Prolouge

Ernand Leoriane was greeted to his first sight of the Imperial City as he, along with his escort, crested over Brena's Hill, giving them an unparalleled view of the expansive rain-forest of the Nibenay Valley. The colossal Whitegold Tower, its silvered spire shimmering in the sun, gave promise to splendor. As a Junior Councilman of the Elder Council, Ernand would soon be enjoying that most marvelous of settlements. But the Imperial City wasn't the only site to behold in the great valley of Nibenay. From his perch atop Brena's Hill, the young Councilman could make out splendid villas of alabaster and limestone that belonged to wealthy nobles and Senior Councilors. The great Lake Rumare and its artery, the River Niben, could also be gazed at.

Sir Renard Liseux, the captain of Ernand's guards, moved his horse alongside his master's. "Your Grace, Chorrol is only another hour's ride from here. Would it please you if we bedded down there for the night?" Looking up, Ernand could clearly discern Masser and Secunda, and a few of the brighter stars. The Sun was only visible as a sliver of light on the western horizon. Although he would have preferred if they continued on their journey, traveling by torch-light if need be, Ernand knew that while his men would follow him, they wouldn't like him very much afterwards.

"Chorrol should be fine, Renard." Ernand could tell Renard was pleased by the grin that spread across his face. Signaling to the men, Renard spurred his horse back into formation around Ernand, and they proceeded to Chorrol. A Colovian town, Chorrol was situated in the Highlands on the border with Hammerfell. Founded in the 2703 year of the First Era by Kantus Jerril, the town's first Count. The city itself was rustic, to Ernand resembling the town in High Rock he was born in. Its timber structures were simple, square buildings with one or two floors. Silver Mining was Chorrol's primary trade, but the sheep and goat trade was always booming.

Twilight came and went by the time Ernand and his guards passed through the gates of Chorrol. A sleepy guard pointed them in the direction of the town's inn. It was fortunate that Chorrol was a very simple town, and that the inn received such a prominent position; right off the square. Passing up through the lane, Ernand couldn't help but admire the massive oak-tree that overshadowed the largest of Chorrol's buildings. Dismounting and hitching his horse, Ernand watched his guards tramp into the taproom. He followed more slowly, taking a seat in a corner. After the bar-wench had brought him his beverage, he was joined by Renard. "This isn't exactly the finest of places, eh, Renard?"

"No, sir, it is not," Renard indulged his master, feeling that a Councilman would think any place is trash, "Reminds me of home though, does it not?"

"Aye, that's true. Kambria bears a strong resemblance to this place. Chorrol is certainly warmer, though!" Both men laughed. "Do you think it will rain tonight," Ernand asked as he took a sip of his craythur, "Those clouds looked rather mean."

Renard tapped his chin with his forefinger in thought. "It could. We did have a light sprinkle last night, so it wouldn't be strange if we got some of the water up here in the Highlands."

"Should I expect a delay in travel?"

Renard grimaced. He knew Ernand wanted to get to the Imperial City so he could begin his career, and live the life of Nibenean luxury. Damn...I would be impatient, too, Renard thought to himself. As an older man, however, Renard could look on luxury as a reward, where as he saw Ernand as wanting the luxury as an entitlement, he was a member of the Elder Council after all. "Ernand," Renard rarely used his master's Imperialized name, preferring the formal 'sir' or, in private, his given name of Lochlainn, "How old are you?"

Ernand raised an eyebrow, but answered. "Seven-and-Twenty. Why?"

"You got your whole life ahead of you. Don't let a little luxury spoil you to the rest of the world."

"What makes you think it will?" Indignant, a hard edge crept into Ernand's voice, "I can assure you, Renard, that a Nibenean lifestyle will not 'spoil' me, as you put it." He stood from his seat abruptly, "I must bid you goodnight, Renard. I expect to leave early tomorrow, so be ready to leave by sunrise." With that, Ernand turned on his toe and left the taproom, leaving Renard sitting alone.

"Of course, Councilor. Your will is my command."


His entrance into the Imperial City was even greater that he imagined it would be. At the bridge, Ernand and his escort were met by the other two members of High Rock's councilors. They greeted their new compatriot with much warmth, proclaiming that High Rock was well served by having the scion of the Leoriane as a member of the Elder Council. Ernand in turn acknowledged their greetings with a smile, but had to ask where his benefactor, Ria Silmane, was.

"She had business to do for the Emperor, Ernand. As you know, that traitor, Tharn, was executed some months ago. For a time, the position of Imperial Battle Mage was empty, left vacant by Tharn's death. Emperor Uriel, in his wisdom, had Madame Silmane appointed in his place. We hardly see her anymore; always off doing one thing or another for His Majesty." Ernand nodded that he understood, but inwardly he wished that Ria had been their to see his entrance into the Imperial City.

The councilors escorted Ernand and his guard through the streets, giving them a condensed tour of the Imperial City. With the air crisp and cold, the councilors cut the tour short when they arrived in the Elven Gardens District. They pointed out to him the location of the High Rock Councilor's Manor, and then left the younger man for their own villas in the country-side.

"Unpack our belongings," Ernand told his guards, "I'm going to have a rest." The manor was a small, but comfortable, building of three stories. The lowest floor was a large hall made from receiving guests and dining. The second floor was dedicated to housing the occupant’s personal guard. And the third floor was the Councilor's Chamber. It was here that Ernand found himself after he mounted the stairs.

The chamber was very spacious. A large, four-poster bed was against the wall for sleeping. There were numerous coffers and chests, and their was even a writing desk. It was a object on the desk that first drew Ernand's attention, and he moved to investigate. The object was a small letter written on tan paper. Picking it up, Ernand read--

To his most Esteemed Lordship, Councilor Ernand Leoriane
Greetings,

I apologize in advance for not being able to greet you on your entrance into the city. The Emperor had a very important matter for me to look into, and I was unable to get out of it. I promise that we will soon see each other. If not in private than in the Palace.

Your Friend,
Ria Silmane, Imperial Battle Mage

Ernand smiled at Ria's letter and put it back onto the desk. Moving over to a nearby shutter, he flung it open to gaze out over the Imperial City. Things were good.

I am so glad you are bringing this here! Your ability to draw intrigue with a few words placed just right and your attention to detail are Awesome !!

A pretty good opening, I'll be intrested to see what happens,

best of luck

Good to see this here. I remember it somewhat when you first posted it. It was worth keeping an eye on.

I liked the opening here, and the idea of a young man coming to the Imperial City to serve on the Elder Council is new to me.

I'm looking forward to more!

Chapter One: Unveiling

The Grand Solar, where the Elder Council met, was charged with tension. Papers lay strewn across the great, round, table or had been flung to the ground during the heat of a the argument that had only just ended. Chancellor Ocato was over by Skyrim's delegates who sat fuming; glaring at High Rock and Hammerfell's councilors.

Ernand could feel their antagonism just through their gaze, and it did not make him comfortable. He sat in his seat, fiddling with papers as he thought back on the events of the session. It had started off fine. The gathered councilors had all met in the Grand Solar to discuss the War of Bendr-Mahk, as it was coming to be called. Skyrim had hinted that they wanted to resolve the dispute in council if they could, and High Rock's delegates had only been too happy to oblige. The two parties had been affable towards each other; promises and offers thrown back and forth politely as they sought to end the bloodshed that had erupted along Hammerfell and Skyrim's border. The affability had ended, however, with the arrival of the Ra'Gada councilors.

Unlike the Bretons, who were inclined towards peace, the delegates from Hammerfell had blown into session with threats and harsh words. This lack of tact sparked the temper of the Nords, and soon the entire session was in disarray. The rapport that the Bretons had built up with their cousins was burning down around them.



Chancellor Ocato had called a recess and Ernand took the chance to escape the confines of the Grand Solar. Wandering through the halls of the Imperial Palace, Ernand poked his nose into the kitchens. The cooks were only too happy to serve a member of the Elder Council. Provided with cider and a meat-marrow pasty, the young man spent a few minutes filling his stomach before he set back to his wanderings. The Imperial Guards, with their daikatanas and flashy armor, gave him hard looks as he walked by, even crossing their weapons at certain corridors or passage ways. This amused the young councilor, for what could a lone Breton do? He then remembered Jagar Tharn, and understood why these guardsmen were so vigilant.

Bringing the long folds of his robe into the crook of his arm, Ernand stopped one of the patrolling guards. "Excuse me, sir. But I was wondering if, perchance, you could point me in the direction of the office of the Imperial Battle Mage?"

The guard gave Ernand a hard stare before answering, convincing himself that this fair man didn't pose a threat. "Lady Silmane's offices are on the second floor...my lord." The guard had added the title in recognition of Ernand's clothing. "Just follow this passageway," he indicated to his left, "And then up the stairs. Take a left at the top and they will lead directly to the Mistress' office." As Ernand was turning away, the guard clasped onto his shoulder, "Might I ask what business you have with Lady Silmane?"

Ernand could read the suspicion in the guard's eyes. Looking at it through the lawman's view, the councilor could see why the guard would be so suspicious. A lone man wandering through the halls of the Imperial Palace, then asking where the Imperial Battle Mage was, yes, it was not something that average people did. But Ernand was not an average person. "I am an old friend of hers. You see," he removed the mailed hand from his shoulder, "It was Ria's patronage that had the Emperor appoint me to the Elder Council." The shocked look on the guard's face was enough to make Ernand laugh, and his laughter lingered even after had walked away.

Mounting the steps and coming to the top, Ernand took the left path and eventually came to a door marked by the daedric symbol for "magick". Knocking, Ernand waited until a pretty young girl opened the door. With round eyes, she looked up at Ernand and shyly spoke, "Yes? How can I help you?"

Ernand flashed the girl a white smile. "Is Lady Silmane in residence?" The girl nodded and let him into the foyer. The room was spacious. A desk was in the corner where another woman, this one much older, was busy copying papers into books. Benches lined the walls, and Ernand took a seat when the younger girl motioned for him to sit.

"Who should I tell Lady Silmane is asking to see her?"

"Tell her it is Ernand Leoriane, she'll know who I am." The girl nodded and disappeared through a door, leaving Ernand alone in the foyer except for the old woman. She looked up but once to give the intruder a look, a look which Ernand responded to with a too-polite smile and a nod of his head. The girl soon reappeared. She seemed flustered and refused to meet Ernand's eyes as she told him that Lady Silmane would meet with "His Lordship, Councilor Ernand". Ernand groaned at the way Ria mocked him with his own title; Getting up from the bench, and after rearranging the folds of his robe, Ernand followed the girl into Ria Silmane's office.

Ria Silmane looked up when they entered. "Hello, Lochlainn. It seems you are well."

Ernand took a seat across from her. "Why is it that every time we meet, you insist on calling me that archaic name?"

"Because, that is what your mother, may Mara assoil her, named you. It is your name."

"I stopped using it since my childhood. It doesn't fit in today’s society."

"A pity it doesn't." Ria motioned for the girl who led Ernand into the office. She whispered into the girl's ear then turned to her guest, "I'm sending Marina down to the buttery. Are you thirsty? Would you like wine?"

"No wine," Ernand said with a shake of his head, "Too early for that. Though if I could get a cider, that would be well appreciated." Ria nodded and sent Marina on her way, prompting Ernand to speak again. "I have noticed you have no men in your household. Are you holding a women's empowerment program here? Have I entered into the secret world of Woman?"

Ria gave a silvery laugh, "It's true, Lochlainn, that I staff my household with women. I only do so because they're smarter." The two friends shared a laugh before Ria asked, "Have you been practicing your spell-casting since we last parted?"

"Alas, I have not. I am no slouch, mind you, but I am no Syrabane."

"None of us are an equal to Syrabane, Lochlainn, except perhaps Tharn," she spat the apostate name out like a curse, "But even Tharn couldn't stand up to an executioner's axe. I remember at his trial and execution he kept proclaiming his innocence, claiming that he was not Jagar Tharn. What a sight!"

"How has his Majesty been since the attempt on his life?"

"He has been acting very strangely. The Uriel before was a kind man who bore great love for his people. But now...Did you know he ordered another tax hike across the continent?" Ernand shook his head, "Well, he did. I argued against it, but he didn't listen. He's been using the money gained from taxes to finance expeditions to discover old artifacts, instead of using the money to finance the Legions. Stendarr, half of our soldiers don't even wear full armor anymore. It's disgraceful!"

Marina came back in balancing a platter piled high with wafers and two mugs. Setting them down in the middle of Ria's desk, she served Ria first, then set Ernand's cider in front of him. Catching her hand in his, the councilor brought it to his lips in a very formal thank you. Red as a radish, the young maid fled the office, casting once last shy look over he shoulder before she closed the door. "Lochlainn, I would prefer if you didn't seduce members of my household."

Ernand gave Ria an impertinent grin, "She is very young. Seventeen maybe? I can only wonder."

"She is the daughter of an acquaintance of mine. Marina has been showing promise as a sorceress, so I took her into my household to give her some experience before I begin her apprenticeship. This is why I must ask that you refrain from a dalliance with her. She has had enough problems with men in her life; doesn't need you to spoil men forever to her."

"Ria, you wound me."

"So," Ria took a sip of her wine, "How are you enjoying the city?"

"The city is marvelous. The council less so."

"Yes, I could hear your peers bellowing at each other even from here. So I'm guessing no accord was reached?"

"Well, Ocato called a recess, but I do not honestly believe peace will be made today. If it was just High Rock and Skyrim, the war wouldn't have drug on so long," Ernand gave a regretful sigh, "But those damn Ra'Gada have to insult the Nords at every turn. Say what you will of Nords, but at least they are honest in their dealings."

"So are Redguards, Lochlainn. It's you Bretons that are the liars." Both laughed. The two friends passed another hour together before Ernand took his leave, Ria promising to meet him sometime at his manor within a few days. As he was leaving, Ernand caught Ria's maid, Marina, staring at him. He locked his blue eyes with her brown then gave a courtly bow in her direction, prompting another flush into her cheeks.

When Ernand left, the old woman that had been copying script looked at Marina with great severity. "Don't even think about it."



The council that was convened to discuss a resolution to the War of Bendr-Mahk was dissolved due to the refusal of the Nords to go any further until the Ra'Gada apologized for their rudeness. The Ra'Gada, in turn, refused to apologize until the Nords yielded back to Hammerfell the eastern portion of Dragonstar, something the Nords refused to do. The Bretons, finally fed up with the squabbling, voted for Ocata to dissolve the council to meet at a later time. Ocato was only to happy to agree, setting the date for the next meeting a week later.

Three days after the break up of the council, Ernand was sleeping in his chambers. The cold, night air was refused entry in his chambers by a smoking hearth. Unfortunately, servants were not barred from his bedroom, and he was rudely awakened when an attendant woke him, saying that the Lady Silmane was waiting at the bottom of the stair-well. Swearing, Ernand rubbed his eyes and ordered the attendant to light some candles and bring Ria up to meet with him.

What in the name of Akatosh does she want?

When Ria was ushered into the chamber, Ernand had to do a double-take. The Ria before him looked haggard, and very afraid, so unlike the urbane sorceress he knew very well. When Ernand poured a goblet of mulled wine and thrust it into her hand, the amount of shaking it received testified to her nervousness. "Heaven's sake, Ria, sit down. What is wrong?"

"He's alive, Lochlainn, he's alive!"

"Quiet down." Ernand crept over to the door and looked out to make sure no servant was listening in. Assuring himself they were secure, he shut and bolted the door and turned back to Ria, "Who is alive?"

"Tharn!"

"That's impossible. You were at his execution. You saw Tharn's head come off his body."

"I don't know how he did it, but he did. That snake!"

"How did you discover this?"

Ria gulped down her wine; it did little to settle her nerves. "I was delivering some reports yesterday to the Emperor when I felt a very powerful presence coming from the Royal Chamber. I snuck a look and saw Tharn conversing with a shadowy figure. They were talking about bringing down the Battlespire, Ernand. Any doubts I may have had were dispelled when Tharn addressed the figure as "Lord Dagon". Uriel would never give credence to that foul daedroth, never!"

"I don't doubt you, Ria." Ernand was now just as shaken as Ria was. If Tharn had had her followed, then he would know that Ria had come to him with this information. The young councilor could already see his life bleeding away before him. "What did you do?"

"I shut the door, waited a few minutes, knocked, and heard Uriel's voice call me in. We discussed a new plan for funding the Legions, but I wasn't able to focus. I think Tharn knew I knew his secret, he kept looking at me." She finally broke then and proceeded to cry. Ernand moved over to her and wrapped his arms around her. "Oh, Lochlainn, what am I going to do?"

"Well, first you're going to stay her tonight. If what you say is true, then Tharn is probably just waiting to get you alone. You can use my bed, I'm awake anyway. I watch over you tonight." Moving away from Ria, he went over and opened a coffer and removed an object wrapped up in cloth. Removing the cloth, he drew a beautiful silver sword than shone with an enchantment. "While you sleep, I'll make sure than any unwelcome guest that enters here receives so brutal a death that Tharn will think twice about sending anyone again."

Nodding, Ria disrobed and slipped under the sheets. Ernand quenched all the candles but one, and took a position with his back again a wall that gave him a view of the entire room. If an assassin thought it could enter this chamber and live, it would do well to think differently.

Ah, the plot thickens!

Though I've read different versions of the simulacrum (including those in the TES Lore), I still find it a fascinating part of TES history and love reading any new version of it any day!

I will keep watching this thread!

More please.

Now this is the chapter that dug its hooks in me on the BGSF - and then I couldn't tear myself from the rest - SO glad you brought this here !!!!!!!

Chapter Two: Crime and Punishment[

Ria lay still in the bed, seeking to find a refuge in sleep. In the darkness, she could hear Ernand's breathing, and the occasional clang of his sword as he moved it about. The single candle that was set above the bed's headboard, gave off just enough light to make out the silhouette of her guardian. But that was all the candle could do. Ria had never been afraid of the dark before, not even in her childhood. As a child-prodigy to a powerful magician, she had studied the things that went bump in the night, and had learned not to fear them. But the feeling she had now was different. Tharn was no ghoul or goblin that mothers use to frighten their children, no, he was all too real.

Turning over to face the ceiling, she pulled the coverlets up over her chin. Feeling drowsy, she finally found sleep, and a mottled dream of dark colors and foreboding.


"Ria, wake up." Ernand shook Ria Silmane's shoulder, "The sun is high." Ria groaned as she turned to face away from him, muttering foul words under her breath. Laughing in spite of himself, he shook her again, "While I'm ecstatic to finally get you in my bed, there are more important things to take care today than sleeping." The combination of humor, and the reminder of the dangers that she faced, forced Ria's eyes open.

"What time is it," she asked in a groggy voice, "Is it past noon?"

Ernand sat down on the bed next to her, "No, the dial says it's just past nine. I sent a servant down for some food, and he should be back soon, so I suggest you get dressed. There is a long day ahead of you."

Casting Ernand a look to turn around, Ria flung the sheets off of her and rolled out of the bed. Walking on the tip of her toes on the cold, stone floor, she rummaged around until she found the clothes she had been wearing last night. In the chaos that had been last night, she had chosen to wear garments more suitable for a farmer than the imperious Imperial Battle Mage. Pulling the shirt down over her chest, she began to fumble with the chausses. The buckled was stuck, and she was so absorbed in releasing it that she failed to notice one of Ernand's servants enter into the chamber with a cart of food.

"Ria," Ernand put his hand over hers, "A shirt will satisfy the demands of decency for now." Dropping the chausses, Ria consented to having Ernand lead her over to the table where the servant was busy laying out utensils, plates, and napkins. Pulling out a chair, the councilor seated the half-clothed sorceress before stepping back to confer with his servant. "Thank you, Gaston. That will be all; I will serve Lady Silmane myself."

"Of course, your Grace." The servant stepped back, bowed, and then left the chamber, leaving Ernand and Ria alone again. An awkward silence developed when Ernand sat in the chair across from Ria. They avoided each others eyes, seeking to busy themselves with heaping food onto their plates. Using his knife, the councilor deftly sliced a sugar-glazed pasty into nine pieces, finding a sort of perverse amusement in cutting the delicacy into the number of the Divines.

"You know, Ria, I always knew that one way or another, you'd wind up in my bed," a humorless grin passed his lips, "Though it would have fulfilled all my dreams if I had been in it!"

Ria slammed her knife and fork onto the table, and glared at Ernand. "Now is not the time for lewd jokes, Lochlainn!"

"There you go with that name business again."

The Imperial Battle Mage began to shake, and her face turned a deep red. It was painfully apparent to Ernand that he had taken the joking to far. He had learned from his old tutors that it was not proper to make fun of anything when a person was loaded with stress, for even the slightest thing could provide the last thing needed to finally break the person's will. "Ria...."

"Lochlainn....You..." Ria got no further. Her face blanched, and tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. Finally overcome, the sorceress collapsed her face into her hands and began to weep. For herself, for the Empire, and especially for his Majesty, Emperor Uriel Septim VII. She blamed herself for not spotting Tharn's trickery before now, and lamented the fact that he had had almost nine years to secure his grip on the Imperial Throne. "Lochlainn," she sobbed, "Lochlainn, what am I going to do?"

Ernand leapt out of his chair and kneeled next to his friend. Of course, he had no idea for a course of action anymore than Ria did. It wasn't uncommon for members of the Elder Council to denounce an Emperor, in fact, that had happened numerous times in the past. But Ernand couldn't figure out how he could warn the council of the imposter. He couldn't very well walk in and proclaim, "The Emperor is a bad man! He has been using funds for stupid reasons! Oh, and by the way, he's actually Jagar Tharn in disguise!" No, the young man knew for certain that that course of action would never work. He would be laughed out of the council, his career in shambles, then likely meet a bloody end from one of the assassins that Tharn no doubt had at his beck and call.

"Lochlainn," Ria looked up, tears streaking her face, "I'm so...so sorry that I got you involved in this. You came here to further your career, and all I have done to help you is get you entangled in the Gods only know what."

"Eh," Ernand shrugged, "Council is boring anyway. This is much more fun." Ria laughed, or sobbed, he wasn't really sure, at his comment. "I think you should finish your breakfast and then I'll escort you back to the Palace. I think, for a little while, you should act like nothing has happened. Continue to serve that apostate as if he were your Emperor, and we'll come up with a plan later."

"Alright, if you think that is best." Ria wiped her eyes with a napkin and, under Ernand's watchful gaze, finished her meal. After refreshing herself and getting dressed, she followed the councilor out of the room and down to the first floor. Rounding up his guard and having horses saddled, he helped Ria to mount a horse. Swinging up into his own, he signaled for his men to move. They winded through the streets of the Elven Gardens, and then on into the Palace Garth, where Ernand and his men left Ria Silmane.



Ernand yawned loudly, earning him a prod in the ribs from his fellow councilor. “Pay attention, Leoriane,” he whispered fiercely, “You’re an Elder Councilor now, not a school-boy wanting to escape his lessons.”

“I think school would be more interesting than this,” Ernand joked, “I thought the council had been convened to discuss a resolution to the war? I didn’t know we would be discussing funding for a backwater legion in Morrowind.”

“It’s important. What if the Akaviri want revenge for our invasion years ago? They would come from the east, and Morrowind would be their first target. They already invaded it once! I know not much about that land, but if they could defeat Emperor Uriel V, may the gods assoil him, then we need all the defenses we can muster.”

“And this has nothing to do with the anti-Imperial sentiment that seems so prevalent in the land of the Dunmer?” Along with his question, Ernand motioned towards the delegates and councilors from that frontier province. On their faces they were deep scowls, and their eyes burned with hatred. “Seems to me,” Ernand said and shrugged, leaning back in his seat, “That we’re just exasperating things by sending more troops in.”

“But how can we enforce Imperial Law without the might of the Legion behind it?”

“I don’t know.” Ernand shrugged again, “But it seems to me that if we keep ramming Imperial culture down their throats, the Dunmer might decide to do something drastic.”

Unable to reach a consensus on the matter, Ernand and his fellow councilor watched as Chancellor Ocato ruled in favor of a surge of more soldiers into Morrowind. The Dunmer delegates ranted, cursed, and spat upon the ground. Their outrage was so great, that they even slipped into their own tongue.

Leaning over to the councilor he had been speaking to before, Ernand asked, “What does N’wah mean?”

This time it was his turn to shrug. “I’m not sure. I know it’s not something good though.”

“Ah, so normal council language then?”

The councilor glowered at Ernand, who grinned back unrepentantly.

“You had best learn to check your tongue in the future, Leoriane, it could get you into trouble.”



Ria had freshened herself up and dressed into more suitable clothing. She had been forced to fend off questions of her whereabouts the night before from her attendants, especially from Marina. Until that day, the Imperial Battle Mage hadn't known that her shy attendant also had spirit. When she finally broke and told them she had been visiting Councilor Ernand Leoriane, the girl's face had blanched, then turned beet-red. Turning on her heel, she had watched the young girl storm out of the chamber. This surprised all the women, for they hadn't known that Marina could get angry.

The afternoon passed without event.

Twilight had settled over the Imperial City just as Ria finished copying a report from a Legion general regarding the most recent outbreak of battles along the Hammerfell-Skyrim border. Knowing that the Emperor would be expecting these reports, she took them and stuck them into a folder. Getting up, she left her office and entered into the foyer. "Agnes," she addressed the old woman who was her secretary, "I'm going to go deliver these reports to his Majesty. Then I'll return home. You can leave now if you wish to."

"Of course, Lady Silmane."

The halls of the palace were empty except for a few patrolling guards. The echoes of her footsteps reverberated through the corridors, making it seem like she was being followed. Casting a look over her shoulder, she saw nothing. Speeding up despite this, she eventually reached the steps that led to the Emperor's quarters. As she was mounting them, she felt someone grasp her shoulder. Acting quickly, she flung the folder down and brought her hands up to cast a spell. But when the light from the torches lining the stairwell shone upon her assailants face, she brought them down. Before her, stood the short form of the Imperial Palace's resident Dunmer prince, Helseth.

"Gods, you scarred me half to death, Helseth." When the young Dunmer made no move to speak, Ria smiled and asked, "What are you doing about the halls at this hour? Where is your mother?"

"She is upstairs," he responded in the gruff voice of the Dunmer, "I'm waiting for her here. I'm sorry I frightened you."

Ria laughed, "Don't worry about that, Helseth. May I ask why Barenziah is above?"

"We're leaving tonight. My lady mother says we're going to go spend some time in the country side."

"You are very lucky. If you will excuse me, Helseth, I have to go see his Majesty." Bidding the Dunmer prince farewell, Ria mounted the steps. When she was halfway up, she almost collided with the Lady Barenziah. She looked flustered, her grey skin slightly dark than normal. She didn't stop to talk, but when Ria attempted to move by her, she whispered He used the Staff of Chaos. A chill went down the spine of the sorceress as she watched the Dunmer queen hurry down the stairs. Swallowing, Ria turned back and climbed the stairs to the top. When she entered into the Emperor's Chamber, her eyes had to adjust to the darkness. "Your Majesty? Are you here?"

"Yes, come in, Ria," came Uriel's voice from out of the darkness, "We have some things to discuss I take it?"

"Yes, your Majesty. I have some reports here from the border-"

"Now, now," Uriel interrupted her, "I know that's not why you're here!" She heard the Emperor snap his fingers and then all the candles and torches sparked and lit the room. There, sitting in a plush chair was a man that Ria once thought dead, the former Imperial Battle Mage, Jagar Tharn. "You look surprised, Ria," he still insisted on speaking with Uriel's voice, "But I don't think it's because you just found this out. No....You weren't expecting this reckoning so soon, were you?"

Ria shook her head. Swallowing with difficulty, she asked, "What have you done with the Emperor, Tharn? Did you kill him?"

"Think you that I am a fool? No, he and that bumbling Warhaft are somewhere safe and alive. I very well couldn't risk the Elder Council being warned by the Amulet of Kings, now could I?" Tharn stood from the chair and crossed to a table. There, he picked up a flagon of wine and poured two glasses. Taking these, he moved over to Ria, who stood frozen with her back to the door. Thrusting one of the glasses into her hand, he drained his own. "Now, what was it you wanted to tell me about the border?"

"Um...The truce has been broken." Ria didn't know what game her adversary was playing, but she felt the distinct feeling that whatever it was, he held all the cards. "Skyrim has led another foray into Hammerfell, and General Romulus says then even some of our soldiers have been involved in the-" Her voice was cut off when Tharn, moving unnaturally fast, grabbed her by the throat. She tried to escape, but any protests she could have made were being drained away, as was her very life.

"Yes, the legions are involved in the fighting, and soon all of Tamriel will erupt in war, no doubt. This empire will crumble, but I will still hold all the power." Tharn laughed when Ria tried to speak, gagging instead. "You've been wondering why I have been sending out parties to find artifacts, yes? The person who holds the means of power, has the power." Tharn's hand began to glow an ugly purple, and Ria's skin began to grey. "You've were a fine apprentice, Ria, and an excellent adjunct to me. But now it must come to an end. As for that friend of yours, that councilor from High Rock, he will be blamed for your death, and I'll have no choice but to bring him to trial. My agents are already hunting him down. Well," Tharn gave her one last grin, "I guess this is goodbye." His eyes hardened and the light around his hand grew brighter.

Her last thought before death was At least the villainous monologue is over. Ria Silmane was no more.



While discussion regarding the War of Bend’r-Mahk had been on the agenda for the day, the arguments about the Legion in Morrowind had dragged on far longer than it should have. The councilors of Morrowind had refused to back down on the issue, and that only served to make the problem worse. A stray Nord comment regarding an ancient rivalry had been taken as a mortal insult, and a majority of Morrowind’s delegates had to be removed from the Grand Solar.

Since the topic of the war was unable to be got to, the council had convened, Ocato making sure that all the councilors would be their tomorrow to discuss the troubling news from Hammerfell.

Ernand had taken the chance to call on Ria. When he entered the office, he kept getting looks from his friend’s attendants. When he caught Marina, the girl that had served him the day before, looking at him, Ernand had tried to ask where Ria was. However, the Breton girl just burst into tears and ran from him.

Ernand stood rooted in the middle of the antechamber for a few moments, thinking out loud, “Well that was odd. What did I do?”

“Oh, she’s just besotted with you,” Ernand turned his head to look at Ria’s aged secretary, “But since you’re seeing Lady Silmane, Marina knows she has no chance.”

Ernand quirked an eyebrow. “Huh? Seeing? I don’t what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t be coy, young man.” The old woman grinned and winked at him, “I may be old, but I know a tryst in the middle of the night when I see one.”

The cogs in Ernand brain finally started turning, and when they did his eyes widened in shock. “Oh. Oh! Ok, I get you. Um—So,” Ernand pulled on the collar of his robe, “Is it hot in here to you? Anyway, um….Do you know where she is?”

“She’s meeting with the Emperor right now. She may be awhile. I’ll tell her you stopped by.” To Ernand, it felt like his knees had turned to butter as he stepped out of the Imperial Battle Mage office, with the elderly secretary’s eyes twinkling behind him.



Night had fallen on the Imperial City.

The outhouse smelled rancid, but Ernand had little choice but to use it. The manor he was living in lacked a privy chamber, something he would have to remedy soon. After wiping and rearranging his clothes, he flung open the outhouse door and stepped out into the cold night. There, standing not five feet from the little structure stood two men. One held a club, and the other a rope. Lacking any weapon himself, Ernand could only use his voice to alert his guards, but he never got the chance.

His assailants moved quickly, clubbing him over the head and knocking him out. Quietly, they tied him up and carried him off.

Some fine writing indeed! Wonderfully rich descriptions and subtly imparted impressions.


I noted three tiny nits:
Prologue:
If not in private than {then?} in the Palace.

Ch 1:
Red as a radish, the young maid fled the office, casting once {one?} last shy look over he shoulder before she closed the door.

"Well, first you're going to stay her {here?} tonight.

Yes, apparently women are smarter but they still need a man to do the heavy lifting and to poke things with swords (O.K. that pun was definitely not intended).

I have never had the pleasure of playing Daggerfall but thanks to the Imperial Library I know who Ria Silmane and Jagar Tharn are. I skimmed over this once when I was lurking on the other board. Tonight I got a chance to sit down and really read it.

I like Ernand (or is it Lochlainn?) as a character, and Ria comes across as just contradictory enough to be a believable female character. You have set up your story well and left those of us with no practical experience of Daggerfall eager to know what happens next.

Quick question: Was Jagar Tharn really executed in the game?

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Woo Hoo Destri !!!!! ROFL

Me too! Makes more sense to me than outlines.

Good job explaining the relationship between the game Arena and your storyline. I'm somewhat familiar with the simulacrum from reading the Real Barenziah (fascinating pices of Lore, by the way), so I had pretty much figured things out. Your explanation confirms my thinking, so it's good to know!

Now, enough explaining and more telling. Rather, showing! More, please.

Loved it, when are you updating? Because I remember this part from the other forum

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I vaguely remember reading the Arena storyline some time ago. Meh.

This is sooooo much better! I am enjoying the web that is now becoming apparent!

More!

This is my fave chapter so far - SO in depth into Ria's state before she is killed - HUGE that you are doing this part of her life instead of just the ghost - AWESOME WRITE !!!!!!

I like the reworking of Arena's storyline. Never played it myself but from what I've read of it there wasn't the depth that other TES games had so it's perfect for the changes you're making. I like the subtle humour you drop into it too, quite refreshing.

Nice piece with building complexity, and a cameo for Barenziah

Splashes of hot color invaded the darkness that was Ernand's dreams. Deep reds and bright yellows spiraled into a sickening orange. Unconsciously, the young man struggled against the tide of color that threatened to drown him, seeking to return to the comforting shores of oblivion. Fighting, the color began to recede. Darker and darker it grew until, at last, Ernand had returned to the peace of shadows.

A loud slam jarred Ernand from his sleep. He snapped his eyes open, only to shut them tightly again when they were confronted with a burning light. While his eyelids kept the shine away from his eyes, it did little to actually get rid of it. When they finally adjusted, he opened them slightly to confront the reality of his situation. The searing light turned out to be nothing more than a lone candle that flickered weakly in the muted darkness that surrounded it. Rising from the damp floor, Ernand stumbled over to the beacon. Leaning against the platform that the candle sat on, he buried his head in his hands, wincing when he accidentally passed over a nasty cut on his forehead.

"Oh, yeah....That's infected...." Groaning, Ernand lifted himself up onto the platform, taking a seat next to the dying candle. Gently lifting the candle, he raised it high so it could light more of the room. It was not successful, but he was at least able to discern the character of his prison. It was a rather small room; the walls were damp, covered in fungus and grime. The floor was very much the same, and Ernand knew that, even in the low light, that his toga was incredibly dirty. Not far from him, to his right, was a door of thick metal bars. From beyond this barrier, he was able to hear the sounds of moving water, and the chittering of rats. Grimacing, Ernand questioned, "What is a jail cell doing in the sewers?"

"I do not know, Lochlainn."

Ernand screamed, and flung himself to the ground. In his panic, the candle sputtered out, shrouding the entire cell in darkness. It did not stay that way for long, however, because the room then filled with a bright, white light. Raising his head up and opening one eye, Ernand was met with the visage of his friend, Ria Silmane. Unlike a spell of Light, when propelled a small ball of brightness above the caster, the light that shined around Ria seemed to emanate directly from her. Shaking his head and scratching his eyes to see if he was just hallucinating, Ernand looked again, and Ria was still standing there, a look of deep melancholy on her ethereal face.

"Ria..." Ernand began carefully, "What are you doing here? Where am I?"

"You are imprisoned, deep below the Imperial City. You are being held here until your trial for murdering me."

"What?!" Ernand's mouth dropped in shock. "Murder? Wait..." He shut his eyes and shook his hands in front of him, "Let's take a step back." Taking a deep breath, Ernand spoke again, "So...You're...No longer among the living?"

"You say it as if you would offend me, Lochlainn. But yes, I am dead." The look of melancholy on her face became even worse, a sight that tore at Ernand's heart.

"But how? What happened? Did one of Tharn's assassins get to you?"

Ria shook her head. "No. Tharn himself did the deed. He drained the life right from my body. I know not how, but he has gained great power since he first started this simulacrum of his."

Ernand slumped back against a wall, staring vacantly into the air. He had some trouble processing the fact that Ria was dead, and that he was going to be blamed for her murder. But what he had the most trouble wrapping his mind around was why his friend was appearing to him now. Was it an attempt on her part to allow him to go to his grave in peace? No, Ria wouldn't do that sort of thing. A woman so lacking in sentimentality wouldn't bestir herself often to give a man peace. Gathering himself, Ernand tilted his head to look over at Ria. Even though he was sure no other person dwelt down in the hole he was in, he kept his voice at a loud whisper. "Ria...Can I ask why you are here?"

A brief smile crossed Ria Silmane's ghostly face, and she moved to kneel next Ernand. "Tomorrow, you are to be led out to be executed."

"Thanks for telling me. You have an excellent ability to comfort people, did you know that?"

Ria's brow shot down. "Now is not the time for making light of things, Lochlainn. Let me finish speaking." Raising her hand, Ria began to make a swirl in the air. Slowly, a form began to take shape resembling a paddle, or a piece of wood used to churn butter. "This is the Staff of Chaos. Tharn used it to imprison Emperor Uriel in a realm of his making, and assumed his form. Because the staff cannot truly be destroyed, he shattered into eight pieces, and cast them across Tamriel. Just as the staff is tied to the land, so to does the land rely on the staff to keep peace. All the wars that have been plaguing Tamriel can be tied to this device."

Ernand held his hand for Ria to pause. A look of deep thought was set on his face, and Ria's spirit waited patiently for her friend to speak. "How do you know all this, Ria? Did Tharn divulge all this information to you in some monologue that the villains in stories make all the time?"

Ria laughed sadly, "Alas, no. He did monologue some, but not about this. But when you leave your mortal body behind, many things become clear."

"Well, then. Continue."

Ria nodded. "I have learned that if the staff could be reassembled, then a portal leading to the Emperor's prison could be opened. I have come to you, in hopes that you could retrieve the fragments of the Staff of Chaos."

Ernand's brow shot up in surprise. He wasn't quite sure how he should react to Ria's request. Does she fail to realize that I'm stuck in a dank hole in the ground? He kept this thought to himself, not wanting to antagonize his friend. "I would gladly serve you, Ria. But how, pray tell, do you expect me to quest for the staff if I'm stuck in this prison cell?" Ernand looked on in surprise when Ria pointed her hand at the burnt out candle. His sense of reality quaked as he slowly saw the melted wax form itself into the shape of the key. But the truly amazing thing was when the wax key changed, becoming a shining key of pure ruby. "What in the name of Zenithar....."

"This key will unlock the door of your prison." The light from Ria dimmed briefly. Taking a step away from Ernand, she covered her face with her hand. "I have been here too long. I have used much of the power holding me here to form a Shift Gate not far from this place. It will take far away from the Imperial City. I know not where."

Ernand was holding the ruby key in his hand, only half-listening to Ria. His mind was quickly calculating how much this key could be pawned for. However, when he heard his friend say something about a Shift Gate taking him away, his head snapped over to look at her. "If I escape, I will likely be a wanted man. People all over the continent will be looking for an Ernand Leoriane. How do you expect me to retrieve the Staff of Chaos with an army of bounty hunter dogging my trail?" The light shining from Ria dimmed again, this time almost going out entirely. Ernand could barely make out his friend's form, and he began to panic. "Ria? Ria, what happened?"

Ria voice came from the darkness in an almost inaudible whisper. "I have burned away your face from the name Ernand Leoriane. No one, not even Tharn himself, will know the face of the man accused of murdering me. I will not be able to come to you again for sometime, Lochlainn. Make for the Shift Gate." Ria's voice began to fade away, and the last thing Ernand heard was, "Go forth....in the name of the Emperor....and with my blessing." Then Ria's light was no more, and the young Breton was left alone in his dank cell once again. The enormity of the situation struck him hard, but he felt emboldened by the former sorceress' faith in him. Focusing his energy, Ernand raised a spell of Light. Then, taking the key, he inserted it into the doorway. Hearing the click, he flung the door open and dived into the winding tunnels of the Imperial City Sewers.

When one is underground, time means little. Ernand was never to know how long he wandered the rancid tunnels, clubbing rats with the key he held in his hand. But time did pass, and soon he saw before him the shining light of the Shift Gate, just as Ria had promised. Approaching the swirling mass of color and light, Ernand attempted to pass through it. As he neared, however, a great booming voice sounded, reverberating throughout the tunnels.



Struck by the simplicity of the question, Ernand responded, "My name is Ernand Leoriane." Nothing happened. Shocked, Ernand stood for a minute before the voice sounded again.



Ernand waved his arms in the air, chanting his name as if it was the incantation to a powerful spell. Once again, nothing happened. Utterly frustrated, the Breton stamped his feet on the ground. If anything vermin had been sneaking up on him, the stream of profanity, which he hurled at the twisting Shift Gate, likely frightened them away. After minutes of cursing, the great voice came again.



Ernand didn't respond for sometime. Staying silent, he just glared at the Shift Gate, refusing to answer. It wasn't until he realized that Ria had been the one to put this portal there that Ernand grasped the answer to the gate's question. Apparently Ria hadn’t lost her sense of humor in death. Sighing, Ernand muttered, “I am Lochlainn.” A great thundering noise shook the sewers as the mass of color swirling together until it was nothing more than a shining ball of white light. It then leapt out at him, encasing him, drawing him away from the darkness.



Ernand moaned as he turned over, crushing leaves beneath him. In his hand, he still held the ruby key, caked in brains from using it to bash rats. He breathed in deep, detecting the smell of wood in his nostrils. Grinning, the Breton opened his eyes, only to be faced with the point of spear directing right at his throat. Raising his gaze, he looked into the very angry-looking eyes of a Bosmer clothed in a heap of hides. Moving his gaze from side to side, he could see more elves appearing, some from the trees above, other from the undergrowth around his prone body. Swallowing, Ernand gave an embarrassed grin and said, "Howdy..."

Now we begin our adventure!

I am so looking forward to the rest of the story!

Well done!

Ah, Arena not Daggerfall. Got it.


I do the same thing in my stories. Nothing screams 'drama' like events played out against the backdrop of war.

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Doesn't it seem as if Bethesda is dropping the ball when it comes to Tamrielic lore? It occurs to me that, instead of focusing future games and books in the Fourth Era, they should go back and place their efforts on things only hinted at in the timeline. I for one would love to play a game set against the backdrop of Alessia's Rebellion (imagine playing as an Ayleid!), the Thrassian Plague, or the War of the Red Diamond.

What about the rise of Camoran Ursurper?

Now that would be a cool one!

Well, having a war to deal with was a factor, there were some other reasons. I really didn't want to have to cover 10 years of time, for one. But also because the War of Bend'r-Mahk is important to the plot of Shadowkey.

And if any of you have played Shadowkey, don't go spoiling anything!

Also check the first post by me for a cool little update to the title.

Nice new artwork !! Now to go back and read the update!

I am absolutely stunned by your attention to details that make reading your story as real as if I watched a movie of this story. This story/your writing = perfection!

Chapter Four: Delirium

Ernand's assailant glared at his prisoner warily. With the tip of his spear at the Breton's throat, he hardly had to worry about the man doing something rash. But the witchmen of High Rock were said to be a tricky race, able to weave a spell or lay a hex with little physical effort. The Bosmer wasn't about to take any chances, and he slowly began to put pressure on his quarry's throat, eliciting from it a panicked squeak. Laughter began to rise in the elf's throat, and he relaxed some of the pressure just as his compatriots were getting to him.

"What's that you got there, Gerrilgor?"

The Bosmer looked up at the source of the voice, "A Breton, by the looks of it. A nasty looking one, too." Gerrilgor moved his spear to point at the nasty cut, now oozing pus, on Ernand's forehead. "He's pretty beat up. And that cut on his head....I think it's infected." A red glint near Ernand's hand caught the elf's eye. Keeping his eye on his prisoner, he leaned down and scooped up the ruby key. "By Trinimac! Distel, Elphiron, Faldan! Look at this thing." Three Bosmer materialzed at Gerrilgor's side, gazing in awe at the ruby key.

Ernand, weak from his experience beneath Cyrodiil, could only look on weakly as the one of the Bosmer produced a flask of water. Using a piece of wetted hide, they cleaned the grime, blood, and bits of bone accumulated from the key's tenure as a bludgeoning object. Once clean, the polished ruby caught the sun and shone brightly. The elves might of stood staring at the thing for hours had not Ernand moaned, catching the attention of the Bosmer Garrilgor had called Distel.

Tearing her attention away from the key, she moved over and kneeled next to the battered Breton. "Hey, you guys," the other three elves lifted their head in unison to look at Distel, "I don't think this guy is doing very well. He's burning up."

"Good! Let him. He could be a spy from Longvale!"

Distel looked up from Ernand with a look of disgust on her face. "Damnit, Faldan, do you ever think? Where would a spy get a key made from a solid ruby?"

"Payment, obviously." Faldan walked over and poked at Ernand with his foot, "Thought you could come into our woods, eh, Breton? Those damn gold-skins in Longvale pay nice for a little spy work. Too bad you won't be able to enjoy it." Distel stood from Ernand's side and stepped menacingly towards Faldan, saying in no uncertain terms to leave the Breton alone. Having a significant height advantage over him, as well as being armed with a deadly spear, Faldan backed off, but couldn't resist asking, "Why do you care so much, Distel?"

"He's wounded. Do I need more of a reason?" Garrilgor, who seemed to Ernand to be the leader of this little band, noticed that Faldan was about to say something he might regret. Acting quickly to cut the other Bosmer off, he asked Distel what could have battered the Breton up so badly. "I don't know," she admitted, "But I don't want to be around if it comes back. I can tell you that much."

The last elf, Elphiron, chose to speak at the moment. "It's getting dark. Let's just take him back to the camp. If he's a spy, we can hold him there for questioning. If he's not, we can just send him on his way." With that even-handedness that only women have, the conflict was dissolved. Nodding his assent, Garrilgor ordered Faldan to go and get the cart so they could put the Breton in it. Elphiron, noting that he seemed none to pleased by the order, followed after Faldan to make sure he didn't tarry. Distel had turned her attention completely over to Ernand, using what little knowledge she had of the College of Restoration to stabilize the man. After a few minutes, Elphiron and Faldan reappeared, leading a horse and cart. Acting together, they heaved the battered Breton up into it, Distel climbing in with him to make sure he survived the journey back to their camp.

"Alright," began Garrilgor, "Faldan and I will walk along side with the spears, in the event that whatever heaped such abuse on that Breton comes hunting him. Elphiron, you take the reins."

"And try to avoid bumping around too much," Distel said, "If we do that too much, some of the cuts I just sealed could reopen."

Nodding her understanding, Elphiron whipped the horse into the motion, setting it into a canter along a rough track that led through the trees and undergrowth. It was slow going, Elphiron making sure she avoided some of the more prominent holes or bumps in the track. Ernand had completely lapsed into delirium, mumbling and groaning at even the slightest of jarring. Keeping up a stream of quiet, nonsensical sounds, Distel calmed her charge, the way a mother might to her sick child. The sun continued its descent, and it was just disappearing below the horizon when the party halted their journey at the edge of a large clearing. Garrilgor produced a horn and blew on it four times. After a few minutes, a group of Bosmer appeared from the tangle. Greetings exchanged, and the plight of Ernand made known, the new group of Bosmer clustered around the cart as they passed through the clearing and began to climb steadily upward.

As night came on, the troupe of Wood Elves passed through a tight gorge, stopping in front of the entrance into a cavern. The horn was blown again, and numerous faces started appearing from the sheer walls of the gorge. They had arrived at the camp.

I like this piece, it's fast moving and slick. I also like how you've thrown the reader by (I assume) not having him appear nearthe Imperial City. I want to know what's happened.

I haven't really got much else to say except that I look forward to meeting these bosmer.

Sounds like Valenwood to me.

Wonderful description of the environment! And great interchange between the four Bosmeri!

More please.

Wow, this is very polished writing. Great setting of each scene and dialogue.
I love these tales from the early lore era. You and Destri rock!!!

How come I never saw this on the other forum??
Is something wrong with my eyes?

Chapter 5: Lucidity

A large group of bosmer clustered around the returning coterie, eager to catch a glimpse of both the feverish man, and his magnificent treasure. Blocking the mouth of the cave, the band that had picked up Ernand was unable to continue, and they were forced to halt their progress as their compatriots assaulted them with numerous questions.

A bearded elf shouldered his way to the base of the cart, and managed to make himself heard over the voices of the other elves. “Elphiron, why do you bring this man back to our camp? He could be a spy from Longvale,”

“That’s what I said,” Gerrilgor muttered under his breath, “But no one ever listens to me.”

Elphiron raised his hand to forestall further questions, and said evenly, “The thought did cross our minds that he could be a spy. The people of High Rock have a history as spies; Nightblades if you will.” Jumping down from the wagon, he brandished the Ruby Key for the crowd. “But then we found this. Despite the gold-skins have great wealth, doesn’t this seem a bit much in payment for a spy? Also, he is not in a very good condition. I can only imagine what happened upon him in the forest. So we brought him back with us to treat his wounds. If he turns out to be a spy, we can interrogate him once he recovers. If not,” Elphiron shrugged, “I’m sure the Elder will think of suitable repayment.”

“I say hang him now,” the bearded elf called out, “That would solve the issue.”

Gerrilgor cross his arms, saying, more to himself than anyone, “He has a point…” only to find himself the target of a quick swat from Distel atop his head. “What was that for?!”

“You aren’t helping the situation,” Distel hissed. "If they hang him now, we'll never know why he was out there in the woods, or what happened to him."

"Point being what exactly?" When she leveled a burning glare on him, Gerrilgor gave up and threw his hand in the air, "Fine! What do I care?"

Elphiron turned his head away from the crowd to his two partners, "Will you two stop bickering," he whispered fiercely, "I won't have you two fighting over this man's life. There is enough discord among us that we don't need more, especially not over the life of an outsider." Turning back to the crowd, Elphiron began to once again voice his reasons for keeping the breton alive, only to be met with quite a bit of uneasiness. Most people just wanted the entire situation to go away, and not open themselves up to the chance of a spy in their midst. The situation could have gotten out of hand, if it wasn't for the timely call of a loud horn. With it, all the elves assembled dropped to the leafy ground and bowed their heads. For from out of the cave came a contingent of soldiers, each armed and armoured in expensive finery.

From the center of this group of warriors stepped a man clothed in a traditional Valenwood robe, barefoot, staff in hand. His bald head caught the glint of the falling sun, and his jet black eyes showed a great serenity of spirit. His eyes raked over the silent crowd of bowed people, and when he spoke, it was as if he was the only being in the forest.

“I heard yelling. Is something wrong?” When his eyes came to rest on Elphiron, he smiled. “Brother Elphiron,” he moved through the crowd towards the wagon, “It is good to have you back. Tell me, how fares things?”

The bosmer stood from his prone position, but kept his eyes downcast as he spoke to the newcomer. “Things go well enough, Elder Bragor. My companions and I managed to elude patrols from Longvale. However, we found someone in the forest.”

“Oh?” Bragor said, “You found someone? Show me this person.” Elphiron nodded and indicated with his arm to look inside the cart. Curious, Bragor stepped to the base of the wagon and peered inside, looking into the face of a feverish Breton. “By the gods, this man is dying!” Whirling around, he called for his guard, “Bring a stretcher. We need to get this man inside quickly.” Ignoring the shocked crowd, Bragor got up into the cart to look at Ernand’s wounds. He winced when he saw the ugly mark on the man’s head, then swore to himself when a bit of pus seeped out.

It didn’t take long for the Elder’s guards to get back with a stretcher, which the Breton was quickly placed on. With Bragor in tow, they plowed through the assembled elves and disappeared into the darkness of the cave.



The councilor's dreams were convoluted. They had no shape or view, consisting solely of flashes of hot color. Throughout them, however, Ernand was fully aware. Pain wracked his whole body, and in his few moments of clarity, he was able to make out the forms of people standing over him, submitting him to annoying prodding, and forcing him to consume noxious concoctions that only thrust him back into fitful slumber. In this most troubling of times, he felt as if the very specter of death was hovering over him; like a hunter, waiting until he prey no longer had the will to fight.

When he finally awoke from his drugged torpor, he wasn't really sure where he was. The chamber was dark and lacked a light source. For a few minutes, Ernand feared that some of his memories had been but dreams, and he was still in that horrible little cell beneath the Imperial City. He shut his eyes, as if it truly made a difference in that sunless room, so tears could not escape. He had failed. He wasn't able to protect Ria and she was dead because of it. Tharn ruled Tamriel at his pleasure, and if things continued on their current course, the continent would ignite from the fires of war.

He was brought out of his pessimistic musings by the sudden intrusion of light in darkness' domain. A flap had been drawn back, letting in the sun's rays. Achingly, Ernand brought his arm up to shield his eyes, despite them being closed. When he finally lowered his arm and opened his eyes, he was able to discern that he was no longer in that damp chamber, but a small furnished cavern. Turning his gaze to the source of light, he was able to make out the forms of two figures. One quite stout, and the other tall and lithe. When he tried to say something, the words coming out as nothing but a croak, the two figures rushed to his side and kneeled next to his pallet.

"Oh, thank Y'ffre, he's awake!" When the figures came into view, Ernand was able to discern that the speaker was the tall one, and a woman on top of that. She had very sharp features that put him in mind of nymphs. When his eyes caught her ears however, he recoiled slightly. Long and pointed. An elf.

The elven woman apparently hadn't noticed Ernand's fright. Producing a flask of water, she lifted it to the breton's lips. "Drink this. It will make you feel better," she coaxed. When the cool liquid passed into Ernand's mouth, his eyes shot open and he greedily gulped as much down as he could until he was coughing. Smiling down at him, she said, "It is good the Elder was able to heal your body."

This elicited a laugh with the woman's partner, the squat fellow whom Ernand would later recognize as the tormenter from his dreams. "Nay, Distel. Was it not I that gave up on this man's life?" Moving his hand's over Ernand's forehead to check for further fever, he continued. "I despaired, and could not go on. It was Distel that healed you, young breton. Staying by your bedside even into the darkest of night and early morning."

"Thank you," Ernand murmurmed with a scratchy voice, "Thank you for healing me." Trying to sit up, Ernand found that although he was no longer at Death's door, he was hardly able-bodied. Crashing back down onto his back, he regarded Distel and Bragor with wary eyes. "May I ask why you kept me alive? Last thing I remember was having a spear pointed at my throat."

"That would be Elphiron. He was the one that found you out in the woods. We thought you might have been a spy."

"A spy?"

But Elder Bragor would have none of that. Waving his hands, he changed the topic of conversation. "You don't have the look of a spy. But I still must wonder how you found yourself out in the forest."

Shaking his head, Ernand replied, "I don't even know where I am, let alone how I ended up here. An odd place for a Shift Gate to drop a person." He could see that the utterance of the Shift Gate had excited Bragor's curiosity. "May I ask what province I am in?"

"Valenwood, near Longvale. But, by Yffre, how did you use a Shift Gate. That is powerful magic, and you don't have the looks of a mage.

Despite his current condition, Ernand was still well enough in his mind that he was smart enough to not blurt out that it was the ghost of Ria Silmane, recently slain by Jagar Tharn, that had made the Shift Gate. As a student of geography, he knew that Longvale was deep in Valenwood, near its center. And while he doubted that these people knew, or even cared, about recent business about the Empire, he was unwilling to put that kind of information in their hands.

"While I am grateful for your care, there are some things best left unsaid." Bragor and Distel seemed content with that answer, and when the elder announced that they had best leave their patient to his rest, both he and Distel stood from his pallet. As they left the cavern, Distel set fire to an exposed root that acted as a torch for the chamber. With one last look over her shoulder at the once again dozing breton, she stepped out into the sun, shutting the flap behind her, leaving Ernand to his dreams.

ARGH! I take off sick for one day and look what I've missed! This story is so intriguing and such an Awesome Write that even not knowing the storyline I am hooked!

Your writing comes across as natural, as if it is really happening and not just being written about, just Awesome!

Chapter 6: From the Ashes

Ernand was bed-ridden a full week before he was able to stand. His patience was rubbed raw by this downtime, and it wasn't long until his nurse, Distel, refused to be in his presence if he was going to be so uncooperative. She made it clear to him that whatever was bothering him so unduly would only be worse if he tackled it in his current condition. "Healing takes time," she had calmly told him one evening as she washed him, "And excitement only prolongs that time." He could see the logic in that, and from then on, he had tried his best to hide his annoyance from the woman whenever she was near him.

He was coming to rely on this bosmer lady quite a bit. From her, he had learned that she, and all the others that made this canyon their home, belonged to a religious sect. Unlike the other native elves of the province, Distel and her peers rejected a custom called the Green Pact, a tradition that was summarized that no bosmer could harvest plant products while in Valenwood. Because of this break of custom, the religious circle had been driven out of their homes in Longvale, coming to reside in the forest.

One night, as the bosmer fed him a meal of roasted boar, Ernand asked, "But if you were driven out because of a religious difference, why do so many of you mutter profanity whenever some brings up the topic of High Elves?"

Like a good deal of Wood Elves, Distel's eyes were jet black orbs. And while he couldn't make out a pupil, Ernand felt as if they were boring into him as she stared. "Because it wasn't our own people who exiled us. It was them. After the tribe's council denounced us, the gold-skins came in the night. They broke into our homes, took what they wanted. They rounded us all up, marched us out of the town, and left us to fend for ourselves. For that, we hate them." Ernand could only quirk an eyebrow at this, shocked by the emotion in Distel's voice.

Hesitantly, Ernand asked another question, "And where does Bragor fit into all this?"

Her mood softened at the mention of Bragor, and, warmly, she said, "He was the apprentice to our first leader. When the gold-skins took us in the night, he stood up to them and was repaid with his blood. With no leader to guide us, we set upon ourselves. If Bragor hadn't stepped forward to assume the mantle of leadership, I shudder to think on what might have happened."

"So he was the one that led you all out here?"

Distel nodded, her light brown hair bobbing, "He taught us how to take from Nature, but also to give back."

"Bragging about me again, eh, Distel?" Both breton and elf jumped at the sound of this new voice. Turning her head towards the mouth of Ernand's cave-chamber, she saw the elder's silhouette framed in the dying light. "You give me too much credit. It is not through my efforts alone that we have been able to survive." Stepping into the chamber, Bragor regarded the breton with a king eye. "So how are you feeling this evening, my friend?"

Ernand had been sitting up in his pallet as he talked with Distel, and now he straightened up further. "Well enough, Elder," he said politely, "I grow weary of lazing about all day, though. I ache to be up and about again." When Bragor laughed, Ernand and Distel joined him. When the laughter subsided, Ernand couldn't help but ask, "Is their something you wanted to tell me, Elder? Or is this visit just to assure yourself that I'm not dead?"

"I don't fear for your life, not with a woman as capable as Distel around." Bragor pretended to not notice the blood that crept into the woman's cheeks. "I actually came to inform you that their will be a feast tonight. Our hunting party was successful, and I wish for you to be our guest of honor. Are you up to it?"

"Oh, I'm sure I can get through one meal with passing out." Looking down at his naked body, covered only by a blanket, Ernand couldn't help but quip, "Though I lack the attire for such a...formal occasion."

"Distel will find you some clothes. Even if we have to knit them tonight."

The trio chatted a few more minutes before the elder departed. Distel, too, soon left Ernand’s company in a search to find him attire for the evening. All light ceased to come through the chamber entrance when the elven woman finally returned. In her hands she carried a wrapped parcel. With moderate exertion, Ernand stood from his floor-pallet. When Distel went completely red-faced and dropped the clothing, that was when the breton remembered he was as naked as the day he was born. With a stammered apology to a woman already out of the chamber, Ernand scooped up the clothing and began to dress. The clothing was of quality make. First came a deep red shirt and matching pants. Following this was a faded blue tunic, sleeves reaching just short of the elbow, trimmed with brown. It was a cold night in Valenwood, and Distel had had enough forethought to include a cloak the same color as the shirt. As footwear, he wore doe-skin boots that reached upwards towards his thigh. While not the fashionable clothing he was used to in his own world, these garments were comfortable and loose.

Taking a moment to make last minute adjustments, Ernand moved towards the mouth of the chamber and pulled the flap back. Stepping out into the cool night, he got his first real look at the canyon in which these elves lived. Directly across from him, on the other side of said canyon was a cliff-face. Upon this were numerous holes which, doubtlessly, led to similar accommodations as he had been enjoying that past week. Look up behind him, he found that that same went for this side of the canyon as well. To his right lay a steep path that led to gorge's floor. Taking this path, he began a somewhat treacherous journey downward. Numerous sure-footed elves passed the struggling breton on their own way down.

When he finally reached the bottom, the feast was apparently already in full swing. A rough path led further into the canyon, and after a short time Ernand found himself surrounded by feasting, boisterous bosmer. Taking care to avoid drawing too much attention to himself, a futile feat due to his human height amongst the dimutive bosmeri, he picked his way through the crowd until he finally found Elder Bragor.

I don't want to be shot for saying this...but when you described - wait, I will quote it:




- this is the exact way it was for me the first time I stepped out of vault 101 and surveyed the wasteland!


* Hold your fire! *

Awesome Write, as I have come to expect when I see you have written something!

I go away to work and come back to two new chapters!

Well done - I enjoyed how the Elder's intervention swept aside all objection to Ernand's presence in the canyon.

And your description of the canyon was very delightful.

Overall, I enjoyed the chapters!

I did notice a few nits, but will have to go back and re-read again when I have more time.

Well, this is a fine bit of storytelling here. I am glad that you've found a new home on our humble forum. Looking forward to the next installment.

I am all caught up now. Very neat to see a fan fic based on Arena. Not to mention one with a Councilor as the main character. I also liked the two names for Ernand/Lochlainn. It made perfect sense, and was a nice added touch that adds depth to not only the character, but also the culture.

It looks like Elphiron changed sexes though:
In Chapter 4 she was a girl.


In Chapter 5 he is a guy:

Chapter Seven: Culture Clash

Seeing the breton's approach, Bragor ended his conversation with a fellow elf and welcomed Ernand with expansive arms. "Ah, dear friend! It is good to see you up. I see our girl Distel found for you garments." When Ernand nodded, Bragor put his arm around the human's shoulder and drew him aside. "There is someone I would like you to meet." Guiding him over to a pair of Bosmer indulging in nature's bounty, Bragor introduced the councilor to Elphiron and Faldan. "These two were with the party that found you out in the forest, damaged as you were."

The one named Elphiron stood from his food, and greeted the pair solemnly. “It is good to see you alive, Sir Breton. When we found you out in the wilds, we fretted greatly over your wounds.”

Faldan gave a comic snort. “Elphiron downplays, as always. Close to death you were. A few hours longer out there and you would have found yourself a tasty meal for a beast.” The look of horror on Ernand’s face caused the company to laugh heartily. When a comely elven woman came by, bearing drinks, the Breton snatched one up and drank deeply before he found his voice.

"I thank you both kindly. I am also grateful for your defense of me. I understand quite a few people wanted be hanged?”

“A few?” Faldan burst out laughing, “More like half the collective! Y’ffre, Gerrilgor wanted to skewer you back in the forest.” When Elphiron turned on a hard gaze on Faldan, the Bosmer shrugged, “What? I would think the Breton has the right to know.”

“Please, do call me Ernand.”

The three Bosmer exchanged puzzled looks, and a mutual thought ran through their minds, what a strange name. A brief silence followed, which was quickly broken by Elder Bragor. “Where is Gerrilgor, anyway?”

“Well, he was apart of the hunting party,” Faldan began, “He’s probably getting ready to carry the meat in.” As Faldan finished speaking, a horn was sounded. As a few Bosmer went around quenching torches, until only the bonfire burned, the rest of the elves quieted down. Nudging Ernand in the ribs, Faldan whispered, “Watch. This is the best part.”

A flame flickered in the gorge, and the sound of chanting voices echoed down the stone. At first it was like a slow moan, but as the voices grew louder, Ernand was able to make out the words “Gwledda , gwledda , gwledda. Ad 'r boblogi gwledda. Chan 'n cas , gwnaethom ced. Mai 'n hwy chig sate ni , a 'n hwy chrau ddiffodd 'n sycheda.” This haunting chant grew louder until it filled entire area. A slight chill went down the councilor’s spine, and he found himself trying to block out the rising chant. When the troupe of Bosmeri finally appeared, he found himself shocked at their appearance. Naked except for short loin-cloths, twigs and leaves adorning their heads like crowns, and markings painted onto their faces with a green substance.

At the head of this group marched a short elf, his red hair spiking out in all different directions. “Gwledda , gwledda , gwledda,” he called out to his assembled kinsmen. In return, the crowd called back with “Ad 'r boblogi gwledda.”

Turning his head to Faldan, Ernand whispered, “What is being said? I do not understand.”

“Gerrilgor, that’s him at the front,” Faldan pointed a lean finger at the wild looking Bosmer, “Is saying ‘feast, feast, feast’. He’s calling us to the feast, you see.” Gerrilgor called out the chant again and the crowd answered back. “When he says that, we call back with ‘let the people feast’.”

“Ahhh, I see. We have a similar custom in High Rock. But it’s not quite like this.”

Behind Gerrilgor, from the gloom, appeared four groups of three elves each. On their shoulders, they carried long poled from which dangled large chunks of raw meat. From his waist, Gerrilgor produced a small flask. Stepping up to the bonfire, he threw this container into the fire, and it exploded with renewed strength. With great ceremony, the four groups stepped forward and set the poled on stout holders so that the meat might cook properly. When all four had done this, a great cheer went up through the crowd, and the solemnity of the event ceased, with chaos in its wake.

Muscling his way through the maddened crowd, Gerrilgor found his friends. With a big grin on his face, he asked, “So, how’d I do?”

“Eh,” Faldan shrugged, “A little too much theatrics for me. I don’t see why we require such a thing to just eat.”

The wilder Bosmer frowned, “It’s tradition.” Finding Faldan a less than appropriate source of praise, he was turning to talk to Bragor and Elphiron when his eyes found themselves looking at the chest of a much taller person. Tilting his neck, he saw Ernand’s face and scowled. “What is he doing here?”

“Gerrilgor,” Bragor admonished, “Do not be rude. He is newly recovered, and I have invited him to feast with us tonight.” Bragor’s words carried weight, and Gerrilgor refused to prod the issue further.

Despite Bragor’s defense, Ernand felt it best if he did not stay in close proximity to Gerrilgor. If there was anything the Breton knew, it was people and their reactions to things they don’t like. Politely excusing himself, Ernand moved from outside the circle to its center, until he could feel the white-hot heat of the bonfire on his face. In his mind, he could pretend that this was just like any other hearth-fire back in Gauvadon. These thoughts brought on more troublesome ones. When he had left his home in High Rock not seven months ago, he hadn’t expected to find himself in Valenwood, an unknown criminal, and the only apparent person to stand against the usurper of Tiber Septim’s dynasty, Jagar Tharn. He had expected to live out the rest of his days in opulence, a rich and respected member of the Elder Council. A private villa in Nibenay, maybe a harem…

Ernand was shook out of his thoughts when one of the elves that had been apart of the ceremony grasped him on the shoulder. “You look distracted, Breton. Here,” the near-naked elf pressed a chunk of roasted flesh into Ernand’s hands, “Eat.”

Looking quizzically at the meat, he raised it to his nose and took a few sniffs. It smelt faintly of pork. Assuming that it was some sort of boar, Ernand bit off a bit and chewed. Finding that the taste was much more powerful than the smell, the councilor consumed the rest of the meat. “I say, that was fine cut. What is it?”

The elf pounded his chest, “Us.”

Ernand raised an eyebrow, “I don’t understand…”

The Bosmer grinned, “We were out keeping watch on our borders this morning when a party from Longvale came into our territory. We made the rest of the short lives hell.”

“Ok, I understand that. But what do you mean by ‘us’?”

The elf tilted his head, “You sure don’t know much, do you? When we kill one of our own kind, we eat him.”

At first, Ernand thought he had heard wrong. Asking for the huntsman to repeat himself, Ernand found himself confronting a rather unpleasant fact. He hadn’t misheard. The shock was so great that he stood rooted for a few moments before he paled quite noticeably. Doubling over, Ernand stuck his fingers down his throat in an attempt to gag himself into puking. This proved unnecessary, for his body rejected the meat without much interference.

“Why in the name of Talos did you let me eat that?”

The hunter looked confused. “What? I don’t understand.”

Now it was Ernand’s turn to look confused. “You see nothing wrong with eating your own people?”

“Should I?”

Putting his palm to his face, Ernand shook his head. “It’s like I’ve stumbled into a bad horror tale,” he muttered. Turning his back on the still confused hunter, he stalked off back to Bragor.

Cannibalism!

Oh, the ways of the Bosmer! Poor Ernand!

Again well written with few nits.

I'm noticing an inconsistency in capitalizing races, i.e. Breton/breton, Bosmer/bosmer. I suppose either is correct, but not necessarily both.


I think 'me' transformed itself into 'be'.


This reads a little awkward. Maybe something like this: Naked except for short loin-cloths, twigs and leaves adorned their heads like crowns, and markings were painted with a green substance on their faces.


Looks like the typo gremlin struck again, and changed poles to poled.


A couple of missing letters, it seems: the/their.

I really liked this turn of phrase:
Short, concise, and very descriptive!

Well done! More please!

I enjoyed that part. Canabal elves now... I didn't see that coming. Anyway I like this piece and am keen to see where it goes. Ernand is a good character, it should be fun reading about how a councilor copes with questing...

This is turning out to be quite the gwledda for any who enjoy a tale outside the Oblivion Crisis timeline. When Ernand asks the huntsman to repeat himself I almost fell out of my chair laughing.

I love the way you are describing the day to day activities of Bosmeri tribesmen. The feast was . . . interesting to say the least. Ernand is starting to remind me of Decumus Scotti from A Dance if Fire, a totally unprepared character thrown into the whirlwind of adventure. It is to our good fortune that you decided to come back to this. MORE!

EW! Unfortunately, I saw it coming, but still, EW !!!


AWESOME WRITE !!! The description of the ceremony was riveting! You really wrap the reader up and draw them in - just AWESOME !!!!!

An elder bosmer named Bragor. Bragor New-Shoes from Morrowind. Nice work, Verlox.

Ernand is quite the likeable character. He is not uber, and in spite of his new position, comes across as a very regular person. That makes him very easy to relate to. It also makes him very fun to read. Especially during the feast!

Chapter Seven: Culture Clash Part II

Despite the fact that Bragor made him welcome, Gerrilgor had a hard time trusting the Breton that had suddenly come into their midst. Whilst he spoke of the hunt with others, his eyes would occasionally find themselves watching the human that towered over his people. When he saw Ernand indulging in his kill, he was close to muscling his way to him and slapping the meat from his hand. However, when the Breton began to toss his cookies, Gerrilgor alerted his friends and laughed.

“Seems the Breton isn’t as well as he thought,” he guffawed, “Can’t even hold down a cut of flesh!”

Elphiron frowned, "He has spent a week bed-ridden and with a high fever. It surprises me little."

When Ernand finally reached them, Gerrilgor couldn't help but prod, "A weak stomach, eh, Breton?" When the councilor did not respond, instead turning a very hostile gaze on him, Gerrilgor said, "What? Is it rotten or something"

Concerned, Bragor stretched out his hand and laid it on Ernand's shoulder. "Is something wrong, my friend? You look a little grey. Are you not as well as you though you were?"

"Do not touch me." Shaking the elder's hand off, Ernand took a step backwards, "Savages, the lot of you. What possible reason could you have for eating your own people?" Coming from the modern, imperialized province of High Rock, Ernand had a hard time thinking of reasons why a people would eat its own kind. That was something he expected of the base Kothringi, or the barbaric Orcs that dwelt in the Wrothgarian Mountains. And though the Bosmeri culture wasn't as civilized as their more cosmopolitan neighbors, Valenwood ranked near the bottom of the list of where cannibalism might be active. The Wood Elves that had brought him back from the brink of death obviously didn't see it that way, and only stared in astonishment as an outsider admonished them.

"Ernand," Bragor sought to placate the enraged Breton, "It is tradition."

"It is also one of your traditions to not consume plant matter," Ernand shot back, "But your collective does so anyway!" By now, their voices were rising, and soon they were attracting attention from the gathered Bosmeri. Oblivious, for once, to public opinion, Ernand continued his tirade. "If you reject one custom, why do you also not reject another? Ernand continued on in the same vein for a few more minutes, attracting more and more people away from the feast. It wasn't long until the Breton realized he had no chance to persuade Bragor, or the others. However, Ernand wasn't as quick to notice the large group of now-hostile Bosmer that had crowded around him.

The powder keg of distrust could have exploded into a conflagration if not for a timely interruption by a lone Wood Elf that came running down the gorge, frantically screaming, "Gold-Skins! Gold-Skins!" The cultural situation defused, Ernand found himself ignored as the once pleasant chaos of a feast became tense. In fear, the elves began to scatter about, some fleeing back to their dwellings, and even a few disappearing up the gorge and into the forest. The majority of the collective, however, numbly waited as Bragor interrogated the sentry.

"Where? How close are they?"

"An hour or two away at most, Elder. I counted seven gold-skins, numerous Bosmer trackers, and a large collection of goblin slaves armed to the teeth."

"Are you sure they were heading this way?"

"As sure as I can be."

Whirling around to face Gerrilgor, Bragor asked, "Are you sure none of these you happened upon got away?"

The elf nodded. "Our arrows flew true. None escaped. Although," Gerrilgor brought his hand to his chin and stroked it, "We did meet a lone hunter while we were out scouting...Do you think..." Horror dawned on the Bosmer then. The hunter must have followed them and saw them slaughter the group from Longvale. If that was true, he could have headed to the town to inform the leaders there. A native hunter of Valenwood knew the land like the back of his hand, and could easily lead someone to the gorge. "By Y'ffre...We've been caught out!"

"No," Bragor raised his hand to forestall the inevitable chaos that remark could create, "They are still an hour or two away. Arm yourselves, and get anyone who can't fight to the forest. We need to protect this place. Now go, find your weapons and don your armour. We will make them pay for coming into our domain." Despite Bragor stirring words, unease still lingered until the assembled Bosmeri departed to find their gear. Gerrilgor, Faldan, and Elphiron had also dissapeared to arm themselves. Only Bragor and Ernand remained in the clearing. "I did not honestly expect anything of this sort to happen. Tonight was supposed to be a time for rejoicing and happiness. My people are not ready for a battle. Half of them are drunk, and the other half are too full to fight."

"The situation does not look good," Ernand agreed, "But you have the advantage of terrain. Unless your enemies are willing to fight in a natural fortress, you may be able to beat them back."

"I am grateful for your assurances. But I cannot be so sanguine about this. Here," from his robes, Bragor produced an object wrapped in hide, "Elphiron found this on you when they discovered you out in the forest." Taking the object, Ernand quickly unwrapped it to reveal the glimmering Ruby Key that he had received from Ria Silmane not a week ago. "It is a most exquisite object, and you will likely need it wherever you are going."

Ernand head came up sharply. "You do not wish for me to fight with you?"

"No. Why? I was told to not keep you here any longer than was needed."

"Who told you this?"

"It was from my dreams. A great spirit appeared to me, and told me you were her champion, and that you were needed elsewhere. I put great stock in the portents of dreams, and was planning to send you on your way the day after tomorrow. But now it seems you must leave earlier."

"But I can't just leave you here to die!"

"You must, my friend," Bragor reached out and took Ernand's shoulder, "Whatever quest you are on is obviously for the good of all Tamriel. I cannot, in good conscience, keep you from it. Come, there are some other things I want to give you.” Turning away, Bragor led the Breton up the gorge until they came to the mouth of a lone cavern where numerous other Bosmer were scuffling about. “This is the armory.”

“What is it you wanted to give me?”

Leading Ernand further in, Bragor stopped before a rack of weapons and armor. From it, he took a glittering vest of silver scale mail, a set of polished vambraces, a well-honed elven sword, a bow of Bosmer construction, and a quiver of arrows. These he gave to Ernand. “I have the feeling you will need these in your journey.” With dispatch, Bragor aided the councilor into getting the vest on. “A fine suit this is, and it fits you well.”

Slinging the bow and quiver onto his back, Ernand took the sheathed sword and buckled it to his waist. Finally, he latched the vambraces onto his forearms. With these, Ernand felt better. “These are princely gifts, elder, and I thank you for them.”

Bragor chuckled and shook his head, “In the interest of protecting Tamriel, I would give you much more. But this is all we have. Now,” Bragor took Ernand out of the cave and to the entrance to the gorge, beyond which lay the open forest, “Go. Find your destiny as you trod the heart of Nirn under your feet.”

This was an interesting chapter. I wonder what would have happened to Ernand without the timely intervention of the 'gold-skins'. That is a classic example of leaping before you look.

I have only one small nit to pick. In this passage you forgot to close the quote.

Son: But Mom, I hate my sister's guts!

Mom: Shut up and keep eating!



EW!!!

Moving along well. It was nice to see Ernand pointing out the obvious, in that the Bosmer were picking and choosing which customs to abide by and which to ignore.

However, I noticed you were head-hopping. The post begins from the point of view of Gerrilgor, seeing his thoughts and feelings. Then it shifts to Ernand, and later bounces back to Gerrilgor, and finally back to Ernand.

It may help to think of pov as visualizing your writing as a movie. Except you only have one camera, and one microphone. Both are in the head of the pov character. So we only see what they see, hear what they hear, and know what they are thinking and feeling.

There is nothing wrong with changing the pov to that of a different character. Sometimes it is best to tell a scene from the pov of someone other than your main character. But you have to end the scene before you do it, and then begin the next scene from the pov of the new character. Shifting in the middle of a scene is confusing.

Chapter Eight: Into the Night

What started off as a gentle march north turned into a hurried flight when Ernand caught a glimpse of torches through the trees. Consumed with terror at being discovered by this war band from Longvale, the Breton upped his pace and sped north as fast as he could without killing himself. But in Valenwood, a simple march is never easy. The canopy of the forest blocked all but a few stray beams of moons light, and the stars were obscured from view. Because of this, Ernand found himself having to take many precautions to avoid tumbling down a cliff or tripping over a fallen tree. With the amount of detours he had to make, it would not have surprised him to discover he had only come two miles in a single hour.

Hearing the hoot of an owl, Ernand froze in fright. Despite his brain telling him it was just a bird, he couldn't help it. With a moment of hesitation, Ernand reached down and drew the curved Bosmeri sword from its scabbard. Just to be on the safe side, he thought as he brandished the blade. Casting a glance over his shoulder to be sure he was not being followed, Ernand continued on his way. Straining his eyes, the councilor picked his way through the undergrowth. He didn't move far, however, until his foot was caught on a root and he went crashing to the ground with a loud thud. "By Kynareth," he muttered, "How these damn elves move in this land amazes me!" With an exasperated sigh, he rolled over onto his back and then into a sitting position.

"That's it. I've had enough!" Flicking his sword out in front of him, Ernand brought up his other hand and put it to the blade. Drawing from his magicka, the councilor whispered, "Toukokuu kynttilä hohde," His hand began to shine. After a few seconds, the shine transferred from his hand to blade until he was holding a shimmering sword. With a satisfied smirk, Ernand thought, Light is truly the most useful spell of all time. Brandishing the shining weapon like a torch, he was now able to clearly make out the area around him. What he saw didn't surprise him at all. Numerous fallen trees were scattered about, making a straight path hard to come by. The ground was strewn with dead leaves, which gave a loud crunching noise whenever they were stepped upon.

Ernand continued on for what seemed like hours until he finally had to halt at the base of a towering tree. He had had to recast the Light spell numerous times on his march, and his magicka reserves were starting to get a bit shallow. However, he was no longer in fear of being rundown by angry elves, so he was grateful for the chance to rest. Flopping down, Ernand leaned back against the tree and shut his eyes in the attempt to find sleep. After what seemed like mere minutes, the traveler was roused from his sleep by the snapping of twigs and leaves. Blinking a few times and rubbing his eyes to chase drowsiness away, Ernand raised his head. He thought he was having a nightmare, because in front of his were three pairs of beady red eyes. Goblins.

The cowards they were, the green-skins didn't immediately try to strike at the Breton. Instead, they stalked around him, flanking him on both sides, and cutting off his only route of escape. In their grubby hands they carried crude weapons caked with blood and grime. In their other hand, they held flaming branches that passed for torches among goblin-kind. Drool seeped from their gaping maws as they snarled and chittered at Ernand and at each other. Ernand, meanwhile, had risen to his feet and readied himself for whatever was coming. Luckily, he had had the foresight to sleep with his sword unsheathed, and it was already gleaming in the firelight.

As the goblins then began to advance of him, Ernand took his left hand and pointed it at the creature on that side. "Ampua Keihästää, hehkuttaa," he whispered, and a bolt of flame erupted from his hand, engulfing the goblin in fire. Terrified, the pitiful green-skin fell to the ground and began rolling in an attempt to extinguish the flames. At the sight of their writhing companion, the other two goblins flung themselves at Ernand. With a new path opened, Ernand rolled to his left, narrowly dodging the weapon of the goblin that was in front of him. Deciding to go on the attack, he stepped forward once and lashed out with his blade, the blow connecting with meaty goblin face. Howling in pain and rage, the goblin flung itself and Ernand, only to be skewered on the Breton's weapon.

Wrenching his sword from the dead goblin, Ernand failed to see the blow that connected with his head. He was fortunate that goblins weren't known for their great strength, or else his skull could have caved in. He was lucky to escape contact with the creature's weapon with only a welt, headache, and a slight ringing in his ear. Goblins are never ones for waiting, and it quickly pressed its attack, landing blows all along the councilor's body. Stumbling backwards under the assault, Ernand spread his legs out and let his enemy hit him one more time. Absorbing the blow along his armored torso, he struck with the pommel of his sword onto the goblin's head. The shock was enough to make the goblin hesitate, and in that moment Ernand ended its life with a cross-slash at the base of its neck.

Thinking the battle won, Ernand lowered his sword and surveyed the scene. This proved a mistake when he was jumped from behind. Rolling over, Ernand came face to face with the goblin he had set on fire. Its charred skin oozed blood, but it was still very much alive, and very angry. The pair kicked and snarled at each other until Ernand was able to get a hand free. Latching onto the creature's face, Ernand yelled, "Palava antaa, hehkuttaa!" Ernand's hand erupted it flames, engulfing the goblin's face in fire. Its squeals of pain were cut off when Ernand increased the intensity of the spell, burning away goblin-flesh to expose the bone underneath. Dead, the green-skin fell, and the Breton stood, victorious.



Scooping up his fallen sword, Ernand took the chance to investigate his dead adversaries. Kneeling before one, he raised its arms. Spindly. Hardly any muscle on this thing. Wild, perhaps? Taking up its fallen weapon, he looked it over. It was nothing more than a femur of some animal. While he knew that all goblins were savage, he did expect High Elves to at least outfit their slaves with acceptable weaponry. Question is, what are these goblins doing out in the middle of the forest at night? Hunting? No, goblins are day-dwellers. Fleeing, maybe? A large band of elves comes into my territory and I would certainly turn-tale and run.

"Hmph, guess they saw me as an easy meal." Dropping the bone weapon, and kicking the goblin's corpse to make sure it was dead, Ernand sheathed his weapon. Putting his hand to his head, he muttered, "korjaus," and a wave of Restoration magick soothed his aching head. It managed to stop the pain, but the ringing in his ears still persisted. "I'm gonna have to find a healer eventually." Kicking a goblin one more time, Ernand decided not to stick around and was quickly on his way again.

Hours passed, and soon small beams of light were shooting through the canopy above. Day was on its way. Ernand breathed optimism as surely as fished breathed water. Taking the light as a good sign, Ernand began to ascend up a hill. The forest grew thinner as he neared the peak, and when he got their, he was able to look with an unobstructed view of the area. He was heartened, then, by the sight of civilization. Below him, maybe five miles, were a collection of numerous tents and small buildings. Smoke rose towards the sky from these, indicating this was habited.

Let’s see. If Longvale is to the south this must be.... Ernand scratched his head a few times, wincing when he crossed over the bump on his head. "Black Park," he whispered. Thanking Julianos for his tutors’ lessons in geography, he began his descent of the hill, and the short march to the hamlet of Black Park.

Sorry I haven't been keeping up the comments.

Great chapters. The battle with the Goblins in the most recent one was well written, and quite descriptive of their fighting style (all enthusiasm and little finesse).

A few nits, mostly typos:
I think you mean turn tail (two words).

I think you meant there.

It's inhabited.

Looks like your eyes got tired of proofreading towards the end of your chapter, since I didn't notice any glaring ones earlier. I have the same problem, myself!

I liked how you kept Ernand honest and "human" in the sense that he felt frustration at running through an impenetrable forest at night (hence the light spell on his sword), and his optimism returning with the dawn. I also liked how he struggled to remember the name of the village he encountered.

Keep writing this, do. I want to see what happens next.

Wooo! A continuation

I like this piece, especially seeing as the arena (it is base on arena right?) storyline is new to me. I like the character too, he's interesting and has sufficent flaws to be convincing. I want to know more

Good fight scene, are the words you use for the magic made up or based on something?

Haute picked up on all the only typo I saw and otherwise all was good.

More?

Great details and storyline - great write!