Claire's Story

Post » Mon Mar 01, 2010 6:27 pm

Here is the reasonably revised opening sequence to a story that I am writing. The story itself follows the main quest, but I am trying to take a few creative liberties along the way. I want to keep it as entertaining as possible, without leaving the realm of what is possible within the game itself.

If you are already familiar with the story of Claire, as some of you may be, then there is not much entirely foreign to you here.

All the same, I have (nearly) completely overhauled the first section of the story, because I felt that it was poorly written and in desperate need of some attention grabbing depth.

Given that, I am eagerly anticipating your opinions. This is the opening sequence of the story, if you will, and it attempts to follow Claire on her escape from prison and her immediate adventures upon doing so. Upon the suggestions of readers, I have dropped (almost) entirely the starting description of the beginning sewers in an attempt to get to unique aspects of my story all the sooner. However, certain elements of it are necessarily present, since the main quest itself makes little sense when the events of the starting dungeon are omitted. It is still my intent to captivate readers as early as possible, so I would very much like to know if this does so.

Furthermore, the story was previously written in a poor attempt to sound like a diary. About halfway through the former version, I dropped the diary appearance altogether, realizing how badly I was keeping up that perspective. The story does not really lend itself to being read as a diary either. As such, I have re-written it in the style of a memoir or recollection. Once again, please comment on the effectiveness and quality of this strategy.

Any other criticism and suggestion is perfectly welcome. I am really endeavoring to make an enjoyable experience, and this whole thing is more for your entertainment than mine. Consequently, I am perfectly open to any comments and critiques.

Please, read, enjoy, and comment!

-Ken


PS:
Some of you are eager to keep reading beyond what I have posted here.
Here are some links to the previous versions that I have already written. Please understand that these are rough drafts, and that I am editing these as I go, to be posted then in the forums.

-Chapters 1-10- This is the part that is posted here.
http://uploaded.interestingnonetheless.net/Menion/Diary11-20.htm
http://uploaded.interestingnonetheless.net/Menion/Diary21-30.htm
http://uploaded.interestingnonetheless.net/Menion/Diary31-40.htm
http://uploaded.interestingnonetheless.net/Menion/Diary41-50.htm
http://uploaded.interestingnonetheless.net/Menion/Diary51-60.html
http://uploaded.interestingnonetheless.net/Menion/Diary61-70.html
http://uploaded.interestingnonetheless.net/Menion/Diary71-80.html
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aisha jamil
 
Posts: 3436
Joined: Sun Jul 02, 2006 11:54 am

Post » Mon Mar 01, 2010 9:43 pm

I have never considered myself an author or journalist. Words and prose tumble through my head with all the grace of an intoxicated mountain troll. Even so, my aversion to authorship is greatly surpassed by my desire to relate a most remarkable tale. Indeed, the events and circumstances that I hope to lay bare in the following pages may well describe one of the most singular, most fantastic periods in all the history of Man. A proper relation of the story would begin, rightly, with an adequate description of the history of the Empire and the state of affairs immediately preceding these most remarkable events. Undoubtedly, no honestly curious mind would ever be satisfied to say that he had a true understanding of these circumstances without a far greater volume of information than I may ever, myself, be able to provide. Nevertheless, it is my desire to record my experiences to the fullest extent possible, that the memories and stories of many unprecedented individuals might not be lost to the eddies and swirls in the river of time. For the time being, it would be most productive of me to simply begin telling the story as it began from my own perspective. Over the coming years, perhaps I will endeavor to chronicle the details and context of these events from the perspectives of my friends and allies as well. It is impossible to entirely separate my own experiences from those of others, however, so I believe that the following account will provide a sufficient, if not complete, account of things. With that short preface, I will turn to my notes and begin my account.

I remember staring blankly at the featureless stone ceiling as chains and wrist shackles clanked, swaying back and forth in the gloom. Suspended from above by a rusty bolt, the aging iron restraints rocked steadily under the influence of a thick, dank draft from overhead. There was a single window high above me, scarcely enough to allow a sliver of light to sprinkle into my cell for parts of the day. Keeping track of the rise and fall of the sun grew impossible after a number of weeks, however, and I eventually lost all sense of time. It was only years later that I would regain it.

I was alone in my cell, and aside from the occasional Imperial guardsman or slop dog, I had only a deranged Dark Elf to keep as any sort of company. He occupied a cell directly across from my own, and Valen Dreth, my Dunmeri companion, was mad. For as long as I could remember he had been there ranting and raving about his own glorious and eventual escape from his cell. He claimed to have so many friends in so many outrageous places that one couldn't help but wonder if the positions even existed within the Imperial hierarchy. Over time, it required all the effort I could manage to remain outside his influence, though it grew more difficult each day. I feared that his madness might spread to corrupt the only other mind available for corrupting ? my own. Rarely was I ever sure that I was actually still sane. Many days I awoke and wished to the gods that I could walk over to his cell and beat the madness out of him.

On numerous occasions I even tried, but to no avail. The Imperial City boasts some of the most powerful wizards and spells in all Tamriel, courtesy of the Arcane University. My cell bars were a fine example of the practicality of that arrangement. As for myself, I had been raised by a wizard, and a formidable one at that. Even so, at the peak of my strength, when I first arrived at the prison all those years ago, I could scarcely get a shock spell to radiate past my door frame. After years of confinement and atrophy, however, I had no hope of penetrating the powerful barriers. In fact, all that I could even recall of my former magical repertoire was a feeble flame spell, hardly enough to kindle a stove, and a humble restoration charm sufficient to keep my pains dulled.

Indeed, my considerable powers in the Restorative Arts kept me alive for many of those years, grounding my senses and keeping my mind sharp. Even so, my abilities gradually eroded away for lack of any real use. Regardless of that, my blood father had been curiously blessed with "Dragon Skin", a magical ability governed by the passing of the sun. More of a reflex than anything else, magic deep within the soul of anyone with Dragon Skin occasionally explodes to the surface in a tumultuous wave of fierce white magic, only manifesting in times of tremendous stress or mortal peril. This energy surrounds the user, protecting them with the mighty defenses of ancient dragons from our homeland. Thus my ancestry gave me strength, blessing me with a magic unique to my species and rare even among them. No amount of time could take it away from me, and for that I was thankful. How the ability came to be acquired by my people is a mystery, and nobody is sure what circumstances dictate its inheritance. Consequently, its exact nature was never clearly understood. Furthermore, it was not an ability that I had ever learned to control, if indeed it could be controlled, and these facts often unnerved me.

One morning I awoke in that morbid, though familiar, place to an unfamiliar sound. A powerful and commanding voice was resonating through the hallways - a voice I was sure I had never heard, but that sounded as familiar as that of my own father. There were others, a woman and two men, all Imperials. After a moment I could see her, a guard, perhaps a ranking official; for her armor was elaborate. In her wake were two soldiers and a man that must have been royalty, judging by his wardrobe. His gown was fit for a king.

They approached my cell, and I was terrified. I had no idea what was in store for me. The guards announced themselves and entered my cell, demanding that I step aside, only to walk right past me. Then the stately man spoke. I wasn't really paying attention to the situation, for I was fixated on a single question: Why did I seem to know him? He told me bluntly that he was the Emperor and that they were fleeing the palace. Then he said I was to be freed, because he sensed a great bond with destiny in me. His words hit me hard and fast, abruptly shocking me out of my musings. A strange feeling came over me, a moment of disorientation, and then a sharp snap as my mind realized the truth of what was going on.

The guards slid to the wall and opened a door hidden within the bricks. I was shocked at my inability to discover such a passage after so many years of imprisonment right next to it. Then I wondered if my cell was ever supposed to house a prisoner in the first place. The guards allowed me to follow, and I did knowing quite well that my presence was not appreciated or trusted. They dared not raise their concerns over the voice of the Emperor however, for he himself had requested my company. We traveled.

While walking through the hidden tunnels, a strange event took place. It was all over before I could even tell what was going on. There was a scream, some motion, the metallic clanging of swords, and flashes of color. Then silence. The guards looked around and mumbled to themselves, slightly shaken. But the Emperor was reserved and collected, as if he already knew what was happening, and even expected it. In fact, he didn't seem to be surprised by much at all, almost as if he saw things coming before they occurred. There had been an ambush of sorts, and a very quick fight. The woman in ornate armor had been killed by two men in red robes. Apparently this had not been the guards' first encounter with them, as one of them grumbled about it "happening again." But our little entourage moved on, for there was no time to waste. They pressed ahead to negotiate a locked gate and I was left there with the body to look around. The woman carried a short sword of steel, and not too heavy. Even in my feeble condition knew I could make use of it. But she also owned a Katana, a superior weapon. As I descended the stairs to follow the little group, I heard a sickening sound, the collapsing of stone and the grating of crushed rocks and bricks. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of the chaos.

A section of wall had collapsed, and a pair of massive sewer rats poured into the small space. The guards hurried the Emperor through the gates, and slammed them shut behind. I was cut off from the group, and left to fend for myself. Needless to say, I was very weak and poorly armed, so quite an effort was necessary for me to defend myself. Furthermore, for a lengthy amount of time thereafter, I was separated from the Emperor and his escort as I wandered the sewer system. The tunnel system proved to be rather elaborate, and connected eventually to a system of caverns. While my adventures therein were considerable, the exact details have little bearing on the story I wish to relate. As a courtesy then, I shall include a more detailed description of my endeavors in the caverns in another, latter work.

For the time being, it should be noted that, upon exiting a particular cavern in which I had earned a wonderful staff, I was greeted by familiar voices. Apparently the Emperor's bodyguards had stopped to take a break, for I had caught up with them again. I was glad to rejoin the little group because the presence of armored soldiers made me feel much safer and secure. It was not long, however, before we were all, once again, under assault by the mysterious attackers.

We managed to fight our way to the back of the catacombs until it seemed we were cornered at a dead end. The assassins poured out from several directions and we were quite trapped. It was then that the Emperor turned directly to me and informed me of his foreknowledge of our predicament. He requested that I take his pendent and deliver it to a man named Jauffre. As his aged hand passed the exquisite artifact into my possession, his wizened eyes met mine for a brief moment. They sparkled, and he smiled just enough. Abruptly, a lone attacker coming from the wall behind us managed to get a solid blow on the Emperor, and he was gone. I stared blankly at the graceful figure as he lay upon the floor. Even in death, the Emperor relayed a majestic aura. I stood there, helpless, as the battle continued ferociously.

It was not long before each of the assassins had been defeated, though I was only able to barely defend my own life with the Shaman's staff. The leader of the guards was furious, and I could tell that his emotions were altogether crushed. He seethed with rage over the death of his emperor, but then I could hear the devastation is his voice when he attempted to speak. It was clear that he held the Emperor in the highest regard, life a father, or more. It was a long time before he recovered himself enough to carry a conversation. I asked him if he knew of the man Jauffre's whereabouts, and the captain provided me with extensive instructions. I was told the best route to escape the sewers, as well as keys to a number of gates that lay ahead. The trip was reasonably brief, but at its end I beheld a magnificent sight, daylight!
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Jacob Phillips
 
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Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2007 9:46 am

Post » Mon Mar 01, 2010 10:33 pm

The bold is very annoying. Is there a particular reason why you're doing it? If not I suggest you revert back to normalcy.
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Jack Walker
 
Posts: 3457
Joined: Wed Jun 06, 2007 6:25 pm

Post » Tue Mar 02, 2010 12:39 am

Bold removed. And here is the next installment:



And, by the gods what a wonderful sight it was too. I had forgotten how beautiful Cyrodil really was. Ahead of me was Lake Rumare, a massive body of water that acted as a moat around the island Imperial City, the capital of the Empire. The sunlight played across the water with such exquisite perfection, a dance that the finest performers in all Tamriel could never hope to match. The sky was so clear and blue that one's imagination couldn't paint a better picture. The breeze was softly massaging the tree branches, and tickling the flowers. The air was crisp and fresh. What a glorious day it was.

I could see an Ayleid ruin across the water. Those ancient people marveled me, and had captivated my imagination for as long as I could remember. As a Breton raised by a leader amongst wizards, my skills in the arcane arts had been formidable once. Furthermore, I was born under the influence of the celestial Atronach, and I bore an ancient rune on my left wrist as a testament. The rune was formidable in its own right, able to absorb magical energies and direct them safely within my body. With it, I could serve as the conduit for immense volumes of magic, releasing and directing much of it towards my own ends. This was not to say that I was immune to offensive spellcasting, far from it, but when my attentions were properly commanding a situation, a magical assault was certainly not the most effective means of subduing me. Given all that, however, I was, at the time, most debilitated and flaccid. I was in no way capable of handling any nature of confrontation at all.

As for the Ayleids, they commanded sorcery far beyond the feeble fire and ice that wizards of the day tossed around. Arcana ran very deep, composing the very fabric of existence itself. The laws of magic were ancient, as old as time itself. Empires had risen and fallen its shadows, and knowledge of its deepest and most obscure secrets was far from common amongst men. Presently, curiosity overcame me such that I temporarily forgot the charge bestowed on me by the Emperor. Running to the end of the pier I happily shed my clothing and dove into the cool, refreshing waves. It had been so long since I properly bathed that I dared not guess as to my own scent. After taking well over an hour washing and playing in the blessed currents of the Lake, I decided it was indeed time to move forward. To my name, I carried only a rough leather cuirass and boots as well as a torn burgundy skirt and a filthy blouse that looked to have been white at one time. It all had to suffice, however, so I dressed and continued onward.

Near the ruin I discovered something wonderful indeed, fresh food at a small camp and some flower seeds that would prove useful once I resumed experimenting in alchemy. As to alchemy as a subject, it is an arcane science, a blend of magic and chemistry. My uncle had been one of the foremost experts on the art, and thus owned an entire library dedicated to the research of it. As a young child, I had developed a keen interest in alchemy because of the, often astonishing, results that could be achieved. The most mundane of objects usually had the most remarkable properties under just the right circumstances, and when used in exactly the right way. Proficiency in alchemy required a great deal of study to be of much practical use, however, for the variety of ingredient combinations and circumstances under which potions might be made is utterly astounding. Having read some of the most complex books on the subject from a very young age, however, I felt that alchemy was one field of study that I would always be the most comfortable dabbling with.

Alas, after resting for only a moment to fill my stomach, I continued into the ruins. Inside, it was nearly silent and very dark. I could hear the sounds of air slowly circulating through the passages. The groans and hisses made the place seem alive, and a feeling of uncertainty suddenly washed over me. Up ahead I could barely make out the boots of an individual, though I was unable to ascertain gender. Perhaps this person would have some information about the ruins for me, or offer up assistance in some other aspect? I thought it prudent to strike up a proper conversation for the first time in, perhaps, years.

SHLINK, I heard the sound of a formidable weapon being drawn, and the only other response I got was a disgusted grunt and the pleasure of a close up view of an axe when the man, as he turned out to be, charged. Deciding that it was not in my best interest to fight a man about whom I knew nothing, in a dungeon that could contain nearly anything, and who wielded an axe as heavy, at least, as my own body, I fled. Turning about as fast as I was able, I made haste for the door.

Blasting out of the ruins and into the daylight, I turned to see if my assailant was determined enough to follow me out of his domain. Sure enough, the large man came barreling out of the ruins behind me, swinging his mighty weapon as if he were wildly fighting for survival. Terrified and confused, I simply took off running back the way I had come. I dove into the water in a pitiable attempt to dissuade my pursuer, but he was as determined to kill me as I had been to explore that ruin. I ran desperately towards the city. The walls prevented me from entering, and I was mortified. But I knew that people could gain access at some point? but where? After a frantic and panicked moment, I realized that I glanced over a bridge not to far to my right. I had seen it, but I over looked it. Clearly, the bridge must service an entrance to the city, I could think of no other reason to bother building one. I tore towards the stone safe-haven as fast as I could endure.

Upon arriving at the city gates I found them graciously unlocked and I was able to throw them open by slamming my bodyweight against them. Shortly inside I beheld a most beautiful site, two Imperial Guardsmen standing watch at the doors!

"Sirs, Please!" I screamed, desperate for help.

The madman was still giving chase, and he came pounding up toward the city from behind some scattered rocks and boulders. His madness was beyond my comprehension. However, the guards were as dependable as they were skilled, and the awful bandit was met and taken before ever making the streets. The bandit fought furiously, swinging his mighty battle axe at the imperial troopers. The ensuing fight was bloody, but decidedly short. As the rogue drew his final breath, his weapon crashed to the ground and clambered over the pavement with a sharp clang. Taking a moment to consider the events that just transpired, I realized that the same organization that had been keeping me imprisoned only yesterday had just saved my life. Upon allowing my head to clear, I perceived that the battle axe was rather ornate, and the edge was finely honed. The Imperial guardsmen were busy pvssyring about the body, and moments later one dispatched, presumably to locate assistance. The weapon lay forgotten.

Since I happened to be standing, destitute, in the city's marketplace, I thought it unwise not to try and make some good of the circumstances. I hoisted the axe up onto my shoulder and carried it off with me. There was an armory nearby; so I paid it a visit first. Inside I was introduced to Maro Rufus, a good humored and solid-looking man. I offered him the battle-axe in exchange for a decent set of boots, basic repairs to my leather cuirass and shield and enough cash to secure a fresh set of simple clothing. He agreed, and the deal was struck. I left his shop with an excellent set of new fur boots, my own possessions, and three hundred septims.

After shopping for a few hours to find a good deal on some clean clothing, I wandered the city. Things hadn't changed that much over the years. The Imperial City was laid out just as it had always been; in a distinctly wagon-wheel shape. By heading towards the large tower in the center of the city, it was relatively easy to find any of the sectors adjoining the central district. Since the only bridge off of City Island is in the west, I headed towards the afternoon sun from the palace. Once outside, I found the city to be far more beautiful than I ever remembered, the Ayleid architecture never failing to amaze me. The bridge out of the city was absolutely stunning, so I crossed it with the utmost laziness; allowing myself to take in the gorgeous environment. At the foot of the bridge lies a small town of sorts called Weye, though I'm not sure if the same man owns all the property. Should that be the case, it may be more of an estate than anything else.

"Good afternoon stranger, do you know the way to the Weynon Priory?" I asked an old man in the road.

"Of course, just follow the signs to Chorrol."

Simple enough I thought, and headed off in the direction indicated by the street signs.

The road to Chorrol was straightforward and uneventful, and finding the Priory even moreso. It lay a small distance from the road, and I practically had to pass between the buildings if I wished to continue on to the city. Along the way, I didn't encounter anything more noteworthy than an abandoned fort with a few aging provisions and what seemed to be an equally abandoned farmhouse. At the priory, I had the simple task before me of locating Jauffre. There were only a few loose buildings scattered about, so I began with the largest of these.

Inside, I was greeted by a pair of Priors who both indicated that the man I sought was upstairs. Upon topping the staircase I was surprised to find that this leader of the Blades appeared to be little more than another prior. I began to wonder about the men downstairs.

"Good day sir", I offered.

"Can I help you?" was the reply.

"I was sent here to speak with you by Emperor Uriel, have you a moment?"

His reply was tense and questioning.

"Yes, what do you know of the Emperor lass?"

"Well," I began, "I happened to be there when he died and he-" But I couldn't finish my thought.

The man stood abruptly, and razed my soul with a vicious stare.

"What?" He bellowed, "Only the assassins and an escort of Blades were with the Emperor, and I know you are not among the latter. You had best have a convincing explanation, or you may not leave this building alive."
Every muscle in my body tensed, and I was terrified. Twice in a single day since being released from prison had I feared for my very life.

"Please sir, listen," I beckoned. "I was being held prisoner in the palace when the Emperor passed through my cell with his Blades. He said I was to be released because he had seen me in his visions". The emperor was convinced I was the woman from his dreams, but I wasn't sure if I could convince Jauffre of the same. I realized suddenly that it might have been a mistake to come here at all.

"I knew the Emperor better than anyone," explained Jauffre. "His visions were potent, and often quite surprising. But he would have been wiser than to send you here and expect me to believe you on word alone."

Of course, I thought, but my mind had often been a step behind recently. "Here, the Amulet of Kings" I said. "The Emperor gave this to me and asked me to bring it here, that you would need it. He mentioned?" I was hesitant to offer this last bit, but I continued. "He mentioned another heir."

"Indeed, there is," replied Jauffre. "You'd better sit down; there is a lot you need to know if you are to be of any use to us. Quite a few years back the Emperor had sons; everyone knows that he has had sons, three to be exact. However, the truth is that there are four heirs to the Septim throne, though only three are legitimate. The emperor had an affair about which he wanted no one to know, naturally." The prior continued, "The fourth son was named Martin, and I was given the charge of finding a home for him. My position in the blades, an organization that hides itself amongst the clergy, made it prudent to place Martin in the care of the Church. I have watched him grow into a man over the years, out of touch with his reality. He is now a Priest of Akatosh in Kvatch, provided the assassins are as ignorant to his whereabouts as most."

"If you knew there was another heir, why is everyone raving about the lack of one?"

"Well firstly" Jauffre explained, "it has not been an entire day since the Emperor's assassination and I do not yet have the Amulet. Therefore I don't have any way to crown the new Emperor and as such, have said nothing about it. However, your visit to me has changed that particular detail, and now we shall move on." He continued, "The second problem is that I have lost contact with my Blades in Kvatch and I'm not quite sure what's going on down there, but it's unlikely coincidence. That's where you will come in once again."

Jauffre proceeded to explain to me his wish that I travel to Kvatch to find Martin, and return him to Weynon Priory. There was one triviality of that proposal that made little sense to me, however.

"Jauffre, may I ask you something?" I said.

"Go ahead" he replied.

"Well, you wish me to go to Kvatch and find Martin when you've lost contact with your own Blades in the city, but what if something is wrong? I'm hardly useful in a fight."

"Please don't worry" Jauffre reassured me, "You are welcome to use any of the resources I have available to a Blade here. Furthermore, I am not particularly interested in your acting as a soldier of any kind. Your mission is one of trust, and reconnaissance. Lastly, you might ask the other brothers if there is anything useful they can provide; I will personally inform them of the gravity of your mission. The Emperor trusted you, Claire, and his trust has never been misplaced. Perhaps you could learn to trust yourself as well."

"But why not send a detachment of Blades? I'm sure there is an army of them available," I asked, awkwardly.

"I have reason, young one, to believe that the Blades themselves have been compromised. The Emperor and his sons have been assassinated to swiftly, and so surely, that inside information is most certainly available to the organization that arranged it. Furthermore, if my Blades in Kvatch are not corresponding, I fear that there is a connection to Martin in that. I need someone that I can trust, and at this moment, you are the best candidate."
So much was good enough for me. I decided to stay the night at the Priory, and prepare to depart in the morning.

-

When I awoke, broke my fast and searched for Jauffre again to ask about provisions. The priory supplied several very useful items, including some potions and scrolls that would likely come in particularly handy. Downstairs I found the other brothers waiting for me already. Brother Pinel allowed me to read through some of his old training books - quite an interesting history is available in the Blades' recounts - and brother Maborel gifted me his horse. Despite the hospitality and inventory available to me at the Priory, I felt that I needed some additional supplies. My plan was to acquire them at the Imperial City, but to do that I would need money. Fortunately, I had an idea.

Riding south along the road I once again came to the seemingly abandoned farmhouse with "Odiil" written above the doorframe. Since it appeared that no one had touched the fields in weeks, I allowed myself the pleasure of clearing out the vegetable patch and loading up my saddlebags with carrots, turnips, cabbage, and tomatoes. From there, I continued to the Imperial city. Upon arriving, I stopped first by the Septim hotel to purchase a certain collection of food items. Satisfied with my collection of particularly, I then sought out the nearest apothecary. I had not attempted any Alchemy in several years, but it was more of an art for me than a skill. Furthermore, I had just spent every nickel to my name on supplies. I had very little to work with, but I was also aware that alchemy can quite often make something of almost nothing. I spent hours at the apothecary, mixing, grinding, distilling, and overall dabbling about. I had piles of nectar, mushrooms, seeds, any number of foodstuffs, flower petals, and an assortment of roots. The apothecary allowed me to use a simple set of equipment, as all I had of use in the subject was a small mortar and pestle.

Once enough time had passed, I had created a veritable wealth of small, simple potions. I approached the counter and hailed the shop owner.

"What can I get for all this?" I asked her.

"Hmmm? let me see. That's quite a lot you're carrying, what's 1450 sound?"

I had never even seen 1450 Septims, much less been offered that sum. With that sort of money I knew I would be able to purchase nearly anything I could possibly need. Magic was my greatest strength and affinity, so I decided that rebuilding some of my old mastery was the most productive way to spend the remaining hours of the morning. At a small shop called Edgar's, I was able to find a scroll that offered an explanation of a reasonably powerful summon spell to called a Daedric Scamp into my service. I practiced it, and when I was confident in my ability to call upon my companion when he was needed, I felt much more comfortable heading to Kvatch.

The high noon had passed, yet the afternoon was still young. I had accomplished much since leaving the Priory, but I still had plenty of daylight, so I thought I would continue on my way. Outside the city once more, I found the afternoon sun over Cyrodil to be quite soothing, and I began my peaceful journey south towards Skingrad. The earth sung and buzzed with life around me. The meadows and trees themselves seemed alive with the chorus of the wilderness, and the wind and my horse were my companions. I was at peace. Before long, however, I became aware of an awful stillness, as if the very world around me had been suddenly struck unconscious.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a wolf came bounding down a hill and attacked, sending me tumbling out of the saddle and into the grass as my horse bucked and reared. As she came crashing to the ground in front of me there was one brief moment of total chaos. I struggled with my own senses for a fraction of a second before I was on my feet again, alert. The wolf was still nearby, and my horse was laying on the ground, kicking and struggling. I doubted I could right her and carry on before the wolf returned, so I had to be ready. Years ago, a timber wolf such as this would have been a laughably simple affair to contend with, but in my current state, I was not so sure. Nervous and on edge, I whipped my head around, scanning for the threat.

In an instant, I was hit. My senses were sharp, and I heard the beast coming, but the wolf was much quicker. The impact sent us both sprawling into the grass, and I suddenly felt hopeless and terrified. I detected a sudden warmth in my shoulder that indicated an open wound, and my spirits plummeted. In a ferocious rage, the animal bounded around again and leaped savagely towards me. I felt my flesh tear, and heard my blood spill onto the ground around me. For a moment, I was sure that I would soon be dogfood.

I tried desperately to pummel the wolf with fire. My attempts were a joke. I made every attempt to summon the scamp I had practiced with so extensively earlier, but it would not come to me. My mind was off, I was losing focus. Suddenly, I felt a searing pain that radiated up from my chest into my arms. My body locked up, and I felt sure that I was experiencing death, but only for a moment. One instant later, I was far more in touch with the reality of things, and I felt that I might have a pittance of a chance to destroy the beast after all.

In desperation, an explosion of magic had surged up through my body, and I erupted with power. Freezing ice filled my arms and hands, and I could feel it pleading, begging to be released.

Permission granted.

A flash of magic lashed out at my enemy, heaving the animal a good distance away. I stood, full of energy, and I could see the space around my hands rippling with energy, like heat rising off the road at mid-day. As for the wolf, it rolled to a stop, then stood and looked about cautiously. I could tell that it was reconsidering its assault. To my surprise, however, the beast launched itself at my horse, intent on making a meal of the fight after all.I pountced, pouring ice and fire into the creature just as it overtook my steed. The wolf attempted to switch targets, and took a halfhearted leap in my direction. When it connected with me, my magic lashed out and detonated with the wild animal, and, abruptly, the fight ended. I fell to my knees, injured and drained, but happy to be alive. Exhausted, I decided to rest for a while and recover.

Upon waking up an hour or so later I had to face the harsh reality that, as an atronach, my own magicka cannot be restored by any natural means. Without some source to replenish my strength, my offensive magic would be mostly useless once I had expended it. The Rune can be a blessing in some cases, but just as often can be a curse. I needed find a way to regenerate my magic. Nearby I saw an Ayleid ruin, and a thought crossed my mind. The Ayleids manufactured countless thousands of stone gems known as Welkynd stones, and each one carried an extraordinary amount of magic within it. The remarkable thing is that the Welkynd stone appears as an ordinary rock to anyone that is not in need of one, and thus most of them have survived undisturbed for centuries. The Ayleids were notoriously particular when designing their artifacts.

Knowing that there was little other chance for recovery, I drank a simple restorative elixir that Jauffre had offered. It allowed my mana to regenerate slowly over the course of an hour or so, but was much better than nothing. Once inside the ruins, I was confident I would be able to harness a small amount of Ayleid power.
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herrade
 
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Post » Mon Mar 01, 2010 11:20 pm

No criticism, no opinions, no critiques, no suggestions?

Nothing at all? No interest?

I was hoping to get some feedback so that I could turn this into something nice, but if there's no real interest, I'm just going to give it up.
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Tikarma Vodicka-McPherson
 
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Post » Mon Mar 01, 2010 10:14 pm

I've read it and enjoyed it. Only thing that made me wonder is the lack of the feel of it being a diary. It feels a bit distant from her emotions she'd describe in her personal diary.
Don't be disappointed by the lack of interest or seemingly lack of interest. Don't forget, you write because YOU enjoy it.

Oh, and as a sidenote, what you posted here feels a lot more vivid than what you linked to. That was, like you mentioned, a bit rough.
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Matt Fletcher
 
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Post » Mon Mar 01, 2010 4:41 pm

I've read it and enjoyed it. Only thing that made me wonder is the lack of the feel of it being a diary. It feels a bit distant from her emotions she'd describe in her personal diary.
Don't be disappointed by the lack of interest or seemingly lack of interest. Don't forget, you write because YOU enjoy it.

Oh, and as a sidenote, what you posted here feels a lot more vivid than what you linked to. That was, like you mentioned, a bit rough.


^^I agree with this. The whole thing reads somewhat like cross between a diary and a novel, while the fact that the action shifts from event to event without ever really being "rooted" anywhere really kicks the whole immersion factor right out the window. You have a really good command of language, that's evident, but I really don't think you're using it to the best of your abilities. Your descriptions are great, but there is no suspense, tension or empathising with the character throughout any point in the story thusfar. Also, I know you're more or less sticking to the Oblivion plot, but the story seems pretty shallow and moving at a much too fast (and even) pace.

I helped c:
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Dorian Cozens
 
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Post » Tue Mar 02, 2010 2:59 am

Correction, I read most of it. Links to chapters 51-80 don't seem to work.
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Vicki Gunn
 
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Post » Mon Mar 01, 2010 3:08 pm

Correction, I read most of it. Links to chapters 51-80 don't seem to work.


Oh man!

Good thing you pointed that out. That's the best part of the story, fixed.

I will work on fixing the chapters 11-20 next. I'm going to try and slow her down a little, and maybe even break to parts of the story that aren't in her perspective. I dunno, I'm just trying stuff.

I agree though, it's too fast and the action is shallow, especially in the early parts.
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CORY
 
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Post » Mon Mar 01, 2010 6:08 pm

what gender is the paint horse? It seems to androgyn, you refer to the horse both him and her.
Same with the chestnut horse.
Her name is Handy, she's yours........ I mounted the steed....

Another quick gender change? ;)
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IsAiah AkA figgy
 
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Post » Mon Mar 01, 2010 2:36 pm

Ok, cool. Yea I noticed that I goofed with the paint horse, I'm going to fix that in a rewrite. Probably will stick with 'she.'

I didn't realize that the word "steed" wasn't gender neutral. Thanks.
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x_JeNnY_x
 
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Post » Tue Mar 02, 2010 12:48 am

Tbh, after some consideration, I am starting to have to doubts whether steed is only male. Anyone care to comment?
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Ellie English
 
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Post » Tue Mar 02, 2010 3:27 am

I thought steed (likewise mount), were gender neutral.

If you want to give it a gnder, you could refer to it as mare or stallion I guess. :P
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Brian Newman
 
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Post » Tue Mar 02, 2010 2:09 am

Yeah,Im pretty sure steed refers to any living thing you ride, male or female.ALso when will the story be concluded.
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Colton Idonthavealastna
 
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Post » Mon Mar 01, 2010 4:13 pm

bump
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Karen anwyn Green
 
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