Hey, this is my first ever TES fan fic. Im new to this whole thing, but reading many of the ones posted by people here, I decided to give it a go. As I said, Im not anywhere as good as most people here, in fact the last time I wrote any kind of story was at school.

Anyway, enough excuses, dont mind posting anything negative as Ill just be glad to know if I should or shouldnt continue with this or not. Its late now so I decided to write this and then be off. Enjoy, or dont.

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Crossing the sea of ghosts.

Joryn was pacing around on deck, the sea air helped him fine tune his objectives. Cool moist air and a clear open ocean, which he find profoundly calming. It was hard for him to believe, for the first time he was going to set foot out of his home province. Not that he was particularly brimming with excitement, he was a Dunmer, and as such showed little enthusiasm for the other races or their cultures. He was also a Telvanni to boot, so not the most culturally broad minded specimen to be sure.

Still, Morrowind had been home for his twenty odd years of life so far. Young for a mer, but Joryn had been quick to gain a fair position in his house. An impressive feat, considering the contempt shown to him by many of the higher ranking Telvanni. But this had undoubtedly been made easier as his Masters sphere of influence grew.

Master Aryon, one who had shown a dislike for the old and rigid ways the near corpses on the council ruled, couldn’t have been a better master for Joryn. He and many others like him were given a chance under Aryon. Now their worth was measured by their abilities, and not the centuries they had lived.

But his task beckoned, and he was not going to get the best perspective on it by mulling over his current status within the Telvanni. Master Aryon had summoned him only yesterday and told him of a mission of some importance for the council. A particular amulet rumoured to rest within the ruins of the ancient and extinct Ayleid Empire throughout Cyrodiil.

It stank of personal gain for one of the councillors to get an upper hand, but he had no intentions of letting his master down. Joryn would play fetch and be sure that the trinket landed in the lap of whom it would benefit him most. This would of course be Aryon. Aryon had also mentioned not ruling out aid from the mages guild, a peculiar request, but one that made sense.

It was clear that the Telvanni had no intention of being caught with their exquisite pants down. After another quick look around, it was perhaps time to throw a few encouraging words the captain’s way. “We are making good time, no?” he asked optimistically. “Aye that we are laddy, but I bein sure to keep my nose outta Telvanni business” he chortled “Buncha necromancers to be sure, but they pays well mind you”.

Joryn half smiled at the captain, “I take it we are headed to Blacklight?”
“That we are, after a short stop at Dagon Fel, but we will arrive within the hour laddy”. “Very well” was all Joryn was prepared to finish on, he headed down below deck. “Not much of a talker, eh?” the captain snorted.

Joryn kept himself occupied with his spells and books throughout the rest of the journey. He had no intention of spending time in Dagon Fel, there would be time to waste in Blacklight. But until then Joryn was planning on ways to make his stay in Cyrodiil as short as possible. He was bitter enough about the arrogant humans poking their noses into his home, and not being a hypocrite, was uncomfortable about doing the same to them.

After dozing off in a hammock Joryn was quickly awakened by a loud thud and a familiar loutish voice. “Here we are lady, needn’t you worry bout the payment, you’re keepers saw to that”.With a nod Joryn added “Excellent, now captain it has been a pleasure but I must depart now, perhaps we will meet on my return trip, until then farewell”. “You too laddy!” The captain offered a two fingered salute as Joryn left.

Stepping out into the docks, Joryn’s first priority was to find a tavern. Get something to eat and drink. Weaving his way through the crowded streets with many Dunmer and the odd outlander, wasn’t much trouble. He was hardly packed for a trek, he wore his plain mages robes and carried only a reasonable amount of his gold with him. Also he brought some magical equipment and what little information he could scrape about this amulet. If he needed to make some minor potions on the move he could also manage that.

After a little searching he found a reasonable place to stop, a small tavern called The Unburdened Traveller. The place seemed quiet enough as he entered, and a pretty young Dunmer barmaid smiled pleasantly as he approached. On his way to the bar he was suddenly hit by a strong stench of mead on the air, and eyed a large Nord with his head in his mug, sitting in the corner. Quietly, which was a relief.

“What can I get you, sera?” the young barmaid asked. “Just a mazte, some hound meat and slaughterfish scales if you please”. After quickly preparing his order, she laid the food and drink down in front of Joryn as he passed her the 15 gold. The barmaid's pleasant smile disappeared in an instant. Joryn was too busy stuffing his food down to take notice of the Nord no longer occupied by his cups in the corner, and had walked up behind him. Joryn, with a chunk of hound meat sticking out of his mouth, was taken by surprise as the brutish Nord flipped him around to face him. Joryn’s jaw dropped along with the hound meat, which slapped onto the stone floor.

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Enjoy it or not, thanks if you took the time to read it. I look forward to hearing if Im good enough to continue with this.

Aaaw! Poor Joryn! Continue! I must know what happens next!

I like it. Only thing is, i'd make what one person says be on one line, and drop a line for the response, for example.

Other than that, i'm looking forward to an update.

Okay here is another part of my little story. Ill try and keep the things people say in a better order. There isnt much talk between people at the moment, Ill make sure there is more if I continue with this. Just need to build up some more confindence first. See what you think anyway.

And thank you Kayla and Stranger, I dont care how much you liked it, just that you liked it a little suits me just fine.
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Continuing from the tavern

For a moment Joryn couldn’t tell what was going on, the large Nord had grabbed him by the robes and was shaking him violently. While his face was being assaulted by the Nord’s mead soaked breath and spittle, Joryn discovered that he had apparently taken offence to his quick glance on the way in.

This was typical of his luck, of all the rowdy Nords in Tamriel, he had to glance at one who would take it personally. Perhaps it was time to see if it was too late to talk.
“I don’t suppose you’re willing to talk this over another mug of mead?”
“Not a chance chump, Im going to enjoy slapping you all over this here bar!”
The barmaid, who now looked as if this was nothing new, then asked
“Would you please try and leave at least a portion of the bar intact this time Fjortred?”

Apparently “Fjortred” was finished talking, and punctuated this by thumping Joryn on the top of the head. The only high point to his ending up on his knees was that he could now grab a stool off the floor. Joryn hoisted the nearest stool and proceeded to smash it over the Nords barrel chest. This didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest though, as he only stood there laughing in Joryn’s face. After Joryn had seen as much of the Nords open mouth, laughing right in front of his face, Joryn got a headbutt for his troubles.

As he started to get up after what felt more like a warhammer to the face, Joryn was going to mention something about thanks being in order. As Fjortred was lucky he didn’t actually sit on the chair Joryn had just smashed over him. But he was only greeted by the huge Nords fist to his face, knocking him over the nearest table. Joryn, the table and everything on top of it went crashing to the ground. The barmaid immediately started to the door saying “I think it’s about time I went to find the guards, you two just wait right here, okay boys?”.

Joryn, slumped over the table with a nose bleed and watering eyes, decided it was time to change the plan before he was knocked clean out. He readied a simple spell as the thump of the Nords heavy boots signalled his approach. When he was close enough to Joryn he grasped the Nords trousers, causing them to burst into flames. As the Nord went into a frenzy trying to put out the fire, Joryn quickly searched the area for a weapon.

He spotted and grabbed a poker from next to the fire and made his way towards the Nord, who was still hysterical and preoccupied with putting it out somehow.
“Sweet dreams you blasted oaf!” was all Joryn offered before he smashed the poker over the Nords head. Amazingly, he only dropped to his knees.
“You Nords certainly are tenacious!” Joryn said as he dropped the bent metal rod.
It was time to finish this. Finish it, meaning give Joryn ample time to escape. He cast a paralyze spell on the Nord and left him, trousers still aflame on the floor, helpless.

After grabbing what little gear he had and the mazte he had left at the bar, Joryn made for the exit. Bear soaked and bleeding at the nose, Joryn figured taking the main street wasn’t wise after that incident. Making his way down the nearest alley, he turned to see two guards accompanying the “pleasant” barmaid. He would have to be more careful next time he wanted to waste time. Not even out of Morrowind, and almost ending up in a jail cell, a perfect start. He sincerely hoped he had burnt off something a little more personal to the idiot Nord than just his trousers.

After running his hands down his face with a healing spell, Joryns bruises lessened and his nose bleed also stopped. Deciding on whether to stop at a store before leaving Blacklight, he decided it would be best to at least reach Cyrodiil before getting into more trouble. With out any more fuss Joryn headed for the gates.

On his arrival he was stopped by a large Dunmer guard wielding a spear.
“No problems I hope officer, Im just looking to get under way with my journey?”
The guard eyed him suspiciously, and Joryn was suddenly contemplating the possibility of a Telvanni rival cursing him with bad luck. Certainly if his luck was going to continue on this course it seemed likely. Or it was imagination, either way he was sick of it as soon as it had started.

“Very well, you can leave, but I advise you to take care on your journey, strangers who cause trouble never last long around here”.
Joryn decided to show his lack of interest by yawning theatrically. It was clear he had succeeded in irritating the guard, but the gates were open and he was finally on his way.

Joryn never realised how much he valued his solitude in his quarters back at Tel Vos. Nobody would bother him when he was there, or at least not often enough for him to make a deal out of it. While that was definitely the first random bar fight Joryn had ever gotten into, he never thought about how little he ever interacted with anyone other than his Telvanni friends. Even though he had managed to do a little travelling around Vvardenfell and some of the mainland, it was clear he had some things to learn still.

It was a clear day and an open road, which Joryn welcomed. He certainly didn’t have a problem with sticking to himself until he got to Cyrodiil. Certainly a quiet and uneventful trip across the border and to Cheydinhal would help him put that idiocy he had recently been a part of behind him. Perhaps while he was travelling on a quiet road, it would be a good opportunity to find out more about this Ayleid amulet he was sent to find.

From what he had read on it, it was called the amulet of Ayleid mastery, probably a useful conjuring trinket, from what little he knew of the Ayleids. It seemed simple enough; a few of councillors had taken a liking to this trinket, and decided to send someone to play fetch. A game he played quite often when rising up the ranks of the Telvanni. And if he truly needed to let the mages guild know what he was doing in Cyrodiil and possibly ask for their assistance, Joryn would no doubt have to toady about around them as well.

An imaginative plot, with good descriptive elements. We are getting some sense of who Joryn is- I hope to see more of his motivations, personality, etc.

Aryon must want the amulet badly if he is willing to advise seeking aid from the Mages Guild. And I have a feeling the Mages will make Joryn pay a high price for their help...

Heh, a Nord Mage's Guild... That'd be funny...

anyway... Good story, a note though Nords have VERY extended families and they'll be out to get you

Excellent way to defeat someone! Set their pants on fire! Looking forward to the next update.

Well I decided to post another update. Ill try to work on another soon, and hopefully Ill manage to make it more exciting. I apologize, I know it has been fairly boring so far, especially compared to some of the other fan fics Ive read bits of. Anyway, hope you enjoy.

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Somewhere south of Blacklight

Joryn was half asleep, watching the sun disappear, coating the landscape in a gentle orange glow as it descended. He had been walking for some now. Why? He was unsure, but it was at least his hope to find someone transportation at some point. Certainly he didn’t like the idea of walking all the way down south to Cyrodiil. Still, a few more hours rest and he would set off again. He had no real problem with travelling by night, he could see well enough in the dark, even without the aid of spells.

Perhaps some would be put off by the dangers that come with travelling by night, but Joryn never really considered the many beasts or people who could end his life. He saw it as those that spend all their time thinking of what can kill them, always get finished off by what they didn’t think would. Bandits certainly weren’t a problem, unless they caught him unawares. Normally he just would not allow anything to see him if he didn’t want them to.

Perhaps it would have been easier to find passage while he was at Blacklight, but this time alone did him good, as always. The temperature was beginning to get lower as the day became later, be as usual his magic would aid him in most obstacles. He was certainly thankful for the time of year, for this close to Skyrim a few months earlier would have been much more difficult. As he continued to ponder and grow drowsy he calmly drifted off to sleep.

Joryn awoke softly to an open night sky. The air was much colder now, and judging by the sky he had been asleep for a few hours. Now was the time to continue south, but with knowing that Cyrodiil was not so far away was an encouraging and discouraging thought at the same time. His thoughts had not changed however, and he was ever uncomfortable with the idea of travelling to the province of the humans who seemed to love their own image and empire more than any other race.

Suddenly Joryn stopped in his tracks, his ears twitching slightly. The main road was nearby; there were sounds of what could only be a merchant caravan in the distance. Joryn quickened his pace and within a minute or so he could make out torchlight in the distance. He certainly wasn’t about to shout or make any light of his own, so despite it being a stupid idea, he decided to make his way to the caravan through the dark.

As he approached the caravan he could make out two guards either side of the front of the caravan. As they were close to the torch light, and Joryn was nearly in their sight now he could make they were most likely all Dunmer, and were now looking in his direction with strained eyes. The caravan came to a sudden stop and the few guards there were stood alongside the left where Joryn was approaching.

“Who goes there? Speak, but mind your words, they shall determine if we let you live or not!”
“My apologies, I am simply a travelling mage, and I was wondering if I could beg your assistance?” Joryn calmly replied, with a warm smile on his face.
“Come into our torchlight, but be warned, we are ready for any treachery!”
Joryn slowly stepped forward, arms outstretched either side of him.

A middle aged Dunmer woman in chain mail and armed with a scimitar stepped forward. She scrutinized Joryn with a frown.
“Hmph, well you certainly aren’t dressed or armed, even as a bandit wizard.”
That was at least a small relief. But this wasn’t finished just yet.
“We certainly don’t take on travellers mid journey, and especially not at this hour. If you are simply a traveller, I suggest you slowly move off, lest we use force for fear of treachery”.

“No faith in my good intentions? Very well, perhaps it would be wise to seek out transportation at a more reasonable hour, I apologize.” Joryn certainly wasn’t in the mood for waiting around till morning, then also having to look for a ride. No he still had a few tricks that would help. He very slowly pushed his arms out in front, palms facing towards the female guard captain, and carefully cast a charm spell. The guards probably only saw this as an odd apologetic gesture, but if they had their eyes on the captain as Joryn performed this action, they might have suspected some spell craft.

“I apologize for startling you and your men at this hour; I shall be on my way now.”
The features of the captain softened, and she looked as though she was about to say something.
“Wait! Perhaps, with adequate compensation we can accommodate you, provided you are under guard and behave.” The guards looked at each other with confused looks on their faces.
“Ah, that is most kind of you, I am eternally grateful” Joryn added, with that familiar half smile on his face.

Joryn was taken towards the back of the caravan by one of the guards, and he began to make himself as comfortable as he could.
“I take it you are headed for the Cyrodiil border, yes?” the guard asked.
“Indeed, and I thank you again for your aid”.
The guard was uninterested in his thanks and took up his place as the caravan started off again. Joryn slowly drifted back to sleep as the caravan slowly made its way towards the border.

hmmmm... I... oh never mind. Just keep writing!!

One last update for anyone interested before I finish on the internet for tonight. See what you think.

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On a caravan close to the Morrowind/Cyrodiil border

Joryn was abruptly awoken by a mailed finger poking him in the ribs.
“Wake up boy, were not far off now.” It appeared to be the female captain from the night before, and not pleased with Joryn’s easy night.
“Certainly early Isn’t it? I can barely make out the sun yet.” Joryn said, rubbing the sleep from his tired eyes. He preferred a long lie in, at least he did when he was at Tel Vos.

“Honestly, do you have no shame kid, sleeping throughout the night like that? I was sure your mumbling would attract creatures for miles around.” An apparently miffed guard added.
“I apologize if I did not sleep as soundly as was prudent for you, your five star accommodation clearly did not agree with me, hmm?”

The captain was in no mood for this bickering, especially after a long night they had all (bar Joryn of course) endured.
“Enough! So long as our mage friend compensates us for our trouble we should have no further need to discuss this.” One or two of the guards were obviously beginning to find Joryn’s slightly spoilt child attitude a tad annoying. Joryn only grinned and said to the complaining guard “I like her.”

As Joryn knew, continuing to sit in the back of the caravan would only get him more bellyaching. So he decided to take a place alongside the guards. He caught himself wondering what the caravan’s contents were. It was probably nothing of any major worth by itself. Joryn just thought it as maybe kwama eggs and the like. Still, he couldn’t argue with the protection. Bandits all over Tamriel had gotten more daring as the problems over the Imperial succession worsened.

It was quite clear the rules had changed as of late. It was no longer what was worth the risk of stealing. It was simply whatever they could steal, they stole. Certainly anyone who travelled in these times was aware that running into bandits was a likely occurance. Still it was clear his thoughts about bandits were shared throughout the small group. Joryn realised his good fortune in not having some fat merchant tag along with his goods. It was at least good to know that misfortune would not be hovering over his shoulder for the entire journey.

Joryn hadn’t noticed that he was staring in the captains direction. She was attractive enough, sure. Joryn found plenty of Dunmer women attractive, and much more so than any women of the other races. But this was not what he staring for. Neither was it that she appeared to be a capable a strong woman, something else Joryn looked for. His skill at reading faces was terrible enough, but even he could plainly see she was troubled. And it appeared that way with all of the guards.

“My dear captain, perhaps you would not have a problem telling a clueless mage what troubles you?”
She looked over her shoulder at Joryn and gave him a look showing clearly she was in no mood for childish games.
“You waste your breath boy; you know damn well what were expecting.”
“Ah, there I was thinking I might be spared such an annoyance.” Joryn sighed.
“I am sure that the bandits will be polite enough to steer clear if only you would inform them of that.” She said, her words dripping with sarcasm.

“Quite so, but I am sure that would be no match for any suggestion your scimitar tip might send their way, eh?” Joryn chuckled. She said nothing, but showed a hint of a smile at least.
“So mageling, any hint on your purpose in the imperial province?” She said, arching an eyebrow.
“Me, I am a humble Telvanni servant, out to retrieve a trinket of no importance.”

Joryn had to come believe it was going to turn out to be much more than what he let on. He would not tell that to his own mother (if he knew who she was) let alone a person he hardly knew.
“Ah, I see a Telvanni then. I should have guessed that sooner. Say no more.”
“Heh, it appears it is now you who is wasting your breath. I have heard all this countless times before.” Joryn said while yawning.

It was beginning to open into morning, with a clear blue sky and warm sunshine. Joryn seemed to forget the danger that troubled them so just a couple of hours before.
“If we continue like this, it looks hopeful this caravan may complete its trip unmolested after all, you think?” Before the captain could give a reply an arrow thumped into the side of the caravan a few inches in front of Joryn.
“Oh nuts…..” was the best Joryn could offer before no doubt more bandits descended upon them.

That was good... I really like Joryn's personality... never worring about anything... I hope it does not get him in to much trouble... hahaha... who am I kiddin... of course I want to see some heads roll!... anyways good job Joryn I think this story is comming along very nicely...

Kudos Joryn... Kudos

no worries! kinda like me... (real me) neh, it'll all work out ok... (it always does) I think he has the ... for the guard captain...

This story is coming along very nicely. I like Joryn alot! Keep the updates comin'!

Hey thanks again for all the positive comments people. I was a little nervous at first, but you lot have really made it easier for me. Kayla, TheStranger, treydog, Darkhunter and Mazelure thanks.

Alongside side the merchant caravan near the border.

Joryn’s eyes drifted slowly along the arrow shaft and off to his left. The archer was in plain sight on top of a small hill, but it seemed his or her cohorts were appearing out of a recently cast illusion spell. While Joryn cast a spell to detect life he gave a split second thought to look for the spell caster responsible for the illusion. That would at least be most helpful to his companions. But Joryn never considered himself a helpful sort, and at least wanted to take care of the burly Redguard who had his eyes on him before moving on.

The captain had ordered the guards to stay either side of the caravan. Even with Joryn’s detect life, it was plain enough that the attack was coming from both sides. It appeared that since both an archer and spell caster were coming in Joryn’s direction they would get less of the melee. That is, if Joryn took care of the pleasant looking Redguard in due time, and being surrounded by the purple detect life blob didn’t exactly make Joryn’s task a whole lot easier.

“Nelodas, get on that caravan and see if you can at least keep their archer busy!” The captain said, and she barked a few more quick orders before they were upon them. Thankfully both guards and bandits had only one archer each, but the bandits at least doubled Joryn and the guard in numbers. The Redguard who had been charging down the hill screaming, probably thought Joryn was frozen with fear. Joryn not exactly being the imposing figure would not blame him for thinking that.

As Joryn just finished his shield spell, he had just managed to get out of the way of the Redguards massive overhead chop. The Redguard managed to clumsily imbed his two handed axe into the soft wood of the caravan’s side. Taking that to his advantage Joryn burdened the Redguard making his job of removing it much harder and buying precious seconds. He summoned forth a scamp to hopefully be of use to some of the guards on the other side of the caravan.

“Get round there and help those guards!” Joryn shouted in the scamps puny face.
Joryn imagined they weren’t expecting a scamp to come charging round the corner like a lunatic, so that would help a little. He still had to get something done with this Redguard however, who had now freed his axe and slowly made his way forward.
“You don’t look quite tired enough for me yet, allow me to help you.”
Joryn flashed a quick grin and then cast a damage fatigue spell on him. Charging down the hill along with freeing his axe and now this spell, the Redguard looked ready to collapse.

“D…d...damn you, mage!” was all he could offer before launching a clumsy attack which Joryn easily evaded. Before Joryn could choose which way he wanted to kill the Redguard, the guard captain appeared from his side and thrust her scimitar through the bandit’s ribcage. Apparently Joryn had been too preoccupied to notice she had dispatched her own attacker and was looking for more.

The archer on top of the caravan clearly had an advantage with his cover and kept the enemies archer under control, waiting for his killing shot. This left Joryn and the captain to decide who was to take care of the bandit mage. Not that there was much of a decision, clearly the captain had not finished playing close combat yet. Not that Joryn had a problem with facing off with another mage.

“Well, lets get down to it sha…” Joryn was unable to finish as the mage had loosed a lighting bolt aiming for his face. Joryn’s hair stood on end and he only managed to duck just in time. He cursed his own arrogance and readied a shock shield spell. Moving out of the way perhaps would have been a wiser move however, as he never expected the mage to take the repeat blasting approach. The bandit sent forth another lighting bolt.

Joryns vision went white for a moment and then he felt an unbelievably strong push. After being knocked a few yards back and recovering his senses, Joryn managed to shakily stand and wince off the pain. If he didn’t fight back quickly, he would learn the art of conducting multiple lighting bolts. He hastily let off a large blast of frost in the bandit mages direction. This not only returned some damage, but Joryn could get himself into a better position as the freezing aura caused the bandit mage to cover his eyes.

Deciding one ranged attack was enough, he opted to go for the better assured but more dangerous approach. Moving as fast as he could towards the temporarily crippled enemy, his used the hand movements to cast a fire spell. With both hands aflame and outstretched he thrust them towards the mages chest. Unprepared it was the bandits turn to be knocked back. Only this time he wouldn’t be getting up. The spell left only a large scorch mark across his chest, which was slowly smoking.

Thankfully, Nelodas had not only kept the archer busy but managed to dispatch him without letting him cause Joryn serious any trouble. As he hopped off the caravan and joined the battle on the other side of the caravan Joryn ran round the corner. They immediately saw the rest of the guards hadn’t fared as well as themselves. Two of them were down, along with four bandits. The captain and two others were busy fighting off the remaining six bandits. Although it appeared the captain was more than just skilled with her scimitar, she had managed to engage two, and was easily holding both at bay.

Joryn could only assume his Scamp had been attacked and banished, so to aid the guards he called forth his ancestor ghost. Nelodas also took aim on one of the others. With the tables turned, one of the captain’s attackers fled the battle. Distracted by his companion’s cowardice, the other bandit let his guard down for only a moment, allowing the captain to deliver a quick killing stroke. One of the other remaining bandits screamed as Joryn’s ghost stretched forth its arms, and enveloped the bandits in an aura of cold.

With one bandit dispatched by Nelodas’s wicked bow, and the other in the ancestors embrace, the last two reviewed their chances. Having obviously no wish to die, they fled. Joryn turned to the remaining guards. Nelodas put the bandit who was attacked by the ghost out his misery. The battle was over.
“We do not give chase? We should kill the worms!” Joryn exclaimed, with fire in his eyes. They did not listen however, and were busy making their way towards the fallen with grim countenance.

Nice battle... I like how it all went down... mage vs. mage... archer vs. archer... this was truly an excelent update and I hope you keep them coming...

Kudos Joryn... Kudos

heh heh heh... serious fight! I wonder what will happen next..,?

By the way DarkHunter I also think Joryn might have something for the guard captain... I think Joryn wants to get physical with her if you know what I mean... alright... gigidy... gigidy...

*giggle* I think he's a little... attracted

Nice battle! I think I'm falling in love with Joryn.

I know that at first you were nervous about writing. But, you have nothing to be nervous about. The story is great. I'm looking forward to more updates!

Here is another update. And by the way, I took into account the idea of Joryn getting......"Friendly" with the captain. Well just have to see how it works out though.

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At the recently attacked caravan.

Examining the result of the battle was not a pleasant site. Bodies were strewn across the surrounding area, but were mostly bandit corpses as the remaining guards were tending to the two of their own who had fallen during the battle. Also some of the caravan’s contents had been damaged and littered the area, no longer of any use other than to show what had transpired today. Joryn was having a little trouble breathing, evidently from the lightning bolt that had struck him in the chest during the battle.

He placed both hands on his chest and began to murmur silently to himself. As he spoke the incantations a gentle coolness washed over him, healing his internal and external wounds. Unfortunately he was no tailor and he knew no spells that were of any use on his slightly scorched and smoky robes.
“My robes? Curse you brigand to a thousand tortures in the depths of Oblivion!”
Joryn had put some hours of enchanting into his robe when he created, and clearly would be unable to create another while on a trip such as this.

“Joryn! Come quickly, Fervon is alive and needs restorative magics!”
Evidently one of the guards was not as dead as Joryn had surmised. He trotted over where the guards had crowded around the downed man and were comforting him. Fervon had taken a rather nasty gash across the chest during the fighting, and his face was as pale as a Dunmer’s face could be. He was barely conscious and looked delirious, but it appeared he was in no immediate danger of dying.

“You are skilled in healing, yes? I saw you moments ago heal yourself!” The captain asked desperately. True enough, restoration may not have been Joryn’s speciality, but a Telvanni was never uncomfortable with any school or type of magic. Joryn placed his chin in his hand, and regarded the downed man with his deep red eyes.
“Yes, it appears his wound, while nasty, is not beyond my skills.”
Wasting no more time he formed his hands into the correct movements for the spell.

The familiar cool air and tingling sensation settled onto the group, and Joryn’s hand began to glow a soft blue colour. He gently placed his palm in the middle of the guard’s chest, right across the middle of the gash. Fervon winced for a moment, but his cut slowly sealed in front of their eyes and the colour slowly began to return to his face. They all let out a sigh of relief for Fervon, all but Joryn. His face was filled with neither pride nor arrogance. It was instead scrunched up as he regarded his hand, covered in Fervon’s blood. He patted the guard next to him on the shoulder, transferring most of the blood onto his mail shirt.

“Good work Joryn, but Galrys had no such luck. Poor guy was dead the moment he was struck.”
“Never the less, we appreciate your efforts.” The captain added, with a look of gratitude across her face. Joryn only smiled and bowed his head slowly. After a few minutes, they had collected themselves and begun to search for a spot to bury Galrys. They were surprised when Joryn offered his aid, but his methods were not entirely selfless. He spotted the fact that the guards had now taken to him, and the opportunity of paying for trip through his aid alone presented itself.

Surprisingly, they did not object to Joryn summoning another scamp to help dig. The thing stank for sure, but the time saved digging paid for it. As the guards were offering their good byes, to what seemed a well acquainted companion, Joryn sat with the caravan. He preferred to avoid such personal, and what he considered awkward, situations. Afterwards, they salvaged what they could that had been damaged and set the caravan moving again. They gladly left the bandits to rot where they lay.

Joryn noted that none of the guards seemed particularly effected by what happened. But it was a dangerous business, and they were good at what they did. He also discovered from the scattered bits of talk, that they were all fairly good friends and worked together often. The “captain” as Joryn had repeatedly labelled her, was the leader of the group. It appeared that they rest of the guys had a great deal of respect for her skills and judgement.

Joryn had heard the “captains” name thrown around on occasion, but he certainly preferred the idea of asking for it.
“So, since you’re the group leader here, would you care to tell me your name? Or is it just ma’am, ma’am?”
“My name is Volenu, but your attempts to get us better “acquainted” are wasted” She said, and flashed Joryn a wicked grin.
“Then, I am not to be your toy boy? Why, I am devastated!” Joryn then put his hand over his heart and did his best at looking heartbroken, much to Volenu’s amusement.

Perhaps to the races of men, the thought flirting with women a few hundred years older than them would seem outrageous. While Joryn never considered himself a ladies man, he certainly wanted to take advantage of his youth while he could. And it appeared that it was not just Dunmer women his own age who found his slightly odd manner and charm enjoyable.

Joryn, distracted by his new found lady friend hadn’t noticed that Cyrodiil was now visible on the late daytime horizon. After much hassle it seemed he was finally a step closer to what he had set out for. Joryn had certainly learnt one thing so far. He could never of imagined that his mission would be like this, and good or bad, it was certainly going to be very interesting.

I read your update at school!

Joryn is my hero! *swoons*

Heh heh heh, good ol' Telvanni charm... what? Oh, right I'm a Hlaalu...

Telvanni ftw though.

Wow Joryn, I didn't know you had a talent for writing. Your specialty seems to be dialogue, very well done and interesting thus far. Looking forward to future updates.

You tell them Kayla... if I lived in morrowind I can clearly see myself as a Telvanni battle mage... long live house Telvanni!!!

Another update here. I was thinking the other day that my story clearly does not flow as well, or is nearly as descriptive as the other fan fictions on here. Still I hope you enjoy it all the same.

---

On the road to Cheydinhal.

The remaining hours entering Cryodiil passed quickly enough. Joryn had put it down to the now talkative Volenu, who no longer treated him like a child or some stranger along for the ride (although he was to start with). The once wounded guard was also doing well. Although he had started out the trip on the back of the caravan, Fervon eventually found his strength again and took up his place in line. He also shared the odd word with Nelodas, and while he was a quiet sort, Joryn had respect for his talent as an archer.

It struck him as odd that once he reached Cheydinal he would split off from this group and might never encounter them again. It occurred to him what an annoyance that was. He was never popular with most folks; with only a few people he could call his friends. Yet here, in the short time he spent with this group he could not bring himself to call them anything other than his friends. Obviously Volenu meant a little more to him than the rest, being the only female of the group after all. This caused Joryn to chuckle to himself, attracting Volenu’s attention.

“Whats funny?” she asked, with that smile Joryn was only just getting to grips with.
“Oh nothing, I was just thinking what a shame it will be when we finally part ways.”
She raised an eyebrow, obviously seeing there was a little more to it than that.
“Are you certain?” She added quietly “I saw you staring again, it seems you might have a problem keeping your eyes off me?”
“Ah, I see your game now. Despite your skill and devotion to the job in hand, you still enjoy playing with my feelings towards women I see. Well it seems my best efforts are not enough to stop my heart from being your plaything.”

Apparently, Joryn’s pouting was once again amusing Volenu, and she unconsciously was twirling a slender finger through her long white hair. Joryn never quite understood how even women who made battle their profession, could still show that womanly charm when they wanted to. His thoughts on the matter were interrupted however; as the seemingly keen eared Nelodas had heard their flirting from the back of the line. “Perhaps you two could save that business for when we finally reach Cheydinhal and you have rented a room!”

This brought some snickers from the rest of the guard, and Joryn looked away slightly embarrassed, but still smiling. “That doesn’t sound like such a bad idea” Volenu whispered, perhaps to herself, never the less Joryn heard it. She then smiled from ear to ear as she saw him turn slightly red. It appeared despite his occasional smart alec attitude, there was still a little of that shy Dunmer orphan in him. Joryn was certainly surprised at how little hassle the guards gave him for his apparent “friendship” with Volenu. They certainly had a brother-sister thing going on with her, and Joryn was surprised how little her now girlish attitude resembled the leading figure she was but half a day ago.

It was getting into night time when they finally reached the gates of Cheydinhal, and it appeared Newlands lodge was where they were next headed. It appeared they had already decided that Joryn was to accompany them to celebrate, and to lift their cups to their friend who was no longer with them. While Joryn was planning on getting to work on the amulet right away, the caravan was to wait until morning, so he decided his business should also.

After making themselves comfortable and ordering a few rounds, they proposed a toast to their friend Galrys. The respectful silence only lasted a few moments, as they believed they should enjoy themselves in memory of their friend. Joryn was not interested in intoxicating himself however. He thought that if he was going to share such pleasurable company as Volenu, he would at least want to remember it the morning after.

As the other tavern patrons drank themselves into a stupor, Joryn and Volenu quietly entertained themselves in the corner. After a few hours, when they decided they had done talking, and everyone else decided they could drink no more, they made their way to bed. Joryn rarely studied people’s features much; only on occasions such as this did it truly matter to him. He found himself drawn to Volenu’s long white hair once again, hanging down past her shoulders.

As he fell in behind her as they made their way up the stairs, he found his gaze dropping. Her hair was nice enough, but he had found something much more enjoyable to look at, with her trim figure. When they finally made it to the door, she turned and looked as if to assure him to follow. With a grin on his face, he paused a moment too look down each end of the corridor. Slowly Joryn followed her in and closed the door quietly behind him.

---

I apologize if this was not as risque as you deserve. I was worried that if I wrote something a little too smutty I would get nailed for it. Anyway, I hoped you liked it.

Edit: I also would like to apologize if Volenu seemed a little Drow like. My only excuse for this is because I think Drow rule.

*Giggle* heh heh heh... Who said Dumner couldn't... I'll stop there...

Good Writing Joryn, my question is: What next

Alright... I like where this is going... by the way good job Joryn... I also think that the you have great discriptive writing... actually one of the best here in this forum... anyways

Kudos Joryn... Kudos

Newlands lodge in Cheydinhal.

Joryn slowly opened one eye, having trouble remembering where he was exactly. The unfamiliarity of his surrounding only lasted for a moment. He now remembered clearly the night before, and turned to look at the other side of the bed. There was only a note. Joryn chuckled to himself, as the last thing he thought about before drifting off the night before, was waking up to this. He picked up the note and had a look over it.

Dear Joryn

I want to thank you for your assistance in helping us reach Cheydinhal, among other things. Unfortunately, I cannot thank you in person as we were to depart early this morning. There is other business in Cyrodiil that draws us. I’m sure you understand. If you are concerned about your debt to us, worry not. As you no doubt guessed your aid to us on the way more than paid for your passage with us. I shall keep my eyes open should we run into each other in our travels. With love from your friend and a little something more than that.

Volenu.

Joryn rolled his eyes and tossed the note setting it alight with a small spell, he watched it burn out before it got to the floor. Not that he was particularly upset by the note; he just knew that citizens of Tamriel had a habit of leaving personal notes where they didn’t belong. After bathing, which he could handle surprisingly quickly with his magical talents warming the water, Joryn dressed in his usual robes and made his way downstairs. He was going to approach the owner Dervera Romalen and ask about paying, but as soon as he opened his mouth she beat him to it.

“Your friends took care of any of the bills.” She suddenly started to smile and then added “Must have been quite a night you two had.” Joryn wasn’t quite sure what to say after that. The best he could do was head for the door and give Dervera a sly wink on the way out. After stepping through the door, the first thing Joryn noticed was that it was raining. He closed his eyes and let the cool raindrops splash off his face. A town guard nearby shook his head, the rain adding to the guard’s no doubt usual sour mood.

He had a quick look around the streets but caught his own reflection in the Newlands lodge window. It suddenly occurred to him how little he looked at himself in the mirror, or in any way at all. Joryn look at his shiny long black hair hanging down the back of his neck, and his deep red eyes. Much deeper than the norm for Dunmer, almost as if they were just pure red orbs. He then slowly ran his hand down his cheek, feeling the stubble that he grown over the past few days.

Someone passing him on the street brought him back to reality. He should already have been underway by, searching for anyone who might posses any information on Ayleid artefacts in the region. Joryn then spotted Mach Na’s books across the street. If they were anything akin to Morrowind’s bookstores, they would prove to best most helpful

He stepped inside, dripping slightly from day dreaming in the heavy rain. An Argonian female, who Joryn surmised was this Mach Na the owner, gave him odd look. He thought it was almost as if she had decided she wasn’t going to like Joryn, just by looking. He slowly made his was across the room trying to look pleasant.
“Whaddya want? I got things to do Dunmer.” Quite the miserable cur, Joryn thought.
“Certainly the merchants welcome I would expect from the land of con men.” Joryn said this politely, even though it did not suit the words, something that appeared to get on most peoples nerves.

“I don’t run this shop to trade jabs with strangers, tell me if there is something you want and let’s get it over with.” Joryn certainly didn’t have a problem with that.
“I here looking for information on Ay-.” He was cut short before he could finish off.
“Yes, yes, I’ve been through all this before. You want books on Ayleid’s, I got them, Ill go get them and sell them, everybody is happy.” As she left the room Joryn only sighed and shook his head. It seemed he was now paying for the fun he had with Volenu last night.

The Argonian came back with about three books, pretty think ones too. He prepared himself for the next part, which he was sure he wasn’t going to like.
“That’s 195 septims.” Joryn winced slightly as the Argonian muttered the price. He wasnt about to try for a lower price however. You could squeeze blood out of a stone easier than strike a bargain with an Imperial. At least that’s what Joryn was brought up to believe, and he certainly didn’t doubt it so far. Leaving his thanks and his coin he headed for the door, and none too soon Joryn thought to himself.

Ouch... that must have hurt... falling from the sky and landing on you head like that... o well... I'm sure that Joryn can bounce back up no matter what.

Heh heh heh... Telvanni always getting ripped off... I mean....

On the streets of Cheydinhal.

Joryn sat at a table back in Newlands lodge. His recently purchased books lay aside a few empty mugs he had downed. From reading through little bits of them, he had uncovered a few ideas along with some names of those who might be able to help. Not exactly a jackpot, but as far as things were, it was still early days. Perhaps he could arrange to see a few mages guild people at the arcane university. Although there was a local guild that he could pass word on to, Joryn wanted to wait a little first.

It seemed odd that Aryon wanted Joryn to cooperate with the mages guild. It was most likely done so that the fuss would be kept to a minimum, and so that the Telvanni would have no problems with whom the amulet truly belonged to, if and when it was discovered. Joryn mused over the prospect of not letting them now who he was and what he was up to in Cyrodiil. But the thought only lasted a moment.

What little he knew of current events, he at least knew the mages guild was on edge with its problem with necromancers. No, he would go to the university and sort out his business there first. With any luck there wouldn’t be any fuss about this business, even though the place appeared like a jumped up magic school to Joryn. He opened up the book to a page he had found earlier and marked, that had yielded some of the better results.

Apparently his earlier thoughts on the amulet were not quite correct. It was called the amulet of Ayleid mastery, apparently. It was told to be a potent tool with connections into the realm and denizens of Oblivion. While Joryn had made that assumption already due to the Ayleid history with Daedra, it appeared he aimed slightly lower from the mark. Strange Joryn hadn’t seen this coming, and while he respected Aryon, he did however retain some of the older Telvanni aspects.

In this case he had not properly explained the potential of the power the amulet had within it. Joryn was not put off however, things certainly could have been worse. He had no real threat from any major enemies at this time; also Aryon had said something about sending him some Telvanni aid. Anyway, now was as good a time as any to make some contacts. The Imperial city would be his first start, with it looking to be the most fruitful.

As he finished off his last mug and slapped down a few coins for Dervera, he headed out with a nod and smile in her direction, she returned the gesture. With his books tucked into his robe, stored magically and no longer visible he shifted as his robe was becoming heavier with the books newly added weight. The rain was weaker than earlier in the day, and Joryn was enjoying the cool, moist air.

The road lay out in front of Joryn and not long passing through the gates he had to admire the fine bred horses for sale. Not cheap for sure, but nary a better quality horse could be found. Joryn absorbed the scenery around him, and admired the beauty of this part of Cyrodiil. His residence was in the Grazelands of Vvardenfell and he already had an appreciation for greenery, but was still impressed none the less. The time went by quickly and Joryn could clearly make out the Imperial city in the distance.

However Joryn’s attention was soon drawn elsewhere, as he could hear the trickling of water off the main road. Curious to see if he could find anything of interest, he made his way towards the noise. With only a few moments walk Joryn found a nice little area of water with a small waterfall around some rocks. He stooped to take a few sips of the clean water, and splash his face. Before he could finish however, he heard armoured footsteps on grass approaching. Looking to the right of his own reflection he could make out two blurred figures. He turned around to see an Imperial and Ork, who to his astonishment were wearing Imperial legion armour.

“Nice day for a stroll ash-born?” the Ork said, in a rather sinister tone.
“Perhaps.” Joryn said warily “Would you mind my asking if that armour is yours, or stolen from an unfortunate Legion officer?” Joryn sighed inside, for he already knew what was coming. They both looked at each other and let out a slow chuckle.
“Oh these? Worry not, they are our own for sure.” The Imperial smiled, showing a missing tooth. An pasty and skinny fellow to be sure. And ugly Joryn added.

Joryn had only just noticed that another Legion officer was creeping up on him. When he turned it appeared he was a Breton and worse, was only a few steps behind him. Joryn waited only a moment before the no doubt corrupt Legion officers stated their demands.
“These are dangerous times friend, perhaps we can be convinced to escort you safely to wherever you are going. All we would ask as payment is……”

The guards again looked at each other, although Joryn knew damn well they had planned this through to the letter.
“Everything you own? Yes that would seem fair. Now be a good citizen and pay up for the friendly officers why don’t you?” The Imperial held out his hands and rubbed his fingers together, a gesture Joryn found extremely aggravating.
“Ahh, well you see I have a little problem, and that is….” Joryn never meant to finish the sentence, he had prepared a spell hoping to take the Breton behind by surprise.

With his right hand covered in flames Joryn spun on his heels and backhanded the officer in the face. He let out a shriek and covered the right side of his face with both hands. Unfortunately, his assailants were quick and before Joryn could plan his next move he was whacked over the back of the head with the blunt side of a long sword.

A Breton... He has magic too, usually...
Uh oh, the hero's down! Ah, I see where this is going...

You do?... cause I dont... and I would like to add "OUCH"... by the way thank god that isn't the real world... where they chop of your fingers or a ear and sending it to your family expectiong for money... because my family does not have any money what so ever and I would have been definently screwed... but thank god Joryn does not have to go through that... or does he?...