Also just done 4 sides of A4 notes on his first few encounters in the ayleid ruins across the from the starting sewers...still haven't found what's at the end.
Watch this space.
Full Version: The life of Nethemi Ocatu [WIP:P]
After a long time away from writing I'm ready to tell of Nethemi's life, starting with his birth, childhood and relative history, all the way to the reason and reasoning behind why he enered the Imperial prison.
Also just done 4 sides of A4 notes on his first few encounters in the ayleid ruins across the from the starting sewers...still haven't found what's at the end.
Watch this space.
Also just done 4 sides of A4 notes on his first few encounters in the ayleid ruins across the from the starting sewers...still haven't found what's at the end.
Watch this space.
The life of Nethemi Ocatu I
As my last breath blows a cold chill across my face, as the void prepares to swallow me, as my fingers relinquish their grasp of my staff – It is my chance to reminisce. As my fate finally ties up the threads it has haphazardly woven through my life, these threads now run in front of me. I cannot fail to regret things I have done, yet I shall never forget the hope I have brought to the hearts of many. This moment…my last moment...shall be the one I treasure.
As my last breath blows a cold chill across my face, as the void prepares to swallow me, as my fingers relinquish their grasp of my staff – It is my chance to reminisce. As my fate finally ties up the threads it has haphazardly woven through my life, these threads now run in front of me. I cannot fail to regret things I have done, yet I shall never forget the hope I have brought to the hearts of many. This moment…my last moment...shall be the one I treasure.
I can but smile at the irony of it. From a birth regrettable, made only so by the twisted and selfish hearts of man, I have risen from the ashes of depravity to sit amongst the Gods as an equal. But neither my name nor my dreams shall live on. I have sired but one, but I could not save him. He was but a single strand of my intertwining threads that have been cut short by the malicious blade of destiny. I shall live on only in the hearts of my fellow man and in legends told by ailing fathers by the fireside. My accomplishments may be remembered… but my emotions shall be scattered.
My father was High Chancellor Ocatu, leader of the Elder Council and Steward of the Empire. In the unlikely chance you don’t know he is an Altmer – a High Elf. My mother on the other hand was a member of a race unknown to the upper world… a Nethemer.
It is hard to describe a Nethemer, as they are different to any race in Tamriel. They are small, slightly smaller than a Bosmer, and have pure white skin. Their eyes are the deepest of black, almost appearing as though they are sucking in the light around them. They use these eyes to see in the dark of the tunnels they inhabit, deep below Tamriel. They are not heard of because they very rarely come to the surface. My mother was the exception.
She had come to the surface world in hopes of opportunity and success, although it may come with toil and struggle. Her eyes had soon adapted, but her skin stayed the same pale shade. It was because of this that she was never accepted in society, could find no work suitable for an educated young woman. So it was that she took residence in a club on the Waterfront, before it was closed down and turned into a house by Captain Lex. I shall not say what she worked as, but I shall say this is where Ocatu went where he knew he would not be judged.
It was where they met, and spent the night together. He was gone the next morning to tend to the Emperor and she avoided him from then on, until she made a discovery. She was pregnant with me, a responsibility she was not prepared to take herself. She visited the Imperial tower, requesting a meeting with Ocatu calling herself a messenger from Skingrad. When inside she met with Ocatu and told him of me. In fear-stricken panic he banished my mother from his life, telling her never to be near him again.
She fled the castle, and could no longer work with me now apparent in her life. She was now worse than a beggar, as no-one would go near her because of how she looked. It was in the alleyway between two of the shacks on the Waterfront that I was born, barely surviving as I lay in the dirt by my mother. She cared for me with all her life, devoting herself to me. She knew there as nothing left for her, and hoped of better things for me. When I reached my eighth year my mother passed into the arms of my ancestors, stabbed to death by a drunkard in one of the back alleys of the Market District.
I had naturally inherited traits from both my parents, catering to both extremes of the grand spectrum of fortune. I am tall, like my Blackguard of a father, but I have inherited the pale skin of my mother and the same silver hair. My skin has a slightly cyan tint to it, and hair matches my skin, making me even more dislike me peers. But for all my good luck with the complications of the genetic jigsaw between these two races, there is one flaw. With my father’s natural sight, and my mother’s eyes developed for the Undernethe, my eyes have their own twist. I was born fully blind, unable to see anything except my imagination…and my nightmares.
My father was High Chancellor Ocatu, leader of the Elder Council and Steward of the Empire. In the unlikely chance you don’t know he is an Altmer – a High Elf. My mother on the other hand was a member of a race unknown to the upper world… a Nethemer.
It is hard to describe a Nethemer, as they are different to any race in Tamriel. They are small, slightly smaller than a Bosmer, and have pure white skin. Their eyes are the deepest of black, almost appearing as though they are sucking in the light around them. They use these eyes to see in the dark of the tunnels they inhabit, deep below Tamriel. They are not heard of because they very rarely come to the surface. My mother was the exception.
She had come to the surface world in hopes of opportunity and success, although it may come with toil and struggle. Her eyes had soon adapted, but her skin stayed the same pale shade. It was because of this that she was never accepted in society, could find no work suitable for an educated young woman. So it was that she took residence in a club on the Waterfront, before it was closed down and turned into a house by Captain Lex. I shall not say what she worked as, but I shall say this is where Ocatu went where he knew he would not be judged.
It was where they met, and spent the night together. He was gone the next morning to tend to the Emperor and she avoided him from then on, until she made a discovery. She was pregnant with me, a responsibility she was not prepared to take herself. She visited the Imperial tower, requesting a meeting with Ocatu calling herself a messenger from Skingrad. When inside she met with Ocatu and told him of me. In fear-stricken panic he banished my mother from his life, telling her never to be near him again.
She fled the castle, and could no longer work with me now apparent in her life. She was now worse than a beggar, as no-one would go near her because of how she looked. It was in the alleyway between two of the shacks on the Waterfront that I was born, barely surviving as I lay in the dirt by my mother. She cared for me with all her life, devoting herself to me. She knew there as nothing left for her, and hoped of better things for me. When I reached my eighth year my mother passed into the arms of my ancestors, stabbed to death by a drunkard in one of the back alleys of the Market District.
I had naturally inherited traits from both my parents, catering to both extremes of the grand spectrum of fortune. I am tall, like my Blackguard of a father, but I have inherited the pale skin of my mother and the same silver hair. My skin has a slightly cyan tint to it, and hair matches my skin, making me even more dislike me peers. But for all my good luck with the complications of the genetic jigsaw between these two races, there is one flaw. With my father’s natural sight, and my mother’s eyes developed for the Undernethe, my eyes have their own twist. I was born fully blind, unable to see anything except my imagination…and my nightmares.
This is great writing. I really like the new race- you have thought it out quite carefully. Excellent illustrations, too.
Sorry for this boring bit but I feel it is needed before the story really begins.
For three years I covered my face and begged for coins before getting Armand Christophe, a member of the Thieves Guild who I met soon after my mother died, to buy my food for me. I stayed in the Waterfront District, never building up enough courage to venture into the other sections of Imperial City. It was in my eleventh year that my life took a turn for the better, on the Religious holiday of Mara. The Mage’s Guild had decided to take a visit to the Waterfront, to see what it was like to live rough. I had crawled out into the street when I had heard the droning beat of the forty or so padded feet marching along the shabbily cobbled road into the district.
I had reached out with one of my hands to touch them and see who they were. I felt cloaks of a handful of a collection of different textures, a feeling that aroused my senses as I grasped them tighter. It was then that I was lifted into the air by a strong pair of arms, that held me in a vice grip. They had said something to me, but I could not understand them. I did not know, nor could speak any language from the upper world and could only speak in Nethemer. I spoke back to him in my language, asking him what he said. All around me had gasped when I spoke in my peoples’ rich language. The mage holding me was now interested in me, so kept hold of me as he took me to his room in the Guild halls.
The man that took me back with him was an Apprentice at the Arcane University by the name of Cain Relabius. He was an Imperial who struggled in most areas of magic but excelled in restoration. He simply called me specimen, but treated me like a son. It was through him that I developed my eyesight. Because of him I could see a greyed version of the world, a world without colour. I shall be forever indebted to the man, for surely without him the world of Tamriel would be in ruins.
It was also at the University that I learnt to speak in common tongue. I travelled every morning before dawn to the Mystic Archives and learnt from the Apprentices there. It took a year and a half but I learnt to read write and speak common tongue. Because of my new found knowledge I now learnt some spells from the Scholars there, hiding in the bushes while they held their lessons. I found conjuration to be the most interesting of all the different areas of magic, although I stayed well away from the darker side of conjuration.
My life was not rosy in the Arcane University of course. No authority figures knew of my existence in their, neither the guards nor the Arch-Mage. I was forced to spend my time their naked, a specimen of research to everyone in the university. I was fed well to keep me fit and healthy, but suffered abuse at the hands of most. My master Cain Relabius was an unstable man, sometimes changing a fatherly hug into an attempt to crush my skull. It was only in the Archives that I was accepted as a man of education, and spent most time there. But I could never get close to anyone in the University... the barriers were always apparent.
For three years I covered my face and begged for coins before getting Armand Christophe, a member of the Thieves Guild who I met soon after my mother died, to buy my food for me. I stayed in the Waterfront District, never building up enough courage to venture into the other sections of Imperial City. It was in my eleventh year that my life took a turn for the better, on the Religious holiday of Mara. The Mage’s Guild had decided to take a visit to the Waterfront, to see what it was like to live rough. I had crawled out into the street when I had heard the droning beat of the forty or so padded feet marching along the shabbily cobbled road into the district.
I had reached out with one of my hands to touch them and see who they were. I felt cloaks of a handful of a collection of different textures, a feeling that aroused my senses as I grasped them tighter. It was then that I was lifted into the air by a strong pair of arms, that held me in a vice grip. They had said something to me, but I could not understand them. I did not know, nor could speak any language from the upper world and could only speak in Nethemer. I spoke back to him in my language, asking him what he said. All around me had gasped when I spoke in my peoples’ rich language. The mage holding me was now interested in me, so kept hold of me as he took me to his room in the Guild halls.
The man that took me back with him was an Apprentice at the Arcane University by the name of Cain Relabius. He was an Imperial who struggled in most areas of magic but excelled in restoration. He simply called me specimen, but treated me like a son. It was through him that I developed my eyesight. Because of him I could see a greyed version of the world, a world without colour. I shall be forever indebted to the man, for surely without him the world of Tamriel would be in ruins.
It was also at the University that I learnt to speak in common tongue. I travelled every morning before dawn to the Mystic Archives and learnt from the Apprentices there. It took a year and a half but I learnt to read write and speak common tongue. Because of my new found knowledge I now learnt some spells from the Scholars there, hiding in the bushes while they held their lessons. I found conjuration to be the most interesting of all the different areas of magic, although I stayed well away from the darker side of conjuration.
My life was not rosy in the Arcane University of course. No authority figures knew of my existence in their, neither the guards nor the Arch-Mage. I was forced to spend my time their naked, a specimen of research to everyone in the university. I was fed well to keep me fit and healthy, but suffered abuse at the hands of most. My master Cain Relabius was an unstable man, sometimes changing a fatherly hug into an attempt to crush my skull. It was only in the Archives that I was accepted as a man of education, and spent most time there. But I could never get close to anyone in the University... the barriers were always apparent.
Well it's finally starting to pick up.
It was on my seventeenth birthday that the Arch-Mage strode into my master’s quarters. He had spotted me around the University, and had questioned his council about me, finding out the truth of my existence in his District. He struck down Cain without any accusations, nor did he give him time to plead his innocence in the matter – It was clear to him what had happened and had enraged him to the point of aggression. Cain died in his bedroom, flames cast inside him causing his blood to heat and drown the Imperial. The Arch-Mage had left calmly, sure that his actions would not be noticed, but the Emperor had felt a death in his city and had sent guards to the University.
The Legion had found a pallid and wretched figure soaked in blood, cradling a dead man in his muscular arms and weeping on him. As they dragged me off him I wept bitterly and called his name, pleading for him to return to this plane of existence and visit me.
It was no surprise when I was sentenced to imprisonment for the murder of Apprentice Cain Relabius – All the evidence the Guard needed was set in stone in front of them. For their mistake I forgive them, there were no other options available to them with no other leads for them to follow through. I was given my first ever pieces of clothing, some worn sandals and patched trousers that were too large for me, and placed in a jail to serve my sentence gracefully.
A Dunmer resided in the cell across the hall from me. I had yet to meet a Dark Elf in my seventeen years, and was not all too impressed with the sight that graced my eyes. Unreliable as my sight was, I couldn’t fail to see what sort of person he was. He was crooked, both in personality and appearance, and stank of a substance all too common on the waterfront – Skooma. Although I was partial to both the drink and the smoke of Skooma, the Dunmer’s stench was that of a concoction found in places lower than the sewers. He had mixed the illegal ingredient with the juice of Nirnroot – a plant disgusting in its own right. This mixture would make the relatively expensive skooma last twice as long, but it was thrice as harmful and tenfold more disgusting than the pure version.
He goaded me the instant the guards were gone, calling me an Altmer and threatening that the guards were talking of executing me. He was obviously drunk as well as stupid, making him all the easier to ignore, so I turned my back and sat down by the table set out for me – munching on the small snack readily available.
It was on my seventeenth birthday that the Arch-Mage strode into my master’s quarters. He had spotted me around the University, and had questioned his council about me, finding out the truth of my existence in his District. He struck down Cain without any accusations, nor did he give him time to plead his innocence in the matter – It was clear to him what had happened and had enraged him to the point of aggression. Cain died in his bedroom, flames cast inside him causing his blood to heat and drown the Imperial. The Arch-Mage had left calmly, sure that his actions would not be noticed, but the Emperor had felt a death in his city and had sent guards to the University.
The Legion had found a pallid and wretched figure soaked in blood, cradling a dead man in his muscular arms and weeping on him. As they dragged me off him I wept bitterly and called his name, pleading for him to return to this plane of existence and visit me.
It was no surprise when I was sentenced to imprisonment for the murder of Apprentice Cain Relabius – All the evidence the Guard needed was set in stone in front of them. For their mistake I forgive them, there were no other options available to them with no other leads for them to follow through. I was given my first ever pieces of clothing, some worn sandals and patched trousers that were too large for me, and placed in a jail to serve my sentence gracefully.
A Dunmer resided in the cell across the hall from me. I had yet to meet a Dark Elf in my seventeen years, and was not all too impressed with the sight that graced my eyes. Unreliable as my sight was, I couldn’t fail to see what sort of person he was. He was crooked, both in personality and appearance, and stank of a substance all too common on the waterfront – Skooma. Although I was partial to both the drink and the smoke of Skooma, the Dunmer’s stench was that of a concoction found in places lower than the sewers. He had mixed the illegal ingredient with the juice of Nirnroot – a plant disgusting in its own right. This mixture would make the relatively expensive skooma last twice as long, but it was thrice as harmful and tenfold more disgusting than the pure version.
He goaded me the instant the guards were gone, calling me an Altmer and threatening that the guards were talking of executing me. He was obviously drunk as well as stupid, making him all the easier to ignore, so I turned my back and sat down by the table set out for me – munching on the small snack readily available.
Getting exciting now!! Heck, maybe someone will even read it.
It was as my teeth attempted to rip through the seemingly impenetrable crust of the ancient loaf in my hand that the sound of an opening door, and three people’s footsteps, reverberated down the grime ridden staircase and seeped into our cells. I yielded to the historical food product and placed back on the rotted table, turning on my heel as I stood. An old and withered man appeared outside my cell, flanked by two troops. They seemed high ranking, with ornamental armour covering their figures and an exquisitely crafted sword by their side. All three of the new arrivals stared at me in confusion, then faced each other with a gormless expression plastered on their faces. One of the guards seemed to apologise for my existence – a woman if I remember rightly. These were definitely ornamental troops.
They entered, regardless of my shoddy placement, and ordered me to the back wall. A strange feeling then came over me, causing me to become…detached from normal life and causing my soul to watch through a shield of my own restrictions. I seem to remember the old man telling me he knew me, and being told by the rear guard to stay out of the way before they opened up a secret passage by my bed and walked through. I held back for a moment, walking over to the bars of my cell. I smiled contemptuously at the Dunmer across the hall, revelling in the incredulous look apparent as he stared dimly at me. With a slight chuckle I followed the three into the passageways by my cell.
As we descended the stairs to venture deeper into the area beneath the Prison District we were ambushed by a handful of assassins clad in mysterious armour. The guards that had surrounded the emperor now charged forward, unleashing a flurry of attacks to every assassin. It was obvious I had been severely mistaken calling them ornamental – They were the most efficient fighting force I had ever witnessed. On the moment of death the masked attackers were immediately stripped of their armour. It was then I realised that it was fake armour, summoned by the wearer for use only at certain times.
As the Emperor and his bodyguards spoke amongst themselves I knelt reluctantly, my knee only slightly brushing against the dank stones beneath me, and searched their bodies for the item they had used to summon the magnificent armour. I cursed softly to myself upon finding that they owned no such item, but must have known it themselves. This must mean they were members of a close knit organisation, specialising in the arcane. It was most likely that they were members of a Daedric Cult, but which I could not tell.
I had no time to ponder this further however, as directly behind me the wall erupted with vermin - the rodents leaping at me with yellowed fangs bared. I yelped, and rolled forwards using my well positioned arms to lever the body of the assassin I was searching in between myself and the rat. It sank its teeth into scalp of the man, squealing with delight at flesh. The other rat had bounded past my barrier however, preferring the taste of live meat. I stood and turned, swinging my arm around my body and catapulting the rodent into wall to my left. It impacted with a satisfying crunch, its skull fractured. With the sight of its comrade in…paws beaten the other rat hurtled towards me, screeching with unbridled ferocity. I grinned, reaching out a hand to my target. Sensing a meal the rat attempted to close its jaws around my finger – a fatal mistake – before exploding into fleshy fragments as my fireball did its work inside the creature.
It was as my teeth attempted to rip through the seemingly impenetrable crust of the ancient loaf in my hand that the sound of an opening door, and three people’s footsteps, reverberated down the grime ridden staircase and seeped into our cells. I yielded to the historical food product and placed back on the rotted table, turning on my heel as I stood. An old and withered man appeared outside my cell, flanked by two troops. They seemed high ranking, with ornamental armour covering their figures and an exquisitely crafted sword by their side. All three of the new arrivals stared at me in confusion, then faced each other with a gormless expression plastered on their faces. One of the guards seemed to apologise for my existence – a woman if I remember rightly. These were definitely ornamental troops.
They entered, regardless of my shoddy placement, and ordered me to the back wall. A strange feeling then came over me, causing me to become…detached from normal life and causing my soul to watch through a shield of my own restrictions. I seem to remember the old man telling me he knew me, and being told by the rear guard to stay out of the way before they opened up a secret passage by my bed and walked through. I held back for a moment, walking over to the bars of my cell. I smiled contemptuously at the Dunmer across the hall, revelling in the incredulous look apparent as he stared dimly at me. With a slight chuckle I followed the three into the passageways by my cell.
As we descended the stairs to venture deeper into the area beneath the Prison District we were ambushed by a handful of assassins clad in mysterious armour. The guards that had surrounded the emperor now charged forward, unleashing a flurry of attacks to every assassin. It was obvious I had been severely mistaken calling them ornamental – They were the most efficient fighting force I had ever witnessed. On the moment of death the masked attackers were immediately stripped of their armour. It was then I realised that it was fake armour, summoned by the wearer for use only at certain times.
As the Emperor and his bodyguards spoke amongst themselves I knelt reluctantly, my knee only slightly brushing against the dank stones beneath me, and searched their bodies for the item they had used to summon the magnificent armour. I cursed softly to myself upon finding that they owned no such item, but must have known it themselves. This must mean they were members of a close knit organisation, specialising in the arcane. It was most likely that they were members of a Daedric Cult, but which I could not tell.
I had no time to ponder this further however, as directly behind me the wall erupted with vermin - the rodents leaping at me with yellowed fangs bared. I yelped, and rolled forwards using my well positioned arms to lever the body of the assassin I was searching in between myself and the rat. It sank its teeth into scalp of the man, squealing with delight at flesh. The other rat had bounded past my barrier however, preferring the taste of live meat. I stood and turned, swinging my arm around my body and catapulting the rodent into wall to my left. It impacted with a satisfying crunch, its skull fractured. With the sight of its comrade in…paws beaten the other rat hurtled towards me, screeching with unbridled ferocity. I grinned, reaching out a hand to my target. Sensing a meal the rat attempted to close its jaws around my finger – a fatal mistake – before exploding into fleshy fragments as my fireball did its work inside the creature.
Oh I'd already read the first part Konrad, just that I was waiting on more content and I didn't notice that you'd added so much sense I had last checked this thread. Sorry man, its a good read with a good balance of drama and plot building so please continue.
The journey within the catacombs was extensive and arduous beyond any such adventure I had ever undertaken – Stretching my abilities in ways I had never before imagined. I picked up many useful items along the way, items of value I had never before owned. Of course before that day I had never owned anything more than resentment and love for the people around me, so my new physical wealth was astounding to my beleaguered state beneath the city.
It was with patriotical delight that I realised the old man was in fact the Ruler of all Cyrodil! I had read much of him and his predecessors’ accomplishments, and could not believe my luck that I had come face to face with the Emperor. Once a beggar in the most hated and feared sitrict in the city, I was now near the man looked up to by Man, Mer and Beast.
There is a saying in the Waterfront – ‘To have fought and lost if better than to have never fought at all.’
Well if you swap fought for loved then there may be some truth in those words. I am glad to have once met the emperor, but it did make it all the more of a shock when the fatal assassin appeared behind him.
He seemingly came from out of the wall, a shadow quickly forming into a physical being…a being that drew a poison tipped dagger and slid it between the Emperor’s ribs. As I glanced down at the point of the dagger I embraced the Emperor, letting his fall slowly to the floor. While the guards of the Emperor dealt with the fiend, the ruler of Cyrodil spoke to me once more. He whispered to me of his lost heir, and of his trusted advisor Jauffre. He told me to take the Amulet on his body to Jauffre, and warned of the impending danger. I nodded, a tear relinquishing itself from my eyelashes and merging with his blood as the great man passed away. I closed my eyes and placed him on the floor respectfully, standing and facing the guard stood by me.
He was a large Redguard, with heavy set feature and broad shoulders. But now, with the events taking its toll on even the strongest of us, he stood in a way that made him look small and frail as he mourned over the loss of his leader. He kept muttering to himself of failure, and retribution upon the attackers. I nodded, engaging him in the conversation I had had since my master’s death.
“I am sorry, friend. There was little I could do for him.” I croaked to him, dipping my head in embarrassment at how feeble I must seem.
“It was not your hand that committed this deed, do not be frightened. I, Baurus Cretanius shall strike down all who attempt to taint this world!” he shouted threateningly, raising his arms and turning to face the door behind him.
“Please be calm, brother. The Emperor told me by his final dying words that I should take the amulet around his neck and transport it to Jauffre. Do you know where he is?” I enquired, placing a hand on his shoulder and turning him around to face me again.
“Of course I know where he is, what kind of a blade wouldn’t?” he asked me, a smile emerging on his face. He quickly transformed his emotions into a sturdy set, crossing his arms in front of him and shaking his head. “I shouldn’t believe you but….I must have faith. That amulet is the Amulet of Kings, and Jauffre is currently at the Weynon Priory – That’s just South East of Chorrol.” He told me, a resolute tone boldening his once shaky voice.
“Thank you…I must depart.” I told him, turning and kneeling beside the calm body of the Emperor. I slipped the Amulet off his neck and placed it in one of the trouser pockets, standing and taking a final look at him. “Rest easy, sir.” I whispered down to him, then went through the tunnel leading into the sewers.
It was with patriotical delight that I realised the old man was in fact the Ruler of all Cyrodil! I had read much of him and his predecessors’ accomplishments, and could not believe my luck that I had come face to face with the Emperor. Once a beggar in the most hated and feared sitrict in the city, I was now near the man looked up to by Man, Mer and Beast.
There is a saying in the Waterfront – ‘To have fought and lost if better than to have never fought at all.’
Well if you swap fought for loved then there may be some truth in those words. I am glad to have once met the emperor, but it did make it all the more of a shock when the fatal assassin appeared behind him.
He seemingly came from out of the wall, a shadow quickly forming into a physical being…a being that drew a poison tipped dagger and slid it between the Emperor’s ribs. As I glanced down at the point of the dagger I embraced the Emperor, letting his fall slowly to the floor. While the guards of the Emperor dealt with the fiend, the ruler of Cyrodil spoke to me once more. He whispered to me of his lost heir, and of his trusted advisor Jauffre. He told me to take the Amulet on his body to Jauffre, and warned of the impending danger. I nodded, a tear relinquishing itself from my eyelashes and merging with his blood as the great man passed away. I closed my eyes and placed him on the floor respectfully, standing and facing the guard stood by me.
He was a large Redguard, with heavy set feature and broad shoulders. But now, with the events taking its toll on even the strongest of us, he stood in a way that made him look small and frail as he mourned over the loss of his leader. He kept muttering to himself of failure, and retribution upon the attackers. I nodded, engaging him in the conversation I had had since my master’s death.
“I am sorry, friend. There was little I could do for him.” I croaked to him, dipping my head in embarrassment at how feeble I must seem.
“It was not your hand that committed this deed, do not be frightened. I, Baurus Cretanius shall strike down all who attempt to taint this world!” he shouted threateningly, raising his arms and turning to face the door behind him.
“Please be calm, brother. The Emperor told me by his final dying words that I should take the amulet around his neck and transport it to Jauffre. Do you know where he is?” I enquired, placing a hand on his shoulder and turning him around to face me again.
“Of course I know where he is, what kind of a blade wouldn’t?” he asked me, a smile emerging on his face. He quickly transformed his emotions into a sturdy set, crossing his arms in front of him and shaking his head. “I shouldn’t believe you but….I must have faith. That amulet is the Amulet of Kings, and Jauffre is currently at the Weynon Priory – That’s just South East of Chorrol.” He told me, a resolute tone boldening his once shaky voice.
“Thank you…I must depart.” I told him, turning and kneeling beside the calm body of the Emperor. I slipped the Amulet off his neck and placed it in one of the trouser pockets, standing and taking a final look at him. “Rest easy, sir.” I whispered down to him, then went through the tunnel leading into the sewers.
Another update...I can't help but double post. 
Thank you to my two readers.
My memory of the sewers has been lost to the ravages of time. I can simply remember the shaft of light tempting me towards it as I neared the end. I smiled as I wrenched open the rusted bars of the sewers, the handle crumbling away in my hand as the gate swung open, then walked steadily out of the passageway. I was revelling in the new found freedom that awaited me as I reached the end of the tunnel. This was to be a new era for me, a time free from the restraints of a greedy master…or poverty. I was to enter a new world – a world full of chance. I now had a goal I could work on, a purpose in life I could devote myself to. I could finally live.
I stepped out of the tunnel, and gasped at the sight that welcomed me so graciously. Secunda was low in the sky, making the small moon seem as though it was gazing at me from the heavens. The horizon glowed with the last of the day’s sun, a brilliant radiance so astounding a tear developed in the corner of one of my pale eyes and rolled slowly down my cheek. I had never before seen the beauty of nature in such vividity… from the moment I had been able to see I had been kept within the confines of the Arcane University. So many new sights would soon be appearing in my world – And one of them was staring me straight in the face.
Across the tributary that fed into the lake surrounding the city stood what I recognised from the many lore books as an Ayleid Ruin. These were once grand structures, perfectly clean and home to the clever Elven race that once inhabited Tamriel. Now the ruins were not so pristine, but the magnificence had not left it. The shards of magic that had inevitably been left behind drew my curiosity, and consequently me, towards its marble white frame.
I glanced around, wary of any danger that could approach. In between ramblings about the impact on mysticism the scholars had once talked about the dangers of the wilderness, and I had taken heed in preparation for my daring escape. Although my escape hadn’t worked out quite the way I had wanted it to I had finally worked my way out of danger and out of enslavement. It was not time to get attacked by one of the Mud Crabs I had heard about and give up the thin hope of a new life coming within my reach.
As much as I was smitten by the allure of the promise of new adventure, I felt the need to look over what I had in my possession so far – so I seated myself on a rock near the sewers and emptied my pockets, pouches and my pack onto the floor in front of me. An array of items valuable and petty lay before me. A small bundle of iron arrows, just over ten, lay wrapped in a thin leather thong. An iron bow lay beside them, and an iron warhammer beside it. These were all weighty and had taken their toll on me through the journey, but I knew that they could fetch some real money.
Between the bow and its loose string I placed a small leather pouch. Inside it was a good handful of lockpicks – not that I would use them in any dishonest fashion. A spare pare of trousers were wrapped in a bundle beside the bow. They must once have been a deep green, but had worn over the years. By the side of the trousers was a leather shield, and perched on top of that two scrolls. I had no need for a shield – I wouldn’t hide behind a barrier if I had the option to dance around my enemy, scorching them and ripping them piece by piece with my blade. The two scrolls were clean and crisp; obviously the goblins staying in the caves had not been there for long. Both the scrolls were standard manufactured scrolls, both weak and useless, but they could fetch a high enough price at the market to the mundane ones amongst us. They were Chameleon and fireball, but a weak chameleon is no use to anyone.
I’d neatly placed all my potion bottles into a small dip in the landscape, showing all their labels off. They were varied, with a potion for night-eye swamped by my more helpful potions. These included potions to enforce my cells to take action against infection and to heal my wounds quicker, as well as a weaker version with fewer side effects. There was also a potion to replenish my mind if it became overheated from extended use of Magicka, as well as a potion to increase my lung capacity.
So I had acquired a fair few magical items in the short period I spent beneath the city, but they were not all I had. I now owned smaller trinkets, but with a higher value. I picked up the two gems that I had acquired and placed them in the palm of my hand, bringing them closer to my eyes to try and discern what they were. One was quite round: The other square, but I could not tell which they were. I punched my fist into the wall in anger at my disability, the gems inside cutting my smooth skin and allowing blood to creep down my muscular limb. I grunted, withdrawing my hand, then placed the two stones back on the floor and drank a weaker healing potion.
The effects were fast, as well as the side effects. As my cells reacted with the potion to staunch the flow my brain dulled, causing a drowsiness to wash over me temporarily. I stood shakily to regain my balance, picking up my equipment to work my brain again. I soon came round, as did my hand, and I spotted a smaller item I hadn’t noticed before my rage. Embedded into the ground was a small nugget and although I was not one for colour I could tell immediately that this was gold – the glint it held within betrayed any hope it had of being unnoticed. I smiled…maybe my luck was changing!
Thank you to my two readers.
My memory of the sewers has been lost to the ravages of time. I can simply remember the shaft of light tempting me towards it as I neared the end. I smiled as I wrenched open the rusted bars of the sewers, the handle crumbling away in my hand as the gate swung open, then walked steadily out of the passageway. I was revelling in the new found freedom that awaited me as I reached the end of the tunnel. This was to be a new era for me, a time free from the restraints of a greedy master…or poverty. I was to enter a new world – a world full of chance. I now had a goal I could work on, a purpose in life I could devote myself to. I could finally live.
I stepped out of the tunnel, and gasped at the sight that welcomed me so graciously. Secunda was low in the sky, making the small moon seem as though it was gazing at me from the heavens. The horizon glowed with the last of the day’s sun, a brilliant radiance so astounding a tear developed in the corner of one of my pale eyes and rolled slowly down my cheek. I had never before seen the beauty of nature in such vividity… from the moment I had been able to see I had been kept within the confines of the Arcane University. So many new sights would soon be appearing in my world – And one of them was staring me straight in the face.
Across the tributary that fed into the lake surrounding the city stood what I recognised from the many lore books as an Ayleid Ruin. These were once grand structures, perfectly clean and home to the clever Elven race that once inhabited Tamriel. Now the ruins were not so pristine, but the magnificence had not left it. The shards of magic that had inevitably been left behind drew my curiosity, and consequently me, towards its marble white frame.
I glanced around, wary of any danger that could approach. In between ramblings about the impact on mysticism the scholars had once talked about the dangers of the wilderness, and I had taken heed in preparation for my daring escape. Although my escape hadn’t worked out quite the way I had wanted it to I had finally worked my way out of danger and out of enslavement. It was not time to get attacked by one of the Mud Crabs I had heard about and give up the thin hope of a new life coming within my reach.
As much as I was smitten by the allure of the promise of new adventure, I felt the need to look over what I had in my possession so far – so I seated myself on a rock near the sewers and emptied my pockets, pouches and my pack onto the floor in front of me. An array of items valuable and petty lay before me. A small bundle of iron arrows, just over ten, lay wrapped in a thin leather thong. An iron bow lay beside them, and an iron warhammer beside it. These were all weighty and had taken their toll on me through the journey, but I knew that they could fetch some real money.
Between the bow and its loose string I placed a small leather pouch. Inside it was a good handful of lockpicks – not that I would use them in any dishonest fashion. A spare pare of trousers were wrapped in a bundle beside the bow. They must once have been a deep green, but had worn over the years. By the side of the trousers was a leather shield, and perched on top of that two scrolls. I had no need for a shield – I wouldn’t hide behind a barrier if I had the option to dance around my enemy, scorching them and ripping them piece by piece with my blade. The two scrolls were clean and crisp; obviously the goblins staying in the caves had not been there for long. Both the scrolls were standard manufactured scrolls, both weak and useless, but they could fetch a high enough price at the market to the mundane ones amongst us. They were Chameleon and fireball, but a weak chameleon is no use to anyone.
I’d neatly placed all my potion bottles into a small dip in the landscape, showing all their labels off. They were varied, with a potion for night-eye swamped by my more helpful potions. These included potions to enforce my cells to take action against infection and to heal my wounds quicker, as well as a weaker version with fewer side effects. There was also a potion to replenish my mind if it became overheated from extended use of Magicka, as well as a potion to increase my lung capacity.
So I had acquired a fair few magical items in the short period I spent beneath the city, but they were not all I had. I now owned smaller trinkets, but with a higher value. I picked up the two gems that I had acquired and placed them in the palm of my hand, bringing them closer to my eyes to try and discern what they were. One was quite round: The other square, but I could not tell which they were. I punched my fist into the wall in anger at my disability, the gems inside cutting my smooth skin and allowing blood to creep down my muscular limb. I grunted, withdrawing my hand, then placed the two stones back on the floor and drank a weaker healing potion.
The effects were fast, as well as the side effects. As my cells reacted with the potion to staunch the flow my brain dulled, causing a drowsiness to wash over me temporarily. I stood shakily to regain my balance, picking up my equipment to work my brain again. I soon came round, as did my hand, and I spotted a smaller item I hadn’t noticed before my rage. Embedded into the ground was a small nugget and although I was not one for colour I could tell immediately that this was gold – the glint it held within betrayed any hope it had of being unnoticed. I smiled…maybe my luck was changing!
On a completely unrelated note, can you claim compensation for damage to one's ego?
*clap* Very good! I liked how you added a backstory prior to the dungeon cell scene. Very descriptive writing style, and very 'intimate' (so that you could feel sympathy for the protagonist) in characterization.
I assume that the mother was of a fan-made race, or is it a mysterious canon TES race that I wasn't aware of?
Please excuse my lack of TES knowledge. *blushes*
Anyway, it is well-written, so please continue!
The only constructive criticism I have is that the story 'flows' too fast at certain points, meaning one second the emporer is alive and the next, before I was aware of it, he was dead. It is like reading a summary on the back of the book at that point (stuff happening too fast), not letting me take a breather.
Besides that, very nice, and I hope you will continue despite my horrible critique(sp?)skills.
I liked how you added a backstory prior to the dungeon cell scene. Very descriptive writing style, and very 'intimate' (so that you could feel sympathy for the protagonist) in characterization. I assume that the mother was of a fan-made race, or is it a mysterious canon TES race that I wasn't aware of?
Please excuse my lack of TES knowledge. *blushes* Anyway, it is well-written, so please continue!
The only constructive criticism I have is that the story 'flows' too fast at certain points, meaning one second the emporer is alive and the next, before I was aware of it, he was dead. It is like reading a summary on the back of the book at that point (stuff happening too fast), not letting me take a breather.
Besides that, very nice, and I hope you will continue despite my horrible critique(sp?)skills.
Thanks! The whole bit from the cell to leaving the sewers was rushed because I was attempting to remember it from the first day I bought the game (the day it came out) as my PC crashes at that point. A lot of annoying dowloads later and I can start just before I exit the sewers.
Yes, Nethemer is a purely make believe race.
Yes, Nethemer is a purely make believe race.
QUOTE(Konradude @ Apr 18 2006, 06:09 PM)
Thanks! The whole bit from the cell to leaving the sewers was rushed because I was attempting to remember it from the first day I bought the game (the day it came out) as my PC crashes at that point. A lot of annoying dowloads later and I can start just before I exit the sewers.
Yes, Nethemer is a purely make believe race.
Yes, Nethemer is a purely make believe race.
Ah, yes, I know how that feels (trying to recall events from the game)!
I feel your pain, especially when I don't remember what certain characters said or even their names. Ah, make-believe race. Well, it sounded like a good, possible race to me.
A nice small update
It must have been reaching seven in the evening when I stepped cautiously onto the planks of the jetty. As I walked to the end of it I shivered gently, peering down at the water below me. The river glistened in the brilliance of the glow from the appearing stars, reflecting Secunda perfectly in its calm waters. I would have to swim in that shortly, if I was going to get anything done for the day…or find a place where I wasn’t going to freeze to death. A small boat was beached by the side of the jetty, but without oars and in its position it would take me hours to get it in the water then the only good it would do me would be getting me lost at sea.
I strapped my various pouches up tightly, wary of the damage water could do. I decided not to jump in, but walk slowly in from the side with my bow, quiver and scrolls above my head. This would keep some of my more fragile items safe, while making sure I didn’t drown myself in the shock of jumping into freezing water. I slowly stepped into the water, barely holding back a cure as the thin liquid seeped through my threadbare trousers and chilled my skin. I kept my arms straight as I delved deeper down into the depths, standing on tiptoes until it was impossible and kicking out with my legs to paddle across slowly. I had to thank my mother for teaching me how to swim – I suppose living in the waterfront was a good thing after all.
Finally, as the land rose once more to meet the open air, my feet scurried up the embankment and I collapsed in a heap on the floor. My legs were aching, but my equipment was in the best condition possible. That would make it easier for them to sell, and I could get myself some real toys to play with.
I strapped my bow back onto my side and slipped the quiver over my head. It was time to investigate.
It must have been reaching seven in the evening when I stepped cautiously onto the planks of the jetty. As I walked to the end of it I shivered gently, peering down at the water below me. The river glistened in the brilliance of the glow from the appearing stars, reflecting Secunda perfectly in its calm waters. I would have to swim in that shortly, if I was going to get anything done for the day…or find a place where I wasn’t going to freeze to death. A small boat was beached by the side of the jetty, but without oars and in its position it would take me hours to get it in the water then the only good it would do me would be getting me lost at sea.
I strapped my various pouches up tightly, wary of the damage water could do. I decided not to jump in, but walk slowly in from the side with my bow, quiver and scrolls above my head. This would keep some of my more fragile items safe, while making sure I didn’t drown myself in the shock of jumping into freezing water. I slowly stepped into the water, barely holding back a cure as the thin liquid seeped through my threadbare trousers and chilled my skin. I kept my arms straight as I delved deeper down into the depths, standing on tiptoes until it was impossible and kicking out with my legs to paddle across slowly. I had to thank my mother for teaching me how to swim – I suppose living in the waterfront was a good thing after all.
Finally, as the land rose once more to meet the open air, my feet scurried up the embankment and I collapsed in a heap on the floor. My legs were aching, but my equipment was in the best condition possible. That would make it easier for them to sell, and I could get myself some real toys to play with.
I strapped my bow back onto my side and slipped the quiver over my head. It was time to investigate.
The next Installment
I crawled up to the lip of the river bank, wrapping my fingers around the cracked edges of an Ayleid stone and hauling myself up to a good vantage point. As I optically scouted the ruins, my shadowed eyes spotted a plume of smoke rising just to the right of the ruin. I pulled back, preparing myself for if I had been spotted.
After an uneventful couple of minutes staring at the night sky and praying to whatever Gods were listening I decided it was safe to have another look. As I lifted my head, slower this time than before, I gazed at the sight in front of me.
Where I had expected a wolf or two and their owner – or maybe one of those Ayleid skeletons I had read about – I found a much more fearful sight. A band of four, maybe five bandits were camped only a few metres away! I stifled a gasp and checked their position more closely. Two of them were standing around the fire cooking something, but I was too far to discern any detail on either the humans or their meal. The others were sitting to the left of the fire, gazing over something in between them.
I shuffled to the left, as to make the stone block the view. I was neither willing nor prepared to harm these people – I knew not what they had done and any attempts at harm would surely cause my death. I had not been free long enough to be foolish…yet.
I crawled up to the lip of the river bank, wrapping my fingers around the cracked edges of an Ayleid stone and hauling myself up to a good vantage point. As I optically scouted the ruins, my shadowed eyes spotted a plume of smoke rising just to the right of the ruin. I pulled back, preparing myself for if I had been spotted.
After an uneventful couple of minutes staring at the night sky and praying to whatever Gods were listening I decided it was safe to have another look. As I lifted my head, slower this time than before, I gazed at the sight in front of me.
Where I had expected a wolf or two and their owner – or maybe one of those Ayleid skeletons I had read about – I found a much more fearful sight. A band of four, maybe five bandits were camped only a few metres away! I stifled a gasp and checked their position more closely. Two of them were standing around the fire cooking something, but I was too far to discern any detail on either the humans or their meal. The others were sitting to the left of the fire, gazing over something in between them.
I shuffled to the left, as to make the stone block the view. I was neither willing nor prepared to harm these people – I knew not what they had done and any attempts at harm would surely cause my death. I had not been free long enough to be foolish…yet.
So...sorry for not answering sooner...I like the story, and you desrcibe the character, the surroundings, his thought and so in a very interesting way...please dont stop.
oh, I love the screens, and parthicularly the Nethemer...a Jona for you...
oh, I love the screens, and parthicularly the Nethemer...a Jona for you...
thanks for the comments! A more humorous update.
I shimmied over to the entrance of the ruins, keeping an eye on the bandits in case they decided to pop inside. Upon reaching the door I smiled at the beauty of it, reaching out and stroking my fingers along its intricate detail. This art had been crafted so many decades ago, yet it was still intact and flourishing – the craftsmanship intrigued me. The Ayleid had certain been a special race, yet they were wiped out. Who or what had caused them to perish? I vowed to find out.
I checked around the area of the door. To the left was a broken barrel, the inside of it dark in the impending night ambience. I reached inside, my hand clutching at air until it settled on something. It was round, smooth and hard – This could be the fortune I’d dreamed of! I withdrew my hand slowly, smiling to myself. As the moon’s small amount of brilliance reflected off the object I stared at it.
An onion. It was the second time in my life I had been let down by a vegetable. I shall not speak of the other – the pain is still too near. I reached in again and this time pulled out a lettuce. Well at least I had some food for the day. I looked around me as I sat vigilantly on my haunches. I spotted what looked like a clump of bergamot plants. It had been in the club where my mother had once worked that I learnt never to use bergamot as massaging lotion in direct sunlight, but I most likely wouldn’t use the bergamot seeds I had picked from the plants for massage lotion. They would fortify my alchemical research.
It was finally time to enter the ancient ruin, a whole new underground world of exploration. I checked all my equipment, tightening any loose straps and straightening out my sheath then slowly slid open the door to the ruin.
I shimmied over to the entrance of the ruins, keeping an eye on the bandits in case they decided to pop inside. Upon reaching the door I smiled at the beauty of it, reaching out and stroking my fingers along its intricate detail. This art had been crafted so many decades ago, yet it was still intact and flourishing – the craftsmanship intrigued me. The Ayleid had certain been a special race, yet they were wiped out. Who or what had caused them to perish? I vowed to find out.
I checked around the area of the door. To the left was a broken barrel, the inside of it dark in the impending night ambience. I reached inside, my hand clutching at air until it settled on something. It was round, smooth and hard – This could be the fortune I’d dreamed of! I withdrew my hand slowly, smiling to myself. As the moon’s small amount of brilliance reflected off the object I stared at it.
An onion. It was the second time in my life I had been let down by a vegetable. I shall not speak of the other – the pain is still too near. I reached in again and this time pulled out a lettuce. Well at least I had some food for the day. I looked around me as I sat vigilantly on my haunches. I spotted what looked like a clump of bergamot plants. It had been in the club where my mother had once worked that I learnt never to use bergamot as massaging lotion in direct sunlight, but I most likely wouldn’t use the bergamot seeds I had picked from the plants for massage lotion. They would fortify my alchemical research.
It was finally time to enter the ancient ruin, a whole new underground world of exploration. I checked all my equipment, tightening any loose straps and straightening out my sheath then slowly slid open the door to the ruin.
This is one remarkable story, so vivid descriptions of the young man, his background and life-history. Not to mention the screenshots..ohhh just awesome. You do have a skill for writing here Konrad and I will most certainly read and follow this story.
Now it might happen that you update more frequent than I have the possibility to read and comment but I will read it all with pleasure!
Now it might happen that you update more frequent than I have the possibility to read and comment but I will read it all with pleasure!
You have really captured the wonder and feel of Oblivion with this character- the back-story gives him even more life and dimension. I loved the onion bit- it perfectly demonstrates the effect of the leveling system....
thanks for all your comments - just checked, and it now totals over 5000 words. so its the longest story ive ever written
so its the longest story ive ever written
Ah, finally caught up with it. And I like it!
Yeah ive been following this story and i really like it, i like the descriptions of the charactor and those around him, i really am enjoying the story espically the screenshots keep the updates coming 
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