Hello.
Most likely don't know me but I have this habit where I write something, take a needlessly-long break, then come back and continue it, expecting everyone to still understand what's going on. Anyway, I wrote 3 fanfics about Gaenor that originated on the official TES forums, then migrated here for some reason. Now, having had my fill of annoying elf-related stories, I began something new that I want to continue, and the only way I'll do that is if I post it and people are interested enough to want more.
It might be in bad taste to request something from the potential readers of this new story, but it's only fair; if you read this and think that something doesn't flow or could be improved upon (not content, but structure), I would greatly appreciate any and all criticism you have.. please, don't hold back. If what you want to say seems like it shouldn't be displayed on this thread, send me a PM. I'll never get better if I don't get criticism, and I want to get better. Then again, you don't have to say anything at all.
Sorry for the long introduction. Here's to what I hope will be a fun fanfic for all!
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The Meaning of Life
There was no more to be said. I stood and took my leave of the Meeting tent, the heavy iron plating my legs disturbing awkwardly the peace of night in the encampment. We'd been discussing the threat from the Jeralls for hours after eating, and the sun's light crept above the mountainous horizon with foreboding quickness. I fixed my eyes to the dirt and felt my mouth droop to a frown. It had been decided and set for me to settle this restless darkness of yet-unknown depth, as I'd proven myself in years past as formidable with the axe and shield when confronted with those who would wish life torn from body for purpose of self gain. In six hours I would depart in fresh snow, and my destiny would arrive at last to the fruitful conclusion of its long hunt.
It was difficult sleeping, not with the cold but with thoughts my young mind failed to silence. I gave empty answers to questions no one could satisfy, and they all reminded me of how unprepared I truly was for the looming hardships yet to be crossed, patient in their undoubted fatality. My muscles tensed of their own will, perhaps reacting to the subtle worries building in my subconscious, for I tried with all concentration to banish them there so that I may have focused on less frightening prospects. I hushed the quiet candle beside me and remembered Grumir's words.
"I'll have these ready before ye set off, and leave 'em outside yer tent. I've worked overnight plenty before, and the clangin' don't seem to bother no one!"
I knew him long, since I was old enough to wield a weapon and bring it back to him for repair. I've never known his face without it tilting down, something he did both to playfully mock my considerably shorter stature and because he honestly was unable to see me unless he did so. Each time he did it, and it was every time he spoke to me, even when we sat and our eyes were level, I couldn't help but let out a short chuckle of mild disbelief. He never seemed to notice, which was not surprising. In his more drunken episodes in the evenings, he'd ramble on about his adventures in Elswyr when he was younger, and of the "filth-ridden coat-bags" he'd slain. I took no offense, largely because I could never figure out what exactly a "coat-bag" was and why it was an insult to my people, according to Grumir. In his sober heart however, he grew to appreciate my presence, as out-of-place as it always seemed to me.
Despite my physical appearance, the shear amount of time I spent with these people led them to accept me as one of their own, which I always was, in essence. I am unsure as to who my parents are, or were, but I am Khajiit for certain. I've seen others rarely during hunting raids and sojournings into the Imperial City for trade, and after comparing looks, I began to develop a mindset for my race. We are Khajiit, or at least they are. I am Khajiit to those who see me; those who know me would think twice. The Nords in my encampment knew me very well, and respected me as a warrior and friend. Although, the physical differences were impossible to ignore. Their armor had no ear holes, and my feet refused to stuff themselves into their thin-toed boots. Their chairs forced me to curl my tail into my lap in a most uncomfortable position, and I often contemplated eating on the floor, but always dismissed the idea as I feared being related to a house cat in the most humiliating way apart from relieving myself in a box of sand.
Trivialities aside, I lived in their encampment all my life, since being left naked in the cold twenty years ago outside the ancient hut of our chieftan, who has now passed. They cared for me and trained me in the combat arts of Skyrim, and I adapted my agile form to master new techniques which set me apart from the other boys. I became most proficient with the axe, and later, learned to balance offense with the defense of a shield. Seven years littered with exploits deemed heroic by those they aimed to benefit have birthed a fine fighter, in my humble opinion, and I attempted to direct the memories of my greatest victories as a stampede over thoughts of the task that lay before me. It was pointless; even looking in the direction of the cave I was to enter discouraged my steps, and my knees weakened. All I could do now was tie the blindfold of courage around my eyes and pray the little sleep I did manage would be enough to carry me back there the next day in triumph.
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Full Version: The Meaning of Life
Wow, you certainly have a way with words ShraX. Though that second sentence seemed to be a bit of a mouthful when I read it, particulary the "iron plating my legs disturbing awkwardly..." part. Other than that I thought this introduction was flawless. This unnamed Khajiit raised by Nords is an intriguing concept. You've introduced him quite well.
I would certainly keep reading if you decide to keep updating.
I would certainly keep reading if you decide to keep updating.
Took me a while to get used to the phrasing- but it fits with Khajiit thought-patterns.
I was pleasantly surprised to see find your new story, ShraX. The tales of Gaenor have a very special place in my heart, and I'm excited to see that you've started something new. We haven't had that many stories about the Khajiit, perhaps because most of us really don't think like a bipedal feline. I really enjoyed the subtle yet effective ways in which you've already shown how different the Khajiit is from the the Nords. I expect we will see a lot of this in the coming installments.
It is clear that you have thought carefully about your word choice, and you have organized your sentences in an unusual, but refreshing way. However, there were a couple sentences that ended up being a bit long (e.g. Their chairs forced me to curl....). A major advantage of written works is the ability to use far more complex sentence structure than one could ever use in conversation, but I think it may still be prudent not to make sentences longer than they need to be.
I assume that the use of unusual grammatical structure was intentional. Perhaps this was intended to reflect either a difference in how Khajiits process language or perhaps unique to this Khajiit? As Treydog said, sometimes the sentence structure took a little longer to understand, but perhaps, as he suggested, this is appropriate.
Now for my request to you, ShraX: please continue this story. Your return to the forums (as an author) has brought joy to my heart.
It is clear that you have thought carefully about your word choice, and you have organized your sentences in an unusual, but refreshing way. However, there were a couple sentences that ended up being a bit long (e.g. Their chairs forced me to curl....). A major advantage of written works is the ability to use far more complex sentence structure than one could ever use in conversation, but I think it may still be prudent not to make sentences longer than they need to be.
I assume that the use of unusual grammatical structure was intentional. Perhaps this was intended to reflect either a difference in how Khajiits process language or perhaps unique to this Khajiit? As Treydog said, sometimes the sentence structure took a little longer to understand, but perhaps, as he suggested, this is appropriate.
Now for my request to you, ShraX: please continue this story. Your return to the forums (as an author) has brought joy to my heart.
The flurries untied my tent's base and awoke me in mid-dream. I can't remember about it, but the end stuck to my mind: I saw myself dressed by invisible hands in a hooded cloak. The only colors I was able to see were shades of red and grey. I heard a man's voice speak in a strange tongue, unlike any I've heard.. not that I've heard very many at all, but this seemed otherworldly. It sounded as if he was upset over something, or he was giving a command. When he stopped, all turned to darkness but a ring of light at my feet, the hood closed over my head, and I woke. I know there was more before this, but it I could never recall.
I stumbled to all fours and crawled from my bed to meet the clouded morning. I stretched and my muscles welcomed the pain, and I noticed my axe and shield waiting at my feet. I looked up towards Grumir's tent but he was likely still asleep after working last night. I slipped the axe into my belt and the shield on my back, and let the cold air breeze through my fur. I watched the far mist frozen in distance and thought on my dream. I couldn't reason any of it, at least not yet. I noted the Nords' belief in dreams as omens, and the image of the cave reflected from the back of my mind and into my eyes. I closed them hard and hunger caught my attention.
Bread and cheese worked well enough to fill my stomach; meat never agreed with me in the mornings. I tucked a short bottle of fresh water into my belt and strapped it tightly across, and left the food storage tent. No one but the dawn-time watch guard stood outside, and the campfire had blown out with the rough winds. He stood at the far end, and I to the north. I watched him for too long, and there was no reason for it save the subconscious want to stall my quest. I shook my head vigorously and broke the desperate stupor, telling myself that no one was awake to wish me well. It was an odd departure, since I had created this wild thought that I'd be bid a hero's farewell in some non-existent celebratory fashion. I set my eyes to the cave clear up against the mountainside and began at last. It took but a short while to reach its mouth, and I stopped to look back across the familiar country, brightest sunlight now basking whitest snow. I sighed heavily and felt the winds again, coming from within the cavern. Storm clouds slid over the sun, and I thought of my family's welfare before turning back toward the cold hell awaiting me.
I pulled out my axe and shield, keeping eyes and ears to the walls. I tried ignoring the blackness ahead which seemed closer to me than empty space should be, and I asked myself whether or not it was empty, not expecting an answer. I stepped into it as it was the only path to take, and the shadow sealed my vision of the growing storm outside more quickly than I could notice. I advanced in darkness, and decided my weapon and armor were useless in such a place. "What dwells herein, take me.." I whispered hopelessly, and the pitch black enveloping me muffled the sound to even my hearing. I continued on for what felt to be somewhat less than an hour when I reached a wall; I felt on all sides and determined I'd reached a dead end. 'Perhaps my enemy has left to hunt,' I thought, and I heard someone speak. The sound rang clear from within the dense shadows, as if they carried his message directly to me.
"Forsaken I've sat dead for twenty years, and at last you've come. Vision returns.. light nor dark find sanctuary here."
Immediately I thought of the voice from my dream, but it was difficult to compare them. As he said, the blackness dissipated before me and I found myself standing in the center of a narrow, frozen walkway leading to a grand throne of ice. The room in which I now stood was enormous, larger than even the mountain seemed to be from the outside.
"Set your form closer so as not to confuse our situation."
"Confuse our situation?" I yelled while advancing half-crouched to accommodate for the dizzying height.
He kept silent until I reached the platform on which the throne laid set and carved in the thick ice. All I could see of him was the black cloak he wore, and his hood which masked any hint of his visage. He sat slumped and seemingly weary upon it, and adjusted himself upright and in a kingly manner as I approached.
"You are accustomed to common speech at a common distance. I do not seek to create a yet stranger atmosphere from one already foreign." His voice was low and cracked, and reminded me of our wooden tent posts, creaking subtley with the fierce winds. I had questions, but felt he had more to say.
"I knew not of your coming, but see now it holds significance. All things hold significance. Tell me your name."
"Ri'jzirr," I answered in caution.
"Khajiit of Tamriel." His head shifted downward in apparent thought. "You require an explanation. I will relay the past unknown to you in words you may comprehend."
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I stumbled to all fours and crawled from my bed to meet the clouded morning. I stretched and my muscles welcomed the pain, and I noticed my axe and shield waiting at my feet. I looked up towards Grumir's tent but he was likely still asleep after working last night. I slipped the axe into my belt and the shield on my back, and let the cold air breeze through my fur. I watched the far mist frozen in distance and thought on my dream. I couldn't reason any of it, at least not yet. I noted the Nords' belief in dreams as omens, and the image of the cave reflected from the back of my mind and into my eyes. I closed them hard and hunger caught my attention.
Bread and cheese worked well enough to fill my stomach; meat never agreed with me in the mornings. I tucked a short bottle of fresh water into my belt and strapped it tightly across, and left the food storage tent. No one but the dawn-time watch guard stood outside, and the campfire had blown out with the rough winds. He stood at the far end, and I to the north. I watched him for too long, and there was no reason for it save the subconscious want to stall my quest. I shook my head vigorously and broke the desperate stupor, telling myself that no one was awake to wish me well. It was an odd departure, since I had created this wild thought that I'd be bid a hero's farewell in some non-existent celebratory fashion. I set my eyes to the cave clear up against the mountainside and began at last. It took but a short while to reach its mouth, and I stopped to look back across the familiar country, brightest sunlight now basking whitest snow. I sighed heavily and felt the winds again, coming from within the cavern. Storm clouds slid over the sun, and I thought of my family's welfare before turning back toward the cold hell awaiting me.
I pulled out my axe and shield, keeping eyes and ears to the walls. I tried ignoring the blackness ahead which seemed closer to me than empty space should be, and I asked myself whether or not it was empty, not expecting an answer. I stepped into it as it was the only path to take, and the shadow sealed my vision of the growing storm outside more quickly than I could notice. I advanced in darkness, and decided my weapon and armor were useless in such a place. "What dwells herein, take me.." I whispered hopelessly, and the pitch black enveloping me muffled the sound to even my hearing. I continued on for what felt to be somewhat less than an hour when I reached a wall; I felt on all sides and determined I'd reached a dead end. 'Perhaps my enemy has left to hunt,' I thought, and I heard someone speak. The sound rang clear from within the dense shadows, as if they carried his message directly to me.
"Forsaken I've sat dead for twenty years, and at last you've come. Vision returns.. light nor dark find sanctuary here."
Immediately I thought of the voice from my dream, but it was difficult to compare them. As he said, the blackness dissipated before me and I found myself standing in the center of a narrow, frozen walkway leading to a grand throne of ice. The room in which I now stood was enormous, larger than even the mountain seemed to be from the outside.
"Set your form closer so as not to confuse our situation."
"Confuse our situation?" I yelled while advancing half-crouched to accommodate for the dizzying height.
He kept silent until I reached the platform on which the throne laid set and carved in the thick ice. All I could see of him was the black cloak he wore, and his hood which masked any hint of his visage. He sat slumped and seemingly weary upon it, and adjusted himself upright and in a kingly manner as I approached.
"You are accustomed to common speech at a common distance. I do not seek to create a yet stranger atmosphere from one already foreign." His voice was low and cracked, and reminded me of our wooden tent posts, creaking subtley with the fierce winds. I had questions, but felt he had more to say.
"I knew not of your coming, but see now it holds significance. All things hold significance. Tell me your name."
"Ri'jzirr," I answered in caution.
"Khajiit of Tamriel." His head shifted downward in apparent thought. "You require an explanation. I will relay the past unknown to you in words you may comprehend."
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I want to know as well! Don't leave me hanging here!
Your use of language is spectacular, it's actually refreshing to see your approach, it tends to make one focus more. This hooded figure's language particularly is rather cryptic but cool.
I look forward to more.
Your use of language is spectacular, it's actually refreshing to see your approach, it tends to make one focus more. This hooded figure's language particularly is rather cryptic but cool.
I look forward to more.
This new update has really increased the mystery surrounding this character. This cave sounds like an intriguing place, even more so because of the mysterious man on the throne. I look forward to finding out more.
"Firstly, I would have you know of me.. physicality is often the blackest blindfold. Though bipedal in appearance, I stand not on legs. This cowl hides naught but shadow. I have no place. What you see is what you will, uncontrollable. I say without speaking, move without motion. I am not, yet I sit before you in belief. In senses I reside.
"From where I originated I will attempt to explain. Understand life as nothing more than the tangible essence of existence. All things contain life. In turn, all things must retain balance, for life is never without death. All things must die, and it is for this reason I have taken up residence on this plane. I have broken the laws of being to mend them. Existence is threatened by one it calls its' own.
"She has refused death. The physical constitution of her race shows a regular pattern of death by age; eighty-seven years. Nine-thousand she has lived through neither magic nor natural reason. It is unclear, and I suspect nothing. Such gross misuse of the gift of life will remain uninterrupted no longer. I have come to end it by any means necessary."
He took no breaths between sentences, and he showed no emotion or change in tone with his words, but I felt them stronger than any I'd heard. He stood slowly, sleeves concealing any notion of skin as they collapsed at his sides. I had heard all the peoples of Tamriel speak at one time or another, but I was unable to match them to this man. Something was telling me it was a man, anyway. Popular reference to gender forces me still to speak of the being as "he", but I'll never be certain.
"I doubt not your courage, but fear has no place here. Forgive my inability to acquaint myself.. it is not possible without personality or a face." A short chuckle escaped my mouth and I prayed he took no offense, and he said nothing. "Please," I replied warily, "it is difficult to understand your story. I came here in search of the beast named enemy by my people, and to slay it for our better." I had reached the base of his throne and he stepped closer, but I held my ground. If he spoke truth, I would be safer displaying trust over distrust. He had no smell, and he seemed immune to the freezing cold which held the cavern. He turned slightly to his left and my eyes followed.
"See there," he said, "the cleft." He paused, and I examined the icy ledge he motioned towards. It was heavily laiden with bones and sinew from what appeared to be some enormous creature. The remaining ribs on its spine cast deep shadows on the narrow bridge I'd just crossed, and they hung what seemed to be a mile away in the hollowed mountain. Its skull had been halved, and from the thick ice collected there, I posed to myself how many years it had been, and who had slain such a monster. "'Twas no monster, Ri'jzirr," he replied to my thoughts. "You are not yet experienced enough in this world to seal your mind shut.. something that aids our situation. The skeleton was of that which you came here to slay." I looked back to the cloaked figure in astounded confusion and hidden relief.
"You will find that all things in your history have played their part in our meeting. This confrontation is the meaning of life."
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"From where I originated I will attempt to explain. Understand life as nothing more than the tangible essence of existence. All things contain life. In turn, all things must retain balance, for life is never without death. All things must die, and it is for this reason I have taken up residence on this plane. I have broken the laws of being to mend them. Existence is threatened by one it calls its' own.
"She has refused death. The physical constitution of her race shows a regular pattern of death by age; eighty-seven years. Nine-thousand she has lived through neither magic nor natural reason. It is unclear, and I suspect nothing. Such gross misuse of the gift of life will remain uninterrupted no longer. I have come to end it by any means necessary."
He took no breaths between sentences, and he showed no emotion or change in tone with his words, but I felt them stronger than any I'd heard. He stood slowly, sleeves concealing any notion of skin as they collapsed at his sides. I had heard all the peoples of Tamriel speak at one time or another, but I was unable to match them to this man. Something was telling me it was a man, anyway. Popular reference to gender forces me still to speak of the being as "he", but I'll never be certain.
"I doubt not your courage, but fear has no place here. Forgive my inability to acquaint myself.. it is not possible without personality or a face." A short chuckle escaped my mouth and I prayed he took no offense, and he said nothing. "Please," I replied warily, "it is difficult to understand your story. I came here in search of the beast named enemy by my people, and to slay it for our better." I had reached the base of his throne and he stepped closer, but I held my ground. If he spoke truth, I would be safer displaying trust over distrust. He had no smell, and he seemed immune to the freezing cold which held the cavern. He turned slightly to his left and my eyes followed.
"See there," he said, "the cleft." He paused, and I examined the icy ledge he motioned towards. It was heavily laiden with bones and sinew from what appeared to be some enormous creature. The remaining ribs on its spine cast deep shadows on the narrow bridge I'd just crossed, and they hung what seemed to be a mile away in the hollowed mountain. Its skull had been halved, and from the thick ice collected there, I posed to myself how many years it had been, and who had slain such a monster. "'Twas no monster, Ri'jzirr," he replied to my thoughts. "You are not yet experienced enough in this world to seal your mind shut.. something that aids our situation. The skeleton was of that which you came here to slay." I looked back to the cloaked figure in astounded confusion and hidden relief.
"You will find that all things in your history have played their part in our meeting. This confrontation is the meaning of life."
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Interesting, theres a slow build-up here. And this meeting has a Matrix-esque quality of Neo meeting with the Architect.
In other words good job, yo! Keep it up!
In other words good job, yo! Keep it up!
This mysterious figure is really cool to read. I too, like the way this is slowly building up.
Keep it up!
Keep it up!
Yeah, the mystery. Who, or what is he? Why does he want to meet our hero? And just how did the damn monster got killed?
Another good story written by the famous ShraX.....who once more proved himself as being a skilled writer. Rest assured IŽll read this, even though I may not be commenting on every update, thereŽs just soo much to read around here.
Good work !!
Good work !!
"The creature thought guilty of ravaging your people has ceased to exist for approximately two hundred and forty-seven years. Its' undoer perished in the process and no proof of demise was returned to make certain its' death, and so, it has continued to live in assumption. What has been attacking your camp is she whose life must be ended.. the one of whom I previously spoke. She knows of your importance, and even now seeks your death. Lower your head." He remained emotionless in his words and I questioned to myself why I should have lowered my head.. it seemed a strange request, but this encounter was indeed the strangest I'd experienced. So, I ducked, and three poisoned arrows struck the cloaked being from behind me. My eyes widened and I spun around to catch the archer, almost losing my footing on the icy platform, but there was nothing. I looked back to the man, but not expecting a corpse. I didn't know why, but three poisoned arrows did not seem like enough to topple him. "Arrows," he said. "She thinks me human," and he waved them off into the cold darkness below with a gesture of his robed arm.
"What stopped them?" I asked, now finding comfort in his protective presence. "I've no body," he replied, "but you and the arrows share a consciousness. All things live.. they perceived a torso, and so their path laid through one." His way of speaking seemed confusing and deep, but I understood his insight. This being was one of immense wisdom, and perhaps a god. I knew he was able to read my thoughts and resist poisoned arrows. Either he was a great magician or something of celestial origin. "Nay, I was human once.. but enough of this. She has made her move, and we will react in kind. If you trust my cause, the cause of existence, you will repeat this word and await message from me in your encampment: <<^>^<^>^<>^<^>^<>^<^<>^<>><^<>," and as the final letter's sound escaped my cold lips, I found myself in the center of my camp, the storm having passed and the sun's glorious light warming my body, and the familiarity of my surroundings slowly calming my nerves.
I told the Elder of my encounter in private, figuring his counsel would prove more valuable than the questions my kin undoubtedly had for me. As I spoke he lit two candles at his side, and when I finished moments later, I noticed he'd been gazing at them throughout my report. Not a word was spoken for a short while, but I was familiar with his methods and allowed the candles to borrow my attention. At last he turned to me and replied, wisdom and experience showing in every wrinkle on his ancient face. "This man," he said in soothing quiet, "wore a black cloak and hood." I nodded, facing him now. "There are many dark cults of Tamriel, most of which are known to conceal their identities in such clothing. They believe that to be looked upon by those outside their group is an insult to their supposed superiority. Tell me, was there a symbol on his robe?" I shook my head remembering the solid black of his cloak and cowl. "Interesting," he said, and motioned politely for me to leave.
As I closed the flap to his tent, the cold of dusk reminded me of my dream. I forgot to mention it, and it would have been rude to interrupt him again so soon. There had to have been some relevance between it and my encounter in the cave; the events I saw in sleep matched so clearly to what had transpired earlier that day. The black hood was placed over my eyes, and the ring of light at my feet.. the hood was just as the man's, as was the cloak which dressed me. He turned pitch darkness to light so that I may have navigated the cavern. Perhaps the placing of a black cowl over my head was a symbol of friendship and alliance between myself and the man? The ring of light still was somewhat of a mystery to me, and I decided to explain my dream to the Elder the next day in the hopes of gaining more insight into its' full meaning.
The remainder of the night consisted mainly of re-enacting of my experience to my kin. They seemed disappointed that the beast had already been slain, and wondered aloud at what, then, had been plaguing the countryside we called home. I knew who was responsible, but telling them a nine-thousand-year old witch of some sort was their "monster" seemed it would have been too much for them to comprehend at the time, and so I joined in their hopeless pondering as we ate around the campfire. Eventually, however, the conversation had been abandoned in preference for the usual story-telling to which we were all comfortably accustomed.
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"What stopped them?" I asked, now finding comfort in his protective presence. "I've no body," he replied, "but you and the arrows share a consciousness. All things live.. they perceived a torso, and so their path laid through one." His way of speaking seemed confusing and deep, but I understood his insight. This being was one of immense wisdom, and perhaps a god. I knew he was able to read my thoughts and resist poisoned arrows. Either he was a great magician or something of celestial origin. "Nay, I was human once.. but enough of this. She has made her move, and we will react in kind. If you trust my cause, the cause of existence, you will repeat this word and await message from me in your encampment: <<^>^<^>^<>^<^>^<>^<^<>^<>><^<>," and as the final letter's sound escaped my cold lips, I found myself in the center of my camp, the storm having passed and the sun's glorious light warming my body, and the familiarity of my surroundings slowly calming my nerves.
I told the Elder of my encounter in private, figuring his counsel would prove more valuable than the questions my kin undoubtedly had for me. As I spoke he lit two candles at his side, and when I finished moments later, I noticed he'd been gazing at them throughout my report. Not a word was spoken for a short while, but I was familiar with his methods and allowed the candles to borrow my attention. At last he turned to me and replied, wisdom and experience showing in every wrinkle on his ancient face. "This man," he said in soothing quiet, "wore a black cloak and hood." I nodded, facing him now. "There are many dark cults of Tamriel, most of which are known to conceal their identities in such clothing. They believe that to be looked upon by those outside their group is an insult to their supposed superiority. Tell me, was there a symbol on his robe?" I shook my head remembering the solid black of his cloak and cowl. "Interesting," he said, and motioned politely for me to leave.
As I closed the flap to his tent, the cold of dusk reminded me of my dream. I forgot to mention it, and it would have been rude to interrupt him again so soon. There had to have been some relevance between it and my encounter in the cave; the events I saw in sleep matched so clearly to what had transpired earlier that day. The black hood was placed over my eyes, and the ring of light at my feet.. the hood was just as the man's, as was the cloak which dressed me. He turned pitch darkness to light so that I may have navigated the cavern. Perhaps the placing of a black cowl over my head was a symbol of friendship and alliance between myself and the man? The ring of light still was somewhat of a mystery to me, and I decided to explain my dream to the Elder the next day in the hopes of gaining more insight into its' full meaning.
The remainder of the night consisted mainly of re-enacting of my experience to my kin. They seemed disappointed that the beast had already been slain, and wondered aloud at what, then, had been plaguing the countryside we called home. I knew who was responsible, but telling them a nine-thousand-year old witch of some sort was their "monster" seemed it would have been too much for them to comprehend at the time, and so I joined in their hopeless pondering as we ate around the campfire. Eventually, however, the conversation had been abandoned in preference for the usual story-telling to which we were all comfortably accustomed.
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It'll be interesting to see if the Elder has anything more to say about this cloaked fellow.
I've been enjoying this so far, continuing on will keep me enjoyed.
No duh...
I've been enjoying this so far, continuing on will keep me enjoyed.
No duh...
My body was sore from the chill of the cavern and it refused to cooperate with my bedroll. Every position I curled myself into yielded discomfort. It was late and the rest of the camp slept soundly, assured that the threat of the beast had been foiled. As most Nords seem to be, those I knew as family were simple folk, and all they needed to know was that it wasn't some vile creature who had ravaged our land. I, however, probed the thought of this being the man told me about. All I knew was that it was female, very old and wanted me dead for reasons not yet revealed. I had more questions than that to ask the man when I saw him next, yet another piece of information purposefully withheld.
Normally I remember the moment just before falling asleep; what my eyes had fallen onto as they closed into unconsciousness, the fading creaks of my tent post in the wintery wind - but that night was different, as seemed to be the trend at the time. It was morning, and all I could recall was laying down, but not drifting to sleep. My confrontation with the man seemed to have thrown off my senses to a degree. It was difficult to see the far clouds and hilltops now, and the smell and taste of morning rolls fell to discouraged nerves. I noticed my muscles still ached shortly after waking, the only feeling not dulled. I slunk outside, wearily tromping in the bright sun. Slouched and aimless, I wandered about with a blurred mind that afternoon, and the Elder's tent took my vision. My dream returned to me and I entered.
The words did not come easily, but I managed them out from a dry mouth. I felt my fur heavy with the heat from my blood and constantly dabbed my face with a thin cloth. If it were any other day, I would have exhibited the utmost respect for the Elder while reporting my dream, but I found myself glancing all about his tent, scratching the backs of my hands, rubbing my nose and frequently patting my forehead with the cloth. I never once looked him in the eyes. At one point I checked behind me for my tail because I could not feel it. I picked it up and, not remembering why I wanted to in the first place, thrust it back down to the floor with a muffled thump.
At last I had finished after what seemed like an hour of talking, but it was likely much shorter than that. The tent was quiet for a short while as the Elder contemplated my words, and the peaceful quiet's patience was tried against my unusual panting. I was so hot, and in the Jerall Mountains. Khajiit cannot sweat, but I felt the way I'd guessed sweating would feel; sticky, dirty and disrespectful of the Elder's nose. I wanted to leave and lie down in the snow, or better yet, return to the cavern where it was freezing. I wanted to sit upon the throne of ice and feel the heat stiffen into shards of frost in my fur. I was so desperate for the cold, but the Elder spoke.
"Your dream belies much unseen, Ri'zjirr. The hood covered your eyes, your ears.. your entire face. It was placed upon you by hands.. were they human?" I shook my head and smacked my tongue against the roof of my mouth. "Your meeting with this man has troubled you. Tonight, be in your tent, and I will come to you with my thoughts on this dream. Rest." I nodded and thanked him, and stumbled through the deer hide flaps toward my bedroll. I looked up to the cave mouth and yearned for its cold, and for its darkness away from what felt like a beating sun. My legs were so weak, and I knew I would not reach it, so I collapsed onto my pillow and into a deep slumber.
--------------------
Normally I remember the moment just before falling asleep; what my eyes had fallen onto as they closed into unconsciousness, the fading creaks of my tent post in the wintery wind - but that night was different, as seemed to be the trend at the time. It was morning, and all I could recall was laying down, but not drifting to sleep. My confrontation with the man seemed to have thrown off my senses to a degree. It was difficult to see the far clouds and hilltops now, and the smell and taste of morning rolls fell to discouraged nerves. I noticed my muscles still ached shortly after waking, the only feeling not dulled. I slunk outside, wearily tromping in the bright sun. Slouched and aimless, I wandered about with a blurred mind that afternoon, and the Elder's tent took my vision. My dream returned to me and I entered.
The words did not come easily, but I managed them out from a dry mouth. I felt my fur heavy with the heat from my blood and constantly dabbed my face with a thin cloth. If it were any other day, I would have exhibited the utmost respect for the Elder while reporting my dream, but I found myself glancing all about his tent, scratching the backs of my hands, rubbing my nose and frequently patting my forehead with the cloth. I never once looked him in the eyes. At one point I checked behind me for my tail because I could not feel it. I picked it up and, not remembering why I wanted to in the first place, thrust it back down to the floor with a muffled thump.
At last I had finished after what seemed like an hour of talking, but it was likely much shorter than that. The tent was quiet for a short while as the Elder contemplated my words, and the peaceful quiet's patience was tried against my unusual panting. I was so hot, and in the Jerall Mountains. Khajiit cannot sweat, but I felt the way I'd guessed sweating would feel; sticky, dirty and disrespectful of the Elder's nose. I wanted to leave and lie down in the snow, or better yet, return to the cavern where it was freezing. I wanted to sit upon the throne of ice and feel the heat stiffen into shards of frost in my fur. I was so desperate for the cold, but the Elder spoke.
"Your dream belies much unseen, Ri'zjirr. The hood covered your eyes, your ears.. your entire face. It was placed upon you by hands.. were they human?" I shook my head and smacked my tongue against the roof of my mouth. "Your meeting with this man has troubled you. Tonight, be in your tent, and I will come to you with my thoughts on this dream. Rest." I nodded and thanked him, and stumbled through the deer hide flaps toward my bedroll. I looked up to the cave mouth and yearned for its cold, and for its darkness away from what felt like a beating sun. My legs were so weak, and I knew I would not reach it, so I collapsed onto my pillow and into a deep slumber.
--------------------
Thanks for the last few updates; I just got caught up. You've succeeded at increasing the mystery surrounding this Khajiit with each new bit of information you give us. What a surprise to find the beast dead, and something even stranger as the source of terror. I'm definitely quite curious about the "man" in the cave, and whether his obvious power is on the side of good or ill.
My curiosity is piqued with this update. Our Khajiit friends seems to be having health issues suddenly. Of course meeting the thing that he did, it's understandable.
Hopefully the nap will help him out.
Hopefully the nap will help him out.
"Ri'jzirr."
My eyes sprang open and shot all about me, unfamiliar with where they'd last closed. I could make nothing of my blurred surroundings, but he Elder called my name again. "Ri'jzirr," he asked, "are you with me?" Traditional Nord beliefs recognize sleep as the retiring into the Spirit World to be with their ancestors. Dreams are the mind's interpretation of your meeting with your fathers' spirits and are analyzed by village elders to discover what had taken place. Becoming tired and weary is your soul slowly drifting into that realm to commune with those who've passed away. The bear is an iconic symbol to the Nords in that they sleep for months at a time, showing their strong attachment to their ancestors. He asked if I was with him, meaning in Tamriel rather than the Spirit World.
I nodded and blinked rapidly, rubbing my eyes and face as if I'd been sleeping for a week. He put his hand to my shoulder. "Are you well?" I turned around and sat with him, nodding to the ground, arms on my bent knees, feeling the cold of the Jerall night once more. "You need warm ale," he stated, "But first, I would interpret your dream, if you can listen." My strength was returning with the cool air and I looked up to him, smiling reassuringly, and I gave a short bow of my head in welcome. He sat down from his legs to the floor and took his regular position of counsel-giving with which I was familiar.
"At first," he began in his ancient voice, "I suspected this man to have been of a reclusive cult. There are more than you may realize in these mountains.. many places to hide. However, it is widely known to those who concern themselves with such groups that their cloaks and hoods bear the symbol under which their particular cult is organized." He paused a moment and closed his eyes as if the next sentence he uttered would have brought about the annihilation of the planet if recited incorrectly. "There is one cult without such a symbol.. The Anarchal Order." I felt my face turn confused and he looked to me. "Anarchal Order? Is that not a paradox in itself," I asked. A smile cracked through his stoic expression and distorted his usually monotone words as he replied, "You are truly wise.
"The Anarchal Order originated in a land far from Tamriel, its stars strangers to ours. None but they know precisely when or where, although it is clear they have been here for an incredible length of time. I would not be surprised if no more than three others living today knew their order's name. They are the essence of enigmatic, the shadows their home. If this man belongs to the Anarchal Order, it was a once-in-a-milennia.. opportunity, we shall say, to have spoken with him in person." He seemed wary of addressing my confrontation as anything either positive or negative, and I did not blame him. "That assumed," he continued, "let us speak of your dream.
"The darkness all about you was your ignorance. It is common for those young in age and experience to feel in the dark, both in and out of dreams. Red and grey were what you saw.. the only colors cats can see. The dream altered your existence from Khajiit to cat, perhaps to exemplify your ignorance. In the end, the darkness grew, but was halted by the ring of light at your feet. At the same time, the hood covered your head and you awoke." He became quiet once more, looking desperately and straightly down, boring a hole into the dirt with his seasoned eyes. I sat eagerly awaiting the meaning of the ring of light, my primary point of interest.
"This ring of light introduces wisdom," he said at last. "The cowl being placed over your head inducts you into the Order, and wisdom begins. This is what I believe your dream to reflect. Think what you will. Take some warm ale." He promptly stood and crouched through my tent's flaps, leaving me in wonder. He was reasonably distraught from my dream's meaning; it depicted me as entering the Anarchal Order, something no one knew anything about, but apparently I'd met a member. A few moments of blank staring out into the snow later, I followed his advice and drank some ale. I felt surprisingly well after that.
--------------------
My eyes sprang open and shot all about me, unfamiliar with where they'd last closed. I could make nothing of my blurred surroundings, but he Elder called my name again. "Ri'jzirr," he asked, "are you with me?" Traditional Nord beliefs recognize sleep as the retiring into the Spirit World to be with their ancestors. Dreams are the mind's interpretation of your meeting with your fathers' spirits and are analyzed by village elders to discover what had taken place. Becoming tired and weary is your soul slowly drifting into that realm to commune with those who've passed away. The bear is an iconic symbol to the Nords in that they sleep for months at a time, showing their strong attachment to their ancestors. He asked if I was with him, meaning in Tamriel rather than the Spirit World.
I nodded and blinked rapidly, rubbing my eyes and face as if I'd been sleeping for a week. He put his hand to my shoulder. "Are you well?" I turned around and sat with him, nodding to the ground, arms on my bent knees, feeling the cold of the Jerall night once more. "You need warm ale," he stated, "But first, I would interpret your dream, if you can listen." My strength was returning with the cool air and I looked up to him, smiling reassuringly, and I gave a short bow of my head in welcome. He sat down from his legs to the floor and took his regular position of counsel-giving with which I was familiar.
"At first," he began in his ancient voice, "I suspected this man to have been of a reclusive cult. There are more than you may realize in these mountains.. many places to hide. However, it is widely known to those who concern themselves with such groups that their cloaks and hoods bear the symbol under which their particular cult is organized." He paused a moment and closed his eyes as if the next sentence he uttered would have brought about the annihilation of the planet if recited incorrectly. "There is one cult without such a symbol.. The Anarchal Order." I felt my face turn confused and he looked to me. "Anarchal Order? Is that not a paradox in itself," I asked. A smile cracked through his stoic expression and distorted his usually monotone words as he replied, "You are truly wise.
"The Anarchal Order originated in a land far from Tamriel, its stars strangers to ours. None but they know precisely when or where, although it is clear they have been here for an incredible length of time. I would not be surprised if no more than three others living today knew their order's name. They are the essence of enigmatic, the shadows their home. If this man belongs to the Anarchal Order, it was a once-in-a-milennia.. opportunity, we shall say, to have spoken with him in person." He seemed wary of addressing my confrontation as anything either positive or negative, and I did not blame him. "That assumed," he continued, "let us speak of your dream.
"The darkness all about you was your ignorance. It is common for those young in age and experience to feel in the dark, both in and out of dreams. Red and grey were what you saw.. the only colors cats can see. The dream altered your existence from Khajiit to cat, perhaps to exemplify your ignorance. In the end, the darkness grew, but was halted by the ring of light at your feet. At the same time, the hood covered your head and you awoke." He became quiet once more, looking desperately and straightly down, boring a hole into the dirt with his seasoned eyes. I sat eagerly awaiting the meaning of the ring of light, my primary point of interest.
"This ring of light introduces wisdom," he said at last. "The cowl being placed over your head inducts you into the Order, and wisdom begins. This is what I believe your dream to reflect. Think what you will. Take some warm ale." He promptly stood and crouched through my tent's flaps, leaving me in wonder. He was reasonably distraught from my dream's meaning; it depicted me as entering the Anarchal Order, something no one knew anything about, but apparently I'd met a member. A few moments of blank staring out into the snow later, I followed his advice and drank some ale. I felt surprisingly well after that.
--------------------
A paradoxical order and a disturbing dream; you certainly know how to keep my curiosity piqued. I was definitely intrigued by the Nords' perception of sleep and dreams; it certainly explained quite well why the bear is so respected in their culture. Thanks for another great update.
Mplantinga took the words right out of my mouth... and made them better .
Looking forward to the next one!
.Looking forward to the next one!
Indeed a most intriguing story, IŽm really looking forward to learn more abbout this kitty
I sat by the bonfire in the center of the camp and watched my kin set out their spears and swords for tomorrow. It would be the second Hunt of the month, when most of them would stand facing Bear's Sledge, an enormous natural rock formation a few minute's walk from their tents, and wait for the sun to take position directly above it. This indicated that the time of the Hunt would take place, and they would disperse in celebration and bloodlust into the surrounding hills and forests for meat, fur, hooves and teeth. With what they would return was capable of providing for the encampment until the next Hunt, always two weeks apart. When the last candle had been silenced, I turned to the burning timber at the base of the fire before me.
"Be not afraid," I said calmly. "What?" I said again. I quickly stood and looked all about, but the moon was shrouded now in thick clouds, and the only light still alive was that from the bonfire. All else was pitch black, and I felt the dense shadows from the cave envelop me once more. "Is it you? From the cave?" I asked in panicked haste. I ceased all movement and the flame of the fire faded in darkness. I could not hear my own words, but I did speak them. As occurred in the cavern, I suspected they would have been carried directly to the ears of the cloaked man, if he was here, and if he even had ears.
"The mist has been lifted," I heard him say, clear as ever. My body felt free again but I did not move. The feeling of snow was replaced with ice under my feet, and upon looking down to this change, I noticed immediately that my clothes were missing. He appeared from within the blackness and at once, I found myself in the cave, standing just where I had the time before. Instinctively, I covered myself with my hands and bent to short crouch. "Indeed, yet you still have much to learn," he said in that low, emotionless tone. "It is you," I confirmed, and he nodded. "I see more behind your eyes than when last we met. Your Elder has revealed my identity."
"Not entirely," I replied, "but.. I'm sorry, where is my armor?" He stood there, silent in all ways but when he spoke, his worn hood concealing all expression. "The Anarchal Order," he said, the words pouring from under his cowl without breath, "was established so long ago in time that the most ancient of texts, the Elder Scrolls, have no record of its name. The Daedra Princes, the Nine Divines, the All-Father.. children to the Order. We have been while these entities came into creation. We watched as they were born, and we shall as they die. We have seen Tamriel's coming into existence and it will fall before our eyes. Time and space are trivial to us. Here," and I felt my arm raise to his chest. I automatically tugged away, but it did not move. It pulled me closer to him and my hand passed through his cloak and out the other side. I gasped and looked to his hidden face, utterly amazed, but not as much as I could have potentially been if I'd not met him earlier and knew at least some of his strange powers.
Control returned to me and I took my arm out from him again, feeling no change in temperature in the process. I looked down at it as if I expected something new to have been placed there, and in fact, there was. I followed a solid black sleeve from my wrist to my shoulder, and noticed I had been dressed in a similar cloak as the man's. "What is this," I asked, overcome with confusion, and something told me to check my head for a hood, but there was nothing. "Do not assume I attempt to persuade you into joining us," he implored. "I am only doing what must be done. Allow me to explain further than in our last conversation.
"Those accepted into The Anarchal Order are proven to possess a clear mind and a pure soul. As the wild boar of your land feels no contempt for its murderer, we dismiss revenge. As the lion's only purpose for killing is to survive, we focus our energies into that which is necessary to perform. As I've stated, our earlier confrontation was the meaning for life. All events which have occurred thus far, from the creation of Nirn to the Altmer jumping over a puddle, have led you to me, and I to you. You, Ri'jzirr, are to join the Order and return balance to all that is." He paused and I took the opportunity to fish out a question from the sea of bewilderment in my mind. "How would my joining the Order bring about all-encompassing balance," I asked.
"The Order," he answered, "is the foundation for all things. As the arch cannot support weight if it is without its center stone, existence may not be without us. You are our center stone, Ri'jzirr, and my enemy seeks to shatter you."
--------------------
"Be not afraid," I said calmly. "What?" I said again. I quickly stood and looked all about, but the moon was shrouded now in thick clouds, and the only light still alive was that from the bonfire. All else was pitch black, and I felt the dense shadows from the cave envelop me once more. "Is it you? From the cave?" I asked in panicked haste. I ceased all movement and the flame of the fire faded in darkness. I could not hear my own words, but I did speak them. As occurred in the cavern, I suspected they would have been carried directly to the ears of the cloaked man, if he was here, and if he even had ears.
"The mist has been lifted," I heard him say, clear as ever. My body felt free again but I did not move. The feeling of snow was replaced with ice under my feet, and upon looking down to this change, I noticed immediately that my clothes were missing. He appeared from within the blackness and at once, I found myself in the cave, standing just where I had the time before. Instinctively, I covered myself with my hands and bent to short crouch. "Indeed, yet you still have much to learn," he said in that low, emotionless tone. "It is you," I confirmed, and he nodded. "I see more behind your eyes than when last we met. Your Elder has revealed my identity."
"Not entirely," I replied, "but.. I'm sorry, where is my armor?" He stood there, silent in all ways but when he spoke, his worn hood concealing all expression. "The Anarchal Order," he said, the words pouring from under his cowl without breath, "was established so long ago in time that the most ancient of texts, the Elder Scrolls, have no record of its name. The Daedra Princes, the Nine Divines, the All-Father.. children to the Order. We have been while these entities came into creation. We watched as they were born, and we shall as they die. We have seen Tamriel's coming into existence and it will fall before our eyes. Time and space are trivial to us. Here," and I felt my arm raise to his chest. I automatically tugged away, but it did not move. It pulled me closer to him and my hand passed through his cloak and out the other side. I gasped and looked to his hidden face, utterly amazed, but not as much as I could have potentially been if I'd not met him earlier and knew at least some of his strange powers.
Control returned to me and I took my arm out from him again, feeling no change in temperature in the process. I looked down at it as if I expected something new to have been placed there, and in fact, there was. I followed a solid black sleeve from my wrist to my shoulder, and noticed I had been dressed in a similar cloak as the man's. "What is this," I asked, overcome with confusion, and something told me to check my head for a hood, but there was nothing. "Do not assume I attempt to persuade you into joining us," he implored. "I am only doing what must be done. Allow me to explain further than in our last conversation.
"Those accepted into The Anarchal Order are proven to possess a clear mind and a pure soul. As the wild boar of your land feels no contempt for its murderer, we dismiss revenge. As the lion's only purpose for killing is to survive, we focus our energies into that which is necessary to perform. As I've stated, our earlier confrontation was the meaning for life. All events which have occurred thus far, from the creation of Nirn to the Altmer jumping over a puddle, have led you to me, and I to you. You, Ri'jzirr, are to join the Order and return balance to all that is." He paused and I took the opportunity to fish out a question from the sea of bewilderment in my mind. "How would my joining the Order bring about all-encompassing balance," I asked.
"The Order," he answered, "is the foundation for all things. As the arch cannot support weight if it is without its center stone, existence may not be without us. You are our center stone, Ri'jzirr, and my enemy seeks to shatter you."
--------------------
The power and intrigue surrounding the anarchal order continue to fascinate and astound me, just as they do Ri'jzirr. I can only imagine his confusion at being told he is the center stone of a supernatural order about which he knows nearly nothing.
ShraX, I mean no disrespect, but each new installment only prolongs our sense of confusion and wonder. You give us new information, but then add new mysteries for us to ponder. I suppose this is intentional, since you have clearly demonstrated your command over your stories. I guess you just want to keep us in suspense. If so, it is working very, very well. Keep up the great work.
ShraX, I mean no disrespect, but each new installment only prolongs our sense of confusion and wonder. You give us new information, but then add new mysteries for us to ponder. I suppose this is intentional, since you have clearly demonstrated your command over your stories. I guess you just want to keep us in suspense. If so, it is working very, very well. Keep up the great work.
Wonderful update ShraX. I am also enjoying the vast amount of suspense layered within each update. I'm looking forward to seeing what else is revealed about this Order.
"I believe I'm beyond shock at this point," I declared. "However, I must take things one at a time. I have questions for you."
"There is truth in your Elder's words," he replied. "You are truly wise. Indeed, let us put to rest your confusion. Our location is unknown to her, we are safe to discuss."
At last having the chance to ask the man what was going on, my mind drew a blank. I did have many questions for him, but most of them seemed unimportant. The heaviest weight on my mind now was not even the idea that some ancient archer sought my life, but that my existence was the keystone to the fabric of all things, both living and inanimate. How could this possibly be? That was my first question.
"You must understand that life is not everything. Countless beings live on both this world and others, numbers beyond comprehension throughout the stars. Tell me - do you believe in a supreme being? A God?"
I was relaxed in his presence. I understood that he wanted to protect me, and with obviously good reason. He was a guardian of existence, a member of this Anarchal Order which, I assumed, was created to safeguard reality. Living in a Nord encampment my entire life, never straying from Cyrodiil's borders, I could not possibly fathom the things this man has seen. Surely he knew if there was in fact a God, or even Gods that influenced the world around me, but I gave my opinion.
"I do not," I answered. I honestly did not. The Nords' All-Father was but a character in fairy tales told to children and young men and women as the basis for proving themselves amongst their respective clans and families. Perhaps it was a stronger figure amongst the Elders in Skyrim, but to me, being an adopted Khajiit, I held no faith towards any divine deity in particular.
"There is one," he said. "It has no gender and resides not in one, confined form. It is your cloak, your blood, your bones, this mountain, the purple sky, and your tent's shadow when the sun is high. It has neither name nor language, eyes, ears or hands. We of the Order refer to it as Balance, but all creatures know it as something of their own. It controls all, but not without our aid.
"The Anarchal Order was formed to play the part of the scale; Balance is the force set upon either side, and we must ensure that force is of equal strength. If Balance is disturbed, the scale will tilt, the Order will fall, and existence will fail. You, Ri'jzirr, are the bar. You hold the chains and provide Balance with something upon which to set its force. Without you, there is nothing."
My thoughts racing, I asked, "But I am twenty years old! There was life before my birth!"
"Was there?"
I felt the blood drain from my face. I stepped back and tried my hardest to stop the cloak from trembling from my shaking legs. "This is disturbing news," he said. I fell back to the floor and put one hand to my forehead. "My parents?" I asked. The man sat on the throne behind him and put his limp sleeves on its arms, the darkness under his cowl never faltering despite the light of the cave. "You've never had parents. Upon the start of your life, We of the Order supplied you with a small basket, customary to the Nords of your camp, so they would recognize you as an orphan and take you in as their own."
"How did you do this if I began existence?!" I shouted, strangely enraged at my unbelievable origin. I suppose I knew of no other way to respond.
"The Order does not exist," he replied. "It was established elsewhere."
"Why did you not recruit me as a member then and there?"
"It was imperative for you to have experienced life as you have; as a Khajiit in Tamriel for twenty Nirn years, to prepare you for your induction into the Order now. What you've done during that time may seem trivial, but only through such exposure could you have been properly trained to become a member."
I stared down to the seemingly bottomless pit below us, not knowing what to ask next. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. "Is this fate?"
"No," the man confirmed in a louder voice than he had projected all along, and I jumped at the surprise of a change in his volume. "This is the will of all things to continue their presence in existence. You have no more questions. Let me help you to allow all that is to persist. We leave for the Order's residence. Brace yourself."
--------------------
"There is truth in your Elder's words," he replied. "You are truly wise. Indeed, let us put to rest your confusion. Our location is unknown to her, we are safe to discuss."
At last having the chance to ask the man what was going on, my mind drew a blank. I did have many questions for him, but most of them seemed unimportant. The heaviest weight on my mind now was not even the idea that some ancient archer sought my life, but that my existence was the keystone to the fabric of all things, both living and inanimate. How could this possibly be? That was my first question.
"You must understand that life is not everything. Countless beings live on both this world and others, numbers beyond comprehension throughout the stars. Tell me - do you believe in a supreme being? A God?"
I was relaxed in his presence. I understood that he wanted to protect me, and with obviously good reason. He was a guardian of existence, a member of this Anarchal Order which, I assumed, was created to safeguard reality. Living in a Nord encampment my entire life, never straying from Cyrodiil's borders, I could not possibly fathom the things this man has seen. Surely he knew if there was in fact a God, or even Gods that influenced the world around me, but I gave my opinion.
"I do not," I answered. I honestly did not. The Nords' All-Father was but a character in fairy tales told to children and young men and women as the basis for proving themselves amongst their respective clans and families. Perhaps it was a stronger figure amongst the Elders in Skyrim, but to me, being an adopted Khajiit, I held no faith towards any divine deity in particular.
"There is one," he said. "It has no gender and resides not in one, confined form. It is your cloak, your blood, your bones, this mountain, the purple sky, and your tent's shadow when the sun is high. It has neither name nor language, eyes, ears or hands. We of the Order refer to it as Balance, but all creatures know it as something of their own. It controls all, but not without our aid.
"The Anarchal Order was formed to play the part of the scale; Balance is the force set upon either side, and we must ensure that force is of equal strength. If Balance is disturbed, the scale will tilt, the Order will fall, and existence will fail. You, Ri'jzirr, are the bar. You hold the chains and provide Balance with something upon which to set its force. Without you, there is nothing."
My thoughts racing, I asked, "But I am twenty years old! There was life before my birth!"
"Was there?"
I felt the blood drain from my face. I stepped back and tried my hardest to stop the cloak from trembling from my shaking legs. "This is disturbing news," he said. I fell back to the floor and put one hand to my forehead. "My parents?" I asked. The man sat on the throne behind him and put his limp sleeves on its arms, the darkness under his cowl never faltering despite the light of the cave. "You've never had parents. Upon the start of your life, We of the Order supplied you with a small basket, customary to the Nords of your camp, so they would recognize you as an orphan and take you in as their own."
"How did you do this if I began existence?!" I shouted, strangely enraged at my unbelievable origin. I suppose I knew of no other way to respond.
"The Order does not exist," he replied. "It was established elsewhere."
"Why did you not recruit me as a member then and there?"
"It was imperative for you to have experienced life as you have; as a Khajiit in Tamriel for twenty Nirn years, to prepare you for your induction into the Order now. What you've done during that time may seem trivial, but only through such exposure could you have been properly trained to become a member."
I stared down to the seemingly bottomless pit below us, not knowing what to ask next. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. "Is this fate?"
"No," the man confirmed in a louder voice than he had projected all along, and I jumped at the surprise of a change in his volume. "This is the will of all things to continue their presence in existence. You have no more questions. Let me help you to allow all that is to persist. We leave for the Order's residence. Brace yourself."
--------------------
Wow, you just set off an atom bomb of a revelation there. Our Khajiit friend was created, not concieved by birth. Some things have been answered but now there's this question: What is next?
Wow, this is deep. Very deep. What else will happen?
Finally, some answers. Yet, somehow, I feel like I don't understand much more than I did before. I'm really looking forward to hearing about the Order's residence.
I just want to thank those who actually find this chaotic story readable for continuing to read it. Hopefully it's starting to come together..
--------------------
"What?!" I broke from my stupor of disbelief at the notion of leaving for the Order's 'residence',
as he called it. "I can't just leave! What of my family?!" But before I noticed, the cave turned to solid grey. Without thinking, I backed away with furious nervousness, and would have pushed myself off the steep cliff if it had still been there. My head shot back behind me but there was nothing. My hands fell to what felt like glass, but there was no light; only grey. I looked back to the man in overwhelming wonder for an answer. He wasn't exceptional at giving answers, but only when they were asked of him. It was logical, but he was obviously incapable of empathy. Of course, none of this was going through my head at that particular moment.
"Enough wonder. You will experience things far stranger to you than this."
I shrunk into my cloak and tried to allow my new surroundings to catch up with me. I stood cautiously and moved closer to the man, unbalanced and dizzy; there was no floor, walls or ceiling, but only an infinite expanse of nothingness. Nothing existed here.
"Why was it you asked for me to brace myself?" I asked.
He raised his limbless sleeve and pointed with it behind me, and I turned. What I saw was myself, only transparent and mimicking my every move. The second image was blurred and its edges shook violently. I only saw my back since it was, in fact, behind me, and it moved as I did. I raised one arm and it did the same, and I laughed out a "Heh!" I suppose I'd already reached my capacity for oddity and the surplus was attempting to escape through short chuckles. Suddenly, the image ripped apart from its middle and tore in some ten pieces, each slit and sliding in opposite directions. Each segment then shattered without sound and slowly faded out of sight.
"You will see now."
"How exactly am I supposed to brace myself when there's nothi--"
I was interrupted by a feeling unlike any other in my head. I've had headaches before, but this was not painful, only as if my brain had turned to feathers and they were tickling my skull from the inside. I threw both hands up to my face and stumbled about groaning, but to no avail.. as if doing such a thing would have helped matters. I looked again to the man but still he stood in silence, and it was beginning to annoy me.
"What is going on?!" My words drifted into space, but I heard them as if they'd been spoken in the cave. He did not answer at once, but I soon discovered why; our surroundings would do that for him. The grey shifted into bright white, and it burnt my eyes with its brilliance. I closed them hard but even then the light was too much, and I dropped to my knees. I only knew I had done this because of my position; there was no floor onto which I fell.
"Cease this torture!!" I begged, but he said nothing. "Answer me!!" Silence. I could not open my eyes and the searing white gave me no distinction between whether or not my eyes were shut. It changed again, and just when the pain was most intense, to pitch darkness. My head felt solid once more and the pain promptly diminished, and I stood again to the man with clear sight. Although all was black around me, the man stood out. I looked down and was able to see my cloak, but my hands and feet had been consumed by the dark. I then heard someone speaking. It sounded much like the man but it echoed in my ears and in a language most foreign. I looked about to try and find the source, but there was only blackness.
"Your Elder is wise," he spoke softly. "Membership of the Order will bring about great wisdom, indeed."
It struck me then: my dream. All was darkness but for the ring of light at my feet - wisdom. As if on cue, a circle of white surrounded me and I looked up to the man for the last time.
"And my hood?" I asked expectingly, and it closed over my eyes.
--------------------
--------------------
"What?!" I broke from my stupor of disbelief at the notion of leaving for the Order's 'residence',
as he called it. "I can't just leave! What of my family?!" But before I noticed, the cave turned to solid grey. Without thinking, I backed away with furious nervousness, and would have pushed myself off the steep cliff if it had still been there. My head shot back behind me but there was nothing. My hands fell to what felt like glass, but there was no light; only grey. I looked back to the man in overwhelming wonder for an answer. He wasn't exceptional at giving answers, but only when they were asked of him. It was logical, but he was obviously incapable of empathy. Of course, none of this was going through my head at that particular moment.
"Enough wonder. You will experience things far stranger to you than this."
I shrunk into my cloak and tried to allow my new surroundings to catch up with me. I stood cautiously and moved closer to the man, unbalanced and dizzy; there was no floor, walls or ceiling, but only an infinite expanse of nothingness. Nothing existed here.
"Why was it you asked for me to brace myself?" I asked.
He raised his limbless sleeve and pointed with it behind me, and I turned. What I saw was myself, only transparent and mimicking my every move. The second image was blurred and its edges shook violently. I only saw my back since it was, in fact, behind me, and it moved as I did. I raised one arm and it did the same, and I laughed out a "Heh!" I suppose I'd already reached my capacity for oddity and the surplus was attempting to escape through short chuckles. Suddenly, the image ripped apart from its middle and tore in some ten pieces, each slit and sliding in opposite directions. Each segment then shattered without sound and slowly faded out of sight.
"You will see now."
"How exactly am I supposed to brace myself when there's nothi--"
I was interrupted by a feeling unlike any other in my head. I've had headaches before, but this was not painful, only as if my brain had turned to feathers and they were tickling my skull from the inside. I threw both hands up to my face and stumbled about groaning, but to no avail.. as if doing such a thing would have helped matters. I looked again to the man but still he stood in silence, and it was beginning to annoy me.
"What is going on?!" My words drifted into space, but I heard them as if they'd been spoken in the cave. He did not answer at once, but I soon discovered why; our surroundings would do that for him. The grey shifted into bright white, and it burnt my eyes with its brilliance. I closed them hard but even then the light was too much, and I dropped to my knees. I only knew I had done this because of my position; there was no floor onto which I fell.
"Cease this torture!!" I begged, but he said nothing. "Answer me!!" Silence. I could not open my eyes and the searing white gave me no distinction between whether or not my eyes were shut. It changed again, and just when the pain was most intense, to pitch darkness. My head felt solid once more and the pain promptly diminished, and I stood again to the man with clear sight. Although all was black around me, the man stood out. I looked down and was able to see my cloak, but my hands and feet had been consumed by the dark. I then heard someone speaking. It sounded much like the man but it echoed in my ears and in a language most foreign. I looked about to try and find the source, but there was only blackness.
"Your Elder is wise," he spoke softly. "Membership of the Order will bring about great wisdom, indeed."
It struck me then: my dream. All was darkness but for the ring of light at my feet - wisdom. As if on cue, a circle of white surrounded me and I looked up to the man for the last time.
"And my hood?" I asked expectingly, and it closed over my eyes.
--------------------
Well, I'm not sure that it is coming together, but it is certainly coming along. More things continue to happen, and continue to inform us about what is going on, yet none of them really explain. Nonetheless, I'm completely enthralled with the story. Keep up the great work.
I think it's making it's way closer to coming together; it's certainly interesting to read about. I'm personally looking forward to this "archer" showing up again.
I think everything's been laid out pretty well.. you may need to check what's happened previously to understand what's going on now. I admit it's somewhat confusing, but it does make sense. A side-goal of mine was to try and keep the reader as much in the unknown as Ri'jzirr, but hopefully no one's in complete confusion.
--------------------
My dream had been fully realized, and in this yet-unexplained realm of white and black. I looked down and saw the floor reflecting my image back into my eyes; my hands and feet were now invisible, and my face was sealed in darkness under the cowl. I looked to the man and noticed we, aside from posture, looked to be in perfect congruence with one another.
"You know of physical transportation," he said. "Now you know that of the mind." Apparently he had taken me elsewhere, to this place of non-existence, through thought instead of with our legs. It seemed a simple concept to understand, now, anyway. I felt there was not much else to ask him other than, "Where are we," and so I did.
"We have reached the Order's residence," he explained. "Welcome." Welcome to what? All was black. There were no signs of civilization anywhere in sight. There was no smell, wind or sound. Even the silence could not be heard. Somehow, though, I began thinking differently. "There is nothing here," I concluded. He nodded, surprisingly, and where I'd normally put my hands to my hips, they hung at my sides. I didn't even realize they were there at all. "There is more here than meets the eye." He nodded again.
The way I thought of it was, this place was the opposite of where I'd lived all my life. There was no cold, no rain, no warming fire or creaking tent posts, no food or air, and no sleep. We were where nothing was, nothing but we. It contradicted all I'd ever known, but there I stood with the man in pure, true nothingness. I required no explanation; it became obvious, after listening to all he'd said before, that the Order's residence did not exist. It was here though, where 'here' was nowhere.
"Are there others?" I asked, not expressing any particular anxiousness in my voice. "There are," he replied, "but first you must understand the rules of this place.
"It is a most simple thing to become lost here," he continued. "Here, there is no space, no time. If you were to stray from me, you could potentially reach a point beyond the hope of becoming found once more. Take six steps to your left."
Immediately the arrows shot back into my memory and I sped left, counting each step and watching the man at all times. I turned behind me but saw only black, then upwards to find her. I saw the Archer at last, my fated enemy of whom I knew nothing. I held my place and trusted my guardian's judgement, but grew nervous knowing she was watching me. She wore a similar cloak and hood, only hers were much larger, too wide to fit her appropriately. She was somewhat far above me but I noticed another difference between her and we of the Order - she bore a bright orange symbol of an uneven circle with three lines crossing through it, intersecting in the center on her chest. She had apparently joined with another cult but retained the abilities and knowledge bestowed upon her by the Anarchal Order. After all, she appeared to understand the laws of non-existence.
For the first time I saw the man move in greater complexity than sitting and standing to and from his icy throne in the mountain. With impossible quickness he crouched and lunged at the Archer who remained in her gravity-defying spot above us both. I expected one of them to exchange words before a battle commenced, but obviously they had no more to share. Strangely, I had no need to lift my hood to watch him, even as it covered my eyes.
Within a split second he reached her, and from the darkness at her sides, two others of the Order bolted towards her, and all three stopped suddenly, reaching one arm toward her head. Knowing of the man's immense power already, I deemed this, obviously an expression of hostility, to exhibit a much larger force than absorbing three poisoned arrows. However, I held my place and relied on his instructions, and helplessly watched on. The Archer shook vigorously with discontent and brought one hand to her hood, the other grasping her long bow and waving it at her three assailants. She began spinning rapidly and let out a shriek of pain until her cloak concealed her within the darkness all around us, and she vanished as quickly as she came.
The three who had somehow banished her returned to me and I bowed in thanks. "We do not allow corruption within our residence," said the man, and I nodded as would a child who'd just been thrown out of the way of a speeding carriage on the road by a passing knight. I looked back to where I stood before her appearance and gasped at the multitude of arrows sticking out from the transparent floor. I hadn't even heard them shot, but I quickly reminded myself of where I was. "What did you do to her?"
"As I've said, she has refused death. We merely channeled our energies into her mind, telling her why death is necessary."
"So all you did was explain to her that she must die?"
"Yes. We brought this truth to the very core of her being, but she does not want to believe. She has refused our counsel for ages."
'Perhaps,' I thought, 'I would be somewhat more convincing.'
--------------------
--------------------
My dream had been fully realized, and in this yet-unexplained realm of white and black. I looked down and saw the floor reflecting my image back into my eyes; my hands and feet were now invisible, and my face was sealed in darkness under the cowl. I looked to the man and noticed we, aside from posture, looked to be in perfect congruence with one another.
"You know of physical transportation," he said. "Now you know that of the mind." Apparently he had taken me elsewhere, to this place of non-existence, through thought instead of with our legs. It seemed a simple concept to understand, now, anyway. I felt there was not much else to ask him other than, "Where are we," and so I did.
"We have reached the Order's residence," he explained. "Welcome." Welcome to what? All was black. There were no signs of civilization anywhere in sight. There was no smell, wind or sound. Even the silence could not be heard. Somehow, though, I began thinking differently. "There is nothing here," I concluded. He nodded, surprisingly, and where I'd normally put my hands to my hips, they hung at my sides. I didn't even realize they were there at all. "There is more here than meets the eye." He nodded again.
The way I thought of it was, this place was the opposite of where I'd lived all my life. There was no cold, no rain, no warming fire or creaking tent posts, no food or air, and no sleep. We were where nothing was, nothing but we. It contradicted all I'd ever known, but there I stood with the man in pure, true nothingness. I required no explanation; it became obvious, after listening to all he'd said before, that the Order's residence did not exist. It was here though, where 'here' was nowhere.
"Are there others?" I asked, not expressing any particular anxiousness in my voice. "There are," he replied, "but first you must understand the rules of this place.
"It is a most simple thing to become lost here," he continued. "Here, there is no space, no time. If you were to stray from me, you could potentially reach a point beyond the hope of becoming found once more. Take six steps to your left."
Immediately the arrows shot back into my memory and I sped left, counting each step and watching the man at all times. I turned behind me but saw only black, then upwards to find her. I saw the Archer at last, my fated enemy of whom I knew nothing. I held my place and trusted my guardian's judgement, but grew nervous knowing she was watching me. She wore a similar cloak and hood, only hers were much larger, too wide to fit her appropriately. She was somewhat far above me but I noticed another difference between her and we of the Order - she bore a bright orange symbol of an uneven circle with three lines crossing through it, intersecting in the center on her chest. She had apparently joined with another cult but retained the abilities and knowledge bestowed upon her by the Anarchal Order. After all, she appeared to understand the laws of non-existence.
For the first time I saw the man move in greater complexity than sitting and standing to and from his icy throne in the mountain. With impossible quickness he crouched and lunged at the Archer who remained in her gravity-defying spot above us both. I expected one of them to exchange words before a battle commenced, but obviously they had no more to share. Strangely, I had no need to lift my hood to watch him, even as it covered my eyes.
Within a split second he reached her, and from the darkness at her sides, two others of the Order bolted towards her, and all three stopped suddenly, reaching one arm toward her head. Knowing of the man's immense power already, I deemed this, obviously an expression of hostility, to exhibit a much larger force than absorbing three poisoned arrows. However, I held my place and relied on his instructions, and helplessly watched on. The Archer shook vigorously with discontent and brought one hand to her hood, the other grasping her long bow and waving it at her three assailants. She began spinning rapidly and let out a shriek of pain until her cloak concealed her within the darkness all around us, and she vanished as quickly as she came.
The three who had somehow banished her returned to me and I bowed in thanks. "We do not allow corruption within our residence," said the man, and I nodded as would a child who'd just been thrown out of the way of a speeding carriage on the road by a passing knight. I looked back to where I stood before her appearance and gasped at the multitude of arrows sticking out from the transparent floor. I hadn't even heard them shot, but I quickly reminded myself of where I was. "What did you do to her?"
"As I've said, she has refused death. We merely channeled our energies into her mind, telling her why death is necessary."
"So all you did was explain to her that she must die?"
"Yes. We brought this truth to the very core of her being, but she does not want to believe. She has refused our counsel for ages."
'Perhaps,' I thought, 'I would be somewhat more convincing.'
--------------------
I would not say that I am in complete confusion, but I am easily confused. After this last installment, I do feel like my confusion is clearing up, and things that were previously confusing are starting to make sense. I don't doubt that you have carefully planned the entire story, and I trust that it shall unfold brilliantly just as you have planned. I've actually enjoyed your "side-goal" of limiting our knowledge to what Ri'jzirr understands; it enhances the personal feeling of the story and helps me to connect with the character.
So we learn some backlog somewhat on this archer character. Rather unique for a villian, or is she.....?
With the twists and turns in this fic, I don't it's safe for me to predict anything Which is a good thing, because I like to be guessing the whole time I read something like this.
With the twists and turns in this fic, I don't it's safe for me to predict anything
Which is a good thing, because I like to be guessing the whole time I read something like this.
"This is what we believe," said the man in response, once again, to my thoughts.
"But why? Is it because of my being your.. 'center stone'?"
"Yes. Being the embodiment of the commencement of life brings with it unimaginable qualities. We of the Order are charged with your awakening to these qualities."
I nodded but my mind exploded with excitement and anxiety. "So you will train me," I concluded unsurely. The man's cowl lowered in affirmation and he turned walking in the opposite direction. The other two of the Order stood silently, and I bowed once more before passing them by to follow him.
"As you may have expected, there is much you must learn. Living twenty years in Tamriel was indeed imperitive training for the trials that lay before you, but not because of what you've accomplished." He paused and stopped, and I with him. His hood lifted and I looked upward. "Rather, because you must now teach yourself to defy the laws you've been forced to uphold." I glanced back to him in very mild surprise, but my attention was stolen by a brilliant flash of color sparking and smoking in a spiral above us. I cannot describe this color as I had never seen it before.. it was magnificent. No combination of red, blue and yellow could ever concoct such as that, and my jaw literally dropped to the end of its hinges at the sight. "This color is only visible on one world where its suns' light shines through its atmosphere at the precise points to reflect it onto the planets' surface." I repeated the word, "atmosphere" because I'd never heard it and knew not what it meant. My eyes were pinned to the swirling torrent of color before me.
"May it serve as a symbol in reference to what you are to become. You will form yourself anew and exhibit qualities never-before seen in Tamriel. You are as unique as this color - one of your kind and so impossibly complex that your enemies will disbelieve your abilities. Gravity will shatter in your wake. Space and Time will crumble at your feet. Let us begin."
That wild, fiery conjuration was all I could see for a long while; my mind's eye had been blinded with its radicality. I truly shared the Order's cause and concern of dealing with the Archer to protect existence, and I felt that foreign-colored, flaming chaos represented what I would soon aspire to be - a being who possessed the power to safeguard all that was, is, and ever will be from harm. It had burnt out by now, and the man and I were alone once more.
"Before we commence," he told me, "a warning." He held out one sleeve and from within it extended an arrow. It was black but clearly visible in the darkness surrounding us, and its head and tail were the same pure white, so expertly fashioned that no flaw knew its point. "Feel the edge," he said, and without much hesitation, I did. It hurt not and my skin kept together, but as I ran my finger along the side of the razor-like tip, I was introduced into a new form of pain; a thousand voices whispered soft and loud, unintelligable and angry things, crushing my thoughts and breaking my concentration. I could not move, and all I sensed were those furious messages being sent to what felt like the center of my consciousness. Although I was unable to make sense of what one particular voice was saying, they formed a pattern and I heard them all at once: 'Balance Be Shaken'. It grew louder and I did not realize my body had failed, and I toppled over my weakened legs. The man pulled the arrow back into his cloak and the voices tore away with it, and my hand fell free.
"Let us begin."
--------------------
"But why? Is it because of my being your.. 'center stone'?"
"Yes. Being the embodiment of the commencement of life brings with it unimaginable qualities. We of the Order are charged with your awakening to these qualities."
I nodded but my mind exploded with excitement and anxiety. "So you will train me," I concluded unsurely. The man's cowl lowered in affirmation and he turned walking in the opposite direction. The other two of the Order stood silently, and I bowed once more before passing them by to follow him.
"As you may have expected, there is much you must learn. Living twenty years in Tamriel was indeed imperitive training for the trials that lay before you, but not because of what you've accomplished." He paused and stopped, and I with him. His hood lifted and I looked upward. "Rather, because you must now teach yourself to defy the laws you've been forced to uphold." I glanced back to him in very mild surprise, but my attention was stolen by a brilliant flash of color sparking and smoking in a spiral above us. I cannot describe this color as I had never seen it before.. it was magnificent. No combination of red, blue and yellow could ever concoct such as that, and my jaw literally dropped to the end of its hinges at the sight. "This color is only visible on one world where its suns' light shines through its atmosphere at the precise points to reflect it onto the planets' surface." I repeated the word, "atmosphere" because I'd never heard it and knew not what it meant. My eyes were pinned to the swirling torrent of color before me.
"May it serve as a symbol in reference to what you are to become. You will form yourself anew and exhibit qualities never-before seen in Tamriel. You are as unique as this color - one of your kind and so impossibly complex that your enemies will disbelieve your abilities. Gravity will shatter in your wake. Space and Time will crumble at your feet. Let us begin."
That wild, fiery conjuration was all I could see for a long while; my mind's eye had been blinded with its radicality. I truly shared the Order's cause and concern of dealing with the Archer to protect existence, and I felt that foreign-colored, flaming chaos represented what I would soon aspire to be - a being who possessed the power to safeguard all that was, is, and ever will be from harm. It had burnt out by now, and the man and I were alone once more.
"Before we commence," he told me, "a warning." He held out one sleeve and from within it extended an arrow. It was black but clearly visible in the darkness surrounding us, and its head and tail were the same pure white, so expertly fashioned that no flaw knew its point. "Feel the edge," he said, and without much hesitation, I did. It hurt not and my skin kept together, but as I ran my finger along the side of the razor-like tip, I was introduced into a new form of pain; a thousand voices whispered soft and loud, unintelligable and angry things, crushing my thoughts and breaking my concentration. I could not move, and all I sensed were those furious messages being sent to what felt like the center of my consciousness. Although I was unable to make sense of what one particular voice was saying, they formed a pattern and I heard them all at once: 'Balance Be Shaken'. It grew louder and I did not realize my body had failed, and I toppled over my weakened legs. The man pulled the arrow back into his cloak and the voices tore away with it, and my hand fell free.
"Let us begin."
--------------------
Thanks for another intriguing update. I was particularly intrigued by the arrow at the end of the post. It almost seems like a physical manifestation of a mental attack, as if the archer fires arrows not to harm the body but to overload and destroy the mind. Or perhaps I'm just reading too much into it. I'll look forward to finding out.
More new things to be discovered with this update. I look forward to seeing the method on how our Kahjiit will be trained.
I apologize for the grueling pace at which this story seems to be going, but school has me on a tight leash nowadays
--------------------
He and I "trained" for some time. I am hesitant to use the word "trained" because, as with all non-existence, I was utterly oblivious as to how things actually worked there, and the "training" did not help much with that, but it is the most accurate word I can use. Normally, in Tamriel, each of my senses were sharply honed to my environment, which was usually the Jeralls. Here, I was nothing; equivalent to the blackness in which we perpetuously hung without place or reason.
"Are we here?" I asked the man at one point. My thoughts grew more profound and insightful, and so my questions mimicked the change.
"No," he replied in his ever-level tone, "we are our consciousnesses manifest, for such things exist not in the physical world, but only in the mind." I was satisfied with that.
He gave me instructions and I attempted to follow them. If he had seen enough of one exercise, he would call to me and I would be given something new. I was told to display my acrobatic abilities and those of combat. I was even allowed use of an axe and shield, my arms of highest proficiency. After each exhibition of my skills, the man and some others who watched nodded in synchrony, and he told me, always in the same words, "Acknowledged. Here is what you must do to defeat her," and he would take my weapon and move with it in such ways that fused harmony into both hostility and grace, layered in movements no solid body could possibly make. I knew little of him, and most hidden of all was his self under the cloak and cowl, and so my assumption that a body must have been holding them both up was then assuredly discarded. I was unable to copy his style, and after picking myself up each time, I plead, "Why do you ask me to move in such impossible ways which bones and skin prohibit?"
"The tempest," he replied. "The color. The unique color. Think on it. It was shown to you for a reason." I needed not close my eyes in that darkness but only imagine the chaotic orb of color from before. The crest of my difference from existence, the symbol of my strife to become something new, one who would ward off the Archer and protect life and being.
"I am deeply confused," I sighed hopelessly. "My dream, this Archer.. why did I see myself shatter in the white place? What does it all mean?" I saw the color in my mind, the twisting, pulsing sphere. I tried turning my thoughts but it remained fixed upon the fuming anarchy, and I wanted answers. It suddenly became excrutiatingly hot under my cloak, as if the blaze from my mind was real.
"And answers you shall have. Focus on it, Ri'jzirr. Look here," Before us both appeared a rectangular window through which our encounter within the mountain had taken place through my eyes. I heard our conversation and watched the Archer's arrows strike the man, and they were waved off carelessly into the black pit below. But something had changed - the new color had overlapped the center of the screen. It floated there before my sight, glaring and bright. "What does this mean?!" I asked.
"Focus, Ri'jzirr. Keep the color in your mind. Bones and skin will hold you back no further."
And then it came to me. The orb of color meant nothing, it was merely a symbol. It could have been anything; a goat, a chair or a box of chimps. It didn't have to make any sense, but it was the meaning that struck me then, watching it block my vision in the replay of our encounter. Afterwards, I felt deathly ill, sweltering and weak. The Elder woke me and told me I was to become one of the Order, deciphering my dream. The man knew the Elder. Impossible.
"ENOUGH!" I shouted with the force of the mightiest thunderclap and I opened my eyes. The window had closed and I turned to the man, the orb of color taking its place in the center of my enlightened gaze. I could not possibly have been able to reach such a volume normally, but I did not think on such trivial matters. I felt as if I'd risen to such a height, transcended in all ways beyond previous comprehension when I felt comprehension meant something. I could not explain it nor did I care to; I had become reborn. The ring of light appeared once more at my feet. Wisdom. I was new.
The hidden eyes of the Order turned to me at once and the man took one step backwards. "Fear?" I questioned knowingly. I positioned the orb afront his head and saw all clear as flawless crystal.
"No longer is it a surprise why I felt the need to seek your counsel during my sickness.. tell me, which of us has truly been the Elder all these years?"
--------------------
--------------------
He and I "trained" for some time. I am hesitant to use the word "trained" because, as with all non-existence, I was utterly oblivious as to how things actually worked there, and the "training" did not help much with that, but it is the most accurate word I can use. Normally, in Tamriel, each of my senses were sharply honed to my environment, which was usually the Jeralls. Here, I was nothing; equivalent to the blackness in which we perpetuously hung without place or reason.
"Are we here?" I asked the man at one point. My thoughts grew more profound and insightful, and so my questions mimicked the change.
"No," he replied in his ever-level tone, "we are our consciousnesses manifest, for such things exist not in the physical world, but only in the mind." I was satisfied with that.
He gave me instructions and I attempted to follow them. If he had seen enough of one exercise, he would call to me and I would be given something new. I was told to display my acrobatic abilities and those of combat. I was even allowed use of an axe and shield, my arms of highest proficiency. After each exhibition of my skills, the man and some others who watched nodded in synchrony, and he told me, always in the same words, "Acknowledged. Here is what you must do to defeat her," and he would take my weapon and move with it in such ways that fused harmony into both hostility and grace, layered in movements no solid body could possibly make. I knew little of him, and most hidden of all was his self under the cloak and cowl, and so my assumption that a body must have been holding them both up was then assuredly discarded. I was unable to copy his style, and after picking myself up each time, I plead, "Why do you ask me to move in such impossible ways which bones and skin prohibit?"
"The tempest," he replied. "The color. The unique color. Think on it. It was shown to you for a reason." I needed not close my eyes in that darkness but only imagine the chaotic orb of color from before. The crest of my difference from existence, the symbol of my strife to become something new, one who would ward off the Archer and protect life and being.
"I am deeply confused," I sighed hopelessly. "My dream, this Archer.. why did I see myself shatter in the white place? What does it all mean?" I saw the color in my mind, the twisting, pulsing sphere. I tried turning my thoughts but it remained fixed upon the fuming anarchy, and I wanted answers. It suddenly became excrutiatingly hot under my cloak, as if the blaze from my mind was real.
"And answers you shall have. Focus on it, Ri'jzirr. Look here," Before us both appeared a rectangular window through which our encounter within the mountain had taken place through my eyes. I heard our conversation and watched the Archer's arrows strike the man, and they were waved off carelessly into the black pit below. But something had changed - the new color had overlapped the center of the screen. It floated there before my sight, glaring and bright. "What does this mean?!" I asked.
"Focus, Ri'jzirr. Keep the color in your mind. Bones and skin will hold you back no further."
And then it came to me. The orb of color meant nothing, it was merely a symbol. It could have been anything; a goat, a chair or a box of chimps. It didn't have to make any sense, but it was the meaning that struck me then, watching it block my vision in the replay of our encounter. Afterwards, I felt deathly ill, sweltering and weak. The Elder woke me and told me I was to become one of the Order, deciphering my dream. The man knew the Elder. Impossible.
"ENOUGH!" I shouted with the force of the mightiest thunderclap and I opened my eyes. The window had closed and I turned to the man, the orb of color taking its place in the center of my enlightened gaze. I could not possibly have been able to reach such a volume normally, but I did not think on such trivial matters. I felt as if I'd risen to such a height, transcended in all ways beyond previous comprehension when I felt comprehension meant something. I could not explain it nor did I care to; I had become reborn. The ring of light appeared once more at my feet. Wisdom. I was new.
The hidden eyes of the Order turned to me at once and the man took one step backwards. "Fear?" I questioned knowingly. I positioned the orb afront his head and saw all clear as flawless crystal.
"No longer is it a surprise why I felt the need to seek your counsel during my sickness.. tell me, which of us has truly been the Elder all these years?"
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Very interesting method of training, I was hoping it would go some like what you did more mental than physical.
It'll be interesting to see what happens next.
It'll be interesting to see what happens next.
That orb, my symbol of difference, which appeared from nothing and for no discernable reason, held its place in the center of my vision and overlapping the man's cloaked head. It blocked my sight but I could see clearer than ever, magnifying what it hid in ways sight denied.
"Ri'jzirr, you have become all I had hoped you would."
The man lifted his sleeves and pulled back the cowl masking his face with invisible hands. My camps' Elder stood before me now, he and the man of the Order the same. My ears deafened, nose caved, skin died, and tongue flattened to rigid teeth. My senses left me and never returned, and my eyes blackened to all but the spherical chaos. I sank into my cloak's shadows and was Ri'jzirr no more. I was no more; Naught but the orb remained. It took me a moment to realize I was still capable of speech; reborn, I was as an infant, learning how to talk once more.
I forced the words, "I see the color and nothing more." I heard them but knew my ears were no longer there. I did not feel a mouth close nor a tongue manipulate the sound from my throat, and the impulse to blink had disappeared. All manner of mortal instinct had been displaced by the orb, as a glass bauble being dropped into a cask of water. The concept of language never entered my mind, but merely the need to express myself in a way which I knew the Elder would comprehend.
"You need not see, Ri'zjirr," replied the Elder in his voice. "Truly, you have been my Elder these past twenty years. You simply needed to be shown the light," and he held out his hand, displaying the orb. I knew this without watching, perfectly natural in understanding. "Behold," he exclaimed, "your.. new eye. Your Mind's Eye, from which all wisdom comes, to which all knowledge goes. It is your essence, your being without being, your life force without life. It is your paradox, that which is and is not; it is you now, Ri'jzirr. Its color a trespasser in existence, just as you are. Embrace it.. in senses you now reside."
It is impossible for anyone to properly explain just what I felt through the orb, but the past events from which my story began prodded my mind ever-obnoxiously, desperate to be unfolded and put into order. In an instant I collected them and saw their meaning as a completed puzzle:
It was a plan so perfect in its engineering and design, each molecule of every form of tangible matter in all of existence played an invaluable role in my coming into enlightenment there with the Elder in non-existence, the residence of The Anarchal Order. The supposed reason I was chosen to enter the cave in which the "ravenous creature" inhabited was due to the consideration of my past deeds. Throughout my life as a young warrior, I saved traveling merchants from bandits, fended off great beasts from defenseless children and the like. I saw then, through the impossible clarity of my Mind's Eye, each individual act of heroism was staged, and I emerged victorious time and time again for the sole purpose of convincing the camp's council that I was the most reasonable choice to send into the cavern - nothing more. My life's achievements were a path paved in time leading to the cloaked man that day.
The dream warned my steps but I met with the man on his icy throne. It was there so he may sit.. but why sit when you are a non-existent entity without the need to conserve physical energy? A question I asked myself then, and the answer came instantly - to pose the man as a higher form than my own, someone to respect and trust, to take orders from. Had he been a strange man in a cave, I would have been feared not to listen to his instructions and await him at the camp.
Of course, he did return, transporting me to non-existence. First, all went to grey, and I saw myself behind me shatter to pieces and fall. This was what I used to be, destroyed and making way for what I had become. Then blinding white, infinite wisdom, and finally blackest darkness, non-existence. All were metaphors and I lived them.. signs given to me, puzzle pieces and mysteries one after the other, until they at least fell into place before me, wrapped and burnt through clear by my Mind's Eye. Foreign and mesmerizing at first sight, its color was all I had never known, knowledge now available upon a whim as my new self.
With the past in order, I had decided then that it was a proper time to confront the Archer.. to see what her arrows did to me now.
--------------------
"Ri'jzirr, you have become all I had hoped you would."
The man lifted his sleeves and pulled back the cowl masking his face with invisible hands. My camps' Elder stood before me now, he and the man of the Order the same. My ears deafened, nose caved, skin died, and tongue flattened to rigid teeth. My senses left me and never returned, and my eyes blackened to all but the spherical chaos. I sank into my cloak's shadows and was Ri'jzirr no more. I was no more; Naught but the orb remained. It took me a moment to realize I was still capable of speech; reborn, I was as an infant, learning how to talk once more.
I forced the words, "I see the color and nothing more." I heard them but knew my ears were no longer there. I did not feel a mouth close nor a tongue manipulate the sound from my throat, and the impulse to blink had disappeared. All manner of mortal instinct had been displaced by the orb, as a glass bauble being dropped into a cask of water. The concept of language never entered my mind, but merely the need to express myself in a way which I knew the Elder would comprehend.
"You need not see, Ri'zjirr," replied the Elder in his voice. "Truly, you have been my Elder these past twenty years. You simply needed to be shown the light," and he held out his hand, displaying the orb. I knew this without watching, perfectly natural in understanding. "Behold," he exclaimed, "your.. new eye. Your Mind's Eye, from which all wisdom comes, to which all knowledge goes. It is your essence, your being without being, your life force without life. It is your paradox, that which is and is not; it is you now, Ri'jzirr. Its color a trespasser in existence, just as you are. Embrace it.. in senses you now reside."
It is impossible for anyone to properly explain just what I felt through the orb, but the past events from which my story began prodded my mind ever-obnoxiously, desperate to be unfolded and put into order. In an instant I collected them and saw their meaning as a completed puzzle:
It was a plan so perfect in its engineering and design, each molecule of every form of tangible matter in all of existence played an invaluable role in my coming into enlightenment there with the Elder in non-existence, the residence of The Anarchal Order. The supposed reason I was chosen to enter the cave in which the "ravenous creature" inhabited was due to the consideration of my past deeds. Throughout my life as a young warrior, I saved traveling merchants from bandits, fended off great beasts from defenseless children and the like. I saw then, through the impossible clarity of my Mind's Eye, each individual act of heroism was staged, and I emerged victorious time and time again for the sole purpose of convincing the camp's council that I was the most reasonable choice to send into the cavern - nothing more. My life's achievements were a path paved in time leading to the cloaked man that day.
The dream warned my steps but I met with the man on his icy throne. It was there so he may sit.. but why sit when you are a non-existent entity without the need to conserve physical energy? A question I asked myself then, and the answer came instantly - to pose the man as a higher form than my own, someone to respect and trust, to take orders from. Had he been a strange man in a cave, I would have been feared not to listen to his instructions and await him at the camp.
Of course, he did return, transporting me to non-existence. First, all went to grey, and I saw myself behind me shatter to pieces and fall. This was what I used to be, destroyed and making way for what I had become. Then blinding white, infinite wisdom, and finally blackest darkness, non-existence. All were metaphors and I lived them.. signs given to me, puzzle pieces and mysteries one after the other, until they at least fell into place before me, wrapped and burnt through clear by my Mind's Eye. Foreign and mesmerizing at first sight, its color was all I had never known, knowledge now available upon a whim as my new self.
With the past in order, I had decided then that it was a proper time to confront the Archer.. to see what her arrows did to me now.
--------------------
The pieces have started falling into place now with this update it seems. It's nice that even though it might take a bit of thinking to understand, it is still understandable.
It'll be interesting to see how this altercation between Ri'jzirr and the Archer. Perhaps she will speak and things will again not appear as they originally seemed to appear....
It'll be interesting to see how this altercation between Ri'jzirr and the Archer. Perhaps she will speak and things will again not appear as they originally seemed to appear....
I've decided to discontinue this train wreck as it is both too far-out and too complicated for what this forum is used to. Thanks for commenting.
I'm sorry to hear about that, as you are a talented writer and it would've been interesting to see a conclusion to this story. But the choice to continue this is totally up to you.
If you ever decide to reconsider your choice, I will glady keep reading this.
If you ever decide to reconsider your choice, I will glady keep reading this.
I am also sad to hear that you chose to discontinue this story. While I will admit to some difficulty following the plot, I have enjoyed that complexity and even started to look forward to it. If you change your mind, I'll be here.
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