Well, this is the starting of my new, hopefully longer living Fan Fiction. This is a very rough draft, AKA only edited and re-edited about 7 times. I know, I'm such a prefectionis. Anyways, this is an odd little gem that I have been kicking around for a while, and the name will soon mean something. Also, please reply with any comments and critiques, nagative or positive. And now, I'm off, and the story is starting. *Dissapears in a cloud of smoke*



CHAPTER ONE: The Trigger

The one question people love to ask me the most is definitely how. How I could just stroll in and out of a murder scene without any thought at all. How I could have evaded the law for so long even though I was so social. How I could possibly fit the accusations against me, and how the crimes could even be possible. I always answer these questions the same way, the cold stare they expect to see.

Lets back up a few years though, so you can understand me the way not many people can. I am Ordras Morvayn, surprisingly good-looking blacksmith living in Cyrodiil. The whole twisted, downward spiral I have been living in as of late started like most stories haven’t. Not with me angry, or happy, or doing anything interesting at all. My ash skinned hide was fast asleep on my soft, comfy bed. I wasn’t dreaming (though I wish I was because it would make this a little more interesting), nor was I looking into a black abyss for hours like normal. It was fast asleep, as in when you fall asleep and feel like you’ve napped for ten seconds. I woke up suddenly, though not groggy, not in pain, not covered in blood, but awake at least. Looking around my large, cluttered room; I noticed how early it was, as the candle I had lit earlier was still aflame. I walked through my room door, past the door of my currently travelling co-worker and past the door where my boss slept before he could afford a real house. After walking a few steps more and jumping down the stairs, all two of them, I was in the smithing room. Here, is where our story bursts from a dull cocoon and spreads the wings of an interesting plot twist.

A tall figure, at least a head taller then me, stood in the smithing room above a body. He wore loose, black leather pants with belts wrapped around various places. A dark cloak over a barely visible shirt ensured I had no guess to his weight, though he looked like he was quite lean from the little of him I could see, and he wore a Netch leather helm painted black. He looked like he killed Hitmen in his spare time. I looked at him, a monstrous looking killer clad in black, and he looked at me, an easy target Dark Elf clad in baggy underwear. He laughed a long, hardy laugh and reached into the pack on his back. I froze. He revealed something, but not a weapon. He threw a shirt and a pair of pants at me. I looked at him hard, and then the dead body of an Altmer he stood above. No one I worked with, my strange Nordic boss thought my co-worker and I were more than enough to do all the smith work his clients required. “Now” the stranger said with a booming voice, pointing at the clothes. I put them on quickly, nearly putting my head through an armhole. I can honestly say I have never felt a material so soft. Funny the things you notice while in shock fearing you might die.

The stranger blindfolded me, but he did it with care and believe you me, that wasn’t expected. He led me a few steps and then picked me up, which was probably awkward for I was pretty tall myself, and placed me in what seemed to be a cart. I heard the braying, naying and bustling of horses and then his dark, booming voice once again. “Close your eyes and your mind, Dark Elf, and fall asleep like you had been earlier” He was definitly a Dark Elf and before I could even think of something to say, I blurted out a blind sentence. “Are you violent?” I barely knew what I meant I was so sleepy and confused, but he did. He took a deep, calming breath before speaking. “No, and you can think of me as a friend as soon as you wake” he said it calmly and in a way only a good friend would, and sounded like he was smiling. What a gentleman.

Red, let me be the first to say that you are a very mysterious one. This "Defiantly Dark Elf" (did you mean 'definitely'?) is incredible in character. He is a very shady, but multi-faced guy. I can almost smell the pride when your lead man says "surprisingly good looking blacksmith." I am eager for more, Red.

this chapter blew me away plz carry on

ahhhhh where did you learn that? maybe we were trained by the same person?

Or did you learn from me? I lose track of some of my students, like when I had this one little girl...and we were at bandcamp...and she walked out of our training area...and I lost track of her...

interesting end btw.....I look forward to more of this story, nothing in here I didn't like, but I went through it very very fast, almost skimming. I been on here for way too long...rofl I will revisit later and see more detail, if I can.

Thanks for the positive reviews everyone, and the next update will come later tomorrow if I can find the time to edit a few thousand times . Chamber, I learned that skill from the anciant Udain Ninja clan, but you may have been a teacher there.

And about the spelling mistake, I was going to correct that earlier but forgot to from writing so much. Thanks for the reminder. Well, I'm off to work on the update and planning for the update after that. I am off! *dissapears in a cloud of chocolate milk powder*

Sure thing, Red. Can't wait to read more!

And on the seventh day, God created updates. The update will be up in like, three minutes so I can quick edit for flow and detail. Then the next update will be late. Maybe a day, maybe two, maybe a week. Hell, maybe I'll scrap the entire FF!

I had no dreams that night, which surprised me greatly. After being kidnapped by a gentleman killer, you expect to see something. Strange that I barely thought about the severity of my situation when I first awoke, as if I had known the stranger for ten years. A pair of hands reached down to me and gently removed my blindfold, and my eyes slowly adjusted. A kind, young looking Dark Elf face was hovering over mine. A smile was placed upon his, which was quite strange to see on a kidnapper. “I am deeply sorry about the whole kidnapping thing, but I’ll have you know that you are in quite a grand position. Well, despite the ropes” he said. I smiled, noticing the ropes around my hands and feet. I had been sleeping in a bed, I realized, as my senses came to me. “I some how doubt that, sir?” I asked and was quickly replied with “Sir. Ortei Draen, as of today, former assassin for very select clients”. My face went dumb. It was locked in the smile I was formerly wearing. He stopped hovering over me and climbed off the bed I was tied to. “Wait just a second, I’ll be back”.

I couldn’t decide what emotion to be stricken with. Fear, terror, confusion, they were all so tempting. He came back with a chest in his hands. Great, he has a chest of many weapons. A medley of maniacal masterpieces. Won’t this be a terrible day? “Stamped notes and contracts, friend” he said, laughing. I was sweating and getting ready to tear through the ropes. He walked over to me, placing the chest upon the bed, and untied the ropes. “I know you’re a little terrified of my former, occupation, but let me show you something,” he said, unlocking the chest and pulling out a piece of old, worn paper. I sat on the side of the bed and looked at the document, or what I could see. “This is a paper with the description of a target I had a few years ago. Now, I’m no fan of death and killing, but there are a few special exceptions. Oray Verlo is his name, a strange name especially for a Breton, or at least I think so. Any way, he was a rich, young and popular member of the city of Vivec who owned many businesses in the Foreign Quarter. He was though highly of, and yet, found dead in his home, smelling of liquor. Why? Because he had used the Morag Tong to kill a shop owner in Balmora, a guard in Ald’Ruhn and the brother of an Ordinator. I do not kill, I balance” he was talking calmly, which scared and amazed me at the same time.

“We don’t murder as the blood thirsty monsters of the Dark Brotherhood do, or kill with blind word for clients like the Morag Tong. We study our enemies, we find out their problems and perks, the injustices they have committed and even the people they have helped. If we find that their crimes are too large to possibly be allowed, we fix them. Whether the repair is threatening, persuasion, thievery or killing, we make sure the world is balanced” and with that he left and closed the door, but not before he packed up the chest and dropped a note on the floor.

I got up and looked around the room for something to wear, as I was still wearing the clothes Ortei had me put on during the kidnapping. I looked in the Wardrobe beside the bed I had awoke in and found only papers and assorted jewellery in the first three shelves, but some very fine, expensive pants, a beautiful shirt and a pair of shoes I recognized from a nobleman who had once bought one of my swords. “Hmm” I thought “he did kidnap and frighten me nearly to death, I think he owes me a little more than clothing”. I opened the second shelf and took out some of the rings, necklaces and amulets. A glass ring on my left middle finger and a ruby ring on my right. I put two necklaces around my neck, both metal with a small pendant on each. The rest of the jewellery I placed in my pockets.

I walked toward the door so I could try talking myself out of this mess and put my hand on the knob when I remembered something. During my time as a master thief, the thought of the note left my mind. I walked back to the piece of paper and picked it up. It was stamped in numerous places, including over the text by some one name Rainad Rawkil. It was written in the type of handwriting you would expect a king to have, or at least a duke.

Dear hearing,

You have been selected to become a member of our wonderful organization. You have been watched and found to be an extraordinary candidate worthy of an occupation in our ranks. Whether you are a warrior, a mage or what have you, we require your assistance in our war on imbalance. The karmatic battle if you will. If you agree, take a minute to think about your decision, for your head might be in the wrong place. If you agree after, you are a perfect candidate, and should talk to the person you have received this note from. If you do not accept, it was never meant to be, and you will be forced, through magick, to forget this whole ordeal.

Regards,

Rainad Rawkil,
The Office of Laegus Hawkherd.

Well, isn’t that nice, I’m an assassin or an amnesia victim. I pocketed the piece of paper and opened the door.

I find the idea of an organization dedicated to balancing the equation quite interesting. I'm really curious to see gain a better understanding of how they think an work.

Hey Red, nice to see you doing a fan fiction again. You write quite well and this story seems to be a very solid founcation which I hope you can find the inspiration to build on. Please continue.

Never! I will reach my three update minimum and then this will be done with .
New update soon, hopefully it will develope the characacters a little more. Also, expect actual action other than awkward conversations in the near future. The suspense is killing me .

Lol, I cannot allow you to stop writing this Red...you're gonna have to finish this one mate...or so help me...

Very interesting concept. I like how this is going but I fear that I should not get attached to it. I hope you follow this through I would really like to read more on this

An interesting organization. And an interesting way to get new recruits. If you keep writing, I'll be watching from the shadows.

Thanks for the high praise everyone.

Also, don't worry about this buckling Tailus, I'm a big fan of this story line and have many chapters planned out.

Ok everybody, I havn't updated in a week or so (get off my back, I have a life you know ) but don't think for a second I havn't been working. Editing, writting, push-ups, squats, medicine balls, bench pressing, weight-lifting, cardio-vascular excersises, kayaking, I was really trying to complete some chapters. Anyways, I have written a new chapter that does nothing except disrupt the flow of the story. Its really poorly written and you'll probably stop reading after three sentences, as it is covered with spelling mistakes and characters who seem thrown in at the last minute. Or atleast thats my thoughts on what a rough draft is . Bon appetite.

When I opened the door, a beautifully decorated hallway was revealed to me. It was decorated with potted plants and paintings that were more than art, and a window on either side of the wide hallway. “Good” I thought to myself, “maybe I won’t have to talk myself out of this terrible, terrible mess”. I started walking towards the window to my right, and then sped up. I kept going a little faster with each step until running was the only higher level. I got to the end, about 5 feet away from the window, where two hallways intersect. I noticed the weather outside. Snow covered the ground and tall, cluttered Pine Trees grew seemingly everywhere. Ortei couldn’t possibly have rode a cart all the way to here from where I lived. I put my arm out to reach the handle as I got closer, when a stranger’s voice ruined my escape. “Massera, you weren’t planning on opening a window were you? Its freezing outside” A Khajiit no doubt. I turned and examined her. She was short, skinny and dressed in what appeared to be a maid’s outfit. “Uh, no, I was just checking if someone had fixed the handle, for it was loose yesterday” I lied, but for my own good. Questions I wanted to ask ran through my mind, but I doubted they would tell a maid anything I wanted to know. “Lunch is almost ready sera, you should join us” she had a sweet, sincere voice that made me certain she wasn’t in on this. “What are we having?” I asked, and was answered promptly. “Sheep steak with a side of imported scuttle to be mashed. We will also be having comberry jam as an early dessert” she smiled and walked off, and I knew she had convinced me. I walked around the hallways for a few minutes, trying to find the dining hall, but seemed to find everything but it. The bathrooms, the cooking area, the training room, the armoury, even the storage locker were found before I heard the distinct sound of a large group of people talking and eating. I readied myself to go in, for I wasn’t about to give up a free, delicious meal.

I rehearsed the lines I was sure would have them accept me for lunch, and took a deep breath. I opened the door slowly, and was hit with my worst fear. No one was paying attention to me. “This isn’t how the plan was to work” I thought, standing frozen and dumbfounded. Everyone was just sitting around the table, eating the appetizers already set out. I decided to speak, but my mouth closed shut the second I opened it. “Oh Azura please get me out of this one” I thought, which was useless. Few gods reign over awkward situations, not even those barbaric Imperial ones. Just when I was ready to fall over dead, a Bosmeri man approached me. Oh thank whatever strange wood elf god has saved me. “I am sorry for making you stand for a seat sir, please follow me to your seat” by please follow me to your seat, he of course meant to say “please let me rudely grab your arm and drag you to a seat between two Nords who likely eat bones for breakfast”, for that is what he did. Oh my lords did Bosmer get on my nerves. I’m not racist or anything, but they always have a cheap smile plastered on their faces that go great with their ugly personalities.

I sat down and stared at the full plate in front of me. A beautiful salad with luscious green lettuce, a cornucopia of fruits and vegetables and a delicious dressing. I expected an appetizer or two, but this was what I could only dream of in an ugly province like this. Why was it like a dream? Probably because it was the meal I deserved. I looked to either side of me and was amazed. Everyone was discussing politics and local events, and everyone, including the three Orcs and four Nords, were eating as politely as a king. I picked up the salad fork to my left, and started eating slowly, as to savour the taste. Most of the people at the table were done before I started my food, but I was perfectly fine with that as they would be served the main course and I could have time to say “Can I have my steak done like that?” or “oh, that looks like too much Scuttle for me”.

I sat eating and listening, and halfway through a delicious piece of lettuce the High Elf across from me, with a voice that screamed confidence, spoke. “Did Ortei fill you in on all of the specifics of our wonderful organization?” he waited for an answer, and I almost choked trying to gulp down the food in my mouth as to keep him from waiting. “Not exactly, but I know about how you fix the evils of the world Mr.?” he looked at me when I said evil, as if it was an alien word. “We do not use words such as good and evil in this place. Actually, ban it from your vocabulary. We believe that there are sides and a medium, not good and evil, as it is ineffective. We have ideals and thoughts, and the other side has ideals and thoughts. To us, they may be the evil invading conquerors, to them; we may be the evil godless rebels. Its all about views. Oh, and the name is Caneyelle.” That was something that has stayed with me throughout my life. “Ahh, that is quite the belief there. Interesting, it is foreign, but so true. I have a question though. Are there reasons other than spiritual fulfilment (a thing an Imperial Cult recruiter once promised me) that may lead me into your beautiful order?” I asked, and was surprised by his answer. “Of course. We are not promising the moons and stars, but we are will give you what you need and what you deserve. You need housing? You have it. Need Septems? You got them. Need a beautiful lunch and a contract so you can sign up? It’ll be here as soon as you’re done the appetizer. Your wish is granted” he smiled and ate the last piece of sheep steak, thus finishing the lunch on his part.

The main course was on its way as I finished my salad, and I can honestly say it was indescribable. I had never had scuttle that was so good, and when I lived in Morrowind, every meal came with this side dish. I talked with some of the others enjoying the main course, and they’re conversation was so elegant that I forgot completely about the kidnapping. I can see why so many people had joined this intriguingly strange group because I would join just for the conversation. I finished the food and it was promptly taken away from me and replaced with a Comberry jam. As I moved a small spoon into the dish and brought it to my mouth, Caneyelle put a contract in front of me along with a small, capped ink well and a feather pen. I finished the dish and read the contract at least thirty times, making sure that I wasn’t signing up for the Imperial army or as a future project for a Necromancy cult. I signed seven times and when I was done, Caneyelle stamped the paper with a thud, which nearly scared the ash off my skin. People cheered and clapped, because apparently stamping forms was popular in this region.

I am so glad you have a future planned for this work Red. I was scared when everyone was saying how you better finish this one making me think that it might not get a chance to get off the ground but I am so glad that you already have ideas for future chapters. Now I can enjoy it without fear of it suddenly vanishing without a trace.

Ah, an update. It was a good one. The high elf had some very good lines.

Just a quick nod to let you know that I think this is a great story. I haven't had a chance to read everything yet, but I sure do like what I have seen so far. The concept of balancing lives, actions, events- brilliantly depicted.

The High Elf's philosophy was a typical one, if I do say so myself, but this only added to the story. keep going, Red. I'm intrigued.

Okay, updating time. I have written about five updates worth of material that needs to be edited, re-edited, re-re-edited and then read over three times, so that will be trickeling around here slowly and steadily. In the meantime, rough edit update time! Enjoy and get ready for action, intrigue, plot-twists and romance (probably not, actually, but we'll see what the future holds ) in the future.






The rest of the day was quite strange. Caneyelle had me follow him room to room and explained its purpose, but briefly as if he too thought the tour was almost useless. He answered my questions about certain books in the library and other such unimportant facts, but would not get into much detail. When something was too touchy, like how does someone go about balancing the world, he either said it was unimportant at the time or I would learn very soon. This scared me, as I am the kind of guy who avoids running into things blindly. He walked me down the last hall and through a thick, wooden door that creaked loudly as it opened. The room inside was quite large, with a soft, feather bed, a table and six seats, numerous cupboards, three chests and some small metal boxes with keys sitting on top. “This is your room newcomer, it has space for sleeping and sitting and many chests and such to store your loot and plunder. I am down the hall, the door with the large C on the front if you need me, but other than that I really don’t think there is anything else you need other than these” he passed me two papers and a package, all covered in familiar stamps and handwriting. He left and I sat down on one of the seats at my table and read the first note. It had neat handwriting in the blank spaces and I could tell this was done with a printing press and not by hand. The first note read:

Dear newcomer

You have joined this organization under Ortei Draen and Caneyelle, who believe that your skills in smithing, knowledge of weapons and general intelligence can help the Balance. Please find in the connected package, if you have been given one, a thousand Septems, a pain of leather gloves and two restore endurance potions .

Additional notes: Page two is a mission briefing so read it a few times over. I want you to get the mission done independently as otherwise, how could we trust you? Good luck and Godspeed. From the office of Laegus Hawkherd.

I was flattered with the general intelligence remark, and that he would give me so many Septems for a mission, but leather gloves? Am I to choke someone? I picked up the second page and was amazed.

Your first mission is quite peculiar to say the least. It will seem to be a simple task, but you will see how simple tasks unfold. We need you to infiltrate an illegal fist-fighting arena in the city of Wayrain. See? Told you it would be peculiar. Now, we do not care that is illegal (nor do the authorities in Wayrain), but that a certain person has been placing large bets and willing. He has accumulated tens of thousands of Septems in possibly rigged games, and even the underworld needs to be balanced justly. Now, we do not want you to hurt or kill him, so you should gain his respect and then work from there. You would be best to join the arena and use those strong Smithing arms to fight your way to respect. After that, its your decision.

On the one thousand Septems, they are to reward your decision to join and to help you on your first mission. Travel the roads west from here (Ravenrest, by the way) to Skull Drop, a small outpost and village. Then travel to the city of Wayrain by foot. Get directions when you get to Skull Drop, as I have never travelled as far north as Wayrain, as I have little interest in the once Nordic parts of Cyrodiil. Ask the night life locals about the fighting ring, as the guards will be cautious of you if you go around talking of illegal activities.

That is all you need to know, or at least all I want to tell you. Now rest up and ready yourself for the mission. You leave tomorrow on horseback without guide and must follow an ancient road west to Skull Drop, so getting lost will be easy.

Caneyelle

Well that’s great I thought, I leave tomorrow to do a deed for an organization I barely understand and joined because I like the food and talk. And worst of all, I’m a budding fist-fighter. I do have the strength, intelligence and quick thinking for it, but this is so soon and so strange. Well, at least I’ll be doing something other than boring smithing, the job I was forced into by my family. Hmm, family, they don’t even know where I am, why I’m there, what I’m doing or why I’m doing it. Also, no big dumb bosses are making me forge swords that often aren’t used for fighting, and no co-worker constantly going on about his stupid girlfriend. I smiled and dressed into my sleeping attire (AKA took off my shirt, shoes, socks and pants) and climbed into bed. For the first time in a long time, I dreamed.

A nice update. Please write more.

Very nice update Red, I really liked the note he recieved, it seemed very professional and I can't wait for the next part. Update soon!

Yes pleas sir....update again when you find the opportunity to do so, it´s really good!

*climbing to the pinnicle of the mountain above the town and its people, the scholar Redeus speaks*

What my people ask, my people recieve! Updates be plentiful!





I dreamed that I was running towards a cloud of smoke. It was nighttime and the dark sky was turned even darker with said black smoke that billowed out as if this was a Dwemer factory (though I had only heard about them). After running for what seemed like hours, I noticed I was clad in heavy clunking armour, and the smoke turned into an enormous burning building. Covered in fire arrows, it was sure to completely burn to the ground within minutes, and yet I ran towards it without hesitation. I had no fear, or thought of danger, but only the dreaded reality that I might not make it in raced across my mind. I drew a beautiful katana from seemingly nowhere, and held it behind my head. I got to the door and swung my sword with much force, and the door exploded into splinters and chips. I looked around the room, and saw almost nothing but fire, smoke and a spiralling staircase. I ran up the spiralling staircase, ignoring the two bodies I stepped over going up. I seemed to know exactly where I was going strangely enough.

I was about three steps from the second floor, when I heard the sound of metal bending. The staircase buckled and snapped in half and the support beam that ran through the middle of the staircase fell off the ceiling. The upper part of the staircase fell with the beam so I jumped toward the very place the staircase once connected to. I held on, with only my arms and head at level, trying to climb up. The tile floor I was holding onto wasn’t very safe to grip, and I started sliding back. I swung my left arm to get a better grip but the tiles my arm landed on snapped and slipped. I held on by my right hand, without much of a grip. I slipped and started my slow descent to the ground. My dream ended thank Azura, and I sprung up covered in sweat. I noticed the sun was out outside of my window. I climbed out of bed and dressed back up in my clothes from yesterday.

I walked out my door with the package and papers. I thought about asking Caneyelle about the whereabouts of the horse, but remembered that I had no idea how early it was. I navigated through the building, and not seeing anyone, I guessed it was quite early. I found the front door after a few minutes searching, and walked through. A man on horse back was coming through the forest with a pull cart connected to the horse. I waved, and waited for him to answer my gesture. He came closer and closer, before his horse stopped about five feet in front of me. The rider was wearing a long, thick robe that had been made completely of pelts and a strange bear helm upon his aged, Redguard head.

“You must be cold, Dunmer. Go to the cart attached to my horse and fish out the fur robe and bear helm” he was right. I had been shivering for the last few minutes as snow, which already covered much of the ground and trees, fell to Cyrodiil. I did exactly as he had said, fishing out the clothing, but noticed something strange. The cart was full of enchanted weapons. I dared not take one as I put on the robe and helm, but wondered how such treasures were found in a barren (well, my definition of barren means lacking Dwemer buildings) region such as this. The Redguard climbed off the horse and unhooked the cart, moving it away from the beast. “You best watch yourself on the ancient road and in Skull Drop, the road is full of animals and criminals this time of year, not to mention barbarians, and Skull Drop is a site often travelled to by grudge holding war mongerers and insane soldiers. Now take this horse and travel the road. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT, turn at any crossroads or intersections, because all of them lead to danger” at that moment the Redguard undid his scabbard from under his robe and drew a blade. This is my katana, Shald, and I trust that you will try to avoid using it. If you meet trouble along the road, feel its energy run through you, and become the acrobat. I’ll explain the sword when you get back, and I hope it will be in one piece” he sheathed the sword, handed me the sword and scabbard and turned and started pulling his cart toward a building before vanishing through its large door. I approached the horse.

Horses. We Dunmer are not too fond of horses. We can ride Silt Striders and other native bugs, walking or flying, but yet we seem to lack the ability to ride a western beast. I noticed the foot handles at the bottom of the, brown, thing, and put my right foot in. I slumped onto the horse and slowly moved my left foot over and down to the other, foot, thing. I hopped a little, and pushed my self onto what seemed to be meant for sitting on, and held the, brown, rope, thing. Lord Nerevar did these westerners love brown. Brown seat, brown rope thing, brown foot thing, brown horse with brown eyes. What a repulsive colour.

Great update Red, wonderfully written and had a bit of humor laced into it through the customs of the character. I especially liked this part,


Very good Red, keep it up.

Hmm, that dream is worrying. And what is wrong with brown? Oh well, you can't argue about taste. Keep the updates coming.

Sorry about the really, really, really, rediculously long wait everybody! Please accept my utmost apologizes. My computer was broken and I was forced onto a computer that lacked the document The Balance. Updates coming any minute now that my computer is up and running.

I held the rope thing in both hands, and waved it up and down three times as I had once seen a Cyrodiil guard do. The horse started moving and though it was slow, I congratulated myself. I waved the rope a little faster as I got used to the animal, and noticed why people like these beasts so much. The skill needed to move one of these is very low, and it gives you quite the height advantage. The hose sped up to what seemed like a jog and I shook unsteadily. We road into the ancient dirt road, and I was surprised by the lack of snow. The canopy of large, pined trees stopped the ground from being covered.

The road twisted and turned around enormous trees, large rocks and what seemed to be Nordic statues, but I had not yet seen any crossroads to ignore. As I rode the road got steadier and more level, with small rocks on either side of the path. I rode for a good three minutes at the horses jogging speed, when I decided to slow down. I pulled on the brown rope hard, and the horse stopped. I almost fell off of the beast because of the sudden stop and cursed under my breath. I waved the brown things twice and the beast started walking at a steady pace. It gave me a chance to look around at the Northern plants and trees, but they didn’t much interest me. After not too long, I could spot a crossroads. But something was strange about it. Something very strange.

White smoke was coming from the side of the cross roads, and I could hear voices. But that wasn’t all. A large statue of a man statue stood in the middle of the crossroads, and flowers and shrubs surrounded him. I drew Shald, my new borrowed sword, and watched the trees and smoke cautiously. “Ay! Andei! Someone’s come to pay their respects!” a voice yelled in the direction of the smoke. He was obviously Imperial. A tall, Imperial man walked out of the forest and my horse stopped dead in its tracks. He was clad in a armour I had never seen, but it looked like the armour of a high-ranking Imperial officer. “You aren’t a Nord” he said, and I interrupted before he could say anymore. “Really? I guess I’ve been living a lie” he smiled, but still looked angry that I had disrespected him with a interruption and insulted him. I sometimes tell jokes when I’m nervous, but this was self-confidence, not fear. “That’s too bad. And here I thought I saw a nice Nord women, but all along it was an ash-man” that angered me. Ash-man is a un-common racist name that is meant to insult Ashlanders, but is even more insulting to a normal Dunmer. “You could have said Dunmer, or Dark-elf, but you chose to seal your fate” I kept my anger hidden and span my sword around to show my swordsmanship. “Seal my fate? What is my fate? Killing a Dark-elf?” He drew a katana from a leather sheath on his hip.

I climbed off my horse and it walked over to some trees behind me. I knew if I fought on horseback he’d just kill my horse. Another three men came out of the forest, all armed with Claymores and wearing normal Imperial armour. “We were going to let you go if you gave us that sword and some money, but now were going to cut you to pieces” one of the three new Imperials said, trying, and failing, to spin his sword as I did. All the spells I had ever learned in my life ran through my mind, all fifteen of them. Most of them I had learned to help around the house and the armoury, but I had been taught a few by my co-worker that were obviously offensive. The one that came to mind was “Ice lord’s end”, which was a unpredictable, incredibly dangerous fireball and I had never been able to cast it before. Oh well, I guess its melee for me. “Wow, I see your soldiers are so well trained they know to try copying me. Really, give the sword spin another go while I burn your leader into ash” I laughed and span my sword from one hand to the other to mock the soldier. “Do you have any experience with a blade other than acrobat tricks?” another one of the soldiers said. “Well, considering I am an Armourer and train with five different sword an hour a day, yes, yes I do. Do you have any skills other than calling on friends to do your bidding?” I hit him where it hurts, his pride and ego. “Oh yeah? Well, how about me and you fight to the death, no friends?” I shook my head when the leader said that, and the soldiers stepped back.

Wait, you didn't think one update was good enough? Do I ever dissapoint? Like Ali did for his fans, I will use quick stricking tactics to win the crowd by rope-a-dopeing yet another update! My adjectives hit harder than a unexpected, left handed, out of a counter haymaker!



He ran at me with his katana behind his head, which I fully expected. He swung at me and I stepped to his side, kicking him in the ribs as he passed by. He gave out a large “ouff!” sound as he fell to the ground rolling. He got up quickly expecting me to attack, but I was smart enough to stay put. He circled me, pretending to be threatening, and I just watched him. He slowly walked towards me and thrust his sword, and I once again sidestepped to safety. I swung my sword, and hit him hard on the right Pauldron. The Pauldron snapped as my sword struck it, and he was left staggering. I kicked his right leg, at the outter side of his knee. He twisted and fell to one knee, but was not off guard. To prove this, he stood and span, swinging his sword. I blocked vertically, thus saving my neck, but my sword fell to the ground. I took a few steps backwards as he picked up my sword, laughing. “And you thought you could win with your cheating tactics. Kicking in the ribs, you swine” he spoke slowly, gasping, apparently his last swing helped keep him breathless. I put my hand up, still shaking from the last swing. I spoke a fast few magickal words; even though I doubted my ability to cast the spell.

Death is a very funny thing. Everyone thinks that it’s so terribly awful, but in certain circumstances they support it. Kill a person, and it’s a long time in a small cell. But kill a murderer, and there is no remorse. Either someone sees you and announces you a hero, or no one sees and no one cares. You barely even realize that you have done it. Actually, it takes a few days before you even think of it again, even though your life will never be the same. What I think I’m trying to say is though, your very first kill is the start of the end.

A fireball emerged from the air near my palm, and it soared to my enemy. I had gone far from him before I cast the spell, so it took a second for him to realise what was happening. It’s flames roared and grew as they took up oxygen, and the fire spread from his head to his toes. “BAM” was the sound it made, and he was pushed with such force that his helm came off and flipped three times where his body stood before falling to the ground. He made no sound, no yell, no cry, no scream, but the tree he hit did. It cracked, loudly when he hit it, and after he had fallen to the ground, a large crater was left where he had hit. “So that’s why I couldn’t cast the spell” I though, though I should have been thinking, “What have I done?”. I had never cast it before because casting it wasn’t needed or safe. My body knew that it was needed only in a situation like this.

The remaining soldiers ran, and ran fast. I coughed from the smoke, turned, and walked towards my horse. I climbed on to my horse and waved the brown rope three times, and it moved forward. It walked me past the statue at the cross roads, when yet again I was sidetracked. “Sir?” a strong, Nordic voice came out of nowhere, and almost startled me off of my beast. “You killed that insane Captain and have reclaimed the glory to the Nords. Praised be you!” he bowed, which looked awkward considering his steel armour, and I smiled. Hmm, it seems these Nords value that rock, and apparently I have rescued it, so maybe this ordeal will bring rewards. “Yes, but I do not do it for the praise, but for this statue to live in glory” he looked shocked when he stood up, as if I had insulted his gods. “No, no, no, no, you do not understand the task you have just completed. Those men have controlled this road for ten years, and their fathers and mothers held it for thirty years, and who knows how long their ancestors held it. They force us to pay gold to see this monument to our ancestors, and worst of all they force you to give them at least two items of value to use the cross roads. The city I belong to, Wayrain, has tried to attack them and take back what is ours, but every time the mad Imperials of Skull Drop track us and attack us. Oh, that reminds me. Where are you headed stranger?” I thought about saying Skull Rock, but I reminded myself if he’s from Wayrain and would likely try to avoid Skull Drop, there must be another way to my destination. “Wayrain, of course” he smiled before whistling, and a horse emerged from behind some rocks.

Excellent updates and a well-drawn fight scene. As I said before, this is one that I will follow with great interest.

Damnit Red, this story rocks I really love they way you go into you're character and his thoughts, really nice done as always but I think you've improved comparing it to you're old fan fictions... So I'm waiting for a update m8

*Appears in a cload of chocolate milk mix*

Sorry about the lack of updates, I just wrote like, twelve chapters that you all will enjoy. Updates ho!

Before we left for Wayrain, he searched around the tents my attacker had set up around the fire pit. We searched each tent, finding thousands of stolen Septems and many valuable weapons, armours and assorted paraphernalia. We found two old horse carts and attached them to the backs of our beasts and filled them with the stolen goods. It was funny, actually, because as we went through the goods, the unnamed Nord would say “this is my old sword!” or “this is hordurr’s staff!” and other such things along those lines. After loading our carts, we did exactly what the Redguard said not to do. He took me left on the crossroads, and then turned on to a barely visible path at a fork in the road. As we rode on, the path started to become more and more decorated. Torches coming from the ground, painted stones and the road even turned to cobblestone. We road for at least thirty minutes before we found an enormous clearing. It was covered in snow, and in the very centre a large statue of a axe-wielding Nord could be seen. The Nord cracked the brown rope hard and fast, and before I knew what this action did, I did it too in reaction. The beasts bolted forward at an incredible speed, and all I could do was hold on. He did it again and again, and his horse stayed at the speed it had been going. I cracked it twice, even though I was sure I would fall off my horse. We rode and rode before we got to the trees, and I pulled on the rope, this time not too hard, and we both slowed down. “About two hours slow riding if you want to ride slow, an hour tops if you want to speed up. I think we should let our horses get use to the cobblestone before speeding up, because we can’t stop to let them rest or heal them if they get hurt. These woods are filled with wolves and madmen because this road was used mostly when Cyrodiil was only a thought on the minds of man” He seemed to have great respect for these forests and roads, and was obviously mad that it had turned so dark.

We rode for about an hour before we could see smoke rising from the trees. “You have now passed the border to Skyrim, friend. That smoke will lead you to Wayrain, and I hope you get the welcome you deserve. I warn you though, when you decide to leave, the road we used will not bring you back to the crossroads. It is ancient, sacred and Magickal, and it is one way only. Anyways, I must be off, because my house is to the east for I hunt for a living. Good luck!” I couldn’t believe what I heard. Telvanni changing doors and warped hallways I had heard of, but a one-way forest path? How is that possible, especially for a land of swords and shields? I shook off my questions and watched as he attached his cart to mine and then rode off to the east. As I started riding again I noticed how long we had been riding because the sun, high in the sky, was now barely visible through the trees. For the last few minutes I felt like it was nighttime. Before long I could see buildings in the distance, and I heard faint sounds through the trees, which were getting less thick and some chopped down.

I rode the cobblestone path to the town, through a large, doorless stone gate with Wayrain written in square letters. The houses where made of wood and stone, and all of them had a chimney, and some had multiple ones. The town was bigger than I had expected, it was about the size of Balmora, but less organized and much more Nordic. Everyone I saw was Nordic, or a very large specimen of his or her race. All of the people just stared at me, just like what the Ashlanders did to Nerevar. I stopped my horses slow walking, as I had rode farther than my brain, with no leads to the fighting ring, or the person or people extorting it, as the people of Wayrain surrounded me getting ready to question me. Then I remembered how I could get talking instead of sitting here like a fool. “People of Wayrain!” I spoke with a confident and booming voice. “I have freed our sacred crossroads! Tribute and worship is restored!” the Nords looked to each other, with strange looks on their faces. “Our? Who are you and how do you know of the Crossroads?” a man yelled out, and people agreed with his statement by shaking their heads. “I am Ordras Morvayn, reclaimer of our crossroads and your goods!” I climbed off my beast and took out a shield and sword from the first cart. “Whom do these arms belong to?” I said, raising the items. “Uh, the sword is mine and the shield is probably Hordvjer’s” a man spoke, walking up and talking the sword. I laid the shield down until the Hordvjer fellow came and claimed it. This practice went on for an hour or two, people claiming what is rightfully theirs. During this time though, I noticed that there were at least a hundred people in this large, wooden town, how could a few thugs scare them all for so many years?

After everyone had claimed their merchandise, they hollered and yelled thanks and praise to me. Well, either thanks and praise or they were cussing at me, but I doubt the later. They showed me where to stable my horse and where I could sleep and eat, and after a long tour they went back to their jobs. Well, except for about five enormous Nords who brought me to the local and only watering hole. We sat at a large table and ordered me a Matze, demanding I tell the story of the Outlaw’s death. “Well” I started as the leaned in, waiting to hear the tale of an amazing fight. “It was more about outsmarting the oaf than being stronger than him, though I was both” they all smiled as I continued. “He ran at me exactly how I had imagined, sword in the air and brain somewhere else” they laughed hardily, I guessed they shared my insulting humour. “I simply stepped to the side and as he passed me, gave him a strong boot to the side. He tumbled over and rolled on the ground where he belonged, and I readied myself for his next try. He circled me and eventually made another strike, trying to put his sword through my stomach. I dodged to his right and swung, hitting and destroying his right Pauldron. He almost lost balance and to get his to the ground, I kicked him dead in the knee. He fell to that knee, and stood turning and swinging. I blocked vertically, but my Shald, my katana, fell from my hand. I rolled backwards twice and he picked up my sword. I raised one hand, and with barely a thought, shot a fireball at the bastard. He flew back into a tree, making a good dent in it I must say” They cheered and yelled, and one ordered me a Cyrodillic brandy. Telling that story opened my eyes finally. I killed a man.

Because I see no reason to put a huge post here, I will simply double update. Read the three paragraphs above before you read this please. Anyways, Shazaam!





I bought a bed in the local inn that night and promised the Nords I had met I would catch up with them in a few days. Apparently everything was going swell for me in the town of Wayrain, but I still did not know how these people could have lost the crossroads for so long. Did those men have connections to higher powers? Was that man an important Imperial? If he was their leader, why did he pass so easily? Was I following the rules of the Balance? What is the Balance? I was terrified of my own, racing mind. I put my head on my pillow and pulled the covers over myself after climbing into the bed in my room. My room was thin and long and kept my horrifying thoughts condensed, with barely enough room to step into the bed sideways. I was attacked by my thoughts and paranoid worries, and trying to fall asleep or distract myself failed miserably, until I drifted to sleep after about two hours of wishing my mind stopped it’s assault. I dreamed again.

My dream started with me falling, but the house I was previously in was now completely full of flames and smoke. I crashed into a wooden table, destroying the glass jars and plates that sat upon it and making projectiles of the cutlery. I heard a loud crack as the table snapped in half, and then the shattering of glass. I expected myself to be out of the running, but a voice ran through my head, calling me forward. “Go! You must get up or you will die!” I followed the voices instructions and stood. I thought for a few seconds about what I shall do in this situation, until I noticed myself floating into the air. I didn’t cast a spell, nor was I being aided by some supernatural being. I remembered the glass shattering from under me and came to the conclusion I had shattered a Rising Force potion under me. I didn’t remember getting any of the potion in my mouth, but that was unimportant.

I floated to the second floor before the potion wore off and regained my balance. I had tampered with these potions before and learned that you lose your footing going from levitation to walking. The second floor was not as smoke and flame filled as the first, but in one general area there was a huge smoke cloud. A new voice was heard, but in the smoke and not in my head. “Are you Commona Tong?” he was defiantly a Redguard, and I replied eventually. “No. Are you?” I was answered quickly and bluntly. “No. I guess you live, but don’t follow me. I have enough on my hands here without another mouth to feed” the smoke cleared and he started toward a wall. He raised his left hand, which was covered by a blood stained glass gauntlet that seemed more expensive than anything else on the Redguard. The wall exploded and I started running towards him despite his earlier instructions.

Two very nice updates Red, the story becomes more and more interesting Hope you'll post some more today...

As a moderator, it is my duty to crush those hopes and dreams

Crush them beneath another update at 4:00! Evil!

Noo...Red is following in Wolfies footsteps...hey wait, we have a new Dark Lord of the si...er...a new Dark Lord of the Chorrol.com forums...

But, I am reading the last of the st5ory now, I really like the principle of the organisation.,...so I'll be waiting4updates:P

But, dont let it be to long for them to come...

Just for that, the update is coming earlier! Congratulations! Your vocabulary wins!

I woke up and was relieved the half-nightmare was over. I lied in bed for a few minutes, wondering what time it was, until I heard a knock at my door. I swung out of bed and slammed my knee against the wall, and decided I would complain to the manager later about the lack of space. Groggy and wearing nothing but my drawers, I opened the previously locked door, and I can honestly say I was surprised. A Nord, clad in Dwemer armour (excluding a helm), wearing an enormous smile, pushed his way past me and into my room. Two Nords and a Redguard came in and ensured there wasn’t any breathing room and a Orc stood at my doorway. “My lords Dunmer, where do you keep your mead? Under the bed?” the dwemer clad Nord said. I could now recognize him; he was one of the people who bought me a drink at the pub. He searched around my room, in all the drawers and even under the bed. “No mead? No strength potions? Not even any armour? You must be stronger than I thought Dunmer! Get your robe and helm and meet us in the hall” he, and the others, left my room carrying my few pieces of equipment save my robe, shirt, pants and my helm. They even took my sword on loan!

I dressed myself quickly and ran out the door. “Ok, I’m here. Can I have my, everything back? I have some important folders in the bag you took” the Redguard threw me a large sack. Barely catching it, I examined it. “It has your bag and some assorted potions. Also, there’s plenty of room to store ingredients, loot, plunder and booty” the Redguard smiled while he talked, but his words were still unsettling. The men started walking down the hall and opened a thick wooden door. I followed, still wondering what in the good lord’s name was going on. A large, previously unseen by me Dunmer closed the door behind me as I entered, and locked the door. The room was quite large and was filled with crates and was centred with a large, eight seated table. Everyone sat down, and I did the same.

“Murder, thievery and corruption. These are the three least terrible problems with Skull Drop. Founded by Imperial exiles and criminals, the “city” was occupied by the Emperor’s men, but the citizens killed the soldiers. They took their armour and burned the bodies, claiming that they were impostors and that they were the only true followers of the Emperor. They established their commune farther, and regularly attack neighbouring towns to train and plunder. Our previous attacks, all three of them, have failed. Some of the people in our village consider leaving, many believe that their leaders are unfit to make decisions and the town’s morale is terribly low. Jorg Ravenwise, our most spiritual citizen, read the stars, and says that we failed because were leaderless, even when we had commanders. I now understand what he meant” I knew what he was about to say, so I straightened up in my seat before looking around the room. ”We were afraid to attack the lowliest of Skull Drop’s thugs, and we lost our own support. But now our star hero has come, and we can finally save ourselves. He made short work of a great warrior and is recommended by our friend Caneyelle and Jorg, but even then we cannot trust him fully. As our Nord ancestors did to prove themselves as the bodyguards of the founders of this city, he will do unto us. Prove yourself to us, Star hero, and we will trust you” great, now I must prove myself to people I hardly know, to lead an attack I didn’t plan.

Hmmmmm...why does that sound familiar? Ah its probably nothing...

Anyways great updates Red, great to see that you've found the time to add content so frequently and there's plenty of it as well. Good job mate and keep up the good work.

Hey, have yourself a for frequent updates.

The Waiting4updates line will be like the S.G.M around here eventually, only a few of us will remember what its from...well as soon as the W4O banner and such are replaced the newcomers will only know about Chorrol and W4O will be gone forever.

Ah yes, I've only joined Waiting4Oblivion in its final days. But I'll be waiting4oblivion for a while before I manage to scrape together the money needed to buy the necesary hardware to run it. (Hey, I only need to close a gap of 8 years. )

Anyway, I like the story. So I'll be waiting4updates!

El Chupaupdate! Flee the village!

After the meeting was over, some of us left the room and then the building. I finally had my belongings back and walked straight into the pub for a drink like I did every day. And then I realized something scarier than any impending battle. I had been regularly visiting the bar since I came to this Nordic land, I was wearing pelts and furs, I’m involved in a raid and my sword had a name. I was turning Nordic. My fears didn’t clear when I entered the bar either, as I knew the names of the bartender, the two waitresses and the best hunter in town and I was drinking strange Nordic liquors. I thought about drinking away my problems like the corner club drunks did back in Morrowind, but it was no use.

“Can I get you something Ordras? The usual stupid Nordic meat with the stupid Nordic fruits?” she could tell I was angry and obviously understood I was home sick. Actually, I’ve been home sick ever since I became a smith for a Nord in Cyrodiil. “Well Ingvild White Mane, I think I’ll have anything that resembles a steak. Do you have anything that resembles a steak?” she smiled as did I. “Well, we have sheep steak, but compared to Morrowind meats…” we both laughed, and I could only answer with “Touché”. I don’t know what that means, to be honest, but apparently fencers say it in that situation. Which reminds me, I love fencers, but I guess I should get back on topic.

She walked away to fetch me my sheep steak and I simply sat and thought about the trial before me. Should I even try? I came her for the balance, not for the people of Wayrain. Although, I guess I could complete my balance job, claim that to pass the trial and then consult Cheyenne about this battle. Yes, that’s the plan. Damn was I a great thinker. In twenty years, there’s going to be a song called the great thinker and fighter about me. Oh god, another symptom of Nordishness, story songs. I was so worried about my identity crisis, I didn’t notice the brute of an Orc who walked right up beside me. “I asked around town about you Ash-king, and everyone said you can pull your weight in ebony. You wanna learn how we fight in Wayrain” I knew exactly what he meant, save the Ash-king part. Have I been complimented, or insulted? Apparently he understood exactly why I was stalling. “Oh, sorry, Ash-king is what my family called a Dunmer who can easily hold his own. It’s a high compliment” I smiled and was happy to see an Orc who wasn’t a complete and utter brute. “How about you sit down here, order something to eat and we’ll talk over some mead?” oh yeah, I knew Orc tradition. They like their talk like they like their meals, accompanied with alcohol.

He ordered a strange Orcish dish and started into his proposal quite fast. “You seem quite strong Dunmer, and you’ve proven yourself worthy of high praise. We at the, unofficial hand to hand arena, think you would be a great candidate for our wonderful organization. Now, the Empire has banned organizations like ours, but its arm is out of our reach and everyone in the town could care less. For example…” the Orc stood up on his chair and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hey everybody! I’m asking our Dunmer hero if he wants to join the fighting circle! Any one care at all?” most people in the pub ignored him completely, though a few people yelled things like “join! We need more entertainment!” and “c’mon! It’ll be fun!” He sat back and continued as if nothing had just happened. “This town’s economy is expected to boom after we raid Skull Drop and we’re already seeing the positive effects of you’re fight with the highwaymen. With you fighting, people will bet more money on the arena and the money will go around even more, helping the city even more. Now, we have to ask you to do one thing for us, an outlander came months ago and has called every game correctly, becoming a very wealthy man in a small city. Something strange is going on, and its not just parlour tricks or seerism. If you can find out what he’s been doing, our town will be very grateful” the food came along with our drinks, and we had a very nice lunch. I had learned much of this town just from our meal conversation, and learned how smart these strange people were.

If you're a fan of W4O Fan Fiction, you owe it to yourself to read this.

I spent the rest of that day looking for some quality items to spend my money on, but none of the swords and such phased me. Also, because the Nords believed I was a skilled unarmored fighter, so I had to pass right by all the wonderful armours. I rented a new room at a bed and breakfast at the edge of town, and spent the extra money on the largest room they had. It took up an entire floor of the building and was cheaper than I would have ever expected. They said that no one needed a room this big for months, and that If I simply paid an extra 200 gold I could rent it for as long as I needed it. I covered my self in the dreamily soft covers of the bed and fell asleep.

I was in a cave, but it wasn’t wet and cold like the caves of my home, it was warm and candle-lit. “We’ll live here for a day or two, then I’ll teleport us back to Balmora when the heat is off” it was the Redguard from my other dreams, but he didn’t seem so threatening. His face was kind and wild at the same time, with a strange haircut I had once heard called “dreadlocks”. “You can thank me about the prison incident later, right now we have to keep calm, keep warm and keep undetected. We’re safe here, just don’t aggravate any of Anxkharghe’s creations and be kind to him. He’s a necromancer, but he is kind to the living and has gotten me out of many hard times” A necromancer? A NECROMANCER? I’M LIVING IN THE CAVE OF A NECROMANCER? My words didn’t match my thoughts, and this surprised me greatly. “Why wouldn’t I be kind to him? He did give me this gauntlet and has been quite the undead host” I said laughing, and was replied with a smile. I noticed a hand, definitely not man, mer or beast, on my shoulder. Terrified I turned and said “Anxkharghe, how pleasant to see you! What have you found during your studying? Anything of that woman in our dreams or is she still a whisper of a mystery?” Anxkhargh stood still for a second, as he had to recall all of the things he saw in his vast mind vision. “I searched for the person we saw and not only did I hear a name told and see a picture, I learned a history. I had Mehhmloth scribe the vision, so maybe you should talk to him rather than me and my old bones” terrified, I laughed heartily at the joke. The wooden door at the most far south of the cave opened, and Mehhmloth emerged from the doorway.

Mehhmloth was a breathtaking specimen, a re-living white mage of a previously forgotten history, wearing ancient white armor covered in runic writing. He was holding Mehhm, his claymore separated with a small gap between either side of the blade. He was a Golem, but not the kind you hear of in tales and horror novels. His original body was killed in a fight with none other than Anxkharghe, by a poison dart to the leg. He has been given a new leg and through various magickal ceremonies and tasks for various Daedric Princes, life with a fully working and nearly perfect human attributes. “Telina Delvanni is her name. A Dunmer of about average height, with silver hair just past her shoulders and a very beautiful thin body. She often is seen in mostly Indoril armor and is constantly heavily armed. It would seem she was Dark Brotherhood and now has high rankings in the Telvanni, Blades and the Temple. If we’re ever going to find her we should start quickly and look intelligently, as she is very, very difficult to track” Mehhmloth looked at me, dead in the face. “Are you certain this figure in darkness is worth traveling to Morrowind for?”

The dream ended there, and I woke up suddenly. Shocked by how descriptively terrifying that dream was, I got dressed as fast as I could, eager to go to start my search for the “guild”. I packed what I imagined would be necessary to fight such potions and my leather gloves, and set off out the door.

O_o....this is getting exiting...hehe, Telina is in another fan fic...thats nice.

I like the description of her...and I also find the dream exiting as well. This whole story is quite thrilling, and you're a wonderful writer...please give us some more...I'm dying to find out whats happening next.

Ah, another crossover. Nice. But, these guys really need to think twice before they pick Telina as their target. She's one mean little killing machine with lots of telepathic fun. Mess with Telina and you are going to be embarassed horribly before dying.

Ok, new update and I made a quick fix to the old one so if you want to read the corrected version, just read the vary last paragraph.



My first well of answers was a familiar face, one of the Nords that took me to the pub when I first visited this town. “You know where I could find the fist-fighters guild?” he spoke in his heavy accent after looking strangely at me. “Ordras! Its you! I eard’ they migh’ name you starrr hero, is tha’ true?” I shook my head and he grabbed me in what I presumed was a hug, but turned into some strange Nordic “pick up and swing around” fight move. “Oh! Enough of my gushin’ and questions and on ta’ yours! Yes I do know where to fin’ the arena, but’cha best stop callin’ it a guil’ or some un’ il’ think your mad! Guils’ are fur ancient Dunmer an’ stuck up igh’ Elves, not warriors like me un’ you. Follow me frein’, I’m going to there righ’ now!” he had the heaviest Nordic accent ever, but it was quite frankly fascinating. How could any civilized group of people stand others who talk like this? Other Nords had accents, but this is one of the not so few that seemed to dislike the common tongue.

I followed him for about a minute until we came to a large, stone building with many stones engraved with pictures of warriors and animals. “I got me business doins’ out here, so you just walk on in, go dow’ the stairs to the right an’ talk to the biggess’, meaness’ Nord in there ya’ see” He walked out behind the house and I wasted no time walking right up to the door. I opened the dense wooden door and bravely walked into where no sensible Dunmer ever should. The top floor was filled with weapons and armours in large glass cases and some on mannequins. I followed my Nord travesty of the common language’s advice and walked down the stairs. Ok, I lied. I fell down the hard wooden stairs face first and crashed into a barrel. Filled with pain and surrounded by strangers, I silently cursed in my head, knowing embarrassment was soon to come as I picked myself off of the soft dirt floor.

“What an entrance! He just threw himself down the stairs, put a nice dent in a sturdy wooden barrel and simply go up! He’s not screamin’ or anything! This guy’s tough as nails!” the other people in the room started cheering for me and talking about what they thought was a show of strength. “Is he sane? You think he’s got a follow up to that? I’ve never seen a Dark Elf take any damage like that and get up. Is that Star Hero?” they talked and, in some cases, yelled things along those lines. “I’m happy you all realized that was no accident and yes, I’m fine” three times now I lied. I was in a great amount of pain and the height difference between each stair caused my fall, not my brain.

Oooooo......impressive, fellow mod! Really good, how could I miss this one? (jeezers, to many writers who posts like ravishing maniacs!..)

Aww, thanks Minkie!

Whoo whoo! Here comes the update train!

After getting acquainted with some of the fighters and spectators, I met Sjordsjer. He was gigantic, about 7’5 foot tall, covered in blue tattoos and wearing a long brown robe. “Hello Star Hero, welcome to the arena” his voice boomed and carried throughout the building, and people couldn’t help but listen to his words. “If you wish to train before you fight, there is training equipment all over here. If you wish to start by learning the ropes betting on a fight or two, go upstairs and walk to the room to the left of the front door and go through the door in that room. Good luck in anything you decide to do” I nodded my pretty little head in agreement and decided to learn how to fight here indirectly. I walked up the stairs and through the left room into the betting room.

“What can I do ya’ for and how much you want me to put you in for?” this man was bold and direct I thought, so I looked at the betters sign behind him. The gold allowed to be put down was 5, 10, 15, 20, 25 and anything you would like to bet from then on. I reached into my sack and pulled out a good fifty gold to show a false sense of assurance. “The Redguard Larem Orcbane is fighting Sjeven the Statue. Who you bettin’ on?” and now the dilemmas. If I put my money on a big loser, they might lose respect in me, but if I could only vote for an underdog who wins, I could look smatter in this arena than I am. I took on of the ten piece septems from the pile and flipped it, calling a name in my head just before it landed. Akatosh sign, that was Sjeven. “Fifty on Sjeven the Statue” I hope that leaving fifty gold on blind luck would work in my favour.

I walked down stairs and noticed the fight was very close to its start. Sjordsjer yelled out as the most appropriate announcer. “Larem “Orcbane” Stuars has been challenged by Sjeven the Statue! Let the game start when this red cloth enters the centre of the arena” Sjordsjer threw the cloth, about the size of a unfolded kerchief, which span and danced toward the very centre of the circle. I walked to the large, painted white circle the spectators where standing around. When it came to the centre, both the Nord and Redguard ran towards each other.

Very good very good Red! Good updates indeed, I'm very keen on the fight now - Update plz

Because of the fact you said one of my favourite words ever (keen), I will update. +3|-| |#16#+!

Larem jumped into the air and attempted a devastating drop kick. Sjeven ducked and rolled, sending Larem right over him, though he land on his feet. Sjeven walked towards the centre of the ring while Larem trotted in a circle around him. He was obviously trying to use his speed against the Nord, as Sjeven was at least a good foot taller and wider than him. They were both wearing no shoes or shirt, but a loose pair of baggy pants, and both were covered in muscle. Larem circled closer and closer to Sjeven until he was in range of the Nord’s punches. Sjeven swung a mighty right fist, but Larem was prepared and jumped backwards and then back at the Nord. An elbow to the face sent him back a few steps. Larem landed and ran towards Sjeven who was now backing up, trying to find an opening. He nearly fell backwards twice and decided to stop cowering. He jumped forward and tackled Larem, who ran right into the attack. Sjeven gave a few quick punches to the Redguard before Larem threw him off. They both closed into each other and started swinging and blocking, both being hit hard multiple times. Larem ducked low when Sjeven threw what could have been a devastating haymaker, and picked the towering Nord up from the ground. Sjeven kicked and punched at Larem before being thrown to the ground. Sjeven stood up from the ground, just in time to dodge a running punch by Larem, who ran all most out of the circle. The Nord ran towards the Redguard and gave him a strong kick, sending him out of the white ring. Everyone cheered, so I decided to join before walking up the stairs to claim my prize.

Nice detailed fight there Red, very well written indeed I really thought Larem was going to win there. Good work! More please...

I really have to admit with my fellow Norwegian there....it was a very well written fight scene, that was a nerve wrecking experiance to the last...great update as always...so now I command you to update again...oh...DOH, I cant do that, I dont have the power...

But please for the sake of the rest of us, update soon.