3E433, 15th Mid Year, Molag Amur.
This life is beginning to become tiresome. The duties of Protector of Morrowind, tedious. I doubt the Dunmer need me any more, nor would miss me if I disappeared. I have slain thousands of monsters, washed my boots in the blood of villains and fools, and for what? It's enough to make an Altmer feel old. I need a new project, something to distract my wandering mind.

3E433, 17th Mid Year, Tel Uvirith.
Experiments in replicating Dwemer Centurions so far have yielded mixed results. When imbued with magical energies the constructs are able to replicate the behaviour of the soul used to charge it. Guar souls lead to docile conduct from the Animunculi, Kagouti souls lead to mindless aggression. However, the effect is only temporary. Even using Dwemer material I have been unable to replicate the permanent steam mechanism that powers the device in perpetuity. I will head to Nchuleftingth later in the week to dissect some authentic constructs.

3E433, 18th Mid Year, Tel Uvirith.
Frustration. The cursed Mages Guild has sealed Nchuleftingth 'until further notice'. This is not the first time these s'wits have hindered my research. I could dispose of them, but as Hircine would say, it seems 'less than sporting'.

3E433, 19th Mid Year, Balmora.
I hear rumours that a Steam Guardian has been spotted by a hapless adventurer swimming south of Ebonheart. It is worth investigation.

3E433, 19th Mid Year, Mudan.
I remember this place. I also vaguely remember slaying a Steam Guardian in its depths.

3E433, 19th Mid Year, Mudan Vault.
Some foolish fetcher has looted this place from top to bottom. Nothing of arcane value remains. I shall return to Tel Uvirith, and perhaps take a respite from my research.

3E433, 20th Mid Year, Tel Uvirith.
Farena passes on a message, from Caius Cosades. Apparently he has a unique opportunity to offer me, an experience to rank along my exploits in Mournhold and Solstheim. Hopefully the sugar-addled Cyrodiil speaks the truth.

Looks good. Continue, please.

More More!!! I can't get enough of your journal entries! - Awesome as usual, I am addicted to your writing, lol.

3E433, 21st Mid Year, Balmora.
Back where it all began. Back where I was first shackled, where my name was buried under the name of a Chimer who lived centuries ago. Caius had a most unique proposal for me. An opportunity that will far exceed killing golden [censored]s, or even battling men-wolves. The land of dragons, Akavir. A suicide mission for anyone of lesser ability, but perfect for my corprus-addled blood. Imagine the power that is to be discovered, artefacts beyond the dreams of even Fyr, arcane wells of might untapped by merfolk. How could I refuse? I cast off the legions of worshipping fools and the chains of prophecy to stain the fields of a foreign land red. A strange parallel to my arrival in this land.
Caius has entrusted me with a dreamsleeve glyph, able to transmit across vast distances through realms unknown by the living. Unfortunately I will not be able to receive any messages - to allow a receiving glyph to fall into the hands of the enemy would be disastrous. I will arrange transportation from Port Telvannis, after I have concluded Council business.

3E433, 23rd Mid Year, Sadrith Mora.
A Council meeting. I announce my intention to resign from the position of Archmagister. I wish Ayron to be my successor, although that stubborn woman Dratha vetoed the proposition. I will have to pay a private visit to the good Mistress immediately. The other matter passed unanimously; the ancient rites of Sadrith Mora are to be enforced more vigorously. Only Telvanni oathsmen, or those with written passes, may enter. In light of the ban this seems to be the most prudent policy, we do not want more outsiders meddling in our affairs.

3E433, 24th Mid Year, Tel Mora.
I do not think Mistress Dratha will be in a position to participate in Council matters henceforth. The Council will hold the vote again, immediately. I have instructed Theman to represent my vote, in the affirmative. In the meantime, I shall prepare for my departure.

3E433, 25th Mid Year, Tel Uvirith.
Another assassin. An Argonian, this time. I mounted his head with the others at the door. I was going to hurl his body into the lava, as I do not want lizard corpses fouling up the place. Felana asked for it, however, as her cousin is a netchman and can use the skin to make leather. The rest of him she'll sell to Necromancers. Perhaps he will be of some use in death.

3E433, 26th Mid Year, Vos.
Have managed to secure passage to the Isles. From there, I can begin my journey to Akavir. In a way I shall miss the towering mushrooms and twisted towers of my adopted homeland, but the chance is simply too great to squander.

Oh, this was great:



You are brilliant with details, this was just one example of how much thought you put into one fact and draw it out into a mini- story! Awesome!!!!

3E433, 30th Mid Year, At sea.
Have procured transportation to the continent of Akavir. We've been at sea for some time now. The captain assures me we will be at sea for a good few months. I don't relish the time I spend with these uncouth sailors, time I could be spending doing research. The ignorant fools have prohibited my continued experimentation with Dwemer constructs as a 'waste of ship resources'.

3E433, 6th Sun's Height, At sea.
By Vivec, this sea life is dull. Nothing to do but untangle rigging and repair sails.

3E433, 17th Sun's Height, At sea.
I am 'forbidden' from using Conjuration and Destruction magic for the rest of my time aboard this crate. How else am I supposed to distract myself? I would throw these idiots overboard, but for the fact that I need them. The sooner we reach Akavir the better.

3E433, 3rd Last Seed, At sea.
I have spotted land. Unfortunately, it isn't Akavir. 145 years ago Uriel V used these pointless juts of rock as a way-point for his invasion. Hopefully my expedition will be more productive.

3E433, 26th Last Seed, At sea.
Finally, after many days at sea, land. I have no idea how my kinsmen stand a life on the ocean, the sooner I set foot on Akavir the better. The captain reports shallow coral reefs and sandbars around the coast, so my plan is to cast Water Breathing, dive overboard and swim to the coast under cover of darkness.

27th Last Seed, 4E433, ?
The ship has gone. The plan worked as expected. The reports were wrong, for there are no coral reefs here, although sandbars that could well ground a ship of our size. I find myself on a shingle beach, my breath visible in the air before me. A snowy forest stretches out before me, inky-black.

27th Last Seed, 4E433, ?
I feel a great chill in my bones, not from the drying seawater about my robes, nor the freezing climate I have found myself in. Almost as if something terrible has occurred. I have a feeling in my heart, the same feeling that swelled my being when I stepped foot onto Vvardenfell so many years ago, as if the thread of prophecy has begun again.

27th Last Seed, 4E433, ?
The blackness penetrates everything. The night is perfectly still, the forest quiet, apart from the rustling caused by my feet as I move through the leaves, to scout inland. I use Nighteye rather than Light, for I do not wish to advertise my position to the unknown beasts of this land. So far I cannot even confirm I am in Akavir. For all I know those wretched sailors have dropped me on the coast of Valenwood, in some grand jest.

28th Last Seed, 4E433, ?
I don't think I'm in Valenwood, for the snow is thick upon the ground. According to the star charts, I have travelled north some distance, although I am unable to pinpoint my precise position on Nirn. I knew I should have studied astronomy more before I departed, my enthusiasm got the better of me.

28th Last Seed, 4E433, ?
Creatures. Bipedal. Large. I go in for a closer look, under a cloak of invisibility.

28th Last Seed, 4E433, ?
By the Heart, such creatures. They stand above even myself, and I am considered fairly lofty even among my brother Altmer. Their shoulders are broader than the stoutest Nord. There are three of the creatures, travelling along a beaten path through the forest, travelling with an odd gait, in a hunched stance. The bodies are covered in white fur, although one appears to be wearing a cuirass of some kind around his barrel-shaped trunk. Another carries what appears to be an axe of a strange, boxy design. Curved black horns spring from atop their low, flat heads. Could they be the Kamal of legend? I can see why they would be known as 'snow demons', for they truly appear as devils made flesh.

28th Last Seed, 4E433, ?
I think I made a mistake in coming here. Especially completely cut-off from any support, any supply, any back-up. For the first time in years I feel trepidation, almost...fear. I must rally my senses, for I have slain gods. Surely no black unknown, no lumbering giants could stop me?

~

Please give me feedback! For criticism is the simplest way we can discover faults about ourselves, and seek to rectify them - or improve and build upon what is good.

I really like what you have wrote, i also like how different the neverine is from lorca, please write more

Thanks very much, since both are Altmer (in my games and my 'universe' as such) it's important to differentiate between them. Whereas Lorcka, from his previous experiences in game and out, has 'settled' and wants out, the Nerevarine through his experiences (particularly with the Telvanni) has a sense of entitlement and (arguably just) feeling of invincibility, arrogance, and the search for power. More coming soon!

If anyone particularly enjoys my writing I now also have a Fallout ff up, called "Africa Shocks".

This is wonderful. I think I'll read your new fallout ff right now.

I will def read your Fallout fanfic after I have quit doing the TES fanfic. I can't keep my mind in Tamriel while wandering the wastelands, lol. I wish this site had a "favorite author" or "favorite story" type thing that would send us emails when a story we are following gets an update. The FanFiction site does, and I get emails on my PC to alert me. I don't know how I missed this yesterday.

You have a real gift for descriptions and detail. In reading your descriptions of battles, areas, creatures, moods - they can easily be visualized, that is a real talent. - example:

As ever Malx, you are too kind. My Fallout story is not about the wasteland, though. It's what happened in other parts of the world after the bombs dropped, which pretty much gives me a free hand.
~

28th Last Seed, 4E433, ?
I have been following these creatures for some time, for Magnus is slowly rising in the sky. Occasionally they appear to converse with each other, but I cannot comprehend their language, a low, guttural-sounding flow unlike anything I have heard before. They also appear to nod and gesture with their colossal hands, indicating that their society and communication is as advanced as the sentient races of Tamriel. At first I thought them akin to the Imga of Valenwood, but they seem far more intelligent, far more dangerous.

28th Last Seed, 4E433, ?
They have stopped. So I have stopped. They sniff at the air, dipping their necks and twisting their heads about. Have they sensed me?

28th Last Seed, 4E433, ?
Thank Vehk, they are moving on. These creatures obviously have, by natural or arcane means, heightened senses. I am increasing the distance between us.

28th Last Seed, 4E433, ?
I have just witnessed the individual wearing a cuirass cast a storm of frost from his fingers, moving his arms in strange contortions to summon forth a most powerful Destruction spell. The deadly, freezing cloud made contact with a strange beast that appeared to me to be like a Nix-Hound, but clad in fur, with an elongated body. The individual with the axe then marched confidently over to the kill, raising the axe above the neck of the beast he brought it down, effortlessly taken the frozen head clean off. The axe-wielder proceeding to sling the frozen carcass over his broad shoulder, a look of grim indifference upon his curious, leathery face. They appear to be a hunting party, which means that they should be attached to a settlement. I will continue to follow.

Another great addition!

28th Last Seed, 3E433, ?
The three have crossed a ferocious river, forded by a bridge of the same cubic design as the axe. While I cannot conclusively say that these creatures are capable of smithwork and architecture it certainly seems as though they are. Another possibility is that, like goblins or Imga of Tamriel, they use what has already been built by other races.

28th Last Seed, 3E433, ?
The road here is much improved from the beaten track through the forest, white paved stones, each exactly equal. The builders of the roads and bridges of this land are obviously skilled mathematicians and stonemasons. The stone appears to be cleaved from the mountains that now loom in the distance. How they transported it is a mystery, but these muscular creatures seem perfectly suited for manual labour. They also have arcane abilities, although whether they can cast complex spells according to needs is unknown.

28th Last Seed, 4E433, ?
They have stopped again, where the road narrows. A cold wind blows at my back. I dash to the side of the road and cast a shield spell around myself, so that my scent doesn't carry. I am still invisible, but with their large nostrils blinding one sense doesn't appear to be much of a guarantee. Snow, as any mage knows, is the natural enemy of the Illusionist, for footprints betray our position, the snow against our personage betraying our invisible outline.

28th Last Seed, 4E433, ?
I'm in trouble. The are not moving on, but crouch and sniff the air, as they did when hunting.

28th Last Seed, 4E433, ?
The Ayem of the group, the cuirass wearing individual who was observed casting destruction seemingly cast a spell on self, for with a deft wave of his colossal finger and a growl an arcane light enshrouded his body in purple. A terrible realisation dawns - Life Detect, it's a Life Detect spell. I must ready my weapons, Trueflame and Hopesfire held akimbo. They will know they were in for a fight if they try me.

28th Last Seed, 4E433, ?
The three are approaching, in a low stance, as if ready to charge. The leader looks me straight at me with his deep, black eyes. I am readying a Dest-

Lorca1 - ARGH! Where are you? Your fans await your next creative jaunt through Tamriel!

Oooh, the suspense is killing me!

Despite the necromancy, I am glad this story was brought to my attention. It is difficult to give criticism on journals, for they seem more summary than story, but as far as journals go this one is pretty good

Really all I can judge is the creativity, characterization, and grammar, and though I spot a few problems most of it is quite good. Though I wonder why he would write as they approach, unless this is a magically kept journal of some sort.

Thanks, and keep up the good work :goodjob:

You can't expect him to write while he's battling


this is amazing, not often do i read something that captures me and keeps me reading to the end

but this has done just that.


i'm also amazed at how well you describe your surroundings and such, with so few words and yet i can always conjure a solid image in my mind of whats going on

I especially love the description of the snow-demons, and the way they behave.

This is not even as Awesome as his "Books By Lorcka" thread, I have taken the liberty of making a link to that thread below. His talent is greatly missed (by me) !!!!


http://www.gamesas.com/bgsforums/index.php?showtopic=1045865&hl=


*

Sorry guys! Been busy. Will start writing again post-haste.

YEAH !!!!!

:woot:

I'll get to work straight away on continuing the Akavir tale. For those wondering, it explains why, in the events of The Infernal City, the Nerevarine and CoC didn't just save everybody. The precursor to this tale, how the Champion came to travel to Akavir, is recounted in the topic "Shadows of Ionith."

In the meantime I've set to work on another Fallout ff, "http://www.gamesas.com/bgsforums/index.php?showtopic=1069418. I've given up on the previous tale, Africa Shocks, because it didn't garner much interest. Please give me feedback on my new tale whilst I get cracking on TES universe!

I have no idea when I am, or where I am. I am fairly confident that the year is still 3E433, but that is all I can be certain of.
I have been unconscious for some time. How long, there is no way to tell. More adapt wizards could perhaps tell based on the deterioration of magical signatures, but I am unable to focus my mysticism skill for such a task. My head throbs, despite my clumsy attempts at restoration. By Vehk, it feels as if I've been beaten about the face by a drunken grahl. The last think I can remember is a charging white blur, then nothing. All around is freezing darkness. Apart from my diary, I have been stripped of all other equipment, robes and armour. My strange captors have wrapped me in a cloak of brown silken fur, of higher quality than anything found in Tamriel. My number one priority is escape. If I can hurt some of these demons in the process, all the better.

?, 3E433. ?
I have determined that I am definitely being held in a cell of some kind. In the corner is a pile of hay, presumably for sleeping. Other than that the room is completely bare, four walls of smooth white stone with no visible exit.

?, 3E433, ?
The stone is not stone at all, but a bizarre ice of some kind. Attempting to touch the wall, my bare hand became stuck to the freezing wall. A fire spell lubricated the wall, allowing me to free my hand. For the past hour, or more, I have been blasting the wall with fire. The size of the room prevents me from unleashing a true firestorm, lest I roast myself. An ignominious end for the Saviour of Morrowind. Despite my best efforts, the sheering heat has no effect; the wall refreezing instantly. Whoever my captors are, they are unparalleled masters of frost magic.

?, 3E433, ?
A rumbling. If my captors wanted, they could crush me under the weight of their icy walls. I ready a telekinesis spell to try and repel the event.

?, 3E433, ?
The rumbling was not an attempt to kill me. Above, the ceiling appeared to melt away, though I saw no water. A spell gripped me, some manner of involuntary levitation, raising me out of the prison. As I came to the top my cage, two of the great beasts came into view, wielding spears. They wore ornate armour, appearing like black netch-leather, intricate carvings adorning the chest. Their large, primitive eyes fixed my gaze as the pair grabbed me from my levitation. One of them casually threw me over his shoulder, the other aiming his spear straight at my head. I looked at the spear-wielding brute, who gave the slightest of nods, as if to confirm 'Try anything, you're dead.'. I could see little as I was carried, like some petulant child, along what appeared to be a vast corridor. I could hear echoing grunts and the low guttural language of my captors, but attempts to look around were met with disapproval by the spear-wielder, who threw me a frown which consumed his entire face. I write seated in some sort of foyer, a cavern. We appear to be waiting for an immense stone door to open.

?, 3E433, ?
The door finally throws itself open. In front, a giant Kamal, clad head-to-toe in what appears to be purest silver. His throne looks to be carved from an immense tree, like the towering elms of Valenwood. It is another sight which causes me greater panic than the giant-king, for hanging in the background I see something familiar. It is the crew that dropped me here, strung up by their necks, hanging from the branches of the throne-tree, red Dunmer eyes bulging from their sockets in a final terror. If these savages want a fight, I will give them a last stand that will go down in their histories.