Disinformation: Manufacture and Submission
by Kausha Sarvayn and Lorundil of Alinor




A Novelisation Of The Techniques Of The Morag Tong And Of Practical Sorcery




Foreword by Kausha Sarvayn

Everyone finds his or her own niche in life. Whether it is designing and making clothes of the finest cloth, cooking meals that make the taste buds water at the slightest inhalation of their aroma, or creating and repairing quality armour and weapons. There are those who do the unsung work, the work that nobody likes doing, the cleaners and the servants. We would be lost without those who fish, or the hunters who find the food and hides. There are the merchants, mages, enchanters and alchemists. Not to mention the monks, healers and teachers, those pious and religious souls who dedicate their lives to helping others.

Then there are those who crave excitement and danger. The restless type who tend to end up as adventurers, soldiers and assassins.

I never really saw myself as a cook or a cleaner, and my faith was more for show than truly heartfelt.

From as early as I can remember, I craved more to my life. I wanted excitement, to live on the edge, to feel alive. Therefore, I became a Buoyant Armiger. It seemed perfect. A job that was exciting enough to satisfy my urges, whilst having the additional benefit of seeming pious enough for my parents not to argue too much. At the risk of sounding too arrogant, I was a good one too. A little lacking in the true believer stakes, I freely admit, but when has a questioning mind ever been a negative? Nobody ever complained, especially when my particular talents began to emerge. To my surprise, I turned out to be stealthy and quick, with a quick and competent brain to go with it. Perhaps that does sound egotistical, but I can assure you it came as quite a surprise to those who had known me up to that point. What they found most useful though was a quality that I lacked, remorse. I never bothered with that emotion, not that I can recollect anyway. Who knows what the mind blocks out? Anyway, I was talking about remorse. What is the point of it? Why beat yourself up for what has been and gone? Still, you may be surprised to know just how many seemingly fearsome warriors suffer from that ailment. That is how I always viewed it, as some sort of ailment or disease, or a memory to be locked away never to be seen or heard from again. A weakness if you like.

Of course, a combination of youth, a desire for excitement and a lack of remorse can lead to trouble. I hope you will understand my reasons for not choosing to go into too much detail at this point, as in some circles it is still a matter of some delicacy. In the end though, I choose to believe my career as a Buoyant Armiger come to an abrupt halt due to my lack of faith. They could tell I did not really care. Still, the parting of ways went fairly well. I had done a lot for them, and had been undeniably effective, so I like to believe that there was still respect on both sides.

For several weeks after my release, I had the time of my life. All those desires I had hidden away, whilst trapped in a suffocating mask of piety, were unleashed. It was fantastic, until the inevitable happened and my money ran out, a Buoyant Armiger not being a well-paid profession. It truly was a period of time that was much too short, and one I look back on now with extreme fondness. The offer to join the Morag Tong however came at just the right time. They had been watching me for some time they said, for which I hoped they had not watched the previous few weeks too closely, and they had a job for me. A job for which they thought I was ideally suited. I have been doing that same job now for more years than I care to recall.

Like most organisations in Morrowind, whether it is the Ordinators of the Temple or the private forces of the Great Houses, we like to deal with internal issues ourselves. By our very nature, the Morag Tong values secrecy, discretion and privacy. We regulate our own members; we do not need Imperial guards to clear up our embarrassments. They have enough work with regulating the Legion and the Cult, as well as keeping the peace. As such, we have our own, investigative branch, if you will. We are comprised of a select group of experienced assassins, who are still available for that purpose if required, but whose primary duties are the resolution of in-house problems. I am sure you can guess that we tend to resolve such issues in our own uniquely effective way.

That is what I do. I solve problems that could hurt our organisation, whether they are internal or external, and report only to the Grandmaster himself. What else should I tell you at this point? I am a Dunmer, as my name might suggest, a Dark Elf, for those not familiar with the term. My name too, I suppose, could be useful. How remiss of me. Well, my parents named me Kausha Sarvayn, though very few people ever use my first name. This is not an invitation for you to do so.

Finally, I would like to take this opportunity to explain my hopes for those initiates of the Tong who will read this book. My aim is for this to be a resource for you, as you study the texts in the guildhall libraries. Think of it like this, it is a combination of historical account and some sort of confessional. I place little stock in stuffy textbooks, so I hope to engage you, the reader, in an engrossing and conversational manner. I confess a large portion of the inspiration for this work comes from the Grandmaster himself, as he has written several accounts of his assignments. The most famous of course being “A Beautiful Duel”, the record of his first assignment for the Morag Tong. Infamous I should say, seeing as it somehow made its way into bookshops across the land. For those Morag Tong members who have yet to read this seminal work, I shall add directions on where you can find the book at the end of this introduction. As an added bonus for you, the Grandmaster has given me permission to show, within these pages, a few more of his personal accounts. All of which have never before been published.

For the purposes of this tale, I have taken the same perspective as that before mentioned work. If it is good enough for the Grandmaster, who am I to argue? Besides, I am no scholar. My aim for this is simple. I want you to experience the forthcoming events the way I myself did, and I promise to try to portray them as accurately as possible. Allow me to apologise in advance for any lapses in my memory, it is not always the most reliable I’m afraid, although whether it’s through the ravages of age or the perils of vanity I can never be sure. Does this surprise you, that my memory may not be perfect? Why should it be? I am most certainly not, so why should my memory be any different? This story is my recollection of events, and as such is subject to my own self-image. In addition, I might as well warn you now; I have never viewed myself as anything less than really quite exceptional. Others may disagree with this, and indeed have, at times loudly and repetitively. All I can say to them is this. If you want to state your opinion to balance my own, write your own account. It has no place here.

A final comment, before we begin. Some of you, maybe reading this many years from now and disappointed that you never had the pleasure of meeting me in person, may wonder what I look like. Strikingly handsome, with immaculate cheekbones and possessing a powerful and athletic build, these are qualities I can only dream of possessing. For now though, I shall settle with what I have. A wiry frame, of medium height, with a face described as cruel by some and nondescript by others. Useful in my line of work, I tend to believe. After all, I am an assassin and an investigator, if I were so good looking as to make heads turn at the very sight of me, well. I would not have remained an assassin as long as I have. If you wish to know more details as to how I look, I suggest you use your imagination. Just try to be pleasant about it; I have no physical deformities worth noting, so I would prefer that you not invent some for me.

Now, get comfortable. I want you to be comfortable; because I have hopes that you will find you enjoy reading this more than perhaps you anticipate. Allow your imagination to wonder at what exciting events follow. You suspect there must be some, or the Grandmaster would not have given me permission to write this account. Breathe slowly. Let yourself be in the moment. You are alone with me. Try to imagine you are perched on my shoulder, henceforth to be an active participant to events as they happen, now.

As promised, here are the directions to Eno Hlaalu’s classic work, “A Beautiful Duel”. Enter the guildhall library, walk down the first aisle and look http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4341458/1/A_Beautiful_Duel


Foreword by Lorundil of Alinor

When Sera Sarvayn asked me to co-author this book, detailing the events that befell the two of us earlier this year, I felt in two minds. The story itself I agreed needed preserving; how our paths had crossed and the subsequent direction our lives then took. I was also certainly flattered that he wished to share a writing credit with me. I was however wary of sharing too many of my secrets with those impressionable minds ill equipped to control them.

I am a Altmer and a sorcerer, born into the profession. I come from a long line of such, a noble lineage stretching back generations in the great town of Alinor in the Summerset Isles. Whilst my relatives remain there, I struck out on my own, in pursuit of knowledge and power. I have travelled the length and breadth of Tamriel, unearthing the mysteries of what we call magick. This I will share with you.

Although this is a novelisation, by necessity we go into great depths on the technical aspects of our skills. Sera Sarvayn will discuss in the forthcoming pages many detailed techniques in his specialised fields of interrogation, torture, influence and persuasion, strategy, the reading of facial expressions and body language, and combat.

I shall be discussing the practical ways in which magick can be used by the budding sorcerer, dealing in depth with ritual, preparation, alchemy and it’s uses, summoning, elemental magick, defensive magickal techniques and mind control. Both of us will touch on techniques of manipulation, in terms of the individual and large groups. Much of this material has the potential for misuse, and my fears were strong.

Both Sera Sarvayn and Grandmaster Hlaalu have assured me that this work will exist for the serious student of these dark arts, and shall be taught with care. Such is my respect for these two imposing and honourable men, I have agreed to the task. There is much knowledge within this tome. Take what you will, and apply your own code of ethics to its use. I can only hope you use them in the pursuit of knowledge and improvement.

In an attempt to make this as easily readable as possible, both Sarvayn and I have taken the same narrative approach. We are writing through the perspctive of our own eyes, as the events happen, and we hope that you find this approach immediate and engaging. There is no ideal perspective for a work of this style, and we felt this was the most appropriate. More entertaining and less stuffy, like we wished the books we read when we were younger had been.

Now, let us start at the beginning, with Sera Sarvayn and one of the most notorious murder investigations in recent history.

Well, It was very good. I found no fault with it, nor with the story it referred to. There is little else I a think to say.

Well, this is always a fun type of Fan Fic to read ^_^

To write from the point of the author leads to a few unique oppurtunities not available to the otherwise inclined writer, one having already been used by you, the usage of another story.

Well, I hope there is a plot to it, as the plot and descriptions are hardest to do from this type of writing. I hope this because that is one of the only reasons I read, but books can be enjoyable for their factual value as well. Or in this case lore.

Nonetheless, I can't say more until I know where you are going with this, with the exception of complementing you. Very good, I always love a Morag Tong story :goodjob:

Thanks for writing, keep it up

An intriguing start!

Having not been a fan of first person narrative for many years, I've suddenly found three people who make it work, and you're one of them. I love the narrative style you're using; it's like you sat me down in a circle of people and spoke the story aloud. I could hear a voice reciting this as I read it. There is a great mix of intimacy (the author telling a story as if speaking face-to-face) and removal (the lack of remorse you describe, which is clearly echoed in the clinical and impersonal way the Morag Tong link is revealed). I also really like the idea of this being the kind of book you find in the Elder Scrolls - it reminds me of Daggerfall's Confessions of a Thief, and had I come across this myself ingame, it wouldn't have seemed a bit out of place.

Very interested to see how this tale will develop More, please!

Kausha Sarvayn

I walk through the door of the Balmora Guildhall and immediately feel assaulted by the light. The Morag Tong guildhalls are famous for the bamboo candles we burn, which create the ominous dim red glow that informs our visitors that this is a place of assassins; these are still burning but are hardly visible. Instead, there is harsh yellow light from lanterns haphazardly placed everywhere. I gaze around the room in dismay, it seems to be pale and drained of colour, and start shaking the water off my robe. The second I stepped off the silt strider the skies had opened into a downpour. On the floor in the midst of the room lie four bodies. I take a step towards them, when I see over to my right the woman who runs the Balmora Guildhall, Master Ethasi Rilvayn, standing with two visitors, Legion soldiers of different ages. One, who I do not recognise, is very young and wearing the basic uniform of new recruits. The other stands tall and straight, wearing a cuirass that has numerous dents, though lovingly polished to a high sheen. The Legion Champion, Larrius Varro. I wonder to myself what he is doing here, when Master Rilvayn spots me looking, speaks quietly to the visitors, who nod briefly, and starts to walk rapidly towards me.

"Thanks for coming so quickly Sarvayn." she says. I nod, in what I hope is a respectful manner.

"Would you come and join us for a moment please?"

"Of course, Master Rilvayn."

"Good," she replies, and starts walking towards them, I fall in step just behind her. "The Legion was here when I arrived." We reach the uniformed men, and Rilvayn gestures politely towards them. "Sarvayn, may I present the Legion Champion, Larrius Varro, and Trooper, I'm sorry, what was your name again?"

"Scerius." A very young legionnaire replies, staring downwards, his eyes seemingly unable to meet those of either Master Rilvayn or me.

"Of course, my apologies." Rilvayn says smoothly. "And Trooper Scerius." She turns to me, and says, "Sarvayn, you will be interested to learn that it was Trooper Scerius here that was the first on the scene."

"Really." I reply, looking at him more closely. He still does not look me in the eyes. "That is interesting."

"Gentlemen, this is Brother Sarvayn, one of our Guild's lead investigators."

Varro steps forward, and holds his hand out to me. I extend mine and he shakes it vigorously, the skin on his hands rough to the touch, while I attempt to examine him unobtrusively. He is stocky and well built, obviously powerful, and possesses keen and intelligent eyes. His hair is short and neat, and his clothes well cared for but not new. I realise as I study him that he is studying me, and I feel myself inadvertently smile. His eyes study me a second longer, and the smile is returned. "The legendary Sarvayn's reputation leads before him. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, though I must admit, I thought you would be taller." he says, his voice deep and resonant. "And please allow us to express our condolences for the loss of your colleagues."

"Thank you," I answer and clear my throat quietly. "If I may be allowed to ask you a potentially indelicate question?"

"Of course."

"What exactly is the Legions involvement here?"

"Ah." Varro smiles at this. "At the moment it is just a matter of courtesy. We are well aware that the Morag Tong would prefer to deal with this situation," he pauses briefly, looking at myself then Rilvayn. "Personally. And I can see no reason why our involvement should become immediately necessary."

"For which we are most appreciative." Master Rilvayn says.

"Indeed," replies Varro. "I am also well aware of Brother Sarvayn's reputation, having followed some of his previous cases with interest. I assumed he would not want a troop of Legion soldiers traipsing through his crime scene."

"For which I am most appreciative." I say, nodding my head towards him in acknowledgement. "Can you tell me what happened here?"

Varro turns his head, nods sharply, and says, "Trooper Scerius?"

"Yes sir." The young trooper looks directly into my eyes for the first time. "We were patrolling at the fort in the early hours of this morning, when a gentleman came running towards us. Apparently this gentleman, a Redguard living in the area, had seen several figures departing," he stops. I look over to Rilvayn as the legionnaire searches in his pockets for something. After a couple of seconds he produces a notebook with a vaguely triumphant air, looks at Varro, and blushes at the look of disapproval he is receiving. "Sorry sir," he says, "I just want to get this exactly right." He finds his place on the page and reads, "had seen several figures departing rapidly from the building. The doors of the building were wide open, and it would seem he could not resist a look. At this point, he came to us in a great panic. We immediately left the fort and rushed into town. We shortly arrived at the scene, and entered the building, seeing the bodies on the floor. We then went to the Hlaalu Council Manor, and informed one Nileno Dorvayn of what we had found. She assured us that she would alert the Hlaalu guards."

"Excuse me, Trooper Scerius," I say, in as friendly a voice as I can manage. I smile at him reassuringly. "Do you mind if I interrupt you there?"

He looks at me with some trepidation, then stands to attention and says, "No, not at all."

"The witness," I say. "The Redguard gentleman. You said he came running out to the fort to alert you?"

"That is correct sir."

"Why didn't he alert the Hlaalu guards themselves?" I ask.

The trooper pauses, and looks uncomfortable. I look at Varro, and raise my eyebrows questioningly.

"Answer the question Scerius." Varro says.

"Yes sir." He looks at me and says very clearly, "He could not find them."

"They weren't patrolling the streets?" Rilvayn asks.

"It would seem not," replies the trooper.

Varro looks at me, and smiles crookedly. "Most interesting, is it not?"

"It is indeed." I pause, as I try to make sense of this information, and turn back to the young trooper. "Sorry Trooper, please continue with your account."

"That is pretty much it." He consults his notebook, finding his place with his finger. "After alerting the local guards, we sent one member of our patrol to alert Champion Varro here, and we stood by the outside of the building. We did not let anybody else in or out until he arrived." He stops, and snaps his notebook shut.

"You did well Trooper." I say, smiling at him, and Rilvayn makes a noise of agreement by my side. The trooper looks at Varro, and smiles.

"Very good Scerius," says Varro. "Trooper, if you could wait outside, whilst we talk for a few minutes."

"Yes sir." Scerius turns, and walks smartly out of the room, into the rain outside.

"Very promising recruit," I say encouragingly.

"Very keen and very young," replies Varro with a sigh. "If he stays alive for a couple of years, he will make an excellent soldier. Now, there was one other thing I wanted to discuss, that I thought was best not heard by anyone else."

A/N - This is just a short update, as I've broken the scene into three to make it flow better. Well, that's the aim anyway

- - - - - - - - - -

Master Rilvayn frowns. “Oh? That sounds ominous.”

“Well, as I mentioned earlier,” Varro says, “our policy is to try not to intervene in your investigations. However, the circumstances surrounding this case are different, you would agree? We are dealing with an attack on the Morag Tong, in their own house of all places, and for it to happen right in the middle of the city. I’m sure you understand our concerns.”

Nobody speaks. I am looking at Rilvayn as she just looks at Varro, her face expressionless. Varro looks at her, and then looks across at me. He starts to look uncomfortable, unsure how to take the lack of response.

“I understand.” I say, taking pity on him. “Unless we get this resolved the Legion will be put under pressure to take control and solve it. They can’t have citizens panicking as murderers run loose in Balmora. Close?

“Virtually verbatim.” He replies with relief. “I wasn’t sure you understood.”

“We just don’t take well to being threatened.” Master Rilvayn answers, her expression still a mask.

“Threatened?” Varro says, in an injured tone. “I promise you that nobody from our end is threatening you. We are merely asking for your cooperation.”

I restrain from snorting with disbelief with some difficulty, ineffectually attempting to mask it as a cough. From the look on Varro’s face, it does not fool him for a second.

“How long before you are pressured to act?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I do not believe there is any need to put a timescale on this yet. I would of course appreciate it if you could keep me updated.” He pauses, as he tries to decide how to phrase his next comment, the indecision plainly visible across his features. “So I can keep my superiors in the loop you see.”

“And hope the information you receive will stop them making any rash decisions.”

He inclines his head in a small bow towards me, and smiles slightly, a brief tug at his mouth that disappears almost immediately. “Now, if I can be of further assistance?”

“Yes, there is one thing I wish to ask.” I reply quickly. “The trooper mentioned that the man who alerted your guards witnessed the crime. Did he give you a description of the figures he saw?”

Varro shrugs. “Not a very good one.”

“What did he see?”

“What did he see? Let me think.” He raises his right hand, his eyes staring off into space, and rubs his cheek. There is a faint scratching sound, as his calloused skin rubs against unshaven stubble. “He saw, and I quote, several figures that were all running quickly away from the building. This you may find interesting. They were all dressed in black and all wearing black helms that covered their faces. Or so he claims.”

Rilvayn spits on the floor in disgust. “The Dark Brotherhood.”

“Maybe.” I reply. “Maybe not.”

“What do you mean?”

“Finding black clothes is easy. If you wanted to attack a Morag Tong guildhall, and place suspicion on someone else, who would you choose?”

She thinks for a second, and slowly nods her head. “I see your logic there, although I would not put it past them to try to double bluff. You are ruling it out?”

“Of course not. I can’t rule out anything at this stage, I just want to keep all our options open.” I turn to Varro, who is listening closely. “You would agree?”

“I would say that is very wise.” Varro replies. “Especially given how careless they were in allowing themselves to be seen.”

“Yes, that thought did occur.” I look at him closely for a second, then say, “With regards to keeping you updated, you understand that I will have to speak to the Grandmaster of our order first?”

“I expected nothing less.”

I nod. “I will do my best.”

He smiles, and extends his hand to me. “All I can ask.” I meet his hand in the space between us, and we shake politely. He turns to Rilvayn and repeats the formality. "Master Rilvayn, Sera Sarvayn. Now, if you would excuse me, it is time I was heading back to the fort.”

I seem to have forgotten to mention this anywhere, so let me rectify that.

Feedback is both welcome and appreciated

I said this elsewhere and I mean it, I found the beginning part interesting. But I don't know... just didn't grab me. The story itself, though, I love. Read it a long time ago.

Ahem. I think it's time I kick off my return to TES FF with one of my patented "friggin' long" critiques.

Generic disclaimer: Please note that the following critique is an attempt at constructive criticisim, and is not meant to put down the writer or his/her work. It is meant to illuminate the writer's strengths and weaknesses, and the simple fact that it's so damned long should be testament to how much potential said writer obviously has. However, this critique is also the expression of a single poster's opinion, and should be taken with a grain of salt. If you don't agree with something I bring up, go ahead and ignore it. I will not be insulted if you do.

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First things first: your mechanics are sound. More than sound. I caught a couple punctuation errors and stumbled over two choppy sentences. That is really, really impressive, because I'm usually a stickler for mechanics. :goodjob:

The dialogue in the second part really struck me, for some reason. There are wonderfully subtle undercurrents going on--things said and unsaid--that make it intriguing. That whole thing with the poor trooper is written absolutely beautifully. It's all very formal and official, but you get little peeks at all the characters through their actions and word choices.

In the second part, I also found the apparent distance between the narrator and the reader interesting. It matches well with the voice in the introduction ("clinical" does seem like a good word for it). It's a first person pov, but it's still distant, without to much emotion and internal revelation to give you insight to a character that probably shouldn't be seen into just yet. This seems to fit, and is, again, intriguing. I feel like a fish nibbling at a baited hook, here. A happy fish, though.

Further, I stand in awe of the way you've started the story. Everyone knows that one of the best ways to start a story is to have someone die, especially under suspicious circumstances. However, this device often done clumsily, in an obvious way to generate suspense and pull readers into the story. Not so with this one. Here, it feels like this really is where the story should start. It's handled with the perfect balance of distance and character involvement. You're really very skilled at this; I hope to see more.

I agree with Rumpleteasza, in that this really does seem like the sort of book you'd find in the game. A series of books, even, that you'd collect from the corners of Vvardenfel and stack on a bed somewhere. It's just something about the voice and mode of presentation. This is a good thing, as it seems that this character really could be integrated into the world.

However, I also agree with redsrock: the introduction just didn't grab me. Don't get me wrong: the first chapter definitely DID. This is merely a matter of personal preference: I heavily favor dialogue and other forms of character interaction to internal reflection. I find extended reflection dry, and somewhat difficult to handle, especially when dealing primarily with generalizations. I think it's part of the "show, don't tell" thing writers are always hearing about: I prefer to SEE characterization through their actions and words, instead of being told what the characters are like.

One way to would make it more interesting might be to speckle the intro with specific details, descriptions, and dialogue... but that would entirely ruin the whole "clinical" effect, and it probably wouldn't match well with what you're trying to do. I did find the "This is not an invitation to do so" line delightful, so perhaps emphasizing the character a bit more would have helped. Again, it's a matter of showing his personality, instead of simply telling it. Again, this is a personal preference on my part, so you're probably better off leaving it as is.

Another nitpicky detail: I like having a good mental picture of characters, but find little to go on here. We know your main character is male, and that he is almost certainly a Dunmer. However, other than that, the story lacks any indication of what he looks like. I recognize that it would probably break the character's voice for him to break in and start describing himself. Chances are, he doesn't care what he looks like, but there are other ways to describe a character's appearance. Have him compare someone's features to his own, thus implying his own features, or have someone comment on a scar, or his hollowed-out-eyes, or anything else about him that might stick out. It's probably not important to you, but you're a good enough writer that I'm allowed to be nitpicky.

So, yeah, I'm definitely intrigued, although it took a bit of wading through philosophizing and a quick personal history to get there. Hope that helps. :dance:

My saying feedback is both welcome and appreciated feels a little inadequate in light of that. Feedback of that sort is relished! Seriously, thank you ever so much for taking the time to read and compose your thoughts in such detail.



Gone back and checked. I think I have caught the punctuation errors, and I will reread more closely to see if I can catch the choppy sentences you mentioned.



:nod: I am in full agreement there. I was originally going to have him giving some self description through the use of an action, but you're absolutely right, having it done through interaction with another character is much more subtle. I will get working on that!



No immediate ideas are coming to mind, but I will certainly keep thinking and see if I can come up with a way of keeping the tone, whilst demonstrating his personality more. Food for thought...



It most certainly does! I feel all inspired and motivated now! I'll try bribing you with cookies, to see if I can get you to come back in the future. :cookie: Once again, thank you. Made my day that has :hugs:

Following on from some of BSparrow's comments, I have made some edits, alterations and additions to the first few posts. Hopefully this will give readers a slightly clearer picture to work with. It might still be a little reflective for some tastes, and when I have a solution to that, I will come back and edit. For now, I have made improvements (or what I at least hope are improvements) where I could.

I plan on posting the next update to this tomorrow. It's gone through what I hope will be it's final editing tonight, but I want to sleep on it, to see if any garish errors leap out at me when I return.

Once again, my thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read this, and I hope you enjoy it, and my thanks and gratitiude for those who have responded.

Sierra

Master Rilvayn and I both turn and watch as Varro walks briskly across the room, opens the door, and steps resolutely out into the rain with a grimace. From outside I notice sounds that make me realise just how quiet it is in the Guildhall. Along with the sound of the heavy rain hitting the ground, there is a murmur of voices, loud enough to suggest that quite a crowd has grown. The head of a male Dunmer pokes through the door, I recognise him as one of the Guild based here, although his name escapes me. At a signal from Rilvayn next to me, he nods, and closes the door, remaining on the outside. All the noise stops abruptly, and silence falls again. As silent as a tomb is the phrase that pops awkwardly into my head. I turn to Master Rilvayn, and notice for the first time just how tired she looks. Her long grey hair, normally tied back with purpose, is loose and straggly, and under her eyes are dark rings, signalling a lack of sleep. I catch myself wondering just how old she actually is, at this moment she seems considerably older than I have ever seen her look before. She turns towards me and says, “So, what do you want to do first?”

“I need to take a closer look at the bodies, before I do anything else.”

She nods and we walk side by side over to where the corpses lay. Master Rilvayn and I are both silent, sharing the unspoken moment of grief. My mind instinctively starts to recite from the Tong recruitment book, The Black Glove, “Do you have your friends and your finery, but no place to go? Do you laugh and cry, but no longer feel?” Those words that had called out to me with such power, as I had sought direction and purpose, had spoken to these four people too. Four dead Morag Tong are in front of us, four comrades who have taken the same oaths and chosen the same code to live by as ourselves. With effort, I gain control back over my emotions and force myself to concentrate on the specific details at hand.

“Looks like I need to take a quick trip up to the fort before I go.” I say, shaking my head.

“Why?”

“Varro said the witness was a Redguard gentleman, correct?”

“Yes, that is right.”

I smile without humour, and point at the bodies. “We have three Redguards here, and the only witness is a Redguard. I think that deserves exploring.”

“It could be just a coincidence.”

“It could be, but I tend to distrust coincidences. Redguards are natural warriors; they are not renowned as natural assassins. Not that I am suggesting they are not capable of course, just that my job is to seek out patterns and spot inconsistencies, and this is looking like both. What can you tell me about them?”

“What do you want to know?” She replies, spreading her arms out from the sides. “Can you be more specific?”

“Are they all from here? I do not recognise most of them.” I kneel down next to the closest body, and lean forwards. “Is this Nachael?” I ask. “I seem to recall I met him once before when I was passing through Balmora.”

“Yes, that is Nachael. The one to his left is Hickim; he too is a member in Balmora, although he preferred to stay at The Lucky Lockup than here. The female Redguard here,” she points over to the far right of room, “is from the guildhall in Ald'ruhn, she is called Ancola.” She stops and shakes her head abruptly, her mouth twisting down. “Was called Ancola I should say, and the Bosmer there at the back of the room is a new initiate. I do not know his name I am afraid.”

“New?” I turn my head in the direction she is pointing and stare, and push myself upright again. It takes more effort than it should, my muscles are still stiff from the journey, and my knees crack in displeasure.

She nods, and runs both her hands through her hair, pulling it back off her forehead. “From what I was told, he joined just a few weeks ago. He was shadowing Ancola in Ald'ruhn to gain experience.”

“So, why is he in Balmora?”

“I do not know. They had not sent me warning that they were coming. Ancola may have been friends with Hickim and Nachael though. I am not sure.”

“Were Hickim and Nachael friends?”

“I believe so, yes.”

“What are their records like?” I ask.

“Competent.” She stops, and looks at me in the eyes. Her right hand moves to her cheek, before she catches the movement and returns it to her side. “I have had no complaints with their work. Hickim and Nachael I mean. I cannot speak for the other two.”

Alarm bells are ringing in my mind now, and I focus all my attention on her. “And their personal lives?”

“I am not sure. I will ask around for you, see if any of the others know more about them. I am not trying to make excuses,” she says, raising her hand defensively, “but I try to maintain a little distance. It is hard to maintain authority if you get too close.” There is a pause. “Well, that has been my experience anyway.”

“I am not judging you, Master Rilvayn. I have no doubts you run a professional guildhall here.” I smile at her, and add in a conciliatory tone, “Quite the contrary, your reputation is superb. I would certainly appreciate you asking around the other members, see if they know anything that might be useful.”

“Of course.”

I nod my thanks, and turn my attention back to the bodies on the floor. “I think it is time for me to walk the scene, before I have to head back to Vivec.”

“I will clear the room for you.” She says, and starts to move towards the door. “Let me know when you are done, so we can dispose of the bodies.”

“Master Rilvayn?” I ask. She turns, and looks at me questioningly. “Is there anything you want me to tell the Grandmaster when I see him?”

She looks at the bodies. After a pause, she says, “No.” Her eyes meet mine once again, and this time I see the anger blazing in them. “Just catch whoever did this. Catch them and make an example of them.”

“Nothing would give me more pleasure Master Rilvayn.” I reply, and I realise that I mean it.

Oh, a mystery! I LOVE mysteries ^_^ And this one seems especially juicy.

I agree with BSparrow, I would love to have some more tidbits on Kausha. I like the way you are setting this up. Dialogue-driven stories are my favourite kinds, and the conversations you've created are very engaging. You put lots of little nuances into gesture and expression that help capture the mood - one thing that stood out to me, I don't know why, was this:

"Competent." She stops, and looks at me in the eyes. Her right hand moves to her cheek, before she catches the movement and returns it to her side.

I just felt moments like that painted a really effective, simple picture of the mood between the two of them.

Also, this may be an odd comment, but I really like the chapter lengths. I can never seem to get mine below 2,000 words and it can be really off-putting to be faced with a huge block of text, particularly if you're reading from a screen. So I'm enjoying being fed in small bites :hehe:

More please!

I am no one to tell you what was wrong or right in these chapters, as I am a humble apprentice in the art of story writing. I simply lack the experience of telling you what could be improved or "polished". My english is also not the best, as you surely have noticed (it is not my mothertounge), so that I can't tell what grammatical, ortographical or punctual mistakes have been made. As far as I have seen, it is flawless.

I have nothing to criticize, no suggestions to make you work even better. So why do I write this post? I'll tell you why: Just to tell you I LOVED what i read. Easy to understand, easy to follow, intriguing, enthralling, and other words my vocab knowledge just can't express. That is what i think about your work. Really good job. Keep up the good work! :goodjob:

That introduction feels more like something you'd read at a graduation from the school of Tong. Too many generalities and perspectives that I get the impression this assassin wouldn't go into. What I think you should do is have someone else write an introduction for him. Since he's doing this for the grandmaster, have the grandmaster write it. The master can easily boast about the assassin's talents, tell what he looks like, and give the gravitas of authority that this needs to be required reading in the guild.

You've probably never heard of this book, but someone wrote a book called http://www.amazon.com/Specialist-Revelations-Counterterrorist-Gayle-Rivers/dp/0812830342 under the name Gayle Rivers. In it the author tells about dozens of mercenary missions he's been on and wraps up the chapters or sections with what should be taken from that experience. This story of yours is already shaping up to be a longer story rather than a series of short ones like his, but you could apply that style to it since we know he's writing it for other Morag Tong members.

Right, the story. Red lights let people know this is a place of assassins? Not where I'm from.

Just throwing this out there: If someone can read, I would think they could get a better job than as a legionare. Where's he getting all that education and spare paper pads? For the Redguard reporting the crime, I think you could have had something funny there. Have him try to report it to the murders to the local guards, then they just laugh at him. "People were assassinated at the assassins guild? Haha! What's next, people are getting hand jobs at the brothel?" except that wouldn't help your mystery.

You actually went with the "I thought you would be taller" line? Are they going to head someone off at the pass next?

I'd say the people involved with this story so far would polite as you have shown them without being apologetic. Sarvayn both asks permission to interrupt and apologizes for interrupting. Nobody is that polite unless they fear the person they're talking to. At the wrap of that section Varro shouldn't say there is something else to discuss, he should say there is more to discuss. They're on the same subject.

Ehh, this moves into something outside the story, but didn't you find the Brotherhood style in Morrowind and Oblivion to be goofy? Why would assassins have uniforms? They've gotta get around places too, dressing like that is hella suspicious. The Daggerfall Brotherhood played it low-key. You do have the double-blind angle running though, so maybe you're making fun of the Todd era games? Dunno.

I think the interaction between Sarvayn and Rilvayn (oh look at those names there) should be something more to the tune of "Go examine the bodies". Rilvayn might be better shown if she's trying to tell him how to do his job because she wants to help and is needing to feel like she's in control of something (since she doesn't have a grip on her guildhall). You can also build Sarvayn's character with this, as he can either chafe against it to break her out of the funk and get on with things, or he can do what she wants out of respect and then work his own way once he's out of there.

I don't know if you intended this, but you didn't use contractions for several words and it makes it seem aloof and dated in a couple places.
Not that this is the whole list of ones you could make contractions with, but you're almost avoiding them. Maybe a smoother mix in the tank would avoid the issue.

Keep it rockin'.

Yes, that is intentional.



No, I'm not, and again that line is intentional. Even if I have blatantly ripped it off Escape From LA. I can understand why you've picked up on it though...



Do I want to know what red lights signify where you're from? Anyway, it's clear that the point he's making there, is instead of the usual red light, there's a harsh yellow light, and that feels wrong to him. Not look through my red windows, and see an assassin slowly undress for you.



Thought about that when I first started this, and decided against it. I'd actually played with the academic idea a bit further, with Eno giving a foreword before the introduction, but I decided it was overkill. I'm sticking with the way it is for now, when the story is completed - which isn't on the near horizon by the way - I'll go back and look again.



Same subject - different angle. And he says "one other thing" not "something else". Something else as you say would suggest a seperate topic. One other thing I don't think does. It was originally "One more thing" which would have worked better, but brings up too many memories of Columbo. In a mystery? No, I didn't want that connection being made, as they are not the same.



Hmm, you'd almost think that might signify something wouldn't you? Rilvayn is of course the in-game name, I haven't made that one up. Sarvayn, well I had my reasons for choosing that name, though it won't be explained in the story till near the very end. I don't want to go into that one any further yet, if you don't mind


As always, I appreciate you reading, and I appreciate the feedback. I'm going to exercise my right to not change some of the things you suggested though. The reason for this is the story probably needs to be read whole, so things all make sense. It's a mystery, with an unreliable, first person present tense narrator. Of course some of the things he says might sound strange. He even says in the introduction that he'll try to be truthful, but he couldn't guarantee it. It's up to the reader to decide when he's honest or accurate. There just isn't enough posted of the story to make that kind of judgement yet though. And likewise, there's nowhere near enough posted of the plot to make judgements about that yet. There are a lot of "hooks" I've dropped in (some of which you've picked up on already) which whilst they do get developed, or in some cases will be developed, they don't get anything done with them for quite a long time to come. I've put them there for the reader to absorb into their subconcious, and then later - much later in some cases - resolve/explain them.

Clearly, this is an issue with posting segments up in small bits.

I hope you continue to read, but bear in mind, as plot strands are being added, some may well seem unexplained. Part of the pleasure in a mystery is looking back at the end, and seeing how things were done. I don't want to have to start explaining why certain bits have been added now, why I've made certain choices, when they're utilised at a later date.

I actually have serious reservations about continuing with small updates now, but I cannot see another way of doing it. I simply don't have the time to do it any other way, with working full time and writing non-fanfictions - my fanfic work is done for fun when I have a spare few hours. Whilst it would be best served by being posted and read whole, I know that it isn't going to happen. :shrug:

Rumpleteaza and BSparrow have already made many of the points I wanted to, so I won't repeat what they said. Instead, having clicked and read on the link in your earlier post, I want to make a point about white arms - all non gunpowder weapons.

Now, I suspect that you have not sparred with sword and shield or sword and dagger or just sword and stick/spear against an opponent IRL, so it is likely that you will make some errors in describing this ancient type of combat. Here are a few tips on combat that may be useful.

As I have already posted to BSparrow, the sword can be divided into three sections: the top third for attack, the middle third for parries, and the lower third for blocks. This is the most efficient way to use a sword.

When you attack, you use the top third of your sword to either chop, slice, or thrust. These are the three basic blows.

A chop is nearly always from head to ground, with the shoulder to hip strike being the second most common. It is usually used by experts only when the opponent is almost defeated or when the opponent is wildly off balance and wide open, as the wind up for the chop exposes much of your own body. Notice you use the lower half of the top of the blade in the chop, almost down to the third mark, for the best damage to your opponent. Also, you put your strength into the chop just before the blade hits your opponent. Thus a chop is somewhat slow. Essentially, you are using your sword as an axe.

A slice is different from a chop: you sweep the edge of the blade as fast as you can towards the opponent, and after it penentrates his body you draw the blade across the wound and slightly back towards yourself. This creates a sawing effect that widens the wound greatly. You throw all your strength into the slice from the very beginning, which means your blade moves faster in a slice attack than in a chop attack. Also, you use the attack part of the sword as far towards the tip as you can, since speed is the key to the slice and the tip of your sword is the part that is travelling at the fastest speed. Note that unless you have a very heavy and sharp sword, slices are not very effective against steel armour, although leather doesn't slow down the well-delivered slice much. Curved swords perform much better than straight ones in the slice.

Furthermore, since a slice can be efficiently made from all angles from 0 to 180, (unlike a chop, which is only effective from angles 60 to 120 or so) it is used much, much more often than a chop in combat. Especially combat with multiple enemines. As is explained below...

A thrust is used frequently in single combat, but rarely with combat with multiple enemies. The reason is that a sucessful thrust means that your weapon is unavailable for at least two to as many as five or ten seconds - the time taken to withdraw a weapon from an opponent's body. There are exceptions, of course: if you are using a thrusting sword like a flexible rapier or a tapered longsword that tapers to a point from a broad base at the hilt, withdrawing a sword is much faster, especially if you twist the sword as it goes in so that not only is the wound channel enlarged but you can withdraw from a sucessful thrust much more easily.

Note that while recovering your balance from a chop or thrust is relatively slow, recovery from a slice is much faster. Another reason why slice attacks are used almost exclusively against multiple enemies.

A note on the rapier: this breaks easily against axes, maces, or even a heavy longsword. NOT the weapon you want to have in your hand when facing enemies, especially multiple enemies, armed with axes and such. This is why rapiers are mainly dueling, not war weapons. It attacks and recovers very fast, though - definitely a weapon for the sword stylist.

The tapered longsword is much stronger, and is especially efficient in defeating heavy armour. A point to keep in mind.

On defense: as I have mentioned above, the middle third of your sword is used for parries, and the lower third is used for blocks.

In parries, you step out of the way of an attack (dodge) while at the same time knocking and deflecting your enemy's weapon away (parry). This is the favoured defense technique of the swordsman since it damages your own weapon least, it leads your opponent off balance, and it leaves your own weapon and your body balance ready for either defense or attack.

In a block, you stand rigid for strength, and try to catch the upper part of his sword with the lower part of yours. This gives you a leverage advantage, as well as jarring his wrist more than yours when the swords come into contact! Furthermore from an efficient block you can wind your sword around his, and lever it right out of his hands, or at least open his guard enough for a sucessful slice.

This is only a primer on sword fighting, but I think you - and all those who read this - can use this to inject a note of realism in combat scenes.

But please, remember too that the writer - namely you, in this instance - has complete freedom to choose or reject any and all advice.

Oh, have I mentioned that I enjoy your story, and will continue to read it episode by episode as it comes out?

:thumbsup:

:poke:

Not enough updates dude. Let's roll em' out! :deal:

Ach, sorry. I've been working on it a bit this weekend, so... yeah. I'll have something up in a day or two. I've got bogged down in a gaping plot hole I hadn't noticed in my outline, which one of my writer's group sadly DID notice. Which was a bit of a bugger, as it was a fairly large part of the story. Oh well. Better to catch it now than later. It's just taking a bit of working out, so I've been spending more of my time on this re-outlining than actually writing.

Will get my act together and post the next part as soon as I can!

Very nice :goodjob: It's not often we get to see good, quality stories anymore. I would love to sit down and write a long critique for this, but I find that everything I want to say has already been said Oh well, I suppose all I can say now is thanks for writing, and keep up the good work

PS Curse you guys, you forced me to make a generic "good job" post. I hate doing that :flame:

I am a very bad doggie and have been terribly remiss in not commenting earlier. You create a distinctive atmosphere without wasting words. I like the brevity of the descriptions, and how you manage exposition without breaking the flow of the story. First-person is hard- first-person mystery even more so. You manage it with skill and style.

As the door closes behind me, I turn around and face the bodies. I walk forwards, into the centre of the room, and stop. Closing my eyes, I slowly swivel my head anti-clockwise, my body stationary, removing the tension that has built up in my neck and shoulders. I open my eyes, and slowly rotate my entire body through three hundred and sixty degrees, allowing my gaze to fall on every part of the room as I turn. I focus on the layout of the bodies on the floor, the items that are on the desks, access points to the building, potential hiding places, and then close my eyes. When I am sure that I have a vividly clear mental picture frozen in my memory, I smile with satisfaction, and open my eyes once more. Much of what my job entails requires making sure that I have those images to hand, and then allowing my subconscious to make sense of what they show. I turn back to the entrance door, and walk toward it. From there I walk slowly through the room, heading to the stairs that lead upwards at the far end. No other entrances on this floor, nowhere else the killers could have entered. I nod, and walk upstairs.

At the landing is a door to the right, which I remember well. It was there that I dealt with the awkward case involving the deposited body of Methas Hlaalu. Not my finest hour, I recall grimly, and my having to drag that cursed body through the streets of Balmora in the midst of night was a direct result of there being no exit down there. Still, there is always the possibility of building alterations having taken place in the interim. I reach into a gap in my robe, pull out my dagger from its sheath, grasp the door handle firmly and open the door. The faint sound of scratching and high-pitched squeals alarms me, and I tense up defensively as my eyes slowly adapt to the darkness. With my hand on the handle still, I cannot help but laugh. It appears that I have discovered the new food storage area, judging by the sacks of saltrice and hackle-lo leaf, the rats that I have just disturbed in the midst of their feast scurrying away and the unpleasant scent of an unidentified rotting meat. Feeling faintly ridiculous, and relieved that nobody else is around to witness my embarrassment, I put the dagger back in its sheath and close the door.

The top floor, I recall, is where the meetings take place. There are solid wooden chairs set neatly out in a semi-circle, and I walk around the room, carefully studying the walls, the floor and the ceiling. I see no windows, no doors, and no hatches. I stop in the centre of the room and once more slowly turn in a full circle. There are no entrances of any kind. Which means the intruders came through either the front door or teleported in by the use of magick. I can feel the tension returning in my shoulders, a dull ache that seems to spread throughout my body, as I ponder the distressing truth that I am raising even more questions, and getting no closer to any answers. Making a mental note to bring up with the Grandmaster the subject of installing magickal wards to protect the guildhalls in future, I head back downstairs to examine the bodies themselves.

Back in the main hall, I spend the first couple of minutes preparing myself. I start by looking in the desks and appointment books. Although there is nothing so far to suggest that the attack was in any way related to any of the ongoing writs, I cannot rule the possibility out. I pull paper, quill and ink out of my bag, and jot down all the most recent entries. The contents of the desks reveal nothing out of the ordinary, the usual assortment of lock picks, paper and copies of the Black Hand, the same contents I have seen in every desk at every guildhall. Satisfied that my examination has been thorough, I carry some fresh sheets of paper and my quill across to the first body.

To begin with, I sketch the position of the bodies on the ground. I am looking out for several signs when I do this. Did the bodies’ fall where they lay or were they placed, and if placed why? Does the placement tell me something significant; is it the beginning of an unspoken dialogue with the killers? If they did indeed die in their current placement, what were they doing when the attack began? Were they together, avoiding each other, working, drinking, or working out whom to bet on at the Arena in Vivec? There are so many possibilities that can give me a sense of their personalities, and what their mindset was at the exact moment of attack. The sketches I draw from three perspectives, a bird’s eye view, the view from the front door, and the view from the bottom of the stairs. When I finish these, I put the paper to one side, and crouch down by the bodies themselves.

I start with the body of Nachael, as he is closest to the entrance. I check the body, now cold to the touch of my fingers, for bruises and marks, as well as the fatal wounds themselves. Next, I carefully smell the corpse in case there are any lingering scents, though I do not really expect to find any, which would suggest the administering of poison. After that examination, I write down every detail, long experience having taught me not to trust my memory with such important details, and search through the dead man’s pockets. I am checking for items that seem incongruent, such as extravagant and expensive jewellery, large sums of money, anything that could be out of character. My final check is to see what happened to Nachael’s weapon. I find it on the floor nearby, no blood on the blade, which suggests that he had been alerted to the danger and drawn his dagger, but had been struck down before he had been able to use it. The diagnosis I feel is in correlation with the expression on his face, which predominantly shows a frozen mask of surprise, rather than panic, fear or anger. I write these details down and move across to the next body to repeat the procedure.

I was writing my story some tonight and was a bit depressed about it when I saw your new segment here and it perked me up. Rock on.

He turned his head anti-clockwise? Bad Sierra! They don't have clocks like that in Tamriel. Magic allowed them to jump straight to digital am/fm clock radios. Everybody has one.

The storyteller is tense while relating the details, going through it in a procedural manner. Of course he's doing this to help the trainees, but this style makes it odd to have him say something like "I smile with satisfaction" or have him laughing about tension with rats.

The meeting room without windows and doors other than the one door means there's no light or ventilation in there. The lack of light would be pretty rockin so everyone has to use nightvision spells in there, but the ventilation becomes a problem when someone has gas. A little note about how they manage that, I think, would help.

No problems on where the story is going, I'm enjoying it. There's just things I wonder about here and there in the story. Last couple: I think people lose control of their muscles when they die, such that they can't look too surprised. Maybe a little happy or a little depressed, but I don't know about more than that.

He might look at the bodies for signs of Livor Mortis to determine the time of death. They might also be going through Rigor Mortis, so you could say it made searching their bodies more difficult.

It is the small things that I like- the memory of having to drag a body all the way down the stairs and through the town, the awareness that magical means can be used to commit murder. Continue, please?

Cheers Treydog! I have something coming up a little later that I think (not that I'm biased or anything ) is rather clever in terms of the use of magick, and how it might have been realistically used. Oh, okay, I am biased...



Depressed? Why? Anyway, glad it perked you up, means there might be another installment of The Pail Rider to read soon



Oops. Isn't it strange how little terms like "clockwise" can slip through the editing? I'm so used to the word I never noticed it. Will fix.



Aah, thank you. Yes, you're quite right, and you've just reminded me of two other points I'd meant to mention in that segment that I forgot to - the pattern of the blood splatter and the description of the wounds themselves. Thanks!