Hey guys, this is a first attempt at a fan fiction from a novice writer, your reviews are greatly appreciated, whether positive or not. I will post the prologue now, and update the first chapter within two days.
Prologue History behind the History
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It’s hard to believe how much time can change us if given the chance. While I patiently wait for my apprentice to successfully concoct a “Rising force potion,” I take great pleasure in remembering my history; a simpler time before I was given names such as “Amalas the Great,” or “Amalas the Heretic,” and my personal favorite “Amalas the Nerevar.” Back then I was simply Amalas Strange, a simple dunmer who happened to be the right person in the wrong place
I was luckily never given the displeasure of meeting my parents in my adulthood. As a young child I fancied playing the thought that my father had been a noble knight who died in battle, and my mother was a beautiful noblewoman that could not take care of me for some strange reason. To be honest, I could not have been farther from the truth. My father was a simple alchemist by the name of Segundus Strange and my mother had been a lowly magician. From reading early articles of The Black Horse Courier, (where his ludicrous ideas and reports were often top pages) I deduced that my father had been a brilliant alchemist, (having written reports that apprentice alchemist must now traditionally study) but his absent mindedness and anti-social personality refrained him from being great. Unfortunately my mother had no such talent, she was just a third rate magician who struggled to cast the simplest spells. She made up for her lack of talent however, by using her charm and looks to advance in the mages guild.
The joining of my father and mother was by no means a romantic one; in fact it was the complete opposite. My mother caught his eye one day when she tried to buy a simple potion for a disease she caught while attempting to practice her destruction magic on sewer rats. Lovesick and alone, my father used a method that even I am not proud of…he concocted a love potion that would make her fall head over heels for the first man she saw. Naturally the potion worked, and I was born nine months later in this unnatural relationship.
Two years later, my father would meet his untimely demise by the face of a potion. Having been an alchemist, he brewed wide varieties of potions and of course poisons which he sold frequently. Unluckily for him, he was a clumsy man and one day he mislabeled a poison as a potion, which he subsequently sold to an important politician and who of course, died. He was then quickly incarcerated and after a trial that lasted a total of five minutes, (a personal best for dunmers) he was ordered to death by hanging. Apparently the love potion father made was strong enough to make mother mourn his death and consequently commit suicide.
When the imperial guards came to repossess my father’s belongings two days later, (murders apparently had all their goods repossessed in the name of the emperor.) they found me, an abandoned and half starved dunmer. I was given to the local orphanage, and two weeks later a nord couple from Bravil agreed to adopt me.
The nords lived in a small shack on the far end of Bravil. I later found out they only adopted me for “income” they obtained for housing an orphan, money they desperately needed to pay off the gambling debts they accumulated and of course their occasional skooma hits. While the empire stated that they have banned the act of slavery, in reality they only banned the name, as long as they didn’t publicly call me a slave, they could do whatever they want with me; something even those dumb nords knew. My living accommodations included a towel on the floor and some leftover food not worthy of a dog.
Unfortunately for a child in Bravil, being able to fight was the determining factor on whether or not you could walk home with a loaf of bread in your hand. I learned how to use my fist relatively quickly, and often resorted to using them. This however, gave me a reputation of being a bully and I was subsequently beaten for it by my drug addict family. Not only that, the children subsequently rejected me and I was forced to live my childhood alone and beaten.
On the eve of my 15th birthday, I finally realized my power. Starved and poor, I attempted to steal a loaf of bread from a baker, notice the word “attempted.” Apparently I am not as sneaky as I thought, for I was caught right as my finger touched the bread. I tried to run with the loaf in hand, but the guards were simply better trained and fed. I quickly ran into a corner and cringed at the thought of being caught by the guards; that was when I realized my power. The guards were right in front of me, yet they couldn’t SEE me, it was as if I was invisible. I wondered if they were just playing dumb to further humiliate my capture, but when I looked down I noticed my body was…transparent. The guards quickly lost interest of me and returned to their post, while I ate my bread wondering how I did that.
When I returned home it was early morning and I noticed father wobbling and red-faced, a clear indication that he was drunk…again. He wobbled towards me and asked where I had been, which was followed by a rough punch to the face. Tasting blood, I silently got up and tried to walk around him.
“I said where have you BEEN!” another punch.
Feeling dizzy I tried my best to stand up, but I was almost as wobbly as him and quickly fell down. I got up on the second attempt, and I felt new emotions, anger and pride. Whether they arose from my newly awaked powers, or that my dunmer pride was finally manifested, I do know. As he walked towards me to give me a beating, I quickly picked up a knife and…well you can guess what happened. After the deed was done, I felt no remorse for my action; he had robbed me of the only thing that I had ever been entitled to, my freedom.
As I sat there observing my handiwork, my mother entered the house and almost immediately gave a terrible scream. I was quickly brought back to life and realized I could NOT get caught, what’s the point of killing a man for your freedom when your just going to go to jail for it? I heard guards rushing towards our house, and I knew my only chance of escaping was to use my “power” again, but it was no use. The guards saw the murdered man; shook there heads, and quickly arrested me for murder.