I have never seen Sibylla drawn out in any fic before - you have given me a totally different outlook on her - reading this tempts me to pop into the cave when I am NOT on a DB quest to see if she is friendly when not being attacked !!! Awesome characterization !!!

I am excited about the spirit guide Equine! (especially providing a horse for him!) SubRosa added spirit guide "Fox" to her story - a thrilling addition - intriguing to me because I knew nothing about them and wanted to learn more instantly !! AWESOME WRITE, TK !!!

I really enjoyed the interaction between Faith and Derelas in the latter part of the chapter. It rang true as two people thrown together by chance learn bits and pieces about each other. The hint of Faith's background is tantalizing while explaining some more things about her character, flaws and all. And Derelas is so charming as he struggles so hard with being a typical clueless male. I like that they have just enough respect for each other to listen to each other. It makes me want to see a romance blossom between them.

“Your spirit guide; every Bosmer has one.” She explained, “Usually they take the form of an animal such as a raven or lion, but you can occasionally find a few with a human guide, though they are rare.”

Great to see Sibylla as a real person! I really enjoyed her way of speaking.

Faith and Derelas bickering as they walked through the woods sounded very natural. As did the blush and hand clasp at the end.

Though rather small, their deep steel-blue complexion shone through the lush green grass with the rippling sheen of a small pond.
I must be spending too much time with an Atronach sign. I even got a thrill when I saw these in Derelas’ story!

Having Equine available for a silent chat or a sudden manifestation should be very rewarding. He already has a lot of personality!

I second the others who said that they enjoy the speech patterns and word choices of Sibylla. They instantly make her stand out as unique.

Faith's storming off was nicely done, along with the frustration and skepticism that led her there. They give her depth and feeling. Likewise with her later semi-rant and tears. You make it clear that she has a history, and a bad one.

give a cliffracer’s beak about it.
A wonderful setting-friendly phrase!



nits:
You forget I’m not a druid, like you obviously are with your city-slicking ways
This seemed incongruous. Usually the term druid makes one think of a wilderness holy person (although historically they were much more than that), making it feel strange to link that with the city remark.

I always thought that Sibylla deserved a bit more background in the game. You get to have some dialog with her siblings to help you decide if you like them or not (even if it's just [SNORT] from Matthius), but she's already decided to hate you before you reach her in all the games I've played. But that quest is the least comprehensible of the whole DB line, anyway. All the others have some hint of who might benefit from the murders. The only theory I ever came up with was that the DB wanted Applewatch.

I assume that spiders are added by a mod I don't run. Her cave's always full of mountain lions for me. I think the bears are leveled and everyone gets those, so they're a good choice for her favorite.

Faith continues to be an enigma, of course, and you're revealling her at just the right pace to keep this story going for a long time. Want more!

This was lovely! I'm delighted how you seem to be developing Derelas and Faith. Initially, Faith seemed a touch overbearing, but it is nice to see Derelas coming into his own, and some vulnerability in Faith. The interaction between the two is a joy to read, and singing perfectly with just the right amount of sparks, give and take.

Sibylla's manner of speech continues to be delightful. It would be tough I imagine to maintain for a primary character, but is such a treat in a supporting character as she seems to be.

We get to meet Equine! Magically done! I loved how Derelas got a touch confused in speaking aloud unintentionally to Equine. An easy mistake to make when you have a voice in your head!

This is not a nit, but a tiny suggestion I humbly submit for your consideration:
'Sibylla eyed her with detest at her words.'
Repetition in close proximity is always a challenge during edits. The more minor the word is (her and he are very minor words for example), the less noticeable it is. Nevertheless, I did happen to note it and couldn't help wondering if something as simple as this would help: 'Sibylla eyed the Dunmer with detest at her words'.

@mALX: Unfortunately, Sibylla is always aggressive in game (her aggression is set to 80 if you look up her stats). You can talk to her if you get her disposition high enough and cast a few calming spells, but she has no unique dialogue. She is just one of hopefully many generic NPCs in this story that I shall make unique.

@rider: If we start speculating who Dere gets to romance in this story, heads are going to start rolling. Seeing what mALX and 'Rosa were up to in Julian's thread was dirty enough for me. I am glad you have become attached to the twosome, though, because their adventures are far from over.

@Grits: I always like to hear that about my dialogue! I put a pretty big effort into making sure it flows well together and sounds like two people really talking to each other.

@Rosa: I think you missed the sarcasm in that sentence. I know perfectly well that it was incongruous, but that's only if you take it literally. If you add in a sarcastic tone, it makes a lot more sense. Still, sarcasm is difficult to convey in text, so I've made it a bit more obvious.

@Ghastley: Martigen's Monster Mod be the one. I'm running OOO+MMM on my game, so a lot of my dungeons get re-populated with more diverse creatures.

@Acadian: Indeed, if this were a story about her, it would get pretty hard to maintain that speech pattern. I do like to imbibe my side characters with mountains of personality, but keep it rather subdued for the main characters. This way, I can demonstrate the protagonist's personality over a longer stretch of time, instead of right off the bat as I do with supporting cast.
I took your suggestion, as I try to maintain a broad vocabulary across chapters.

@all: If any are wondering, this is how I envisioned Equine's avatar. It was rather hastily taken, so please excuse him being shadowed, but you get the idea.

next: A climax in retrospect...






Exhausted, out of breath, and shivering head to foot, we slid through the capacious stone archway. As we entered, the last blood-tinted rays of sunlight disappeared through what few holes in the dense canopy they could be seen. The forest was now plunged into a darkness so complete you would struggle to see your hand before your face. Not even the crickets sang to the white-speckled sky within these woods.

“What a day, don’t you think?” I asked, directing my eyes to the Dunmer who was now lighting a torch for us to see by. She had sunk to her knees again, though this time out of sheer exhaustion rather than frustration.

“I know,” she replied, returning to her feet. The small flame she had conjured to her hand had once again done its job, and the ruined tower was now bathed in flickering orange light. “Giants…. Of all the places in Tamriel… giants here? Wouldn’t they have a hard enough time with that mess of a canopy?”




----




“We turn southeast at this clearing and keep in that direction until we reach a large tower,” I told Faith in response to her question, removing my map. Faith mirrored my motion, only she held a compass in her hand when she finished.

“That way,” she said, pointing towards the nondescript wall of trees present on all sides.

“Handy you have that,” I remarked, folding the map and returning it to my rucksack, “this place looks like it would be ridiculously easy to lose yourself in.”

“And it is,” Faith added, “almost everyone who ventures here never finds his way out again. You’re going about the mages guild right?” She then asked.

“Yes, why?”

“You might want to ask about getting that map enchanted,” Faith replied. “They have some useful navigation spells they could place on that thing.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I told Faith truthfully. “Shall we get moving?”

“Yeh… wait, what’s that?” Faith stopped short of her initial reply with a question I was beginning to dread. The now very familiar sound of thundering footfalls were thudding in our direction. However, this time it was coupled with a new rumbling… voices, maybe? Strange, I didn’t know trolls could speak.

Before we could get our bearings and retreat to the shelter of the yews, we noticed two of the trees before us ominously bending apart, as if something were pushing them aside. After several seconds, something did indeed push them aside, leaving several roots hanging limply in the air in his wake. It could only be described as the largest man I’d ever seen, easily dwarfing three Nords stacked on each other’s shoulders. But there was something not quite human about him. His skin was tinged green and his hair and beard looked like he had giant tufts of moss growing from his head.




----




“I really do hope there aren’t more out there, they could probably crash through these walls easily.” I added. From what I could make out from the light of Faith’s torch, this place had definitely seen better days. The walls were of the same yellowing stone I had seen at the ruins of Fort Nikel. The gray mortar was crumbling away in so many places it was a wonder to me this place was still standing. Further investigation revealed a flight of stairs nearby.

“Hey,” I caught Faith’s attention, “over there. We should probably get to high ground, might be safer.”

“Good idea,” Faith agreed, steering her feet for the crumbling, but still usable steps. Up one flight, then another, and we reached the second floor of the tower. It was similar to the first, but not alike. For one, the floor was not of soil and grass, but of stone and gravel. By the torchlight, I could see a portion of floor to our right had fallen away, and had long since been reclaimed by nature. Opposite the stairwell, there was a small alcove containing stacked crates and barrels.

“We could set up in there,” I told Faith, pointing toward the alcove. “Perhaps use some of that wood for a proper fire.”

“You don’t think someone lives here, do you?” Faith inquired, eying the alcove with hesitation. “I don’t think he would be too happy if he found his pantry destroyed.”

“I don’t think so, I didn’t see an entrance other than the one we used,” I replied. “Besides, who would want to live in this crumbling hulk?”

“I’ve known a few mages to,” Faith revealed, “but I actually think you’re right, this place looks pretty abandoned. Let’s check the contents of those crates just to be sure.”

We made our way to the small, cluttered room and proceeded to try the lid of one of the crates. It came off without a fuss, and was completely empty. The two barrels I then checked shared the contents of the crate.

“Huh,” Faith suddenly voiced, a perplexing tone reaching my ears. “Look at this.”

She tipped a small sack on its side, and out rolled a collection of fruits and cheeses. The strange thing was, they were completely unspoiled, albeit quite dusty.




----




“Blue mushrooms… Urg want blue mushrooms,” he pandered, completely oblivious to the fact he wasn’t alone. He was too busy staring at the ground. I then looked down, and noticed the large tuft of blue mushrooms right beside my feet. I gave Faith an alarmed look, one which she returned. We both began shifting as quietly as we could away from the mushrooms.

“Soft, round, fleshy mushrooms… Urg like. Make Urg feel warm inside.”

*SNAP*

I closed my eyes in frustration; I had trodden on a stick. The giant who called himself Urg then snapped his gaze our way. We froze…

“Humans? Urg like humans…”

His eyes then shifted to Faith, and then bulged out of his skull.

“Human! With soft, fleshy mushrooms! Urg like! Make Urg feel warm inside! Urg want to eat! Urg Hungry!”

“MOVE!” Faith cried out to me, making a beeline for the forest. As she dashed away, I couldn’t help but notice the purple flush building in her cheeks….



----




After cutting into the fruit to ensure there was no rot inside, they became our dinner. Faith had also discovered a small chest, which contained the last vestiges of pillaged wealth within its iron bands. The grand total was two Septims and a small gemstone for each of us. We now sat in the warm embrace of a small fire constructed from wood fragments from the various abandoned barrels. We were watching the identically glowing silhouette of Masser pass across the gaping hole atop the tower; the first sight of a moon in days.

“I love the moonlight,” Faith commented airily, her eyes fixed on the orange sphere.

“Shadowborn through and through,” I replied, taking my eyes away from the starburst sky.

“You remembered?” Faith then asked, bringing her eyes to meet mine. “I’m surprised, most try to forget people like me. They always dismiss my sign as ‘Criminal’ and ‘the Lowlife Sign’. They seem to think that being Shadowborn makes you a thief or a night-stalker.”

“Shame they can’t see anything but the surface of the sea,” I mused. “I did used to think you were the latter, but, that was before we met Sibylla.”

Faith’s faintly touched expression then became fixed and rigid. I knew she hated the woman, but this was a point I felt I had to make.

“She showed me my guide, and you know what he told me?”

“What?” Faith asked, slightly more aggressively than I would have like, but understandably so.

“That you were neither thief nor night-stalker.” I answered, causing Faith’s expression to clear slightly, though it still remained rather hard.

“Really?” She pressed, “And so he, by what you said at least, just tried to kill me for fun?”

“He didn’t try to kill you, he was just a bit annoyed you brushed him off so rudely.” I replied, watching the last vestiges of hardness slide from Faith’s ashen features.



----




“By the Gods,” Faith voiced breathlessly behind me. We had hit rock bottom, quite literally. We were surrounded by cliff faces on all sides, with the looming figure of the giant closing. Our frantic path had taken us into one of the many confused gorges throughout the woods, but we had to have taken a wrong turn somewhere. Now we were trapped, and about to be crushed by the half a tree the giant was wielding.

The telltale swish of an arrow swung my gaze backward. Faith had her bow in hand and was nocking another arrow when a loud roar sounded. She had hit the giant in the leg, but even with the arrow buried halfway in, he did not seem anything if not simply angered by her attack. With another bellow, he swung his tree-turned-club high into the air, ready to crush both of us under his mighty blow.

“Beluam Placet!”

At my words, a surge of bright green light left my fingertips and encircled the monstrous humanoid. Struck dumb, he blinked stupidly around the canyon, then slowly lowered his club and yawned widely.

Another swish later, and he was on the ground, another arrow penetrating his skull through his mouth.

“That,” came Faith’s quiet voice, and I turned around to see her on her knees, shivering as though she had been teleported to Skyrim, “was close.”

I remained silent. I was too caught up in what had just happened. I don’t know how, but I had apparently calmed the giant. I don’t know what made me think of doing it, the spell just came to me of its own volition. I didn’t even know what kind of spell it was. I knew it was from the school of Illusion be the green light, but I had only ever used such magic to light my way home when it got too dark to see.

“Lucky you think so fast,” Faith continued, gingerly making her way to the enormous corpse. “If you had given him one more second, that would have been the end for us.”

“Yeah… sure.” I replied slowly, still bemusedly staring at my hands. As Faith got to work retrieving her arrows, I couldn’t help but wonder if a certain spirit might have had a hand in it.



----




“Never knew giants could be so rich, though.” I said, examining the contents of a large bag I had removed from my rucksack. Money, gemstones, and a faintly glowing ring had made it inside. I wasn’t sure what it did, but I could always get it appraised when I arrived in Bravil. This wealth was along with an object wrapped in a damp, red cloth that I knew to be the heart. Again, I was unsure of the value, but Faith had said it would fetch a shiny Septim from an alchemist.

“You’d be surprised,” Faith replied, “They love shiny objects. By the way, how did you think of that calming spell?” She then asked. I silently groaned inside, this was one question I didn’t have the answer to. I did finally figure out what kind of magic I used, though, so that was a plus.

“I honestly don’t know,” I explained, trying desperately to keep my gaze fixed on her as I spoke. “It just… came to me. I never even thought I knew how to calm a creature until today.”

“Well, you do have your Beast Tongue. Maybe it manifested from that?” Faith mused. “Are you sure you didn’t use your racial power?”

“I’m sure, the day hadn’t passed fully at the time. I can only use it once a day like anyone else.” I replied. “Besides, I didn’t actually voice the power when we met Teddy, I just cast it as a panic reaction.”

“Oh, really?” Faith asked, unconvinced with my argument. “You’d be surprised what you can do when instinct catches you right. It’s no tall tale that Man and Mer are capable of extraordinary feats when their lives are at risk.”

“So you think that my racial powers found a different way to manifest?” I asked her back.

“You have a soothing aura about you,” Faith answered. “You can bring peace even to the most aggressive of beasts around. Your Tongue is just one of the means for you to deliver. Dare I say it, but you give yourself far too little credit. We wouldn’t have made it past Teddy if it weren’t for you being there. Panic reaction or not, you knew exactly what to do.”

Her answer surprised me and warmed my heart. She had done a very good job of hiding the gratitude which she was now making known.

“I’m sure the Bravil mages can sort that out for you, so let’s concentrate on getting out of here before we keep speculating,” Faith then finished, burying herself in her bedroll.

“Do you think we will? We nearly died today.”

“Just trust in yourself, Dere,” Faith responded woozily. “That’s all we need now. So long as you do, I don’t think we’ll find a way out, I know we will.”

With that, I entered my own bedroll feeling as if the flames crackling beside me had flooded my body. Perhaps this hardened forester asleep beside really was warming up to me?

______________________________________________________________

Post Script: Derelas shouted in Latin. I will explain why later, but this is part of how I envision spellcasting in the game. Literally translated it means "Beast be calm!"

My PC blackscreened this morning with nothing open but the Email. Now it keeps blue-screening, so I am on and off of here. I'm doing a system restore and see if that helps (by the way, I noticed you had that as an icon on your desktop !!! What a great idea for any Hewlett-Packard junky pieces of crap owners out there - like me. )

Anyway, I don't want to read your chapter in spurts while I am cursing my PC, but as soon as I get it stabilized I'll be over and read - great chapter lead-in, lol.

It gets more and more interesting.

I had to laugh at Urg's dialogue. The only thing missing was "Fee Fie Fo Fum . . .!"

And the relationship between Derelas and Faith progresses. It's actually okay by me if they don't grow into a romantic pair. I get quite tired of seeing every male-female pair (where both are straight) become a romantic pair in fiction. It's possible IRL for a man and a woman (both straight) to have a good, friendly relationship without throwing - umm - benefits into the mix. In some relationships, benefits tend to screw up a good friendship, anyway!

Okey dokey, I'm getting off my soapbox here. Back to your story. Latin works as the language of magic, and if you're happy with it, that's great. There's plenty of other little-known languages that can be useful for incantations, as well.

The interspersing of the past and present is well done and well paced here as well. It had a natural flow and rhythm that kept it from being too jarring. Good job!

A very interesting way to tell the episode, going back and forth from the giant to the ruin. But it paid off, as you kept the excitement going throughout the piece with every flash back to the giant.

“Human! With soft, fleshy mushrooms! Urg like! Make Urg feel warm inside! Urg want to eat! Urg Hungry!”
Mmmmm, humans... Too bad there are only elves around!

Struck dumb,
Somehow I don't think that was very difficult to do, given the subject...

Your Tongue is just one of the means for you to deliver.
Can't wait to see what Foxy will make of that line...



nits:
Exhausted, out of breath, and shivering head to foot, we slid through the capacious stone archway as the last blood-tinted rays of sunlight disappeared through what few holes in the dense canopy they could be seen.
This is one really long sentence. You might consider breaking it up into two.

TK, I'm coming back tomorrow to read - too tense tonight after the crashing of the PC all day - and just now my pup got her conehead collar stuck between her upper and lower jaw, then came inside after I took it off and bit a cord that was plugged in. I don't think I could absorb anything tonight but a tylenol. TOO STRESSED !!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PIb6AZdTr-A



*

Urg! Find giant. Run from giant. Immobilize giant. Shoot giant in mouth. Giant fall down. Works for me!

Derelas and Faith are working well together, and neither one peed their greaves it seems. I'm glad to see the Dunmer beginning to appreciate the Bosmer.

Lucky thing for Dere he wasn't traveling with Sigrid when he ran across Urg !! - Talk about mushrooms! lol.



One of the things the email copy of your chapter did was remove the font changes - without the italics in place I was struggling to understand the order - thankfully, coming here and reading it fixed that, lol.

In spite of the flight and fight with the giant Urg, this chapter had a relaxing feel, the conversations between Faith and Dere were quiet; coming to learn and accept the things about each other that are different - the kind of conversations that are easily pictured between two people traveling through the wilderness and sleeping out in the open air .. quiet ones. (with the exception of Faith's ever present quick temper)

Great chapter, you have a knack for setting moods in your chapters !!

I then looked down, and noticed the large tuft of blue mushrooms right beside my feet. I gave Faith an alarmed look, one which she returned. We both began shifting as quietly as we could away from the mushrooms.

Oh my gosh, this was perfect! Those mushrooms with the magicka, what a great idea that everyone should like to eat them!

“She showed me my sign, and you know what he told me?”

Um. Did she show him his guide? I could just be reading this wrong.

I love the atmosphere you give each setting. Creepy forest, cave, or fire lit ruin, each one has its own feeling.

@rider: I'm still debating having a romance going here, but I am in favor of one not happening. I'm going to be following the developments of this tale and the characters, as well as the interpretations of the readers here, to make the final decision. I'm glad you do wish to see something happen between them, but it probably won't be in that way.

@SubRosa: This chapter was used as a base for experimenting with writing in two separate time-frames and telling those stories at the same time. My cues tend to be based on the length of the passages as well as giving verbal cues through the writing. I'm glad it worked for you.
Nit be picked.

@Acadian: I reserve the man (or mer)-made puddle for when someone gets a good shock. For example, if it were at night and the giant snuck up on our twosome going "ooglie booglie booglie!", THEN we might see some urination. That, or someone is becoming fairly certain that his life is about to end. Those two hadn't QUITE reached that point yet, as they could still fight back. I will say they were close, though.

@mALX: If I might make a suggestion on how you could fix your computer: C-4. It's stable, reliable, and capable of cleaning up any mess anyone might have made! Just what the doctor ordered! (Side effects may include craters, burns, irate husbands, and cat-scratch fever.) Thank you for your kind words.

@Grits: Dere's birthsign and spirit guide are one and the same. But, I do see your point, considering he was already aware of his birthsign at the time, so I'll be editing that. Thank you for your thoughts!

@all: I am referencing an actual chess opening move set in this story: The Two Knights Defense. It just fit the idea so well that I had to run with it. We also have the identities of our villains revealed... a bit.

next: Our foray into the forest of death has finally come to an end. It is time we learned a little more about what is going on here.






The trees were thinning. Above us, the bright blue mantle of a clear sky winked down through the gently rustling leaves. The yews had shrunk, now interspersed between great oaks and haughty poplars. The suffocating canopy we had dwelled under for the past three days had been left behind, and now the forest floor breathed again.

“Look!” Faith exclaimed, prompting me to turn to look at her. Upon following her finger, it fell upon a lone horse. He stood quite still, his glinting brown eyes fixed upon the two strangers now disturbing his peaceful grazing. His dark gray mane glistened in the late afternoon light, and his steel-colored body was dappled with light gray spots. His figure ended with a long, swishing tail.

“Do you think its the same horse we startled away?” I asked.

“I think so,” Faith replied, following the progress of its tail. He seemed much calmer now then he did when we last met him. His gaze did not seem nervous, else he probably would be holding his tail starkly still. Was it curiosity?

“You know what, Faith? I think we might be close to leaving this place.” I voiced aloud.

Sure enough, as Magnus began to sink behind the rolling hills of yonder, the trees overhead finally broke. The soft crunching of our footfalls on grass and leaves had been replaced with the dull clopping of shoe on stone. We had met the road; we had made it out.

I could barely repress my shout of joy, and even Faith with her hardened demeanor could not help but smile. Approaching torchlight and the extraordinarily welcome sound of horseshoe on rock preceded the arrival of a Legion patrol. Safe at last.

“It’s getting late travelers,” the leading Decanus called out to us. “You should draw up alongside the road and rest. Best not to travel by night anymore, not with what’s happened over the past few days.”

“You mean besides Kvatch?” I asked. It suddenly came to my attention that I was woefully behind on news, having been trapped in overgrown brambles for the past three days.

“Yes, though the fall of Kvatch is most certainly a part of it.” The legionary replied, gently tugging his dark burnt-sienna horse to a halt. “We’ve been getting increasing reports from travelers… the Daedra.”

“You mean, they’re spreading?” Faith interrupted, her joyful gaze replaced with one of shock.

“We can’t be too sure right now,” the Legionary continued, “but as I’ve said, we’ve had several sightings out in the wilderness. Did you just come from the Yews?” He then added, eyeing us with an unreadable expression.

“Yes, actually,” I responded. “Don’t ask how we ended up there.”

“Well, you got here alive, so obviously Kynareth has smiled upon you,” The Legionary replied. “You would do best to stick to the roads now, Bosmer. The wilderness just isn’t safe anymore.”

“Thank you for your warning,” I said as the Legionary turned to resume patrol.

“Good night,” he bade us as he smooched to his horse to move on. I then turned to look at Faith, her eyes were troubled, and I was sure mine matched. If the Daedra could bring an entire city to its knees, what could they do to a lonely wanderer? I didn’t even want to think about how close to death several of those travelers had come.




----




“Well, here we are. Great Niben Bridge.” Faith said, embellishing our arrival with a flourish. The great stone arches of the towering structure branched their way over the glittering river beneath, its waves lopping lazily against the great pillars. To the south, the river disappeared into a lake… no, a sea. It stretched as far as the eye could see, small islands dotting the glinting azure waters; Niben Bay. I had to suppress a fierce urge to sling my shirt to the ground and dive into the clear blue sea. It felt so great to be free of the stuffy woods whose treetops now waved innocently at our retreating backs. It was almost as if they were beckoning for us to return, saying “oh, come now, it’s not that bad in here. There’s only trolls and giants and cliffs and canyons. Nothing lethal, nothing at all.” Rather ironic, considering my heritage, but I had grown amongst tall, airy trees. The yews did nothing but compress the air you breathed and restrict your movement. I do not like it when things restrict my movement.

“Once you cross the bridge, you’ll reach a small village called Vergayun on the coast. You can rest there for the night. You can then meet up with the Green Road from there, and take it straight on to Bravil. You are no more than two days away,” Faith finished explaining as I drunk in the serene freedom of nature.

“Thanks,” I replied, but I still wasn’t done. “And not just for getting me back on track. I probably would have died in those yews if it weren’t for you.”

“You fared pretty well, yourself, you know,” Faith responded, the ghost of bashfulness betrayed by her eyes. “I could say the same thing.”

“Oh, well… thanks.” I could feel my face warming slightly at her words, and it had nothing to do with the rising sun. I forced myself to look into her own eyes before I continued, “Are you coming, then, watcher?”

“No, I need to get back to the Imperial City,” Faith responded. “Besides, you can take care of yourself well enough.”

“Very well,” I returned, directing my shoes towards the great stone bridge before me. “Maybe we’ll see each other again sometime?”

“I’m sure we will soon enough,” Faith replied as she turned away. She took a few steps, but then gave pause. After some hesitation, she then doubled back.

“I almost forgot, this is for you,” She then finished, handing me a small, sealed envelope. “Hopefully it will explain a few things. Now, I really do need to go, so take care of yourself.”

“And you, too,” I called out as she shrank into the distance. I then heaved a deep sigh, and turned to seat myself on the banisters of the bridge. I had a full day to myself now, and I wanted to enjoy being freed from Mephala’s clutches as best I could. When I finally got bored of staring out into the bay, I turned my eyes to the letter Faith had given me. There was very little writing on the front, it only said “To Derelas, for your eyes only.” Hmm, a secret… my curiosity perked, I tore the envelope open and unfolded the parchment within.






----




“Have you brought it?” The cloaked figure demanded of the Argonian knelt before him.

“Yes, Lord,” his hissing voice replied. He then drew a thick, heavy volume from is cloak and passed it along. “Fingers of the Mountain, as requested.”

“And no one knows of its whereabouts?” The cloaked figure demanded again, his blood-red eyes beginning to glow.

“The only one who could easily track it has been slain, and the Associate who brought it to me is none the wiser,” The Argonian replied. “He thinks he brought it into the safekeeping of the Mages Guild.”

“Good,” the red-eyed figure replied. “You have done well to bring me this Teekeus. I take it you have kept your ties with the Worm King intact?”

“Indeed, Lord,” Teekeus responded, barely able to contain the relief and glee in his hissing voice.

“What news from him?”

“He is biding his time,” Teekeus replied. “He waits for the opportune moment to strike, but his forces are ready and willing. I believe he will move alongside Dagon, try to catch the Mages off guard.”

“As they will be too busy dealing with Dagon’s assault to forsee an attack from a thought dead foe.” The cloaked figure finished. “Very well, you may leave,” He then dismissed the Argonian.

Clutching the book close to his chest, he returned to his throne. His joy was palpable, he almost thought he could feel his heart beating once again. Everything was playing out exactly as desired. Now all that was left was for Mannimarco to make his move.

“The Two Knights,” he commented staring down at the chessboard. “So, Dagon failed to kill the last heir.”

“And Akatosh’s Champion now brings him to safety,” a woman’s voice reverberated throughout the chamber. Her bronze skin clashed vividly with her stark white gown, which was painted a vivid red by the glowing orbs above. Her midnight-black hair was drawn back into an elaborate plume, adding to her already substantial height. She was seated at the opposite end of the chessboard, eying the white pieces with deep blue eyes and anticipating the next move. As she spoke, her dagger-sharp fangs gleamed.

“But will he find solace? That is the question,” the man replied. As he did, he moved his bishop forward into the empty field of squares, ready for battle.

“Dagon has already dispatched his servants,” The lady in white replied. “He may have lost the last Septim, but he is not unintelligent. Where one is gained, another is lost. Weynon will be his in but a fortnight.”

And so the mystery deepens!

Child of Dawn, huh? Why does that make me think of Buffy the Blond Bosmer Bowgirl from Bravil? Hmmm . . .

Should be whose. Who's is like it's - it refers to the contraction of who is.

I think the 'r' snuck in while Derelas was trying to escape the yews. Time to kick it back to where it came from!

-
did you mean stock still?

and was probably intended to be burnt-sienna - the color, not the moderator.

Is it just coincidence that Dawn is the opposite of Twilight?

No, I most definitely meant stark(ly) still. From the ever-handy dictionary:

stark
   /stɑrk/ [stahrk], -er, -est, adverb – adjective
1. sheer, utter, downright, or complete: stark madness.
2. harsh, grim, or desolate, as a view, place, etc.: a stark landscape.
3. extremely simple or severe: a stark interior.
4. bluntly or sternly plain; not softened or glamorized: the stark reality of the schedule's deadline.
5. stiff or rigid in substance, muscles, etc.
6. rigid in death.
7. Archaic . strong; powerful; massive or robust.

It's the same usage as in the spell Stark Reality.

WOOOOOOOOOOOT !!!!!! You just knocked me out of my chair !!!!! WOO HOO !!!! Now that's what I'm talking about !!!!!!

Well, out of the woods, but. . .

Vampires, the Worm King, Dagon. Teekeus the turncoat. There is certainly some mystery brewing here!

Our hero has escaped from Mirkwood, with nary a giant spider in sight (lucky this is not Skyrim! ).

You would do best to stick to the roads now, Bosmer.
Heresy!

I wanted to enjoy being freed from Mephala’s clutches as best I could
Faith was not that bad.

So Faith/Sera (I prefer Sera as a name myself, the Faith in BtVS ruined that name for me) is a secret agent of vampire hunters? Or perhaps the Mythic Dawn, given the name of her secret society? I figured she had to be some kind of spy, rather than just your run-of-the-mill stalker. She did not seem crazy enough to be the latter. Or perhaps she is an agent of the vampires? Now that would be an interesting twist.

@haute ecole rider: I can assure you that there will be no Blond Bravilian Bowgirls in-the-buff involved in this order. They take their name from a different source. Buffy the Bowgirl has no intentions of becoming a vampire slayer, Azura's Chosen, and I wish to honor her decision.
Nits be picked.

@ghastley: Twilight and dawn are two sides of the same coin.

@mALX: Surprise surprise! I heartily enjoy taking my stories along twisty-turny roads where you don't know what's going to happen next. The poltline for this one is already pretty complex, and gets even more so every day. The pressure is now on me to make sure I leave none of the threads dangling. With luck, and a good sense of where things are going, though, we might have a Berber rug similar to the one hanging on my wall in terms of storytelling, though. (And yes, I mean a genuine Berber rug that I purchased in Morocco.)

@Acadian: Mystery that will only get deeper as time progresses... I love to keep you people guessing.

@SubRosa: I am not even close to done with being an evil, evil man. I will feast upon your Arachnophobia... and I will like it!

@all: So, now that our harrowing venture into Fangorn Forest the Ancient Yews has ended, it's time to take stock of the situation and get back into the normal routine of life in Tamriel... or are we?

next: We arrive in Vergayun, for dinner and a good night's sleep.






“Welcome to Vergayun, Bosmer,” A guard clad in padded white chain mail bearing the crest of a noble-antlered deer upon the front greeted me. The day was late now, most of it spent upon the great span across the Niben. It was with great relief that I found myself approaching the tiny port village on the coast. This was my first sight of civilization in four days time. Finally, the chance for a hot meal, a warm, blazing fire, and a pillow beneath my head.

“I wish to stay at the inn, do you know where I might find it?” I asked the guard.

“The Clam’s Shell,” he indicated a large thatch-roofed building on the hilltop. “Food and bed for all travelers. You may want to avoid the Slaughterfish Surprise if this is your first time here, though. It takes a bit of… getting used to,” the guard added, a light grimace crossing his face.

“Thank you for the warning,” I replied. “Is there anything you would suggest?”

“Oh, yes indeed,” The guard answered, “The clam chowder is quite excellent. Buy it with sourdough bread and a warm sweetcake. Best food you’ll find for miles.”

“I appreciate your help,” came my response, “good evening.”

The village of Vergayun was quite small. It had a decent sized dock, where now a large ship was moored. The boat looked like a trading cog, due to the expansive belly that made it look rather portly. Several sailors milled about the ship, clad in flax tunics and chewing tobacco as they loaded and unloaded cargo. On a second, smaller dock nearby, several men were retrieving fishing rods and pots, hauling them back to their damp wooden homes. They would probably be up well before the sun tomorrow to set them back, I mused as I strode along the creaky planks.

The way soon turned to a small dirt road as it meandered onwards to the inn. As I began to trek upwards, my mind returned to the blood-chilling letter I had received earlier today. Faith was a member of a group of vampire hunters, it told me. She was tracking me because an ancient was stalking me. I had no idea what an ancient was, so I could only assume it was a vampire that was extra-mean. But still, was I in that much danger the whole time I was here? Why was I even traveling at all if doing so might put my life at such risk?

Relax, Dere. The roads are well patrolled and the cities well fortified. If these hunters had truly felt my life would be at risk from traveling, why didn’t Faith try to escort me someplace safe after we escaped the yews? Perhaps they are trying not to impede too much on my life? I had to appreciate these nameless hunters for that, and for their trust that I would not go astray. At this a sharp stab of guilt penetrated my stomach, I had gone astray. This did a lot for explaining Faith’s annoyance throughout the trip; I had betrayed their trust... her trust. I had a feeling I was lucky that she felt I deserved another chance after nearly getting her killed three times in as many days. As I strode through the creaky wooden door of the Clam’s Shell, I made a silent vow: never again would I betray that trust.




----




“Greetings, Forest-dweller,” The soothing low tones of the Dunmer publican greeted me as the moist wooden planks swung shut behind me. “Welcome to the Clam’s Shell, famed for its clam chowder and Slaughterfish Surprise! Have you been long traveling?”

“You have no idea,” I replied with barely repressed tiredness, finding a seat. The publican was simply dressed in blue and green, and her age was betrayed through light flecks of white in her dark brown hair. Her fiery eyes were alight with energy; so much so you could almost see the ghost of a namesake volcano behind them. Her face was clear and calm, lending an air of security and belonging to the room. One could probably look into her eyes and see their mother gazing back at them.

It then struck me that I was staring. It had been so long since I had seen such a caring, tender gaze that I found myself awash in it. My face grew hot as I tore my eyes away from her.

“I’m sorry, have I offended?” She then asked me, breaking my reverie.

“Wha… oh, sorry. No, you haven’t. You just reminded me of someone… someone I knew.”

“Oh,” she replied, “Must have been someone dear to you, your gaze was quite intense.” She then ducked beneath the counter I was sat behind, placed a wooden cup beside me, and filled it with water from a crude stone pitcher.

“Thank you,” I responded, taking the cup into my hands. “Say, why do you call it ‘Slaughterfish Surprise’?”

“Because you never know what you’ll get, of course!” She answered, laughter gleaming in her eyes now. “I’ve had some break into song over it, and you wouldn’t believe what goes on in some of the minds we have here, particularly the fishermen. It is adventure in a bowl! Would you care to try it?”

My mind suddenly flashed back to a Nord dancing around on a tabletop waving his shirt through the air. I was suddenly overcome with a strange urge to laugh, and at the same time a strong urge to vomit.

“Maybe another time,” I turned down her offer. “I hear the clam chowder is very good here, though?”

“You heard correctly, then, dear. Five drakes for one bowl, or free if you wish to stay the night.”

As I was planning to stay the night here, I thought I might as well take her up on her offer.

“And how much for a bed?” I asked.

“Ten Drakes.” She replied. It was much easier to part with the sum now that I had a small pile of Septims jingling away in my pocket. I would need to be careful not to spend it all in one place. The coins spent only a second on the counter top before the publican’s deft hands whisked them away.

“Oh, my… where are my manners?” She suddenly voiced as she turned towards a large kettle on the stone range behind her. “I didn’t even ask your name. I’m Dorisa Thelas.”

“I’m Derelas,” I returned as she placed a large bowl of red tomato filled soup before me.

“It’s Rumare style, with tomatoes instead of the cream you would normally find in Nibenese style,” Dorisa explained as I picked up my spoon. “Much heartier, too. I like to switch between the two from time to time. It keeps things fresh.”

“It’s delicious all the same,” I replied. A subtle sweetness broke through the acidity of the tomatoes from the mixture of carrots and bell peppers. Each bite contained a healthy portion of clam meat, well prepared and not even slightly rubbery. The dish was made complete with the savory touch of potato.

“Enjoy yourself,” Dorisa chimed, leaving a small loaf of flour-dusted bread next to my bowl. She then moved to assist the several people who had just filed inside as I tore a chunk of the crisp-crusted bread away to dip into the bowl.




----




The clear blue glow of ancient crystals beckoned me forward. Though instinct told me what was within these crumbling halls would mean my death, I could not stop my feet from taking step after step closer to the beckoning darkness. All that mattered was what lay at the end.

After what seemed like hours, the constricting walls beside me vanished. I now strode into a gigantic chamber bathed in red light. My mind screamed at me to stop, to turn, to leave, but it had parted from my body entirely. As I stepped to the lip of a grand stairwell, he came forward.

The figure of shadow, eyes aflame in the gloom of his hood. He stepped downward towards me ever so slowly. Every footstep he made resounded like thunder within a collapsing cavern. As the distance closed, he reached for his pommel, drawing a blade that was both dazzlingly beautiful, and woefully terrible. It, like he, sapped the light from the air around it. The elegantly carved hilt was stained with black taint unlike any I had seen before. Though the blade still sang, it had lost its sheen and now oozed darkness from every lip of its masterfully engraved surface.

At arms length from me, the man stopped. He held the blade so I might see it, allowing me to feast my eyes on its horrid majesty. He then drew it back, and thrust it forward, skewering my heart upon the razor-sharp tip.

The world disappeared into blackness….




----




My face stung with needles as I jerked awake, and then I froze. Two cloaked figures stood above me, swords drawn for Coup-de-Grace, and tips aimed for my stomach.

_______________________________________________


Post Script: Rumare Clam Chowder and Nibenese Clam Chowder are TES-ified versions of Manhattan Clam Chowder and New England Clam Chowder, respectively.

For those interested, the village was based off of this mod.

Quite enjoyable, especially the two versions of the clam chowder. I think I would quite enjoy the Rumare version so much more, too (prefer tomato sauces over cream/cheese sauces every tiime).

Talendor's ponderings about the hunters and vampires is quite informative and sets up the emotional atmosphere in a wonderful way.

And the plot thickens. What a nightmare, and what a way to wake up from it!

I do have a nit: Having crusted so close together is a bit disruptive to the flow. As I can see the bread has a dusting of flour on it, how about a small loaf of flour-dusted bread and keeping the crisp-crusted bread in the second instance? Just a suggestion!

So given your remark to ghastley about Twilight, does that mean Derelas will have to choose between a brooding vampire or a hunky werewolf to be his b/f?

I love Fangorn Forest! I remember when I first saw it in the movies, I simply fell in love with the place.

Now, onto the actual story. I always find myself struggling for names of places like inns. The Clam's Shell is an excellent one for a seaside village!

Slaughterfish Surprise
I am afraid to ask what the surprise is! Frickken laser beams in their eyes?

you could almost see the ghost of a namesake volcano behind them
An excellent description!

And trust captain cook to give us a tasty meal. I love Manhattan Rumare Clam Chowder. It is has that extra spicy kick that the Nibenean kind lacks. Although I still like the latter as well.

Finally, another of Dere's strange dreams with Lucien Lacroix. Only to wake up to find cliff hanging again!

Neat inn. I'd like the Nibenese clam chowder in a bread bowl and a goblet of Tamika's, please. Yum!

'I had no idea what an ancient was, so I could only assume it was a vampire that was extra-mean. '
Yikes. I agree.

A cliffie!

Nit:
'Dorisa chimed, leaving a small loaf of flour-drusted bread next to my bowl.'
An edit to the edit is needed. Lol.

Ok...I am caught up again. Really great stuff! So much going on now and a plot that gets thicker and thickerer. Could Teekeeus' sinister side be the "dasterdly idea" you spoke of in Talendor comments? As always, the food makes my mouth water while reading. I must confess to being more of a Nibenese chowder fan myself. Anyway, it's good to be caught up and looking forward to more.

Thank you for linking the mod so we can get an idea of the place!!!

This was my fave line, Heartstopping !!!





You could have ended it right there for the shocking cliffhanger - either way, Great Write !!

Chapter 4-7 The suffocating canopy we had dwelled under for the past three days had been left behind, and now the forest floor breathed again.

Just wanted to mention how much I like this phrasing.

“You fared pretty well, yourself, you know,” Faith responded, the ghost of bashfulness betrayed by her eyes. “I could say the same thing.”

“Oh, well… thanks.” I could feel my face warming slightly at her words, and it had nothing to do with the rising sun. I forced myself to look into her own eyes before I continued, “Are you coming, then, watcher?”

As well as this sweet and delicate exchange.

The plot is getting complex, I need to start taking notes!!

Chapter 5-1 It then struck me that I was staring. It had been so long since I had seen such a caring, tender gaze that I found myself awash in it. My face grew hot as I tore my eyes away from her.

A reminder that Derelas is far from home, and alone. I can’t decide between Rumare style or Nibenese chowders. I’ll have to try another bowl of each, please.

@haute ecole rider: Must be your Sicilian heritage speaking there! I would assume things would be much different had your ancestors been born a couple hundred miles further north. By the way, Talendor? I think you have the wrong Bosmer there. I know, I know, there's now... what, four Bosmer-centric tales here? It can get a little tough to keep track sometimes.
Nit be picked.

@SubRosa: I'm sorry, but we will be seeing none of David Borenaz or Seth Green in this fic.

@Acadian: Surely Buffy would know just how big a meanie-head a vampire can be, and that's just a lowly broodspawn!
Picked nit be picked yet again.

@Rick: You haven't even seen the first bit of my dastardlyness! I have a few plans in store for you that might just send you to the doctor because your brain exploded! (Well, in reality, I just love a good plot twist.)

@sporky-eared squirrel: I don't think a dream sequence is a good place to end things if you want a good cliffhanger. The cardinal problem with doing so is that the reader knows that what is happening is not real and will most likely be resolved by the protagonist waking up. It's sort of a cliffhanger, but the readers feet can feel the ground as they dangle, which completely defeats the purpose. That is why I returned us to reality before I left you dangling, because then you know that the cacat is about to hit the fan.

@Grits: Thank you for your approval on those rather tender moments in Derelas' life.

@all: Thank you all for sharing your clam chowder preference. If you wish to know, mine is Manhattan, or in this case Rumare.

next: Assassins!






In the split second between my awakening and my finding two figures poised to rob me of my life, a knife hissed through the air. Caught unawares, the assassin to my left flinched violently to avoid the glinting blade, which crashed into a nearby wall before falling to the floor. Without a single thought as to what might happen to me, I kicked out at the assassin whose blade remained poised to taste my blood. My feet collided with his chest, and he keeled over, nearly winded and only barely clutching the hilt of his weapon. Swords clashed behind me as the second assassin engaged his unknown aggressor.

I lunged to wrest the blade from the cloaked figure’s hands, but in a heartbeat, he had redoubled his grip. As my fingers fruitlessly closed about the pommel, he flicked it away as he might a stubborn fly. I could barely make out a grin crossing his shadowed lips as he raised the blade to bite my neck.

I dived aside, a sharp sting quickly building in my right arm. I then knew then the assassin had tasted blood. As the sting escalated to a screaming burn, I caught gaze of the knife my savior had thrown, still quivering where it had pierced the floor, and just within my reach. My uninjured arm clasped the hilt, drawing it forth as the black-robed figure appeared above me, poising himself for another Coup-de-Grace. In his overconfidence, I had my moment; I thrust the knife upward….

The assassin then screamed in pain, clutching for his manhood where blood now oozed as if from some perverted fountain. His blade clattered to the ground. Not a second later, a heavy thud denoted a large body hitting the floor. I peered through the nauseating spectacle before me to see the second black-robed man sprawled unmoving upon the ground.

At this point, a searing pain gave stark reminder of the wound upon my arm. I turned to view the deep gash left upon me, a ghastly reminder of how close I had come to death’s embrace. The cut was clean, denoting a viciously sharp edge upon the blade, and was bleeding freely. A moan of pain escaped my lips as I gripped the deep gash within my good hand, watching as the blood spilled through my fingers.

“Thank the Gods…” came Faith’s voice as she shoved aside the now castrated assassin, who was too busy with either the pain or humiliation to care. “Are you alright?”

“Not by much, but I’m alive,” I replied, gritting my teeth as a fresh wave of white-hot pain threatened to spill more than blood upon the floorboards. Faith quickly dipped into her traveling pack, drew forth a vial of swirling red liquid, and handed it to me. I drained the healing potion in one gulp, and felt the pain dissipate to a dull throb as the bleeding slowed. It did not cease, though, and the wound remained open, yawning its defiance.

“Cacat,” Faith voiced, “This is a lot worse than I thought. You’re going to need to see a healer about this. Let me see that dagger.”

I handed her the blade now on the floor next to me as she took a length of black robe from the nearby defeated assassin. Holding it firm and stretched, she sliced a long, thin ribbon from the cloth. With that done, she wrapped it around the wound as tightly as she could, tying it off with a complex knot. My arm now felt very numb, but I knew this was better than bleeding to death.

“Who were these guys, by the way?” I asked, “And how did you know to know to come here? I thought you were on your way back to the Imperial City.”

“I had a feeling,” Faith replied, “I don’t know why, or who or what told me, I just felt I needed to get back to you as quickly as I could.” She turned her gaze to the blackness of the midnight sky, stars twinkling through a lone window. “If I had been but a second later… I don’t even want to think about that.”

She then snapped her deep red eyes back to my own. “We need to get you someplace safe as soon as possible.”

“Well, could you tell me who these people were, first?” I asked, now mildly irritated. I didn’t think now was the time to keep any secrets about whom we were facing. “I know they’re dangerous, but I think I deserve the truth about this. Were these the ancient’s men?”

“No,” Faith responded, eying the twitching body of the assassin I had crippled and shifting her footing as if discomforted. “They are Dark Brotherhood, an ancient group of assassins in the service of the Dread Father Sithis. I would like to say that makes things better, but since you want the truth, it does not. If someone has contracted your life to them, they will not cease their pursuit until they have claimed it.”

My mind was racing, struggling to make sense of things. When my parents disappeared, it was all I could promise myself to discover why. Now, not even a month into my journey to find them again, I had an ancient vampire spying on my every move. Not only that, but an ancient sect of murderers wished to make sport of me, now, too. Could my life possibly get any worse?

“Well, surely we aren’t going to leave now?” I asked once my melancholy had passed. “It’s pitch-black outside, with no moon to light the road. Don’t you think we’d be a bit vulnerable to attack?”

“I know,” Faith replied, taking a seat on a nearby bed. “We will leave at first light tomorrow morning. We should be able to make Bravil by mid-afternoon if we do not stray from the road.”

“And when we arrive?” I continued to inquire.

“Go to the hall of the Guild of Fighters and ask for Tadrose Helas.” Faith responded. “Tell her Sera Dresdan has sent you to her, she’ll understand why, and she’ll keep the Brotherhood away from you as best she can.”

“I’m not sure I would trust a band of mercenaries,” I mused skeptically. Sure the Fighters Guild had honor, but from my experiences with them it was found on the head of a Septim more than anything else. I couldn’t be sure this was the best idea if Faith expected this to be done gratis.

“You can trust Tadrose,” Faith pointedly replied. “She may be a bit rough around the edges, but she knows how this world works. Like I said, just tell her I sent you, and she’ll understand.”

“Well, I guess I don’t have much choice,” came my response. It had become rather obvious to both of us now that keeping me alive, if that was still the intentions of Faith’s order, could not be done by her alone. I had occasionally heard whispers of the savagery inflicted by the Brotherhood back home. Tales of grand nobles’ spectacular ends by their hands, heart and head separated from body and hung for all to see. If Faith thought she would need help, It was probably best I address her concerns, and fast.

It was at this point that the innkeeper arrived alongside two guards in stag-crested armor. Their clanky footfalls preceded them well before they crested the stairs into the loft in which we stood.

“What in Oblivion… what happened here?!” One of the guards exclaimed as Dorisa shrunk away from the violence of the scene, looking very sick. His Imperial voice rang with conviction, causing me to shrink away in submission. Now I understood why they were known for their charisma. “You two, explain yourselves!”

“They were Dark Brotherhood, sir.” Faith responded calmly, unfazed by the Guard’s aggression. “They were after my friend here.”

The guard promptly bent down to check the body of the dead assassin. A low groan soon sounded from the direction of the other body, which I now noticed was moving. The guard quickly abandoned his search of the body, crossed the room in two strides, and swung himself forward to grab him. I noticed him blanch considerably when he noticed the assassin’s injury, but he quickly recovered.

“Who are you? What happened here? Answer quickly!” the guard interrogated the man. Before he could continue, there was an incredible yell of pain. The guard recoiled back from the dark-robed man, a black dagger embedded in his thigh.

“In Sithis’ name… I still my tongue….” The assassin breathed, his voice laden with contempt.

“So be it,” the guard answered quietly. He then drew his silver blade, swung it high, and brought it down upon the assassin’s neck.




----




“…and then Faith arrived and we fought them.” I limply finished recapping the story to the guard. His leg was now bandaged and he walked with a heavy limp. We had been moved downstairs while the uninjured guard investigated the bodies for any evidence they might be carrying.

“It’s remarkable you survived,” Dorisa chimed in. “When the Brotherhood calls assassins to a man’s nightstand, they almost never fail.”

“And they won’t let this stop them, they will try again,” the guard continued, his voice heavy with displeasure. “You two must leave Vergayun as soon as possible. The villagers will be fearful of your presence should you remain, and thus I cannot allow you to stay.”

“We mean to leave by dawn,” I responded to the guard’s concerns. “We do not wish to endanger your residents any more than you do.”

“Good,” the guard replied, a good deal of tension leaving his strained features. “I’m sorry to have to kick you out of our village so unceremoniously, but I do not wish to put the citizens at risk. Where do you plan to go?”

“Bravil,” came Faith’s reply. “I have some friends there that can help with this.”

The guard gave a dark chuckle when he heard the name of the city. “You’d better,” he responded, “thieves own that city. You’d be safer at the bottom of the Niben than you would to trust your hands in Count Terentius’s guard. Rotten to the core, they are.”

“We don’t plan on even getting close to them,” Faith quickly replied. “I have some friends in the Fighters Guild down there that I trust.”

The guard grunted, but didn’t speak any further on the matter. At this point, clanking footsteps announced the arrival of the second guard.

“They had nothing,” he reported. “Nothing we could use to track them. No evidence whatsoever.”

“Damn,” the first guard replied, shaking his head. “Well, you two had better get some rest before you leave in the morning. I’ll have Gaius here keep an eye on you, but I need to get a report written for His High Majesty Terentius.” He placed as much contempt as he dared into the last four words.

“You don’t think much of him, do you?” I asked the guard as he limped towards the door. He then turned back to look at me, a somber expression upon his lined face.

“No, sonny, I don’t. He doesn’t give a cliffracer’s beak about his citizens and would prefer to just let us rot while he drowns himself in Skooma and wine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving us to fight for what little rest we could hope for.

The fight scene was ...uh...feel...funny... * mALX turned green * very graphic and detailed... * urg *... powerfully realistic... * gaaaack *


This line is outstanding! :




Oooh! Tadrose to the rescue !!!




SPEW !!!

And the mystery of why continues! Great Chapter !!!


*

Arrgh! I was afraid I was getting the two mixed up! I even peeked to make sure, damn it! My apologies to you, I hope Dere wasn't too offended at being mistaken for that other Bosmer (like most males tend to be ).

It's highly amusing to me to read your very constructive criticism on another thread regarding its and it's, only to encounter the same mistake in your own fiction regarding who's and whose. I must patiently bring to your attention that who breaks the same so-called rules as it - who's is a contraction of who is, while whose is the possessive form.

And another nit: I think you want unfazed here.

And actually, my Italian ancestors are from a little bit north of Sicily. Palermo, to be exact. But I'm at least a generation removed from the classic Italian/Sicilian rivalry, so I don't buy into it all that much. The southern cuisine is awesome! Nuttin like fresh tomaters! I'm right there with that crazy Skingrad Dunmer lady.

Well, at least I admitted to my guilt of this error....

The difference between it's and its sticks out to me a lot more than who's and whose, even though they are exactly the same exception. I'll get it eventually, though...

They shall now be recorded in big bold letters on my front page so I might never make this error again.

And now the Dark Brotherhood enter's the picture. This could be a short story indeed for poor Derelas. Who will be after the poor guy next? Great installment here...keeping us all intrigued.

I did find one nit...

His Imperial voice rang with conviction, causing my to shrink away in submission.
I'm assuming this should be me.

Looking forward to more...story that is...not nits....

Hmmm, we have three tales of Bosmer boys, and two of Bosmer girls here at Chorrol. For the race that is usually picked on as 'most hated' or 'most annoying' in forum polls, wood elves are certainly popular in fiction!

Well that was an exciting conclusion to cliff's hanging! Once again Sera saves the day. Is that the third time now she has saved Dere's bacon?

Hmm, Ancient Vampires, Dark Brotherhood, Derelas certainly has a way of getting people mad at him! Who next!

Next it is off to Bravil, to see no less than Tadrose Helas! Oh wait, wrong Bosmer going to see Tadrose... I guess Dere would not be as excited.

He doesn’t give a cliffracer’s beak
No one wants to give that cliffracer's beak away, it must sure be nice! Seriously, I love the little setting-friendly terms you have woven into your tale, such as the head of a septim.

This was nicely done, with plenty of time spent to fully develop the exciting fight with the assassins and the aftermath that followed.

Nice to see Faith again, albeit the circumstances were less than ideal! I enjoyed both what we learned from Faith and the whole scene involving the guards.

Lots of possibilities tug at the mind as for a cause for this attack by the Dark Brotherhood. Lead on!

@mALX: I hope you didn't vomit, your car has enough problems as it is without you needing to clean sick out of the back-seat, too.

@haute ecole rider: Well, that was an embarrassing nit-catch.Time for me to keep a closer eye on that one.
And don't worry too much about mixing up the names, I'll only torture you slowly and flay you alive!

@TheOtherRick: Hopefully not that short, now that we know Tadrose will be on the case.
Nit be picked.

@SubRosa: "Cliffracer's beak" is essentially a TES-ified version of "flying (you know)." After playing Morrowind for awhile, that's essentially what I felt they were like, little flying (bleep)s. It eventually got so bad that I installed a plugin specifically to pacify the bloody things. Now they are much easier to tolerate.

@Acadian: Happy you enjoyed the brief, but gruesome tussle. We will learn more about Bravil very soon.

@all: As I recall, Bravil is a city very important to several characters on this board. I must give forewarning that some might not approve of what I have done to the place. This is because I write my descriptions based on what I see in my game, and thus Bravil is receiving a bit of an overhaul. I hope I can be forgiven.

next: We arrive at Bravil, the jewel of the Niben (or so they say).






The crumbling stone walls of the township rose upwards from the sea, the mossy crags giving me a strange image of them being sunken not long ago. Many of the crenellations were missing, and almost every watch tower was topped not with reinforced stone, but with rotting wood. The gatehouse bore several ballistae, aimed across the cliffs of the rocky moat that encircled the city. Access to the stag-embroidered gates was provided by a shaky-looking rope bridge. The nauseatingly sweet smell of decaying flesh preceded the multiple corpses hung in perpetuity on the farther side from the walls. Not two feet away from the hung bodies, a great wooden sign bore a simple phrase:

“Welcome to Bravil.”

Removing my eyes from the disgustingly sardonic sight, I caught Faith’s gaze and raised my eyebrows. Unseen words passed between us as we considered the run-down façade. I found myself questioning if I would really be safe here; safe in a town that considered execution and decay a comforting welcome home.

The air of neglect did not end with the city, however, not even close. The wilderness surrounding Bravil was a myriad of forgotten structures and overgrown fields. The wide, deliberate spacing of several of those fields led me to believe they were once farmland, their owners long since driven away. The crumbling ruins of nearby homes, their thatch completely rotted away, gave air to a long since past grandeur. The border watch tower for the county stood wrapped in a thin layer of cobwebs, having lain abandoned for centuries. Fungi grew with voracious vigor upon trees, rocks, fences; pretty much anything it could grab hold of. Faith actually ended up picking several of the more colorful varieties, as did I. Yellow cinnabar polyphore, for example, had marvelous restorative capabilities, excellent for the heart and lungs. We also harvested several heads of lavender, which Faith then showed me how to brew together with the equally widespread cairn bolete into a potion for restoring lost blood. This was particularly helpful for me, as my smarting wound was still in need of a healer’s touch.

Crossing the rickety old bridge was harrowing; it felt as if every step had to be chosen with care lest we tumble to our doom on the jagged rocks below. It was quite a relief to me when my feet found solid ground that didn’t ominously creak as if it was about to splinter. No guard stood at the gates to allow us entry, so I assumed that we were intended to admit ourselves. A push of the gate revealed it to be unlocked, and the dull creak of the wrought-iron hinges reverberated throughout the stone. With another shove, the gate swung open enough to admit me, and I ventured through the portal.

The city of Bravil proper immediately struck me as a place that had grown far too much far too fast. Every building was constructed of old, musty timber. There was very little architectural style to the buildings, leading me to conclude that several were built by the very people who dwelled within them. Many were haphazardly erected atop already existing structures, where the lack of skilled craftsmanship was further reinforced by their ominous tilting. It made me feel quite uneasy walking the narrow streets. It felt as if these extensions growing from the other buildings like tumors might come crashing down at any moment, crushing all who stood beneath them in an avalanche of splintered wood and rusted nails. The streets themselves were hard enough to negotiate as they were. Every inch of them not covered by moss and fungi was taken up by the remains of crates and barrels now so rotten even fire would reject them. Given the pervasive smell, it would also seem that wood was hardly the most popular fuel in this city, as well.

Eventually the constricting alleys opened onto a large square dominated by a great statue. The limestone effigy took the appearance of a proud, but caring old lady, her wrinkled hands reaching down to take the outstretched fingers of a young child. Many people stared upon her face, apparently awestruck, and I also saw someone walk up to the statue and kiss the cheek of the old lady.

“The Lucky Old Lady,” Faith responded to my unvoiced question in an unnaturally heavy voice. “It is rumored that to give her a kiss will bring you good fortune.”

“Have you tried before?” I asked.

“Only once,” Faith replied, her eyes glossing over. The threatening tears and rising color in her face made me quickly reconsider pressing the subject.

To the south of the great statue, the square became an open-air marketplace. It was packed to the britches with man, mer, and beast-folk milling about the canvas-covered stalls. Every so often I could catch the shouting of merchants advertising their products for all ears to hear:

“Fine mountain spring water, fresh from the Ethe! You have never had clearer water than this, my friends!”

“The finest game your tongue will touch! Such tender meat will melt upon your tasting! Come, sample! You have never tasted such finery before!”

“Only the finest forcemeats and sausages you will find here, my friends! Bold flavor at the price of the Era, for no one comes between a man and his sausage!”

We skirted the outside of the market to avoid the worst of the crowd, finding another narrow alleyway that brought us to the wider High Street. It was here that many of the more successful merchants had set roots into the moist soil of the city streets. Their shops had walls and doors, as well as colorful signs to advertise their presence. They were dedicated to such goods as archery gear and scribed spells. The presence of more pawnbrokers than there were more selective merchants did not escape me, though. This was a city of abject poverty, and I was fairly certain that few who lived here would be able to afford the finer goods that the specialized merchants tended to offer.

At the end of High Street stood a building constructed haphazardly of timber and hewn stone. It would have been unremarkable, save for the familiar blue and gold symbol of an eye fixing me with its persistent stare. All the trouble of this past week just to get to that one little building, I mused. I never thought traveling could be such a fraught activity. Unfortunately, the Guild of Mages would have to wait, for there was still the ordeal of my protection to attend to, and Faith would certainly have none of my wanderings.

The Guild of Fighters stood on the opposite end of High Street, its presence advertised by deep red banners with artistically woven blades upon them. Once the two of us found ourselves at the stairwell leading to the single creaky doorway, Faith halted.

“Well, here you are,” she told me. “Head inside and speak to Tadrose.”

“You’re not coming along?” I asked.

“No, you’re in safe hands now, and I really do need to get back to Cyrodiil City,” Faith responded, turning away. “Just do what Tadrose says, and you’ll be fine.”

“Then safe travels to you,” I bade her as she retreated up the muddy road. She raised a hand in farewell as a response.




----




The interior of the guild gave stark contrast to the cold, passionless façade it shared with almost every other building in the city. A fire roared away upon a stone hearth, where several vases of colorful flowers added a delightfully whimsical touch. A large dining table sat nearby, many chairs encircling it, though only one spot was actually set for a meal. The lobby into which I stepped was lined with racks upon racks of expertly sharpened blades and axes. Several carefully crafted bows with shining steel ears were displayed above them, and arrow-filled quivers were not far to be found. Several wooden dummies also stood along the walls, and many were clad in heavy mail that would certainly have floored me if I were to try it on. The guild was mostly empty, save for two members sparring together in the nearby ring and a single steel-skinned young man who was now making to greet me.

“Welcome to the Guild of Fighters,” the man who I decided was a porter greeted me formally. His sing-song voice gave him away as a Breton. “If you are looking to join, I am afraid our senior officer is away on official business right now, so you will have to return another time.”

My curiosity got the better of me. “What sort of official business?” I asked before I could catch myself. The porter looked slightly taken aback at my directness, but seemed to recover once he caught the embarrassment flooding my cheeks.

“You know of what happened at Kvatch, correct?” the porter asked me. I nodded my assent. “Well, believe it or not, someone managed to infiltrate and close the last remaining Oblivion Gate outside the city.”

“Really?” I interrupted. “Who?”

“Reports are conflicted,” the Breton responded, “Most say it was a Redguard with hair white as the highest peaks of Hrothgar itself, but others swear it was blond Nord who could not be touched by the Daedra’s magic. No one is really sure, but they have already started calling this person the Hero of Kvatch.

“Nevertheless, the remaining garrison of the city has called for reinforcements for a counter-offensive,” the porter continued. “Unfortunately, given the political strain the death of the Emperor has caused throughout Tamriel, the number of available Legion cohorts grows thin. Between the fall of the city and the closing of the Gate, not even a single conturbernii responded. They have since extended their plea for help to any organized fighting force who might be willing. Pappy was one of the first to respond.”

“Pappy?” I inquired.

“Our Commander, Gaius Vitellus. He took three units, ten fighters each, and left just yesterday,” the porter answered. “He left Tadrose in charge. Unfortunately she doesn’t possess the power to introduce new members, however she is quite well respected. Perhaps you wish to speak to her?”

“Yes, actually,” I responded. The porter beckoned me to follow.

He led me down into the rough stone basement, and the intense heat within immediately assaulted my eyes. Blinking away the dryness, I was able to discern the presence of a large forge, where a lithe, muscular Dunmer was hammering away at a blade glowing like Magnus itself with heat. Her flax shirt was stained with soot and sweat, and many strands of her black hair had fallen away from their tight bun from her exertions. I assumed she must have been Tadrose, given she was the only one besides me and the porter here.

“Ma’am?” the porter called out over the clanging of her mallet. She proceeded to stop and look up. “Is this a bad time?”

“It’s alright, Vincent, I was just finishing up,” Tadrose replied, sweeping loose strands of hair from her eyes as she quickly transferred the blade from her anvil to an iron trough filled with water. The resulting cloud of steam nearly turned the basement into a sauna. “What is it?” she then asked the porter.

“Someone to see you,” Vincent replied, retreating up the stairs back to his post.

“Thank you,” Tadrose called after him as he shut the door behind him. She then turned her fiery Dunmer eyes to me. “I apologize for my unkemptness,” she began, “but we are operating a bit of a tight ship at the moment. I’m Tadrose Helas,” she finished, holding out her hand to mine.

“Derelas,” I replied, gripping her callused palm. She then gripped our joined hands with her other, and I followed suit. Once we broke apart, she was prompt to ask about my presence:

“So, what brings you to me? I’m afraid I cannot be of much help if you are looking to join…”

“I’m not here to join,” I cut her off. “I’m here by request of Fathrian Dresdan. She said you’d understand.”

Tadrose’s gaze turned to stone when she heard the name. It took her several seconds before she was ready to respond to me again.

“Come with me,” she finally requested in a meek voice.

_______________________________________________


Post Script: Character references to Julian of Anvil, Jerric, and Gaius "Pappy" Vitellus are used with permission from their respective authors.

This was an incredible introduction to Bravil - Awesome job of setting the scene !!!! Great Chapter !!

I loved the contrast you created with rotting bodies next to the "Welcome to Bravil" sign! The whole place reminds of a Western boomtown that lost its boom, and is now on its last legs.

So Faith kissed the Lady once? I wonder what luck it brought her? I see Tadrose Helas is caught up with her as well, given her reaction. A very intriguing mystery there...

for no one comes between a man and his sausage!
Except maybe his girlfriend...

“Most say it was a Redguard with hair white as the highest peaks of Hrothgar itself, but others swear it was blond Nord who could not be touched by the Daedra’s magic.
Hah! I love how you used both Jerric and Julian as the Hero of Kvatch in the DF!



nit:
Not a nit, just an observation. In the Ancient Roman Legions, the smallest unit was a contubernium, or tent group. It was 8 fighting men plus 2 slaves, who all shared the same tent. It was led by a decanus. Since you used the term cohorts, I thought you might to do the same there. Although granted the term contubernium might confuse some folks (including Derelas!).

What a great chapter! I love your take on Bravil. I have always considered it a dirty little town, and your description fit the bill perfectly.

As I scrolled down to pick a quote or two, I see that SubRosa already picked out the D. Foxy-esque line about a man and his sausage.

Looking through the other lines I was going to quote, there are so many that I will just summarize. Your powers of description are worthy of aspiration! All of the little details have made this chapter so immersive.

Kudos to you oh Chef of Words! Looking forward to more about what caused Tadrose to "meekly" ask Derelas to follow her...

I quite enjoyed your introduction to Bravil. It closely fits my impression of the city as ramshackle walls, ramshackle buildings, even ramshackle bridges!

Except Lorena Bobbitt?

This phrasing was confusing to me on several levels. First, did you mean mantel? Mantle means a cloak or covering, while mantel refers to the slab that makes up the top portion of the fireplace opening (and usually functions as a shelf of sorts). If you meant mantel, then a fire does not burn in a stone mantel. Perhaps A fire roared away on a stone hearth, or A fire roared away beneath a stone mantel, or A fire roared away in a stone fireplace would be better in that case.

Now this is more a style choice than anything else, and if this is part of Dere's 'voice,' then disregard. But I noticed that you tend to use a lot of verbs to describe a single action. Here's an example: Now if that's just the way Dere talks (and I know a few people who talk and write like that) then it's okay as long as it's confined to his narrative voice. But personally I find it a little distracting when simpler phrasing will work just as well and improves the flow of reading for me. For example, I would rewrite it as She stopped and looked up. At this point I'm not sure if this is just Dere's way of narration or not, but I thought I'd bring it up for your consideration.

Overall, I really enjoyed this chapter. From the outlying neglected farms to the ramshackle fortifications (what fortifications?) to the crammed open-air marketplace to the cozy interior of the Fighters Guild, and the wonderful personalities that occupy this chapter, everything is just wonderful!

And I think it is a great idea to point out that you borrowed a few characters from other people's fiction with their permission. It helps avoid the confusion that can happen when such borrowing goes on without clearing it with the character's creator first. Thanks!

You paint Bravil as a fascinatingly foreboding place! It seems to fit your story perfectly and I applaud you taking a slightly different path with it.

'Every inch of them not covered by moss and fungi was taken up by the remains of crates and barrels now so rotten even fire would reject them.'
I very much enjoyed your phrasing here!

It continues to be wonderful to hear of the Oblivion crisis via rumors and second hand information. Using a degree of confusion regarding whether the Kvatch gate was closed by Julian or Jerric works so perfectly here!

I love the decomposing welcoming committee, it made me think of a Caribbean port with dead pirates.

Yellow cinnabar polyphore, for example, had marvelous restorative capabilities, excellent for the heart and lungs. We also harvested several heads of lavender, which Faith then showed me how to brew together with the equally widespread cairn bolete into a potion for restoring lost blood.

So much more interesting than saying “restore endurance” or “restore health.” I really like this part!

“Fine mountain spring water, fresh from the Ethe! You have never had clearer water than this, my friends!”

This touch really brought the mold and decay home, even the local water is probably gross.

My curiosity got the better of me. “What sort of official business?” I asked before I could catch myself. The porter looked slightly taken aback at my directness, but seemed to recover once he caught the embarrassment flooding my cheeks.

I enjoyed Derelas’s very Bosmer exchange with Vincent. The contradictory reports of the Gate closing were great! In the game all of the rumors are the same, but in a world with limited communication there would be a lot of conflicting information making the rounds.

@mALX: Many thanks!

@SubRosa: I took the idea from two places. A: Your take on Bravil being an old silver mining boom-town (hence your conclusion), and B: from the Better Cities rendition of the town, which really drives home the point that this is the worst place in Cyrodiil to live save the Waterfront.
I looked at your suggestion, but decided instead of changing that sentence, I could add a little tidbit using your advice to flesh things out, so there's now a little extra bit there.

@Rick:Thank you much! I'm glad you find my world-building to be so inspirational!

@rider: Ramshackle everything! I wish to communicate that the only things endearing about the city are the Lady's statue and the chapel.
The first nit is picked, but the second nit I left, as that is Dere's voice (which is strikingly similar to mine, as well). You might see a few more verb-heavy sentences later on, but I will be careful to keep the count low.

@Acadian: I do my best to give this story all the details of a mystery novel, complex plot, confusion over familiar events... etc. Also, there is a lot more to most of the character here, and their motivations, than meets the eye. Trust that there will be a bombshell or two in the near future.

@Grits: Thank you for your kind words. I'm glad you thought that my little reference to Julian and Jerric worked so well.

@all: Now that we have set the scene, it is time to get some gears rolling. It's time to have our first real conversation with Tadrose, after all, and she means business!

next: More answers, but still more questions. Also, a little present for our hero...






It was a relatively short wait for me back in the lobby. The moment we surfaced Tadrose asked, or rather demanded, that the room be cleared. The two sparring guild members were quick to disperse, making their way outside to continue their session, but Vincent was a bit different. He tried to protest, but quickly paled under a gaze so stern and fiery I could swear I saw tears of lava. She had then made a brief interlude upstairs to change her clothes, and now she was returning down the stairs, clad in a simple dark blue tunic. As she walked toward me, I noted how it accented her wiry feminine muscles and features in just the right places. There might be several people outside who wouldn’t mind a night or three in bed with her, but I quickly put those thoughts away, or at least tried.

“You are aware of the present state of affairs regarding yourself, correct?” Tadrose immediately asked me once she had closed the distance between us. She seemed remarkably similar to Faith in a way; same hair, same demeanor, even the same lithe build. This made me wonder what Faith might look like when she was not clad in bulky leathers.

“Hey, you awake?” Tadrose suddenly snapped, catapulting my thoughts back to Nirn.

“Yes, sorry,” I responded. “To answer your question, yes, I am aware that an ancient vampire is keeping tabs on me.”

“And now the Dark Brotherhood has moved on your life,” Tadrose finished. “I was hoping this would wait until much later, once you’d had time to acquaint yourself with the province, but obviously that’s smoke on the wind now.”

“Erm… what are you talking about?” I inquired perplexedly.

“The Children of Dawn, I trust you’ve been briefed on them?” Tadrose quipped briskly. This woman really meant business.

“Yes,” I replied, “but what do they have to do with this? I thought I was looking for aid from the Fighters Guild?”

“And you still are,” Tadrose replied. “We received the contract from the Children many years ago, kept on suspension until they deemed it time. It would appear that time is now.”

My head was sent reeling from this revelation. Years ago? Had they been planning for my arrival? Could they be responsible for my parents’ disappearance? The very thought of them being behind such a deed made me cringe and also planted a heavy dose of skepticism into my mind. Did these people, despite Faith’s help in keeping me breathing, really have my best interests in mind?

“How can I trust you?” I then finished my thoughts aloud.

“A wise question,” Tadrose replied. “Wait here.”

For a second time, she returned upstairs. This time, however, it took her a much shorter time to return. And when she did, she was carrying what looked like a thin stick. It was painted a glossy white which glinted energetically in the firelight. Every so often, the white turned to gold as brilliantly flowing natural patterns danced their way across the lengths. I then made out the presence of a hilt; this was a blade.

“We are aware of what happened to your kin,” Tadrose continued, “This is all we could recover.”

“Where did you find that,” I demanded, voice slightly croaky. I had recognized that sheath the moment I saw it… my father’s blade.

“The ruin is called Nornalhorst, and I shall not speak any further of it,” Tadrose replied, motioning for me to remain still and not bolt for the door as I most certainly had given away. “After a week’s passage without news from the expedition force, the Guild of Archaeology contracted us to find them. Unfortunately, we failed.”

My heart seemed to evaporate, as did my lungs. Failed? No, that’s not possible. My dad wouldn’t just disappear off the face of Mundus.

“Please,” Tadrose beckoned me as I opened my mouth to respond, forcing me to back down once again, “please save your questions and allow me to finish.

“As I was saying, we were unsuccessful,” Tadrose continued, shifting her grip on my father’s blade. “But not completely. We know not of what happened to those souls who disappeared, but we did find several of their belongings. This blade is inscribed with your family’s crest, right here.”

She brought the blade forth, indicating an engraving upon the hilt. I had never thought I would ever see the Kissing Mares again. My eyes were burning with tears at the sight.

“It is time this blade was returned to her rightful owner,” Tadrose then declared, holding the gleaming white sheath at arms length. “I believe that makes this yours, now.”

I took the blade in my two hands wordlessly. The very instant my hand touched the hilt, a nondescript warmth flooded through my fingertips as a brilliant orange glow pulsed through the golden bands. The blade rang with conviction and joy as I drew the blinding silver from its lightly curving sheath, just enough to reveal the coat of arms forged into the metal. It was so immaculate it would still shine forth even if all the lights in the world were extinguished. The Kissing Mares were seen once again where the blade met the pommel, and a subtle glow of orange that had nothing to do with the fire nearby remained ever present.

Screenshot

It was impossible for me to speak. Just holding his blade once again had caused my voice to fail. After examining every inch of it, I returned the sword to its sheath after what seemed like hours. Turning back to Tadrose, who was standing in silence out of either pity or respect for my father, she took the return of my attention as the signal to continue.

“Once again, the Children were involved in that contract. Several of their members were present in the search alongside the Guild. They were the ones who identified the perpetrators as vampires, for they had always been suspicious of Nornalhorst playing host to a brood. That everyone disappeared, however, was cause for alarm for them. Normal vampires just feed off the victims and leave them where they fell, you see. No, the Children decided this meant the presence of an ancient.”

“Forgive me for asking,” I interrupted, wiping away the tears from my eyes, “but what in the name of Y’ffre makes an ancient so bad?”

“That they are very old vampires who have unlocked their true strength,” Tadrose replied. “Most broodspawn, which are what account for most of the vampires in this world, are not aware of what they are capable of. However, that is beside the point. Why the Children thought he would target you in particular I do not know, but they are funding the contract so I am not one to question them.”

“What of the Brotherhood,” I persisted with my inquiries, “what do they have to do with this?”

“A reinforcement to the Children’s position,” Tadrose replied. “They believe the one whom the ancient will take is the same one whom the Brotherhood will try to kill.”

Why did I get the feeling Tadrose was keeping something from me about this ancient?

“And this contract is to protect my life?” I then asked.

“I’m sorry, but the details are not for your ears,” Tadrose brushed away my question. This all but confirmed my conclusion; now I knew Tadrose was keeping something from me. “But yes, we will be working to keep you alive, if you wish to know.”

She then dismissed me, requesting that I remain in the city until I heard from her again. She also directed me to visit the chapel of Mara and ask for Marz to see to my wound. With that, I turned to leave the guild as the sun’s last rays disappeared over the crumbling walls of the city.




----




Once the door snapped shut, Tadrose immediately strode for her quarters with speed rivaling a jay on the wind. Locking the door behind her, she quickly drew forth a quill and inkpot, along with some parchment and began to scribble away. Her fingers were a blur of activity as she wrote.

White Wolf:

The Brotherhood has moved. Far sooner than we had hoped, possibly the work of Valtieri. We cannot keep him here forever, not in a city so well connected to him. We may need to call the Shadowblades into service if things get messy here, which they will. You know where. Recommend relocating to Anvil with all haste.

Swamp Fox

Once finished, she placed the letter into an envelope and sealed it not with the Fighters Guild seal, but with a blank one. The letter remained without an address.

“Vincent!” Tadrose called, returning to the lobby. The steel mail-clad Breton was quick to respond.

“Ma’am?”

Tadrose handed him the envelope. “You know who this is for,” Tadrose stated, “be quick.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Vincent replied, eying the blank seal as he hurried for the door.

I think a sword with kissing mares on the hilt is such a beautiful idea! Brilliant!

So Tadrose is a fox? We knew that!

Nits:
“The ruin is called Nornalhorst, and I shall not speak any further of it,” Tadrose replied, motioning for me to remain still and bolt for the door as I most certainly had given away. “After a week’s passage without news from the expedition force, the Guild of Archaeology contracted us to find them. Unfortunately, we failed.”
I am unsure what the bolded part means.

'My dad wouldn’t just disappear of the face of the Earth.'
I would change the first 'of' to 'off' and you might also consider substituting Nirn for Earth?

“But yes, it we will be working to keep you alive, if you wish to know.”
This does not make sense, but I think removing the 'it' would remedy that.

I really enjoy the way you consistantly keep us hanging, not unlike a chef teasing the palate before the next course. You done it again with the mysterious letter to White Wolf. WTG Chef!

I caught the same nit that Acadian did -
“The ruin is called Nornalhorst, and I shall not speak any further of it,” Tadrose replied, motioning for me to remain still and {not} bolt for the door as I most certainly had given away.
I am assuming the not was missing.

Mysteriouser and mysteriouser!

Dere's father's blade returns! However, its appearance adds to the mystery. What really happened to his parents? Why is an ancient after him? Why are the Children of Dawn so vested in his survival?

I'm certain all will be answered in due time.

Acadian already caught my nits.

The mystery grows deeper and more intriguing with each chapter!!!


My fave line has to be this:


"With that, I turned to leave the guild as the sun’s last rays disappeared over the crumbling walls of the city."


Slipped in so easily a reminder of his first impression of Bravil, Awesome Chapter !!!

Just read Chapter 1. You know, starting a story with a dream sequence can degenerate into cliche unless the writer knows what he/she is doing. You, sir, know what you are doing! You had me at 'Y'ffre'. I'll be back when I've caught up.

I have been meaning to ask for a while now: you treat us all pictures of the towns and places Derelas goes, but not to any of our Bosmer bowman himself. How about some beefcake shots of our intrepid wood elf?

I could swear I saw tears of lava
A wonderful phrase.

There might be several people outside who wouldn’t mind a night or three in bed with her
I can think of a stringy Bosmer who would like to sign up for that!

Did these people, despite Faith’s help in keeping me breathing, really have my best interests in mind?
This is what I keep wondering.

A wonderful description of Derelas' drawing of the sword. However you might want to put a little more description of the sword itself in the text. That is is single bladed, has a curve, etc... I know you have the picture, but it might not be there in all formats.

Why did I get the feeling Tadrose was keeping something from me about this ancient?
Why do I get the same feeling? It seems that between her and the CoD, people are keeping an awful lot from our Dere. Which makes them rather hard to trust. Poor Derelas, what has gotten himself into!