Prologue

My name is Quick-Strike. I have done things so horrible, they haunt my dreams every night. The worst of which being when the Dark Brotherhood ordered me to kill the entire Matius family. The only survivor was Savilian Matius, but I killed his little girl and his wife. That poor little girl, she still haunts my dreams. It was her fifth birthday...

That day was the day I began my revolution. I had cut all ties I had with the Brotherhood and began my career as an assassin of the Nine. Hunting down daedric worshippers, criminals, and street-thugs. With a prayer in the Temple of Mara, I firmly gripped my steel shortsword and steel dagger and donned my black-leather uniform.

Suddenly behind me appeared a tall, black-haired orc. "You killed Marza Gra-Baliz," he hissed. "That was my daughter, you pig. For this you'll die."

With haste, I put my weapons in their scabbards and kicked him in the chest. "Please, I don't want to fight," I pleaded. "I seek no trouble." In his orcish rage he charged. My fist went flying into his face and he fell to the ground, his nose bloodied and he was unconscious.

I bent down and felt for a pulse. There was none. Suddenly, two imperial legion troopers came over to me. "Hey, what have you done to this man?" they asked. "He's dead!"

The other hissed, "You're under arrest, Swamp-Slime."

I slammed their heads together and bolted past them. "Joy," I thought. "My first day of being a noble person and I already killed a man and assaulted two guards." Blood was on my hands, so I wiped it on my outfit.

The streets of the Imperial City were crowded and I had to wade through the people. I was a wanted man and I needed to get out of town. As I turned to look around, a club hit my skull. The last thing I saw was an Imperial Legion Guard with a smile on his face. The last thing I heard was, "Enjoy your time in prison, Murkscum..."

After that I faded into the realm of unconsciousness.

WOOOOOOOOO HOOOOOOOOOOO !!!!!!!!!!! WOOOOOOOOOOOT !!!!!!!!!!

OBLIVION !!!!!!!!!!!!! WOOOOOOOOOT !!!!!!


Finally, Quickstrike and Zalphon in OBLIVION !!!!!!!!!!!! AWESOME !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm with mALX! This could be really good! WooHoo!

Do you mean 'Righteous' Assassin?

Your story and concept are good Zalphon, but it needs more description. Show, don't tell - we want to know about what he sees, hears, smells and feels not just what he does. For starters try adding more adjectives before your nouns, for example, how did Quick-strike kick that hapless orc in his chest? Was it swiftly? Was it powerfully? Acrobatically? It could of been a gentle toe-poke for all we know.

You've got the concept, now you need to set the scene a bit more.

Good work

Malx, this is before Zalphon and J'skooma. This is Quick-Strike after he left the Dark Brotherhood and began his atonement. J'skooma and Zalphon won't be around for a long time.

This is about twenty years before the Oblivion Crisis. You'll learn a lot about our scaly friend.

Chapter One: My Mentor

Prison. The gray-steel bars that held me in. Across from my cell was a dark elf. His long, silvery hair flowed to his shoulders and he had a goatee. Unlike me, he wore a suit of black-velvet clothing and at his side was an ebony shortsword on the other side was an ebony dagger. "How did you get all that?" I asked politely. "The guards must sure love you." Strapped to his back was a mandolin made of a black-wood with runes inscribed into it, they glowed a faint blue.

"The name is Korvan Broodikus," he chuckled. "To say the least, I am more-or-less ageless" His voice was raspy, yet charismatic. He bore a smile.

"How do we get out of here?" I questioned. "I've been to prison, and it's not fun."

"Like this," he shoved a lock-pick into the lock on his door and fiddled with it. A very quiet click could barely be heard and he gently opened the door. The Dunmer did the same with my door.

"Why?" I asked.

"Quick-Strike, I know who you are," he stated. "I know what you've done and what you'll do. Worry not, I'm a friend." The same click appeared from my door and it opened. Out of nowhere, he summoned a fine iron-and-wood chest.

Inside of it was my armor and I donned it hastily. Then the guards heard us. To say the least, this would get interesting. Their heavy platemail clanked as they moved, and their swords were ripped out of scabbards. Corporal Hieronymus Lex hissed, "Surrender, thieves."

The strange, intricate, dark elf smiled, "We'll see about that, Lex." He threw a dart into the guard's foot and threw some dust on the ground. Miraculously, we were in Bravil. A town of scum and villainy.

"Welcome to Bravil, the closest town to anarchy in all of Cyrodiil," he joyfully chuckled.

I grumbled sarcastically, "Joy..."

I like what you've created here. But there is one thing that got me wondering.

How can Quick-Strike see the runes glowing blue when the mandoline is strapped to the Elf's back.. in a cell opposite to Quick-Strike's??

I love it!!!!! This might be my fave story so far!!!!

Remko that was my fault (was a bit under the weather). And I'm sorry, but no new updates today. It's my 15th B-day.

Zalphon,

I have been remiss in commenting on your work of late because I never know how long a particular thread is going to last. That said, I thought I would drop in and give this one a read (as I have done to the three that preceded it) and a righteous critique. Before we begin let me stress that this is in no way meant to be a knock against your writing. I mean these words in only the most constructive of ways. You have some excellent and intriguing characters established with Zalphon, Quick-Strike, and J’Skooma, and I look forward to more adventures from them. So, in the interest of addressing matters of craft, let us begin:

Prologue

'My name is Quick-Strike.’

I am not alone in maintaining that you can tell a lot about a story from the opening sentence. This one is almost elementary in its simplicity. It is at once direct, boastful, and strangely apologetic (after all, it takes a special kind of individual to earn the name Quick-Strike). The rest of the paragraph goes a long way toward establishing him as a killer with a conscience. I will warn you to be careful of repetition; Quick-Strike tells us that he has done things so horrible, they haunt my dreams every night. After he tells us the worst thing, in the span of two sentences, he repeats himself: That poor little girl, she still haunts my dreams. That type of repetition takes away from what is otherwise a well-written first paragraph.

The second paragraph is where your impatience begins to show. I know that the temptation is great to ‘just get on with it’, but you have to respect your audience. Sure, you know exactly what’s going on, but most of the people wandering into your thread don’t. I have read and commented on your work before so I know that Quick-Strike is Argonian, but it would have been nice if you had informed the reader of that fact before he renounces the Brotherhood and takes up arms for the Nine. From what I know of the lore, Argonians who are taken into the Dark Brotherhood are almost always shadowscales from the province of Black Marsh. The Argonians of Black Marsh worship the Hist, so the fact that Quick-Strike renounces both his heritage and his religion is kind of a big deal and needs more than a throw-away sentence to deal with it. Having said that, I want you to know how much I like the idea of the Nine using assassins against daedra worshippers and the like.

With a prayer in the Temple of Mara, I firmly gripped my steel shortsword and steel dagger and donned my black leather uniform.

This sentence starts with a nice, clever way to tell us that he is in the city of Bravil (unless there’s another Temple of Mara somewhere that I don’t know about). But I need to point out to you that it’s pretty hard to don anything with a sword and dagger ‘firmly gripped’ in each hand. Also I should remind you of the fact that the implication is that, before donning the black leather uniform, he is praying in the Temple of Mara naked with a sword and dagger ‘firmly gripped’ (the imagination boggles at what Freud would have made of that).

Suddenly behind me appeared a tall, black-haired orc.

Suddenly, two Imperial soldiers came over to me.

This is another repetition that you need to be careful of. Remember, the difference between real life and fiction is that fiction has to make sense. ‘Suddenly’ appearing orcs and soldiers don’t make a whole lot of sense, especially in the Temple of Mara. Having the soldiers appear because they heard a disturbance in the Temple makes more sense, but even that just sounds like an excuse to get them there so Quick-Strike can slam their heads together. I should also point out the incongruity of Quick-Strike telling the orc that ‘I seek no trouble.’ He did kill the orc’s daughter, after all. Even on a good day I doubt that an orc would be that forgiving. I do like the way that you make Quick-Strike wipe the blood on his uniform. That is a nice, symbolic touch.

Remember I said that you told us in a very subtle and clever way that we were in the city of Bravil? Well, turns out I was wrong. Quick-Strike walks outside to find himself on the streets of the Imperial City. If you want to establish that there is a Temple of Mara in the Imperial City that’s fine, but you have to play fair with your audience. You have to tell us that, in your version of the IC, there is a Temple of Mara. Don’t just trust that we as readers will go along with it.

Finally (for this chapter) the Imperial Legion Guard who knocks Quick-Strike unconscious; was he one of the soldiers from the Temple? If not then it seems unlikely that he would take a club to Quick-Strike’s head on general principal (unless, of course, he is a recent transfer from Leyawiin ). I know that the game gives us psychic guards, but in fiction every action has to have a reason, preferably one that can be explained better than merely intuition.

Chapter One: My Mentor

I will give you the benefit of the doubt that the reasons behind Korvan possessing such high end weapons, clothing, and a black wood mandolin will be made clear as we go (although Remko poses a good question). My problem occurs with the first thing that Korvan says to Quick-Strike:

“The name is Korvan Broodikus,” he chuckled. “To say the least, I am more-or-less ageless.”

Once again I will give you the benefit of the doubt that there is a reason that Korvan speaks the way he does. We know that he is jovial, convivial, and charismatic by your description of him, but is he also barking mad? He speaks like a crazy person. There are no degrees of immortality. You are either ageless, or you aren’t. ‘More-or-less ageless’ is like being ‘more-or-less pregnant’. And if that is him ‘saying the least’, I shudder to imagine what other surprises he has in store.

I have to assume that Korvan is spending time in that jail cell just waiting for Quick-Strike to show up because, again, any reasonable person locked in a cell, fully armed and carrying a lockpick with which he is sufficiently skilled would not be stuck in that cell for long. The fact that he magically summons a chest with Quick-Strike’s belongings in it seems to bear out the fact that this meeting was not coincidence. I wonder if the guards even knew he was in the cell. For the third time, I am going to give you the benefit of the doubt.

To say the least, this would get interesting.

Here is another repetition to be careful of. ‘To say the least’ can be used in an ironic relaying of the facts, but use it too much and it’s almost like you can't be bothered to tell us more.

Miraculously, we were in Bravil. A town of scum and villainy.

The first thing that I want to know is how does a dart penetrate a platemail boot? Other than that, an ‘intricate’ dark elf is a confusing choice of word. I also thought that the teleportation spell was a bit abrupt, but I won’t hold your feet over the fire for that. I can also appreciate the tip of the cap to Mos Eisley. And it turns out that I wasn’t wrong after all, I was just premature. I knew that Quick-Strike would eventually get to Bravil.

To sum up you’ve got an interesting premise and an interesting character. All of your issues stem from impatience. Take your time with your updates. Illydoor has given you some excellent advice:


Above all, KEEP WRITING!!! You definitely have talent. Craft will come with practice. Patience is something that you must find within yourself. I hope this (overlong) critique is helpful to you.

And, oh yeah, Happy Birthday!

Korvan is a reference to previous stories as the grandson of Zalphon. He is a demi-god (not through birth, but through his actions).

He is a chaotic good bard who knows what Quick-Strike's future entails. Korvan is a bard. In my TES world, bards are spell-casting rogues. Due to his divine nature, a teleportation spell is quite simple. And he is fully armed and ready, because the guards have no clue he is there, due to his illusion magic.

Chapter Two: The Legend of the Ebon Assassin

I wandered the filthy streets of Bravil. Paupers, beggers, peasants, they all gathered around this one elderly imperial. The imperial dressed in frayed clothing and bore a ragged, white haircut. "There was once an assassin who fought for nobility and justice," he told. "Honor, virtue, and a general sense of good guided his every move."

The elderly man continued, "His foot-steps left Reverent Clerics and Oathsworn Priests astonished at his dedication. He fought the 'good fight.' The man wore clothing as black as night, but had a heart as pure as gold."

I noticed I was still in my black-leather outfit which had a long, black cloak. I put the hood up and asked, "Does this assassin still live?"

"Nay," the Imperial sighed. "An Altmeri Noble killed him long ago. At least what little he cared about. He was never heard from again."

"Hmmm," I pondered. "Perhaps I could avenge the Ebon Assassin's death and that would put me on at least apprehensive terms with the Nine once again." After that I continued walking and found my mentor stalking me.

"Quick-Strike," He stated. "I have recieved word of a Cult of Sheogorath in the South. And I can tell you this. The Ebon Assassin is just a story.

"What do you mean?" I questioned.

"The old man is a skooma addict, Quick-Strike," Korvan grumbled. "He is just trying to get your gold. I sometimes wonder how you survived in the Dark Brotherhood with your simplistic and naive ways."

"Korvan, I am still young. Very young in fact. Only five years ago did I lick the Hist and gain this body. Forgive me," I whispered. "I have failed you."

"Quick-Strike, when I first became a bard," the Dunmer chuckled. "I almost killed my mentor when I cast a fireball spell on accident. Worry not, for if you pay attention to my teachings... When I must go, you'll be fine without me."

"Thank you," I nodded. "I think..."

I grew more suspicious of the Bard, but thanked him nonetheless for his guidance. But then, he dissapeared. A dervish-looking Bosmer came over to me. "Hey Murk-Slime," he intimidated. "Give me your drakes or I can take them, and your life."

With a deep sigh, I gently pulled out my weapons...

Woo Hoo! Lucky you to get a critique by Destri !!!!!!

Chapter Three: Blood and Tears

I slashed at the Bosmer, who parried. "I'll kill you," he hissed. His eyes were like two burning coals. He fought with such finesse and talent, I thought he wasn't a thief, but a well-trained veteran of the Imperial Legion. In return, he thrusted at me, but dextrously I dodged.

"Please surrender," I pleaded as I stabbed at him. Then I noticed it. My shortsword was in his stomach. He fell to the ground and a pool of blood surrounded him. The red, semi-viscous fluid brought a tear to my eye.

He pulled me near and whispered, "I didn't want to..." Those were his last words. The high-pitched voice of the Bosmeri Thief was extinguished. Forever. Out of a run-down shack came a small Bosmer female.

"Daddy," she cried out as her arms clasped onto the corpse. "Why?"

Korvan appeared behind me and whispered, "'Twas not your fault, young Quick-Strike. He threatened your life and you replied justly. Just remember this, your actions affect more people than just you and the other person. This little girl just lost her father and her life will be forever changed..."

"Korvan?" I questioned. "Is this another of your many teachings?"

"One of them," he sighed. "If I taught you all the knowledge I had, your body would be carrion long ago due to old age."

The little girl looked at me and wimpered, "Y-Y-you killed my father. I'll never forgive you, Murk-Slime." With extreme agility, she stabbed me in the arm with her parent's blade. Due to the extreme guilt I felt, I walked away...

Well I hope he walked away! He wasn't going to kill the little girl! Great chapter Zalphon!

Chapter Four: The Red Dragon Tavern

Night was on the horizon and I knew what'd happen if I stayed in the streets. Of all the inns and taverns in Bravil I walked into the Red Dragon Tavern. It had a warm hearth that embers flickered out of into non-existance after touching the wooden floor. Five rooms each with a bed and the smell of rat-stew filled my nostrils.

The Innkeeper wore a long, blue skirt and a blue, long-sleeved shirt. She was a high elf with golden skin and pyrite hair. Her eyes scanned me up and down, she was young in body, but I could tell she was old in age. Near her was a young breton adolescent. She wore a loincloth, a brasierre, slave bracers, and a rope that served as a leash around her neck. Her hair was chocolate-brown and she was as pale as could be.

In the corner was a man with a black-cloak's hood up and black-leather armor similar to my own. "Innkeep, how much for a room?" I asked politely.

"With Evangeline," she said. "fifteen septims, without ten septims."

"I'll have her come with me," I stated as I pulled out fifteen septims. I laid them on the counter and the Breton handed me the end of her leash.

When we got to my room, I closed the door and whispered, "Why do you stay here?"

"I'm a sla--indentured servant. If I even attempt to leave, my master will have me killed," she wimpered. Tears ran down her face, her oceanic-blue eyes were wet.

"Who is the son of a scamp?" I questioned. "No one deserves to be a slave. I used to be one, to a man named Alu'Kar Broodikus, however he died a long time ago."

"We know him as, Kristopher Dren," Evangeline said at a barely audible volume.

"Kristopher Dren?" I asked. "The Lord of Bravil? Lord Kristopher Dren?"

"The one and only," she nervously responded. "Please, don't."

I drank from a vial of sleeping poison. Due to my heritage, it had absolutely no affect on me. She glanced at me as I drank from the bottle of 'Cyrodiilic Brandy.' I kissed her on the lips and instantaneously Evangeline was asleep. With my dextrous skill I crawled out the window into the night.

Lord Kristopher Dren was going to die, tonight. Slavery is one of the few things I've never been able to tolerate. I haven't before, nor will I start now...

Woo Hoo !!! Kissed her on the lips to give her sleeping potion - Woo Hoo !!!!!!

Quick-Strike is a smart fellow. And besides, she is a prostitute. She may have just thought he was getting his money's worth

ROFL !!!!

This above is usually the gripe I have with your stories. This should have been made clear in the story. Not by telling us afterwards like you tend to. I know you don't mean to but this way it feels a bit like an excuse.

Keep up the good works and take your time, like Destri said.

As a sidenote; There is no such thing as semi-viscous. Viscosity is a way of expressing how thick (or thin) a ceretain fluid is, usually with oils.


This sentence is really confusing. Maybe more like this?
It had a warm hearth with embers flickering out of existence once they hit the wooden floor. The Inn consisted of five rooms, each with a bed. Below, the smell of rat stew filled my nostrils.

The way you wrote it, it seemed as though the five rooms each with a bed filled his nostrils. Kinda painful if you ask me

First I'll comment on your story before I get into a certain....issue that I have with your comment below. Your story isn't bad, a little fast and the chapters are short, but not bad. I have some nits regarding Chapter 3.

I slashed at the Bosmer, who parried. "I'll kill you," he hissed. His eyes were like two burning coals. He fought with such finesse and talent, I thought he wasn't a thief, but a well-trained veteran of the Imperial Legion. In return, he thrusted at me, but dextrously I dodged.

Thrusted isn't a word. Just use thrust, since apparently it can be used in all tenses. A better option would be to use an entirely different word, like stabbed or the best lunged. Also, I think you meant to type dexterously. I also feel like a better word could have been used, like deftly or nimbly

Then, after Quick-Strike murders the Bosmer, his daughter comes crying out. And what's Quick-Strike do? Has a short conversation with Korvan, then gets stabbed in the arm.

....

Did he feel any pain?


Umm....Divinty in the Aurbis doesn't work that way. In the TES universe, there is a set of dieties (and the daedric princes) and that's it. Of course, there are other pantheons, but everything overlaps. Alduin the World-Eater is Auri-El who is Akatosh who is Alkosh, King of Cats, who is Tosh Raka.

It gets weirder, too, when you take into account the Anuic and Padomaic lines, and that the Et'Ada (who aren't alive anymore having become the Earth-Bones), and the Daedra, are actually planets. And then you factor in the God-Head and how it fits into everything...And your mind explodes.

To put it bluntly, there are no "demi-gods" in Aurbis/TES Universe. A few things pass as demi-gods here, but they really aren't. The Tribunal stole their powers from the Heart of Lorkhan, and Tiber Septim only mantled Shezaar and supplanted that diety in the overall pantheon, and he had CHIM. Wulfharth/Zurin Arctus/the Underking was only an avatar of Lorkhan. There is a good chance Pelinal was actually a ROBOT from the future. Morihaus was not a man, but the Bull of Heaven (in the archetypical sense). Reman was the personification of Cyrodiil itself.

So Korvan being a demi-god doesn't really fit into the overall mythology of TES. There are plenty of other things he could be, like an avatar, but since he's a grandson of Zalphon, then the entire character just doesn't make any sense to me. He could be mantling, but that takes a very special, mythic person like Talos.


Yeah, like Remko said, this probably should have been apparent in the story. Not handwaved later.

*sigh* I never could write a story to please everyone... I'm not quite the lore-buff you are Verlox...

I think I'm going to stop writing for a while. It's not fun when every move you make is nit-picked. I do this for fun, not so you guys can dissect it and look for the most minute of errors.

Being a good critic is extremely nice. You guys are good at that. But I do like some of the good to be brought up too. Chriso of Bethesda always was an intense critic, but he remarked on my improvement and my strongpoints. You just take low-points and nothing else.

If you beat somebody down, repeatedly and never throw them a bone, they get irritated. Eventually the irritation turns to frustration... Frustration turns to hatred of the art in general... But in conclusion, I'm taking a break. For how long, I do not know... Could be a day, a week, a month... I'm not quite sure...

Aw Zalphon! But you just got into Cyrodiil!!!!! ARGH !!!!!!!! I was really looking forward to a venue I recognized !!!! ARGH !!!! You know I've always got your back Zalphon. I just love your creative mind and think you ROCK!!! <333

I'll be back, but the original trio will be retired. Too many problems with lore. However, they'll be at least remembered by the populace. The mere mention of the name, "Zalphon" will leave people in fear. The mention of "J'skooma" will inspire a respectful nod. The mention of "Quick-Strike" will most likely earn, "May he rest in peace."

Ok, enjoyed this story to date. Sad to see it discontinued. I understand what you are saying.

When you rest up some and start again (I know you will, ) you might consider an intro at the beginning of your story that lays out your purpose and objectives. You can certainly make it clear where you want to draw lines between 'reality' and the mechanics in game. Similarly with lore; if you wanted to set the story in Lut Golein you could - just make sure and tell people what your intent is. If you want to follow in game quest lines strictly or loosely or not at all, any of that is fine, but it may help to clarify things up front and ask for the type of critiquing that you would like. For example if you don't want typos pointed out, you can certainly ask for that.

I know you appreciate comments, but yes, they can sometimes be a double-edged sword. Please take some comfort in the fact that anyone who comments does so primarily because they care enough about you to take the time to do so.

Rest up, my friend and we will look forward to your return!

Thanks Acadian, you really know me since you know I'll return soon. I am almost sad to retire my trio. But they will always have a special place in my stories. Even though they were mainly an Elder Scrolls group, in my novel there will be an Aqueean Rogue and a Tigran Wizard waiting to make an appearance

Edit: Any critiqueing is good, just please be generous enough to leave a good comment too.

Not....not getting rid of Zalphon? GAAAAAAAAAH !!!!!!!!!

The days of Zalphon must come to an end. It's best to let them die a noble death then allow them to fizzle out.

The new trio, well, you'll like them just as much

Aww, it's always sad to see your characters 'die', y'know? Hopefully, the next trio would make up from that, huh?

Oh, and like mALX said, I also got your back, bro.

Sorry to say this, but Pelinal Whitestrake being a ROBOT actually made me laugh. You are right in all accounts, but Tosh Raka being Akatosh... D

Where did you get this bit of info, Verlox? I wanna see it myself and question whoever made this. Curious, is all.

We have a giant stompy robot that can break reality and time, is it really so odd to have a smaller robot that shoots lasers? Of course, another way to look at is that Pelinal is an avatar of Lorkhan.

Look on the Bethesda lore forum for more information regarding Akavir being a "myth-echo" of Tamriel. There was a discussion on it awhile back, but you could probably start your own topic to ask.

To give some extra information: Tosh Raka. The Tsaeci, once the dominant power on Akavir, were supplanted by the Ka'Po'Tun, which mirriors the Aldmer being supplanted by men as the greatest power on Tamriel.

Tosh Raka being Akatosh: A slightly better view is that Tosh Raka is Akavir's version of Tiber Septim, but instead of mantling Lorkhan/Shezzar, he mantles Akatosh.

Ok, since this is getting a little bit OOC and don't want to ruin this piece of thread, I'll check it out. Thanks.