I'm very sorry that I returning and disappearing education and life are very distracting :/
This is a fanfiction that I've been working on for a little while, and I hope you enjoy it, now that I've graduated I suddenly have amble free time on my hands, and my muse has returned


The moons were red that evening, as if they were being bled dry.

Dalamus was crouching beside the door, his ear to the keyhole, his red eyes closed while he listened in on not just what was going on in the adjacent room, but what was around him. Sneaking and skulking about was not considered proper for a member of a noble house, even if that was pretty much the Telvanni family’s business model. Dalamus had to be careful; his attention was on what his father was saying in the other room, and he had been beaten for lesser things.

“And you’ve tried everything?”
“Everything in my power, your grace.”
That had to be Tolm, the finest healer in Tel Aruhn; and quite possibly the world.
“You’ve seen to his heart, liver, kidneys?”
“I’ve seen everything, checked and double checked. All are fine, his body appears to have just...given up.”
“What about poisons, have you checked for...”
“No toxins were detected in his blood” Tolm said firmly.

Dalamus heard the ring in his father’s voice as he continued the conversation and for a moment the young mage couldn’t identify what was in the man’s voice that made a chill run down his spine, as if he had just been pushed into a pool of ice cold water. His ignorance didn’t last long, as the emotion present stuck out like a broken nail. It was fear. His father was pleading with Tolm and Dalamus felt a cold dread in the pit of his stomach.

In his nineteen years he had never heard his father ask, beg or bargain for anything. In the seven years that his father was a Telvanni master, he could simply order for something, and it would be delivered expressly, often with an apology that it took less than an instant to acquire. Which was understandably of course, he had done much for the barren island, bringing in Western crops that had thrived in the volcanic enriched soil, making Tel Aruhn one of the few Telvanni settlements that didn’t suffer when slavery was outlawed, but instead prospered, making it one of the wealthiest towns in the province, people came from all over the empire to Tel Aruhn now, something that the Telvanni house was still getting used to.
But to hear the quaver in his father’s voice now, to see such a great man crushed by another’s mortality...no, it was too much.

Dalamus stepped up and brushed the dirt off his robes, turning to the bed where his brother lay.
This had once been their parent’s bedroom, wide and spacious, large enough for a servant to live in, but that wasn’t saying much. The candles by his brother’s bedside had melted down to tiny white stubs since he replaced them that morning and the fire at the end of the room had gone out. Dalamus stared at the cold hearth for an empty moment, deciding if it was worth the magicka to rekindle it, but gave up on the thought, sitting down on a small worn stool beside his brother.

Seren was five years younger, but at this point looked elderly, his ash coloured skin pale to the point that he could be mistaken for a human, his cheeks sunken and his red eyes (brighter then both moons at their peak, as his father once said) were now pushing out, as if ready to pop.

With a sad smile, Dalamus took the strip of cloth off his brother’s forehead and squeezed it, dipping in it a basin of rosewater placed beside the bed for that very purpose. It was strange, seeing his brother so tired, so weary. It was only a month ago that they were fighting, Dalamus was going out hunting with friends and Seren wanted to come and...Dalamus shook his head, as if to clear his mind from the thought. He wouldn’t cry, curse the heavens above for their situation, he was not weak. He was not like his father; he refused to be broken so easily.

“Sit tight little brother” Dalamus whispered gently.

“I have a plan”

The moons were red that evening, as if they were being bled dry.

Oooh, I like this... ...

Nice and intriguing...Definately want to know what's going on...

Also loved the echo of the first line at the end...

Th'only thing I'd say is put a space between the speech lines (the alternating father/doctor bit) so it makes the different speakers a bit more obvious...Otherwise, loved it muchly!!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

Welcome back to the forum, and congrats on graduating! Very intriguing beginning!

Welcome back! Interesting beginning. Even the wealthy and powerful can be brought low by disease. I wonder what the brother suffers from?

Congrats, after a long break, on a new story!

I heartily agree with McB on the effectiveness of echoing the first line again at the end. In fact its reference to moon and blood conjures an idea of what Dalamus’ plan just might be. . . .

This one is far later then I wanted it to be, a lot of problems with losing my internet connection and my hard drive having to get wiped ><
But it gave me time to do some more planning for this, which is something I really overlook O.o

Hey Malx, it's been ages, I'm going to comment on your story soon, but I'm a like 50 pages behind so it might take me a while xD
Expect a super review though when I'm finished! (:

Thanks King Coin, I try far too hard on beginnings tbh xD
and danke Mr McBadgere (I'll try to remember the dialogue points!! ^^)

I'm actually pretty interested in what you think Dalamus's plan might be Acadian...I kinda wish I didn't have to let the cat out of the bag with this chapter D:

Thanks for reading guys, I hope you enjoy :')



The mist that hung over the water that morning broke softly against the hull of Dalamus’s boat, reforming in its wake only to be split again by the gently thrust of his paddle dipping into the water with one smooth motion. Dalamus shivered and tightened his cloak around him, the white cloud of his breath mingling with the swirling vapour over the water. The moons above were bright; round like cups and vast, no clouds obscured their view of the scene below. Dalamus paid them no heed, alone and lost in his own thoughts. As he travelled, he failed to notice the subtle change in the sky from inky darkness to a dull rusty red as the sun slowly rose. Had he known that this was his last sunrise, he quite possibly would have paid it greater attention, but instead he gripped his paddle tighter, ignorant of everything apart from the thump of his own heartbeat and the watery path in from of him.

His boat shuddered softy when it hit the shore, Dalamus sat motionless for a moment, staring at the small package at his feet with a look of such dull helplessness that even he could see how out of his depth he was. No pun intended he thought, glancing at the water.
Swinging the small burlap sack over his shoulder, he moved carefully onto the sand, there was a small cave nearby; the only sign of its importance was a small red candle that was lit at the entrance. Patting the hidden dagger on his side to reassure himself, Dalamus took a confident step towards the cave, guided by the light from the rising sun and the ever present moons.

The inside of the cave was warmer than expected; two worshippers were asleep in hammocks near the entrance, snoring helplessly as Dalamus passed them by. His breath halted for a moment, as he was confronted with that he had spent so much time researching, searching for and now ultimately, found. The shrine was cut from volcanic glass, darker then the inside of a beggar’s purse and just as cold, Dalamus carefully placed his hand on the pedestal, as if afraid that it was going to bite him.

With his other hand he opened the sack at his feet, pulling out a lion’s pelt, slapping it onto the shrine. Dalamus waited for a tense moment, the only sound being his tender heart beat, and the hoarse exhale of his breathing, it was then that the voice came to him, sadistic and cunning, laced with cruelty, it was the voice that was kept by something that had no interest except for its own tortured pleasures, the voice of Molag Bal.

‘A little mortal wanders to my shrine, how quaint... he has even brought a little pig sticker...come to slay the mighty beast, little mortal?’

Dalamus gripped his dagger uncertainly and cleared his throat.
‘Please ...sir, I’ve come to you tonight for..’

‘I know why you are here!’ the voice snapped, suddenly full of contempt.

‘You are Dalamus Indaryn, you are the first son of Alveron Setso Indaryn and you have come to bring tribute in the hope that I will return your brother’s retched life to this...mortal coil.’
The voice chuckled, and in the poor lighting Dalamus could imagine the shrine’s eyes staring at him with boundless hunger. Realizing that he was shaking, Dalamus attempted to steady himself, wiping his brow...which didn’t improve things.

‘I’ve come to bargain with you Molag Bal...they say you have great power, magic that can bring someone
from the brink of death.’

‘They do say that..’ the voice whispered, the pride evident in the way he spoke.

Dalamus waited for the statue to say more, before he realized that he was supposed to speak.
Clearing his throat he pulled out a small roll of vellum, written on it were the terms that he had thought could be considered.
‘The Indaryn family are very powerful my lord..’

‘Get on with it’ The voice snapped, suddenly restless.
Dalamus chuckled weakly, briefly considered running to the door, but the thought of Seren, sick and cold in his bed made him feel steady again. He wasn’t going to give up, he had to try.

‘We have gold, enough to fill up this cave many times over...’

‘Paltry trinkets’ Molag Bal muttered, his voice slick with disgust.
Dalamus tried to not be disheartened by the sound of the Daedric Prince’s voice.

‘Well..ehm, we have an island! If you did this great deed for our family we wouldn’t forget it, a temple would be built in our own tower, a shrine at every street corner..all of Vvardenfell will know of your benevolence and greatness’

A terrible sound came from the statue, like a live animal getting crushed against stone, it took Dalamus a moment to realize that the Prince was laughing.
‘No...clck, clck, no, no little mortal, you will not sway me with promises of shiny metals and the braying of the dozen sheep that live on your island...but I admire your spirit, few would go to the lengths that you would, especially a noble’s son...yes, very admirable.’

Dalamus had to try his best not to let the extent of his smile show, the poor fool.
‘That’s fantastic, what is your price then? Our family will match it I promise you!’
The chuckle came quicker this time, but not nearly as loud.

‘Price? I ask for old prices, long ago men used to make sacrifices in my favour, an eye for an eye, a child for a child, a life for a life..’

Dalamus felt a cold pit grow in his stomach, of course it wasn’t that much of a surprise, Dalamus had simply forgotten who he was talking to, forgotten how all the accounts that he had read about mentioned similarly trades, but simply decided to ignore it.
‘My...life? Dalamus whispered, his throat dry.

‘Of course little mud rat....Dalamus, anything else would be a waste of your time and mind. The prince spoke his name with the height of condescension, this was just a game to him, a chance to get a new toy to...murder? Torture? Dalamus had read enough books on the twisted desires of Molag Bal and knew better then to hope for a quick death.

For one terrible moment, Dalamus considered turning away, running back to the castle, barricading himself in his room and living as a hermit if he had to, as long as he never had give up his soul to a Daedra. But then he remembered the paleness of Seren’s skin, the brittle emptiness of his stare whenever his eyes were open, he knew what he had to do, perhaps he had known from the start but just didn’t want to accept it.

‘Okay’ Dalamus whispered. He paused.

‘But I want to see him...I want to see Seren first’
The statue gave a light chuckle.

‘I would expect nothing less my child. Run to him now, see that I have kept my word, I'll be waiting for you.’

Dalamus opened his mouth to say something else, but the room had gotten colder, the glint in the statue had faded, and the lion’s pelt was gone, the deal had been struck and even though he knew that he was doing the right thing, he could feel the erratic beating of his heart, like a wild bird in a cage, and the clammy feeling of his hand. Breathing softly he stood up, took one last look at the blackened shrine, before turning his back on it, making his way towards home.

Definitely a good read. I am eager to see how this deal with the Harvester of Souls comes out

Well this certainly looks promising; the premise of Dalamus striking a deal with Molag Bal in order to save his brother's life has some nicely Faustian overtones,and I'm intrigued as to how this will all pan out.

Looking forward to more, because this certainly looks good.

This opening line was stunning for visual imagery! It conjured up many an early morning fishing out on the lake! Uh-oh, red sky in the morning, take as a warning!



I was afraid that would be his price.



He knew before he made this trip, you could feel it in his bargaining that he knew any other price would be rejected.



Your ability to write powerful opening and closing lines is unmatched! AWESOME Write !!!


*

You won't have to wait long Zalphon...^^

Thanks Colonel, I'll admit, I've been reading a few faustian style fairytales so that I could nail the feel just right

And wow, nice in depth analysis Malx! I'm flattered that you took the time to go through it all, ridiculously impressed!



Seren was sitting at the end of a long table, it was his war room, maps scrawled in crude black ink showing enemy positions and numbers were draped over the wall, generals stood at their plans, some pondering, others bickering amongst themselves. Seren for the most part sat quietly; he was quickly losing interest in the scene before him, it was that brief moment before one realises that they are in a dream. Suddenly there was a man sitting beside him. Seren wondered how long he had been there, considered the possibility that he was always in the room and Seren simply didn’t noticed. Quicker then when the thought came to mind he dismissed it.
There was something...unsettling about the man, born under a bad sign as his father would have said. The man seemed more then mortal, but at the same time, less than one as well. Dressed in fine silks, he was wolfish slim, a hungry smile spread over his lips. He held a cane, the handle in the likeness of a monster’s head, its lips back in a motionless snarl. Seren repressed a shiver.

“You were lucky little mortal...I had almost thought he wouldn’t arrive...” the man seemed to be talking to Seren, but his attention seemed to be elsewhere, his red eyes appearing to be focused on something that was beyond the room that they were sitting in.
Seren bit his lip softly, he wasn’t used to this sensation, he felt like he was being ignored and it made a sharp rage fester in his stomach.

“Who are you?” he asked abruptly, giving the stranger a sharp glare, any fears ignored.

The man turned to look at him calmly, his red eyes looking straight through him, as if piercing his very thoughts.

“All in good time young blood, now click your heels and run away...you have a lot of work to do.”
Seren opened his mouth to say something else, but the stranger’s smile grew into a manic grin.

“Run away.”

Casually, the stranger moved his hand across Seren’s face, the backhand forming a sharp crack that ripped through the room around them. Seren stared back in shock, but the stranger had gone. The ground had dissolved beneath his feet and he was falling, his arms flailing to catch something, but there was nothing to grab onto.





Alveron Setso Indaryn was not used to this sensation, praying. He had learnt from a young age of the foolishness of the nine divines, the petty superstitions...but some people followed them, and in that belief there must surely be some power?

“Please...” he mumbled, his eyes on the face of his boy, his Seren, who could fired a crossbow into a dummy’s head before he could walk. Alveron didn’t sound sincere in his prayers, and he knew it. But begging was a new sensation, something that he hoped that these Gods that may or may not exist would appreciate.
It was in this moment of impossible bargaining, offering to salt and burn his fields just to see his son grow up and marry, he saw from the corner of his eye, a hint of movement. Sharply he closed his eyes, his thoughts for that moment, muted. It was impossible really, in fact, opening his eyes to look at his son would be considered a defeat, a weakness. He nearly considered getting up and stumbling out of the room with his hands over his eyes that he heard a voice that he thought long dead break the silence.

“Father...why are you crying?”

Alveron Setso Indaryn was not used to praying, or crying for the matter, and sure enough he brought his hands to his eyelids to wipe away a single glossy tear. Seren peeked out from the covers, the colour slowly returning to his skin, an alert sharpness returning to his gaze. There would be time for praise and analysis later, but now there was only one thing Alveron Indaryn could do, because in fact, it was the only thing he could think of doing, he called in a healer, and left to change into a clean set of robes.





Seren wasn’t sure what happened, the healer’s fusing over him distracting him too much for him to wonder why he was lying in bed and why his father had looked like he had seen a miracle take place before him. The last few days had been hazy; he remembered feeling ill, but apart from that...

“Where’s Dal?” Seren asked.

“Asleep in his study child.” The healer said kindly.

“You’ll see him after...”





Dalamus rowed softly back to the island, his heart beating loudly like a funeral drum. He knew that he should be happy, that he had obtained what he had came for...but there was something very demoralising about walking to one’s own death, he tried not to think how many heartbeats he had left, how many mouthfuls of air, but still the thoughts came to him, along with that feeling of dread.
He jumped out of the boat before it had fully hit the shore soaking his boots. Dalamus shrugged off the feeling with a cool indifference. The market vendors were not at their stalls, talking amongst themselves in a busy nature, he caught snatches of conversation, but found it difficult to focus.

“..did you hear?”

“..a miracle is what I heard.”

“Wait a while is what I think, you can never be sure with these diseases...”

Someone placed their hand on his arm. It was a member of the guard, Torvir, or Toryyg, Dalamus couldn’t remember which.
“Wondrous news milord, Lady Azura has brought your brother back from the brink of death.” The guard’s smile was infectious and Dalamus grinned back, although he felt sick to his stomach.
The guard’s brow furrowed.

“Why are you out here so early Master Dalamus? Surely you should be in your quarters...?”



Seren could hear a commotion outside, the healers said that he was ill for a very long time and had to stay put, but in reality he had never felt better. Brushing past them, he pushed himself out of bed, taking a few small steps to his window. Down below him he saw his brother, unmistakable in his robes, talking to some people. For a moment his gaze wandered upwards and their eyes met. Seren was just about to shout something when he caught a breathful of smoke; it was at that moment that their world caught fire.

I like that very last sentence. The useless attempt to warn his family, only to be thwarted by a breath of smoke. Very well written, I am eager for you to continue.

Some grammatical errors in this but the content was pure gold! You set the scene and mood with this in a powerful way!




This was bone-chilling!



Looks like Molag Bal kept his end of the bargain - and now a cliff-hanger! GAAAAH !!!

Your writing usually never needs editing, so I'm guessing you did this on a palm held PC or in a hurry - but the content was as awesome as ever! This chapter pulls the reader into every single scene in a hugely powerful way - Totally Awesome Write!

Phew, this is embarrassing, I really planned to update this weekly when I first wrote the introduction >,<
College has begun, Mechanical Engineering Year 1 (woooo ^,^), but I don't intend for it to slow me down too much, I have a schedule now anyway, so that should help, I intend to keep to this story to the end

Comments

Thanks for reading Zaphone, Seren is a bit powerless here, but I'll be giving him a lot more development as the story progresses ^^



Thanks Malx, it's reaching a stage where I'm keeping a copy of some of your compliments to encourage me on my slower days. the break-downs really feed the ego
I actually did it on a palm held PC AND in a hurry, I'll have to keep my flashes of laziness under control in the future xD

and without further ado...





Years ago, Dalamus heard a story about his father. When he was a young man, himself and a small band of Telvanni mages were researching Nordic magic in Solstheim. A snowstorm broke out while they were working, separating them from their camp and eachother.

Wandering for hours in the blinding cold, his father was unable see or hear any of his fellow mages, lost in the white. Night came quickly, No sooner had a full moon reached it’s peak that his father heard a howl pierce the calm air, a werewolf had caught their scent, moving through the storm quickly and easly, picking off the stranded mages one by one until finally it reached his father, Alveron Setso Indaryn. No more then an apprentice, he was the youngest mage there by nearly twenty years, but possessed a will to live that was unmatched by the others.

Using his limited knowledge, he lashed out desperately with fire magic, the flares catching instantly on the dry forest around himself and his attacker, barricading them in a cage of smoke and flames. The werewolf hung back, wary of the mage, but when it became apparent that its prey had run out of magicka, it sprung fort to attack.
Alveron was ready for him though, and with a battle cry reminiscent of the Nordic savages of old, he wrestled the monster with his bare hands. When the sun rose the next morning, he was the only member of his party to leave that burnt down forest alive.

Dalamus had never believed that story until then, but now that his father’s sleeves were rolled up, he saw the scars, painted silver against his father’s muscular grey arms, which even now looked threatening, like a coiled snake ready to strike.
Alveron was sitting back on an ebony throne, his fingers were spiderlike in the candlelight, tapping softly on the decorations on the arms of his seat. Dalamus waited there for what seemed to be an eternity, too ashamed to look the man in the eyes, all too aware of the strength of the gaze that was now upon him.

“You were told not to stay away from the Ashlands.” Alveron said finally, calmly, as if there was nothing wrong with their meeting.

“Father, I…” Dalamus tried to look up, but his father had risen with fury in his eyes, his cane brandished between his scarred fingers.

“You were told to stay away!”

Dalamus yelped as the cane made contact with the side of his face, tasted blood as he stumbled away from the black throne. Father followed, his calm voice turning into a shout, swinging after each word, punctuating every point with a blow.

“You were ordered to keep him safe!”

Breathing became difficult, but he felt the tingle of restoration magic knit his flesh and bones back together, before being split again with a well-placed swing.

“Alvos is dead…dead!”

“Father-” the cane hit his jaw with a dull crack, Dalamus hit the floor with a dull thump, no longer having the strength to get up.

It seemed that Alveron Indaryn no longer had the strength either, the cane clattering to the ground as he fell to his knees, placing his hand on his son’s broken face.
“So young... and he’s now rotting in some Kagouti’s stomach because you thought you knew better.”

Dalamus tried to speak, but saliva speckled with blood jumped from his lips instead.

The colours dimmed around him, and in the moment before he blacked out, the only thing he could make out was his father’s voice.
“He was your brother Dalamus…and you let him die.”


Dalamus awoke with a start, his vision was blurred with red and white and there was a ringing in his ears but apart from that he was oddly lost. His back was against a tree, he felt the mottled bark with his hand. There was a body by his feet, Torvir…or Toryyg, the name escaped him, Dalamus stared at the body curiously, noting the whiteness of the bone jutting from the armour, the odd angle of his legs, the bleached colour of his shrunken skin, as if he had spent a lot of time underwater.

Flames surrounded the two of them, darker then pitch and giving no glow. Dalamus had never seen black fire, bringing his hands to the flame before withdrawing it, unscathed. Some part of his mind realized that he was in deep shock, but he chose to ignore it, focusing his attention on what was around him.

Where that had once been stalls, there was charred wood and ash, where there was people, there were corpses, with coats of flames devouring them. Unfazed by the fire, Dalamus walked through, staring at the ruined world around him, afraid to touch or to look at what remained in the town he grew up. The fire around him gave no crackle, leaving no sound or smoke as they devoured wood and mushroom homes and the bodies of people he had loved.

Taking slow, awkward steps, he walked towards the tower where he had seen Seren, details over the past few hours were trickling back to him softly with every step that he took. Dalamus had seen his brother alive and well at the window, which had fulfilled his deal with Molag Bal, but he couldn’t fight the impulse to look for him, talk to him, say that he was sorry and explain himself to him…

As he approached the tower, he saw someone step from the building, a man dressed in a black silk suit, a cane with a monster’s head gripped between his pale fingers. A pair of large reptiles stood beside the man, Daedroths, Dalamus thought they were called, both looked at him with hungry grins.

The man waved at him with his cane, a bright smile on his face.

“Having fun little mortal?”

The voice, cruel and cold, was the exact same as that of the statue, the sound of it brought Dalamus out of his daze, suddenly aware of the ash on his shoes, the blood on his hands, the whiteness of the man’s hungry smile. Dalamus tried to move his feet in fear, wanting to run, but some force kept his feet on the blackened soil as the man approached,

“Time to finish our bargain little one” Molag Bal whispered, his teeth long and pointed.

“A life for a life.”

With devastating strength, the man sunk his fingernails into Dalamus’s skin, thin drops of blood trailing from where the claws touched. The sinking sound of Molag Bal’s teeth piercing his jugular reminded him vaguely of a crisp apple being chopped… his vision blurred from pulsing red to a silent black.

In the darkness, Dalamus felt the same way as he did all those years ago. Lying on the floor and coughing up blood in his father’s study, the soft voice of Alveron Indaryn brushing against his ear.

“He was your brother Dalamus…and you let him die.”

Wow...That was a shocker of a last part... ...

Brilliant stuff!!...

Love the way you portray Molag Bal...I keep picturing an Edwardian gent somehow!!... ...Yeah, I know...Sorry about that... ...

Keep it up...Loving it...

Nice one!!!...

*Applauds heartily*...