coooooooooool

After a decent night’s sleep tucked up safely in my locked room deep underground, I set out to explore the rest of this manse and to see if I could discover the whereabouts of the War Chiefs. Exploration of Teran manor didn’t take long, there were a few crates tucked up some corners but I found very little of any interest. Thereafter, it was back into the maze of tunnels that surround this area.

After several brief and violent encounters with wandering bands of Goblins, I came to a small wooden door set into the side of one of the tunnels. Crudely written on the door, in western script, was the legend ‘Tears of Amun-Shae’. Not a name to inspire much confidence. As I studied the door, it suddenly swung open and I found myself face to chest with the biggest damn’ Goblin I’ve ever seen. With a yelp, I leapt back as a huge mace crashed down on the spot I’d been standing.

As the grunting brute advanced, I scrambled to my feet and hefted the Wish. The crescent-shaped blade hummed as it cut through air and Goblin flesh with equal ease. Thick reddish coloured blood oozed from the deep cut and, to my consternation, the Goblin War Chief threw back its head and uttered what sounded like a laugh. “Huuu-man,” it grumbled deep in its throat, “kuh-ill huuu-man.”

“I can see why they made you War Chief,” I jested with a certain morbid humour. The creature cocked its head, apparently listening to what I said. Then, baring an impressive array of fangs, it dragged itself upright and lashed out with the mace. The impact felt like I imagine being struck by lightning feels like ~ the force of it threw me several feet backwards and, at no point in that short journey, did my feet touch the ground. Had I been wearing lesser armour, the blow would have cracked me like an egg: perhaps the only time I would ever be grateful that Therana was insane.

One thing was certain though, another couple of blows like that and it wouldn’t matter what armour I was wearing. Rolling away from another crushing blow, I scrambled to my feet and squared up to my foe. As the creature brought the mace back up, I hacked downwards with the axe, blocking the blow. “All right handsome,” I said, “let’s dance.”

Squaring off against the brute, I started moving the axe in a slow circular pattern ~ weaving a web of pain for the creature if it got too close. Slowly increasing the speed, I advanced on the Goblin, forcing it backwards towards the door. Muscles bunched, and I read its intention even before the heavy mace started to move.

Spinning to the side, I let the whirling blade of the Wish slice outwards as the mace raised dust from the spot I’d been in moments before. The War Chief grunted in pain as the ornately carved crescent tore through skin, flesh and muscle, and then howled as the axe’s enchantment bit home. I pressed my advantage, whirling around the confused beast like a top ~ the now singing blade of the axe slashing out again and again. More cuts, gaping tears, appeared in the tough hide of the creature: each wreathed in hungry licks of flame. I lost count of the number of blows I landed: thirty, forty, maybe more. Finally, when I stopped moving, panting from exhaustion, there seemed to be no part of the brutish creature not leaking blood.

I hadn’t counted on the Goblin War Chief being this tough ~ despite the multitude of wounds it was still moving towards me in an attack posture. Furious, I started whirling the axe and, with a shout of “Why won’t you just die?” I hurled the Wish at the Goblin, hard. There was a noise similar to the sound you get when you bury an axe-head in the bole of a thick tree and the Goblin reached up in confusion to feel the blade that now protruded from its brow. “Oh you have got to be kidding me!” I exclaimed as, raising the mace, the War Chief took a step towards me.

As I scrabbled to draw the Ebony blade from its scabbard, the Goblin took another step, raising its mace high overhead. At the top of the arc, the mace simply kept going ~ tipping the now dead War Chief onto its back. With a gasp, I sank to my knees and drew in as much oxygen as I could. Over the last two days I’d fought numerous Goblins but nothing had prepared me for the sheer tenacity of the War Chief. When I could breath properly again, I carefully examined the massive corpse. Aside from the mace (which I could barely lift) and the leather harness that preserved whatever passed for modesty amongst these beasts, the only thing I found was a large plain key.

They key fitted perfectly into the lock of the chest I found a little way inside Amun-Shae. Inside I found six 100-Septim coins and a buckler. The shield was heavily enchanted, constructed out of some pinkish bone-like material. Since I had, to date, done most of my fighting with a long-handled axe or a double-handed sword I had no use for a shield but I took the buckler anyway ~ I might be able to get a couple of Septims for it from a collector.

With the money in my purse and the buckler strapped to the back of my pack, I advanced cautiously down the tunnels of Amun-Shae, keeping to the shadows as much as I could. As I approached the end of the tunnels, I could see the bulk of the second War Chief moving about in the chamber ahead of me. Not wishing to fight another such brute (my ribs still ached from the blow the first one had given me), I resorted to magic. Without some source to provide the fumes, the poison-cloud spell was incredibly difficult to cast: necessitating a second attempt before I felt the cantrip engage. Maintaining it proved equally as hard and, by the time I heard the thump of the War Chief’s body on the floor, I was literally on my knees, sweating profusely.

After giving the fumes some time to disperse and myself a little longer to recover, I ventured into the chamber. The huge bulk of the War Chief lay in one corner and, nearby, lay the corpses of two foot soldiers and a hulking brute that I hadn’t even known were there. The corpses of the War Chief and the foot soldiers provided nothing except a few restore health potions but the ‘lieutenant’ carried a rare prize indeed. Reverently wrapping the Black Ioun Stone in some cloth, I slipped it into my pack before completing my examination of the chamber.

I had accomplished what I’d come down here for: both of the trainers and the two War Chiefs were dead, but there were still areas to explore down here and I wished to make sure that the Horde was scattered or damaged badly enough to ensure it would no longer pose a threat. Besides, the door just ahead of me was to something called ‘The Armoury’ and I was intrigued enough to want to see what weapons I might be able to recover.

Rings and gold coins I found aplenty, as well as a large number of Goblins. Fortunately, these were mostly the smaller foot soldiers and I was able to cut a bloody swathe through their ranks with relative ease. In a small cavern just beyond the armoury ruins I found two massive outcroppings of rock ~ completely different in both colour and texture to the surrounding stone. Metal crystals poked from the surface of both and, working carefully with the pick-axe, I was able to extract two chunks of raw Adamantium from the protrusions. Although these were massively heavy for their size, I was able to fit both into my pack and shoulder it ~ although the straps cut into my shoulders abominably for the rest of the day.

The armoury ruins came to an end, and I found myself back in the tunnels that burrowed throughout this area. As I stepped into them, I saw a red chalked arrow pointing roughly east and knew that I’d been passed this particular turning before. Turning west, I headed back towards the sewers. Several hours later, I came to the sewer entrance and stumbled from the tunnels gratefully. Now, all I had to do was follow the chalked arrows back to…

“Whoa!” I yelled as a thunderous bolt of lightning hurled out of the darkness and exploded right beside me. As the spell discharged itself into the running water, I ducked behind a thick pillar for cover as a second thunderous bolt flew out of the gloom and blew a chunk out of the wall opposite. Peering cautiously around my cover, I spotted the large Goblin-shaped figure further down the sewer. One of the ‘Minder’-types I thought, but who in the name of Azura had taught the brute to use magic?

I puzzled over this seeming contradiction ~ Goblins were canny but not intelligent: certainly not smart enough to learn a spell of this magnitude although the Shamans were to be feared with their innate magical abilities. I’d not encountered a Shaman down in the tunnels and had no idea what they might look like although, by all accounts, they were smaller creatures than the one currently hurling lightning from the darkness. I’d not been idle while I’d been thinking, the crossbows had been loaded with two of my precious bolts ~ I needed to obtain more fairly soon as I was down to just five after I’d fired these two.

The bolts whipped off into the darkness as I made a snap-shot with both of the small crossbows. The answering fusillade of lightning-bolts told me I’d been wide of the mark. As I struggled to reload, the crashing blows of the spell against the pillar I was using as cover suddenly stopped and I heard an interrogative grunt echo down the tunnel. Dropping the bows, I withdrew the sword and ran towards the hulking figure. The Goblin was still peering at its right hand and shaking it when the blade lopped off its head.

The ring it wore was mute but there was still a faint echo when I touched it ~ showing that it was innately magical but drained of charge. This explained how the Goblin had been able to cast such a powerful spell ~ it was the ring's enchantment it had discovered how to use. My heart pounded as I hacked off the finger and took the simple golden band. Why was I so excited? The ring had eight tiny indentations in its metal and I knew, from books I’d read, that only a few very special rings were missing their stones. If I was correct, then this was the ancient artefact-ring known as ‘Spark’.

Burdened down by my pack, I slogged through the running water of the sewers, too exhausted to climb onto the small ledge that ran along the outside edges of the water-channel. It was a blessed relief when I came to the familiar metal ladder leading up to an overhead trapdoor. “Oy!” I yelled, hammering on the thick wood with the butt of my dagger, “people trying to get out of the sewers here!”

There was a shuffling of feet overhead and then the trapdoor was lifted from above, allowing in a flood of clean, sweet air and warm, golden light. Scrambling up the last few rungs, I collapsed onto the stone and breathed deeply of the first fresh air I’d tasted in days. “You can’t loiter there scum,” the High Ordinator who’d lifted the trapdoor groused. With a heavy sigh I rose to my feet and made my way through the streets of Godsreach back to Velas Manor. Shortly thereafter, I was luxuriating in a deep tub of magically heated water. Fedris Hler can wait, I thought as I sipped my Sujamma.

cool story Override. Any chance you could take a look at the one i posted and tell me what you think? i told Romana i'd get her some feedback

oh-oh, in for a round of massive MW playing tonight it seems.....just have to explore these wretched sewers..........I´m really thrilled by this, even though I know I´d encounter problems with those giant goblins...brrrrrr

As always I´m totally caught up with this story....

Wow, nice description of a golden Saint. Very....mad.

A cheerful-looking Ederen Albrege was waiting outside Velas Manor this morning as I set out to speak to Fedris Hler. He urged me to return to the Craftsman’s Hall with him as he had now completed my commission. I followed along willingly. “There,” he said, pointing to a tall wooden object, “isn’t she a beauty?”

‘She’ was indeed: the long-case clock was magnificent. The rich dark wood of the casing was polished to a lustrous shine while the pendulum was etched with the device of Great House Telvanni. The face was white; possibly porcelain, and the numerals were picked out in delicately inlaid Ebony. Even the fingers were a work of art ~ depicting, as they did, tiny representations of the sword Umbra. Ederen Albrege smiled and said, “Ordinarily, such a clock would sell for six thousand Septims. But, because of the favours I owe you, I am willing to let it go for just forty-five hundred Septims. And that, let me assure you, represents only a tiny profit margin.”

I couldn’t argue with that price ~ well, I could have done but that would have been… impolite. Having paid him, I asked Albrege if he would arrange to have the timepiece delivered to the Velas Manor later that evening. That done, I made my way through to the Temple complex via the Plaza Brindisi Dorum.

“Ahh, Ser Vahl,” Hler said, beaming happily. “We are informed that the threat to the city has been eliminated thanks to you. The Goddess is very pleased, and has instructed me to give you this…” here he handed me a bulging leather purse, “…by way of a reward. I think you’ll find it most generous.”

As I thanked him and turned to leave, he added, “I am given to understand that the High Priest, Gavas Drin, wishes to speak with you.”

“I have a few other errands to run first, Ser Hler,” I replied. “As soon as I have completed those, I shall return and speak to the High Priest.” At that point, I meant every word. Of course, I wished to speak to Tienius Delitian ~ I believed that the broadsheet I’d found in the Godsreach sewers is where the rumours concerning King Helseth are coming from. Leaving the Temple, I took the opportunity to check the contents of the heavy purse. Inside were 150 of the massive 100-Septim pieces. I blinked; here was wealth on a scale that I’d never dreamt of.

Smiling happily, I descended the steps and, ignoring the strutting popinjay in Ebony armour that was parading up and down in the Temple grounds, I headed towards the Royal Palace.

“Look who it is,” a sneering voice said behind me as a hand grasped my forearm.

“Unhand me sirrah,” I snapped, spinning to address the short individual that had accosted me, “or, by Sotha Sil’s beard you’ll regret it.”

Letting go of my arm, the armoured figure raised the visor on the Ebony helm and I found myself staring down into the grinning face of the grifter Gaenor. “Didn’t recognise me, did you? Told you I was lucky. Now, let’s have at it, right here and right now…” And, with that, he drew a ridiculously oversized Ebony blade from his scabbard.

“What are you babbling about?” I asked, taking a step back. “Have you totally lost your mind?”

“Oh no, Vahl,” he sneered, “I told you you’d regret not giving me money…” With that, he swung the sword at me, clearly intending to disembowel me where I stood.

“Bloody Oblivion,” I yelped, taking a rapid flurry of backward steps to avoid the blow. “Do you have any idea of who you’re dealing with? Let me give you an illustration,” I said. Drawing myself upright, I extended a hand and concentrated on the ring I’d slipped around my finger. Now fully recharged, Spark lived up to its name ~ unleashing a barrage of thunderous bolts.

“Whoo-hoo-hoo,” the Bosmeri chortled as I found myself the centre of a howling storm of discharging magic. The force of my own spell hammered me repeatedly; and I finally ended up some twenty paces from where I’d been. Laying there on the floor where the force of the spell had thrown me, I squinted up at the slowly advancing Bosmer. Angrily, I concentrated and yelled, “Exuro meus Hostilis.”

“Ha-ha-ha-ha,” Gaenor howled with laughter as the fireball made a totally improbable 180-degree turn and hurled back towards me. With a curse I rolled away from the impact point, scrambling to avoid the hungrily licking flames that splashed across the granite path. “Told you I was one lucky son of a Guar, didn’t I?” he spluttered.

“That’s more than lucky,” I murmured, squinting at the Wood Elf. By concentrating, I could discern a faint magical aura shimmering around him. He wore some sort of charm, or an amulet, that was having an effect on him. What was it he’d said? ‘Lucky’ ~ that was it; somehow the little sneak had managed to get hold of something that massively enhanced his luck. Enhanced it to the point where even spells would not obey the caster. I groaned because that rendered virtually every spell I knew totally useless.

What I was not expecting was the powerful effect of the field to also affect my ability to hit the little sod with my axe. Twice I swung the Wish in deadly blows only to have my grip on the handle slip (in the first instance) or to have somehow misjudged the distance (in the second instance). Gaenor made no attempt to defend himself nor, judging by my continued feeble attempts to land a blow, did he have to. “Obscurum successio,” I shouted, barely dodging a lazy swing that ~ had I been but a fraction of a second slower ~ would have been a major inconvenience.

The thick greenish mist of the spell rose between us and I turned and ran, swinging my pack off my shoulder and grabbing inside for the pouch wherein I kept my rings and things. I’d been smart enough not to cast the spell directly at Gaenor; instead I’d cast it at the ground directly in front of him. Dropping the pack, I put as much distance between the Wood Elf and me as possible.

“COWARD!” he roared, bursting out of the misty residue of the spell and waving his sword fiercely. “There’s no escape Dunmer,” he taunted.

Escape was the last thing on my mind. Accelerating, I put the bulk of the Temple between the Bosmer and me so that I could search the contents of the pouch for the ring I wanted. Slipping it on my finger, I concentrated ~ feeling the strange sensation that accompanies entering the shadow-world of a chameleon spell. My plan was simple: wrapped in the cloak of a Shadow-Weave spell, I would sneak back to my pack and get the crossbows. Then, levitating into a nearby tree I would load them up and then, still cloaked, sneak up behind Gaenor and let him have both bolts in the back of the neck at extremely close range. “Let’s see you dodge that,” I muttered with some satisfaction.

whatr a cruel way to do in Gaenor. Funny as hell though

make sure he gets some hits in on you though... His luck in the game was really good. You could turn this into a really good fight.

:goodjob:

[quote=jonajosa]make sure he gets some hits in on you though... His luck in the game was really good. You could turn this into a really good fight.

:goodjob:[/quote]

Oh...I am sure there will be an incredible fight.......knowing Override...

[quote=OverrideB1]“Bloody Oblivion,” I yelped[/quote]

Would ya take a look at that. An English Dunmer!

[quote=OverrideB1]
“Ha-ha-ha-ha,” Gaenor howled with laughter as the fireball made a totally improbable 180-degree turn and hurled back towards me. With a curse I rolled away from the impact point, scrambling to avoid the hungrily licking flames that splashed across the granite path. “Told you I was one lucky son of a Guar, didn’t I?” he spluttered.
[/quote]

Ooh, get him Sudhendra. Though I have to admit I did laugh, not I hasten to add at her misfortune, but at the image my mind created of a fireball doing a U turn. This story always has a nice combination of action and humour, and this looks like it could be an epic battle, so I'm looking forward to how it pans out. :lickinglips2:

I had actually made it back to my pack, unnoticed by the raving Wood Elf, and unhooked both of the small crossbows before the words of Asciene Rane came back to me ~ “…Almalexia doesn’t allow levitation inside the citadel’s limits…” That meant I’d have to load them down on the ground, and that increased the chances that the Wood Elf would…

“I SEE YOU!” Gaenor roared with delight, setting off at a run from his spot by the Temple ~ heading straight for me. Damn’, so intent had I been on reaching my pack and… Wait, the cloaking spell was still in place, making me blend perfectly into the background. And, since I was in contact with both the crossbows and my pack, the effect extended to them as well. Calling down a curse on the usual Vahl luck and adding a few choice comments about dammed lucky Bosmeri too, I dropped the bows and ran.

I was running out of options. I’d managed to elude Gaenor by stepping into the shadow of the Temple and running along its wall until I was out of his line of sight. Given his cursed luck enhancement, it was only a matter of time before he acquired me as a target again. Every offensive spell I knew was useless ~ any I fired off at him would just be reflected back. Likewise, a weapon is of no use if you can’t hit your opponent with it.

I did, however, have a plan ~ not a good one admittedly, but a plan nonetheless. Flexing my fingers, I crept up behind the High Ordinator and concentrated on the glove that Aryon had given me. The guard stiffened and I felt my mind settle over his, establishing control. It was hard, very hard ~ right at the limits of what I was capable of. As Gaenor raced around the edge of the Temple ~ gleefully announcing that he could see me ~ I turned the High Ordinator to face him.

Gaenor wasn’t expecting the heavy ebony scimitar that crashed against the breastplate of his armour, the blow knocking him off balance. Instinctively, he lashed out with his own sword and caught the High Ordinator a stinging blow. The shock of it was enough to dislodge me from my precarious grip on the Mer’s mind but that didn’t matter at this point.

“You dare attack me!” the High Ordinator screamed in fury. Glowing filaments of fire appeared between the guard’s fingers and he grabbed Gaenor, allowing the spell to discharge. Both screamed in agony, Gaenor catching at least some of the spell while the majority of it washed back to its source. Disengaging, the guard fell on Gaenor in a frenzy, pounding down blow after blow on the Wood Elf. Of course, most of them missed completely but, such was the Ordinator’s rage, those that got through were enough to stagger the Bosmer.

Nor was I being particularly idle: I was busy renewing the Shadow-Weave spell from the ring in preparation for the second phase of my cunning plan. As the High Ordinator and Gaenor traded hammer-blows, I had the Adamantium dagger in hand and was sneaking up behind the Wood Elf. The outcome of the fight was pretty much as I expected it would be ~ with the enhanced luck he was having each of Gaenor’s blows landed perfectly while the poor guard struggled to make a blow in ten connect. “Ah-ha!” the Bosmer shouted triumphantly, “I am invincible!”

This proud boast was followed by a sound that can best be written as ‘Urk!” This was simply because I’d driven the blade into the back of his neck ~ right at the junction of his armour and his helm. “Dodge that,” I suggested to the writhing Wood Elf. When he’d stopped threshing, I helped myself to the now battered ebony armour, his sword, and the plain copper amulet from around his neck. Hey, a girl needs all the luck she can get. The armour weighed a ton, but I managed to stagger back to Velas Manor and dump it just inside the door. I could deal with it later.

“This is something you should read,” I suggested to Tienius Delitian, handing him a copy of ‘The Common Tongue’. He took it from me and started to read down the broadsheet ~ his face first turning an interesting shade of red, then going quite pale. With a hiss, he thrust the paper back at me.

“Most interesting,” he finally managed to grind out. “I’m sure His Majesty will be most interested in this ‘Common Tongue’. I shall not hesitate to mention your loyal service to His Majesty in this matter. There is another matter His Majesty wishes you to investigate…

“As you may have noticed, there is a little friction between State and Church.” He returned my wry smile. “Fortunately, His Majesty has heard that there is discontentment within the Temple. He would like you to find one of these malcontents and endeavour to find out what the Temple’s feelings are towards King Helseth ~ whether they will support him or if they are planning to act against him. Needless to say, you are expected to be the very soul of discretion when pursuing this matter.”

I planned to be discrete all right, so discrete that I didn’t plan on asking the question at all. Delitian wasn’t jesting when he’d intimated that there was a power-struggle going on in Mournhold. It was fairly obvious that Church and State were manoeuvring for power. And I wasn’t so certain that I wished to get involved. Helseth was involved in the Goblin Horde beneath Mournhold; he was almost certainly the person who had a Dark Brotherhood Writ issued against me; and there was no doubt in my mind that he was a mass poisoner. Which, I reflected, would make me extremely careful about anything I ate while I was here.

The Temple, on the other hand, had treated me with a degree of fairness, although I was frequently made to feel like a provincial bumpkin by the way they spoke to me. I had, however, been extremely well rewarded for dealing with Helseth’s Goblins. While defying a king may be foolish, defying a living God? That’s tantamount to committing suicide. I had nothing that could keep me here, really, and a sudden departure to Vvardenfell might be in order.

While I had been musing, I had wandered into the Great Bazaar, where a young Redguard accosted me. “You look like a traveller ma’am,” he said earnestly. “I’m sure that you often have more things to carry that you can cope with. I have here the marvels of the Third Era: trained Rats and Scribs.

“Any of them will carry a load for you. They are trained to take care of their packs and follow you wherever you go. In addition, they make an excellent meal…” I looked at the rat with the pack on its back. By my estimation it could probably carry a couple of rings and a coin or two. With a grin, I declined the fellow’s offer and continued to wander through the Bazaar towards Godsreach.

After packing up various items I thought I would need back on Vvardenfell, I made my way back to the reception area of the Royal palace and had Effie-Tai send me back to Ebonheart. From there I returned to Tel Vahl.

[size=18]Here Ends the Fifth Part of Sudhendra's Tale

Interesting way to do Gaenor in......

[quote=LoneWolf]Interesting way to do Gaenor in......[/quote]

I figured that was better than the truth ~ tedious standing toe-to-toe and slugging it out, with me guzzling healing potions by the gallon

lol. When i fought him i didn't use any. I just smacked him across teh face repeatedly with my Daedric Katana. I only missed about twice, not including blocks.

Ok so I hereby admit it....I commanded 3 high ordinators to follow me and when he attacked me I simply get them to do the killing for me... :embarrassed: