Full Version: Knights of the Nine - New Kvatch
I know it seems mild, but I liked the Freudian Slip with the Ni--err--the Eight!
I shamefully hang my head and beg pardon from the great and powerful McBadgere for my lack of postage on Her Highness's story, I do assure you the next post is currently in process and will be brought to you shortly.
KOTN is moving along wonderfully and getting more and more suspenseful by the moment. Wonderful write my friend, looking forward to more. I was with him in the rain and feeling, it seems, much like he was I believe.
I do enjoy your 'outside the box' thinking, the way you fold the magic into the story works so well. Keep up the good work I am looking forward to the progression.
KOTN is moving along wonderfully and getting more and more suspenseful by the moment. Wonderful write my friend, looking forward to more. I was with him in the rain and feeling, it seems, much like he was I believe.
I do enjoy your 'outside the box' thinking, the way you fold the magic into the story works so well. Keep up the good work I am looking forward to the progression.
All caught up again....for now.
So assuming that my memory isn't cracked and pitted as usual, I believe our mighty Bosmer (small in stature, great in deeds), is a new character. Or at least, I don't remember him popping up before the Areldur storyline. I do like him however. He's got wit and seems to ultimately be on the side of the anti-Thalmor, though with more patience and willing to endure mental torment than most. Most people in his position would have probably tried to take out Tcheet and one-eye already.
I also like how his method of major magic appears to depend on the abilities and consent of a remote third party. (Probably a KOTN or someone affiliated with that group and its patrons.) Especially the mouths were awesome. They have this otherwordly and disturbing vibe I really enjoyed.
Speaking of magic, I like how you continue to use it to drive away the technological stasis/regression that plagues so many fantasy-worlds. At its heart it is still identifiable as sword and sorcery, but we now get lightbulbs, boat engines and plenty more stuff. Add onto that the newer spells, the new politics etc. I really like it.
And finally the slavespy-insertion. It sounds very convincing and is just the kind of thing I would expect a power to do. If I had to nitpick, I'd say the crew and captain of the mighty Bullwhipped were a bit too cocky with their sneaky insults. What if the Thalmor decided to send a linguistic with them, possibly for means of educating the slaves? Ah well, they'd probably either suck it up, or take the slaves anyway and then try to kill the dealers some way sometime.
So assuming that my memory isn't cracked and pitted as usual, I believe our mighty Bosmer (small in stature, great in deeds), is a new character. Or at least, I don't remember him popping up before the Areldur storyline. I do like him however. He's got wit and seems to ultimately be on the side of the anti-Thalmor, though with more patience and willing to endure mental torment than most. Most people in his position would have probably tried to take out Tcheet and one-eye already.
I also like how his method of major magic appears to depend on the abilities and consent of a remote third party. (Probably a KOTN or someone affiliated with that group and its patrons.) Especially the mouths were awesome. They have this otherwordly and disturbing vibe I really enjoyed.
Speaking of magic, I like how you continue to use it to drive away the technological stasis/regression that plagues so many fantasy-worlds. At its heart it is still identifiable as sword and sorcery, but we now get lightbulbs, boat engines and plenty more stuff. Add onto that the newer spells, the new politics etc. I really like it.
And finally the slavespy-insertion. It sounds very convincing and is just the kind of thing I would expect a power to do. If I had to nitpick, I'd say the crew and captain of the mighty Bullwhipped were a bit too cocky with their sneaky insults. What if the Thalmor decided to send a linguistic with them, possibly for means of educating the slaves? Ah well, they'd probably either suck it up, or take the slaves anyway and then try to kill the dealers some way sometime.
Hallooo!!!... 
...
Thanks for continuing along this freefalling joyride with me...I appreciate it muchly...Always...
Acadian, cheers matey!!...As for what will happen to Nol at the Halwich Building, it may be worse than a dungeon...
...
Grits, thankee very much!!...Making up new magicks is part of the fun of this for me...(See new part for more!!)...Thanks so much for the continued support...Muchly much...
mALX, you have no problem with the Androforms, the Mriizeleft, the Divines or the ship engines but a simple arrangement of plumbing is odd?...
... 
...Just kidding...I thought as we're some hundred years on from Oblivion, surely someone should have invented indoor plumbing by now... ...Thank you so much for keeping with me on this...I appreciate it so much...Thank you...
Zalphon, awright matey!!...Cheers muchly...It matters not how much of it you liked, if you only liked that bit, it is wholeheartedly appreciated...Thank you for reading...*Bows*...
Athynae, *chips off frost to find rest of post*...
...Oh, there it is...Thank you so much...You know how much you hassle me as much as I hassle you. ..And it's always brilliant...Thank you...Muchly thank you...
Jaaaack!!...Wow...Thank you soooo much...That's really kind of you...I could go down the many points you make, but through it all I would just keep saying thank you...So...Thank you so much...
Oh, though about General Deaconsson's pushing it with the translated barbs...Yes, some of - what I'm thinking of as - the Legacy Knights (descendants of early years Knights-OTN) can have a big dose of arrogance and entitlement to them...More on this (Knights, Generation Knights, Legacy Knights, Brother Knights, etc) at a later date...Much later date...
Aaaamywho...
NEW PARTS ALERT!!!...
Where we were...
The Bosmer Aide Trellanwr had fought his way out of trouble, cleaned himself up, lost the guard assigned to trail him, headed to the Healing Temple to forewarn Fleet Admiral Nol Areldur of his meeting with Overlord Tcheet of the Thalmor...He left said Temple with one last stop to make...
Knights of The Nine – Empire. 3E 604
Interlude – Trellanwr.
One Day At A Time. (part 4.)
10 Years Earlier. Alinor, Summerset Isles.
Invisible again, Trellanwr headed for the fastest route to the commerce district – Upwards.
From his long study of the city, he knew very well from which roof to start. The Aide scaled the first of the buildings and briefly stood looking southwest, visualising his route.
Trellanwr realised that this wasn’t going to work without employing Hydrofail magicks. A pretty nasty form of localised destruction magic, verging on evil, if employed as a weapon, the Hydrofail cloak forcefully removed all water from your local area, while you stood at the centre, your own humours unmolested. Trellanwr had seen its effect on a body. It was not a pretty sight.
The Bosmer sighed and thought, Still, you can’t jump through rain, land on the rooves of buildings and expect to stay upright.
The link-cheat with his sister aside, the Bosmer wasn’t particularly overburdened with magicks as such – some of his peers had been far beyond him in magic abilities. Trellanwr had, however, been employing magic since he was very young, and this practice had led to his being able to stack multiple effect spells without having to worry about them failing. Invisibility, strength fortifier, focus. Lastly he cast the Hydrofail and backed up a short way. The Bosmer stared at his landing point on the other roof, and began.
Run-plant-jump-land-set-run-plant-jump-land-set, a pattern began. Trellanwr saw nothing but the route ahead. His peripheral vision registered that even through the rain the sea was becoming more of a feature, as he headed vaguely towards it.
A – briefly – dry path followed the Bosmer as he ran, the Hydrofail cloak simply shoving the water to one side as his feet touched slate or whatever other roof material he passed over. Any time an ascending path was necessitated, the handholds became bone dry.
This way, he covered quite some considerable distance in a very short space of time.
He was breathing hard from the running, but no more than from the usual exercise regime he put himself through. Even so, he felt a degree of satisfaction to see his destination below.
He looked about himself then descended via nearby rooves to the street level.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
As Trellanwr entered the emporium known as The Aisles of Wonder, the owner looked over from where he was dealing with a customer.
Despite his mood, a smile spread over the Aide’s face as he heard the man – Farisce – shout, “My good friend Trellanwr! A joy for this day!” The Bosmer couldn’t help but smile when he was around Farisce.
A larger than life man of Imperial descent, Farisce was as tall and wide as a Nord with a personality to match. His family were of the DaTyrk, a nomadic tribe that hailed from the southern Elsweyr region of Cypriit, thus his colouring spoke of the blessing his ancestors had had from travelling beneath unending sunshine. Though being of Imperial race out of Elsweyr, his sales skills spoke pure Khajiit.
“Everyone! Everyone!” Farisce continued, his light brown eyes twinkling mischief, “Make way for Overlord Tcheet’s right hand man!”
Trellanwr had to suppress a wide grin as he watched the shop simply clear, as several people suddenly decided that they had pressing business elsewhere.
“Should I be offended by that?” he asked the DaTyrk.
“Ha-Haaa!” Farisce grinned broadly for a time, but then his smile faded as he approached the soaked Bosmer, “My oldest friend, even the most soul-blinded person could see your mood is as dark as those clouds at the sky. What ails you brother? Come!” Farisce beckoned the Aide to follow towards the back of the shop. The DaTyrk placed himself behind the counter and held a hand up to stop Trellanwr before he could begin talking.
Farisce made a fist, and the Bosmer watched as the conjuration magicks played around it until the DaTyrk released it with a flick of his fingers. A Gloom-Wraith appeared a short distance away, hanging in the air with its familiar arms out, head hung down appearance. The Wraith tilted its head as it regarded Trellanwr and made a quiet mournful whine.
“Yes yes, it’s him.” Farisce said to the Wraith, “I’m sure he’s pleased to see you too. Now go watch the shop, we don’t want any unforeseen guests do we?”
The Gloom-Wraith made another mournful sound and turned about, heading slowly down the aisle.
“And don’t touch anything!” the DaTyrk shouted, “You’ll get goop on the stuff!” he looked at Trellanwr, “People don’t like goop on their stuff.” Farisce shook his head seriously while wiping his hands on his cream robes.
The Bosmer raised his eyebrows in a mock-shock gesture.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
“It’s been a bit of a morning, to be honest-”
“Ad!” Farisce pointed at Trellanwr, “Ad-ad-ad!”
“Add what?”
The DaTyrk frowned, “Nooo, silly, I have just the cure for your mood!”
“I don’t really have time-”
“Ssssshhhhh! There’s always time. Now what do you think of this!” Farisce reached under the counter and lifted up what appeared to be a representation of a Gloom-Wraith – complete with crown – on a spring, attached to a wooden base. He placed the mini-Wraith on the counter.
“What is it?” asked Trellanwr with a quizzical look on his face.
A whine was heard from the other end of the shop, “You mind your language you!” Farisce shouted back, “Nobody asked for your opinion. My dear brother, it’s a toy!” the DaTyrk said, grinning, and for effect pulled the wraith back and released it, so that it wobbled around on its spring. “The finest Yokudan wafer-metal work.” Farisce pointed and nodded proudly, “You can play with it on your desk!” and just for further proof, he pulled it back and released it again.
“Why would?..Nevermind.” The Bosmer then related the tale of the morning so far.
Farisce made shocked noises and punctuated the conversation with bursts of his colourful Cypriit tongue. As Trellanwr produced the lists of names, Farisce took the paper and read through them. His face darkened and he produced a long and profound litany in purest Cypriit that even Trellanwr was hard pressed to follow.
“Can you get keep this safe until Bar’cloore makes another run?”
Farisce nodded in reply, not taking his eyes off the list. “They can have it sooner than that.”
“Oh? Oh, of course, it’s not been long since he’s been about then?”
The DaTyrk just looked at Trellanwr and tilted his head.
“Oh, right, you can’t tell me anything.”
Farisce bowed his head in apology then went back to the lists. “There’s only one way this travesty can be righted brother. I can see no other way out of this.”
Trellanwr frowned and looked questioningly at the shopkeep.
The DaTyrk reached under the counter and proudly flourished, “A box of spiced tea from Yokuda! For you, change from ten goldmarks!”
A slightly shocked but less surprised Trellanwr shook his head and asked, “How much change?”
“Well, one brass. But that’s doing myself down!”
Trellanwr laughed.
“There it is!” cried Farisce with the broadest smile. “Ah brother, we live in dangerous times, where even the good, great and mighty may tremble at the slightest shadow. It is good to see you still alive.”
“And you my friend.”
“What of this Areldur you’re to see? From what I hear, this,” Farisce waved one of the lists, “is not the sort of news he would take lightly.”
“He doesn’t know yet. I’m to take him to The Halwich Building to meet the Overlord...really quite soon actually.”
“The Halwich Building?”
Trellanwr nodded.
“What horrible ironic torture does our beloved Overlord have in store there, I wonder? He is a most vexing individual.” Farisce sighed.
There was silence for a second, a silence which was suddenly filled by the noise of the Gloom-Wraith squealing as it knocked something over. It moved away from the detritus, keening quietly to itself.
Farisce sighed and rubbed a hand down his face.
“I’d best go.” Said the Bosmer.
The DaTyrk nodded. “Ah, a sadness. Very well. Be safe brother.”
Farisce extended his arm and Trellanwr grasped it in the show of brotherhood. The Bosmer nodded his head in farewell and then made his way towards the door.
“Wait!” shouted the shopkeep.
Trellanwr spun around quickly but sagged somewhat as he saw what Farisce was holding.
“Map?” the DaTyrk said.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
As if the rain had actually been mirroring the Bosmer’s mood, the clouds were lightening as Trellanwr made his way quickly back to the healing Temple. Not quite at the break-neck speed as before, nevertheless, the Aide still needed to be back quickly.
He and Areldur still had to make the meeting promptly, so there would be little time for the Fleet Admiral’s brand of hysterics.
Over the previous few days, Trellanwr had visited Nol Areldur several times as he began to recover. What surprised the Bosmer the most about the visits was how easy it was to like the Fleet Admiral; and how fascinated he had become with the tales of the sea that Areldur would suddenly launch into. And so, while Trellanwr, Aide to Overlord Tcheet, would most definitely never suggest that anything approaching friendship was forming, the Bosmer that was Trellanwr would admit to himself that mutual respect would not be far from the truth of it.
Trellanwr had decided to tell the Fleet Admiral the truth about Cestra from the start, instead of having Tcheet simply drop it on Areldur as an aside, as he imagined the Overlord might delight in. However, knowing what had happened with the news of his daughter’s death, the Bosmer had concerns over how this news would be received.
But still, if he lost it again here, at least the Fleet Admiral was already where he could be put back together, again. Trellanwr thought.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Bosmer made his way through the Temple. When he reached the ward that had been tasked with the care of the Fleet Admiral, the first thing he saw on coming through the double doors was the room to one side, containing all the bodies of the guards.
Didn’t I just leave this party? He thought to himself.
“Oh, it’s you.” Said a voice.
Trellanwr turned his head, “Again, Maircaln, the delight I feel at our repeated meeting never begins, sorry, ends...Yes, meant ends there. Is Areldur ready?”
The healer nodded. “When will my investigator be here?”
“Well, I sent someone to get him, so I should imagine it will be when he gets here. May I?” The Bosmer gestured towards the room of the Fleet Admiral.
Maircaln looked as if she was about to say something, thought better of it and waved Trellanwr away, taking herself off to the nurses congregated around a workstation, to read some notes.
“Trellanwr.” Maircaln called to his retreating back.
The Bosmer turned and said menacingly, “Aide Trellanwr.”
“Be careful with him. It would be a waste to have to patch him up again.”
The Aide smirked to himself as he turned away. “I’ll be sure to mention your concerns to the Overlord, Maircaln.”
He reached the door and a knot of apprehension formed in the pit of his stomach. Dammit, get it together. Trellanwr pushed the door open.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
“So, are we going far and do I get a comfort break in the middle? I am old you know?” said the Fleet Admiral as soon as the Bosmer entered the room.
Trellanwr counted off on his fingers. “No; No; No you’re not, you’re barely middle aged. We’re not going that far...” The Bosmer trailed off and walked to the window. He noted that the rain had finally stopped, though the thick blanket of cloud refused to surrender its grip.
A growling noise came from his middle. Trellanwr frowned and sighed whilst rubbing his empty stomach.
“Aww, did we forget to eat before we skipped out to serve this morning?”
Trellanwr regarded the Fleet Admiral, “You know when people make empty bragging declarations, usually about having done something before breakfast?”
“Yes?”
“Well I’ve done rather a lot this morning, including, it has to be said, kill over a dozen guards...Well, with a little help.”
Areldur shook his head, stopped and then gestured with it towards the other room that contained the bodies.
“Yes, I’m aware of those. Ah...Yes, about them...” Trellanwr suddenly felt weak. He closed his eyes, rubbed his neck and cast a restorative. As he reopened his eyes, he took a step back. The Fleet Admiral was stood in front of him, holding out a plate with a couple of pieces of toast on them.
“Go on, I can’t eat them, looks like you will need them for what we’re off to do.”
“Oh damn.” Trellanwr sighed exasperatedly. “Look, there’s no time for this. Please, sit down...Please?”
The Altmer frowned and sat on the bed, the plate beside him.
“Look...Nol...”
“Don’t worry, lad.” Areldur said softly, “I know.”
Trellanwr frowned.
Nol nodded, “I know.”
“What? How?”
The Fleet Admiral smiled, “Just one of the mysteries of the Universe for you. Was it worth it? Did Ces hurt him at all?”
“Yes...Not permanently though...Well, maybe she did more invisible damage, he had quite the flash-burn on his head...” Trellanwr sighed, and watched as the Fleet Admiral stared at out of the windows, lost in some past memory. “I’m sorry...Nol...We have to go. Now.”
Nol Areldur nodded, stood up and pulled his casual clothes straight. “I miss my damned uniform.” He said.
Trellanwr smiled, crossed to the door and held it open for the Fleet Admiral. As Areldur passed, the Bosmer saluted.
Nol laughed, “Nice try, lad.”
“I am sorry. For all of it.” Trellanwr said quietly.
The Fleet Admiral nodded.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
...Thanks for continuing along this freefalling joyride with me...I appreciate it muchly...Always...
Acadian, cheers matey!!...As for what will happen to Nol at the Halwich Building, it may be worse than a dungeon...
...Grits, thankee very much!!...Making up new magicks is part of the fun of this for me...(See new part for more!!)...Thanks so much for the continued support...Muchly much...
mALX, you have no problem with the Androforms, the Mriizeleft, the Divines or the ship engines but a simple arrangement of plumbing is odd?...
... ...Just kidding...I thought as we're some hundred years on from Oblivion, surely someone should have invented indoor plumbing by now... ...Thank you so much for keeping with me on this...I appreciate it so much...Thank you...Zalphon, awright matey!!...Cheers muchly...It matters not how much of it you liked, if you only liked that bit, it is wholeheartedly appreciated...Thank you for reading...*Bows*...
Athynae, *chips off frost to find rest of post*...
...Oh, there it is...Thank you so much...You know how much you hassle me as much as I hassle you. ..And it's always brilliant...Thank you...Muchly thank you...Jaaaack!!...Wow...Thank you soooo much...That's really kind of you...I could go down the many points you make, but through it all I would just keep saying thank you...So...Thank you so much...
Oh, though about General Deaconsson's pushing it with the translated barbs...Yes, some of - what I'm thinking of as - the Legacy Knights (descendants of early years Knights-OTN) can have a big dose of arrogance and entitlement to them...More on this (Knights, Generation Knights, Legacy Knights, Brother Knights, etc) at a later date...Much later date...
Aaaamywho...
NEW PARTS ALERT!!!...
Where we were...
The Bosmer Aide Trellanwr had fought his way out of trouble, cleaned himself up, lost the guard assigned to trail him, headed to the Healing Temple to forewarn Fleet Admiral Nol Areldur of his meeting with Overlord Tcheet of the Thalmor...He left said Temple with one last stop to make...
Knights of The Nine – Empire. 3E 604
Interlude – Trellanwr.
One Day At A Time. (part 4.)
10 Years Earlier. Alinor, Summerset Isles.
Invisible again, Trellanwr headed for the fastest route to the commerce district – Upwards.
From his long study of the city, he knew very well from which roof to start. The Aide scaled the first of the buildings and briefly stood looking southwest, visualising his route.
Trellanwr realised that this wasn’t going to work without employing Hydrofail magicks. A pretty nasty form of localised destruction magic, verging on evil, if employed as a weapon, the Hydrofail cloak forcefully removed all water from your local area, while you stood at the centre, your own humours unmolested. Trellanwr had seen its effect on a body. It was not a pretty sight.
The Bosmer sighed and thought, Still, you can’t jump through rain, land on the rooves of buildings and expect to stay upright.
The link-cheat with his sister aside, the Bosmer wasn’t particularly overburdened with magicks as such – some of his peers had been far beyond him in magic abilities. Trellanwr had, however, been employing magic since he was very young, and this practice had led to his being able to stack multiple effect spells without having to worry about them failing. Invisibility, strength fortifier, focus. Lastly he cast the Hydrofail and backed up a short way. The Bosmer stared at his landing point on the other roof, and began.
Run-plant-jump-land-set-run-plant-jump-land-set, a pattern began. Trellanwr saw nothing but the route ahead. His peripheral vision registered that even through the rain the sea was becoming more of a feature, as he headed vaguely towards it.
A – briefly – dry path followed the Bosmer as he ran, the Hydrofail cloak simply shoving the water to one side as his feet touched slate or whatever other roof material he passed over. Any time an ascending path was necessitated, the handholds became bone dry.
This way, he covered quite some considerable distance in a very short space of time.
He was breathing hard from the running, but no more than from the usual exercise regime he put himself through. Even so, he felt a degree of satisfaction to see his destination below.
He looked about himself then descended via nearby rooves to the street level.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
As Trellanwr entered the emporium known as The Aisles of Wonder, the owner looked over from where he was dealing with a customer.
Despite his mood, a smile spread over the Aide’s face as he heard the man – Farisce – shout, “My good friend Trellanwr! A joy for this day!” The Bosmer couldn’t help but smile when he was around Farisce.
A larger than life man of Imperial descent, Farisce was as tall and wide as a Nord with a personality to match. His family were of the DaTyrk, a nomadic tribe that hailed from the southern Elsweyr region of Cypriit, thus his colouring spoke of the blessing his ancestors had had from travelling beneath unending sunshine. Though being of Imperial race out of Elsweyr, his sales skills spoke pure Khajiit.
“Everyone! Everyone!” Farisce continued, his light brown eyes twinkling mischief, “Make way for Overlord Tcheet’s right hand man!”
Trellanwr had to suppress a wide grin as he watched the shop simply clear, as several people suddenly decided that they had pressing business elsewhere.
“Should I be offended by that?” he asked the DaTyrk.
“Ha-Haaa!” Farisce grinned broadly for a time, but then his smile faded as he approached the soaked Bosmer, “My oldest friend, even the most soul-blinded person could see your mood is as dark as those clouds at the sky. What ails you brother? Come!” Farisce beckoned the Aide to follow towards the back of the shop. The DaTyrk placed himself behind the counter and held a hand up to stop Trellanwr before he could begin talking.
Farisce made a fist, and the Bosmer watched as the conjuration magicks played around it until the DaTyrk released it with a flick of his fingers. A Gloom-Wraith appeared a short distance away, hanging in the air with its familiar arms out, head hung down appearance. The Wraith tilted its head as it regarded Trellanwr and made a quiet mournful whine.
“Yes yes, it’s him.” Farisce said to the Wraith, “I’m sure he’s pleased to see you too. Now go watch the shop, we don’t want any unforeseen guests do we?”
The Gloom-Wraith made another mournful sound and turned about, heading slowly down the aisle.
“And don’t touch anything!” the DaTyrk shouted, “You’ll get goop on the stuff!” he looked at Trellanwr, “People don’t like goop on their stuff.” Farisce shook his head seriously while wiping his hands on his cream robes.
The Bosmer raised his eyebrows in a mock-shock gesture.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
“It’s been a bit of a morning, to be honest-”
“Ad!” Farisce pointed at Trellanwr, “Ad-ad-ad!”
“Add what?”
The DaTyrk frowned, “Nooo, silly, I have just the cure for your mood!”
“I don’t really have time-”
“Ssssshhhhh! There’s always time. Now what do you think of this!” Farisce reached under the counter and lifted up what appeared to be a representation of a Gloom-Wraith – complete with crown – on a spring, attached to a wooden base. He placed the mini-Wraith on the counter.
“What is it?” asked Trellanwr with a quizzical look on his face.
A whine was heard from the other end of the shop, “You mind your language you!” Farisce shouted back, “Nobody asked for your opinion. My dear brother, it’s a toy!” the DaTyrk said, grinning, and for effect pulled the wraith back and released it, so that it wobbled around on its spring. “The finest Yokudan wafer-metal work.” Farisce pointed and nodded proudly, “You can play with it on your desk!” and just for further proof, he pulled it back and released it again.
“Why would?..Nevermind.” The Bosmer then related the tale of the morning so far.
Farisce made shocked noises and punctuated the conversation with bursts of his colourful Cypriit tongue. As Trellanwr produced the lists of names, Farisce took the paper and read through them. His face darkened and he produced a long and profound litany in purest Cypriit that even Trellanwr was hard pressed to follow.
“Can you get keep this safe until Bar’cloore makes another run?”
Farisce nodded in reply, not taking his eyes off the list. “They can have it sooner than that.”
“Oh? Oh, of course, it’s not been long since he’s been about then?”
The DaTyrk just looked at Trellanwr and tilted his head.
“Oh, right, you can’t tell me anything.”
Farisce bowed his head in apology then went back to the lists. “There’s only one way this travesty can be righted brother. I can see no other way out of this.”
Trellanwr frowned and looked questioningly at the shopkeep.
The DaTyrk reached under the counter and proudly flourished, “A box of spiced tea from Yokuda! For you, change from ten goldmarks!”
A slightly shocked but less surprised Trellanwr shook his head and asked, “How much change?”
“Well, one brass. But that’s doing myself down!”
Trellanwr laughed.
“There it is!” cried Farisce with the broadest smile. “Ah brother, we live in dangerous times, where even the good, great and mighty may tremble at the slightest shadow. It is good to see you still alive.”
“And you my friend.”
“What of this Areldur you’re to see? From what I hear, this,” Farisce waved one of the lists, “is not the sort of news he would take lightly.”
“He doesn’t know yet. I’m to take him to The Halwich Building to meet the Overlord...really quite soon actually.”
“The Halwich Building?”
Trellanwr nodded.
“What horrible ironic torture does our beloved Overlord have in store there, I wonder? He is a most vexing individual.” Farisce sighed.
There was silence for a second, a silence which was suddenly filled by the noise of the Gloom-Wraith squealing as it knocked something over. It moved away from the detritus, keening quietly to itself.
Farisce sighed and rubbed a hand down his face.
“I’d best go.” Said the Bosmer.
The DaTyrk nodded. “Ah, a sadness. Very well. Be safe brother.”
Farisce extended his arm and Trellanwr grasped it in the show of brotherhood. The Bosmer nodded his head in farewell and then made his way towards the door.
“Wait!” shouted the shopkeep.
Trellanwr spun around quickly but sagged somewhat as he saw what Farisce was holding.
“Map?” the DaTyrk said.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
As if the rain had actually been mirroring the Bosmer’s mood, the clouds were lightening as Trellanwr made his way quickly back to the healing Temple. Not quite at the break-neck speed as before, nevertheless, the Aide still needed to be back quickly.
He and Areldur still had to make the meeting promptly, so there would be little time for the Fleet Admiral’s brand of hysterics.
Over the previous few days, Trellanwr had visited Nol Areldur several times as he began to recover. What surprised the Bosmer the most about the visits was how easy it was to like the Fleet Admiral; and how fascinated he had become with the tales of the sea that Areldur would suddenly launch into. And so, while Trellanwr, Aide to Overlord Tcheet, would most definitely never suggest that anything approaching friendship was forming, the Bosmer that was Trellanwr would admit to himself that mutual respect would not be far from the truth of it.
Trellanwr had decided to tell the Fleet Admiral the truth about Cestra from the start, instead of having Tcheet simply drop it on Areldur as an aside, as he imagined the Overlord might delight in. However, knowing what had happened with the news of his daughter’s death, the Bosmer had concerns over how this news would be received.
But still, if he lost it again here, at least the Fleet Admiral was already where he could be put back together, again. Trellanwr thought.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Bosmer made his way through the Temple. When he reached the ward that had been tasked with the care of the Fleet Admiral, the first thing he saw on coming through the double doors was the room to one side, containing all the bodies of the guards.
Didn’t I just leave this party? He thought to himself.
“Oh, it’s you.” Said a voice.
Trellanwr turned his head, “Again, Maircaln, the delight I feel at our repeated meeting never begins, sorry, ends...Yes, meant ends there. Is Areldur ready?”
The healer nodded. “When will my investigator be here?”
“Well, I sent someone to get him, so I should imagine it will be when he gets here. May I?” The Bosmer gestured towards the room of the Fleet Admiral.
Maircaln looked as if she was about to say something, thought better of it and waved Trellanwr away, taking herself off to the nurses congregated around a workstation, to read some notes.
“Trellanwr.” Maircaln called to his retreating back.
The Bosmer turned and said menacingly, “Aide Trellanwr.”
“Be careful with him. It would be a waste to have to patch him up again.”
The Aide smirked to himself as he turned away. “I’ll be sure to mention your concerns to the Overlord, Maircaln.”
He reached the door and a knot of apprehension formed in the pit of his stomach. Dammit, get it together. Trellanwr pushed the door open.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
“So, are we going far and do I get a comfort break in the middle? I am old you know?” said the Fleet Admiral as soon as the Bosmer entered the room.
Trellanwr counted off on his fingers. “No; No; No you’re not, you’re barely middle aged. We’re not going that far...” The Bosmer trailed off and walked to the window. He noted that the rain had finally stopped, though the thick blanket of cloud refused to surrender its grip.
A growling noise came from his middle. Trellanwr frowned and sighed whilst rubbing his empty stomach.
“Aww, did we forget to eat before we skipped out to serve this morning?”
Trellanwr regarded the Fleet Admiral, “You know when people make empty bragging declarations, usually about having done something before breakfast?”
“Yes?”
“Well I’ve done rather a lot this morning, including, it has to be said, kill over a dozen guards...Well, with a little help.”
Areldur shook his head, stopped and then gestured with it towards the other room that contained the bodies.
“Yes, I’m aware of those. Ah...Yes, about them...” Trellanwr suddenly felt weak. He closed his eyes, rubbed his neck and cast a restorative. As he reopened his eyes, he took a step back. The Fleet Admiral was stood in front of him, holding out a plate with a couple of pieces of toast on them.
“Go on, I can’t eat them, looks like you will need them for what we’re off to do.”
“Oh damn.” Trellanwr sighed exasperatedly. “Look, there’s no time for this. Please, sit down...Please?”
The Altmer frowned and sat on the bed, the plate beside him.
“Look...Nol...”
“Don’t worry, lad.” Areldur said softly, “I know.”
Trellanwr frowned.
Nol nodded, “I know.”
“What? How?”
The Fleet Admiral smiled, “Just one of the mysteries of the Universe for you. Was it worth it? Did Ces hurt him at all?”
“Yes...Not permanently though...Well, maybe she did more invisible damage, he had quite the flash-burn on his head...” Trellanwr sighed, and watched as the Fleet Admiral stared at out of the windows, lost in some past memory. “I’m sorry...Nol...We have to go. Now.”
Nol Areldur nodded, stood up and pulled his casual clothes straight. “I miss my damned uniform.” He said.
Trellanwr smiled, crossed to the door and held it open for the Fleet Admiral. As Areldur passed, the Bosmer saluted.
Nol laughed, “Nice try, lad.”
“I am sorry. For all of it.” Trellanwr said quietly.
The Fleet Admiral nodded.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
I love the character of Trellanwr, you have done an Awesome job developing him! I keep hoping he will be a part of the next chapters, lol. Great Write!
Did you just make a snarky Gloom Wraith shopkeeper as a character? Did you really?
*Rereads chapter*
You did. And thus you make one of those throwaway characters who somehow managed to completely steal the show. Because that Gloom Wraith was awesome; forget this part of the story focussing on Trellanwr! Gloom Wraith, I say! Gloom Wraith!!
Or at the very least, his own spin-off series.
*Rereads chapter*
You did. And thus you make one of those throwaway characters who somehow managed to completely steal the show. Because that Gloom Wraith was awesome; forget this part of the story focussing on Trellanwr! Gloom Wraith, I say! Gloom Wraith!!
Or at the very least, his own spin-off series.
Oh my gosh, I love that the whole rooftop-jumping trip was made possible by a spell that gave Trellanwr a dry landing.
Farisce is another of your instantly captivating characters. This is the part where I try very hard not to ask for a new series, “Tales of the DaTyrk.” At least not yet!!
Ugh, here they go. With Trellanwr already apologizing, it’s got to be pretty bad. I really enjoyed the meeting with Farisce. If the weather reflects Trellanwr's mood in the next part, I guess there will be a storm. Yikes, Nol!!
Farisce is another of your instantly captivating characters. This is the part where I try very hard not to ask for a new series, “Tales of the DaTyrk.” At least not yet!!
QUOTE
“Ssssshhhhh! There’s always time. Now what do you think of this!” Farisce reached under the counter and lifted up what appeared to be a representation of a Gloom-Wraith – complete with crown – on a spring, attached to a wooden base. He placed the mini-Wraith on the counter.
QUOTE
“I am sorry. For all of it.” Trellanwr said quietly.
Ugh, here they go. With Trellanwr already apologizing, it’s got to be pretty bad. I really enjoyed the meeting with Farisce. If the weather reflects Trellanwr's mood in the next part, I guess there will be a storm. Yikes, Nol!!
“What horrible ironic torture does our beloved Overlord have in store there, I wonder? He is a most vexing individual.” Farisce sighed.
That line was priceless; I love sarcastic characters. Also, I fully approve of expanding on Gloom Wraith Shop-Keeper. He's the most iconoclastic character I've ever seen in a TES fan-fiction.
That line was priceless; I love sarcastic characters. Also, I fully approve of expanding on Gloom Wraith Shop-Keeper. He's the most iconoclastic character I've ever seen in a TES fan-fiction.
This episode had a nice feel of bringing things together as Trellanwr links up with Nol and confirms what happened to Cestra. Very neat that Nol was not surprised – about anything. The tall and short elves are a pair of wonderful characters. 
I too, enjoyed the shop keeper and his gloom wraith – particularly the toy bobble-wraith. I do hope you will answer a question that occurred however: Why did Trellanwr visit the shop after his rooftop travels? Did I somehow miss his purpose there or is that still to be revealed?
I too, enjoyed the shop keeper and his gloom wraith – particularly the toy bobble-wraith. I do hope you will answer a question that occurred however: Why did Trellanwr visit the shop after his rooftop travels? Did I somehow miss his purpose there or is that still to be revealed?
Lol, Hobbits!
Hello there... ...Well...*Blows out breath*...Yeah...Sorry about that...
Aaamywho...
New parts alert!!
Thanks for the votes about the Gloom Wraith btw... ...I must confess to giggling a bit meself...Which may be a sin, or at least arogance...But hey-ho...Thank you all very much for yer continued support...It is a blessing, and I love you all for it...*Bows*...Thank you...
As other stories are putting the songs used to inspire the writing...I've decided to do much the same...
So...I proudly present the inaugural...
Songs that Helped the Imagining of This story.
Aaamywho...This is set apart from everything else...Kinda...And is spread over two parts...Because it's long-ish, but more importantly....It's heavy...And possibly confusing...Oh, you're all clever, you'll figure it out... ...The other part will follow soon-ish...-Ish...
P.S. - N.R. = Nirn Reckoning...
--------------------------------------------------
Tales of The Aetherium – Empire.
The Ferryman of Souls (Part 1)
3E 594 N.R.
The God-King, Magnus sat at the centre of his domain, spinning through the blackness at dizzying speeds, locked in a near eternal dance with billions of other God-Kings. Dogged by aloof and distant cousins, Magnus roared out at his neighbours and they roared back as each of them obeyed laws even greater than any one of them; each of them drawn into the circle dance of kings at the party celestial; and each party, just one of a billion other parties in a universe so vast as to be rendered meaningless.
Magnus roared into the silent black. His never-ending, infernal internal rage would last for countless millions of years yet, constantly fed from the fires within.
The few attendant subjects bowed to his will and circled him constantly, bathing in his magnificence. Some taking the full heat of his bellowing; others hiding out on the fringes, barely acknowledged as being there at all.
The God-King favoured one of his court more than the others and bestowed his affections accordingly.
Though she could still feel his scorn from time to time, Nirn sat perfectly in place; and as Magnus beamed with a smile full of unending waves of light, heat and a myriad other exotic promises, she was warmed by his glowing love. Thus she rewarded him with her prettiest dress, full of greens and blues, sandy browns and whites.
As they moved through the near empty fairground, she merrily pirouetted daintily in front of him, always more than an arm’s length away. Magnus would laugh and sometimes, he would blow kisses. Nirn would always glow in return; her display a reward for his love.
The life giver, Magnus roared at the blackness. His face a never static mix of spots, whorls, loops, filaments, spicules and prominences; but Nirn never cared; to her he was perfection itself; although, admittedly, she was as self-centred as a gyroscope.
And if Nirn ever noticed the tiny foreign bodies crawling all over her, crying to each other, “Do not look upon the face of Magnus! For he will not suffer you to stare, and he will strike you blind!” she never once paused in her dance for her God-King to show it.
----------------------------------------------------------------
High above Nirn, a figure hung.
Beyond the bow-shock, where Magnus’ shout is mollified by Nirn’s outstretched hand, what appeared to be a statue of a man, carved from living marble, paused in a pose, most relaxed. His arms wide, though not stretched, one knee bent, his lower leg trailing behind.
Truly immense wings were unfurled, one to each side, catching the full gale of Magnus’s roar.
The Harn’ashall bathed in the sun’s energies.
Few in number, the Harn’ashall were far too busy for more than one to avail himself of Magnus’ magnificence at any one time.
Ferrymen, was one name given to them by the inhabitants of Nirn. From whispers and rumours started by those fortunate to have glimpsed them, or those poor souls whose relationship with Nirn was somehow skewed and were then mocked for their stories, came the name. Ferrymen, Soul Carriers, Bridgeman, the list went on.
Origins of the species forgotten by those who should have known better, lost in a game of finger pointing and question marks, the Harn’ashall were charged with the ferrying of souls from Nirn to Aetherius. A task as immense as it is misunderstood.
Their only reward a brief respite, a catching of Magnus’ breath to recharge.
The alabaster pseudo-feathers of the Harn’ashall’s mighty wings, rippled with a frenzy of barely controlled kinetic potential as they held against the unceasing wind.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Meanwhile, in a plane so difficult to explain its location, that to say it was nearby was as correct as anything else, watched those who had, in fact, created the Harn’ashall.
Beings whose power was unrivalled - they had brought Divines low; they fought their way to and through areas of time so skewed that one foot off the path would have made even the Magick blighted Badlands of Telerapp on the nation of Yokuda look like an adventure playground. They had given the Great Celestial - the They/Them - pause to consider its challenge. Their power was unrivalled, and largely, untested.
At this moment, they stood watching the representation of a Harn’ashall, hanging in space.
Though the three appeared – and were created – identical, save for the accident of the hue of their living marble bodies being different, the mightiest of them turned to her siblings and asked, “Are we doing this? If we are, we have to do it now.”
Her sister nodded once.
Her brother, though his features immobile, she could read him enough to show that he was struggling with a decision.
“Myrrl?” she said kindly, but insistently.
Finally, her brother nodded then turned away.
“House?” the mightiest of the Androforms said to the air.
The Divine Julianos’ mysterious, sentient house indicated that it was ready.
“Very well. House, Begin.”
---------------------------------------------------------------------
The Harn’ashall decided that his time in the joyous glare of the sun was ending and repositioned himself to make the journey back to Nirn.
He was suddenly aware of an expanding of his consciousness. In most beings this could have been caused by several things, in the Harn’ashall however, this could only mean one thing.
My lady. He thought.
“Which?” came the reply.
The Harn’ashall paused, somewhat confused by this. My lady, Arrai? He internalised.
“Nevermind. Harn’ashall-Ka, we need your help.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
...Well...*Blows out breath*...Yeah...Sorry about that...Aaamywho...
New parts alert!!
Thanks for the votes about the Gloom Wraith btw...
...I must confess to giggling a bit meself...Which may be a sin, or at least arogance...But hey-ho...Thank you all very much for yer continued support...It is a blessing, and I love you all for it...*Bows*...Thank you...As other stories are putting the songs used to inspire the writing...I've decided to do much the same...
So...I proudly present the inaugural...
Songs that Helped the Imagining of This story.
Aaamywho...This is set apart from everything else...Kinda...And is spread over two parts...Because it's long-ish, but more importantly....It's heavy...And possibly confusing...Oh, you're all clever, you'll figure it out...
...The other part will follow soon-ish...-Ish...P.S. - N.R. = Nirn Reckoning...
--------------------------------------------------
Trellanwr sighed exasperatedly. “Look, there’s no time for this. Please, sit down...Please?”
The Altmer frowned and sat on the bed, the plate beside him.
“Look...Nol...”
“Don’t worry, lad.” Areldur said softly, “I know.”
Trellanwr frowned.
Nol nodded, “I know.”
“What? How?”
The Fleet Admiral smiled, “Just one of the mysteries of the Universe for you...”
Tales of The Aetherium – Empire.
The Ferryman of Souls (Part 1)
3E 594 N.R.
The God-King, Magnus sat at the centre of his domain, spinning through the blackness at dizzying speeds, locked in a near eternal dance with billions of other God-Kings. Dogged by aloof and distant cousins, Magnus roared out at his neighbours and they roared back as each of them obeyed laws even greater than any one of them; each of them drawn into the circle dance of kings at the party celestial; and each party, just one of a billion other parties in a universe so vast as to be rendered meaningless.
Magnus roared into the silent black. His never-ending, infernal internal rage would last for countless millions of years yet, constantly fed from the fires within.
The few attendant subjects bowed to his will and circled him constantly, bathing in his magnificence. Some taking the full heat of his bellowing; others hiding out on the fringes, barely acknowledged as being there at all.
The God-King favoured one of his court more than the others and bestowed his affections accordingly.
Though she could still feel his scorn from time to time, Nirn sat perfectly in place; and as Magnus beamed with a smile full of unending waves of light, heat and a myriad other exotic promises, she was warmed by his glowing love. Thus she rewarded him with her prettiest dress, full of greens and blues, sandy browns and whites.
As they moved through the near empty fairground, she merrily pirouetted daintily in front of him, always more than an arm’s length away. Magnus would laugh and sometimes, he would blow kisses. Nirn would always glow in return; her display a reward for his love.
The life giver, Magnus roared at the blackness. His face a never static mix of spots, whorls, loops, filaments, spicules and prominences; but Nirn never cared; to her he was perfection itself; although, admittedly, she was as self-centred as a gyroscope.
And if Nirn ever noticed the tiny foreign bodies crawling all over her, crying to each other, “Do not look upon the face of Magnus! For he will not suffer you to stare, and he will strike you blind!” she never once paused in her dance for her God-King to show it.
----------------------------------------------------------------
High above Nirn, a figure hung.
Beyond the bow-shock, where Magnus’ shout is mollified by Nirn’s outstretched hand, what appeared to be a statue of a man, carved from living marble, paused in a pose, most relaxed. His arms wide, though not stretched, one knee bent, his lower leg trailing behind.
Truly immense wings were unfurled, one to each side, catching the full gale of Magnus’s roar.
The Harn’ashall bathed in the sun’s energies.
Few in number, the Harn’ashall were far too busy for more than one to avail himself of Magnus’ magnificence at any one time.
Ferrymen, was one name given to them by the inhabitants of Nirn. From whispers and rumours started by those fortunate to have glimpsed them, or those poor souls whose relationship with Nirn was somehow skewed and were then mocked for their stories, came the name. Ferrymen, Soul Carriers, Bridgeman, the list went on.
Origins of the species forgotten by those who should have known better, lost in a game of finger pointing and question marks, the Harn’ashall were charged with the ferrying of souls from Nirn to Aetherius. A task as immense as it is misunderstood.
Their only reward a brief respite, a catching of Magnus’ breath to recharge.
The alabaster pseudo-feathers of the Harn’ashall’s mighty wings, rippled with a frenzy of barely controlled kinetic potential as they held against the unceasing wind.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Meanwhile, in a plane so difficult to explain its location, that to say it was nearby was as correct as anything else, watched those who had, in fact, created the Harn’ashall.
Beings whose power was unrivalled - they had brought Divines low; they fought their way to and through areas of time so skewed that one foot off the path would have made even the Magick blighted Badlands of Telerapp on the nation of Yokuda look like an adventure playground. They had given the Great Celestial - the They/Them - pause to consider its challenge. Their power was unrivalled, and largely, untested.
At this moment, they stood watching the representation of a Harn’ashall, hanging in space.
Though the three appeared – and were created – identical, save for the accident of the hue of their living marble bodies being different, the mightiest of them turned to her siblings and asked, “Are we doing this? If we are, we have to do it now.”
Her sister nodded once.
Her brother, though his features immobile, she could read him enough to show that he was struggling with a decision.
“Myrrl?” she said kindly, but insistently.
Finally, her brother nodded then turned away.
“House?” the mightiest of the Androforms said to the air.
The Divine Julianos’ mysterious, sentient house indicated that it was ready.
“Very well. House, Begin.”
---------------------------------------------------------------------
The Harn’ashall decided that his time in the joyous glare of the sun was ending and repositioned himself to make the journey back to Nirn.
He was suddenly aware of an expanding of his consciousness. In most beings this could have been caused by several things, in the Harn’ashall however, this could only mean one thing.
My lady. He thought.
“Which?” came the reply.
The Harn’ashall paused, somewhat confused by this. My lady, Arrai? He internalised.
“Nevermind. Harn’ashall-Ka, we need your help.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
That was absolutely bloody fantastic, McBadgere; easily the best part you've posted for this story so far and you outstripped the other chapters with this one by miles (not to say that the rest of this has been bad, but if they were Dan Abnett, this was Isaac Asimov, for sake of comparison and scale). Loved the descriptions of Magnus' place in the wider universe/multiverse, and the idea of the Harn'ashall feeding off solar flares was absolutely excellent.
So goddamn good, I love it!
So goddamn good, I love it!
This was astonishing, McBadgere! Each new set of Tales has given me that new-book delight, but this part is like discovering a whole new library. I loved it so much, I’m awed into near wordlessness. Just amazing!
Also, your Nol and Trellanwr intro was perfect. It kept me from sailing away in the immense scale of this part. I love it!
Also, your Nol and Trellanwr intro was perfect. It kept me from sailing away in the immense scale of this part. I love it!
Out of this world! Gods and Androforms as they go about their celestial business.
’The alabaster pseudo-feathers of the Harn’ashall’s mighty wings, rippled with a frenzy of barely controlled kinetic potential as they held against the unceasing wind.’
This was a wonderfully evocative sentence.
’The alabaster pseudo-feathers of the Harn’ashall’s mighty wings, rippled with a frenzy of barely controlled kinetic potential as they held against the unceasing wind.’
This was a wonderfully evocative sentence.
I was glad to see Trellanwr in the intro, and intrigued to find out what Nol knows !!!
Can't help myself, have to do it:
“House?” the mightiest of the Androforms said to the air.
Even the Androforms watch House!
ROFL !!! Great Write!
Can't help myself, have to do it:
QUOTE
“House?” the mightiest of the Androforms said to the air.
Even the Androforms watch House!
ROFL !!! Great Write!
Songs that Helped the Imagining of This story...
Hey there!!... ...
Part 2 newness alert!!!...
Thank yous first...
Mustard - Wow...Umm...Thank you so much...To be have Dan Abnett mentioned in any regard to my story is such an honour... ...That you liked it so much is also, an honour...I thank you very much...
Grits - Always, always thank you from the bottom of my heart...Your encouragement has saved the day on more than one occasion... ...Thank you so much...Hope part 2 lives up to the first bit...
Acadian - Many many thanks...I appreciate you still spending your time trawling through that which I keep flinging at the site... ...There may be a rhyme there...Ne'ermind...Many thanks m'friend... ...
mALX!! - Thank you, as ever...For still carrying on with this... ...Never seen one episode of House...As much as I love Hugh Laurie, never once...And that intro bit with Nol and Trellanwr was taken from the end of the previous bit post, where Trellanwr is trying to tell Nol about Cestra's death...And somehow, he already knew...
Aaaand here's how he found out about it...
Previously on KOTN...Read part 1 (again )...Otherwise...Spoilers sweetie!...
Tales of The Aetherium – Empire.
The Ferryman of Souls (Part 2)
3E 594 N.R.
A room appeared.
Such a small sentence belying the enormity of what had to pass for the words to be have been uttered in the first place.
The violent energies involved in the creation of said room, energies dragged from the dying echoes of long dead, nearby – for want of a better word – universes, causing them to implode; not to say anything about the sheer magnitude of the lies told to – apparently – immutable laws up and down the cosmic scales, simply to hide its fact from all and everything; the misdirection game played with probability, logic, true reality, Aetheric reality.
All to put these particular souls in this particular room at this one moment where it would be possible.
All for one slim chance at moving this one player in the game, so that it reaches the board at the right time.
--------------------------------------------------------------
“Wake up sleepyhead,” Miitr Farrada shook a battered Nol Areldur, “They’re not playing cosmic slight-of-hand with the Architects of Fate just so you can sleep through it.”
“Ow. Not my fault. Ces hit me with her damned paralyse spell.” Nol opened one eye; the other he was unable to, it being puffed up and bruised. The Altmer took in what he could see of the room from where he sat. It looked almost exactly like the ante-room in the island getaway that Farrada once owned.
That Farrada had once owned before he’d died.
Nol frowned and looked at the man sat next to him, “Wait. Miitr?” he put a hand on the man’s shoulder, “Miitr?..But you’re...”
Farrada raised an eyebrow and smirked as he said, “Yeah, but looking good with it though.”
Nol had to admit that Farrada was looking as he had in the prime of his life, “Okay. So this is some psychological reaction to the spell and I’ll wake up in a minute.”
Farrada laughed once and smiled, “Good lad. Now get up, someone has a message for you.”
The Once-Miitr stood and extended an arm to help Nol up.
As he was pulled to his feet Nol shouted and, once upright, he held his back. “What in the name of all that is Holy is going on?”
“Would it be fair to say that all you’ve been through this week or so could have taken its toll on the health of your soul?”
Nol pursed his lips as his knee flared with pain. He answered with a nod.
Farrada gestured up and down Nol’s body, “Well, now you can see how much of a toll.”
Struggling to keep up with the revelations, Nol swore then said, “This is ridiculous. I’m dreaming, nothing more.”
“NOL ARELDUR. IT WOULD GO BETTER FOR YOU IF YOU WOULD ACCEPT, FOR THE TIME BEING, THAT YOU ARE NOT DREAMING.”
Nol held his head as the speech of thousands of people speaking at once thundered into it, seeming to come from all around him at once; the echoes of single voices coming from different places for a short time after.
The Altmer looked around the room, and saw, stood behind the sofa in which he’d first opened his eyes was a female figure looking out through a window. Having stared longingly at that very form for so many years, he sighed and walked with a limp over to her.
“Ces, I’m not understanding anything at all. What is all this?”
“All of those years as people spent debating the truth of souls as entities within a body and now, only now do I find out it was all true.”
“Ces?”
A sigh escaped the soul-form of Cestra Areldur, “We’ve been given to know certain things,” Cestra gestured towards Farrada, “it comes with the condition I’m afraid.” She smiled a weak smile.
“Condition?”
The Once-Cestra tilted her head and raised her eyebrows.
“Oh no. Nonono.” Nol shook his head and started panting. The Almost-Fleet Admiral’s knees gave way, but before he could hit the floor, the Once-Miitr caught him, lifted Nol back up and pinned him to the side of the window with one hand. “How?”
Cestra turned to look out of the window again. “I fought Tcheet. I lost.”
There was a pause; then she continued, “This room should not exist. It is being held together by something that should, by all rights, have nothing to do with anything like this. And I find myself angry at the Universe that even in the realm of the infinite, corruption of the innocent happens.”
The soul once known as Cestra Areldur looked Nol in the eye, “When we die, the Harn’ashall come to you and offer you three choices – come, wait or stay. Pass over to Aetherius; wait for some very specific one or for some specific event, at which point the Harn’ashall will come and throw you into Aetherius...Or stay...You really don’t want to stay Nol.” Cestra shook her head. “You’d think it would be brilliant to stay and walk through walls, watching people.” The former Arch-Mage waggled her eyebrows, then a dark look crossed over her face, “Doesn’t work like that. You wind up wandering Nirn for countless years, until you forget who you are and your last conscious thought will be ‘Hide in the dark places’.”
Nol frowned and a confused look came to his face.
“Ghosts dumbass.” Said Farrada, “Remember all those stories that’d come back from the Marines about the ghosts or wraiths or worse in the ruins we ran into? They were people once. King or peasant; Mage, knight or stable-boy; it doesn’t matter. You forget who you are eventually; and then it doesn’t matter. Or didn’t you ever think that far about it?”
“People who forgot who they were, Nol.”
“So what, you’re both waiting for...What? or Who?”
Cestra shook her head, Farrada said, “I was quite happy waiting thank you, before I was dragged here and given over to solidity again and walking and...Hunger actually...It’s been some time since I’ve eaten anything. But no, seems someone out there quite thinks you’re important and so,” Farrada caught Cestra’s eye, “we are back to make sure you get out of this in one piece.”
“So what do these things, whatever you said - Harn’ashall was it? - have to do with anything?” Nol asked.
“Everything.” Was the reply.
Cestra put her left hand to the window and Nol jumped back a little as he realised a gigantic finger was touching the outside. He stepped forward and tried to see around the finger, but the only thing he could see in the swirling multicoloured outside was the suggestion of immense wings.
Suddenly, so suddenly that even the former Cestra jumped, the multitudinous voices chorused, “TIME!”
She sighed and put her hand to where Nol’s heart would be, were he, in this place, alive.
Farrada spoke first, “Nol, very soon, you will be given a great task. You must see it through. Many great things on and beyond Nirn are dependent on your seeing it through, no matter what.”
“But-”
“Nol. You have to trust us.” Said Cestra.
“But I can’t trust you.”
“What?” the Once-Cestra and Once-Farrada looked at each other.
“You’re not the people that I trusted are you? You’re the reflections of them.”
“Nol.” The Once-Cestra looked hurt and made a disgusted noise. “Bet you’d have never questioned once if they’d sent Koyree would you?”
There was a pause as Nol looked at Cestra with his one open eye.
“KOYREE ARELDUR COULD NOT BE BROUGHT.”
“Of course not,” said Nol, as he relaxed the wince brought on by the speech.
“KOYREE ARELDUR IS CURRENTLY HEADING SOUTH ON THE DASARTIC SEA, SOUTH OF DUSK.”
“She’s alive?!”
“CURRENTLY, YES.”
Nol suddenly felt his legs stronger and stood up straighter. He knocked Farrada’s arm down.
“Suppose I do believe you. Why me?”
“Because the Architects of Fate have attached a great many threads in their web to you.” Said Farrada. “So many are now bound to your direction. And the preferred future outcome depends on you having accomplished the task ahead of you.”
“Preferred future outcome?!” Nol mocked, “Who’s preferred outcome. And what happens if I don’t? And, Miitr, that sentence pretty much proves you’re not my Miitr.”
“THE WORLD AS YOU KNOW IT WILL HAVE NO FUTURE IF YOU DO NOT SUCCEED.”
“Dear Gods.” Nol shook his head then tipped it back to lean it on the wall, “This is too much. In one week, I’ve lost my daughter, my friends, my career, my freedom and now – apparently – the woman I have loved, at times, more than life itself. And yet, somehow, even after all that, I’m supposed to have the strength to save the world? I cannot do this.”
“The others will save the world, all you need to do is your part.” Said the Once-Miitr. “And maybe I’m not the Miitr that once loved you as a son, I’m now so much more,” he raised an eyebrow, “or less.”
“Others?” Nol said with a catch in his voice at Miitr’s words.
“That doesn’t matter; just do what you have to do Nol.” Said Cestra, sharply. “You are about to be given a rare and dangerous form of Divine Magic, dating back to the Era of Awakening, when the Divines first put – for whatever reasons – souls into beings. The Soulhale is like a shield, it will keep you from...” the soul of Cestra paused and gestured at Nol’s damaged appearance, “This.”
“Dangerous how, exactly?”
Cestra opened her mouth to speak when the celestial voices cried “TIME!” again.
Cestra looked hunted for a moment turned her head slightly, knitted her eyebrows in apology and her hand was bathed in pure, white light.
Nol had one brief moment of seeing that the light was travelling along her arms, from where the Once-Cestra had her hand on the window, at the point where the huge finger touched the other side; then he started to burn, and there was nothing but heat and light.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
No longer the shade of the man, Nol Areldur stood strong before the great-souls, “What are you waiting for, Miitr?” for now, he believed.
“The unravelling of Ofwysyn Tcheet’s Empire. It has already begun. It makes me laugh.” The Once-Miitr Farrada said.
“Already begun?”
“Yes. The Koyree lie was just one of many. He is surrounded by lies that are slowly bleeding the life out of the Thalmor; it really is a beautiful thing to behold.”
Nol Areldur shook hands for the last time with the man he once counted as friend, mentor, Commander and, in his heart at least, father.
Then, Nol Areldur beheld the woman he had loved for so long, “Are you waiting for...Anyone?”
Cestra looked down, “I had forgotten who I was years ago Nol. And then you come along again...No, the Harn’ashall will be taking me over. I was Arch-Mage of the University of The Isles, a Commander of the Order of The Lamp. I would be failing in my duty if I did not go and see what lies beyond. I may not be able to come back, but I can damned well try to be the first to manage it properly.” She smirked, “And if it’s not me, then we can be damned sure it’ll be Koyree.” Then she laughed and Nol felt warmth where his heart would be.
“I love you Cestra.”
“I love you too Nol, I always have.”
“TIME!”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
As the Fleet Admiral’s soul faded from the room, Miitr Farrada quickly stood in front of Nol and said, “Trust the Bosmer, he’s not all he seems.”
A frown was all the indication that the former Fleet Admiral had heard.
And then the room was gone.
The Once-Miitr Farrada saw the brief suggestion of a hand on Cestra Areldur’s shoulder, then white light and she was gone.
The once Oversaar of the Altmer Navy found himself on the docks in Alinor.
The shade walked up to Nol’s flagship, the recently arrived The Pride of Alinor. Walking through the crowd of crew, some being escorted off the ship in chains, some carried off on trolleys.
He ran a hand along the ship’s panelling as he went along the corridors, not that he could feel anything anymore; the ship, however, seemed to appreciate the gesture.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Finding himself in the depths of the engine room, the Once-Miitr stood in the heart of the ship watching a figure standing with his hand on the door-frame, looking as if he was trying to gauge how much time he had.
Calling on the spirit of the ship to help, Farrada fought to make himself visible to the man.
The figure jumped as he saw, but then walked closer with a disbelieving look on his face, “Laddie?” he said.
Miitr put his finger to his lips in the gesture of “Ssshh.” then pointed to a small component on the engines.
“Ha! Even dead yer a wiley ba$tard. Good lad.”
The Miitr-shade vanished from view.
The former Oversaar watched as the man pulled something from the engine and the sounds of power stopped.
Then there was shouting, and a restraining, and a dragging away.
The Once-Miitr put his hand to the heart of the ship and said, “Sleep little lady. I won’t let anyone hurt you. You’ll be back soon enough.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Relatively speaking, nearby, the Androform stood and looked at her sister Neerlah, and said, “Well, it’s done.”
“This had better work Arrai,” said Myrrl from somewhere behind her. “I would so hate to think you were wrong.” She heard him leave, the veiled threat noted.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Did I perform your wishes to your satisfaction my lady Arrai? Harn’ashall-Ka thought.
“Very much so, my friend, very much so.”
May I ask one thing, my lady?
“Of course.”
May I avail myself of Magnus’ roar once more? I am feeling...A little weak.
“Take some time Harn’ashall-Ka, you have more than earned it.”
My thanks, my lady.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Once more beyond the bow-shock, the Harn’ashall hung in space and spread his mighty wings to catch Magnus’ rage.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Areldur!!...Fleet Admiral!!”
“Maircaln?..Ow...Stop slapping me, I’m awake!”
“I’m sorry, there’s been an incident. You were paralyzed.”
“Yes, I noticed that.”
“I will be back to check on you, but you’d best take this. It’s your regular medicine, you’re due it.”
“Oh no, I won’t be needing that anymore. Things just got a little...clearer.”
“That’s as maybe, but there’s still your healing to...What the hells?”
“Problem?”
“What the f-”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hey there!!...
...Part 2 newness alert!!!...
Thank yous first...
Mustard - Wow...Umm...Thank you so much...To be have Dan Abnett mentioned in any regard to my story is such an honour...
...That you liked it so much is also, an honour...I thank you very much...Grits - Always, always thank you from the bottom of my heart...Your encouragement has saved the day on more than one occasion...
...Thank you so much...Hope part 2 lives up to the first bit...Acadian - Many many thanks...I appreciate you still spending your time trawling through that which I keep flinging at the site...
...There may be a rhyme there...Ne'ermind...Many thanks m'friend... ...mALX!! - Thank you, as ever...For still carrying on with this...
...Never seen one episode of House...As much as I love Hugh Laurie, never once...And that intro bit with Nol and Trellanwr was taken from the end of the previous bit post, where Trellanwr is trying to tell Nol about Cestra's death...And somehow, he already knew...Aaaand here's how he found out about it...
Previously on KOTN...Read part 1 (again
)...Otherwise...Spoilers sweetie!...Tales of The Aetherium – Empire.
The Ferryman of Souls (Part 2)
3E 594 N.R.
A room appeared.
Such a small sentence belying the enormity of what had to pass for the words to be have been uttered in the first place.
The violent energies involved in the creation of said room, energies dragged from the dying echoes of long dead, nearby – for want of a better word – universes, causing them to implode; not to say anything about the sheer magnitude of the lies told to – apparently – immutable laws up and down the cosmic scales, simply to hide its fact from all and everything; the misdirection game played with probability, logic, true reality, Aetheric reality.
All to put these particular souls in this particular room at this one moment where it would be possible.
All for one slim chance at moving this one player in the game, so that it reaches the board at the right time.
--------------------------------------------------------------
“Wake up sleepyhead,” Miitr Farrada shook a battered Nol Areldur, “They’re not playing cosmic slight-of-hand with the Architects of Fate just so you can sleep through it.”
“Ow. Not my fault. Ces hit me with her damned paralyse spell.” Nol opened one eye; the other he was unable to, it being puffed up and bruised. The Altmer took in what he could see of the room from where he sat. It looked almost exactly like the ante-room in the island getaway that Farrada once owned.
That Farrada had once owned before he’d died.
Nol frowned and looked at the man sat next to him, “Wait. Miitr?” he put a hand on the man’s shoulder, “Miitr?..But you’re...”
Farrada raised an eyebrow and smirked as he said, “Yeah, but looking good with it though.”
Nol had to admit that Farrada was looking as he had in the prime of his life, “Okay. So this is some psychological reaction to the spell and I’ll wake up in a minute.”
Farrada laughed once and smiled, “Good lad. Now get up, someone has a message for you.”
The Once-Miitr stood and extended an arm to help Nol up.
As he was pulled to his feet Nol shouted and, once upright, he held his back. “What in the name of all that is Holy is going on?”
“Would it be fair to say that all you’ve been through this week or so could have taken its toll on the health of your soul?”
Nol pursed his lips as his knee flared with pain. He answered with a nod.
Farrada gestured up and down Nol’s body, “Well, now you can see how much of a toll.”
Struggling to keep up with the revelations, Nol swore then said, “This is ridiculous. I’m dreaming, nothing more.”
“NOL ARELDUR. IT WOULD GO BETTER FOR YOU IF YOU WOULD ACCEPT, FOR THE TIME BEING, THAT YOU ARE NOT DREAMING.”
Nol held his head as the speech of thousands of people speaking at once thundered into it, seeming to come from all around him at once; the echoes of single voices coming from different places for a short time after.
The Altmer looked around the room, and saw, stood behind the sofa in which he’d first opened his eyes was a female figure looking out through a window. Having stared longingly at that very form for so many years, he sighed and walked with a limp over to her.
“Ces, I’m not understanding anything at all. What is all this?”
“All of those years as people spent debating the truth of souls as entities within a body and now, only now do I find out it was all true.”
“Ces?”
A sigh escaped the soul-form of Cestra Areldur, “We’ve been given to know certain things,” Cestra gestured towards Farrada, “it comes with the condition I’m afraid.” She smiled a weak smile.
“Condition?”
The Once-Cestra tilted her head and raised her eyebrows.
“Oh no. Nonono.” Nol shook his head and started panting. The Almost-Fleet Admiral’s knees gave way, but before he could hit the floor, the Once-Miitr caught him, lifted Nol back up and pinned him to the side of the window with one hand. “How?”
Cestra turned to look out of the window again. “I fought Tcheet. I lost.”
There was a pause; then she continued, “This room should not exist. It is being held together by something that should, by all rights, have nothing to do with anything like this. And I find myself angry at the Universe that even in the realm of the infinite, corruption of the innocent happens.”
The soul once known as Cestra Areldur looked Nol in the eye, “When we die, the Harn’ashall come to you and offer you three choices – come, wait or stay. Pass over to Aetherius; wait for some very specific one or for some specific event, at which point the Harn’ashall will come and throw you into Aetherius...Or stay...You really don’t want to stay Nol.” Cestra shook her head. “You’d think it would be brilliant to stay and walk through walls, watching people.” The former Arch-Mage waggled her eyebrows, then a dark look crossed over her face, “Doesn’t work like that. You wind up wandering Nirn for countless years, until you forget who you are and your last conscious thought will be ‘Hide in the dark places’.”
Nol frowned and a confused look came to his face.
“Ghosts dumbass.” Said Farrada, “Remember all those stories that’d come back from the Marines about the ghosts or wraiths or worse in the ruins we ran into? They were people once. King or peasant; Mage, knight or stable-boy; it doesn’t matter. You forget who you are eventually; and then it doesn’t matter. Or didn’t you ever think that far about it?”
“People who forgot who they were, Nol.”
“So what, you’re both waiting for...What? or Who?”
Cestra shook her head, Farrada said, “I was quite happy waiting thank you, before I was dragged here and given over to solidity again and walking and...Hunger actually...It’s been some time since I’ve eaten anything. But no, seems someone out there quite thinks you’re important and so,” Farrada caught Cestra’s eye, “we are back to make sure you get out of this in one piece.”
“So what do these things, whatever you said - Harn’ashall was it? - have to do with anything?” Nol asked.
“Everything.” Was the reply.
Cestra put her left hand to the window and Nol jumped back a little as he realised a gigantic finger was touching the outside. He stepped forward and tried to see around the finger, but the only thing he could see in the swirling multicoloured outside was the suggestion of immense wings.
Suddenly, so suddenly that even the former Cestra jumped, the multitudinous voices chorused, “TIME!”
She sighed and put her hand to where Nol’s heart would be, were he, in this place, alive.
Farrada spoke first, “Nol, very soon, you will be given a great task. You must see it through. Many great things on and beyond Nirn are dependent on your seeing it through, no matter what.”
“But-”
“Nol. You have to trust us.” Said Cestra.
“But I can’t trust you.”
“What?” the Once-Cestra and Once-Farrada looked at each other.
“You’re not the people that I trusted are you? You’re the reflections of them.”
“Nol.” The Once-Cestra looked hurt and made a disgusted noise. “Bet you’d have never questioned once if they’d sent Koyree would you?”
There was a pause as Nol looked at Cestra with his one open eye.
“KOYREE ARELDUR COULD NOT BE BROUGHT.”
“Of course not,” said Nol, as he relaxed the wince brought on by the speech.
“KOYREE ARELDUR IS CURRENTLY HEADING SOUTH ON THE DASARTIC SEA, SOUTH OF DUSK.”
“She’s alive?!”
“CURRENTLY, YES.”
Nol suddenly felt his legs stronger and stood up straighter. He knocked Farrada’s arm down.
“Suppose I do believe you. Why me?”
“Because the Architects of Fate have attached a great many threads in their web to you.” Said Farrada. “So many are now bound to your direction. And the preferred future outcome depends on you having accomplished the task ahead of you.”
“Preferred future outcome?!” Nol mocked, “Who’s preferred outcome. And what happens if I don’t? And, Miitr, that sentence pretty much proves you’re not my Miitr.”
“THE WORLD AS YOU KNOW IT WILL HAVE NO FUTURE IF YOU DO NOT SUCCEED.”
“Dear Gods.” Nol shook his head then tipped it back to lean it on the wall, “This is too much. In one week, I’ve lost my daughter, my friends, my career, my freedom and now – apparently – the woman I have loved, at times, more than life itself. And yet, somehow, even after all that, I’m supposed to have the strength to save the world? I cannot do this.”
“The others will save the world, all you need to do is your part.” Said the Once-Miitr. “And maybe I’m not the Miitr that once loved you as a son, I’m now so much more,” he raised an eyebrow, “or less.”
“Others?” Nol said with a catch in his voice at Miitr’s words.
“That doesn’t matter; just do what you have to do Nol.” Said Cestra, sharply. “You are about to be given a rare and dangerous form of Divine Magic, dating back to the Era of Awakening, when the Divines first put – for whatever reasons – souls into beings. The Soulhale is like a shield, it will keep you from...” the soul of Cestra paused and gestured at Nol’s damaged appearance, “This.”
“Dangerous how, exactly?”
Cestra opened her mouth to speak when the celestial voices cried “TIME!” again.
Cestra looked hunted for a moment turned her head slightly, knitted her eyebrows in apology and her hand was bathed in pure, white light.
Nol had one brief moment of seeing that the light was travelling along her arms, from where the Once-Cestra had her hand on the window, at the point where the huge finger touched the other side; then he started to burn, and there was nothing but heat and light.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
No longer the shade of the man, Nol Areldur stood strong before the great-souls, “What are you waiting for, Miitr?” for now, he believed.
“The unravelling of Ofwysyn Tcheet’s Empire. It has already begun. It makes me laugh.” The Once-Miitr Farrada said.
“Already begun?”
“Yes. The Koyree lie was just one of many. He is surrounded by lies that are slowly bleeding the life out of the Thalmor; it really is a beautiful thing to behold.”
Nol Areldur shook hands for the last time with the man he once counted as friend, mentor, Commander and, in his heart at least, father.
Then, Nol Areldur beheld the woman he had loved for so long, “Are you waiting for...Anyone?”
Cestra looked down, “I had forgotten who I was years ago Nol. And then you come along again...No, the Harn’ashall will be taking me over. I was Arch-Mage of the University of The Isles, a Commander of the Order of The Lamp. I would be failing in my duty if I did not go and see what lies beyond. I may not be able to come back, but I can damned well try to be the first to manage it properly.” She smirked, “And if it’s not me, then we can be damned sure it’ll be Koyree.” Then she laughed and Nol felt warmth where his heart would be.
“I love you Cestra.”
“I love you too Nol, I always have.”
“TIME!”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
As the Fleet Admiral’s soul faded from the room, Miitr Farrada quickly stood in front of Nol and said, “Trust the Bosmer, he’s not all he seems.”
A frown was all the indication that the former Fleet Admiral had heard.
And then the room was gone.
The Once-Miitr Farrada saw the brief suggestion of a hand on Cestra Areldur’s shoulder, then white light and she was gone.
The once Oversaar of the Altmer Navy found himself on the docks in Alinor.
The shade walked up to Nol’s flagship, the recently arrived The Pride of Alinor. Walking through the crowd of crew, some being escorted off the ship in chains, some carried off on trolleys.
He ran a hand along the ship’s panelling as he went along the corridors, not that he could feel anything anymore; the ship, however, seemed to appreciate the gesture.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Finding himself in the depths of the engine room, the Once-Miitr stood in the heart of the ship watching a figure standing with his hand on the door-frame, looking as if he was trying to gauge how much time he had.
Calling on the spirit of the ship to help, Farrada fought to make himself visible to the man.
The figure jumped as he saw, but then walked closer with a disbelieving look on his face, “Laddie?” he said.
Miitr put his finger to his lips in the gesture of “Ssshh.” then pointed to a small component on the engines.
“Ha! Even dead yer a wiley ba$tard. Good lad.”
The Miitr-shade vanished from view.
The former Oversaar watched as the man pulled something from the engine and the sounds of power stopped.
Then there was shouting, and a restraining, and a dragging away.
The Once-Miitr put his hand to the heart of the ship and said, “Sleep little lady. I won’t let anyone hurt you. You’ll be back soon enough.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Relatively speaking, nearby, the Androform stood and looked at her sister Neerlah, and said, “Well, it’s done.”
“This had better work Arrai,” said Myrrl from somewhere behind her. “I would so hate to think you were wrong.” She heard him leave, the veiled threat noted.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Did I perform your wishes to your satisfaction my lady Arrai? Harn’ashall-Ka thought.
“Very much so, my friend, very much so.”
May I ask one thing, my lady?
“Of course.”
May I avail myself of Magnus’ roar once more? I am feeling...A little weak.
“Take some time Harn’ashall-Ka, you have more than earned it.”
My thanks, my lady.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Once more beyond the bow-shock, the Harn’ashall hung in space and spread his mighty wings to catch Magnus’ rage.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Areldur!!...Fleet Admiral!!”
“Maircaln?..Ow...Stop slapping me, I’m awake!”
“I’m sorry, there’s been an incident. You were paralyzed.”
“Yes, I noticed that.”
“I will be back to check on you, but you’d best take this. It’s your regular medicine, you’re due it.”
“Oh no, I won’t be needing that anymore. Things just got a little...clearer.”
“That’s as maybe, but there’s still your healing to...What the hells?”
“Problem?”
“What the f-”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*
The opening section of this chapter was fantastic, and a great set up for what's to come!
This was visionary, loved the concept!:
Cestra turned to look out of the window again. “I fought Tcheet. I lost.”
There was a pause; then she continued, “This room should not exist. It is being held together by something that should, by all rights, have nothing to do with anything like this. And I find myself angry at the Universe that even in the realm of the infinite, corruption of the innocent happens.”
Trust the Bosmer, he’s not all he seems.”
WOO HOO !!!! Trellanwr! Now we'll find out what that beginning passage meant last chapter!
I have to say, this is up with my favorite chapters! Awesome Write!
*
The opening section of this chapter was fantastic, and a great set up for what's to come!
This was visionary, loved the concept!:
QUOTE
Cestra turned to look out of the window again. “I fought Tcheet. I lost.”
There was a pause; then she continued, “This room should not exist. It is being held together by something that should, by all rights, have nothing to do with anything like this. And I find myself angry at the Universe that even in the realm of the infinite, corruption of the innocent happens.”
QUOTE
Trust the Bosmer, he’s not all he seems.”
WOO HOO !!!! Trellanwr! Now we'll find out what that beginning passage meant last chapter!
I have to say, this is up with my favorite chapters! Awesome Write!
*
Yay! Nol learns that Koyree is still alive! I’m sure that makes for one happy, albeit confused, Fleet Admiral.
So there's a meeting with a ghost in room that dfies the laws of physics. That's certainly a scene you don't read every day, I'll give it that.
And that scene certainly opens up several interesting possibilities for the story. Nol learns that Koyree is still alive and that Trellanwyr might be a possible ally. And if those two put together their resources, then there's going to troublesome days ahead for the Thalmor. Troublesome days indeed...
And that scene certainly opens up several interesting possibilities for the story. Nol learns that Koyree is still alive and that Trellanwyr might be a possible ally. And if those two put together their resources, then there's going to troublesome days ahead for the Thalmor. Troublesome days indeed...
Koyree is alive, but Cestra is dead. That was a lot for Nol to take in, but now he’ll be ready to face what’s coming. And now we know what Nol already knew when Trellanwr was apologizing, if I have my times straight.
It’s great to see parts filling in other parts. This whole meeting that shouldn't be possible was inspired!
I love how you ended with Maircaln’s exclamation! Maybe Nol’s knees don’t hurt so much anymore, at least for now. 
It’s great to see parts filling in other parts. This whole meeting that shouldn't be possible was inspired!
I love how you ended with Maircaln’s exclamation!
Maybe Nol’s knees don’t hurt so much anymore, at least for now.
Well, that explains alot. Add one more to the list of people who love the stellar symbolism and the ferryman.
Oh, and getting back to our lovely semi-incorporeal shopkeep. I thought the toy was a remote control at first.
Oh, and getting back to our lovely semi-incorporeal shopkeep. I thought the toy was a remote control at first.
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