"RUN! He's done it again!" a voice cried out in the Arcane University of the Imperial City, many apprentices immediately running to the closest place they could take shelter from projectiles and odd creatures that would love to tear through there flesh.

"Everyone, take cover! Find some shelter! He's gone and pulled another one!" the voice cried out again, though the words unnecessary, for all new to well what who 'he' was, and what he has 'done again'.

In the dorm rooms of the apprentices, a young Breton that seemed the age of twenty one stood on top a bed, a scamp hissing at him.

"Uh... uh.." the Breton said timidly, green robes visible. "Disa.. Disappearo!" he made a few hand motions, expecting the scamp to vanish. The only result from that was the Scamp jumping back and flinging a fireball at the Breton.

"AHH!" he ducked, the fireball hitting the wall behind him. A bosmer could be seen in a corner, reading out of a spell book. "Thats not even a spell, Alasar!"

"Well how was I supposed to know?" the Breton replied, the scamp gazing at him, mischief in its eyes.

"The same way you knew how to summon this damned thing in here!"

"I told you! I just read from one of the teacher's scrolls!"

"WHY?" the Bosmer shouted in annoyance. The scamp turned its eyes to him, a devilish grin coming to its lips. "Oh no... no no no!" the Bosmer said, dropping the book and grabbing the nearest blunt object he could.. which turned out to be yet, another, more skinnier book. The scamp let out a cackle before running at the Bosmer!

Alasar raises his hands, sending out a very minor fireball spell, which probably did more damage then good as it hit another bed!

The bosmer closed his eyes, preparing for the worst when suddenly the door to the dorms opened, a blinding light emitting from it! The scamp let out a loud, shrill cry, running around blindly into many objects. The sound of glass breaking, shelves falling, and maybe a bed breaking apart could be heard!

And then, the sound of a body collapsing. The light disappeared, Alasar and his Bosmer friend temporary blinded by it for a moment. Three blurry shapes stepped into there line of view, one seeming a bit blue on the bottom, but more white on the top. The other two looked like giant walking pieces of cellury.

"Alasar," the blue colored figure said, his futures now becoming visible. A very frail, old face, with blue robes. "you, are in, SO MUCH TROUBLE!"

The phrase, curiosity killed the cat, would probably be one that suited Alasar well. The mage, all though twenty one years old, was fairly childish for his curiosity was always getting him in trouble, and always endangering the lives of others. In this case, a more proper phrase would of been "Curiosity caused the cat to get everyone around it killed."

The Breton didn't have much of a pass, other then his imperial father drowning one day, and his Breton mother hanging her self another when he was fairly young. A wizard adopted him, and took him to the Imperial City. His adopted father worked hard to give the boy the best care he could, even getting him into the Arcane University. Sadly, Alasar showed very little gratitude. The only thing his father got in return, were many fines to pay, and many excuses to create.

The Father, Marison Lightfoot, patience was running out...


Chapter I, How it Begins


"Endangering the lives of many, STEALING my scrolls, summoning a scamp without approval, damaging of property. Your son really needs to learn some discipline, Marison!" the voice of the arch mage could be heard shouting in the room near where Alasar sat at.

"Yes sir, I am sorry. I have tried to teach him responsibility for a long time, but he just wont get the picture."

"And so you let everything go unpunished! In the past two months, he has caused a fire in the Alchemy Labs, burnt through six pairs of robes, killed two test animals, and now this!"

"Sir, I am sorry once again.. I just dont know what to do."

"Well... there is something I know we can do. Would make sure he never repeated these mistakes again."

"And... what would that be sir..."


***

Later that day, Alasar and Marison sat at the dinner table, eating silently. There house was nothing more then a small cabin on the Waterfront district. Marison preferred it this way. More quiet, more relaxed.

"Alasar... " the wizard finally said, "You really need to learn how to control yourself."

"Yes, father..."

"You could of gotten somone killed today!"

"Its the archmage's fault for leaving his scrolls lying about! How did they even get out of his tower?"

"You choose to summon the scamp though."

"I didn't know that would happen!"

"But still, it did. You need to learn some damn discipline, self control, and responsibility! Im not going to always be there to protect you!"

"Dad..."

"NO Alasar! This is the last sta-" a knock could be heard at the door suddenly. Marison looked at Alasar, "Stay here.." he said, getting up and going to answer it.

Alasar could heard some murmurs, "He is here?" was one of them, "Right this way..." was another. Marison stepped back in, followed by two imperials in.. guard armor?

"Son," one said, pulling out manacles, "you have no idea just how much trouble you are in."

"Wha-" Alasar said for a moment, looking to his dad for guidance. The wizard just shook his head, the guards walking toward Alasar.

"Dad.. what's going on!"

"You are under arrest for destruction of property, endangering lives, and taking what is not yours." the guard that spoke before said, Alasar about to run. The guard grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and slammed his chest against the wall. The other pulled Alasar's arms back, letting his partner set the manacles on them.

"When will he be released?" Marison said quietly as the guards began to leave.

"Probably about a month or so. You will see change, believe me." the guard said before leaving.

"Released?" Alasar said, "Released from where?"

"Have you not found out yet? You truly are dumb as they say you are!"

Alasar blinked, then slowly the answer he knew to the question, but did not want to accept finally dawned upon him. They were taking him to the jail.

This is what I have so far. Please do provide CONSTRUCTIVE criticism, and no other kind. Im looking for things that can help me make this better, not things that will make me want to stop coming to this forum XD ))

First of all: an excellent start. You told tons in that single sentence:
"RUN! He's done it again!"
I know there is a catastrophy on the way and I know someone causes trouble often.

"Disa.. Disappearo!"
I actually found that hilarious. Like Jack Sparrow shooing the stone crab in Pirates 3.

Perhaps the two friends are talking a little bit too much, considering they are in danger. When one is scared stiff, they don't go chatting about. I know the dialogue is a means to
input information about the scene but perhaps some shorter sentences would be better. Or if that dialogue should happen afterwards while waiting for the Arch-Mage to scold them or something.

One thing bothered me: the number of exclamation marks. You use a third-person POV so using an emotional pitch seems a bit off. When using a third person POV, you tend to describe things from a distance. If you want to use emotion, use a first person POV. Or I'm just not ready for new things. If it works for you, use it.

Maybe it's just me but I find a month of jail a very harsh punishment for a troubling mage student. A week would be better. Also, you don't learn discipline in jail. A bully, someone who destroys thing intentionally, would be sent in jail.

If you will continue this fanfic by doing the main quest, this is a refreshing change. I can already see how this juvenile mage will find himself in the thick of the battle, forcing him to grow up and become this formidable sorcerer. Just please don't make him uber overnight.
For comparison: Sam Tarly from A Song of Ice and Fire ever remains a coward yet has performed feats not many could. Your character could remain a trouble maker, only he projects trouble to his advantage.

Very good work. I am impressed.

Thanks ^^. And dont worry about him becoming uber. I am considering making this a three parter. Good to know that people enjoy it. ))

indeed, it is a nice piece of realism in a sadly melo-dramatic and over the top fan-fic infested forum. normal people in unusual situations is what good writing is.

Alasar was taken to the jail and checked in by a rather fat looking guard. He was then put in a cell, another inmate inside, looking to be a little younger. It appeared to be a Dunmer from the eastern lands by the look. The Dunmer just looked up at Alasar before going back to drawing in the sand.

For days, Alasar was kept in the cell, going by a routine of sleep, wake up, eat, sleep, eat, and repeat. The Breton found it a very extremely dull existence, and on the sixth day, his patience finally ended.

***

The sound of birds chirping could be heard from the barred window at the top of his cell, the Breton waking up to the morning air. He quietly got to his feet, creeping to his cell door and pressing his hands against it. "Open.." he muttered, it not doing so. "Uh... unlocksor!" again, nothing.

"Keyzersose!" he whispered, the bars seeming to be mocking him with a iron toothed grin.

"You have no idea how to cast a single spell. Stop trying." a cracky voice said, the Breton turning to see the Dunmer looking at him. For the first time in the six days he had been in the cell, Alasar took notice of the Dunmer's futures. It's skin seemed far more darker then most, and it had a tattoo of a hand on its face. It's eyes glowed fairly red.

Alasar let out a scowl, turning and muttering more incantations.

"Do you even know how others cast magic?" his Dunmer said behind him, tapping its knuckles against the stone wall.

"Yeh! They read out of a spell book, right."

"No, n'wah. They focus energy from the mind, use magicka, somtimes reach out into other realms, and much more. You are not going to learn just by saying random nonsense!"

"Well, lets see you do it!" Alasar said with aggravation, the Dunmer looking up at him.

"Do you really want me to? The guards will be all over us."

"Like you could."

The Dunmer slowly stood, white hair of a elder now visible on his face. "Never, doubt the power of a Telvanni Battle-wizard." he said, walking to the cell door and pushing Alasar out of the way.

"Your bluffing..." the Breton muttered, the Dunmer closing his eyes and not replying... then his hands began to freeze over, icy steam rising. He opened his eyes and roared, smashing his fist into one of the bars! The entire door shattered, pieces of the wall it was connected to flying forward into the opposite wall.

Alasar's eyes widen in pure amazement, the Breton never seeing such a magnificent work of power from the archmage.

"How... wha..."

"Never. Doubt. A Telvanni." the Dunmer said before walking back to his spot in the cell.

"Why havent you escaped long ago!"

"I like it here, its usually quiet, and usually alone. Now, are you going to go?" the Dunmer said quietly as it set itself in a meditating position, Alasar saying no other word and beginning to dash down the hall! He could see a exit, so close, just one more turn and he would be there! He turned!

And found a iron plated fist into his stomach, followed by him being thrown to the ground.

"I see good old Merithias decided he had enough jabbering." the voice of a imperial guard said as it set it's boot on the groaning Alasar's back. "He wont have to worry about that anymore. Turns out a very important figure wants you transported out of here."

Alasar's thoughts began to soar. Who would be important enough to get him out of jail? The archmage? It had to be. Perhaps he forgave Alasar, for the first time in history. The Breton could feel himself being lifted up, and then cuffed again. Well then, Alasar thought to himself, I guess they still consider be dangerous.

"Let go of me! I can really hurt yo-" the guard grabbed Alasar by the ear and began walking, pulling the prisoner with him.

"Yeh, yeh. I have heard it before." he said as they entered and exited the office, walking down the steps. A carriage could be seen, four royal guards and a cowled figure with a red necklace wrapped around his neck visible.

"This the one you wanted?" the guard grabbing Alasar's ear could be heard saying, the cowled figure nodding. One of the other four guards opened the door to the carriage, Alasar being pushed in. There were no windows at all.

"Where are we taking him?" the Breton heard a voice say outside.

"Talos Harbor. Try to get there before the week ends."

"But thats all the way at the shores of Morrowind! How can I make the trip?"

"A very powerful man says there is a big reward for you. Go now, with all haste."

Not another word was spoken. The door to Alasar's right opened, the four guards he saw guarding the carriage entering silently, the last one closing the door. He could then hear hooves clacking against the ground.

Alasar didn't know where he was going, but one thing was certain to his immature mind... he was definitely not going to see anyone he knew for a long time.



End of Chapter I

I'd refrain from using caps if I were you. If you want something to stand out, italicize it. And even then, don't overdo it or it'll simply be annoying, just as the caps are right now.

Will do. ))


((I have edited the post, so that we all arent getting headaches XD ))

Chapter Two: A long Journey to... where?

Hours passed, Alasar not sleeping through any of them. The smell of the grassland was slowly fading, Alasar beginning to smell salt in the air. He had been in the town of Anvil once, the salty ocean air. This, was very similar. Suddenly, the carriage came to a stop.

The door opened, a imperial guard wearing a rusty looking raiment staring at him. "Is he the one?" it said to one of the four imperial city guards, them nodding. He grabbed Alasar by the collar and dragged him out of the carriage. Alasar looked about, seeing many stone walls around him, and ships being loader with soldiers, materials and... and prisoners? Slowly, realization sank in Alasar.

This was not him becoming free... this was him being transported. They had no intentions of freeing him! No, they were going to take him to some place far away! Why else the secrecy? Why else the guards? And why, the ships? It was then Alasar noticed that there seemed to be more people like his companion back at the cell in the Imperial City. Gray skinned, red eyed. And those red eyes, oh yes they glared at him and his captors with much dislike.

"Where... where are we?" Alasar said, but then felt himself being pushed. The four guards were marching right behind him, forcing him to move forward on the wharf.

"Ask no questions, scum." the guard that pulled him from the carriage said as they moved, turning Alasar to a rather small looking ship. A red guard could be seen on the deck, looking at the newcomer.

"Is he the last cargo?" the Redguard called out, one of the guards nodding in reply. They pushed Alasar onto the ship, blocking the exit with there bodies.

"Alright then..." the Redguard said, eying Alasar up and down with a small frown on his face. Then with a nod, the Redguard pointed toward a hatch door.

"Get down there, and do not come up until someone says otherwise." the Redguard said aggressively, Alasar looking at him.

"Look, I don't know who you think I am, but I am not that person! Im just a twenty one year old!"

"And im just a Red-guard who gets payed fifty septims a hour! GET IN THERE!" he said, Alasar entering immediately as he was definitely not wanting to test just how far the Red-Guard's patience would last.



As he entered, a few hammaocks could be seen hanging from some wooden pillars. A imperial walked up to Alasar, wearing some sort of raiment. He looked the Breton over with a scowl on his face.

"You wont last long. Get down those damn stairs, and get to the last cabin you see. It will be straight in front of you. Can you manage to not screw that part of your life up?"

Alasar glared back, not saying a word.

"Well? Get moving! Or, do you have somthing to say to me?"

"No."

"Really? Are you sure? Come on, let it out!" the guard said, pushing Alasar toward the small stairway. The Breton did not reply, but instead headed down and to the cabin he was assigned.

Inside was a dark elf, much like the one that Alasar saw in his cell, and a orc. The dark elf seemed to be humming to himself quietly on his hammock, while the orc glared at Alasar as he walked in.

"Who is this stupid white guy?" the orc said with a snarl, the Dunmer opening its eyes and casting a glare at him while Alasar looked back in slight astonishment. He could already begin to see why the orc was in there.

The Dunmer shook its heard, "Don't mind Gor-rash there. He is not the smartest of his kind, believe me."

Alasar turned to the Dunmer, surprised at the friendliness he seemed to offer.

"Name's Jiub. What about you?"

Alasar hesitated a moment, but then assumed he could trust the Dunmer.

"My name is Alasar."

"Nice to meet you." Jiub said, extending a hand to Alasar. The Breton slowly grasped it, shaking it lightly.

"So.." Jiub said in a more quiet tone, "what did they bring you on the ship for?"

"Im not sure. I was just a mage in training, who screwed up every now and then. I got put in jail to be taught a lesson on responsibility, then the pigs of Imperial Guards come and set me in a carriage."

"Mage? Your hands do not have the feel of one."

"Yeh, well I never really did study well." Alasar said, beggining to realize a few facts about himself.

How did he ever think that he would be a mage of sorts? Never in his life had he cast a spell that went as intended, unless he wanted to be yelled at. He began to realize that he did not even undertake any trial to become apart of the university. Marison only managed to get him there, in hopes of raising a wizard son.

"Alasar?" Jiub said with a little concern, Alasar coming back to his sences.

"Huh, oh yeh."

"You ok? Kind of blanked out on your face there."

"Just.. thinking. What are you in here for?"

Jiub shrugged, sitting on his hammock. "I was apart of a family of Abolitionist."

"Of what?"

Jiub blinked, looking up at Alasar as if he was insane.

"People who free slaves? Big enemies of the Cammona Tong!"

"What are..."

"You have a lot to learn, don't you?" Jiub said, Alasar giving him a small nod.

Later that night, Alasar slept with rather disturbing images in his head. Some were of many buildings in the water, others of giant plant-like towers that reached the heavens.

He dreamt of rusty stone buildings, of mutated beings and soaring creatures. The Breton found himself standing in a chamber, much hard stone around him, and a massive statue looming overhead. In the middle of that statue, three figures stood, one on a bridge, one lying down, and another plunging a blade into some item.

The figure with the blade then lifted up what appeared to be a small hammer and stepped toward the edge. Alasar could see lava bubbling below as if a stove was ready to cook the next meal. The statue began to shake, the figure holding the items toward the edge.

"Drop them!" a female voice emitted from the figure on the bridge, the item holder seeming to be gazing at the two weapons. "Destroy them now!"

The statue continued to shake, bits of it beginning to fall off. The third figure on the ground slowly began to rise, a large golden mask visible on its gray body. A deep voice emitted from it.

"You.. you ruined everything! You destroyed my power! Those weapons are right fully MINE!" the figure shouted, leaping at the item holder and tackling him off the ledge, the masked figure falling toward the lava with the two weapons and what appeared to be a glove falling with him.


***

Alasar awoke with a gasp, the creaks of the ship telling him that it was just a dream.

"Bout time you woke up." a familiar voice could be heard, Alasar looking in it's direction to see Jiub looking at him with concern. "Looks like you had a bad dream. Very bad dream."

"Yeh..." Alasar replied, slowly lifting himself from the hammock with a groan. "How long was I asleep?" he asked with curiosity.

"I would have to say a good few hours, sweating a lot to." Jiub replied, pulling out some bread from a nearby crate. "Saved you some food."

"Thanks." Alasar replied, beginning to catch some strange scent in the air. He took the bread with a nod. "Do you smell that?"

Jiub blinked "Smell wha-" then his eyes widened a little in slight memory, "Oh, the smell? You will get used to it."

"What is it?" Alasar replied, taking a bite out of the bread.

"Smells like swamp salt. We must be near land, I reckon. Perhaps Black Marsh... "

Alasar's eyes widened. Blackmarsh? He had heard of the strange land of the lizard race, Argonians. It was there that the mythical Hist Sap was grown. He had heard of many tribal wars there as well, which made Alasar worry.

"Oh no. You don't think they are going to have us join in tribe wars, do you?"


"Tribe Wars? I doubt it. If they wanted us dead, they could of just executed us a long time ago. No my friend.. I hear whispers from the guards sometimes. They say things like... 'Why are we transporting these three loons?' 'The orc im not sure of, but the two others I hear have some dumb destiny or crap. Hey, what Lord Uriel says is what is right.' 'sure'."

Alasar shook his head, "Great. So unless I am a orc, I guess we are going to save the world or something?"

"Bah. Probably just superstition. I was just a herder back in Morrowind who did not pay the land taxes. I doubt that I will have any use to some prophecy." Jiub said, pulling out a book he must of hidden at some point.

"Unless you shall herd one of the most annoying creatures in the world, and be known as Saint Jiub!" Alasar said with a smirk, Jiub letting out a chuckle.

"And what about you, Alasar? Are you going to be come.. Alasario, the perfecto Sorcerer?"

Alasar returned the chuckle, before leaning back in his hamock.

"Actually.." he said quietly, letting out a long sigh, "I have been thinking about what you said yesterday. About me not having the hands of a spell caster or something."

"Hmm? Where are you getting at?"

"I don't know. I guess all I need is practice, which is something those stupid mages at the university don't help with."

"Eh?"

"You know, maybe if they helped me out instead of yelling at me, I would not be on this stupid boat! I mean really, I can become a great sorcerer!"

"Now Alasar, dont get all overconfident."

"Why not? Is confidence not a good thing?"

"It is when it is required. Stupidity on the other hand... I can see how you got in jail." Jiub said wisely, gazing with piercing eyes at Alasar.

The Breton lifted himself from the hammock, gazing back at Jiub.
"What do you know of it? I can probably take these guard's out right now! You know what!"

Alasar rolled to the floor, pushing himself up and grabbing the nearest blunt object he could, which was nothing more then a wooden plank that had been left there perhaps during construction. He stomped out of the cabin, toward the top!

The imperial guard that escorted him down saw him, hand going to his blade.

"Stop right there, prisoner!"

"MAKE ME!" Alasar swung at the guard's head, only to be stopped with a grab to the wrist. The last thing he saw, was a fist heading to his jaw. And then... all went black.

Is anyone still reading this, or am I posting to the ghost of Elder Scrolls Past? ))

No, you're not wasting your time. You must have had a lot of fun writing this. :tops:

I am enjoying it, keep it up the story is fun to read

Will do Marshall's! Btw Remko, I like your signature about the pub. ))

Chapter III: Far from Home


Alasar slept the entire day and night through, having many memories flash through his head of old times when he was young. He would sometimes find himself in a forest, walking with Marrison and discussing random things.

"What is the Dark Brotherhood? Some kind of lute band?"

"No. They are bad people that you do not want to ever be with."

"Why, daddy?"

"They are assassins. You will learn some day, when you become much more mature."

Yes, the Breton had the age of a advlt, but not the maturity. He now understood what they were, but what threat could they pose, truly?

More dreams passed, coming closer to his present time. The jail cell, the strange elf, the carriage, the ship, Jiub, the attempt to fight out, and then... and then there was a long period of darkness that seemed to last for hours to the Breton.



Wind could be heard in the distance, a barren landscape before the Breton's moving eyes. Something that looked much like vampire dust the Breton saw alchemist worked with came into view, in a good amount and all around him. He could see looming high above him, a giant dark mountain not covered in snow, but more of the substance that was blowing around him.

"They have taken you from home." a female voice said to the Breton, the speaker unseen, yet her voice somewhat calming, "First by carriage, now by boat, to the east... to Morrowind."

Thunder could be heard, followed by raindrops.

"Wake up. Why are you shaking? WAKE UP!" a familiar voice said to Alasar.

And then...


***

... he awoke.

"There you go. Stand up, you were having a dream, Alasar." the voice of Jiub said as Alasar opened his eyes, groaning and pushing himself up. He could feel the ship no longer moving as much as it had been.

"Why aren't we moving?"

"I heard them say we reached Morrowind. Im sure they will let us go."

Alasar nodded, about to say something else when foot steps could be heard.

"Quiet." Jiub advised, "Here comes the guard."

Alasar looked out of the entry room to see the same Imperial Guard that knocked him out and escorted him to his room walking toward them.

"We have docked. Come with me." the guard said with a scowl, gazing at what seemed to be Alasar's forehead before beginning to walk away. Alasar rubbed his head a little and felt some pain. A bruise on his forehead... just what he needed. He followed the guard to the top quarters where a Nord woman could be seen standing near a table.

"Get yourself on deck, and lets keep this as simple as possible, scum." the guard said with a scowl, Alasar looking up to see the hatch door he entered from in.. what was it, a week now? He climbed up, pushing the hatch door open.


And immediately found three of his senses being assaulted. His eyes were assaulted, partly by the first thing of sunlight he had seen in a week but not just that. Around him, was a completely foreign landscape. He could see tree's, or at least what he thought were tree's; for they were more dark in color and had no leaves, other then the long strips on the top.

The water did not seem as clean as it did in Cyrodil, when he last saw it. It had a green hint to it. And to his left, he could see a town that reminded him some what of a farm. A few shacks could be seen, along with a burning lighthouse. Other then that, houses made of brick and straw were visible, along with a few other buildings.

His sense of smell was assaulted by sea salt, and what seemed to be dead fish. And was that.. did he smell mud?

He could hear creaking all around him, the sea's waves seeming to not be moving much against the land as it was farther out toward the ocean. He pulled himself up, the redguard from earlier visible.

"This is where they want you. Head down to the dock and talk to the guard waiting for you."

Not saying a word, Alasar did so as he held his breath; for the scent was awful.

He walked across a wooden plank, to what appeared to be a Imperial Guard. His armor was nothing like that of the ones in Cyrodil however. A black, blue chain mail raiment was visible on his chest, along with some strange form of steel pants. His helmet was more round, black in the main color with a yellow trim.

"You finally arrived, but our records don't show from where." the guard said enthusiastically , looking Alasar over carefully. The Breton raised a brow curiously. If the imperials were this dumb, how hard would it be to just walk home? Nothing could be stopping him, unless they had some sort of tracking spell on him.

"Where?" he said, deciding he would have some fun.

"Your home."

"I live in a shack."

"No, your home province." the guard said less enthusiastically, sounding like he had been worn out greatly.

The Breton suddenly felt a small sense of pity for him. This guard was not like the others, who chose to play with there prisoners and mess with others. This guard was a person who sounded like he was trying to make a decent wage for his family.

"Im sorry. I come from Cyrodil, though I am a Breton. Imperial City, if you must know."

The guard nodded, "Great. Im sure you'll fit right in." he said with a smile. Follow me to the Census and Excise office and they will finish your release." Alasar did so, them coming toward a building that had a windmill-like roof.

"Go on in." the guard said with a small smile, Alasar nodding before doing so.

As he walked in, another guard standing at a door could be seen, along with a older looking Breton. The room was brightly lit with lanterns and candles, a wooden desk holding many papers visible, along with a Lime wire Platter and many items on a book shelf. Some banners could be seen of wizards and what Alasar assumed to be a ranger.

"Ahh yes!" the old Breton in front of him squeaked with delight, "we've been expecting you. You'll have to be recorded before you are officially released. There are a few ways we can do this and the choice, is, yours."

Alasar sighed, before the words finally hit him. Officially released. He looked up.

"What is the fastest way we can do this?"

"Well, you can always tell me the kinds of things you are pretty good at."

Alasar spoke with great haste, "I am a good alchemist, and a-" he stopped there, about to say the word mage. Come to think of it, did he ever truly want to be a mage? Did he ever even care for the magic?

"I like to create potions, but other then that I have very few skills. You can say I have some skill in short swords I guess, preferably cutlasses, but thats only out of wooden swords."

"Hmm... what would you specify yourself as?"

"Why does this matter?" Alasar said impatiently, the guard passing him a glare.

"Watch your mouth kid." he said, Alasar giving him a scowl.

"We need something to specify you as, in case anyone reads your records." the Breton said, still sounding as happy as usual. Alasar hated people who never got the hint.

"Just specify me as a Person."

"This will be permanent you know..."

"Fine fine! Specify me as..." Alasar thought a moment, "Specify me as Traveller." he said, a sudden idea having come to his mind. He was away. Away from the Arcane University, away from Marrison and the Arch-Mage. He only knew he was somewhere in Morrowind, which was no problem. He would get directions to a carriage, take it near some town in Cyrodil, stock up on supplies, and walla! He would be on his own adventure!

"Yes. Specificy me as a Traveller." Alasar said with a smile, the Breton seeming be writing things on a scroll.

"Very good. Now the letter that preceded, your guardian mentioned you were born under a certain sign. And what would that be?"

Crap. Marrison was born under the mage, but what was Alasar born under? How could he forget the one other thing besides life that was given to him by birth.

"Alasar? We are waiting." the Breton said, Alasar still thinking. Then it came to him.

"The Warrior. I was born under the warrior."

The Breton nodded, writing it down. He muttered something that sounded like 'Very weird for a mage..." before looking up, "Very good! Look this over to see this is all correct." the Breton said as he handed Alasar the scroll.

Name, skills, any factions he once belonged to in Cyrodil, sign, and the word Traveller was visible. Perfect.

"All good." Alasar said, the Breton clapping his hands lightly.

"Very well then. Take these papers to the Captain and you will be free to go." the Breton said, Alasar nodding and walking to the door, which the guard could be seen unlocking.

"Continue through to the next building and talk to Sallus Gravvius." the guard said, rather commanding as he opened the door. Alasar nodded, walking down the hall and turning into a room with many more items all around... and then realized. He had no money. None at all! How was he going to do anything if he did not have at least two drakes. He eyed the many items on the table and shelves, then turned to the open doorway.

All though the 'mage' was not the smartest of them all, he knew all to well how stupid it would be to walk around looking for something to store all the items in. No need to get back in jail before he was even officially out. He sighed, then walked back into the room with the guard and old Breton.

"Hey, uh guys, have you seen my lucky amulet? Did I drop it in here?"

"All items were taken from you when you were imprisoned, moron." the guard said, scowling at Alasar with hate filled eyes.

"My bad!" Alasar said, grabbing the door knob and pulling the door shut as he re-entered the room with all the mo- items.

"Stupid moron.." he could hear the guard say from behind the door.

Now then, the Breton thought to himself, where to store it all? He looked down some stairs and saw another door. Walking down, he opened the door to find himself in a wine cellar, with indeed buckets and bags. He opened one, a good amount of herbs visible. Excellent to brush up on his alchemy skills.

Looking through other bags, he found similar herbs and poured them into the one he had chosen. He looked at the barrels, then decided why not?

Walking out of the cellar and back into the room, he began brushing the many items off the table and into his bag. Baskets, bread, papers, hell even the candle sticks. He took everything, with the exception of a knife stabbed onto a note.

He pulled the knife out, looking it over. Not the sharpest, but could still kill. He read the note.

Don't forget our little wager. I want this knife as sharp as a Nix-Hound's fangs by the morning
-Hrisskar Flat-foot.

Shrugging, Alasar threw the note to the side and set the knife in his pocket. He then spotted a metal box while grabbing plates from one of the shelves. Trying to pull it open, he realized it was locked. Setting a hand on it, he muttered.

"Unlocko..."

Idiot, he thought to himself, that did not work the first time! Your not even a mage! You were born under the sign of the warrior you dolt.

He sighed, about to leave when by chance or coincidence, a item fell from his bag. He picked it up in his fingers, recognizing it as a lock pick from the days when he and his Bosmer friend, Yeraldres, would go breaking into abandoned shacks and placing herbs on hobo's noses. Good days.

He looked at the box before going to work on it with the lock pick. After a minute or so, a click could be heard. Alasar pulled the box open and saw sitting there, a small pouch with a even smaller rope tied around the top. He picked it up, hearing a jingle. Money!

"Perfect." he said before trying to put it in his pocket. It was then he realized, his pants had no pockets. He sighed, looking down for a moment to think. His eyes caught his shoes.

"Will do." he said to himself, setting the bag of stolen items down and pulling off his left shoe. He slid the money sack in there, his foot following. Picking up his bag, he looked about before leaving the room and stepping into a small looking courtyard, a wall blocking his exit.

Dammit, he thought ho himself, how the hell am I going to get this past this Gravvius guy?

He spotted a water barrel, and with a shrug opened it and set the sack in there before closing it. He turned the knob, a more armored Imperial standing there.

"Your papers, please." he said coldly, Alasar handing him the scrolls from the collar of his shirt.

"... Looks good." Sallus said, setting them on a desk. Yes! Alasar was free at last! "Now then, dont think your free yet." Alasar's heart fell. The words he did not want to hear, having been said. "You need to make a delivery, to Balmora. Caus Cauisades is his name." the guard pulled out a sealed package and handed it to Alasar, the Breton regretfully taking it.

"Fine. But then I am leaving home."

"You will do as Caus says. You are in great debt to the empire, and the emperor. We do NOT deal with traitors, lightly." Gravvus said coldly, Alasar nodding.

"Can I get a bag to carry this box in?" he said, hoping it would work.

"Bah, weakling. I would not give you one under normal circumstances, but no doubt you will need something to keep you company. Go get one in the cellar. Oh, and here is eighty-seven septims. Dont go spending it in one place." Gravvus said as he handed Alasar a larger bag of money, the Breton taking it eagerly. This was the biggest amount of money anyone had ever gave him!

"Guess I will go get that bag." Alasar said, leaving the room the way he came. He approached the barrel that he set the sack in, pulling off the lid once more and pulling the sack out and opening it. He set the items in his hand into the sack, closing it and swinging it over his shoulder. He was about to leave when he spotted something shining at the bottom. He pulled it out curiously, it turning out to be a ring with a blue essence in a gem.

"What is this?" he said to himself, his Breton senses picking up some magicka in the gem. He closed his fingers on top the ring, going back through the room with Sallus Gravvius and waving at him casually before setting his closed hand on the knob, using his knuckles to turn the door knob. And then, he took his first free step out of the building.

Please do leave back constructive criticism and comments. They work like energy drinks to me. ))

He shut the door behind him, taking in a great breath of fresh air, his face turning green from the smells of the environment. He coughed a little, turning to look toward the ocean. He spotted the ship he was on leaving the docks, heading to what he believed was north. Letting out a sigh, Alasar set his back against the wall. Might as well wait for Jiub in this foreign land.

And so, he waited. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes into hours. After about three of those, Alasar looked through the window of the door to see Gravvius working out a few papers. Where was he?

"Um, hello sir." a voice squeaked behind Alasar, the Breton turning to see a Bosmer wearing a green shirt and pants standing there. "I could not help but notice you arrive off that ship."

"Yeh.. I was transported here for some reason." Alasar said, looking the Bosmer over. "Just waiting for my friend to get through there?"

"Friend?" the Bosmer said, raising a brow, "Im sorry to say, but you were the only one that got off the boat. If your friend was on there, you can try swimming after him or her."

Alasar's heart fell. Jiub, gone? Perhaps his only friend he would of had on his adventures, and the damned Imperials took him away! It was as if a wizard cast a spell to track Alasar down, and do everything in his power to torment him. How the hell could any of this be legal? How?

"Pardon me but... you wouldn't happened to have seen a ring while coming in, would you?" the Bosmer said with curiosity, "The damned Imperials took a family heirloom of mine in there weekly, 'Shake Down Fargoth' ritual! Hate them, hate them I do!"

Alasar was about to say no, but then remembered. While he was hiding the bag full of 'borrowed' merchandise, he spotted a ring and added that to his loot. Looking around to make sure no one was looking, Alasar returned his gaze to the Bosmer who's name he suspected was Fargoth.

"As a matter of fact..." he opened the bag, making sure not to let anything fall as he pulled the ring out. Fargoth was busy gazing at the massive amount of items in there, not paying attention to what Alasar had in his hands. "Uh.. Fargoth? FARGOTH!"

The Bosmer looked up, startled.

"This the ring you are looking for?" Alasar said, handing it toward the Wood Elf. He did not know why he was doing it, but he just did. He would already have enough money to buy all his needs anyways, so why not?

The Bosmer's eyes widened, his face filling with joy. "You found it! Thank you thank you!" Fargoth said, taking the ring joyfully, "You are now my bestest friend! I'll tell everyone about you, especially Arille at the trade house! Go see him now!"

Alasar smiled, the reaction making him feel slightly better about himself in a way. "Say Fargoth..." he said, "Any idea where we are?"

"Where we are? Well that is simple my friend. Seyda Neen, swamp capital of Vvardenfall!"

"Vvardenfall.. and that is?"

"My my, you truly are lost, aren't you? Well, I can not provide much information, this being my little home, but I will tell you common knowledge. Vvardenfall is a rather large Island in Morrowind, where the great Volcano, Red Mountain lies." Fargoth turned, setting his hands over his eyes as if looking for something.

"Red Mountain? What is that?"

"What is that? Hang on... You can not see it well down here. Follow me." Fargoth said, Alasar doing so. As they moved through town, the Breton took much notice of many imperial guards, who in turn were eying him with suspicion. No doubt they were wondering what a prisoner was doing with a bag full of items.

They made there way past many straw roofed houses, entering a more muddy area with gray wooden shacks. A lighthouse could be seen not very far, which seemed to be where Fargoth was heading. Entering it, Alasar spotted what appeared to be female version of Jiub, reading a book at a desk. He waved at her before following Fargoth up some wooden stairs and exiting out of another door.

They could see the entire town now, Fargoth going up a few more stairs before reaching the top of the building. Alasar sighed, looking around.

"Right there." Fargoth said, pointing in a northern direction. Alasar looked toward it, not seeing anything for a moment. Then, he spotted it. A large black mountain in the distance, a god among other mountains. A red haze seemed to be spewing from the top, and if Alasar listened faintly, he could hear a little rumbling from its activity.

"It is not completely active, but about a month ago, a rumor that sprouted from the Telvanni Wizard's sprouted about some force at work there, beginning a process that would take years to finish it. Simple insanity if you ask me."

Alasar just nodded, his eyes fixed on the mountain. There was something about it that seemed to be beckoning the Breton to travel the thousands of miles and see it very close. Something about the mountain filled Alasar with a small sense of dread, as if he knew before he left Morrowind, he would have to climb to the very top and perhaps go somehow in the mountain it self.

"It sort of reminds me of some book I read... cant remember the name, nor author. But still..."

Fargoth chuckled, "Well, there it is."

"Yeh. When does the next ship off this Island get here?"

"Off? My, my friend. The only ships that ever leave this Island are supply and prison boats."

"What?" Alasar said, his voice shaking, "Why?"

"The Blight. Just as the activity from Red Mountain started, it seems like The Blight of the Ash Lord, Dagoth Ur, has crept out from his lands."

"Ash Lord? Dagoth Ur?"

"Some villain of the Tribunal or something. Im not sure, but he is in prophecies involving the ALMSIVI."

"The..."

"The three heroes of the Tribunal. Almalexia, Vivec, and Sotha Sil. They are the Dunmer gods, all though I believe that Amalexia is apart of some very ancient elven race. The chimmers or chimeras or something. Beats me friend, beats me."

Alasar just nodded, "Well Fargoth, it was a pleasure meeting you. Im afraid I must take my leave however, for I need to sell this burden."

"Burden that you took from the Imperials?" Fargoth said, rather quietly. Alasar's eyes widened in horror.

"Uh.. what are you talking about?"

"Come on now Alasar! No one comes off a prison boat with a bag full of items identical to that of items in the offices of the Census and Excise."

"Look, Fargoth! You can NOT go mentioning that to anyo-"

"Dont worry about it my friend. We, the civilians of this port town, look kindly upon those that harm our slave ma- im sorry, protectors. "

Alasar just stared at Fargoth for a moment, taking in all the words... and then, slowly, a grin crept on his face. He began to chuckle, Fargoth joining in.

"Alright then Al, take care." he said, Alasar nodding before heading toward the trade house.

Who here can guess what book that Alasar was referring to? Its in the real world.

I couldnt help but notice that when he was on the ship with Juib that he said he was "A mage in training". I think it would make more sense to say that he was a mage apprentice.

Return of the King??

Ding ding. You have won.... oxygen!!! No refunds.

Yay!! :twirl: *breaths deeply*

Btw Rem. I have read your story, and really enjoy it.))

I should have the next bit of this posted by sunday. But for now... a sneak peak!))

Alasar walked around the region for a few hours, trying to get his thoughts in order, when suddenly he heard a loud cry from above. Looking up, he saw something falling from the sky. Fear began to creep in Alasar. Would if it was a giant bird getting ready to swoop him up and devour him, or... or a dragon! Who knew what awaited him in Morrowind! The falling object came closer and closer, Alasar trying to run, but his legs not moving.

"CATCH ME!" a voice cried from the object, Alasar realizing it was a falling person. He was about to raise his arms to catch the strange person, but to his horror saw that the person was falling a good few feet away from him, landing right on... bam, the road.



Lets just say, Alasar has not matured much yet, and that was indeed the man with the scrolls of Incarian Flight >:) ))

If I may be so bold, the sneakpeak on the guy with the icarian scrolls is too short, imo, it's a potentially really funny part, use it.

Thanks, appreciate you read it. :tops:
You think it's more accessible for readers now I broke up the large slabs of text?