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

[McBadgere]

Hello there... ...Well...*Blows out breath*...Yeah...Sorry about that...

Aaamywho...

New parts alert!!

Thanks for the votes about the Gloom Wraith btw... ...I must confess to giggling a bit meself...Which may be a sin, or at least arogance...But hey-ho...Thank you all very much for yer continued support...It is a blessing, and I love you all for it...*Bows*...Thank you...

As other stories are putting the songs used to inspire the writing...I've decided to do much the same...

So...I proudly present the inaugural...

Songs that Helped the Imagining of This story.


Aaamywho...This is set apart from everything else...Kinda...And is spread over two parts...Because it's long-ish, but more importantly....It's heavy...And possibly confusing...Oh, you're all clever, you'll figure it out... ...The other part will follow soon-ish...-Ish...


P.S. - N.R. = Nirn Reckoning...



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

Trellanwr sighed exasperatedly. “Look, there’s no time for this. Please, sit down...Please?”

The Altmer frowned and sat on the bed, the plate beside him.

“Look...Nol...”

“Don’t worry, lad.” Areldur said softly, “I know.”

Trellanwr frowned.

Nol nodded, “I know.”

“What? How?”

The Fleet Admiral smiled, “Just one of the mysteries of the Universe for you...”

Tales of The Aetherium – Empire.






The Ferryman of Souls (Part 1)






3E 594 N.R.








The God-King, Magnus sat at the centre of his domain, spinning through the blackness at dizzying speeds, locked in a near eternal dance with billions of other God-Kings. Dogged by aloof and distant cousins, Magnus roared out at his neighbours and they roared back as each of them obeyed laws even greater than any one of them; each of them drawn into the circle dance of kings at the party celestial; and each party, just one of a billion other parties in a universe so vast as to be rendered meaningless.

Magnus roared into the silent black. His never-ending, infernal internal rage would last for countless millions of years yet, constantly fed from the fires within.

The few attendant subjects bowed to his will and circled him constantly, bathing in his magnificence. Some taking the full heat of his bellowing; others hiding out on the fringes, barely acknowledged as being there at all.

The God-King favoured one of his court more than the others and bestowed his affections accordingly.

Though she could still feel his scorn from time to time, Nirn sat perfectly in place; and as Magnus beamed with a smile full of unending waves of light, heat and a myriad other exotic promises, she was warmed by his glowing love. Thus she rewarded him with her prettiest dress, full of greens and blues, sandy browns and whites.

As they moved through the near empty fairground, she merrily pirouetted daintily in front of him, always more than an arm’s length away. Magnus would laugh and sometimes, he would blow kisses. Nirn would always glow in return; her display a reward for his love.

The life giver, Magnus roared at the blackness. His face a never static mix of spots, whorls, loops, filaments, spicules and prominences; but Nirn never cared; to her he was perfection itself; although, admittedly, she was as self-centred as a gyroscope.

And if Nirn ever noticed the tiny foreign bodies crawling all over her, crying to each other, “Do not look upon the face of Magnus! For he will not suffer you to stare, and he will strike you blind!” she never once paused in her dance for her God-King to show it.



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



High above Nirn, a figure hung.

Beyond the bow-shock, where Magnus’ shout is mollified by Nirn’s outstretched hand, what appeared to be a statue of a man, carved from living marble, paused in a pose, most relaxed. His arms wide, though not stretched, one knee bent, his lower leg trailing behind.

Truly immense wings were unfurled, one to each side, catching the full gale of Magnus’s roar.

The Harn’ashall bathed in the sun’s energies.

Few in number, the Harn’ashall were far too busy for more than one to avail himself of Magnus’ magnificence at any one time.

Ferrymen, was one name given to them by the inhabitants of Nirn. From whispers and rumours started by those fortunate to have glimpsed them, or those poor souls whose relationship with Nirn was somehow skewed and were then mocked for their stories, came the name. Ferrymen, Soul Carriers, Bridgeman, the list went on.

Origins of the species forgotten by those who should have known better, lost in a game of finger pointing and question marks, the Harn’ashall were charged with the ferrying of souls from Nirn to Aetherius. A task as immense as it is misunderstood.

Their only reward a brief respite, a catching of Magnus’ breath to recharge.

The alabaster pseudo-feathers of the Harn’ashall’s mighty wings, rippled with a frenzy of barely controlled kinetic potential as they held against the unceasing wind.



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



Meanwhile, in a plane so difficult to explain its location, that to say it was nearby was as correct as anything else, watched those who had, in fact, created the Harn’ashall.

Beings whose power was unrivalled - they had brought Divines low; they fought their way to and through areas of time so skewed that one foot off the path would have made even the Magick blighted Badlands of Telerapp on the nation of Yokuda look like an adventure playground. They had given the Great Celestial - the They/Them - pause to consider its challenge. Their power was unrivalled, and largely, untested.

At this moment, they stood watching the representation of a Harn’ashall, hanging in space.

Though the three appeared – and were created – identical, save for the accident of the hue of their living marble bodies being different, the mightiest of them turned to her siblings and asked, “Are we doing this? If we are, we have to do it now.”

Her sister nodded once.

Her brother, though his features immobile, she could read him enough to show that he was struggling with a decision.

“Myrrl?” she said kindly, but insistently.

Finally, her brother nodded then turned away.

“House?” the mightiest of the Androforms said to the air.

The Divine Julianos’ mysterious, sentient house indicated that it was ready.

“Very well. House, Begin.”



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



The Harn’ashall decided that his time in the joyous glare of the sun was ending and repositioned himself to make the journey back to Nirn.

He was suddenly aware of an expanding of his consciousness. In most beings this could have been caused by several things, in the Harn’ashall however, this could only mean one thing.

My lady. He thought.

“Which?” came the reply.

The Harn’ashall paused, somewhat confused by this. My lady, Arrai? He internalised.

“Nevermind. Harn’ashall-Ka, we need your help.”



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

This post has been edited by McBadgere: Sep 5 2012, 01:48 PM

[Colonel Mustard]

That was absolutely bloody fantastic, McBadgere; easily the best part you've posted for this story so far and you outstripped the other chapters with this one by miles (not to say that the rest of this has been bad, but if they were Dan Abnett, this was Isaac Asimov, for sake of comparison and scale). Loved the descriptions of Magnus' place in the wider universe/multiverse, and the idea of the Harn'ashall feeding off solar flares was absolutely excellent.

So goddamn good, I love it!

[Grits]

This was astonishing, McBadgere! Each new set of Tales has given me that new-book delight, but this part is like discovering a whole new library. I loved it so much, I’m awed into near wordlessness. Just amazing!

Also, your Nol and Trellanwr intro was perfect. It kept me from sailing away in the immense scale of this part. I love it!

[Acadian]

Out of this world! Gods and Androforms as they go about their celestial business.

’The alabaster pseudo-feathers of the Harn’ashall’s mighty wings, rippled with a frenzy of barely controlled kinetic potential as they held against the unceasing wind.’
This was a wonderfully evocative sentence.

[mALX]

I was glad to see Trellanwr in the intro, and intrigued to find out what Nol knows !!!

Can't help myself, have to do it:

“House?” the mightiest of the Androforms said to the air.

Even the Androforms watch House!

ROFL !!! Great Write!

[McBadgere]

Songs that Helped the Imagining of This story...



Hey there!!... ...

Part 2 newness alert!!!...

Thank yous first...

Mustard - Wow...Umm...Thank you so much...To be have Dan Abnett mentioned in any regard to my story is such an honour... ...That you liked it so much is also, an honour...I thank you very much...

Grits - Always, always thank you from the bottom of my heart...Your encouragement has saved the day on more than one occasion... ...Thank you so much...Hope part 2 lives up to the first bit...

Acadian - Many many thanks...I appreciate you still spending your time trawling through that which I keep flinging at the site... ...There may be a rhyme there...Ne'ermind...Many thanks m'friend... ...

mALX!! - Thank you, as ever...For still carrying on with this... ...Never seen one episode of House...As much as I love Hugh Laurie, never once...And that intro bit with Nol and Trellanwr was taken from the end of the previous bit post, where Trellanwr is trying to tell Nol about Cestra's death...And somehow, he already knew...



Aaaand here's how he found out about it...




Previously on KOTN...Read part 1 (again )...Otherwise...Spoilers sweetie!...







Tales of The Aetherium – Empire.







The Ferryman of Souls (Part 2)







3E 594 N.R.








A room appeared.

Such a small sentence belying the enormity of what had to pass for the words to be have been uttered in the first place.

The violent energies involved in the creation of said room, energies dragged from the dying echoes of long dead, nearby – for want of a better word – universes, causing them to implode; not to say anything about the sheer magnitude of the lies told to – apparently – immutable laws up and down the cosmic scales, simply to hide its fact from all and everything; the misdirection game played with probability, logic, true reality, Aetheric reality.

All to put these particular souls in this particular room at this one moment where it would be possible.

All for one slim chance at moving this one player in the game, so that it reaches the board at the right time.



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



“Wake up sleepyhead,” Miitr Farrada shook a battered Nol Areldur, “They’re not playing cosmic slight-of-hand with the Architects of Fate just so you can sleep through it.”

“Ow. Not my fault. Ces hit me with her damned paralyse spell.” Nol opened one eye; the other he was unable to, it being puffed up and bruised. The Altmer took in what he could see of the room from where he sat. It looked almost exactly like the ante-room in the island getaway that Farrada once owned.

That Farrada had once owned before he’d died.

Nol frowned and looked at the man sat next to him, “Wait. Miitr?” he put a hand on the man’s shoulder, “Miitr?..But you’re...”

Farrada raised an eyebrow and smirked as he said, “Yeah, but looking good with it though.”

Nol had to admit that Farrada was looking as he had in the prime of his life, “Okay. So this is some psychological reaction to the spell and I’ll wake up in a minute.”

Farrada laughed once and smiled, “Good lad. Now get up, someone has a message for you.”

The Once-Miitr stood and extended an arm to help Nol up.

As he was pulled to his feet Nol shouted and, once upright, he held his back. “What in the name of all that is Holy is going on?”

“Would it be fair to say that all you’ve been through this week or so could have taken its toll on the health of your soul?”

Nol pursed his lips as his knee flared with pain. He answered with a nod.

Farrada gestured up and down Nol’s body, “Well, now you can see how much of a toll.”

Struggling to keep up with the revelations, Nol swore then said, “This is ridiculous. I’m dreaming, nothing more.”

“NOL ARELDUR. IT WOULD GO BETTER FOR YOU IF YOU WOULD ACCEPT, FOR THE TIME BEING, THAT YOU ARE NOT DREAMING.”

Nol held his head as the speech of thousands of people speaking at once thundered into it, seeming to come from all around him at once; the echoes of single voices coming from different places for a short time after.

The Altmer looked around the room, and saw, stood behind the sofa in which he’d first opened his eyes was a female figure looking out through a window. Having stared longingly at that very form for so many years, he sighed and walked with a limp over to her.

“Ces, I’m not understanding anything at all. What is all this?”

“All of those years as people spent debating the truth of souls as entities within a body and now, only now do I find out it was all true.”

“Ces?”

A sigh escaped the soul-form of Cestra Areldur, “We’ve been given to know certain things,” Cestra gestured towards Farrada, “it comes with the condition I’m afraid.” She smiled a weak smile.

“Condition?”

The Once-Cestra tilted her head and raised her eyebrows.

“Oh no. Nonono.” Nol shook his head and started panting. The Almost-Fleet Admiral’s knees gave way, but before he could hit the floor, the Once-Miitr caught him, lifted Nol back up and pinned him to the side of the window with one hand. “How?”

Cestra turned to look out of the window again. “I fought Tcheet. I lost.”

There was a pause; then she continued, “This room should not exist. It is being held together by something that should, by all rights, have nothing to do with anything like this. And I find myself angry at the Universe that even in the realm of the infinite, corruption of the innocent happens.”

The soul once known as Cestra Areldur looked Nol in the eye, “When we die, the Harn’ashall come to you and offer you three choices – come, wait or stay. Pass over to Aetherius; wait for some very specific one or for some specific event, at which point the Harn’ashall will come and throw you into Aetherius...Or stay...You really don’t want to stay Nol.” Cestra shook her head. “You’d think it would be brilliant to stay and walk through walls, watching people.” The former Arch-Mage waggled her eyebrows, then a dark look crossed over her face, “Doesn’t work like that. You wind up wandering Nirn for countless years, until you forget who you are and your last conscious thought will be ‘Hide in the dark places’.”

Nol frowned and a confused look came to his face.

“Ghosts dumbass.” Said Farrada, “Remember all those stories that’d come back from the Marines about the ghosts or wraiths or worse in the ruins we ran into? They were people once. King or peasant; Mage, knight or stable-boy; it doesn’t matter. You forget who you are eventually; and then it doesn’t matter. Or didn’t you ever think that far about it?”

“People who forgot who they were, Nol.”

“So what, you’re both waiting for...What? or Who?”

Cestra shook her head, Farrada said, “I was quite happy waiting thank you, before I was dragged here and given over to solidity again and walking and...Hunger actually...It’s been some time since I’ve eaten anything. But no, seems someone out there quite thinks you’re important and so,” Farrada caught Cestra’s eye, “we are back to make sure you get out of this in one piece.”

“So what do these things, whatever you said - Harn’ashall was it? - have to do with anything?” Nol asked.

“Everything.” Was the reply.

Cestra put her left hand to the window and Nol jumped back a little as he realised a gigantic finger was touching the outside. He stepped forward and tried to see around the finger, but the only thing he could see in the swirling multicoloured outside was the suggestion of immense wings.

Suddenly, so suddenly that even the former Cestra jumped, the multitudinous voices chorused, “TIME!”

She sighed and put her hand to where Nol’s heart would be, were he, in this place, alive.

Farrada spoke first, “Nol, very soon, you will be given a great task. You must see it through. Many great things on and beyond Nirn are dependent on your seeing it through, no matter what.”

“But-”

“Nol. You have to trust us.” Said Cestra.

“But I can’t trust you.”

“What?” the Once-Cestra and Once-Farrada looked at each other.

“You’re not the people that I trusted are you? You’re the reflections of them.”

“Nol.” The Once-Cestra looked hurt and made a disgusted noise. “Bet you’d have never questioned once if they’d sent Koyree would you?”

There was a pause as Nol looked at Cestra with his one open eye.

“KOYREE ARELDUR COULD NOT BE BROUGHT.”

“Of course not,” said Nol, as he relaxed the wince brought on by the speech.

“KOYREE ARELDUR IS CURRENTLY HEADING SOUTH ON THE DASARTIC SEA, SOUTH OF DUSK.”

“She’s alive?!”

“CURRENTLY, YES.”

Nol suddenly felt his legs stronger and stood up straighter. He knocked Farrada’s arm down.

“Suppose I do believe you. Why me?”

“Because the Architects of Fate have attached a great many threads in their web to you.” Said Farrada. “So many are now bound to your direction. And the preferred future outcome depends on you having accomplished the task ahead of you.”

“Preferred future outcome?!” Nol mocked, “Who’s preferred outcome. And what happens if I don’t? And, Miitr, that sentence pretty much proves you’re not my Miitr.”

“THE WORLD AS YOU KNOW IT WILL HAVE NO FUTURE IF YOU DO NOT SUCCEED.”

“Dear Gods.” Nol shook his head then tipped it back to lean it on the wall, “This is too much. In one week, I’ve lost my daughter, my friends, my career, my freedom and now – apparently – the woman I have loved, at times, more than life itself. And yet, somehow, even after all that, I’m supposed to have the strength to save the world? I cannot do this.”

“The others will save the world, all you need to do is your part.” Said the Once-Miitr. “And maybe I’m not the Miitr that once loved you as a son, I’m now so much more,” he raised an eyebrow, “or less.”

“Others?” Nol said with a catch in his voice at Miitr’s words.

“That doesn’t matter; just do what you have to do Nol.” Said Cestra, sharply. “You are about to be given a rare and dangerous form of Divine Magic, dating back to the Era of Awakening, when the Divines first put – for whatever reasons – souls into beings. The Soulhale is like a shield, it will keep you from...” the soul of Cestra paused and gestured at Nol’s damaged appearance, “This.”

“Dangerous how, exactly?”

Cestra opened her mouth to speak when the celestial voices cried “TIME!” again.

Cestra looked hunted for a moment turned her head slightly, knitted her eyebrows in apology and her hand was bathed in pure, white light.

Nol had one brief moment of seeing that the light was travelling along her arms, from where the Once-Cestra had her hand on the window, at the point where the huge finger touched the other side; then he started to burn, and there was nothing but heat and light.



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



No longer the shade of the man, Nol Areldur stood strong before the great-souls, “What are you waiting for, Miitr?” for now, he believed.

“The unravelling of Ofwysyn Tcheet’s Empire. It has already begun. It makes me laugh.” The Once-Miitr Farrada said.

“Already begun?”

“Yes. The Koyree lie was just one of many. He is surrounded by lies that are slowly bleeding the life out of the Thalmor; it really is a beautiful thing to behold.”

Nol Areldur shook hands for the last time with the man he once counted as friend, mentor, Commander and, in his heart at least, father.

Then, Nol Areldur beheld the woman he had loved for so long, “Are you waiting for...Anyone?”

Cestra looked down, “I had forgotten who I was years ago Nol. And then you come along again...No, the Harn’ashall will be taking me over. I was Arch-Mage of the University of The Isles, a Commander of the Order of The Lamp. I would be failing in my duty if I did not go and see what lies beyond. I may not be able to come back, but I can damned well try to be the first to manage it properly.” She smirked, “And if it’s not me, then we can be damned sure it’ll be Koyree.” Then she laughed and Nol felt warmth where his heart would be.

“I love you Cestra.”

“I love you too Nol, I always have.”

“TIME!”



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



As the Fleet Admiral’s soul faded from the room, Miitr Farrada quickly stood in front of Nol and said, “Trust the Bosmer, he’s not all he seems.”

A frown was all the indication that the former Fleet Admiral had heard.

And then the room was gone.

The Once-Miitr Farrada saw the brief suggestion of a hand on Cestra Areldur’s shoulder, then white light and she was gone.

The once Oversaar of the Altmer Navy found himself on the docks in Alinor.

The shade walked up to Nol’s flagship, the recently arrived The Pride of Alinor. Walking through the crowd of crew, some being escorted off the ship in chains, some carried off on trolleys.

He ran a hand along the ship’s panelling as he went along the corridors, not that he could feel anything anymore; the ship, however, seemed to appreciate the gesture.



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



Finding himself in the depths of the engine room, the Once-Miitr stood in the heart of the ship watching a figure standing with his hand on the door-frame, looking as if he was trying to gauge how much time he had.

Calling on the spirit of the ship to help, Farrada fought to make himself visible to the man.

The figure jumped as he saw, but then walked closer with a disbelieving look on his face, “Laddie?” he said.

Miitr put his finger to his lips in the gesture of “Ssshh.” then pointed to a small component on the engines.

“Ha! Even dead yer a wiley ba$tard. Good lad.”

The Miitr-shade vanished from view.

The former Oversaar watched as the man pulled something from the engine and the sounds of power stopped.

Then there was shouting, and a restraining, and a dragging away.

The Once-Miitr put his hand to the heart of the ship and said, “Sleep little lady. I won’t let anyone hurt you. You’ll be back soon enough.”



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



Relatively speaking, nearby, the Androform stood and looked at her sister Neerlah, and said, “Well, it’s done.”

“This had better work Arrai,” said Myrrl from somewhere behind her. “I would so hate to think you were wrong.” She heard him leave, the veiled threat noted.



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



Did I perform your wishes to your satisfaction my lady Arrai? Harn’ashall-Ka thought.

“Very much so, my friend, very much so.”

May I ask one thing, my lady?

“Of course.”

May I avail myself of Magnus’ roar once more? I am feeling...A little weak.

“Take some time Harn’ashall-Ka, you have more than earned it.”

My thanks, my lady.



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



Once more beyond the bow-shock, the Harn’ashall hung in space and spread his mighty wings to catch Magnus’ rage.



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



“Areldur!!...Fleet Admiral!!”

“Maircaln?..Ow...Stop slapping me, I’m awake!”

“I’m sorry, there’s been an incident. You were paralyzed.”

“Yes, I noticed that.”

“I will be back to check on you, but you’d best take this. It’s your regular medicine, you’re due it.”

“Oh no, I won’t be needing that anymore. Things just got a little...clearer.”

“That’s as maybe, but there’s still your healing to...What the hells?”

“Problem?”

“What the f-”



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

This post has been edited by McBadgere: Sep 5 2012, 01:49 PM

[mALX]

*

The opening section of this chapter was fantastic, and a great set up for what's to come!

This was visionary, loved the concept!:

Cestra turned to look out of the window again. “I fought Tcheet. I lost.”

There was a pause; then she continued, “This room should not exist. It is being held together by something that should, by all rights, have nothing to do with anything like this. And I find myself angry at the Universe that even in the realm of the infinite, corruption of the innocent happens.”

Trust the Bosmer, he’s not all he seems.”

WOO HOO !!!! Trellanwr! Now we'll find out what that beginning passage meant last chapter!

I have to say, this is up with my favorite chapters! Awesome Write!


*

[Acadian]

Yay! Nol learns that Koyree is still alive! I’m sure that makes for one happy, albeit confused, Fleet Admiral.

[Colonel Mustard]

So there's a meeting with a ghost in room that dfies the laws of physics. That's certainly a scene you don't read every day, I'll give it that.

And that scene certainly opens up several interesting possibilities for the story. Nol learns that Koyree is still alive and that Trellanwyr might be a possible ally. And if those two put together their resources, then there's going to troublesome days ahead for the Thalmor. Troublesome days indeed...

[Grits]

Koyree is alive, but Cestra is dead. That was a lot for Nol to take in, but now he’ll be ready to face what’s coming. And now we know what Nol already knew when Trellanwr was apologizing, if I have my times straight.

It’s great to see parts filling in other parts. This whole meeting that shouldn't be possible was inspired!

I love how you ended with Maircaln’s exclamation! Maybe Nol’s knees don’t hurt so much anymore, at least for now.

[jack cloudy]

Well, that explains alot. Add one more to the list of people who love the stellar symbolism and the ferryman.


Oh, and getting back to our lovely semi-incorporeal shopkeep. I thought the toy was a remote control at first.