Thats right, back, in Oblivion, and ready for another go at all of your sanities/interest.

Kalith, The Magister.

A night in the cell. Thats what they had tagged on him for accidentally burning down an inn in a small town near the Imperial city. One night, maybe two they had said, along with a few hundred septium fine. He hadn't expected them to put him in one of the deep cells, and especially not to forget about him down there in the dingy, dark, cell. The skull and few other bones scattered about the room did nothing to improve his mood, and the cellmate across from him wasn't the most pleasant of company. He, of course, spent his now hours without number meditating, and preparing his spellwork, no use in falling out of practise for when they finally let him out of this Imperial-made hell. They had no right to lock him away, a respectable Breton mage like himself. Of course, it probably would have helped if he had joined with the local Mage's Guilds in the Imperial Provience instead of having his own small practise that had been carried over from the eastern provience of Morrowind. On Vvardenfell, the rules and watching upon the practise of magiks use had been far less scrutinised, and the more influential members of the Cryodillic Mage's guild were probably the reason he was still locked in this miserable place.

One Week Later

Well, he was to have nothing of it, and this fine night with the full moon's light shining gently in through the window was the perfect time to finally escape. He would do it. Attract the guards attention, subdue him with a simple spell, then unlock his cell and make a break for it. Then, something unexpected happened, a change in the wind, a foretelling of sorts, something had changed in the City, a sense of urgency, of death. Minutes later Blades, escorting the Emporerer himself, broke into his cell. Now what, he wondered to himself.


(Mind you all, I'll be updating randomly over the week.)

(An unfortunate double-post, but it seems replies are still wanting... )

They pushed him aside abruptly, heading toward the alclove in the back of his cell. If they planned to make a stand here, things must be going far worse in the castling and city above. of course he was to have none of it, but unfortunatly, they had resealed his cell on thier way through, and were already set to working on something in the rear of his cell. One of them was discussing with the third on how this paticular cell was supposed to be empty, it seemed that it wasn't just the warden that hadn't been informed of his unending imprisonment.

Somehow, when his attention returned from the pair, the Emporer had found interest in him. Soon enough, the Imperial Majesty had explained the situation in which he believed that they were in. Malkith, of course, dismissed the regents "prophetic dreams" as a superstitious aclaimation, a simple disturbed dream. The Blades, in the meantime, had opened a sort of secret passageway in his cell, and led the Emporer off through it, with a warning not to follow. As if reacting to the events to come, the moon was shaded by a passing cloud, a form of prophecy in itself if you will. Of course he had no belief in "divine messages" or fate being marked out for you. There was simply what you choose to do, and what others force you into doing, much as the Imperials had forged themselves as the strongest race, to conquer Tamriel as they had.

Despite the Blades warning not to follow, the chance at the most simple escape ever managed from an Imperial prison was far too tempting, and soon he was headed down the passage aften them. If only he knew, how much fate truly decides your destiny. He might have stayed in the cell, as only an hour later, the cell door was unlocked by the concerned warden, fate does not exsist indeed, Malkith, fate does not exsist, indeed...

Its shaping well though it seems a little rushed. You might want to consider writing longer sections.

You might also want to consider focusing it more on the characters as it's a little dry at the moment.

Just a couple of pointers, the dungeon crawl could be interesting.

I kind of like it. It does seem kind of rushed but, this is a good part to rush at. I'm not much of a writing critic you see and well, I like a good story. Parts like this in the main campaign make me bored.

Lol, I guess our opinions on that point differ, Steve. I hate rushing, except to get a frantic pace during some fights. Otherwise, I prefer to take it slow.

So I would suggest you try to show more, rather than tell. And to look further into possible plothooks. How did Kalith react when the Emperor came, how did the Blades and the Emperor react to him? As it stands now, it feels like the two sort of ignored each other.

Also, perhaps trying to write out the dialogue rather than just presenting the outcome. There is a huge amount of characterization you can put in through some simple dialogue. Or rather, I should say that the characterization comes from how the words are being brought.

,,Who are you?" Kalith asked, paying more attention to the bug crawling on the wall than the conversation at hand.
,,Who are you?" Kalith growled, clenching his hands into fists and baring his teeth.

Exactly the same words, yet they give us a much different insight. The first Kalith is bored and simply not interested. The second Kalith is damn furious and ready to pounce at the slightest provocation.

Also, a little nitpick on the last sentence of the first part. I'll quote.


The problem I have here is that it isn't quite clear to me. The first part suggest that it is an actual bit of (internal) dialogue, as does the second. Yet the comma in the center flows better inside a normal sentence. So I would suggest here to do either of the following.
,,Now what?" He wondered to himself.
Or
He wondered to himself what was happening now.

I personally prefer the first one. The italics are optional, but I like to use them to distinguish between spoken text and thoughts.

And one last question to end this. Is it Kalith or Malkith? The title suggests Kalith, yet your second update uses Malkith twice. Or is it Malkith Kalith, as in a family name?

Three important points I have to bring up here:

A- There wasn't a reactional point on either side, this was little more than a chance meeting. Not much emotion on our side of things either.

B-The reason for the lack of characterization will become evident in time.

C- It's niether, AND both names. Yet again, all will be explained in time.

And unfortunatly, yes. Despite my best intentions this work is going to be rushed for the next few weeks, I'm a buzy little bugger in the real world at the moment, and short updates will be all that happens until I have more time on my hands.

Well, thanks crowd for finding the time to reply!

Actually, I've found some time at the moment... so in we go!

Imperial Sewer Complex, Malkith

Three shivers. Four heartbeats that moved down the passages toward a far door. A very far door. He moved soon as the soft beats began to fade, the winds of magika had shifted in Cryodill, he had niether the control nor the vastness he had on Vvardenfell, not even the lessened amount of mintues before. What is to become of you, Malkith? Soon, he had caught up with them. The Blades and the Emperor, that is. New heartbeats had joined them for a moment, but by his arrival there were nothing but scattered red cloaked corpses, along with one Blade, the girl, who had been neatly lain out by one of her companions. The sword, her sword. It would be no use to her in the afterlife, and he found no compunction in not retriving it from the corpse. His head snapped toward the sound of the Blades, it seemed that one of them had the idea of slaying him, simply for being here. Ridiculous. Uriel Septium seemed to argue against it, and the Blades no longer had a say in the matter. They left him there, with instructions to contiue off down a seperate path, through the caves, rather than to tag along behind them. Of course, all he heard was nonsense, but the meaning was clear.

Imperial City Caves, Kalith

Why had they left him here like this? He understood that they were simply protecting thier ward, the Emperor, but they could've been more helpful on how to find his way out of this wretched place, besides to head through the caves. Whats wrrrrong little Kalith? Fate not very kind to you? Well, at least he had that, and so thereon is where he headed, into the caves. The first thing that was easily evident, was that the Imperials had no care for thier sewers, as a large, and fierce, rat dove upon him as he entered the first cross-ways. It already had sunk it's vile teeth into his arm by the time he had realized enough what had happened to react. A Flare, more commonly known as a fireball, despite its lack of power to be one, was his first reaction, searing the flesh from the vermin. Vermin... Mortals do not understand the meaning... It died quickly as the fire continued through it, leaving a smoking corpse of the rodent upon the ground. Kalith, was repungent about the odour, and the look, of the burn little creature, so he left it there, and continued onward through the tunnels. There were more rats of course, but now he was more aware to his surrondings, and the onset of a full colony of the pests. Do the Divine not protect thier champions better?

Imperial City Caves, Malkith

Goblins. There were goblins nearby. He skittered through the shadows nearer to the stench, the pathetic mind of the thing. Vermin, hardly sentient. He burned the first he came upon without remorse, darts of fire flicking from his fingers into his victim who hardly recognized the pain before it's eyes dulled and it collapsed upon the dirt floors. He moved on, looting the body with a flick of his hands through it's grubby rags. A pair of lockpicks were on this one. And the next met the same fate, and the spoils of its body weren't much greater. Fate, is a wonderful thing... much... like a burning ring... On he moved through the caves, a Goblin Witch met it's demise much like it's less magikally intuned brethern, though the magics of its staff had singed his skin with the burst of electricity before it became a pillar of cinder. He laughed maniacally, brushing the ash aside, and collecting the scant pickings from the resulting pile. The staff, was something he found intriguing, though. Head on a spike... sound familiar? He moved on.


((Figured it out yet? ))

Split personality?

I don't get the head on a spike reference though, sorry. Or the burning ring one. Though I am willing to hazard a guess and assume that this Malkith is a spirit that has resurrected inside Kalith or something and the burning ring and spike are references to his past life.

Seperate entities living in one body?

He knows he's a campion... Perhaps some godly thing and the mention of Morrowind earlier as Kalith and Vvardenfel later Malkith I'm thinking he might be some bloke possessed but a powerful thing from Vvardenfel... maybe the nevarine, or Vivec, or some spirit of Dagoth Ur. I'll wait and see.

A couple of comments; keep the characterisation going.

Also repungant isn't a verb

The head on a spike is... but a burning ring is Johnny Cash...

Down, down, down,
in a burning ring of fire
down, down, down,
and the flames keep getting higher...

Well, I'm writing another fiction, as I messed this up... (drat my short-sightedness) but first a little correction... Vvardenfell is the island portion of Morrowind. The part the game is on, the entire province is Morrowind.

Hrm. I'm going to skip the entire sewer thing for my next... be some other person... ah ha!
I have an idea, as usual, and will continue to use this character(s?)!


Mu wah ha ha ha ha...

Doubling myself... >_> Again.