and was Tcheet massaging his arm too?

Oh, darn. I was hoping for missing limbs at least. Though the burned head sounds like it hurt.

“Yet although it’s apparently not necessary for me to ever need to resort to it, you appear to have no family I could use as leverage on you. And as for your home-life, a rented apartment for all these years? No lovers? No companions? You have no friends as far as we can see. In how many years since I’ve known you...What is it?..Fifteen years?..Not one friend Trellanwr?

Oooooh, now I see. Very tense! I can't wait to see how the Bosmer gets out of this situation!

It was fun to see the Overlord and the High-Priest hissing at each other, especially after (before ) the sweet exchange between Trellanwr and Mrs Bleddyn.

I loved every word, McB!!

[McBadgere]

Weeelll...It's nearly sunday morning over here!... ...

NEW PARTS ALERT!!...

Reets...

mALX...Nah, not you, but I thought that a more in-depth recap of what had gone before would be handy!!...I'm so glad that the Mrs Bleddyn came accross well...Thank you so much mALX!!...

Acadian...So many thanks m'friend!!... ...I hope that even after you've ended yer tale for now, you will still come around to read!...

The Ghostly presence of Athynae who still whispers in my ear that she enjoyed it...I'm sure I heard it somewhere... ...Thank you muchly much...*Bows*...

Grits!!... ...Well, I'm glad I managed to give some mystery for at least five minutes...I think I have less ability to keep suspense than a housebrick... ...But, c'est la vie!... ...I'm glad my hissing cats went well, more to come of that...Much and many thanks Grits...Much appreciated...



To continue...

After Overlord Tcheet was attacked and injured by Cestra Areldur, he's gone a bit more...Paranoid...And has decided that Aide Trellanwr must be a spy...To prove himself one of the Divine Arkay's chosen and therefore to be trusted...The Bosmer has to defeat a great few guards...As you do...


Oh, BTW...I think this post pushes the PG-13 somewhat...Just a warning and an apology...Thanks...





Knights of The Nine – Empire. 3E 604






Interlude – Trellanwr.




One Day At A Time. (part 2.)




10 Years Earlier. Alinor, Summerset Isles.






Aide Trellanwr ran crouched to his left and ducked behind the nearest pillar. The fog was never going to give him much time. With no Shrouds it was life-detect all the way. Not even invisibility could be an asset against Tcheet’s personal guards.

Trellanwr couldn’t be sure he’d survive Tcheet’s wrath for killing his guards, even if he managed to live through killing his guards.

One thing at time, dear boy, He thought to himself. One thing at a time.

He needed some allies. With quick silent prayers to any divine who just happened to be listening, and a tug of warning along the connection that he and his twin shared, the one which allowed this next cheat in the first place, he began conjuring.

First the Wiiriial. Two shapes appeared above him and started circling the pillar. Larger than a man’s head, a Wiiriial resembled a flying mouth. Two small, almost baby-like arms jutted out of the side of the lipless maw, with what looked like eyes a little above them.

The first of the fireballs came at Trellanwr from the right. One of the Wiiriial dropped into the fire’s path and caught it in the waiting mouth. The fire simply vanished as if it had never been.

Next, the Golem. Much stronger and durable than a skeleton, the tall Golem appeared sporting dark plate armour and an Ebony longsword and shield. Eyes glowing from the fire within itself, it walked in the direction of the guards with the unstoppable inevitability of an approaching avalanche.

Just a few scant seconds had passed since Tcheet had effectively passed a death sentence on him but Trellanwr needed a couple more in order to achieve this next trick.

The Bosmer sought out the connection to his twin again. He felt concern coming his way, but Trellanwr visualised calm, reassurance that he had it under control and formulated the words asking for permission for what he needed to do next. Trellanwr instantly felt the permission granted, but almost as soon as it was given, he also felt an angry, all consuming heat come down the connection. His mind walled up the link and he blocked out the rageful venting that usually accompanied the heat.

The communication had taken no more than an eyeblink and so Trellanwr set about the one last conjuration.

He blocked out the sounds of ringing swords and the battering of the Golem’s shield; the whooshing of the air as the Wiiriials dropped and ascended to catch the magic attacks, and appeared to pray.

If anyone had been able to see through the fog, it would have looked as though at the same time as being down on one knee, head bent over clasped hands, he had also stood up and walked forward.

Trellanwr lifted his head, and put a hand down on the floor to steady himself. Though partly obscured by the fog, the Moid stood before him. An almost exact duplicate of himself, but one unbound by physicality, and unlike the Bosmer, nigh invulnerable.

His heart and head pounding from the effort of casting, he nevertheless sent thanks to his sister.

Trellanwr brought the life-detect to the front of his mind. He could see a knot of guards engaged with the Golem, so the Bosmer sent the Moid to give the embattled ally some support.



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With the Wiiriials behind him to prevent attacks from that quarter, Trellanwr made for the nearest guard. He needed a sword. Being a mere Aide, armament in the Tower was never really needed...Well, usually.

Trellanwr ran at the guard, who tried to time the attack and brought his sword down to bisect the Bosmer.

At the last moment, Trellanwr pushed his speed fortifier and crossed the distance in an eyeblink before the sword was far enough down. The strength enhanced punch from the Bosmer’s shield-spell covered fist caused the guard to double up and fly backwards a ways. With a couple of steps the Aide was stood over the now kneeling and retching guard. Trellanwr put his other hand to the back of the Altmer’s head and with a genuine feeling of guilt, the Bosmer said “I’m so sorry.” and shot an ice spike through it.



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



The Moid had crossed the distance to the Golem in moments, simply putting his shoulder down and barrelling into the nearest attackers. Having no need of the laws of biological physics, the conjuration was simply up on its feet the instant its shoulder touched the floor. The Moid saw the Golem engaged with several more aggressors. It walked up behind the nearest fighters that were hammering on the Golem’s shield. A slim sword appeared in each of the construct’s hands and it ran the nearest guards through before turning to the next one.



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The Golem, having had the immediate bulk of the danger removed, bashed the nearest guard in the face with its shield. As the first guard stumbled backwards a way, a second tried his luck and lunged forward with his sword while the Golem’s attention seemed to be elsewhere.

If he realised his mistake as the Golem’s sword pommel shattered his skull, it really was somewhat too late.



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Having despatched two more Altmers determined to not disappoint Tcheet, Trellanwr closed on the guards near the first set of doors.

The first of them cast a fire cloak about himself, walking towards the Aide in a roiling ball of flame.

Trellanwr chuckled grimly as a Wiiriial dropped from above and swallowed the guard whole. He himself had no curiosity to find out himself where the darkness within the mouths led, if anywhere.

He saw the second guard just standing there, mouth agape at the disappearance of his associate. With perfect aim, Trellanwr threw the short-sword he’d picked up into it. The guard slammed into the wall and moved no more.

The temptation to bolt through the now clear exit was almost overwhelming.

But that would accomplish nothing, he thought, so the Bosmer simply turned and through the thinning fog headed for the nearest glow.



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



“Do you know, Tcheet old-boy, watching this, I’m inclined to trust him.”

“Hmmm?” The Overlord nodded distractedly, watching with his life-detect blazing.

“Are you listening?”

“Mmm-Mmm.” Tcheet shook his head.

Oostermann sighed. “I think, in all honesty, if he was going to kill us he could have done it long ago.”

“There’s worse things for us than being killed.”

The high-priest frowned. “Really?”

“Oh yes.”



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The Moid parried the sword with ease and engaged the Altmer in swordplay. It was almost possible to believe that the Moid was enjoying the exercise, right up to the point where it swatted the other’s sword aside and drove a spiked fist up under the chin of the guard and shoot a bolt of destruction up into the man’s brain.


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The Golem caught the flat of a sword and twisted his hand, snapping the metal. The guard at the other end stumbled back, just in time for a spike from the Moid to shoot through the back of his head.

The Moid reshaped the spike into a jagged mace ball and then swiped it sideways into the chest of another, crushing the armour and killing the man instantly.

Taking two steps it then grabbed the arms of yet another and held them, vice-like. The guard screamed as the Golem walked towards him and punched his head off.



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“Is this all typical for the A.G.S.S.?”

Tcheet shook his head slowly.

“I never had any reason to see them fight.” Oostermann continued, “They were usually just asking me very probing questions rather than needing a fist fight...Wait...Then who?”

Tcheet shrugged.

“Aaahhh, that’s what you meant - Cyrodiil. Are you going to let him live then?”

“We’re not finished yet, I may not have to do anything...Sadly, I can’t just kill him out of hand.”

Oostermann looked down with a stunned frown on his face, “Has that damned shock knocked that last half of your wits loose or something? Whyever not? You usually have no problem killing people for breathing. Awww,” Oostermann mock pouted, “getting performance issues are we?”

Tcheet sighed, “I have no proof for what I’m accusing him of, he has genuinely done all I’ve asked without question. I’ve also got a feeling that I was wrong about him.”

“Again, it’s never stopped you before. And I’m sure I haven’t been at the felldew this morning...But, did I hear you just say you were wrong about something? ”

Tcheet nodded, “I’ve got an uncomfortable feeling that he may actually have one friend.”

Oostermann smirked and looked over to the always thinning fog, “Awww!! Does the Overlord want to stop the fight and go make kissy faces with his little Bosmer pet then?”

Tcheet closed his eyes and breathed slowly and then opened them again. “No. Look, don’t you have a goat you want to go and impregnate or something?”

“Oh yes.” Oostermann took a drink from the goblet he was holding, “Your mother.”

Tcheet stared at the High-Priest for a short while, “Well, you’ll have to kick your mother out of her bed first.”

The tall Altmer appeared to consider this, then his face showed his agreement of the assessment and said, “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Tcheet looked at Oostermann, winced, shook his head, looked to his right and clapped loudly twice.

“Besides, if he lives, it will be the will of Arkay.”

“Riiight.” Oostermann replied.



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



The Altmer High-Priest of Arkay closed his eye, dug into himself and brought forth his Blessing of Arkay. Then he looked outwards. A few shapes glowed with the colour of Arkay, but one stood out - Bright luminous green, with four other fainter green shapes around the room, one of which appeared to have an amber outline.

Oostermann frowned and with an act he - much later - put down to a Divine Intervention, decided to keep quiet.



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



The Altmer guard put both hands on the hilt of his sword in an effort to force it to push Trellanwr’s downwards.

The Bosmer gave it a couple of seconds before whipping his weapon out from under the blade and with an upstroke took both hands off the guard, mid-forearm.

The guard screamed.

Briefly.

Trellanwr heard the two claps and briefly wondered what they were, but then he also heard the unmistakeable sound of the Wiiriials catching spells behind him, and he turned to face the new threat.

A trio of guards were stood together, as if there would be safety in numbers somehow.

Aren’t we done yet? Where the hells are they all coming from? The Bosmer thought.

He decided to briefly expand his awareness, knowing that it left him somewhat exposed, but trusting the Wiiriials to protect him for the short time.



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



Tcheet could see well enough through what was essentially now a thin mist, to watch as the Dunmer serving girl brought the jug of wine and two goblets. He watched the sway of the hips and appreciated the barely covered, lean yet obviously well toned dark blue body. He saw the girl look briefly to her right towards the carnage and sounds of battle without flinching, then her deep-red eyes turned once more to regard him.

She walked towards him, holding his stare all the way.



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



The serving girl reached the pair, bowed her head and offered the tray and its contents to the Overlord.

“Thank you?..”

“Daena, my Lord.”

“Daena.” Tcheet nodded, “You are new here are you not?”

“Yes Sire.”

“And yet this did not cause you distress?” Tcheet gestured outward.

“My late master trained me as a Gladiator. This,” she pointed to the battle, “is nothing.”

Tcheet smiled. Then quickly frowned as he heard a scream, unmistakeably from a Bosmer. He sighed.

“So what happened to your master that you are now here?” asked Oostermann.

The Dunmer turned her fierce red eyes on the High-Priest and tilted her head. “He made a mistake, my Lord.” And paused.

“Which was?” asked an increasingly enthralled Tcheet.

She turned her gaze back to him and held his eyes, “He trained me as a Gladiator.” She bowed and turned to leave.

Tcheet leaned forward and grabbed her upper arm, she looked back to him and smiled. Tcheet stroked the arm with his thumb. “Stay, I would get to know you better.”

“As you wish, my Lord.”



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



Trellanwr looked down at himself and then his awareness turned outwards, around the room. The Golem and the Moid had finished off their remaining foes and were quickly making their way down the room towards him. Tcheet and Oostermann were still the far end of the room. So just these three remained. He fell back into his body.

Have they any idea that only they are left? Would they give up if they knew?

Trellanwr recast the Battle Meditation and felt its restorative effects once more. With a sharp inhalation and blowing it out again, he headed for the trio.



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



The Bosmer approached the three swordsmen. They gave each other space to work in so Trellanwr simply picked the one on the right to attack first. Sadly, this appears to have been pretty much their plan. As soon as he was engaged, the other two joined in, surrounding him with cold steel. His skill kept them at bay and even sometimes driving one or other backwards.

The Wiiriials were of no use save interference as no magicks were being employed. The guards simply batted them away with the flats of their swords.

Suddenly, there was a sickening crunch as one of the guards flew sideways. The Moid had hit him at speed, crushing him.

Immediately one of the remaining foes turned on the Moid. As soon as the guard’s sword arm finished its arc, the Moid rushed forwards, grabbed the arm and sliced it off above the elbow. The guard screamed until the Moid backhanded him across the face – with the guard's own hand. The Moid jump-kicked the dazed guard in the chest and the Altmer stumbled backwards onto the outstretched sword of the Golem.

Trellanwr was sick of it by now and simply unleashed a flurry of moves that was at least partly toying with the guard, just to show that he was completely outmatched and would soon die. Then, in the middle of it all, Trellanwr had the horrible feeling that this was simply far too much like his mother than he was comfortable with and took three swipes at the Altmer, finishing him off.



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



Trellanwr looked down at his appropriated sword covered in blood. Only a few minutes had passed since he walked in the room and now his whole world had changed again. How could Tcheet think of him as merely Aide Trellanwr now?

Fifteen years of desperately hard, soul destroying work ruined, essentially because one Fleet Admiral had wanted to play hero and gotten his daughter killed in the process?

Damned Universe!!...

A rage took him and he screamed, throwing the sword away with all his strength.

Tears fell down his cheeks.

Taking a few calming breaths, he turned to the Wiiriials. Bowing his head to them, he cast the dispel and they vanished. He turned to the Golem, and once more he bowed, but this time, the Golem held the guard of his sword up to its face, in salute. Then the firelight in its eyes went out and it crumbled into a purple dust which then dissipated.

The Moid stood there looking at him. “Thank you.” Trellanwr said, the Moid just raised an eyebrow and ran at the Bosmer. Despite the speed it was travelling, when the Moid hit, it was with the force of a strong wind. Trellanwr stumbled a couple of steps before righting himself. The Moid gone, the Bosmer felt the magic connection to his twin fading and he sent his thanks down the bond they shared.

Trellanwr wiped his eyes and composed himself. Then, having taken several deep breaths, started the walk up the Throne Room.



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



The Bosmer walked up to the dais while looking at the floor. At the foot of the stairs he raised his head towards Tcheet and held his eyes.

Suddenly he noticed the Dunmer wench and a frown briefly crossed his brows.

Haltingly he said, “Sire, I have done everything you ever asked of me. It’s far more difficult to prove innocence, but if that’s what it takes...”

“You are alive because Arkay has named you one of his chosen, Trellanwr. If he deems you worthy then that is good enough for me.” Said The Overlord.

The Bosmer heard the High-Priest snort and looked to him briefly.

Tcheet stood, picked up a sheet of paper that had been lying by the throne and gestured for Trellanwr to come and get it. “Could you have this taken to Warden Ancano?”

“Sire?” Trellanwr frowned questioningly.

“It’s a list of those whose...Cooperation we will no longer need.”

The Bosmer approached the throne apprehensively, suspecting a trap. Taking the list Trellanwr bowed, “Of course.” He said.

“Oh, it would appear you need to freshen up Trellanwr." The Overlord said, “So If you would bring the dear Fleet Admiral Areldur to the Halwich building in, say, three hours?”

Trellanwr bowed again. “Of course Sire, thank you.”

The Overlord nodded.

The Bosmer looked to the High-Priest and bowed to him.

He then inclined his head to the Dunmer, then turned and left.



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



Tcheet watched the Bosmer leave. When he judged that Trellanwr was beyond earshot he turned his head slightly and said, “Massey?”

“Sire.”

“Follow him. See what he does.”

“As you wish, My Lord.”

There was a brief swish, and the air moved as the Shrouded guard left.

Tcheet looked to Daena and smiled. “So Gladiator, what was your weapon of choice?”

The Dunmer smiled, “Sire, I’m told I have exceptional blade skills.”

Oostermann snorted.

Tcheet smiled. “Well, I appear to have some time to kill. Care to give me a demonstration?”

“It would be a pleasure, my Overlord.”

“Yes, I’m sure it will.”



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



As she was led away by the hand, Daena took one look down the room, but the Bosmer had already left.



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







***Robert's note...Moid was a character in an 80s kids tv series called Terrahawks...He was a baddie that managed to (almost) perfectly replicate a character to further the evil schemes of the enemies etc...Aaamywho, he was essentially a doppleganger...And I as I thought that word a bit too much even for me, I used the word Moid instead...I just thought I'd say in case someone actually managed to get the reference... ...

This post has been edited by McBadgere: Aug 4 2012, 03:52 PM

[Acadian]

A very intense and magical fight. What a clever batch of helpers Trellanwr conjures up!

‘Oostermann smirked and looked over to the always thinning fog, “Awww!! Does the Overlord want to stop the fight and go make kissy faces with his little Bosmer pet then?”
Tcheet closed his eyes and breathed slowly and then opened them again. “No. Look, don’t you have a goat you want to go and impregnate or something?”
“Oh yes.” Oostermann took a drink from the goblet he was holding, “Your mother.”
Yikes! These two really like each other! Not.

Loved the exchange of honors and salutes between Trellanwr and his helpers as he dispelled them.

[Grits]

I really enjoyed Trellanwr’s various allies. I thought the Wiiriial were especially creepy and neat, and I loved that part where one ate the guy with the flame cloak. Also the Golem’s glowing eyes were a great touch.

The Moid stood there looking at him. “Thank you.” Trellanwr said, the Moid just raised an eyebrow and ran at the Bosmer. Despite the speed it was travelling, when the Moid hit, it was with the force of a strong wind. Trellanwr stumbled a couple of steps before righting himself.

I love this part!

Trellanwr is still a mystery to me, and the frowns and glances with Daena make her a mystery, too. I wonder what goes on in the Halwich building. Probably not anything nice. I look forward to finding out!