Hello!!...And welcome to my New Story™!!...Which, I hope will at some point simply be my Story™!!...

Anyways…Because I’m pretentious like that and I like the sound of my own typed word, I have a couple of things to say before I begin…

First, I’d like to dedicate this entire work to mALX…Wherever she is…Because she was always very supportive of me when I was doing the Knights of The Nine thing, and I’m pretty sure she’d be the first in line, cheering me and bouncing about with a “Woot!” for me starting this one off... …

So, *Raises glass*…To mALX…Miss ya buddy…

Secondly, and because I can, I’m also dedicating it to Treydog…He has also supported me hugely this past year…Not posting is not the same as not writing, and he’s pretty much read – and put up with – everything I’ve done in that entire time…And with his constant and unfailing enthusiasm, encouragement, warnings, threats and bribes he has managed to get me to finally share something I’m creating…Yes, it’s all his fault!!...

Nah, his – no small – efforts (he is, when all said and done, editing and Exec Producing this story) mean more to me than I can say without being looked at in a strange manner.

So, here’s to you, you Swaggy, exceptionally cool and awesome friend you…Couldn’t have done it without you… ...

And finally, no small amount of thanks to Grits, Acadian and Jack Cloudy…Who also stuck through, and encouraged no-end, the entirety of my previous efforts…Hope you come on this journey too…Ta…


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

Right…To story matters…

This is not set in the Knights-verse, as I called the other place…That’s not to say it isn’t as strange and bizzare as it…It’s just not set there…But, as I’m multiverse-ing my own world now, there may be the odd character turning up that seem awfully familiar…To some of you, at least…Though they won’t be exactly the same, it being a different universe and all…

Imperial City…I’m sure most of you have a picture of your own literary version of it in your heads…But mine is based on the Rome of the game Assassin’s Creed Brotherhood…And, as such…It is massive…

Yes, I’ve put Rome on its own island…Which is vast…Thus Lake Rumare is vast…I may change it to Loch Rumare instead… …Aaaand I’ve moved stuff around, like the districts and the Waterfront/prison/Uni, so as to make more sense to me…It is all going to be described in the story…But I’m just warning you, in case you go, “Huh? That’s not right…”…No, it is right…Just not the same as the game…

There is a map of it…Just so I have a proper thing to follow as I write, but as it looks like a toddler’s nursery painting, I can’t share it with you, unfortunately…I scaaared…

The one other thing is the style of it…Magnum P.I. does this thing where he narrates over a bit of the episode, telling us some bit of information…And that’s without the knowing look at the camera thing…Anyways, this is a bit like that…There’s what’s going on from his point of view, along with Tharryn’s general narration, thoughts and opinions on stuff…Just so you know from the off… …

Oh, and some more interludes…You know how you all love them…


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

Right…That’s all for now…

I hope you enjoy it…It’s been a blast starting to write it all…

*Bows*…Thanks for reading…

*Winks*…


EDIT...Because of the way the forum is now set up, I can't put the actual start of the story on a separate post...I apologise for this...I did try... ...


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



Tales of...Brother Tharryn.





Book 1 - Mystery, Signs and Portents. 3E 431 - 3E 433.





Part 1 - Pilgrim’s Way/Agent of The Church/A small Bosmer girl.




“I did my best.” So read the inscription on a tomb by the side of the Pilgrim’s Way, the wide, arrow straight East-West road that led into the heart of the Temple District of Imperial City.

I continued to read the dedication; some high-idealed civic ruler who had tried to change the fortunes of those of the least standing. Sadly fallen foul of his ambition, it seems. If the word ‘Assassinated’ didn’t grab the attention, then the black-hand mark over the unfortunate’s name would likely give most readers pause.

A long sigh escaped me. Give the poor better standing, there would be less between them and those with the riches; with the power. All too often had I heard the words, “Give a man one rung of the ladder, he will soon grab your ankles and drag you down; Best to keep him off the ladder in the first place, no?”

Breathing back sudden anger, I nodded my respects to one who – briefly, at least – had been brave enough to attempt change in this, the slow beating, black heart of the Empire.

Turning my head from the tomb, I looked eastwards along the arterial road, across the valley and up the gently rising hills towards the City which ruled over countless peoples of several races.

Bloated with riches, the Capital had allowed itself to spread beyond its fortified “outer” walls. The manses and compounds of the very – though piously so – rich and powerful members of the religious elite could be distinctly seen cluttering the hills’ slopes, even from this distance; and I knew that within them, and all around this most powerful patch of land in the world, townships of all varieties were heaving with rich and poor; Demi-Gods and all-too-human monsters; living saints and habitual sinners – along with those who would facilitate them.

And then there were those they were there to protect.



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



Whether by design or simply years-borne mutual acceptance, there seemed to be an order to the traversing of the road. Carts would travel along the southern side of the road, the ones leaving Imperial City nearer the middle; horses would pass each other down the centre – sometimes at speed – and finally, the foot traffic would stick to the northern edge, the slower and more infirm furthest towards the edge of the road, leaving plenty of room for the un-afflicted to walk apace without having to weave and beg pardon every few steps.

As I walked along the broad thoroughfare in the early morning hazy sunshine, my pace – even as sedate as it was – passed numerous citizens with various degrees of affliction, with complaints ranging from some infected injury to crippled limbs, blindness, some sort of mange.

Many of these struggled along in the company of others, occasionally leaning on the nearest for support; or by themselves, using a crutch; some, on the other side of the road from me were families escorting some unfortunate relative lying prone on a cart pulled by an ox.

Each of the unwell – or their escorts – were hoping that help could be had, either by a handy free miracle, charity or – judging by some of the clothes visible as I took in my fellow pilgrims – sizable donation in return for access to any of the templars’ best, or at least, most expensive healers.



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



As inconspicuous as I tried to be in my hooded travel cloak, subtle and travel-worn chainmail armour and well used leather boots, it was unavoidable that I would catch someone’s eye as I passed them. Yet in that flicker of recognition as they then took in the whole of my appearance, I could see them torn between asking me if I knew anyone who would help and their making some hand sign meant to ward off evil.

Ah, the joys of recognition. Sadly, the one badge of office I am obliged to carry at all times – and that most difficult to hide, is the tiny matter of a silver long-sword.

The thing that tended to catch the eye first was the ornately worked, though strong, jewelled guard with a red ruby in the centre, which marked the end of an exquisitely leather bound grip, that itself was topped by an octagonal pommel, the counterweight that gave the sword such a balance it beggared belief.

This last detail of the counterweight was what tended to give me away as an agent of The Church; those shepherds, corallers, stewards, administrators of all the faiths of Tamriel. The great multi-faceted ecclesiastical organisation that was always so accepting of any faith or belief, so long as it can stand being subsumed and ordered until it blends in with all The Words Of The Nine.

If it cannot, then it is a moral threat; Heresy; Blasphemy.

And then, that’s where I come in.

However, with such power as The Church grants its Knights comes the responsibility to undertake any of the great or mundane tasks asked of you; such as, people begging for the laying on of hands – which is no bother to grant, really. Well, if asked nicely, of course.

Out in the wilds – the deep backwaters of Cyrodiil – there’s little real call for it, unless the situation deems it necessary. But when people have had to undertake such a journey as the one to the Imperial City in order to get help, then they’ve exhausted the knowledge of their local healers.

Though what use they think a Knight passing on the side of a road is going to be to them, I do not know.

The majority of the time, I will direct them towards the Hospitallers – a fellow knightly order, far more dedicated to the art of healing than war, and also far cheaper and more likely to be able to help in some way than one of the Churches’ or Temples’ healers – then, in order that they are more likely to have the strength to get there, I will simply put my hands to their shoulders – unless that’s the afflicted area, then I find it best to avoid it – and I will ask for all to bow their heads and pray to The Nine, and as they do this, I begin casting. First I restore their fatigue as much as I can; second, I send as much health to them as I can spare and then finally, I will rally them, companions and all, both with spell and appropriate joyous word repeated verbatim, as learned as an aspirant in my distant youth as rote from The Book.

Still, there are yet, in the world, those who would rather make signs, or spit, or mumble curses than be touched by “Dunmer scum”, “Outlanders” or “Blue Demons” as we as a race are said to be by those…Narrow minded fools who manage to think themselves far above everyone else in all ways.

I was born not far from Cheydinhal, which, when one is being insulted this way in the middle of the Imperial Heartland by someone wearing the fashions of – and sporting the accents of - Hammerfell, Summerset Isle or Elsweyr is a bit much. And who exactly is the outlander here?

Still, I’m not obliged to stop unless asked to.

So, as it happens, I do not stop over much.



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



Sometime past, in an unrecorded era, the broad, grassy sides of the Pilgrim’s Way, starting at the very edge of City Isle, just over the Imperial Bridge, suddenly became the place to put your tomb. A prime location to immortalise your memory with an ostentatious – sometimes gaudy – miniature palace constructed of carved stone, to be remembered each day as the multitudes plodded their way past your name.

By turns absurd or beautiful; from new and gleaming marble ziggurats topped with an obligatory sculpture of those mythic ethereal bridgemen, the Harn’ashall; to simple affairs of weatherworn and faded grey stone. Each one had the interred’s name, some words of dedication and the names of those they left behind. Occasionally, you could tell when names had been removed from one section and added to the other as the other members of the family had subsequently joined the tomb.

Down the years I have walked this road, I will occasionally stop to read one or two of the dedications so as to mark a degree of respect, as it does seem that in placing your tomb in such august company as those along the miles that stretch between the bridge and Marcharic’s Cross – the point where the East-West running Pilgrim’s Way crosses the Septim Circle, one of the roads which circles the island from the Waterfront district around to the Nord’s Gate district in the north. – results in not so much being recognised as special, even if you were, or tried to be, it has the opposite effect; that of being treated as one of the multitude, ignored in – likely – the way a great many of these interred did the plebs that now file past in droves.



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


I bit into an apple as I reached Marcharic’s Cross. I paused, looked right to see if any laden carts or Legion patrols were headed my way, then I started to turn left onto the Septim Circle and head north.

My progress came to a halt as a small hand grasped mine. I looked down into the pleading eyes of a small Bosmer girl. My brow furrowed in question and then I saw her eyes dart to the apple in my other hand, then return to mine.

“Sir?” she said in heavily accented Gnothic, and reached her hand out towards the fruit.

“Lrindi!” came the shout from a little way behind the child.

The girl turned her head slightly in recognition of the name, but otherwise kept her eyes on mine.

I tilted my head a little and then shook it minutely. Her eyes dropped first, her hand followed a moment later.

Her parents having caught up by now, tried to beg my pardon and I heard her father start on a familiar litany, “My Lord, I am so-” I put my hand up to forestall any more comment and knelt by the girl, catching her eyes again. I smiled a little and reached for a second apple from my pack.

“All yours.”

Naturally, she smiled and then burst into tears. I wondered, looking at their clothes, how long the trio had been on the road.

“My Lord,” the father tried again while the mother held her daughter to her; the girl quietly crying whilst crunching, “we apologise for our daughter. It is so long since we could afford anything except stale bread and water. I think she recognised you by your sword, my Lord Brother?…”

“Tharryn…Brother Tharryn.”



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



*Author notes...



*Gnothic …The official language of Tamriel is Tamrielic…Which sounds balls to me…So I think I ripped off the Warhammer 40 000 word for Basic…English…Langua Franca…Etc…It sounds cooler, and more realistic somehow…

**Harn’ashall…If anyone’s interested, they are basically angels…In the kind of clichéd Swan Song’s (Led Zep’s music label) Icarus mould…My first use of them can be found here…In this post…

You have a wonderful facility for starting your stories in such a way as to grab my attention. This is no exception. That “little” business with the inscription sets the atmosphere, establishes the tone… OK- I will stop now- English major- sorry everyone, sorry.

And the world-building is simply grand- even if the world itself is… not so grand. But that is where the stories come from, yes?

And in just a short bit of writing, we have sense of Tharryn, of his world, and of perhaps the greatest power in it.

Most impressive, sir.

This is awesome, McB.

Welcome back into the fanfic Arena! And what a wonderful opening for a new tale. How thoughtful of you to dedicate this story to our dear mALX.

I appreciate you letting us know the scope of the changes to the game world we all hold familiar. And you are right – once we realize that, it makes it a pleasure to just relax, read and let you develop the world you envision for us. I know what McBadgerian cleverness you can craft.

I simply loved the elegant manner and leisurely pace here, during which you deftly imparted much information about not only on Brother Tharryn, but the world in which he lives.

Again, you’re off to a great start here, and this is a pleasure to read.

Hey, this is quite a delightful bit of world-building - gritty, real and yet familiar from so many hours of playing a certain RPG.

I liked the elements of ancient Rome you inserted here - especially the mention of the seven hills. This is something that is lost in the game - Imperial City itself is flat, not hilly as ancient Rome (its supposed inspiration) was (and still is).

I also liked your introduction of Brother Tharryn, and I look forward to more!

“Give a man one rung of the ladder, he will soon grab your ankles and drag you down; Best to keep him off the ladder in the first place, no?”
Every society has the Haves and the Have Nots. This is a wonderful summation of the view of the Haves. The assassinated man sounds a lot like one of the Gracchi brothers. Which I suspect is no accident, given your nods to Rome.

I see your Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon are more based upon games like Dagon Age, in that their focus is putting down heretics. I do not envy Tharryn for his role. It must be a relief to offer others charity, if he is spending the rest of his time killing folks whose religions, or interpretations of religion, differ from those in the Imperial City. The Hospitallers were a nice touch too.

I am liking your new version of the Imperial City. It is better thought out than that from the game, with the capitol hill, the tombs lining the road into the city, and even the division of traffic on the streets.



nits:
the Capitol had allowed itself to spread beyond its fortified “outer” walls.
I don't think this is truly a nit, just an observation. The word 'capitol' is usually meant to describe the building in which a legislature meets. But I suspect that you are using it in the same way as the Capitoline Hill in Rome, which was more than just the Temple of Jupiter, but the ancient citadel of the city.

Another not so much nit as observation is in some terminology. Roleplaying games love to misuse terms like chainmail and longswords, and so forth. In the real world, there was chain armor, which was also called mail armor, or if you were French and fancy: maille. But back when people actually wore the stuff, they never called it chainmail. Likewise a real longsword was a long, two handed sword, just a bit smaller than the even longer zwiehanders. What RPGs call a longsword, is in reality an arming sword, or the Viking Sword before it, or the spatha before that. I am not throwing this out to bust your chops. There is nothing wrong with using the terms from the game for a story inspired by the game. It will probably make it easier for some readers to understand what you mean. It just depends on how much reality you want to interject into your story.

First off, this story being dedicated to mALX is great! Secondly, I am glad you decided to return to our fanfiction section and contribute by giving us a taste of what goes on inside your mind, and to bring your characters to life through writing.

“Give a man one rung of the ladder, he will soon grab your ankles and drag you down; Best to keep him off the ladder in the first place, no?”

I liked this quote here. It is something in human nature that makes us want to climb to the pinnacle. Chaos is a ladder, and the only way to get on top would by pulling things under. So goes the mentality. Keep a man off the ladder, and we'll avoid any messy falls

Brother Tharryn does strike us as an interesting character. A Dunmer who's faced with the occasional prejudice against his race, and the responsibilities of healing and dealing with Modern Heretics a way a knight would. Truly, this has my interest. I want to see more of his tales.

McB, I am beyond thrilled that you are sharing your New Story™! Your writing is a joy. In KotNNK each part that I read made me return to the parts before it. (Particularly the Interludes! ) I predict an increase in my tea consumption while your Story™ (see, new title already) unfolds.

Oh YEAH, McB’s back!!!

(By the way, your informative headers are very useful for orienting myself when I read in either direction. Thank you!)

As treydog said, this first part immediately immersed me in Brother Tharryn’s world. It was a jolt to find I’d reached the end of the section. There are volumes between the lines in Brother Tharryn’s thoughts as well as the interaction with Lrindi. Beautifully done.

Oh, I am SO looking forward to this!!

Right, two apologies…

First, so sorry it took so long to get back here…Once upon a time, there was a part 1 to 5…And they were good…(Well, y’know?)…Then I came to prep the part 2 for posting and was less than happy with what I had NOT done with it…So I set about sorting it…Aaaand still haven’t finished yet… …Hopefully you’ll like where it’s going anyways…

Aaaanyways…Two parts of the part 2 have been nailed down, so I’m presenting them to you over the next couple of weeks…Which leads us to the second apology…

I’ll be honest, the responses to your comments are probably longer than the entire first part of the part 2…As the split for the part 2 of part 2 would make it far too long…Y’know?…So I apologise that it’s only about 800 words for all the waiting…


Anyways...Said responses...


Treydog - Thank you Matey!!!! …On so many levels, thank you…I was definitely inspired by the tombs on the Appian Way outside Rome and I figured that Tharryn’s the sort that would stop and read them when he could…Even if he’s the only one…

Thank you for the compliment on the world building…That is always a huge amount of fun for me…

Much cheers Trey, Sir!!...



Rohirrim!!! - *Bows*…Cheers Rohirrim!...I hope the rest of it proves as awesome, matey!...

Ta!!...



Acadian!!! - Thank you so much, Acadian…So much…I hope you continue to enjoy any and all changes that I make to the World as I go on…

Although, I hope that despite the leisurely pace and diversions that Tharryn’s thoughts take the story away to, that you’ll still enjoy it, nevertheless…

Huge thanks Acadian!...



H.E.R.!!!! Thank you so much!!...

The idea of looking over the valley came to me in work, and thinking, how would I.C. look if it was on them hills over there?…And then, with the Rome thing too…Turned out nicely in the end…

This is definitely a grittier world than the KOTN…Not that that one didn’t have its moments…But yeah, trying to add a little more grey to Tharryn and his world…

Also, I’m hoping to reflect the fact that Tharryn is not the tank that most of the KsOTN were…There will be times when his arse gets handed to him in this one…

So many thanks H.E.R. I hope I can continue to produce something you’ll enjoy…



Subrosa!!!...Thank you so much!!...Not only for reading and commenting so positively…But for all the info…

The Church is not all worship and praying…There is definitely a dark side to it, and unfortunately, due to several Reasons™, many dark things to do are sent Tharryn’s way…

The RL Hospitallers are pretty awesome…They did as much fighting and building as the Templars, but because they didn’t really have the religious background thing, and did so much in the way of healing, they were left alone in the purge of the knightly orders…And still exist, to a point, today…The St John’s Ambulace brigade is one part of them…

The nits!...Thank you for the Capitol thing…I did change it…I had just misused the word…An error borne of idiocy and ignorance of the proper use of the word, having heard it years ago… …Thank you for noticing… …

As for the realism…I think I’m gonna stick – for the most part, at least – to the game terms for the weapons and armour…Just to make it easier for me, as much as anyone else!...But thank you so much for all that info, I did find it massively interesting…

Thank you so much Subrosa…Very much indeed...



DE!!!!...Thank you muchly for reading!!!…I much appreciate it…On the mALX thing…It just seems right, somehow…

Thanks for that!...I will endeavour to give you a taste of what goes on in my mind, but sadly, my mind seems to want to run away with the story and not give it back…Hopefully whatever comes out, you will enjoy…

There’s plenty of tales to tell with Tharryn, both in his future and memories from his past…So, hopefully there’ll be loads by the end…

Thanks hugely DE!!!...



GRITSEH!!!...Ah, about those interludes…From the off, I’ve got to say, there’ll be more sideways excursions than you can shake a stick at…This is a deliberate structure of the Tales thing…While most people may want the story proper (or, the plot as most people would call it) to move forward a bit faster…*Shrug*…It is what it is…And the info stuff and memories are just fun to do…

Hopefully you’ll enjoy it…

And what you say about the volumes between the lines…Well, these are the things that cause delays… …But I’m so glad you picked up on his dealing with Lrindi…Eventually, and it’s already written, there’s something about his dealing with children…

I hope I don’t disappoint…Thank you so much Grits!!...




Right...Thank you soooo much to everyone who's read it!!!...

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


To the story...In part 1 we met a Knight of The Church called Tharryn and listened to his musings on the Pilgrim's Way...And his meeting of a Bosmer family along it...


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



Part 2.1 – We happy Mer/A familiar story/An effort almost beyond me.




“An honour to meet you and your family, Ser?.” I said and subtly indicated that we should move off the thoroughfare and onto the grass, so as we happy Mer were not in the way of the other road users – or their aggravations.

“Oh, of course! I am Handras Sindiran, this is my wife, Elleris, and our very forward, spirited treasure of a daughter, Lrindi.”

I inclined my head in greeting towards both elder Sindiran, and then smiled down at the girl, “Hello milady Lrindi. I bet you cause your parents no-end of trouble, do you not?”

The girl, having mastered her sniffling, looked up and a hard look I recognised, one that belied her few years, came into the brown of her eyes.

“I protect.” she snarled.

I raised my eyebrows in mock surprise, “But of course, milady,” I replied, “and I am sure you do an excellent job with it too. Well, I guess the mighty warrior requires payment equal to her services then.” So I reached into the side of my pack and produced another apple.

A look of pure shock replaced the hardness that one should not ever have to see on a child’s face, and poor Lrindi returned once more to her crying.

I knelt, placed the apple in the girl’s hand and ruffled her hair.

Standing again, I looked to her father, “Tell me, Ser Sindiran, how long have your family been on the road? Especially this road.”

“Well…” the Bosmer turned his head and looked over at his wife. A sad look passed over his face, “There were four of us when we began the journey, but then-”

A new sob joined the girl’s sniffling. A sob which told much of a familiar story without any words being spoken.

“Ah.” said the Bosmer, reaching over to give Elleris’ arm a comforting squeeze, “Could we, perhaps?” he indicated with a gesture of his head that we should, possibly, move further away.

“Of course.” I replied.

We walked some paces and then Sindiran stopped.

“Handras, by the way, please, call me Handras.”

I replied by way of a small bow of the head.


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



The Knights of The Church are sometimes given the honorific of, and referred to as Lord, Sir or Brother. This is because we are trained to fulfil a wide variety of roles, as well as the main, martial function. Amongst the many services that fall to even the lowest of knights, is that of lay-priest, and many the lesser functions required of a fully-fledged ordained minister.

Any knight may be required, at some point or other, to give blessings; give last rites; act as missionaries in a foreign country; tutor lessons in the study of The Word Of The Nine or defend any holding of The Church as if it were their own given parish.

Brother-Captains though had the added weight of the possibility of being asked to take congregational masses at smaller, country chapels; lead prayers, or make speeches at gatherings, banquets, festivities, festivals. Be it village square or town hall, city-state openings or on castle hearth.

From the solemn ministering of funerals to the officiating of joyous weddings, the work of the Church Knight could be as far away from the warlike image as it was possible to imagine.

Not all of these non-martial additional concerns are easy for every knight, racial traits may sometimes play a part in this, but through the extensive and sometimes intense training the Knights are given in such matters, even the most tongue-tied Argonian or proud Khajiit can become the epitome of the ideal.

Though, as the responsibilities increase, so does the weight of the undertaking. However, Captains become so for a reason, and as the burden increases, always the extra training should be there to ease it.

Though, not all of the roles are as clear and easy as to be able to be shown the right way to do it, or the wrong; every answer be as surely coloured as black or white.

By far the hardest task handed to a Brother-Captain could be the role of confessor.

Having to listen to all the evil that man and woman can do to others and maintain neutrality is an effort almost beyond me.



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



Not all confessions are wicked, evil deeds of dark doings. Most are concerns about relatively harmless things that are easily forgivable, especially as a great many of these wouldn’t trouble the morality of the vast majority of those inside the sprawling organisation that is The Church, and would, in all likelihood, not require forgiveness in the first place. Though, in the backwaters of the world, people find concern in the strangest of things.

The confessions with which I have had the most problem in my career had me praying for a great many hours, desperate for guidance, before an answer was finally granted me; though the actions that followed one answer, can still keep me awake at night.

Great chapter. The dialogue with Tharryn and the family along the Pilgrim's way is great. Lrindi is a such a vicious little child, and rightly so that she protects her family. She's tough . . . until she began to cry, that is. From what I've gathered so far Tharryn is a noble individual and a gallant warrior of what he believes in and his religion.

I liked reading on the Knights of the Church and their respective titles and roles. Brings us back to the good old Knights of the Nine days, doesn't it? I will confess I got into knights once in Oblivion but I still was fascinated by the story and lore behind it. Especially the Knights of the Nine, surprisingly, I know. I enjoy the lore behind it, and it is great to know argonians and khajiits are not excluded from the possibility of knights being distant from their martial nature or lacking in it.

I find myself wondering more about Hadras and their loss and what dangers they might have faced, but alas we weren't given such answers in this chapter. I won't hold this against you since you explained yourself

As always, good read, Mcbadgere. Don't keep us waiting!

There is so much in that- as we already know just from some indications Tharryn has given of his own experiences as a Dunmer in Cyrodiil.

And Lrindi- those “small” characters that just… appear in our stories, demanding that they be heard. Best to listen to them, I think. And I am very happy that you did.

The description of the duties of the Knights gives additional depth to the world Tharryn inhabits- more excellent McB creativity.

Wonderful work, my friend.

I’m very much enjoying your monastic orders of knighthood and learning about how this Mer of the Nine feels about the wide-ranging roles he fulfills. We know already that Tharryn takes his duties seriously and, it seems, has a good heart.

Oh, and it looks like we’re going to learn more about this four-now-three family of Bosmer.

I liked the description of the duties of a kanigit. They certainly sound like busy fellows! But it is also very refreshing to see that your holy warriors are holy as well as warriors. Many people tend to forget that the RL Templars and Hospitallers were priests as well as knights, and swore vows of poverty and the like. As Three-Dog commented, the extra depth helps breathe more life into the world.

Hey!!!...Thanks for reading everyone...Sorry to keep you waiting...I am working on stuff, it's just...Not this... ...You'll see...

So...


DE!!! - My thanks!!...As we will – eventually – see, Lrindi and the family have been through a lot…So the vicious thing…It’s just her way of trying to be tough…

As for Tharryn’s nobility…Well, it’s me…I can’t help it…

Glad you liked the Knights thing…With this one, I wanted to show that the Knights weren’t all about the fighting and stuff, as the KOTN ones were...Well, would have been if I’d actually gotten around to it properly …But ne’ermind…

As for the Argonians and Khajiit…I do love them and I didn’t want to leave them out of anything, given my point about the subtle (or not so…) racism in the world…

We will see about Handras eventually, we’re just headed the pretty way is all…

Huge thanks for reading…


----

Treydog!!!! - Many thanks!!...Yeah, I’ve put Tharryn into a slightly cruel world for this story…But, hopefully things will balance out eventually…

Lrindi…Yep…Originally (as you know matey! ) Lrindi and her parents weren’t in the story…And then she suddenly wandered up and grabbed Tharryn’s hand…And they completely sideswiped the entire thing…As well as making it better…I do so love it when that happens…

Thanks for the vote on the Knightly stuff…I do so love making that sort of stuff up…Much fun!!!...

So many thanks matey!!... ...

----

Acadian!!! - Thanks very much for reading…The monastic knights are much fun to consider…As is the wider role of The Church in this world…Completely different from what I was doing with the Knights of The Nine…

Tharryn does, indeed, take his duties seriously…And will do whatever necessary to get the job done…He definitely has a good heart, another thing I can’t help doing…I have to be able to like a character to write him how I want, of course…

This does not mean he’s without a fair bunch of flaws though… ...

As for the Bosmers…Yes, we will find out…Eventually …

Thanks again!!!...

----

SubRosa!!! - Thanks hugely!!...Yep, the knights can be busy at times…I thought I’d say about the range of duties that they can be asked to perform….I didn’t mean to suggest that they might do so all at once, but…

The KOTN knights were basically warriors that were chosen by the Divines for some…Undefined…Obscure…Reason …And I wanted to make Tharryn’s more religious end of things, definitely more defined…

Thanks so much for reading…Ta!!... ....


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



This is another shorter episode…I would have had more but…I got sidetracked with…Something…Knightish…Just saying is all…But once I’ve done with that, I’ll be right back to this...

Thank you all for reading…I truly appreciate it…



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


Previously on Tales Of…


In the previous episode there was a brief conversation with a Bosmer called Handras, who then sent Tharryn off on a thought about the various roles of the Knights of The Church, one of which is as Confessor…Which then drew forth a memory or two…

As it does…

Here’s the first…



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




Part 2.2 – No small feat/Non-Yr-Prydferth/That much love given.




The first was the dark tale of a Nord who had, from a young age, been at sea with a crew of pirates that preyed on, not only cargo and passenger ships, but small coastal settlements from the furthest eastern end of Morrowind to the western coasts of High-Rock; which was no small feat in itself.

The Nord had managed, via the unsuspecting aid of the banking arm of The Church, to amass a fortune larger than several kings I could mention. For twenty years the Nord raped and pillaged, slaughtered and saved his way through life. Until, that is, the day he met and fell head over heels in love with the daughter of a banker from High-Rock.

How he explained away his tattoos, scars and piercings, I never asked and he never told, but the girl and her family had apparently wholeheartedly accepted the Nord for whatever it was he had told them, it seemed.

Though as to his former crew, whether he simply abandoned his fellow pirates without a backwards glance or fought his way free was never discussed either.

Once free of the pirate life, our Nord took to domesticity without a second look back; though with two eyes firmly on the future. Having successfully hidden his ill-gotten fortune from all – and their awkward questions – the Nord hit upon a plan; he would simply invent a reclusive Lord, have himself appointed as the go-between for any dealings with the public and thus could all his dreams be realised, hopefully without arousing the suspicion of his fellow townsfolk.

The Nord bought a patch of land, near to a stately home where his “Lord” lived, and had a decent sized house built for him, his – by now – wife and his two children.

Then, he had a forge built so that he could indulge his past-time of smithing on his “Free days away” from the “Lord”; which supplemented the small income he allowed his family to share in.

The village they lived outside of had no proper school to speak of, so the Nord had one built, simply so that his children could have a decent education. This one small thing, this well built, but small building that represented a decent future for the next generation made the village a popular place, and so it too grew, with new houses being built, to house the new people, that brought new money and the need for more services, which brought more new money for more traders, more servicemen; more inns; the need for legion patrols to protect the new emerging economy.

Many of these things were, in part, at least, paid for by the “Lord” and “he” received a share in any profits earned by the people, which the Nord then simply ploughed back into creating more services for the – by now – small town which had renamed itself Non-Yr-Prydferth - Non the Beautiful; which just happened to be the name of the wife of our Nord.

So then – on the invite of the “Lord” came the Knightly orders to help protect the growing town.

First a modern Hospital was planned and built, run by the Hospitallers, to help deal with the maladies and injuries sustained by the townsfolk, day to day. Coupled with a barracks, chapel and grand lodge for the Knights; thus the town was now very well protected indeed.

And next, the town finally decided build a grand church.

For some years a Brother-Captain of the Knights of Stendarr had visited the town fairly regularly, and had used a large barn to take monthly services using the battlefield altar, this small thing consisting of ramming his sword into a patch of ground and praying towards that, the logic being that the sword of a Knight is to all intents and purposes the property of The Church, and the Knight is essentially the property of The Church, therefore, wherever it and they are, is The Church.

However, the town, the “Lord” and the Nord decided to have a grand monumental cathedral built. So the masons of The Knights of Zenithar were brought in to erect this magnificent edifice.

For seven years the Nord paid for the construction, always keeping the façade of the “Lord” being reclusive, while all the while contributing much time, effort and monies keeping the project on track.

When finally it was complete, the daughter of the Nord was the first to marry within its splendour.

So, by now the small, out of the way village had become a prosperous, walled pseudo-city with all the best services, finest buildings and peopled by folk so generous with time and monies to charity that their town was named as one of the greatest in all of Tamriel. And everyone there, every single person there gave each and every ounce of credit they could, to the example of the Nord.

The Nord that the town had finally admitted to, that they had come to realise some years back had been the Lord all along. Even his wife and children, who, for their love of him, they had simply gone along with the ruse, seeing how happy all his work down the years had made him.

All that love, respect, effort and – most especially – good, given to, earned by, done by, a liar, rapist, thief and murderer; though a repentant one, admittedly.

The man had been dying when I was asked to minister to him. He was far from home on a trip, no chance of his family being able to reach him the Hospitallers had said; the time of death was in all likelihood far too near to be worth any message save that of his actual demise. His heart, at ninety-one years old, was simply finally giving out.

So the Nord had told his story, as quickly – but clearly and with much happy memories of his later years with his late wife – as he could.

But there was the dilemma. He wanted forgiveness, absolution for his crimes as a pirate so that he may “Not be found wanting by Shor in the Halls of Sovngarde” as the Nords call their so-called afterlife and its keeper.

So, does that much love given, and good done over forty-five years of his later life really outweigh how much evil he had done in the previous twenty?

I had listened attentively throughout his long tale, and at the end, as torn as I was, I knew I’d have to pray, to meditate on the answer before I could be sure that any forgiveness was even possible, given what his piratical life had consisted of.

To his eternal credit, the Nord took me at my word that I would not rest until I had an answer for him and merely nodded, smiled and squeezed my forearm in thanks.



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

This was a neat little story within a story.

How that little town came to be and the evolution of the Nord over the course of his life was nicely done.

Given this aspect of his duties, it is clear that Brother Tharryn has heard some pretty incredible tales.

I loved the mention of the banking arm of the Church. Money and religion have always gone hand in hand! Seriously though, that is true. Temples are where the banking 'industry' started IRL.

the logic being that the sword of a Knight is to all intents and purposes the property of The Church, and the Knight is essentially the property of The Church, therefore, wherever it and they are, is The Church.
This too I loved. A lot of people today forget that the knights from orders like the Hospitalers and the Templars swore oaths of poverty. They gave all of their belonging to the order. Personally, they owned nothing. Which is why the Templars were the Poor Knights of Christ.

So, does that much love given, and good done over forty-five years of his later life really outweigh how much evil he had done in the previous twenty?
There is quite the question. One no easier to answer than what is the square root of 2?

As Acadian said, it was a lovely little story within the story, which in the end sheds some light upon the internal conflict within Brother Tharyyn himself. It comes down to those basic questions of What is Good and Evil? Questions whose answers elude us today just as much as they did people 2,000 years ago.

I have enjoyed the past two installments of Brother Tharryn immensely.

The flow of the story is different from the usual, but so well done that I don't mind the mental digressions and the little history/sociology lessons. They aid the world building, which I always enjoy tremendously.

Now that I am playing Skyrim (over 95 hours in the past - as of this coming Sunday - three weeks), I appreciate the Nords that much more, and I can almost picture the little town of Non-Yr-Prydferth.

As I love stories of redemption, this latest one tickles the cockles of my heart. I also wish to add my kudos to the things SubRosa already pointed out.

A cup of a tea, a Saturday morning, and new story... ahhhhhh!

Writers are constantly enjoined to "show- don't tell." With the very way in which Tharryn talks to (us, himself, his gods- does it matter?) we learn about the mind of this complex and conflicted mer. And you make it look EASY.

The story-within-the-story is first rate on its own- as an illustration of the ideas of confession and redemption in the wider context, even more so. And the fact that Tharryn seems to have trouble with the idea of "absolutes," even all these years later...

Finally- must also point to the "Wherever my sword stands IS the Church" as just brilliant story-telling and world-building.

Love it!

As the other have said you give us a new and different style here and some great world-building to prepare us for what's in store.

I found myself intrigued by the Nord's story told by Brother Tharryn. It was interesting because it is indeed something a smart individual would do once they have all that blood-money. Invest in something while covering the dirt of past history. Funny how big-time murderers/pillagers/butcherers can lay low when coin is involved. Money talks. But more importantly, the question was not living with gold until the day you die but is living with yourself until the day you die.

Redemption is always important in a story and what I loved about Tharryn's tale of the Nord was that in the end he sought forgiveness. But I ask the same questions. Is a lifetime of malice truly outweighed by a few years of self-inspection and repentance?

I like where this is going, Mc!

2.1: I love the way Handras and Tharryn stepped away from the group, and that led to Brother Tharryn going into his own thoughts. You handle these transitions beautifully.

The descriptions of the various knightly duties let me infer some of the Sindiran family’s expectations of Brother Tharryn as a representative of The Church. And of course that part added another rich layer to the world. I especially enjoyed his wry thought that in the backwaters of the world, people find concern in the strangest of things. I expect he has heard (and still carries with him) a lot of strange things!


2:2: I enjoyed the story of Non-Yr-Prydferth and the Nord who changed his ways in its own right, and by the end it had given real weight to the burdens that Brother Tharryn carries. So many lives were built on the Nord/Lord’s ill-gotten gains. On the other hand, so many were destroyed by his earlier actions. Now I’m wondering what troubles Handras is about to unload onto Brother Tharryn. I love the way your stories unfold.

Hallooo!!...Yes, I know, it’s been a while…Apologies…It’s been…One of those years, sadly…

Aaaamywho, back now with some story for you!!...This (and the one that follows it) has been written since May and was produced at what I will laughingly refer to as “The Height Of My Powers!” BWAHAHAAA!!!...

Yeah, don’t say it… ...

Anyways, I’m doing more…Whether it’ll be as good, as I just stopped writing completely…Never even thought about it over the summer…*Shrug*…



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



To your amazing comments…


Firstly, I’m so sorry I got behind on everyone else’s stories…Yes, I know I said they’re not going anywhere the other day…It doesn’t stop me feeling bad that I’m well behind on H.E.R.’s awesomeness and Darkness’ amazing Gladiatorness…

However, just because I haven’t commented, doesn’t mean I’m not reading without logging in…I’m just getting bad with the commenting now too…

And as for these responses to your comments to me I apologies if they’re obviously a little rusty…Perhaps I should have kept them to shuffling the feet and “Ta…” but you know me…In love with the sound of my own typing…

Aaaamywho…To business…



Acadian!!! - Ta!...It was one of them “Start it off and let it run” things that I absolutely loved writing…

As was coming up with the evolution of the town…It’s something I’d love them to do in an Elder Scrolls game…A step on from Hearthfire (the house building DLC thing)…Unlikely to happen, but we can dream!...

Yes, Tharryn’s been there, done that…Which gives me the excuse to go off on one here and there… ...

Cheers matey!!... ...



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


Subrosa!!! - Thank you so much!...

Yeah, I am constantly awed by the advances the Templars made – and the influence they still have – to/in life today…I just love re-reading their history…Pretty awesome bunch from the get-go really…

While I wear the Templar/Hospitaller thing on my sleeve with much of this, I do divert a lot where the poor knight thing is concerned…And it’s very much deliberate as – should I manage to get there – this plays into stuff much further down the line…Tharryn and many of the other knights are rich, from rich families – as the old, non-Ordered crusaders were…Rich bored boys in need of a good fight…Oh, I have a bit that explains it all coming later… …

Glad you enjoyed the story of the Nord though…Much appreciated…Hugely so…

Thanks for reading!!...



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



Haute Ecole Rider!!! - Cheers!!...

Yes, I will admit that I like to do stuff differently… …Not entirely as a conscious reaction, but I do what I feel is right [/Kenobi] for how my stories go…So jumping about with time/interludes and all that…Should they completely derail the plot, then…Pffft…*Shrug*… ...

I’m so glad that you it’s not too jarring for you…I appreciate hugely that you keep coming back…

I did love picturing the town meself…Perhaps I’ll retire there when it’s all done… …

Huge thanks H.E.R…I appreciate it…



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



Treydog!!! - The narration thing comes from Magnum – as if you couldn’t guess – and yes, it breaks the fourth wall etc/yawn …But I’m really enjoying his “Telling” the story...And yes, his doubts and irritations and stuff are fun to play with…

Thank you so much for everything matey…Your continued enthusiasm and awesomeness are very much a joy to receive… ...

Huge thanks matey…I hope I continue to make it worth coming back for…



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



Darkness Eternal!!! – Awright matey?!...

Cheers!!!...I’m glad you and everyone liked the whole thing with the Nord…It was different for me too…To have someone like that – seeking redemption and all…I mean, at heart, was he good or evil?...Or just “human”?...I don’t know what I would have done in Tharryn’s shoes...I know what Tharryn does, obviously, but it’s a huge question…And I’m so grateful for everyone’s compliments on this one…

Thank you so much for reading, it’s hugely appreciated… ...



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



Grits!!! - Huge thanks!!!...

I am/was thoroughly enjoying writing this one…Tharryn is very much a joy to write…I hope that comes through…

I loved making the stuff up about the duties…I wanted to show that it wasn’t just stabby-stabby-kill-kill all the time…Y’know?...

Ta!!...

And again, I’m so glad that everyone loved the Non-Y-Prydferth thing…Like I said, I’m quite happy to move there, right now!!... :-D ...

Handras and his problems may be delayed a little…Ooops…Another excursion I’m afraid…It’s worth it though…

Thank you so much for reading, much appreciated!!...



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



Much huge thanks to everyone who read, always appreciated…*Bows*…



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



To the story!!!...



Previously on…


We met a Brother-Knight of The Church named Tharryn who, on his way back from elsewhere chanced upon a Bosmer family and stopped to chat…This, as with many other things do, led him to one of them mental diversions that we all have from time to time…

This led pretty instantly to a diversion discussing the difficult nature of and agonies thrown up from confessions…The first from a Nord, a former pirate…

And the second...Well…It might not be quite what it first appears to be…



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





Part 2.3 – An Imperial Courtier/The Mistress of the Emperor/The Ambiguous and Indefinite






The second most vexing confession that I ever took involved an Imperial courtier named Darius Glent.


The man was as popular as it was possible for someone with no genuine power – other than the force of his personality – to be. A philosopher; polymath; social commentator; author of fiction, treatise, great books of learning; playwright; artist; sculptor. Entrance into his circle of friends guaranteed the ascension of your status to that of Worthy of Note; and your name and deeds being written about in the daily and weekly columns throughout the world of papered newssheets.

Guest of nobles and scholars, artisans and charlatans; favourite of kings and champion of vagabonds; his undoubted willingness to embrace all the spectrum of life through the sheer mountain of charitable works he undertook made him the darling of each and every walk of life.

Caula Voria, Empress and estranged wife of Uriel Septim was particularly fond of Glent, and many were the not-really-unfounded rumours of how close the friendship had become. His confession never mentioned the Empress one way or another though. This does not mean there was no deeper relationship, however; and given all else that he had done through his life, a little fraternisation with an estranged married woman – Empress or not – would likely rank as no sin whatsoever.

While no living saint, the man was clearly idolised by many for so many reasons within the range his life encompassed.

One would wonder, however, where he managed to get the time to also live a second life, one as a rapist and murderer of quite some note.

I will spare the gruesome details; suffice to say, as a murderer, the courtier was as thorough as he had been in his other pursuits.

My original genesis with the matter was soon after I had become a Brother-Captain, some forty years ago. Over a period of several days, women had been found locked in their houses – from the inside – within separate districts. A rune had been burnt into the door at each location, the rune for death.

Though even now, no clear record of the true extent of the killings exists, by way of my friends, acquaintances and peers throughout The Church at the time, I was able to piece together that these particularly disturbing acts of vivisection were occurring throughout the Empire.

It is now so many years later than either the killings or his confessing to them and I still find it difficult to imagine that all this horror was accomplished by one man, but the absolute cocksure certainty that Glent possessed still, even on his death bed; the relish with which he related killing after killing; picking out key details that I remember omitting from public records. There could have been no doubt that the courtier had indeed been the killer.

His fame had guaranteed that his every move would be watched by all, except when in his room alone; and the fact that he was watched so closely meant that almost nobody could have suspected him. Just one man amongst how many millions of others in this world and the brightness of his fame blinded almost all.

Of course, the one person that had pointed a finger at him – an old DaTyrk vagabond – was, unfortunately, precisely the sort of person that those in the position to do anything about the warning she brought would dismiss out of hand.

Fortune – if you could call it that, with hindsight – found our paths crossed.



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



The DaTyrk was an old – though only of late so – woman; still possessing a fierce beauty with her dark hair streaked with the steel-shade of age, warm ochre coloured skin that evidenced the Elsweyr sun-drenched heritage of her race, and wide, beautiful eyes that at that moment were taking in the company we were in.

She had tracked us down – the Watch investigator I was working with at the time, one inspector Shepherd Garrick, and I – whilst we were at one of the crime scenes.

The woman, with her intense, burnt sand coloured eyes boring into mine, claimed she had seen a vision of the courtier killing the mistress of the Emperor Uriel Septim in her dreams. Sadly, everyone – bar me – had laughed out of hand. I had silenced them with a sharp rebuke, but to no use, the DaTyrk had already fled the room. As close as I had been behind her, as I exited and looked up and down the street, she had – rather predictably – vanished into thin air.

After a reminder that in a world full of magic, premonitions of the future were no more outlandish than the ability to drag creatures through from other dimensions to do peoples’ bidding, we decided to investigate further; even though that meant asking awkward questions of the most powerful man in Tamriel.

At the Imperial Palace, a young Breton lieutenant led us to an antechamber where we were to await the summons of the Emperor.



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


“Gentlemen, if you would please come in.” a deep, resonant voice called through an open door to our right.

We followed the instruction and found ourselves in an open, spacious office with nothing lacking in the way of large windows, one of which was open, allowing a fresh breeze into the room.

Many filled to bursting bookcases, several strides long and ornament cabinets covered with the accumulation of many years of collecting were numerous enough to have some against the wall, and others set out into the room.

Trophies of beastly conquests hung on one wall, on another, a pair of Yokudan tapestries. And here and there, paintings – mostly landscapes, watercolour and oil based – were placed pleasingly around the room.

A large marbled fireplace, that would have dominated the room of any average person, sat diminished by the size of the mahogany panelled wall it was built into, the grate currently unused, unlit. The unburnt corners of some document still sat atop the remains of the most recent use.

Nearby, a pair of sofas sat opposite each other, a low table between them; a sign of how The Emperor relaxes with his guests perhaps.

We made our way towards the far end of the deep red carpeted room and the majesty we were here to speak to.

In a moment that was almost indescribable in its strangeness, it became instantly obvious that it was not The Emperor that sat behind an oak desk that was strewn with papers to one side, a half opened map in front of him and a pitcher and beaker at his right hand; it was ‘merely’ Uriel Septim, the man. Having only seen his majesty on ceremonial occasions – and those from a distance – in full regalia, it was a shock to see him seated behind a desk in a neatly pressed white shirt and leather waistcoat.

I suppose it is entirely logical that there would be no need of the robes of office when merely working at said office, but it was nevertheless a lurch for the mind to accept.

The man I still have trouble thinking of as merely Uriel looked up from his map and smiled, and a genuine one at that.

“Now, how can I help you fine officers today? I understand,” Septim tilted his closely cropped grey-haired head towards his assistant waiting patiently in the corner of the room, “you’re looking into these despicable murders in my city. How goes it?”

“I wish we had better news, sire.” Answered my cohort, “But so far, there’s little to determine anything concrete; the only…slightest possibility of a lead,” my friend looked over at me with a hint of a disapproving frown visible, “is one we felt necessary to follow up on; despite the somewhat…ambiguous and indefinite nature of it.”

The Emperor raised his eyebrows. “Oh?” he said simply, “This office has all the time in the world for the ambiguous and indefinite, of course. But I must ask…” Uriel paused, and a small smile tugged at the edge of his mouth, “Why was it necessary, at this particular time, to bring it to my personal attention?”



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




*DaTyrk – Nomadic, Imperial/human tribe from southern Elsweyr…Basically Turkish-ish sort of thing…

Aslo to be found here…In this post from some time ago now...

Welcome back! Woo-HOOOO! (Manly hug- for McBadgere… Tharryn might stab me….)

The power of the descriptions soars, as always. Tharryn’s voice is so clear- this is one of those stories that I “hear” as much as “read.” Speaking of descriptions, perhaps my favorite bit is how seeing Uriel as… a man… instead of as “The Emperor” jolts Tharryn’s perceptions. And what makes it work so well is how you describe the human side of Uriel.

It is such a thrill to see this story return.

I'm with Treydog here. This was so delightful I'd have to quote the entire thing.

Instead, I will settle for just this one thing:
What a delightful picture this presents! Lady Cora would have liked him straightaway!

Welcome back! I’m overjoyed that you are continuing this. And, by Kynareth’s wings, you have not lost your gift for wonderful prose so amply fueled by creative imaginings.

This, for example, is simply a beautiful description that evokes a gentle but clear picture - - ’The DaTyrk was an old – though only of late so – woman; still possessing a fierce beauty with her dark hair streaked with the steel-shade of age, warm ochre coloured skin that evidenced the Elsweyr sun-drenched heritage of her race, and wide, beautiful eyes that at that moment were taking in the company we were in.’

Wow, the image of the courtier sure changed on a septim when Tharryn informed us of the Imperial’s dark secret.

Your portrayal of Uriel is spot on, and I eagerly await more of what has to be an awkward scene for those standing before their Emperor.

I am absolutely delighted to see this story continuing.

As ever within the first few lines I was right back in Brother Tharryn’s world and captivated by his story of Darius Glent.

I particularly loved Brother Tharryn’s description of the DaTyrk woman with the ‘burnt sand coloured eyes.’ The way he sees people shows something of how he thinks of them without spelling it out.

Uriel’s office sounds wonderful. Just the sort of place I can imagine him working. Tharryn’s thought about the two sofas made me smile, as it was quickly followed by the jolt of seeing the Emperor Himself dressed less than majestically and looking like he might actually sit across from a guest on a sofa instead of on some kind of office throne.

Also, what a joy it was to revisited the shop of Farisce and his Gloom-Wraith assistant plus action figure. Thank you for the DaTyrk link!

Can’t wait to see how Brother Tharryn explains the ambiguous and indefinite lead they’re following. Yay, I love this story!

Great to see you returned to us, Mcbadgere and continuing Tharryn's holy tale! Did I ever tell you I am pleasantly surprised by your writing? If I didn't, I say it now.

As the others have said, we see Uriel here but not Emperor Septim. We see him as the man, not the ruler and that in and of itself is a nice touch. I like this update's story about the courtier and the praise and popularity he had and his darker, more sadistic side. His relationship with the Royal Woman was also interesting.

Mcbadgere, you have a good yarn going. Keep it going, please!

Sorry for commenting so late. Better than never I suppose though...

Love the Knight's reaction to meeting Uriel Septim the man, as opposed to The Emperor. It was a nice study of contrasts between the idealized image that every leader tries to consciously project in public - and that we little people ourselves conjure up within our own minds - with the reality that no matter how high a position you have, you still are just as human (or elven) as everyone else. As I have mentioned before, one cannot sit brooding upon your throne of skulls in your fortress of solitude forever.

I readed it! I satted down and readed it! And then I grammared good like

Anywhoo, srs comments ahead.

First off: Tharryn. God dammit, Tharryn. I'm already really enjoying his character, and his combination of traditional knightliness (knightosity?) with a confessor is a cool idea. I like the way you've woven it into the story as well, first of all with the Nord's village and secondly with the noble's confession. His voice is also very strong, and it makes this an incredibly enjoyable read; the descriptions are vivid, the world feels well built and lived in and just, well, everything about this is really good, so write more!

*Sharpens knife*

And write quickly...