Gaenor: Reloaded Options

[jack cloudy]

He's totally nuts.

Nice updates. I can't wait to see what happens next.

[mplantinga]

I've been following this story for a long time, and I'm excited to see new updates. It sounds like we are rapidly approaching the "final battle;" if so, I'm quite excited, although I will be sad to see the story end. I will continue to look forward to new updates.

[ShraX]

It was night and the week-long smoldering left the skies choked in black smog. The moons of Azura, Her Eyes, grew dry and cracked, and with shadows were closed, unable to bear the sight any longer. As was now well known to all Tamriel, Valenwood in its entirety had been sundered, and over the past days since its destruction, the sun had been washed of color, leaving a grey light which hung in mourning of its Tree. The rain was hot after falling through the searing wall of ash above and only added to the drudgery as Gaenor and the force at his command marched toward the center of his homeland. Soldier's voices could be heard between the hard slogging into the damp ruin.

"From out near Bruma I was picking seeds when I saw it; a great pillar of smoke, bigger than anything that far off that ever filled my vision. It was huge, and in a few minutes the sound arrived at my ears.. one 'boom', out of a nightmare."

"Some of the others were in the City at the time, they say. I was on duty in the palace, and I heard it too.. three windows that faced Valenwood's direction shattered, and the halls became uncomfortably warm. I'm lucky not to have been injured by the glass shards."

"This 'Iranon' is news to me, but everyone's heard about Garonar, the Lord of Fire. They say he can take your very soul and add it to his own twisted essence. How we're going to defeat him is beyond me.. but I'd give anything for the Empire."

They acted more as a curious audience to the scene rather than an army, but no one blamed them. Such measures of death could not be fit on any scale. They truly did not know how to act, and remained in awe for the two days it took them to reach the center of the country. It was difficult to sleep as they brought no bedrolls or supplies of any kind, save for what Naztheril carried from the nomad camp in Elswyr. They were hungry, and most of the food, which was enough for the two travellers as was the only amount they expected to need, was reserved for Gaenor. No one asked how he lost his left arm, but they had the sense to respect his unusually large appetite to make up for the energy and blood he was still replenishing.

The Bosmer directed himself to the Prince after having had his fill of listening to these peoples' discussions on their grave situation and surroundings.

"Tell me your name, Prince."

"Garen Septim, Son of Uriel Septim, Fourth Heir to the Cyrodiilic Empire and humble servant of Tamriel. My apologies for not introducing myself properly earlier.. it really never occurred to me. I suppose I expected Azura to have told you my name, but the Daedra Princes are a bit eccentric, no? Probably just ordered you to my hideaway and hurried you along.. I am no stranger to the communing with Gods, you know."

Garen was presumably on edge at being faced with such an ordeal in Gaenor's mind. 'Then again, he could likely just be your average, talkative royalty,' he thought. He lowered his voice and spoke again, "Your army is understandably negative about all this.. I have my doubts as well." The Prince managed a short chuckle and responded, "As would all who are so foolishly brave as we in such times. I know I hide my nervousness, but be assured that I will do whatever is necessary to put this threat to an end."

They stopped and the clattering of metal was hushed by a breath of wind, sharp as a spear and howling past the looming stump which marked the death of the Sun Tree. "There is not 'an' end to this...perversion of life, Prince," said the elf with seething contempt.

"This will be one end, singular and absolute. This end will be his."

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[ShraX]

Scaling the wide stump was more difficult for the iron-clad soldiers than it was for Gaenor, and even his companion displayed masterful climbing skill and found himself standing with the Bosmer, facing their wooden battleground. The air was especially thick, and the elf's command for the rest to catch him up was muffled. He and Naztheril continued westward for a short while before they noticed its silhouette in the clear horizon ahead; it was the forge, and the two halves of the anvil towered over the tables and trough around them. Gaenor unsheathed his Blade and turned to his friend. He had made a decision.

"It was the pain that changed me, Naztheril. My sister taken, Terenius slain, my home burned, our forests torched.. and all I have for it is this stump under my shoulder, these scars on my back, and my heart in shreds. I will never be as I was, and not even the destruction of my enemies will fix what has happened.. but it will prevent such things from occurring in the future. You can do nothing, but you are not useless. Being at my side during these hardships has helped me, although I cannot display my gratitude, and I thank you and call you brother."

The Beast nodded respectfully and didn't say a word, and gave him Valenwood's national salute, throwing his right fist to his chest and standing tall. They both realized Gaenor would not be guaranteed his life from then on, but only that the evil lurking in that place would be purged. The elf faced the forge and walked toward it steadily, unknowingly exhibiting the many scrapes and wounds on the backs of his legs and ankles from trudging through the wastes.

The remainder of the Prince's army had reached the top of the stump and marched onward to meet Naztheril shortly after the Bosmer left his sight. He turned to Garen and informed him of his companion. "He has chosen to face them alone without Imperial steel." The Prince was shocked, "But what of our strategy? We were to charge them with.. gah, why would he challenge them by himself?! Come, people of Cyrodiil," he called out behind him, "we must aid Gaenor in this battle!" He led the attack and advanced on the forge with great speed, his army following him up with swords in hand.

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[ShraX]

"And there it is.. I've not seen it in quite some time. How hath it treated thee, Gaenor? How hath ye it treated? I can see you two hath fused into one over time.. just as what happened to me. But you see, my Master bid me endow it unto Henar.. my Master here." He displayed his sword in both hands and closed his eyes with a smile. "Thou hath no villain in Garonar any longer, for he is mine now, see? I control him now." He stood atop the anvil, each leg on a half. "You see your combatant, elf. I am Tamriel's enemy. You burn for my death, and this is understandable.. and for reasons of my own, I wish to see you fall. Let us wasteth time no longer.. tonight we give this land, for better or worse.. its victor."

Iranon launched himself into the air and crashed his sword into the hard wood where Gaenor was standing and slashed it around him in defense before rising once more. He simply stood there under the sheets of rain beating down, his weapon dangling from a limp arm, taking no particular battle stance. The Bosmer acknowledged Garonar's transformation and didn't question it; he felt no reason to request explanations. Garonar was never to return, now it was certain. His essence crushed and mangled into the blade Iranon now wielded, he was banished from all existence. The elf held the Blade out before him, his opponent's eyes widening. There was a loud clattering of metal armor to the east, and they both turned their attention to the Prince's army.

He revealed a bronze horn from under his tabard and blew with all his strength, rallying his force. "This is nonsense," laughed Iranon, and flew at the Bosmer who quickly blocked, sending ashes spurting from where the two swords collided. The stump caught them, and from them the dry air sprouted a wildfire, disconnecting the two fighters from the soldiers and Naztheril. "Gaenor! Your Blade will be ineffective!" The Argonian let out a strained cackle which turned to a hacking cough, and replied in a yell after spitting out a small puddle of mucus. "The Blade may carve through anything, fools! Only those of whom the wielder's heart would disallow any harm may deflect its power!" Gaenor and Naztheril then remembered the skeletal sentries; they were former guards of Valenwood. The Blade of Cinders did not affect them because Gaenor would never seek to slay his own people. "You defeated Olkair with my Blade, however," he continued over the roaring flames, "but keep in mind he hath abandoned any trait of the living long ago." His open hand shot up to the black clouds and clenched a fist. "Undeath take you!"

The putrid arms of Iranon's undead minions broke out from the stump and climbed onto its sleek surface, and charged toward the mortal army on the other side of the wall of fire. Prince Garen threw away the warhorn and unsheathed his sword. "For the Empire!" he cried, and his people roared with mixed bloodlust and fear as the ghouls advanced ever more quickly towards them, and the battle began.

The elf and necromancer fought on, never tiring and void to all distractions. The fire's intense heat, the searing rain from the clouds of ash above, the small war being waged not thirty paces away from the forge near which they clashed blades; all put out of their vision. The only purpose their presence served anymore was the destruction of the other, and nothing more. Iranon's frail appearance was deceptive, but Gaenor kept his mind clear and expected nothing less than a sword fight with the devil who destroyed his home. Every slice of the Blade forced together the Argonian's jaws and he grit his teeth in jealousy and rage. Glowing sparks leapt from each strike, and the Amulet awoke in its familiar blue light. Gaenor heard something between the thunder above. Iranon's sword moved slower, and left false copies of itself as it waved about at him.

"From blackness I call, and speak from emptiness the name of my foe from years past - Gaenor, Bosmer of Valenwood." He shook his head furiously and cleaved at his opponent, and the sword spoke again in muffled echoes. "Incapable of destroying you, with my amulet I placed upon your neck my insurance.. but your spirit proved too great in power, and overwhelmed was I. Betrayal I tasted from the hand of this fool who now wields my broken essence. He knows not of our past. I am undone, and as non-existence takes me I bid you.. be not wary. Believe my hallowed words and feel his sword cleave your flesh, impenetrable to its edge. Smite down this false servant of darkness and have your revenge. Unguarded it lies before you.. take it!"

The elf's eyes began to ache. Soon his enemy became a blur, and his steps unbalanced. The Argonian grunted with a dread grin, and he swiped ever more fiercely at the Bosmer. Gaenor blinked repeatedly and quickly wiped his brow before holding out the Blade in blind defense. He squinted hard and upon renewing his sight, the wild flames from within him burst free, engulfing his entire being in the untamed blaze of his very soul. Red embers shot out in every direction and consumed Iranon's vision. The rising silhouette of Gaenor fixed his eyes, and he held up his sword in hopelessness. The fiery elf spoke in many voices, and they set frozen all action around him.

"MAY FIRE AND LIGHT TAKE YOU, SPAWN OF OBLIVION, AND STEAL PEACE FROM YOUR GHOST FOR ETERNITY!"

The Blade of Cinders cracked as it spun vertically at unreal speeds before him, and it exploded with a clap of flames, boring itself into Iranon's forehead where the Amulet's light shone. The red fires dispersed from the Bosmer, now singed of clothing, and both he and the Argonian's corpse toppled to the damp ground. The Blade was destroyed, and the sword made from Garonar's idol turned promptly into black dust, and was carried off into nothingness with the shrill wind. The necromancer defeated at last, his minions crumpled apart and fell, leaving the uproarious cheers of the soldiers and Garen Septim, and Naztheril. He stood in a bewildered stupor, and he sensed his friend's life leaving Tamriel unlike he would ever have expected: calm, pure, and free at last. Gaenor had sacrificed his physical self so he, and all the land, may wrest their shackles of darkness from their wrists and become new.

The Beast took longer than the army to return to Cyrodiil, and he cried until exhaustion forced him into sleep. Gaenor was dead, and he could imagine no ceremony to perform in which to honor such greatness. He lay alone in the waning downpour, clutching the Amulet, grateful beyond words or action to have ever known this elf whom he once called friend.

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This post has been edited by ShraX: May 5 2006, 04:52 AM

[ShraX]

Iranon's corpse turned loose and broke apart with the rain, and by morning, naught but his cloak remained. Miraculously, the skies over Valenwood cleared overnight, and the sun's still-grey light warmed the land. Naztheril wrapped carefully the body of Gaenor, and with a heavy heart, carried it with him to an old, familiar site.

Although the trees stood lifeless and black around him, he recognized the village; it was Ebon Ro, and the flowervines adorning the trunk of Gaenor's home would be in full bloom. He spoke quietly and softly to the cradled elf in his arms, and prayed to His Lady Azura for his spirit's safe arrival to Her Kingdom. He laid him down on a cleared space of ash, turned, and left knowing his body would join the earth and nourish new life to regrow the Sun Tree.. and two years later, a seedling would sprout from the Tree's stump with the promise of its rebirth.

As for Naztheril, he would wander Tamriel for the remainder of his days as a mortal man. With Valenwood razed, his link to nature was severed, and the ability to shift into The Beast of the Night Sky was lost to him. He discovered his new mortality and accepted it in time, but avoided civilization on most days, as he was never able to leave behind the depression over his lost companion. His death was of old age half a century later, and Azura took him in peace.

Those that made up the Prince's army that night were the only survivors of Olkair Henar's purging of Cyrodiil, and so they worked to rebuild their once mighty nation, and Garen was crowned Emperor as Uriel was presumed killed by the undead menace.

The Bosmer of Valenwood were said to have been born of the trees in ancient days, and this myth was proved fact in the years after its destruction. As the Sun Tree grew ever larger, the ruin around it sank into the dirt and was consumed, and with its roots replenished of life-giving energy, gave rise to the lush, green forests it once boasted, and from them, the Bosmeri race would be grown anew.

Gaenor's name was passed down into the ages with stories of his triumphs, near defeats, and epic adventures since first leaving Mara's Hole In The Wall in Sadrith Mora. He was proclaimed to be one of the elite few named Grand Hero to Tamriel, and each year, on the night of his selfless death, a great celebration would be held in his honor, and to commemorate the sacrifice he gave to defeat the evil that threatened the land. He set himself free, lifted the dark curse that shadowed his world, and was remembered for all time as: Gaenor, Champion of Fire and Light

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The End

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I thank those who've been reading this series about Gaenor and I appreciate all feedback I've received, "good" and "bad". I also apologize for my unexplained, year-long absence, but please be satisfied in knowing it was a necessary break. I'll be back here eventually.. and next time, I want some hardcore criticism!

[mplantinga]

I will admit to mixed feelings at the end of this masterpiece: I am sad to know that there will be no more additions to this story, but also thrilled and awed by its amazing ending. I, for one, can forgive you for your mid-stream absence, especially because you did come back to complete the epic. Thanks for sharing your amazing talents; I hope that one day, you will return and compose for us another modern marvel of linguistic creativity.

[treydog]

What a magnificent ending to a magnificent story. Somewhere before, I used the word "epic" to describe this tale- that comment stands. I thank you for sharing your vision and your talent.

[minque]

Me too will express my gratitude to having had the opportunity to read this wonderfully written story. Believe me I look at Gaenor with different eyes now!

I do hope you will return again and share your writing-talent with us once more!

Thank you ShraX!

[Kiln]

Great end to it mate, I too have followed this for some time and I'm glad to see that you finally finished it. Though I am sad as well because I know there will be no more, I am glad that you have shared your talents with us and hope you will again in the future.

Great job with a great story!