The man with green eyes

“Oh him. Of course, you wouldn't know him, having just come to Skyrim. I'm so used to seeing him that I couldn't ever imagine someone not having met him. The Altmer calls himself Sorcalin, he's been around as long as anyone can remember. My father introduced him to me. I doubt there's anyone of importance in Skyrim whom he haven't met, except you of course. Perfect gentleman, and he owns a house out in the Rift. Though now that I think about it, I have never found out how he earned all of that money, or where he came from,”
- Jarl Balgruuf, 4E 201 21st Last Seed



Author's note:
So this is the story of Sorcalin, the Altmer mystery. Excerpts from his story anyway. I've had such an annoying writer's block lately concerning my other stories, so I've decided to publish some of the stuff that I actually have managed to write. Though I'm not sure if you'll like Sorcalin as much as I do, I certainly hope so.

So, in this first post I'll have an Index of what happens in my version of the elder scrolls universe, with links to the posts that are parts from Sorcalin's life. I won't be posting them in any kind of order, since not even I know exactly how old the guy is, and because this is a spur of the moment kind of thing. It's just lots of stuff that takes place in the Elder Scrolls universe and has one common thing in them, Sorcalin. I'll also write the dates that I upload and update the different parts, and I'm hoping that might help you to keep track of the parts better.

So well, I hope you like it. Ekali's story is still my priority, but the thing is that when I get an idea it's kind of hard to not write about it. Which means that I've currently got five stories in the Elder Scrolls universe that I'm working on. And that is pretty annoying, but there isn't much I can do about it. So, now there's the Index, and then there's the first part.



Index:

Original Characters - Post #9

New Currency: Thalms - Post #29

3E

253, 12th Sun's Dawn Part 1 - Elyzara Moorhart returns to life - Post #40 - 19/12-2013

253, 12th Sun's Dawn Part 2 - Elyzara speaks to Periene and Periene speaks to Morgan - Post #46 - 19/4-2015

377 – Prince Geldall Septim is born.

378 – Prince Enman Septim is born.

380 – Prince Ebel Septim is born. A relatively new member of the Mages Guild defeats Mannimarco and is appointed arch-mage.

380, 11th Sun's Dawn – A young mage meets the Count of Skingrad and Sorcalin for the first time when they save her life - Post #17 - 21/8-2012

383, 3rd Hearthfire - Sorcalin is hired by the emperor - Post #31 - 25/12-2012

384, 14th Rain's Hand - Sorcalin speaks to Tar-Meena - Post #7 - 29/6-2012

384, 3rd Sun's Height – Sorcalin speaks with Adrasteia for the first time - Post #20 - 26/8-2012

389 - Jagar Tharn takes over

389, 29th Hearthfire – Sorcalin escapes with the emperor's heirs from the Imperial City - Post #14 - 14/8-2012

390, 12th Sun's Dawn – Adrasteia, Sorcalin's wife, is killed by Jagar Tharn - Post #10 - 10/8-2012

390, 13th Sun’s Dawn - Sorcalin buries Adrasteia - Post #38 - 15/10-2013

432 – Felisa Serhas is arrested and meets Valen Dreth

433 – Felisa Serhas meets Gasheera and escapes from prison. She later kills the love of her life, Valen Dreth, and conspires with Sa'Quira to “make a hero” of Gasheera.

433, 10th Second seed – Roland Jenseric witness a vampire feeding on his beloved - Post #2 - 25/6-2012

434 – The Oblivion crisis is ended, the 3rd era ends. S'iniith and He-Twists-His-Tail meet and travel to the Imperial city together.

4E

1 – 3 The Mages guild breaks apart, forming the College of Whispers and the Synod.

199, 24th Frostfall – Sorcalin meets an old acquaintance - Post #34 - 4/5-2013

201, 10th Last Seed – Sorcalin investigate rumors - Index post - 19/6-2012

201, 21st Last Seed – Sorcalin first meets Ekali

201, 23nd Last Seed – Dar'Ilthi confronts Sorcalin - Post #24 - 31/8-2012

202, Unknown – Sorcalin relaxes together with Ekali - Post #24 - 31/8-2012


Sources:
http://www.imperial-library.info/content/third-era
http://www.imperial-library.info/content/calendar-tamriel
http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Jagar_Tharn


4E 201, 10th Last Seed

Maven Black-Briar had just dipped the quill in ink and was about to start writing when she could see, in her peripheral, that her personal guard had just frozen. The plant by the window no longer swayed, and the dust motes hung like from a spider-web in the air. Looking up, she was greeted by the sight of an Altmer in the leather armor usually worn by the Thieves guild. So she sighed, and moved the quill so that ink wouldn't drip on the papers in front of her.

“Why does every rumor-mongering scoundrel in the city speak of Saerdur's heading on an expedition into the mountains, when I'm certain that the Jarl put him in house-arrest?” he asked her as he walked up to one of the book-shelves and looked at the titles.

“And why would I know that?” she responded, watching him closely as he made his way around the room. The high elf turned to her with a smile.

“Why? You know everything that goes on in Riften, whether it's illegal or not.” Putting his hands on her desk, he leaned in close until their foreheads were a mere inch apart. Maven, though flustered, didn't flinch.

“A favor for a friend, you'll have to ask Dar'Ilthi if you want to know more. I didn't ask for the specifics,” she said, staring into his eyes with a grim expression.

“Maybe I'll do just that,” he said with another smile and stood up straight, making sure he hadn't dropped anything.

“It's a handy trick that, halting time,” she said in a bored manner, and he looked back at her.

“Why yes, I suppose it is.” He cast a glance at the guard. “Handy when you don't want anyone to know of your meeting.”

“Yes. Which is why you won't use it again.” She stared at him. He flashed a charming smile her way, and then he was gone, time back to normal.

The guard looked at Maven when she didn't write anything, and noticed the small puddle of ink that had collected on the desk. His brow furrowed in concern at this, as he was quite certain that puddle had not been there moments earlier. Then she turned her narrowed eyes at him, and he quickly resumed his former position.

:-:-:-:

Dar'Ilthi, being the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, though having her chambers further into the sanctuary than any other guild-member, never trusted completely in her safety. So it was that when she felt the change in the atmosphere of her room, she did not become startled, but merely calculated the strength with which she'd have to throw the book she was holding. She was at that moment lying on her bed, in the process of reading a rather large tome. She could feel the bump of the ebony dagger underneath her pillow, and she was very much aware of who had just entered her private chambers, uninvited.

Throwing the book at him with her left hand, she simultaneously grabbed the dagger in her right a mere moment before she flew at him. While in the air she heard the magical discharge that meant his ward had been disabled for the moment and then she was on his chest on the floor, dagger up against his neck.

“Guildmaster,” Dar'Ilthi snarled after a minutes silence, before she stepped of him and pulled the high elf to his feet.

“Listener,” he responded and patted his clothing as if to get the dust of them.

“No need to do that here. We keep our floors clean, unlike some.” She was staring at him when he looked up, taking a moment to decide whether or not he should ignore the remark.

“One day, you're going to get me killed with those tricks of yours. I don't think Maven would like that very much.” His voice was as carefree as ever when he next spoke.

“On the contrary, I think she'd cheer me on.” Dar'Ilthis' comment brought a chuckle to the Altmer's lips. She smiled slightly herself, before her eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms. “What do you want?”

“Information. Why have Maven spread rumors that Saerdur Lawgiver is on a expedition to the Jerall Mountains, when he's clearly in house-arrest?” the man asked and leaned against the wall leisurely.

“Why do you care?” the Listener asked with a sigh, walking so that she could sit on her desk.

“I'm simply curious,” he answered.

“You're the one person I'm sure never is 'simply curious'.” Dar'Ilthi stared at him, taking her hair in her hands and braiding it over again.

“Nevertheless, I want to know,” he said with a smile that exposed his fangs. Merely glancing at them, Dar'Ilthi placed the dagger down onto the desk, and arose from it. She walked slowly up to him, one hand on her hip. With a sly smile, she then leaned in so that her mouth came close to his ear, something that was no easy feat thanks to his height.

“Are you sure I cannot discourage you from this?” she purred, putting one of her hands lightly on his arm.

“Quite.” The Altmer took her wrist in a hard grip to stop her from going further, and the seductive way in which she held herself was gone faster than it had come. They stood there, staring daggers at each other, for a few moments.

“Pity,” she snarled, wringing her hand from his grip, and stepped back a few steps. “It's family business, which means that it isn't yours.”

“Oh really, I wasn't aware that you had any family...” he trailed of with a smirk.

“Not all of us has centuries for a lifetime, who will remember me if I don't leave a legacy, hm?”

“I will. But then again I probably wouldn't go around talking about you,” the Altmer sighed. “Care to satisfy my curiosity yet?” She frowned.

“Not really, no. But I suppose that is the only way to get rid of your ugly face,” she smiled with her lips, while her eyes were still glaring.

“Naturally,” he answered her and winked, causing her to tilt her ears back slightly.

“I need to get my foster-daughter to Skyrim. She is a member of the Imperial legion, so the only way to get her here would be for them to send her. But because she's a forester, I doubt they'd send her to help with the war. Thus, I'm arranging to have her brought here,” Dar'Ilthi said, and the Altmer raised an eyebrow. “Her being accused for murder ought to be enough for the empire too hand her over.” The khajiit shrugged as if though it was the most natural thing in the world, and went to sit down on her desk.

“You're calling in favor's from Maven Black-Briar to have your foster-daughter brought to Skyrim?” he asked incredulously, and she shrugged again.

“It's important that she gets here.”

“Obviously.” The Altmer stood staring into the air for a few seconds before he shook his head and sighed.

“Well, I've ought to get going. Don't get your foot trapped in a bear-trap,” he said, and a moment later everything was back to normal, Dar'Ilthi alone in her room, shaking her head and sighing.

3E 433, 10th Second seed

Roland Jenseric made his feet step forward through the darkness of the Imperial Temple District. Having come home from Bravil late, he wished nothing but too meet his beloved at once, but she had not been at home when he knocked on the door. Knowing that she frequently took walks through the district during the night, despite his insistence that she shouldn't, he'd left the security of home to search for her.

His search seemed to bear fruit as he spotted a feminine shape walking against him along the road further on, and he was just about to call out to her when he heard two voices in a whispered conversation in the small garden on his right.

“I need to feed before we head back. There's a meeting in the Order of the Virtuous Blood tomorrow, and though they're not good at recognizing vampires, I'm quite certain they'll react if my face is covered in wrinkles tomorrow,” the first of the voices said, and Roland froze on the spot. He barely had the sense to take cover in one of the doorways before the two men stepped out on the street.

“Well, a quick snack couldn't hurt. I just hope we'll find someone good this time. I've been drinking beggar's blood and stored blood these last weeks. Horrible,” the second man said, and his voice sounded a bit lighter. Jenseric could barely see as he shuddered beneath his dark cloak.

“Oh, we'll find something,” the first voice said, just before it laid eyes on the woman who was still walking some distance away from them. “That one looks alright, doesn't it? We'll just have to muddle her memories since she's awake.” Roland Jenseric felt his blood run cold as he heard the man's words, yet found that he could neither run nor call out for her to do so, so paralysed was he by fear.

“Al right. Just a small amount though, and do it quickly or we'll have the legion after us,” the second voice said, sighing.

“You know me, I'm the soul of caution.” Jenseric could almost hear the smirk from the first man as he reassured his companion.

“No one's cautious when the blood frenzy sets in Seridur,” the second man hissed, just as quietly as before. Yet he did not stop his companion from approaching the woman. Roland watched in horror as the man walked up to her and said something to catch her attention. The woman flinched at his words, and looked up to see who'd said them.

Her body grew still when her eyes leveled with that of the man who'd been called Seridur by his companion, and the man chuckled before talking a look around and bending over her neck.

Roland Jenseric could see very clearly how the vampire sucked out her life's blood and she grew limp.
“Enough now Seridur, don't kill her,” the other man said, and Jenseric guessed that he was a vampire too. The vampire who were feeding did not respond however, so the other one ran to him with inhuman speed, sighing as he took a firm grip around the others' neck and drew him from the woman. Seridur would not have it, but growled at his companion when his hood flew of and the brightly red eyes narrowed at the other vampire. Shivering, the human male pressed himself firmer against the wall, all too keen to stay out of the feral vampires view.

“Enough,” the vampire who was still in control of himself hissed as he put both of his hands around the neck of his friend, ignoring the frantic clawing that tore his cloak to shreds. Then he made a quick motion with his hands, and Roland heard a sickening crunch as he saw the body of the vampire slump to the ground, head following a moment after when the other vampire released it.

The vampire that still lived paused and took a deep breath before turning his eyes to the woman lying on the ground, and crouched by her side. Jenseric could seem him as he looked at her skin, touched her neck and made sure her head was in a better position. Then Roland slipped slightly, and the noise that his shoes made against the stone rang out crystal clear in the dark of night. The vampire started, but merely turned to look at him slightly, still more focused on the woman.

“Come. She's still alive, and we need to get her to the temple,” the vampire called out in his clear voice, and the man huddling in the shadows carefully stepped out of them. Wide-eyed he then approached the vampire whom had turned his gaze back to the woman and was sending healing magic into her body.

“She's lost a lot of blood, and I don't know how to restore it. The healer's may know, but it all comes down to the will of the divines,” he looked up at Roland when he'd finished speaking, and the Imperial nodded hesitantly as he placed a hand on the woman’s wrist to check that she truly lived. The vampire waited for the other man to feel her pulse before he took the woman in his arms and stood up. Roland Jenseric allowed it, though a frown covered his face, and followed the vampire when he made his way down the street towards the temple. Thankfully it wasn't far, and they soon stood outside the large building, at which the vampire turned to the mortal man.

“You'll have to bring her in, I'm not welcome in this home of the nine,” the vampire said as he carefully held her out for Roland to take in his arms instead, and in the light of a nearby torch the imperial could see the features of an Altmer beneath the vampire's hood, and oddly green eyes that emitted a faint light. Then she was in his arms, and the vampire whispered good luck to him before he put his hand up and rapped his knuckles on the wooden door before turning on his heel and disappearing into the night.

The door swung open moments afterwards, and the man looked up to see who it was that had opened it. A woman in a healers robe stood there, and he was so relieved that he had trouble finding his words as she looked down upon him and the burden he carried in his arms.

“A vampire attacked her, she's lost a lot of blood,” he uttered frantically, and the woman told him to follow her as she stepped in and headed against the opposite wall of the temple. He did not take in his surroundings, as all he could look at was his beloved when he got help to put her on a table and the healer worked on her through the rest of the night. When the morning's light shone through the windows, the man was in shock from all that had happened, and so did not hear it the first time the healer spoke to him. When he finally did, he did not know whether to believe her or not.

“We've managed to restore enough blood for her to be able to reproduce the rest on her own. She'll live.”

*




I remember that, you did an Awesome job on the love for Dreth, it was a shock when she killed him after mating, lol. Loved that story!



I LOVE it !!! You've pulled another shocker, AWESOME !!!

Wonderful Write !!


*

OOooh, excellent!!... ...Both parts!...

Always love the "Lets kill the vampire" quest... ...

I love stories that jump about time somewhat... ...*Applauds*...

Looking forward to seeing how you bring it all together...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...



EDIT...Just noticed this...



I'm assuming you mean beloved?... ...

Congrats on a new story!

Wow, a vampire with a touch of humanity. Very neat. Nice job!

Vampires? I am so in! Lets see some blood spill! Woo!

Thank you everyone

And now for something completely different!

3E 384, 14th Rain's Hand

Due to their nature, the mystic Archives were never lit with the ordinary oil lamps or candles. During the days when the sun shone, an old construction of glass and diamond held the place well lit by dispersing its rays around the rooms. And during the night, welkynd stones and other magically infused stones served the same purpose, to give enough light to read in. A ledger lay on a lectern near the door, in which people wrote down the title of whatever book they'd chosen to borrow. Tar-Meena was the name of the Mystic Archives keeper. She had held the post for three years, and were expected to hold it for many others yet.

A gust of wind came in through the door when it was opened, and caused the page of the ledger to change. The man who'd opened the door paused briefly to return the book to its former state, and then he moved further into the library in search of its keeper. He found her at one of the shelves in the back, on her toes trying to return some books that had been turned in.

"Would you like some help with that?" the man asked with a smile, and the female argonian turned back when she heard his voice.

"Oh, it's you." She sighed, but stopped reaching for the top shelf, and handed him the book. "Very well. There are another couple of copies with that title on the upper shelf, put it next to them," Tar-Meena said and moved over to the box by the side of the shelf, in which more books were laying. The man took a look at the title of the book in his hand, De Rerum Dirennis, and reached up and placed it next to it's twin.

"So, Sorcalin, to what do I owe this pleasure?" the woman asked as the two of them moved amongst the shelves and sorted the books in the box. No expression was on her face that could ever convince anyone that it was a pleasure for her to meet him. He did not pay attention to this however, but spoke as if though they were two old friends.

"Something have happened for which I never planned, and I do not know how to handle it," he sighed as he spoke, and Tar-Meena rolled her eyes.

"When does anything ever go against you plans?" she asked sarcastically and turned her eyes to him. What she found on his face shocked her so profoundly that it took a moment for her to speak. "Sheogorath beat me senseless, you're in love!" She gaped at him.

"I am not at all familiar with the subject, but yes, I believe I am. And I do not know what to do," he answered as the argonian put a hand to her head and seated herself in the chair that stood just behind her.

"What daedra would be so senseless as to put that curse upon a woman," she murmured beneath her breath. "Mara save us all."

"Please, give me some advice," the elf said, looking down on her pleadingly, completely ignoring the words that most would see as an insult.

"Leave the girl alone, that is all I can advice you to do. We both know what have come of the people who've earned your affection in the past. If she has another suitor, then let him have her. He would have to be a murderer not to deserve her more than you," Tar-Meena said and looked up at him again, sadness pouring out of every part of her face.

"I cannot do that, I do not know how. She is like a breath of fresh air in the middle of summer, how could I not pursue her?" his eyes met the floor when he spoke, then he sighed as he met Tar-Meena's gaze again.

"Then tell her what you are so that she can run herself," the woman said with a hard look. The elf made to speak, but she silenced him with a raised hand. "No, I will not hear any more of the matter. What happens to the girl is on your head, and your head only. It is by the arch-magi's courtesy that you are even standing here, do not make me ask her to revoke that permission." Tar-Meena stood, and moved away from him to replace the last of the books.

Sorcalin looked after her, but did not question the woman, for he respected her more than most mages he'd ever met. Sighing once again, he steered his feet to the door and escaped into the hustle that was the Arcane University.

YAY!!... ...

Change is good...I like change...Imagination...

I applaud you!!...

So, who the her that is Arch-Mage then?...

Love the visit to the archive...

I look forward to more of yer changes... ...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

Here is the complete list of the characters whom I have created and who have/will appear in any of my stories. I'll update it as everything progresses. If I've forgotten anyone, please tell me.

Original characters:

Profession or title Name/Alternate name[meaning of name(if dragon language)] (race) – extra information

A
Commoner Adrasteia Braccus (Imperial) – Eventual wife of Sorcalin, but also courted by __

Centurion/Captain of the Imperial army Arturius Braccus (Imperial) – attracted to Ekali

B
C
Ranger-for-hire Caoilinn (Bosmer) - Turncloak that helped the Thalmor conquer Valenwood.

Alchemist Celedaen (Altmer) – Student of the Arcane University at the same time as He-Twists-His-Tail. Moved to Bruma at some point and opened an alchemy shop. Thus met Ekali occasionally. Among others he sold her the cure poison potion in EotFH.

D
Dark Brotherhood leader, former bandit Dar'Ilthi (Khajiit) – fostermother of Ekali

Caravan guard Do'Rak (khajiit) – Inerri's mate

E
Dragonborn, former forester Ekali/Golgronfron[earth bind kin] (khajiit) – main character in Ekali of the Frozen Heights (EotFH)

F
Silencer Felisa Serhas (dunmer) – loved Valen Dreth. Main character in Wfuabh.

Bruma guard Felix (Imperial)

G
Champion of Cyrodiil Gasheera (khajiit) – saved Tamriel from Mehrunes Dagon. Sa'Quiras' mate.

Gladio (Wolf) – Companion to Ekali

H
He-Twists-His-Tail/Twist (Argonian)

J
Bruma guard Janus (Imperial)

Juliana (Imperial) – betrothed to Janus

K
Bandit leader Khan gro-Tira (orc) – leader of the group of bandits Sa'Quira belonged to

L
I
Leader of one of the merchant caravans Inerri (khajiit) – Do'Raks' mate

M
M'ethe (khajiit, alfiq) – son of S'iniith

M'errunz (khajiit) – childhood friend of Sa'Quira, fell in love with her

N
Bruma guard Neven Dreth (Dunmer)

O
Bruma guard Olaf (Nord)

P
Q
R
S
Bandit Sa'Quira (khajiit) – mate of Gasheera, helped him save Tamriel. Ancestor of Dar'Ilthi, sister to S'iniith.

Shakh (orc) - Met Ekali on the Throat of the world

Merchant S'iniith (khajiit) – mother of M'ethe, sister of Sa'Quira

The magi/thief Sorcalin (Altmer/Vampire)

T
U
Companion member Ulvith (Nord)

Caravan guard Urjora (khajiit)

V
W
X
Y
Z

McBadgere: I actually don't know who the arch-mage is at the moment. I've got some ideas, but I'm now sure if I actually want to use them.

I thought of this piece after my grandfathers urn had been buried this last Tuesday.

While it is short, I can think of no way to make it longer. I do not know how to do so without focusing on anything but the tragedy of the occasion, and there's only so much you can write about something like this.

3E 390, 12th Sun's Dawn

The quick scratching of the quill stopped when a loud thud was heard from the adjoining room, and the high elf dropped it with a frown on his face as he swept towards the door. He knew very few magicians would be able to send anything through the wards he'd constructed, even less a heavy enough object to create a thumping sound. He also doubted that any of his former teachers or associates would want anything to do with him after such a long time, and as such there really only was one possible sender left.

Sorcalin stopped as he was just about to open the door to the other room, and looked down at his trembling hand, mere inches from the handle of the door. Why would he even bother using that amount of power unless the delivery was something important? A stone settled itself in his stomach as he thought it over, not finding any plausible answer. What could even be so important, except for the people already in the Altmer's care? He drew in a ragged breath, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before reaching his hand out towards the door again, features grim with determination.

It swung open easily, and Sorcalin could almost feel his heart stopping as he took in the sight before him. Inaction took hold of his every limb as he stared in shock, and he slumped to the ground before her still body, eyes still wide open with fear. He barely noted the envelope held in her hand, or the hurried steps behind him and then the frantic voice calling to him. Wondering if he was alright, then falling silent at the sight of her. Tears ran down his cheeks unchecked, and he stretched his hand out in a daze, seeking hers and hoping, no begging and fervently wishing, to find it warm. But it was as cold as the stones on which they both lay – Sorcalin had not even noticed that he was lying down – and her eyes no longer held the spark that had been there every time he'd spoken to her. Her skin was pale, much like the snow in the winter, and his magic could not feel even a trace of her energy.

She was gone, truly and irrevocably lost to him, and there was nothing that he could do to change that. Unable to get his hands on the heirs and their teacher, the impostor had gone after the protector in the only way he could. By taking away the only person that Sorcalin truly loved. His wife.

It took hours before he was stable enough to reach for the envelope – it bore his seal – and open it.

I do not take lightly to people who interfere with my affairs, and I trust that this will be a sufficient lesson.
You may be interested to know that she was with child – yours – when I killed her.

J. T.

Fresh tears welled in his eyes, and rage grew in his heart, but the High elf merely dropped the parchment and drew closer to her, cradling his beloved in his arms.

Author's note: I would be curious to know why you think Jagar Tharn would kill Sorcalin's wife, if you can come up with any ideas. I will post what I've written about the reason in a few days, but I'd like to hear what you think in the meantime.

Fair enough...



...



Fair enough, 'tis a wonderful and to the point piece that says it all...No need to expand, it's brilliant...

Aaamywho, the Sorcalin/Tharn thing...

Is it something to do with the Barenziah (sp?) thing?...When he (Tharn) impersonated Uriel and seduced Barenziah...Perhaps Sorcalin worked out somehow that Uriel was Tharn even back then, and threatened him that way...

Dunno...Was the first thing I thought of though... ...

Brilliant writing...

A sad and horrible event for Sorcalin to endure and keep going for all that time with... ...

Loving it!!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

I think the length suited your purpose well here. Very powerful, Saquira. Well done!

I have a lot of things to say about that last line, but I can not articulate my thoughts. I can only say that it was extraordinarily well-written. I know this comment isn't exactly helpful, but that line really was touching.

McBadgere: Well, Sorcalin did find out who Jagar Tharn was when he was impersonating someone, but not that early. I figure he knew Tharn as the Imperial Battlemage, and then when Tharn banished the emperor and took his place the elf found out that something was wrong rather quickly. And thanks

Grits and Zalphon: Thank you

According to the Imperial Library Tharn was in charge of the empire from 3E 389-399, and I've found no information about what happened to the emperors heirs during that time. There are some rumors that they'd been sent to schools far away. So I'm making it so that those are rumors Tharn started in order to cover up the fact that really, the heirs disappeared.

So here follows the exact reason to why Jagar Tharn killed Sorcalin's wife.

3E 389, 29th Hearthfire

His steps were quick against the hard stones of the palace, yet – thanks to his leather raiment – he made no noise. Most of the guards were not there at the moment. Those not yet completely under the impostors spell still trusted him, and so believed that the instructions Sorcalin had given them came from the emperor. Had the emperor been available to speak with, he probably would have given those same orders, but there was no way that anyone could know that at present. The emperor, Uriel Septim VII, was no longer in charge, as Sorcalin had noticed a day ago, and as such the high elf was in a hurry to get his charges to safety.

He stopped in front of the door leading to Enman's quarters, hands brushing across the smooth surface briefly as he sent an unlocking spell into it. He'd managed to encourage the lads to all stay in Enman's rooms for the night, and the imposter had not objected, probably thinking that he'd put his own plans for the emperors heirs into play. Only his ignorance concerning Sorcalin's powers had prevented the High elf from being imprisoned instead of simply being fired, and it gave him the perfect opportunity to take the boys to safety.

Using a silencing charm on the door, the warlock slipped through it and hurried through the small lounge to the doors of the bedroom. This door was unlocked, but held an alarm enchantment that the Altmer had to disarm before he could move through. He saw them instantly when he slipped inside, lying on the three beds in the room, and hurried up to the closest of the boys. He put his hand over the youths mouth before shaking his shoulder with the other, and Geldall came awake with a start, struggling for a bit before he noticed who was holding him down. When he'd done so he stilled and gazed at the man, a puzzled look on his face.

Sorcalin moved the fingers of his free hand to gesture for the boy to be quiet, and when the lad nodded in understanding the elf released him and went on to wake his brothers in the same manner. When all of them were awake, the Altmer aided them in donning inconspicuous clothing. Then they snuck out of the room with Sorcalin in the lead.

They'd only descended one floor when footsteps sounded ahead of them, the light of fire flickering along the hallway, and the elf pushed all of them into one of the unused rooms, managing to shut the door just before the men came into sight. Looking through the keyhole, he could see several of the impostors guards, as well as the man himself, in his guise as the emperor. However, as the guards were loyal to him, he put no further effort looking as the emperor than his looks, and so it was obvious even to the boys who'd rarely met him, that their father was no longer present in the palace.

As soon as the light and footsteps faded, the four continued to hurry through the corridors, and it was not until they left the palace and entered Green Emperor Way that shouts were heard through the huge building. Then Sorcalin and the boys ran, as swiftly as they could without drawing much attention to themselves.

A paralyzation spell on the guards at the gate to the Arboretum put them out of play, and the high elf cast only a look backwards before following the young boys through. Daedra in the guise of guards were spreading across the grounds.

They met Adrasteia near the southeastern gate, her worried look showing that her path had not been without trouble. He greeted her with a quick peck on the lips, then she took the hands of the youngest boys in hers and they hurried through the gate that was suspiciously void of guards. Sorcalin did not ask her about it, trusting her completely, and merely thanked the Nine that they had been uninterrupted so far.

Casting another look backwards as they hurried across the grass-covered slope towards the water, the Altmer saw that the daedra had abandoned their human disguises, and told the others to run faster. Dark surrounded them, but he knew that that would not hinder the demons eyesight, and he knew enough of the Imperial isle to be able to lead them on a safe path to the water where a boat was waiting for them.

He flung a fireball over his shoulder as the growls came closer, and then almost threw Enman into the boat before him, as Adrasteia and the other boys were already in it, and pushed on the wooden construction, putting all of the momentum he'd gained into doing it faster. The daedra were close behind him, but he flung himself into the boat before they could reach their claws out after him. The creatures dared not follow them into the dark waters, and so Sorcalin took out the oars as the others huddled together for warmth, looking back onto the shore with frightened gazes.

It was a few hours later when the bottom of the water faring craft touched upon the shore of the southern bank and the four humans and the elf clambered out. Still no explanation was offered for the boys, for there would be time for that later, and they were not yet beyond danger.

Adrasteia took Socalin's face in her hands and kissed him before she looked into his eyes one last time and turned around. It had been her idea for them to separate after they left the city, and so she didn't look back as she hurried away, drawing her green cloak closer about her. Though it pained him, the High elf knew her reasoning was sensible. They'd be hard pressed to stay out of the impostors grasp for the next few weeks, and so it's be safer for his wife to travel on her own to a location that he did not know of. The battlemage would be more focused on gaining the heirs before they slipped out from his grasp completely, and so was unlikely to put much effort into hunting her before it became clear that doing so would be the only way to get at the Altmer. And by then, hopefully, it'd be too late.

Wow...Nice one!...Very much the hero...Well, certainly at this point he's a hero...*Applauds*...

That was a very cool piece of writing there...Loved it!!...

Really sad that that was the last time they'd see each other...Just a quick parting...That really is sad...Well done there!!... ...

Brilliant stuff...

Nice one!!...

*applauds heartily*...

I like the plot that's developing here and I'm inclined to agree with McBadgere, it was quite sad.

So I've got this bad case of writer's block concerning EotFH, and I figured I'd post some more about Sorcalin that I wrote during the vacation to make up for it somewhat. With school and my training beginning now, I won't have as much time to write anymore, but I'll do my best. I've got another two scenes with Sorcalin written up, and then another couple that are half finished. So I do have some stuff to post.

I'm getting closer to figuring out who the arch-mage is, though she still lacks a name and appearance.

3E 380 11th Sun's Dawn

The female Breton barely had time to put up a shield before the male in the green doublet slashed at her with a dagger. She used her staff to shoot a frost spell at him as he and the other two necromancers closed in on her. A fireball, whose caster she could not see, engulfed one of them a moment later, but the other two were still approaching. The remaining necromancer in the black robe summoned a corpse that lumbered after her, and though the green-clad man was slowed down by the frost, he didn't pause in coming at her.

She barely noticed the fireball that impacted with the summoners chest a moment later, because Mercator Hosidius had just knocked her of her feet and moved to kill her. But before he could do so, a silver dagger stuck out of his chest, and she crawled backwards with wide eyes as the man slumped to the ground. An imperial in brown and black finery appeared before her, and when she started he glared down at the woman by his feet. She gasped for breath as the man pushed the steward away, and another man came up – this one a High elf – and took a hold around her arms to pull her up. She was still enveloped in shock when the imperial began to talk.

“You impossible fool! What possessed you to think I would suggest a meeting here, of all places!?” he practically growled at her as he narrowed his red eyes. “At least your gullibility served some useful purpose. I knew about Mercator, but not his friends. Now none of them are a threat any longer. Despite what your council thinks, I've not joined the Necromancers and would never do so. You may pass along that message,” he ranted, not stopping until the other man put a hand on his shoulder. Then his rage abated some, and he realized that the woman was leaning away from him slightly in shock. There was no fear in her eyes however when he met them, and he blinked in surprise.

“Well I'll beg your pardon then, for I know nothing of what you're rambling on about! Assuming you're the count, I've been sent to fetch a book you borrowed from the guild,” she said angrily as she glared at him. And this time it was the count who leaned backwards while the high elf standing behind him guffawed. The imperial kept on blinking with a stunned expression for several minutes before he managed to find his voice.

“Then I'll ask you to forgive me, but I hope you realize that there is no book, and that you were sent to find out about my allegiance. You tell your council that the next time they want something from me, they come themselves. They don't send someone under false pretenses.” She was no longer glaring when he finished. “I regret that Traven has involved you in this way. At least you've survived... for now. Perhaps in the future, you can be trusted enough to deal with more serious matters. Now, our business here is concluded. I suggest you return to your council.” The count straightened his clothes as he said this, giving her a curt nod before turning towards the city and walking away. The Altmer smiled at her and bowed down slightly before he followed the other man. She looked after them for a while before shaking her head to clear it – meaning she had to brush the black hair away from her face – and heading off in her own direction.

Nobody likes Mercator--and I don't blame them. I do like how she was knocked down and when she stood up, there was a silver dagger in his chest. Just a bit of an interesting way to do it.

Writer's block is a b!tch...My own problem is, I know what to write, I just can't get around to starting, and find many other, and far more interesting things to do to avoid it...*Whistles* ...

I'm sure something will turn up soon...



School and training is important...The story is not going anywhere...Get settled in, then come back to it when you know what you are doing...So says the aged fool parent of a teenager!!... ...

Aaaaamywho...

Blimey!...You have that happen a long time before Oblivion doncha?... ...Wassat, 80-odd years before?...Fair dues, I do like the way you've done that though...It's pretty mysterious what's going on, just thrown in in the middle of a fight...And yet, if you've done that quest it gives a little "Yay!!" to it!... ...

Brilliant stuff...Nicely done!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

Zalphon: Yeah, he's the kind of person that you dislike the moment you meet him.

McBadgere: That's my problem to. And yeah, I'm going to take my time. It happens about fifty years before, which puts the arch-mage in her seventies at the end of the crisis, and that's exactly what I want. Thank you

3E 384, 3rd Sun's Height

As he was walking across the open space his gaze wandered, and settled on the elegant shape of her, haggling with a trader on the other side of the square. He stopped, unable to take his eyes of the woman whom he'd been watching quite a lot since he arrived in the Imperial city the year before. He'd been bickering with himself all that time, trying to to decide what he should do about it. Whether it would be a good idea to introduce himself. He'd even asked Tar-Meena for help a while ago, and still he had no answers. That fact in itself baffled him, as he'd never before faced a problem he couldn't solve. And, being over five hundred years old, shouldn't that be easy for him?

Taking a deep breath, he shuffled his feet slightly and straightened the green doublet that he was wearing, before he began walking the distance across the square. As he approached, he began to hear what exactly she was haggling for. The woman was also glaring at the keeper of the stall when he came up.

“You don't want to buy fish here. It's much cheaper in Weye,” he said, stepping up next to her, and she turned to him with an irritated sound.

“Do you realize that it isn't polite to stare at people, or follow them around?” she asked after laying eyes on him, and the High elf winced as he realized that she'd seen him before.

“I'm sorry, I've been meaning to speak to you before. I simply... didn't know how,” he said with a grimace before smiling at her. She rolled her eyes and made to walk away, but Sorcalin had already spotted the smile that tugged at her lips and wasn't willing to give up so easily. “Would you care to join me for lunch? Tomorrow at noon at the Tiber Septim hotel?” he asked quickly, and she looked back at him.

“If you want to buy me lunch you'll have to tell me your name,” she said, not being able to avoid smiling any longer.

“I am Sorcalin, may I ask for my lady's name?” He bowed slightly at her, forcing her to stifle a chuckle.

“My name is Adrasteia Braccus,” she said with mirth and he took her hand, bending down to kiss it.

“Pleased to meet you, my lady,” he said as he stood up again, just in time to witness her flushing cheeks.

“Well, I suppose we'll see each other tomorrow,” she breathed out, then she turned from him and walked away down a street that connected to the square. Just as she was about to turn onto another street, she turned to look back at him, and he smiled at her.

It wasn't until a long while after that he looked about himself and began to walk towards the palace, smiling broadly as he did so.

Awww... ...

Nicely done...Five hundred years old and still gets jitters talking to women... ...Fantastic!...

Love the name btw... ...

Lovely and sweet chapter...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

He's quite the lady charmer. *Raises Brow* Did he study at the Bard's College?

GAAAAH! You give just glimpses, it ends before it begins! Still, you seem to excel at setting a mood quickly in these tiny chapters, just enough that it leaves us wanting to yell, MORE !!! Awesome Write !!

McBadgere: Thanks, I wasn't quite sure if I managed to make it sound realistic. The name Adrasteia is greek and means; "Who does not flee; the inescapable one", in case you want to know.

Zalphon: No, I don't think he did.

mALX: Thank you

So I'm posting two this time because the second is so short. Well, all of the stuff I post in this thread is short, but I like it that way. Anyways, I really love these two. The picture of Dirge falling into the water is so very appealing

4E 201, 23nd Last Seed

The thieves of the Ragged Flagon looked up from their card game when they heard the beating of boots against stone, and then wood. Dirge stepped in front of the dark shape coming out of the shadows. But, allowing her hood to fall down, Dar'Ilthi glared at the man and pushed him aside. Dirge fell into the water, and the rest of the thieves merely sat in shocked silence as the listener of the Dark Brotherhood stormed past into the cistern.

Her steps led her over the water of the cistern and past the people who were sparring. The person shooting with a bow was so shocked to see her that his arrow went wide from the target. Those who were training sword-fighting froze and turned to watch her.

She paid them no attention, but headed straight for the area just outside the vault, where the guild master was looking through the income reports. He looked up and started when he saw her, stepping back from the papers.

“Stay away from her,” the Listener growled and pushed him against the wall so that her retracted claws came dangerously close to his throat. He merely stared her in the eyes until the point when she growled in frustration and stepped back from him. Then the altmer touched his hand to his throat, so as to make sure it actually was alright, before stepping up to his desk again.

“Do you truly have so little faith in me?” he asked her, and she narrowed her eyes further before she stepped up next to him.

“Yes. And I've come too far to have you to destroy everything now,” Dar'Ilthi growled. Sorcalin shook his head and sighed as he looked up at her again.

“I don't mean her any harm, and why should I do what you say anyway?” he glared at her, and she glared back while leaning in close towards him.

“It doesn't matter what your intentions are, you leave bodies behind wherever you go! She has a task to complete!” The khajiit's voice rose to a shout at the end, and the elf's face got a forlorn expression.

“I don't need to be reminded of that. In any case, you can not expect to rule her life. You allowed her to leave you, now you have to deal with the consequences. The girl's the only one that can decide who she'll socialize with.” His eyes met hers as he looked her over, and a puzzled expression came over him. “You're afraid, you're afraid that your mistakes will make her fail. This is not about me,” By now his tone had lowered enough so that they were the only two who could hear each other. She started, and looked around to check so that it was really the case.

Then she turned back to him, fur bristled as she growled at him. “That's none of your business,” she spat at him.

“Just like it's none of your business who your daughter socializes with,” he shot back and she narrowed her eyes at him again. Her hands were down on the desk as she leaned towards him, and her claws were retracted once more, but they only thrashed a bunch of his papers when they glared at each other.

“I won't be held responsible for the outcome if I'm given the opportunity to kill you again,” she growled, and he gave a scathing smile in return.

“Likewise. Now, if you'd only leave, I have business to which I must attend,” he said, allowing the volume of his voice to increase so that the rest of the room could hear him. She cast a look around the room in which most of the thieves had gathered, weapons drawn or only half sheathed.

“Your subordinates will not always be here to protect you,” she said coldly as she sheathed her own claws and stood back from the desk.

“What makes you think I need them?” he asked coldly in return, allowing flames to engulf his hands just long enough for her to take notice, and she sent him one last glare before leaving the sewers.

4E 202, Unknown date

They're lying next to each other in the grass, the wolf on the other side of her resting as peacefully as he ever does. Sorcalin's thoughts are of her, of why he spoke to her in the beginning. Of why he'd continued to seek her out. Was it because she's Dragonborn, or because he knew her mother? He didn't think so then, and he still doesn't. Perhaps it was because of how she looked that first time, and how she's looked ever since.

She was in a dress amongst nobles, looking as out of place as anyone could. She spoke politely with everyone, yet the smile on her face was fake, just as his has been for many years. Perhaps that was the reason, because when he looked at her he recognized something he only saw in the mirror. Pain and sorrow, and the knowledge that whatever you do you can not get back what you lost. They're alive, but many times it doesn't feel like it.

She mentions the look on Ulfric Stormcloaks face the first time she met the man and he got to know that she's Dragonborn, he makes a funny remark, and she bursts out laughing. He can't remember ever hearing the sound from her, so he smiles, and then he's laughing as well. Something he hasn't done for many years. And he knows why he keeps talking to her and seeking her out. Because they're two sides of the same coin, they've experienced similar things and knows the same kind of sorrow. And both of them needs that carefree kind of relationship in which they've found themselves.

He's had partners, and he's had friends and affairs. But he's never had anyone in whom he recognizes himself. They're both magnets of trouble, and they've both been torn apart by their sense of duty. More importantly, they both have each others trust, something that neither of them dare give to more than a few.

They don't talk about the stuff that's caused their sorrow, they don't talk about her upcoming battle with Alduin. They talk about the shape of the clouds and who it was that stuck a stick up Maven Black-Briar's behind, what would happen if Stormcloak and Tullius became friends. And for once, they don't have to care about the people around them.

Ooooh...Two sides here...The intense assassin and the man who loved...

Nice cameo from Ekali there btw...

The quiet fight between Sorcalin and Dar'Ilthi was nicely done...Great dialogue...Loved it...

Teeny Nit...



Either, "She's the only one that can decide who she'll socialize with"...

Or if you're definate about the whom, "She's the only one who can decide with whom she'll socialize."

Possibly the using of the two "she" is one too many...

Just saying is all... ...

I think you missed the s off the end of socializes a little later on as well...

Brilliant stuff... ...*Applauds again*...

Nice to see Dirge take a swim. Also fun to recognize Ekali.

A rather...blunt listener, but I like it. It's definitely odd for a member of the Brotherhood to be so confrontational, but it is a new way of viewing them.

Very powerful name then, I love that! Thank you for sharing that, very interesting fact!

The New Currency: Thalms

The currency was first implemented on the Summerset Isle in 4E 22 when the Thalmor took control of the island and gave it the name Alinor. It wasn’t accepted as the main currency in most of Tamriel until 4E 175 when the Dominion finally brought the Empire to its knees. With the Second Treaty of Stros M’kai in 180, the currency was also accepted as optional in Hammerfell. By 4E 200, it had become the dominating currency in the whole of Tamriel.

Because it is very fatiguing to carry around lots of gold coins, several different ones with different values have been implemented since the currency was first used, and two banks have also opened up branches all over Tamriel. They allow you to deposit and withdraw money from any of their buildings, no matter in which building you’ve previously left your money.

Common use is to name all of the coins thalms, or to speak of them according to what metal they’re made of. The coins are as follows:

Small corundum coin worth 1 thalm. A dragons tail on one side, a dragons head on the other.
Corundum coin worth 50 thalms. A miner’s pick on one side, and completely smooth on the other.
Small silver coin worth 100 thalms. A bow on one side, and a V on the other.
Silver coin worth 1000 thalms. A cross on one side, and a shield on the other.
Small gold coin worth 5000 thalms. A longsword on one side, and the other is completely smooth.
Gold coin worth 10000 thalms. A crown on one side and a staff on the other.

Nicely worked out that...Well done!!... ...

*Applauds*...

Merry Christmas everyone, I hope you have a pleasant few days.

This is a piece that I've been working on for quite some time, and I've finally decided that it's time you got to know a bit more of Sorcalin's past. Still only mentioned in passing, but it's something at the very least I'll go into more detail at some later time.

3E 383, 3rd Hearthfire

“I'm thankful that you could come at such short notice. The archmage herself recommended you, and though it might be wiser to take someone from the Arcane university, the only one I trust in that place is the archmage herself,” Uriel Septim VII said, putting some papers down to the side on his desk before looking up at the High elf as he came through the door. A guard closed it behind the man, though not before said guard had stepped in and taken up post by the door.

“I merely do as I'm asked, sire. It is an honour for me to help you in any way possible,” the man said, bending at the waist. When he did so, a glimpse of leather armour could be seen underneath the cloak, and the emperor raised an eyebrow as he noted this.

“The archmage did mention that, even though you aren't a member of the guild, you're a quite accomplished wizard. Would you care to give me some credentials?” he continued to ask when the other man straightened up again.

“I'm afraid it's quite a tedious story, my liege. I did act as adviser for Kintyra Septim I, before and after she became empress. But I'm afraid that's my greatest accomplishment. And my teachers long ago stopped venturing from their home, so I do doubt that you'd have heard of them from anything but storybooks. And storybooks can be quite inaccurate,” the Altmer, Sorcalin, said and smiled, at which Uriel VII furrowed his brow.

“She did mention that you knew quite a bit about the early Septim line. You wouldn't happen to have any experience with teaching?” The emperor gestured for the elf to sit in the chair near his desk, and the other man did as he'd been asked, putting one leg atop the other before he answered.

“I taught about the history of our people at the place of my birth for a few years, and I doubt it would take much to use those skills to teach about your history instead,” he said, and the Septim nodded as he pulled out a book from one of the shelves.

“And where is that exactly?” he asked, and the elf sighed.

“An island just outside Summerset,” he uttered quickly.

“Alright.” Uriel Septim stood still for a moment, thinking as he looked at the wizard. “During what time did you advise the empress? There's no records of anyone but her steward and the elder council,” he said when he looked at the elf again.

“I was never officially given the position of adviser, though she usually listened to me all the same. We met a few months after her eighteenth birthday, and though I greatly regret it, I could not be there on the day of her death. Kintyra I was a splendid woman, both when it came to her roles as mother and empress, as well as friend.” The emperor nodded thoughtfully at this, and preceded to ask the elf several more questions before deciding on whether or not he could be a good choice.

“Then there’s the matter of your being a vampire, I trust that you are able to keep your urges under control?” It was the wizards turn to look surprised as his eyes flickered to the door, likely expecting guards to burst through it at any moment. The emperor noted the look, but did not comment.

“So she told you that, didn’t she? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.” He smiled as he turned back to the emperor.

“Her loyalties are to me first after all, I believe she must have told you that at some point. In truth, our dear archmage have been helping me to keep a list of all the known vampires in the Empire, so if someone should go missing, we know exactly whose houses to search first. You’d do well to remember that.” Uriel Septim jotted something down on a paper in front of him before turning back to the vampire.

“She has, and I’ve not forgotten that, I can assure you. Neither have I lost my control once over the last two centuries, so there shouldn’t be a problem. Just out of curiosity, how many vampires are there within the city?” the Altmer asked as he watched the emperor.

“Six of them, including yourself, as well as an unknown amount in the city sewers. We’ve been working on rooting them out for years now, but they’re too many for it to be an easy task. And lord Imbel left a few days ago to go on a hunting-trip. I’ve of course sent vampire hunters after him just in case he tries to prey on humans.” The emperor spoke of the matter as easily as if though they were discussing the weather, and Sorcalin found himself watching the emperor for any signs of discomfort. Not finding any, he leaned back in his chair again. “Well, you mentioned that you were born on an island outside of Summerset Isle. You wouldn't care to tell me exactly which island? If it had a name of course,” The Septim emperor asked and the High elf in front of him grimaced slightly and sighed.

“I'm afraid it's quite well known, the islands' name is Artaeum. Though I can assure you that I’ve had no contact with them for the last few centuries, as my loyalties belong to the empire.” The emperor raised his eyebrows at that, staring at the other man for quite a while before talking again. He even managed to get the wizard to squirm in his seat, a feat that was not easily accomplished.

“Very well. I trust the archmage, and nothing you've said makes me believe that her trust in you is unfounded. I would like to give you the position as the teacher of my children, as long as you only teach them what I allow you to. I do not wish for the Psijiic order to have more influence than necessary,” he said, and the elf bowed his head.

“Of course, my liege. It is an honour to be gifted with the trust you've given me,” the elf answered him, standing up and bowing as the emperor sent for a servant. As the emperor of Tamriel then turned his attention fully to his papers, Sorcalin stepped out through the door just as the servant came down the corridor, and the human brought the elf away to show him his new quarters.

*Applauds*...

Loved that...Your writing of Uriel is brilliant, as ever...

These bit of Sorcalin's past are so cool...I really like him...(Despite the vampirism... ...)...

Looking forward to more...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds most heartily*...

I love the lore you wove into this chapter! The interaction between Uriel Septim and Sorcalin was like watching two men who both know they are powerful sizing each other up - Loved that scene!

I've been working on this since before christmas, but couldn't quite figure out what exactly he'd have to talk with her about until a while ago.

4E 199, 24th Evening Star

The wind was blowing hard outside the wooden walls of the Dead Mans' Drink, sending up snow in large white clouds. It was a quiet place, especially considering it was Saturalia, and the few that talked did so at a low tone while the bard was working on restringing his lute. The majority of people in the inn were Nords, men and women whom had no-one to celebrate the holiday with, or whom had chosen to do so with their friends in the tavern. Only one non-human could be found in the room, and so suspicious looks came her way every now and then.

The door was thrown open suddenly, and many eyes found the man that stepped through. He was untroubled, lowering his leather hood and wiping snow of his clothes before stepping up to the bar. His hand put a handful of thalms on the desk before he spoke.

“A bottle of wine and a bowl of soup please,” the High elf male said with a smile, and the innkeeper nodded in response, pouring some soup from the nearby cauldron and handing it to him together with a spoon, a bottle and a glass. The elf took them with a simple thank you, and walked over to the table where the lone elf woman was sitting. She bent her head up towards him when he sat down, raising an eyebrow silently.

Screenshot

“Well, you certainly look better than when we met the last time,” he said and gestured in the direction of her face. She smiled, and the action accentuated the dimples she'd acquired over the years. The raven black hair on her head was cut short, and though she'd gained several scars over the past two centuries, she looked no more than five years the senior of the woman she'd once been. The hide armour fit snugly around her slim body, and a recurve bow rested against the leg of the table.

“What can I say, the life of a hunter suits me better than I thought,” she answered with a smile, leaning back in the wooden chair. The light thrown upon them from the fire gave her dark skin a warmer tone, but it also helped him see the tattoo in the shape of a hand that rested upon her forehead.

“So I see. What happened to your eyes?” Her smile faltered slightly when he mentioned it, his eyes meeting hers. He couldn't tell if she was looking at him, because a milky white mist covered them, and the last trace of the Dunmer red was long since gone.

“Animal attack. Amazing the kind of damage some claws can do,” she said with sullen mirth, smiling slightly when she downed the remains of the drink in her own glass. Sorcalin's lips turned up slightly, and he uncorked the bottle he'd bought and filled up both of their glasses, at which she raised her eyebrow again. “Now that's something I haven't seen for a century.” She smirked.

“Shouldn't you be blind?” Sorcalin asked with a puzzled look.

“I'm blind, trust me. But there are other ways to see than with your eyes. My other senses are all heightened, and I got some help to modify a life detect enchantment.” She raised her hand on which a silver ring rested before taking another sip from her glass as he started eating his soup. “Stone has the least amount of energy, then there's metal and dead tree. You'd be amazed at the amount of differences there can be in life energy. For example, your lips and eyes have a different tint than the rest of your face, which is how I know that you're smiling. It also changes depending on people's mood,” she said, sighing into the glass.

“Sounds useful,” the Altmer commented.

“If you can't see, yes. Anyone else would probably just get one heck of a headache though. I know what a nuisance the normal spell was. Took me a full hundred years to get used to it.” She turned her head to the fire, closing her eyes briefly as she felt the warmth against them. He smiled slightly at the sight, before her eyes snapped open again and she turned her head back to the High Elf. The smile faltered slightly, as the dimness in her eyes meant that he did not know whether she was looking at him, or something in her peripheral.

“So, how do you occupy yourself these days? Last time we met I recall that you were very active with the Synod and their business.” He smiled again at that comment, and took another sip of his drink.

“Well, that is one thing that certainly has changed. I left the mages years ago, and have apparently become something of a legend here in Skyrim. There are all these interesting rumours of who I actually am, though none of them are actually true. It's quite fun, and a nice change of pace. Mostly however, I run the Thieves guild operating out of Riften here in Skyrim. It's quite profitable if you know what you're doing, which I do of course. We're currently working on expanding the business into the other cities, though its taking some time.” He smiled as he finished, and the woman answered the smile with one of her own. “My biggest problem at the moment is the current Brotherhood listener, as she's quite volatile, but I'm hoping that we'll be able to get along. Though perhaps you could talk to her, you're quite the legend within the Brotherhood, are you not?” he said and smirked, at which she looked around briefly and narrowed her eyes at him.

“And that's something that I'd like to keep the same. There's a reason to why I've changed my name. Sithis only knows what they'd do if they knew I still live,” she muttered, taking another drink from the plain glass in front of her. He chuckled slightly, mirroring the action.

“I'd have thought the honest life would bore you, with all the adventures you used to be a part of,” he spoke before putting a spoon of soup in his mouth, and the woman grimaced, her milky white eyes narrowing at him.

“You forget the fact that I'd never known an honest life, nor a quiet one, when all of that began. Two hundred years ago I wouldn't have had the sense to take the opportunity when it was offered to me, because I'd been given no reason to dislike my life,” she said, staring into the wine as he ate of his meal.

“I know what you mean, if only in part. It doesn't take much to change a person forever,” he sighed when he finally managed to answer.

“Well yeah, I suppose you'd know all about that.” They fell quiet for a while, both of them silently thinking of those whom they'd lost, before Sorcalin finally shook his head and looked up at her.

“We're a fine sight, sitting here on the eve of Saturalia while discussing things that we'd both rather have forgotten.” He smiled slightly as he spoke up, and the Dark elf looked up, hardly being able to contain her smile.

“Yeah,” she muttered, looking down into her glass as she swirled the liquid slightly.

“So, there’ll be a new century soon. Do you have any plans for it?” The Dark Elf smiled at the awful attempt at small talk, but answered none the less.

“Not really. I might learn a new craft or move to another city, I don’t know, might even leave Skyrim. Hammerfell perhaps, as they managed to drive out the Thalmor,” she said, and Sorcalin nodded thoughtfully.

“Well, Hammerfell is certainly a nice place. I still think it’d bore you though,” he said, taking a bite of his food.

“Then what do you suggest?” she asked with a sigh, and he smiled back at her.

“Well Feli…” he began, stopping immediately when she raised her hand for him to stop.

“Don’t speak that name. It’d Fedura now, Fedura Hlaalu to be specific.” He raised his eyebrow at that, but didn’t comment on her new name.

“Well Fedura, what would you say if I offered you a job?” he asked finally, and she snorted.

“With the Thieves guild? No thank you, I’ve had enough of being a criminal,” she said with a sigh, and he looked impatient when he continued.

“Do you really think the only people I deal with are the Thieves guild? No, I have several… let’s call them private contractors, on my payroll. You’d be obtaining information, perhaps infiltrating certain factions. Delivering certain good across the border. Considerably less heat than assassination, if you ever get caught. There’s always something that needs to be done,” he finished, and by that time Fedura was looking at him curiously.

“Of course, you’ve never been able to leave others to take care of their own business,” she said, and he smiled.

“I suppose not. None the less, I think your skills should be used. If people think you're blind, they won't see you as much of a threat any longer, and you could use that to your advantage,” he said, finally finishing his meal and glancing at the clock hanging above the fireplace.

“Very well, I'll consider it,” she said with a sigh when he stood up, reaching his hand out for her to shake. She took it, answering his bright smile with a smaller one of her own.

“I'm glad to hear it. I need to be off now though, I've got a lot to arrange before the beginning of the new year,” he said and pushed the chair in after standing up.

“Very well. How did you find me?” she only just remembered to ask before he left, and he turned back towards her, already having walked halfway across the room.

“That, I'll only tell you if you accept my offer,” he said with a mischievous smile before turning around again and heading out through the door. It had swung closed again by the time that she came up with an answer. And because their last exchange had drawn quite a bit of attention, Fedura emptied her goblet before standing up and picking up her things. Then she left a few thalms on the table and headed outside into the cold air.

Oh, how I have missed yer stories!!... ...

I loved the whole atmosphere in the inn, Falkreath is not the cheeriest place to start with... ...

I also loved the way you got around the milky eyes thing...That's some impressive workaround that is!!...Reminds me a bit of the film Daredevil a bit, but he needed noise to make a "Radar map" of someone's face...I love that you used the subtleties of the life-detect...*Applauds*...

Soooo, used to be an Brotherhood assassin...Bit close to the fire in Falkreath in't she?... ...

Not sure I liked the way he was all matter of fact about how she will decide to do this...But I'll forgive him... ...

Brilliant stuff, glad you managed to get some more out...I know you're busy, but I'm glad you're keeping going, even if it's only as and when...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

Thank you If you didn't catch it, Fedura Hlaalu is Felisa Serhas, the main character of With Fate Uncertain and Bloodstained Hands. As such, when they talk about the fact that she used to be a member of the Brotherhood/Black Hand, they're talking about something that happened nearly two hundred years ago around the time that the 4th Era began. Very few people are going to recognise her, though Sorcalin is one of them.

And as it's been nearly two hundred years, I figure a lot has happened in that time. Those years are more than enough for two elves to get to know each other to the extent that Felisa and Sorcalin has, and as such he knows what she'd take offence to and how good of an offer he'd have to make her. It's also a very long time to spend as a hunter, so if I know her correctly - which I dare say I do - she was sold by the point when he began offering her a job. And I think he knows that as well. She knows the kinds of things he usually gets involved in, because she's witnessed a lot of it.

I don't think I've ever seen that movie. But I figured that with everything people can do in Tamriel, taking an enchantment a few steps further shouldn't be that hard. You definitely couldn't use it as a spell, but with large enough soul gems, enchanting a ring is mostly a question of money.

Coming to read soon, sorry it is taking so long to get here - just very busy right now. <3

3E 390, 13th Sun’s Dawn

Despite the sorrow that lay heavy upon them, and the darkness that would not leave his heavy heart, the weather persisted in being the opposite. For the sun shone down upon them and only a few clouds where present in the sky to impede the path of its rays.

He stood before the newly dug grave, one he’d made with magic because he knew they couldn’t stay for very long, and wondered why he couldn’t cry when the tears had come so freely before. Though he knew the boys stood behind him, he ignored them. The pain that lay heavily upon his heart was enough, and he could not bring himself to look upon them and see the pity that they most certainly held in their eyes. He’d had enough of pain and sorrow and broken hearts, and he didn’t know if he'd be able to bear it.

His thoughts turned to Tharn against his will, the vile pretender that infiltrated the court and did who-knows-what to their emperor. The pretender from whom he stole the Septim heirs, who in return took the life of his wife. A sudden rage roared through him then, soaring through both heart and body, and for a moment he almost considered returning to the Imperial City to kill the man who tore his life apart.

But no, Tharn’s magic was so similar to his own that such an action would lead the Battlemage to the heirs, and they’re his responsibility. Besides, others were working to dethrone the imposter and bring back the true emperor and his interruption would not serve them in the least.

So he merely stood there, unable to cry as the rage roared through his veins, and then he raised one hand to slowly incant the spell that would fill the grave. When the surface was smooth, only slightly raised above the surrounding ground, he built a cairn of stones on top of it and wrote Adrasteia with Aldmeri letters on one of the larger stones as a promise that he’d return one day with a proper gravestone.

When it was all over, when Jagar Tharn had been dethroned and the emperor found, his heirs safe once again, then he’d return to the remote spot in the middle of the forest where the love of his life now rested. He wowed it in his mind, and then a hand placed on his shoulder squeezed and told him it was time to go. A deep breath, closing his eyes momentarily as a last tear slipped down his cheek, then he turned away and didn’t look back.

Fair dues...A short and sweet return!... ...

Nice - though sad - interlude...

Thanks for the info in the previous post... ...I've been...Not really here meself lately, so I'd missed that...

Wonderful story, glad to see it's still ticking about the place...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

PS...More!!... ...

Thank you, I'm glad you liked it

This next scene doesn't directly involve Sorcalin, but concidering the fact that Elyzara has a rather large impact on his life I figured it'd be best to post it here. Most of the other stuff I write about her will involve him as well.

3E 253, 12th Sun’s Dawn

Consciousness came slowly in the darkness, and though the changes were subtle at first they grew greater as she regained her senses. Her body felt like lead to her mind, but the confining closeness of wood was gone. The roof of her prison, the wooden lid of that infernal box, had been removed, and she put what little energy remained for her to use in order to sit up.

Finally having done so, she drew in a breath and surveyed her surroundings. The place was familiar to her, a crypt more grand than most, for it was the one built by her family during the second era. The Moorhart family crypt, situated only a few kilometers from the estate.

She remembered then, just what had happened before they put her in the casket, and there was a sound of crumpling paper as she curled her hands into fists. Sorcalin and his angry and panicked gaze, the elders raging on about why the laws were created. Then the man who she’d thought loved her, red-eyed now, turning away when they finally proclaimed the sentence and brought her out of the house. 200 years beneath the ground as a punishment for turning someone against their will. Longer because he was so influential, but how could she have known that he was one of the psijic?

The first time in the coffin had been excruciating, lying there for weeks as her body ran out of blood to keep it running. Scorching heat in her throat and being unable to quench the fire. Then finally, blessed oblivion as she entered the long sleep. There had been moments of wakefulness in which she’d pounded on the wooden lid before once again succumbing to the darkness, but she had never been fully awake during them. Now, the thought of 200 years having passed… It was incomprehensible.

A light flickered in the door to the entry hall, and footsteps sounded out to herald the coming of another person. When a man appeared in the doorway, she frowned, for she did not recognise the vampire. Her light-sensitive eyes had no troubles with seeing anything in the darkness, and it was a youthful face that greeted her. Aside from the lack of wrinkles – that only told of the fact that he ate regularly – there was a certain springiness in his steps and curiosity in his eyes that could only ever be found in someone who’d yet to face the many difficulties of life.

Her beloved had moved with a smooth gait, not hurrying nor spending any extra energy, for he had the time to live his life well. He was an elf, and thus blessed with a long life, unless someone robbed him of it prematurely. As she thought of him from her place in the coffin, a surge of anger clouded her gaze, and she imagined for a moment how it would feel to rip out his heart. The thought must have showed on her face, for when she looked at the young man again he was frowning.

“Lady Elyzara Moorhart?” he asked, and she smiled at him as she slowly stepped out of the wooden box. Her body creaked as she did so, her skin crinkling slightly where it was moved the most.

“Yes. And you are?” she asked as she finally managed to maneuver her fragile body out of the coffin, not really caring for the answer. She stepped onto the floor and found she was quite unsteady as she reached her hand out to the young man.

“I am Leon, my lady. I serve your brother,” he said as he took her hand and kissed it in greeting, wisely ignoring the texture of her skin as he straightened up and withdrew a bottle from the folds of his clothing. It caused her gum to itch, and once again the slow fire in her throat was brought to the front of her mind as her teeth began to lengthen slightly. The bottle was tightly sealed, but in her starved state her sensitive senses had no trouble in finding the faint scent.

“And what of my father?” she asked as she accepted the bottle, using her fingers to pull the cork out and then putting the bottle containing the exquisite life juice up to touch her lips. Wisely, the younger vampire waited to talk until she had finished the drink, finally licking her lips to make certain that not a drop was lost, savoring the intoxicating taste.

“He was lost on the field of battle some years ago, milady.” She stilled for a moment, then gave a brief nod – face still unchanged – and began her walk out of the crypt.

“I trust my chambers have been set in order, I’m looking forward to a bath,” she said, and the man nodded as he followed after her.

“Yes, and your brother has asked that you see him in the pavilion once you’re presentable.” She nodded, not truly paying attention as her feet followed the familiar path to her bedchamber. For her thoughts where many miles away, across the border in Cyrodiil, where the cause of her imprisonment was sure to reside. Only one thought held much value for her, the same one that’d kept her sane during her bouts of wakefulness. For there was no greater balm than that of sweet revenge, to once again taste the blood flowing through his veins and to tear that handsome head off his shoulders. Had she the choice, his suffering would be a mirror of hers, to writhe in pain as thirst tore him apart beneath the cold ground, but she was no fool. She knew very well of the power held within him, and so only through subterfuge and the power of surprise would she bring him down. And perhaps the surprise on his face would be enough to make up for the screams. Perhaps, for once, settling for second best would be enough.

Ooooh...As has been evidenced elsewhere, vampires are not my favourite thing about the ES series... ...

However, I thoroughly enjoyed this...*Applauds*...

Proper brilliant writing... ...

Awesome stuff...

Looking forward to much more...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

I've been deliberating for a while on whether or not to post this. It's something small for now, but might maybe/possibly turn into its very own story eventually. A story that stars Sorcalin as the employer and background player, and the five in the scene as the main characters. Initially, anyway. This scene plays out at some point during the fourth era, between the years 30 and 34, which is the time that the corresponding chapter will eventually span.

I've also got a document half written up in which I explain the lifespans of the different races and a bit about how they're affected by their surroundings. It's an annoyance for me because I know I've written it up before, but I can't find the paper for the life of me and I don't remember exactly what I wrote. So yes, it might in some ways be completely at odds with stuff that I've written now, and I'm gonna be really pissed if I do eventually find that paper. Which is kind of why I wish I won't.

But well, I digress. So here follows the scene in which the Misfits becomes known as the Misfits amongst themselves and Sorcalin is generally creepy.

Misfits of Tamriel
4E 30 – 34

Narves and Hlanain were discussing something when they finally entered the room in which Caoilinn, Trip and Lost had all assembled. While Hlanain argued animatedly, Narves listened on with poorly hidden amusement only to loose his brothers attention when Hlanain noticed the presence of their colleagues in the room.

"Don't you think we should have a name?" he asked. Lost snorted in amusement as Caoilinn raised her eyes from their game of chess to meet the dunmers gaze.

"What do you mean, a name?" she asked as Lost moved another of his white pieces.

"Something to call the group. A name for our enemies to fear!" This time it was Trip who snorted whilst Caoilinn merely looked at him pointedly. "Now that I think about it, we should probably have alternate names to call each other as well, just in case any papers that could incriminate us were ever found."

"A group name. What, something like 'Sorcalin's Rogues'?" Trip piped in, and once again Hlanains attention switched focus. Caoilinn shook her head in exasperation as her attention returned to the board and she moved another piece.

"Yes! But something that sounds better and doesn't implicate anyone. Like, the Hounds of the Underworld, or the Avengers of Talos." Caoilinn looked up, staring at the Dunmer with blatant disbelief.

"Misfits of Tamriel," Narves muttered from his spot overlooking the room, not at all seriously, and Hlanain and Caoilinn fell silent in contemplation. Trip only stared at them in silence for a moment before she was unable to hold her tongue any longer.

"Seriously, you're considering that?!"

"It's a fitting name," Hlanain commented as Trip rolled her eyes.

"Too fitting, it'll tell everyone who we are," she said, and the room fell silent as all of them looked at Trip. After a few moments of shock the whole group nodded in agreement, and Trip smiled contentedly before looking down at the chessboard. Her gaze swept across it twice before she tapped Lost on the shoulder. He turned his head in her direction, still angled towards the board but eyes fixed on the young girl. "You can take her queen," Trip said and he turned back to the board as Caoilinn glared at Trip. The girl merely smiled and winked at the older woman, and the Bosmer turned back to the board in time to see Lost grabbing the black queen and tapping the table once to say chess. Caoilinn huffed out a breath of air in frustration, looking over the board with keen eyes to find the best way to get out of the situation.

"Check mate," she suddenly said as she moved her tower to two tiles in front of his king, effectively trapping him now that the knight that had guarded the position had changed place. Lost's eyes widened for a moment in surprise, then both of the players turned their eyes to Trip who was smirking at the both of them.

"Never said you'd win if you took the queen," the young girl quipped before turning on her heel and heading towards the dunmeri brothers.

"Well, Misfits. Everyone's ready, I hope." Trip hadn't gotten very far when Sorcalin came down the stairs. All five of them looked at him in shock at the address, Hlanain even went so far as to gape before he regained the use of his tongue.

"Seriously, how did you know that?" he asked, starring at the Altmer. Sorcalin merely sent him an indulgent smile before continuing down the rest of the way, looking around to make sure that everyone had arrived.

Excellent stuff...Will look forward to this for as and when you do some more.. ...

I do loves a good team type story... ...

Actually, this reminds me of the A-Team when Robert Vaughn was in charge for the last series!...

Oh...

Wait...

You will have no idea what I'm on about... ...Hey-ho...Trust me, this is good... ...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

Thank you, McBadgere I actually have seen a couple of episodes of the A-Team, and I think that show's great. So that's really nice to hear. I'm fairly certain I haven't seen any of the episodes with Robert Vaughn, but I've seen him in Hustle and he's a great actor.

Life Expectancy in Tamriel:

Altmer: Though all mer are capable of living for a thousand years, several thousands sometimes, the Altmer are the ones who most regularly does. Because of their natural inclination towards the arcane arts and their more "civil lives" they're also more inclined towards avoiding disease and are not as badly affected by injuries. Phynaster is also said to have taught the Altmer how to live for another hundred years. It isn't rare to meet someone who's lived for longer than 400. However, as a consequence, they don't have children as often as the other elves.

Dunmer: The Dunmer can live for 1000 years, but because of the living conditions of the Ashlands, the Corprus disease and the constant infighting it's rare that they do, even rarer that they die of natural causes.

Bosmer: Living in the wilderness for the most part, the Bosmer are more susceptible to die of disease or injury than the other elves, though the fact that they stay very active their whole lives and doesn't eat very unhealthy food makes up for it.

Orsimer: Though they don't live as long as the other elves, there's Orsimer who've lived for as long as 400 years. They're mainly a warring people and as such they rarely live to be longer than a hundred.
Imperial, Redguards & Nords: Humans in general do very rarely surpass 100 years. Most doesn't live longer than 60 or 80, shorter if they live a warriors life. Infant fatalities are also fairly high because most people can't afford a healer. The high quality life that many Imperials live however increases their chances of living longer.

Breton: The Bretons are sometimes referred to as Manmeri, and it's reflected in their age. Bretons can live several decades longer than other humans. They're also very proficient with magic and as such are more likely to survive wounds, disease and childbirth which is why they're the one race in Tamriel that most often dies of old age.

Argonian: Because of their increased resistance towards diseases and poisons, and their ability to breathe underwater, the Argonians who stay in their native lands are quite long lived. They can live for several hundred years if they stay in Black Marsh since that's the very specific climate that their bodies have adapted to. Argonians outside Black Marsh rarely live longer than your average human.
Note: Very little information considering Argonian aging is given in the games, so I've taken some liberties with incorporating what i know of actual reptiles. Of course, I have no idea how an actual human sized reptile would even function, but age and well-being for reptiles is very dependent on their environment and what they eat. So I figure something similar with Argonians wouldn't be too farfetched.

Khajiit: The khajiit have never been a long lived people. Though their age depends on which breed they belong to a khajiit rarely lives over 90. With their warring and thieving nature, they rarely die of natural causes. Dying from dehydration or starvation isn't rare either in their homeland, as bandits have a tendency to leave their victims stranded rather than just kill them.

Nicely worked out...Like the way you've figured this...

Nice one!!...

*applauds heartily*...

This scene follows almost directly after the one I posted back in December 2013, in which Elyzara Moorhart came out of the ground after being confined to a wooden box for two centuries. Sorcalin has about as much of a role in the second part as he did in the first, but this isn't just about Sorcalin's life any longer. It's also about the Moorhart siblings and the Glenmoril Coven. This scene is probably the last time Elyzara speaks with her brother before her death, and as complicated as the relationships between these three are I had a lot of fun writing this. However, I'm afraid only one of them will be surviving into the fourth era.

I'm working on two(three) more posts that might be seeing the light of day fairly soon. The first is the story of how exactly Sorcalin became a vampire and why he did not seek out a cure, which I'll probably be splitting into two parts since it seems to be getting quite long. And the second is a more in-depth description of the Glenmoril Coven in my version of the Elder Scrolls universe, as well as the specific abilities of the vampires who belong to the coven.

3E – 253, 12th Sun’s Dawn

Part 2

The sun was standing low in the sky by the time she approached the pavilion which her brother had apparently taken to using as his office. It was closed off from the rest of the building by a heavy wooden door, and in the time she’d been kept under ground no sign had been put up to tell that her brother had taken over the room. Only because Leon had told her did she now know that this was where her twin resided, and that thought stung no matter how she thought of it.

She knocked only twice on the door and did not wait for his call before stepping inside, and though she clearly heard his exasperated sigh at her manners she did not look at him as her gaze took in the old room.

Though the furniture and decorations had changed, the shape and layout of the room had remained largely the same over the last two hundred years. A short path lined by glass walls led out to the circular room that was almost completely encased in transparent glass panels to let in the light but prevent the rays from burning the inhabitants of the room. A couple of low bookshelves were placed by the walls, and a large desk faced the doors with a couple of chairs having been placed in front of it. A cupboard with glass panes in the doors held glasses and a few bottles of wine, and several pots with plants were placed around the room.

Finally, her eyes landed on him, and he was watching her openly with his crimson eyes. Periene had hardly changed in the many years since they’d last seen each other. His clothing was radically different of course, but his face was lined by the same smooth lines and he still held the same stature. He'd cut his red hair shorter since they last met, but his eyes were neither lighter nor darker, and he still made no effort to conceal them unless he had to. Now they watched her with far more wariness than she'd ever expected they could.

He was composed, pragmatic and had little patience for emotional fools. All traits she admired, none that she shared. And for that she loathed them as well. The only thing marking them as anything but polite acquaintances was their blood, as well as the status and physical traits that accompanied it. Though with the passing of two centuries her ambitious brother was certain to have far surpassed her when it came to their respective status within the coven.

“So, our mother's pavilion,” she stated simply as her eyes met his and he raised his eyebrows in a silent question. “I did not expect that it'd ever see much use.”

“Well, after our fathers death there truly wasn't much reason to keep it locked any longer,” he uttered, and Elyzara nodded slowly as she hummed in agreement.

“Indeed, Leon told me of that. He did not tell me of our sisters however, where are they?” she asked. Periene sighed, finally dropping the quill he held in his hand, and rested his elbows on the desk as he leant slightly forward.

“Lysee passed away in 127. She never wanted to become a vampire, and so she stayed human until the end. Morgan, the last time I heard from her some 23 years ago, was in Sentinel. Assuming of course that I remember correctly. I believe she was looking into acquiring some rare old book, she's always liked those after all.” Elyzara's lips pursed as she sunk down into one of the chairs in front of the desk, her eyes narrowing into a glare as they looked at each other.

“Lysee died of old age. You did not make her a vampire?” she asked angrily, her fury only increasing as her brother continued to watch her impassively.

“She did not wish to share our existence, and neither I nor Morgan were inclined to force the matter,” he said with a shrug, as if though that was all there was to it. But Elyzara was not so easy to appease.

“Morgan I can understand, she has always coddled our youngest sister. But you... I expected more from you,” Elyzara growled through gritted teeth as her brothers expression grew harder and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

“I would never perform such heinous an act as turning someone against their will, sister. We have our rules for a reason, and I've no intention of breaking them. You'd do well to follow them from here on out if you wish to stay out of that box.” Elyzara let out a startled laugh at his words, her lips forming a grimace as she rose from the chair abruptly to lean in over the desk.

“You would put me back there?! Your twin? Is this your way of telling me to stay away from Sorcalin, or else..?” she growled out.

“You may have been a vampire longer than him, but he's still older. And he hasn't spent the last two centuries in a wooden box. He would see you coming, and the coven would not only loose an asset, I would loose a sister. I will not let more of my family die,” Periene said, finally raising his voice in the first expression of anger he'd expressed for a very long time. But not even in the face of his anger did she falter.

“You think so little of me..? Is that it? Well I hardly need your blessing to shed blood, brother,” she spat out, not giving him any opportunity to speak as she pushed herself away from the desk and headed for the door. He considered stopping her, but gave it up as a useless endeavour as he settled back in his chair and she left through the door in a rage.

Periene found himself watching the door for a whole minute after his sister had once again passed through it, then he rolled his eyes to give voice to his frustration as he turned his eyes from the door to the small hand-held mirror lying upon his desk. He was already calling on the spell when his hand touched the silver frame, hushed words slipping from his lips without hesitation as the surface of the mirror grew murky. A couple of minutes passed while he sat waiting, until finally the reflective surface cleared and showed not his own face but instead a stone roof and a glimpse of bookshelves along the edges. The only sign of his discontent was the downward twitch of his lips as he had to wait yet another couple of minutes before a female face appeared above the mirror, looking down into it curiously. He noted the cropped brown hair and the smudge of ink upon her cheek with silent displeasure as her brows rose in surprise at the sight of him.

“You've cut your hair.” It occurred to Periene that it was not the best greeting he could have offered her, but he knew just as well that no amount of pretty words would enamour her to him. An annoyed expression came upon her face at the comment before turning into a faintly visible sneer as she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Indeed, I did it myself. Do you like it?” she asked mockingly, being more than aware of his views on the matter. Though he felt the slow burn of the anger only his youngest sister could call forth, he did his best to ignore it in light of the favour he wished to ask of her.

“Cropping ones hair is not...” He hardly had time to get started before she interrupted him.

“...Is not fitting for a lady of the Moorhart family, nor for a vampire of the Glenmoril coven. Did I forget any part of the lecture, or is there anything more you need to remind me of?” He pursed his lips, but refrained from answering. “Now, why did you call me brother? Is it 253 already?”

“You forgot what year it is?” he asked in disbelief, his brows furrowing as he looked at her. She visibly gritted her teeth, huffing out a breath as the view changed angle as she picked up her mirror and sat down in a chair.

“I've more important things to think about. What is a year here or there when you've got an eternity to look forward too? I assume however that you're contacting me to discuss Zara. Her sentence was settled at 200 years, was it not?” The brunette let go of her annoyance quickly, her face taking on the same neutral expression that tended to occupy his face most of the time.

“Indeed it was. And I just finished a pleasant conversation during which she could think of little else but the murder of her former beloved.” Periene found himself rolling his eyes as he lifted his mirror further and leaned back slightly in his chair, making sure that the mirror still captured his face.

“That sounds like Zara. What I don't understand is why you are coming to me.” Her voice hardly changed, her lips forming a slight genuine smile for barely a moment before the political expression was back.

“You were always able to rein her in, in the past. I believe the coven will require your aid in doing so once again,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders, and had to fight to keep his annoyance hidden when she rolled her eyes.

“And what makes you think I would wish to help the coven?” she asked with a sigh.

“You and I may not get along, sister, but we are still family. The coven is family.” Periene was once again reminded of why it'd been 23 years since they last spoke as he raised his hand to rub at his forehead in an attempt to stave of the inevitable head ache he'd come to associate with family. He looked back at the mirror just in time to notice the tight set of her jaw and the hateful glare in her eyes before she spoke once again.

“Then tell me brother, how many witches have the coven lost in last ten years? How many hagravens have been born? How many vampires of the Wyrd have succumbed to their blood lust and gone feral?” she practically growled out, and for a moment he almost expected her to bare her fangs at him.

“Morgan...” he began in exasperation, but she shook her head abruptly to stop him as his eyes lingered on the growing moisture in her eyes.

“Save your petty excuses, brother. I will tell Sorcalin she's coming for him. But I'll be doing it for him, not for the coven,” she ground out through her teeth and Periene nodded, content to take whatever small victory he'd ever be allowed to have by his younger sister.

“Very well. I'm certain that the elders will be grateful. I only wish you would not distrust us so,” he said, already thinking on the letters he'd have to send before the days end to tell the elders of what had transpired.

“Whatever trust I ever had for the coven disappeared a century ago, you know that.” When he once again turned his eyes to meet hers, neither the anger in her eyes nor the sorrow in his was concealed. He nodded once, not having anything else to say on the matter. The anger dissipated from her eyes quickly to be replaced by sadness. “Well brother. As I assume that was all you wished to speak of, I'll be going. Do take care of yourself.” She didn't give him any time to speak before the image disappeared and he found himself staring down at his own face.

“And you as well, sister,” he uttered quietly into the empty room, hand reaching out to put the mirror back down onto the desk. Then his elbows came to rest upon the wooden surface as he rested his head in his hands in a rare moment of weakness before once again schooling his expression and turning back to the many documents before him.