And so, here is another chapter finished.

I again apologize for the delay in the last chapter. Hopefully the next will not be delayed!

And again, constant readers, who have viewed this thread nearly 500 times as of this posting, my grateful thanks for being with me so far. Continue. I think our journey will be worthwhile.

10. THE BEST LAID PLANS ?

Morkwin's office is luxurious, even by the standards of an Archmage. Designed with a view to both satisfy his comforts and overawe the visitor, it has magnificent hangings, opulent furniture, tastefully designed and expensive wardrobes and closets for his clothes, tomes, and scrolls, and two items in particular specially ordered by him . One is a massive desk with a top of smoothly polished green malachite supported by an intricately carved wooden frame, with crystal carved dragon paperweights strategically placed on it to catch the visitor's eye. The desk is complemented by a massive armchair built of rosewood, with velvet padding, and with the heads of the armrests carved into Daedra images: it is Morkwin's way of subtly showing his power, especially when he leans back in his chair and rests each hand casually on a carved Daedra head. The top of the chair is another Morkwin conceit: it is carved in beautiful points, subtly suggesting a King's crown.

The other Morkwin room speciality is a breathtakingly massive window that starts from knee level of one wall and goes almost up the way to the ceiling, and which is nearly as wide as the wall itself. The window looks out into the garden, but it was not designed for the view, even though the view itself if magnificent. Morkwin has deliberately designed the room so that the window faces east, and the entrance door faces west, and he has arranged his chair and desk in front of the window facing the door so that the first thing the visitor sees when entering the room is Morkwin behind his massive desk with the tremendous window behind him - and Morkwin likes to arrange his appointments in the morning, so that he will be bathed in a halo of sunlight and the visitor momentarily blinded by the light. This office pleases Morkwin no end, and frequently he will stop in his ruminations simply to look at his belongings with a smug smile.

Today, however, no smile is on Morkwin's face. He is, in fact, in a rage so towering that nothing in the room can soothe him, The room does, however, give him one comfort: it is large enough for him to stride restlessly up and down it, his pace as furious as his thoughts.

That idiot! That stupid, marsh-stinking, lizard crap overeager Argonian Idiot!

The plan seemed so foolproof at the time. But how was I to know that that stupid frogeater would stick his scaly hide where it didn't belong, and get himself killed? Yes, yes, I did tell him to keep a close eye on Daryen, but surely even an Argonian with his brains in his tail should have known better than to stay close to a de-mining operation! Especially one with no magika skills in healing at all.

Now I only have the stones to keep track of Daryen. And the interference is getting worse all the time, and I have no one on the scene to countercheck whether this is natural or Daryen's doing. And the treasure recovery has slowed down to the merest trickle, and of course no progress is being made in discovering the secrets of the Valleron pearls at all! The Council now knows of the setback, and since the Argonian was my idea to begin with, they are whispering that "Morkwin isn't so clever after all?perhaps he shouldn't be in charge?"

At least one half of my plan is working ? I know what they are scheming against me, because their stones are transmitting to me what they are plotting behind my back. But I am powerless to move against them, since this debacle has cost me my support in the Council.

What I need to do is to create a victory out of this defeat. But how, but how?

Morkwin fiercely paces up and down in his office, his mind in a controlled panic. He knows his political position in the Guild is precarious, and that his career could be over as soon as the next meeting, which he has manage to put off for the time being. But the pressure on him to produce results is getting stronger every day, and sooner or later he will run out of excuses.

He reviews his position. The best solution would be to discover the secret of Valleron, and discover it in such a way that only he would be able to use the secret. This was the hidden, undisclosed reason why he had sent in the Argonian ? if Daryen discovered the secret, he would have the Argonian assassinate him at once, and then rush to Valleron to 'investigate the murder' and while there, snatch up the secret.

But before that ? he would kill all the guards and workers on site. This was why he had also rented out a company of pirates who were cruising up and down off the Isle of Valleron, ready at his signal to kill everything on the island. He had gambled a tidy sum on the pirates, and a far larger sum providing for the magical weapons that would be used to overpower anything and everything on the island.

Of course, I showed them that those weapons won't work until I unlock them. Heh!. At least there I've planned perfectly! Those damned pirates want the weapons and the loot so much that they'll cruise along that island a week past forever, if necessary?I don't need to worry on that score. Human Greed is so predictable.

Little do they know that after they've killed everyone on the island, those weapons will explode in their hands. That should either kill them or leave them so weakened that I can walk over all of them when I arrive immediately afterwards. Then I will 'discover' that the Argonian was just the advance spy for the pirates, and the glory of defeating all of them single-handed will be mine?that, plus the discovery of the Valleron secret ? only by that time it will be Morkwin's secret ? will have the Council eating out of my hand, to be my instrument for all time?

But none of this is going to happen if Daryen discovers and keeps the secret first. And now I have lost both my Assassin and my Countercheck. How am I going to retrieve the situation?

Morkwin decides to review the situation. The more he does, the less he likes it. He knows that within a week, there must be a new Council meeting, for he cannot put it off later than a week. He goes over the support he has in the Council one more time, and as he thinks he slowly shakes his head. He cannot count on the active vote of any Council member anymore, and he knows that there are at least two members ? "Mind-like-Whip" and Patronius ? who will vote against him. All that is necessary is one more vote, and within a week they will have it. Urg-Lokath used to support him, but now even his rather slow Orc mind is thinking that Morkwin needs to be replaced.

His mouth hardens. He will not admit defeat! Not when he is so close, so close to victory.

Whatever it takes, I shall do it. But what ? WAIT ? an idea is coming?.

Morwin slowly subsides into his chair, his face set in a deep frown. As his idea takes shape, a slow, sly smile appears on his face.

Of course. What if I set my Pirate plan into action early? I will call a Council meeting at once. The Plotters will be so thrown off their stride by this unexpected meeting that they will not want to force a vote: rather, they will instead warily listen to what I say.

At that meeting I will claim the existence of a fictional second agent of mine, who unfortunately had no time to be fitted with Sentients. This fictional agent will claim that the death of the Argonian was no accident, but a staged accident done by nefarious assassins who were landed, and taken off, secretly by ship. This report is so alarming that I have to go to the site myself, at once, to investigate.

Since I cannot go there and fulfill my Council duties at the same time, I will resign as Archmage as well as Council member and ? ooooh, I just love this ? propose Urg-Lokath as New Archmage! That will throw Patronius and his fellow plotter into a spin! Either they will support Urg-Lokath for the Archmage ? in which case, they will have branded themselves as my stooges and so be distrusted by the rest of the Council ? or they will oppose the election, in which case they will have the enmity of Urg-Lokath forever. And of course there's the matter of selecting my replacement on the Council. They'll each want their own friends on it, so that should also provoke quite a fight!

Yes?since the leadership of the Council will be contested ? both by the winning and losing side ? no one will insist on coming to Valleron island with me! They will all be too afraid of what the others might be doing to undermine their position in their absence. The Council will truly be in turmoil?and of course, I could drop hints, leave forged letters where they can be discovered, just to make them even more jealous and suspicious of each other?

Then I go, leaving a divided and jealous Council behind ? too divided to plot against me, they'll all be plotting against each other instead ? and put my Pirate plan into action. Pirates kill everyone on the island. I land just in time and kill all the Pirates. King Silath's court will see me as a hero, and beg me to continue the research with workers and guards that I personally hire. Then I can do the research myself ? and when I find out the Valleron Secret, I won't need to get back in the Council ? they'll BEG me on their knees to become Archmage again!

Yes, the plan is almost perfect. After all, wasn't it said that "If a man needs something done right, he's got to do it himself?" I should never have sent Daryen in the first place. Ah well, he has served his purpose. For he has no parents, no background, and so he doesn't have anyone who will ask awkward questions when he's done for. The perfect victim. For my, heh, perfect crime.

The only problem is that they'll insist I, too, wear the Sentients. Well, I will think of a way around that problem later. This is by far the best, and most cunning plan, in the present circumstances.

Morkwin rings his bell for his secretary. The young, fresh-faced apprentice arrives. Morkwin puts on his most urbane, avuncular face. He smiles fondly at the eager, na?ve Apprentice, who is still squinting slightly from the sun in his eyes.

"Ah, Apprentice Ayeleod, I have some work for you. We need to send out attendance invitations for the next meeting?"

This is to celebrate the fact that this thread has had over 500 views!!!

The next chapter comes soon...and with another twist, as usual...

But to my constant readers, a question: what do you think of Archmage Morkwin?

He seems rather paranoid at times, also he obviosuly seems to favour himself over the guild, and will do anything to keep his power. He's very well portrayed me thinks.

Ah, thanks for the feedback, Constant Reader Serenity.

Yes, just as in - heh - pro wrestling, one needs a villian that all love to hate. And I have created Morkwin to be one.

But in the spirit of the TES, especially the older Daggerfall, I have created a character that is - I hope - complex, subtle, and dangerously intelligent as well as repellent. Sauce for the story!

Teaser: Telvanni magic a-coming!!!

Shocking - despicable - how could you create such a loathsome and underhanded character as that Archmage Foxy? Not to mention his enemies who are only less despicable due to their own incompetence at the job - their activities can be summed up by this smilie - keep up the despicable work! :goodjob:

For just a moment when reading that post I thought you meant "Archmage Foxy"...

And you STIL haven't told me in which life I met you before!!!!

Welcome to this thread AutoCthon.

Er...just what does your name signify?

11. THE BELLE OF THE BALL

A perfect day, a perfect day!

I have done all that I set out to do! Ahh, what joy it is to be a woman, to be young, but far and above all, to be successful!!!

King Silath reacted just as I suggested. The Kingly fool condescendingly said I could see some of my "Ancestral Treasures". Now the only problem is to find out a way to make two visits to see them. I'll need the first visit to embed a detailed picture of them in my mind, and then at my second visit I can switch them with the replicas I'll have made. Ah, the arts of illusion and telekinesis ? so useful! And a girl's gown is such a useful thing to wear. Men would be surprised at the amount of stuff that can be hidden under a gown?especially a specially constructed one with very special pockets.

I suddenly laugh, to myself. Why is it that all the great and successful thieves in history are all men? Perhaps it is because all the great female thieves and sneaks of the past were so successful, they never left any traces, and so some second-grade male thief in his memoirs or confessions decided to take the credit for what was done by us. I have always thought it highly suspicious that there exists no mention of the female thief in literature. I never found any, not even when I was poring over all those obscure texts in the hidden, great Telvanni Library?

The Telvanni?sometimes I wonder. Why did they decide to bring me up, from childhood, and take me away from a father and mother I never knew? Whenever I asked questions about them, they told me that my parents were dead, and they had decided to take me because I 'had promise'. Though I wonder how you can see promise in a baby who can't even talk. Perhaps that's a Telvanni secret that I haven't studied yet.

But now it is time to go to this evening's ball, and meet and talk with all the guests there. And of course, I shall meet the Mages Guild Emissary there?he really is amusing. Poor man, he has no idea that my legal battle to gain title over Valleron is more or less a smokescreen ? I just want to be near the action, and swipe stuff, and pay off my Telvanni/Hlaalu debts. Of course if I do get the Title that would be a huge bonus, though I'll only be the nominal owner of the Island ? the Telvanni have made it clear that I can keep the Valleron Title, but anything on the island belongs to them. Still the title of 'Countess Valleron' won't be bad, would it? And of course there's the Telvanni stipend that I'm promised. Too bad I can't take something from the Hlaalu at the same time, but the Telvanni have told me to be their own creature, or else. And I'm certainly not strong enough to defy them, not yet, not now. But perhaps later, when I'm Countess Valleron?and when I've cashed in on all the loot I'm going to steal on my own account?

Venera walks in a cloud of silk and gauze, smiling sweetly or saucily at passing court members, all of whom have fallen under her spell in one way or another. She is so inured to this that she does not even need to do this consciously: her web of seduction is cast even as her mind is preoccupied in planning ahead. While she descends the staircase towards the ballroom she reviews her situation again. A smile, a wave of her hand, a light touch, even as her mind touches on all the points that constitute her plan.

I wonder how the Telvanni came up with all the documents and knowledge of the Valleron Family that I was given. Surely they can't be forgeries, they have passed the strictest tests of both King Silath's recordkeepers and the Mages Guild. Perhaps they have the genuine heir, hidden away somewhere? Perhaps in one of Divath Fyr's dungeons, where his 'daughters' look after the creepy old Telvanni.

Ugh. He gives me the creeps! And why, during my training, did he insist on calling me "Visleith" instead of "Venera" all the time? Of course he wanted me to get into the spirit or my ancestor - but surely that was a bit excessive. I even caught some of the other Telvanni giving him angry looks when he did that. For some reason he seemed to find that greatly amusing. That's why I don't like him ? I could never trick him in even the smallest way, and he always exuded an air of "I know a lot more than you, and I know something you don't!"

Into the ballroom, and the room brightens visibly at her entrance. Venera walks from person to person, talking, pretending to listen, flattering, with just the right amount and balance of agreement and sometimes sarcastic wit to enthrall all. And she does not even have to pretend too much - her mood is quite cheerful, as she reflects upon expected successes. So much so that she is actually delighted as she catches sight of Daryen.

Aha, there is that bookworm and prig, Daryen, talking to some hooded monk! I shall amuse myself with him.

"Sera Daryen, greetings. Perhaps you have found a new legal argument to use to deny a poor girl her rights ? or, perhaps, you will relent and persuade the Mages Guild to withdraw its objection to my Island?"

He turns, and gives me a strange smile.

"Greetings, Venera. I'd like you to meet a colleague of mine, a monk, Lady Shadow Phoenix. Lady, this is Venera Valleron, who claims to be the descendant of the Vallerons, and she was referring to the fact that my guild is probing her claims. I think you two may have much to talk about."

Aha. I sense that he is still attracted to me, though not so much as before. Is there another woman, perhaps? Perhaps this lady monk? I shall try to find out later, but now ? first, let's see who this monk is?

Interesting. She is covered from head to foot with a cowl, but I can still see her face. Wisps of dark hair streaked with grey. Scars on her face ? she has been in the wars! And she is standing slightly bent, she's old. No, no seduction there, but she has definitely got Daryen's interest. And what did he mean by saying that we had much to talk about?

"Greetings, my Lady Valleron!"

Do I detect a hint of irony, or even sarcasm there? Or was that just a quaver in her old voice?

"I was called here by Sera Daryen, as the history of old families is one of my interests. I believe that as the claimed heir of the Vallerons, you would know much about their history, yes?"

Ah. Another Interrogator of the Valleron histories. Well, I have my replies down pat ? I begin my recital of my invented Valleron heritage, while mentally groaning at being interrogated at an Imperial Ball, of all places! Still, one has to take the bitter along with the sweet, and I suppose this sort of thing has to happen from time to time. Of course I kept myself smiling all the while?

"You say the Telvanni adopted you in youth, and you never actually knew your mother and father?"

Interesting. Usually people don't query this part of my story. Why is she interested in the Telvanni? Out of the corner of my eye I can see that Daryen is also interested. Perhaps there is some tension between the guild and House Telvanni? This is intriguing. Perhaps the Telvanni will pay for this information, also. In any case, I know what to answer to this question, too. I begin my "Telvanni Orphan" story?

"And while you were with the Telvanni, you must have met Divayth Fyr, yes?"

For the first time I am thrown off guard. How could they have known ? but wait, it's a natural question. Fyr is famous all over Tamriel. It's natural that she should ask about him?I think?but what if it's not natural? What if she knows something about Fyr's training of me, and other things as well?

Think, Venera. Think fast. VERY fast.

"When in doubt, stick as closely to the truth as you can". I shall keep to that maxim, and try to find out what they know, if they know anything at all.

"Of course! Why, he's famous! Everyone knows about him and his ..er?'daughters'!"

Remember to blush. And half-stifle a quick giggle. There, perfect.

"Ah that was only because I knew Divayth, a long, long time ago. I am glad to hear that he's keeping well, and of course that his 'daughters' are keeping him amused?oh, I see King Silath has entered the ballroom, and he is looking your way. Perhaps he wishes to speak with you!"

Saved from this garrulous old lady, by herself! I graciously make my bows, and withdraw.

Daryen and Visleith watch her leave. He speaks out of the side of his mouth.

"Well?"

"She's been trained well, by the Telvanni. But her appearance is only just the slightest bit enhanced by her Illusion tricks. What she actually looks like is what you saw her just now as ?"

"As the exact replica of you! Only she looked younger, softer when I first saw her?"

"Yes, that's her style of chameleon. And no doubt she looks older to those who like experienced women, saucy to those who like that, and grave to those who prefer their women quiet?"

"But how did she look exactly like you, in the first place! That's what I'm dying to know!"

Visleith does not answer for a long time. When she does, her voice is filled with an immense sadness.

"I had suspected this long ago, but I had to see to be sure?now I know where that renegade who stole from me went. She looks like me because she is me. That bastard Divayth has grown her, from my flesh, in a bottle. She's a clone."

*jaw drop* Omigosh! I never saw that coming! Brilliant chapter!

Thank you constant reader Serenity.

Yes, it was designed that way...for surprise...

And yet, when you look back at the chapters, you can see hints of it - in the mention of Divayth Fyr early on, in the exact resemblance between Visleith and Venera...

This is what good writers do: they create surprises which, in retrospect, seem so logical and inevitable. I am trying to follow in their footsteps...I am not yet a good writer, far from being a very good to great writer, but I am trying to get there.

And the rest of you, constant readers, what do you think?

Well I like the clone thing and the twist in the tale - but not that particular characterisation of Divayth Fyr. My feeling is that if he wanted something he would find a less underhand way to acquire it. Why? He has a rep to preserve for one thing. He is not just any old dunmer, or a glory-seeker, he is a power in his own right, deeply wise and subtle and accepted by the mighty and the God-like.

Divayth Fyr is over 4,000yrs old by some accounts. If he had spent that time as a thief or a thief-master then that would have surfaced and affected his reputation. It's just too long to 'never make a mistake' or never be found out.

Also if you had played Morrowind you would have played Divayth Fyr's thief game with the keys. Basically he collects powerful artifacts and then allows people to steal them - likely because he knows that certain of those artifacts, the Gods and Daedric Princes have empowered to gravitate to new owners in various circumstances and he is too wise to try and prevent that. But also because they are really toys to him - objects of interest that he will see again and will acquire if the time is right - if not then there will be yet another time - when life is that long. And lastly to amuse himself - it's his little game.

Now if someone else had requested Divayth Fyr's assistance in creating a clone hundreds of years before that might be a different matter - but then why did they not do anything about it before the current turmoil began? And Divayth Fyr would not have cloned someone at the behest of a nonentity who could simply be wiped out of the equation by some petty accident - it would have had to be a power that requested such a thing of him and gave him good reason to do so.

Divayth Fyr's own focus is on his experiments and studies. If he was interested in the experiments your lady had undertaken he would have already been there and gone once he knew she was no longer around - with no need to create any clone. Well, once he was in the know he would likely have paid her a visit, and offered to exchanged information.

You are going to have to work extremely hard to sort this one Foxy. Try reading at the Imperial Library - and ask some questions on the Lore Forum - you will get a whole load of differing opinions there and someone might just come up with saomething that can be used in this tale of yours.

Forgive the long absence before replying...the ship has hit the fang, and only now can I draw a deep breath and reply...

First of all, 1999 who knows me and whom I do not know under this name *grrr* *if only I had the time to do a patient search!!!!* THANK YOU for taking the time to take me up on what you (rightly) perceive to be a flaw in the story...ah, if only all those who read would emulate you!

Regarding our own Divayth, yes, I know this does seem to be somewhat out of character and trivializing - but be patient. Read on. I think I can smooth explain why, after 4000 years, he's suddenly doing something out of character...and if I have done my job well, my explanation will not seem contrived at all, but something so inevitable and so intermeshed with this story's logic that the reaction will be not "What?" but "Of Course! It all makes sense now!".

I know. It's a tall order indeed. And it may well be that I will fail.

But what would life be, if we only played it on the 'very easy' setting, eh???

:D and a big THANK YOU to ALL my readers so far!!!

Another installment in...well...soon.

12. A LONG WALK TO THE BEGINNING...

On an evening like any other in the last thousand years, Divayth Fyr stares at the view of the sea from the top of his tower. Wind and wave make a swirling symphony, a feast for both the eye and ear. It is a breathtaking sight, and one that is as familiar to him as the back of his hand.

And familiarity breeds contempt.

Or so it has been said. This may not be totally true, of course.

His tower is familiar, but he does not hate it. Rather, it bores him.

The surroundings, the rocks and the mudcrabs, and the adventurers whom he regards as part of the scenery, are that which he has seen hundreds of times before. Again, no contempt. Just a total lack of emotion towards them.

And certainly Divayth finds nothing contemptible in his 'daughters' who are only too eager to please him...a smile, a swift response to any wish expressed or even hinted, and an attentiveness that none could find fault with.

Yet he finds their love and attention cloying, and in the end wearying. As are the games he keeps inventing with lesser frequency these days. Find the treasure! That has grown too familiar, too, and barely flags his attention these days. Exit one adventurer, enter another. After a while they all look the same.

His research, too. It palls. The cure for corpus had excited him, but now it resembles a trophy on the shelf that gathers dust. The world hangs heavy on his heart and mind, mirroring the red sunlight of the last days of light that he can see as he stares out into the sun setting over the sea.

This is amusing, at least...and Ironic. Years - and health - are not eternal youth. I once believed them to be one and the same. I wished for them, and created them in the force of my own will and the forge of my intellect. And now four thousand of years have come and gone, and I am still as healthy as ever. All that I have ever dreamed of has been encompassed.

And it feels so dry. As dust. And meaningless...as a mote in the wind.

As if telepathic, the wind picks up again. The darkening sky now highlights the whitecaps of the waves beginning to whip up at the base of the tower. The tang of salt fills the air. Divayth remembers the first time he smelled the salt of the ocean, and unbidden a thousand memories of the times he encountered the sea breeze comes to mind... Divayth shakes his head, and smiles wryly. Yes, the first time. All the first times were full of mystery and promise, but now it palls. As does everything. A thousand and more repetitions of the experience has made it into a two-dimensional mockery of the freshness it once had.

It is the memories. I should have known it long before, Yet who would have believed, if they had not known it at first hand?

Divayth draws the curtains over the window, and walks back to his study.

The mind needs its memories to stay sane, but each memory places a heavier burden on the heart. Yes, even the good ones. The thrill of victory, the sweetness of first love, in the long run becomes a burden, for they are reminders of that which cannot be duplicated.

And the sadness...the passage of the years has made sad memories both less painful and more poignant. Tears have turned into glaciers, heavy and somber. Their weight is crushing, which is perhaps why some old go senile...for there is too much pain from the past in the present, so they revert to the past before the past, the sweet cheerfulness of infancy.

To combat that Divayth has deliberately been using every trick he knows, for the last fifteen centuries and more. He has created love from his own flesh to keep him young. He has stimulated a jaded appetite by creating treasures for adventurers to steal. Research into the most difficult of challenges has kept him busy for a long, long time. This has kept him going longer than any other Telvanni, far longer than any mortal.

But it is not enough, now. In the end, everything new was old again. And age has crept into even the cellular memory of his continuiously rejuvenated body, so that while the flesh was willing the mind was weak...another irony, Divayth thinks to himself. Or perhaps he should just say young flesh and old nerves. Divayth chuckles.

I should add another thing necessary to keep young - a sense of humour. Lucky for me that I still have it.

But of course Luck itself is needed. And it was sheer luck that made that smuggler come to my door, with that tremendously useful piece of flesh...that made me able to re-create Visleith from nothing, so to speak...

And just how did Visleith discover the way out of this trap? That there was a way to keep sane by keeping those memories, while reducing their emotional weight through keeping them in another place, off her mind, so that they were forgotten in her deepest subconscious, while still available at a moment's notice? Did she research deeper than even me, did another do her research, or was it luck again>

Whatever it may have been, I must have it. Of all mortals living, only I have the direst need, and I deserve it most - for who but myself has walked furthest along the path? I have created Venera as the thin edge of my wedge into the Valleron island, and once she is in I shall lever it open until the secret I want is laid bare.

If necessary, I must deceive even my Hlaalu partners. Of course, if there were even the remotest chance that this research would be thrown open to the public, there would be no need for this shabby deception. Yet four thousand years have taught me that when it comes to the secret of Eternal Youth, no word or promise is safe. And who is there who would be more honourable than me? Who else would take the trouble to research, refine, and retain its essence while discarding the dross, and then present it as a gift to the deserving? No one but me.

Divayth turns back to his window, and drawing the curtains looks out into a sea serenely lit by moonlight. The wind has abated, and the sea is deceptively smooth again.

Ah, an omen, he thinks, and chuckles again

:lmao:

Please Foxy - one of me is enough on any forum!



Again I do like the memory-challenge - very relevant to Divayth and his thinking and also to coprus (spelling = corpus?) as it appears that strength of intellect and character generally control the nature of the transformation - into something pleasing to the human or mer senses or into a monstrous being. You might usefully look at that as a basis for this section of your tale.

You might wonder at the age of certain other Telvanni Masters, but it is possible that Divyth is the oldest mortal - if indeed he still is mortal - however it would help if you are kinder to Divayth - agreed that ennui would be a powerful factor. As recommended read up at the Imperial Library this link to the http://www.imperial-library.info/obscure_text/nu-hatta_nu-mantia.shtml has a tasty bit in it. The Obscure Scrolls are a collection of a variety of texts, atricles and 'stuff' including contributions by various gamesas Devs that have not made it into the ES games but that were used in creating what has been seen in-game. This might give you a bit more source for flavour. I would recomend toning down the more 'ego-centric aspects' of your Dviayth and make it a search for curiosity? Your other characters have plenty of egocentricity and greed to spread around.

Based on the Nu-hatta Intercept it could be that Divayth has been charged to investigate aspects of your 'find'/treasure by the Elder Council itself, and that they are indeed concerned that the Island may contain knowledge and artifacts that are destabilising the Mages Guild and threatening the relative calm in Morrowind following the demise of Dagoth Ur. .

Further re Divayth
Cultured curiosity may well underlie Divayth's character. He is a philanthropist but that does not bar enlightened self-interest. What you might wonder is why he has not attempted to mantle and ascend as a God - his grasp of magica is likely what sustains him and thus must be truly formidable and place him within that range of beings who have divinity as an option.

One outstanding aspect of his character that Divayth has unerringly displayed is a depth of sanity. Perhaps also there is possibly a ppinch of insouciance? But his role in ES appears to be to act as a balance or foil to the excesses of those around him.

Telvanni generally are only too happy to frustrate Hlaalu ... some dryly humoured sense of that might be useful.

Again I commend you to the Lore forum and suggest you offer up a Researching Divayth's True Character thread - there are people there who have a truly subtle appreciation of the nuances of the characters and could be far more helpful that a mere numeral such as myself.

'...Again I commend you to the Lore forum and suggest you offer up a Researching Divayth's True Character thread - there are people there who have a truly subtle appreciation of the nuances of the characters and could be far more helpful that a mere numeral such as myself,,,'

Will do.

Am taking a leave of absence for about a week....but will be back as soon as my committments are fulfilled!!!

And to my constant readers, T.H.A.N.K.S!!! for your support and interest that have made this thread pass the 600 view mark!

13. WHERE THERE IS DARKNESS ?

Night brings a special edge to light.

Even an area well-lit by a hundred torches has edges of darkness, or corners where what was so visible during the day are blurred and softened. And the sight of men, too, weakens with the fall of the sun: what was visible in the light at once during the day now needs an act of concentration to be seen at night.

King Silath's palace has torches and sentries, the standard protection for even large houses these days. And more than just that, as well.

For a time after the use of enchanted equipment and scrolls became widespread, every place with something worth stealing sooner or later would have its valuable stripped cleaner than a hound's tooth. The age of the thief-adventurer was in its heyday then. It seemed that about every fifth man or mer or indeed any race was an adventurer, and the nights - and sometimes the days - were filled with invisible and half-invisible thieves slithering around where they shouldn't, and hauling off mountains of loot, and sometimes getting into fights when their magic failed and the guards spotted them - or having fights afterwards when they were dividing up the loot.

While in the past only powerful wizards could understand and use magic, today anyone who can read (and some who can't!) can do some fairly powerful magic, with the use of enchanted equipment or spell scrolls. And after a while people got completely fed up with two-bit thieves armed with a little magic chameleon and invisibility sneaking and stealing away the family jewels right under their noses.

And since the defeat of Dagoth Ur opened up a new area of magic, that of magic negation, it didn't take long for wizards and the rich to put two and two together, come up with a satisfying four, and start work on a way to prevent magic-assisted burglary. Soon the fruits of their collaboration, the magic negation stones, were perfected and ready for use, and with their advent the age of the thief-adventurer ended as abruptly as it had begun.

The stones were simple in concept, though hard to actually create. Each stone would radiate a field, which was in direct proportion to its power, that would negate a particular type of magic within that field. The wizards had at first tried to create stones that would negate all magic, but they failed - only Dagoth Ur had that kind of power, and even then only in his last refuge - and so they settled on the more manageable and achieveable specialist stones. The most popular were, of course, the invisibility and chamoleon negation stones. Once they had become a part of the construction of every palace, rich man's house, wizard's tower, and even the tunnels and dungeons of certain wealthy orders, the ranks of the thief-adventurers plummeted through deaths, executions, and resignations. Burglars shifted back to their old habits, robbing the shacks of the poor for their few miserable possessions. There hasn't been a successful theft of any remarkable size for over a decade. Most of the high-value robberies now have shifted to brigandage and banditry on the roads and countrysides.

Which was why I decided to add burglary to my skills. And why I was now sneaking inside the palace of Silath.

The use of Magic Negation meant that to successfully sneak where you shouldn't you had to have something other than magic, which was why I made my thief's outfit. It used no magic at all ? therefore not only was it impervious to my stones or any type of countermagic stones, but also it emitted no magic that could be sensed by a Magicka Sensitive. Although with all the Magic Vibration Racket the stones are making I'm sure there can be no Magicka Sensitive around!

My suit was basic dark, yet it was mottled all over with uneven bumps and lumps, like a toad's skin. These bumps were actually fish bladders, transparent, sewn to the surface of the suit, filled with water which had photoplankton swimming inside. Long strands of dark leather, with their own bladders attached, hung down from its shoulder, arms, and legs, An oversize cowl, with its own bladders, hid head and face, And in all these bladders my photoplankton lived...

I chuckled to myself. Many an adventurer had swum in Niben Bay, yet few had sunk down to the depths to discover these tiny creatures! Small, defenseless, and coveted by both Slaughterfish and Mudcrabs as food, they had evolved a defense mechanism by changing their colour to their surroundings. And I'll bet the 'Will of the Wisp' which has the same amphorous shape is an evolutionary descendant of these plankton?when I have the time I really must write a leaned paper about this. This will do no end of good to my reputation among the mage scholars! But, of course, someone might use that information to make a suit like mine. Alas, then, it seems that my discovery must be lost to history.

I smiled ruefully, and turned my thoughts back to the photoplankton. When I found out its effects, it was but the next, logical step to attach them to a suit as camouflage, so that they changed colour to match their surroundings. The lumpy and bumpy, mottled shape of the suit, too, with its hundred of long trailing tendrils, broke up my outline so that combined with the colour chameleon effect of my suit, I was almost invisible.

But of course 'almost' was not good enough for me. I had to be completely invisible. To do that I used another weapon, which did not involve magic, but alchemy.

From the swamps of Argonia I found a bloodsvcking parasite worm which used an anesthetic chemical to disguise its bite. What intrigued me was that this chemical, if burned, produced an odourless, slightly narcotic and mildly sopoforic smoke. I bottled this smoke in soft leather bladders, and whenever I saw a sentry in the distance, I lobbed the bladders at their feet. In less than a minute they were half asleep on their feet, even as they continued to walk up and down, and I could sneak past almost under their noses and they would not see me. I retrieved the bladders as I sneaked past, of course. It wouldn't do to leave evidence behind!

I slip along the corridors, noiseless in my stealth slippers and dark suit. Three steps, look around. Patience. Lack of that his killed many a thief. Corner up ahead. I use a mirror on a stick to look around. Torches, as expected, but the guard has his back to me. I seize the opportunity, and lob a bladder...it falls with a soft plop four feet away. I move back behind the corner, and recite the one-minute poem I use as a mnemonic to tell time. Poem ends. Time.

Smoothly I move in my duck-waddle crouch around the corner, and quietly and unconcernedly glide right past the sentry's front, secure in the knowledge that while his eyes were open his senses were shut. With the efficiency of long practice I pick up the gas bladder as I sweep by, and I smile as I notice that he notices me not at all, not even when the tendrils of my suit brush over his boots...with his vacant gaze and half-open mouth he looks more like the village idiot in guard's uniform now.

It was good that I practiced against the day I would need to do this.

As I glided past the corridors of King Silath's Palace I had some time to think of what I was going to do. It had been so clear when I left the island ? sneak into the King's Palace, go to the guest chambers, and find Venera's place and see if I could get any knowledge from her room. But perhaps because with my equipment it was so easy to circumvent the guards, I found myself thinking of myself?and Visleith.

Having sneaked Visleith in disguise into the Town as an old Lady Monk (let Morkwin look as long as he wants, my disguise was perfect!) I rented her a room for a month at the Royal Arms Hotel, and had in absolutely solid excuse to see her as many times as I wanted ? she was supposed to be an expert on the Valleron History, after all. As indeed she was!

What about me? What do I feel ? about Visleith, and Venera? Now that I have the chance to compare them both, it is all so clear. Venera is like the gilded vessel sold by cunning merchants as gold plate: stunningly beautiful on the outside, but inside nothing but cheap, tawdry metal, and the whole thing is a merchant's trick to dupe customers who don't have the knowledge to inquire what's under the surface. Whereas Visleith is the vessel made of solid gold throughout ? solid all the way through, and valuable Her life experience, her wisdom, her courage make her more attractive than Venera, and so I have fallen out of love with Venera almost as fast as I had fallen in love with her?heh, if someone had predicted this a week ago, I'd have laughed till I cried! To fall out out of love with an eighteen year old girl, only to fall back in love with a two hundred and eighty year old woman!

Another of Life's mysteries, I suppose. But I cannot be dawdling, now!

Gliding around another set of corridors, I found Venera's apartments near ? and a guard with a determined expression standing just outside her door. I crouched down. In my camouflaged, shapeless suit, I could still be seen by the guard, but as long as I did not move rapidly I would not attract his attention. How to sneak past? There were two torches burning hear him, and he was in very bright light. Even with my daze-gas bladders, I might be seen as I had to sneak in right under his nose. I would have to use another tool in my bag of tricks?

I took out my blowpipe and fitted it with a firechoke dart. Quietly, I blew one dart at each of the two torches near the guard, and he heard nothing.

I smiled. All I had to do now was wait. Imperceptibly, the oils in the firechoke arrow would cause the flame ? and the light ? to glow dimmer by the minute, so that in five minutes it would be giving out only half the light it did before, and that would continue for an hour until the fires would glow brighter again. When it was darker I planned to use the daze-gas bladder, and the combination of a dazed guard and a dim environment should enable me to sneak into the chamber, right under his nose?a minute passed, and then another, and another?

I blinked. Venera was walking down the corridor! Why and where was she out, so late at night? She walked up to her guard, and smiled and greeted him ? even at this distance I could see his eager response. Yes, you didn't miss a single trick, did you? Seduce and sweet-talk all the people you meet, for your own advantage. She smiled at him, and then went into her room.

Another minute, and I was ready. The light was quite low now, and the guard never noticed the dazegas bladder than landed, softly, nearly on his left foot. Another half minute and he was having trouble keeping his eyes open ? even as I snuck into the room, quickly picking up the bladder at the same time, I heard a half-snore from him, which he quickly stopped. It would seem that some are more susceptible to the gas than others?

The 'room' was actually a suite!

And just how much did you wheedle Old King Silath to get a full suite all to yourself, Venera?

A quick glance. Two of the rooms in the suite had their doors open. No one inside. I have to find the room where she's sleeping first, so that I can put a temporary stoplock on it. That way if she wakes while I'm scouting the other rooms she won't suddenly burst in on me from behind without warning. Not that she would be likely to wake from the whiff of dazegas I'm going to hold under her nose! That should keep her deep asleep for an hour at least. But it's best to take no chances.

I chose the third room to take a look at, and quietly slide over to the door.

At the door I froze. The door had looked closed at first glance ? but now at close range I saw that it was just ajar. Even as I hesitated I heard the sibilant hiss of whispered conversation inside?So not one, but two people are awake in there. Well, well, life is full of surprises!

I took a final glance around. Yes, no light in the entire suite, and in the moonlight from the windows I should be invisible in this suit.

I slowly open the door, and poke my head inside.

Visleith and Venera were standing facing each other, with daggers in their hands. Both looked as if they were going to strike any moment.

I just noticed...there are 66 replies and now, nearly 666 views...

Ah, beastly!!!

B)

Excellent writing, yet again.

This is one of the best works I have yet found on this website. The characters, the intricate plotting, the prose...
Keep up the good work.

70 posts, 700 and more views!

The reason why I am obsessed with numbers is because I need feedback - and views are a form of feedback, they show if you have an audience or not.

I would like criticism, though, like 1999 who has pointed out weaknesses and flaws in the background, and no doubt others here too can find out places - many, i suspect - where I have been found lamentably weak in the craft of the writer and storyteller.

And now, a confession to the readers ... but to the readers who know something about writing, this will come as no surprise at all.

When I first outlined this story in my mind it would have ended at around here, with 20,000 or so words. Instead as I wrote the story seemed to develop a life of its own, and now frankly speaking even I myself do no completely know where this story is going to take me...and us.

I shall post again as and when the muse strikes!

And to you, Constant Reader, my deep thanks for coming along thus far.

Wow, this is some impressive work.

You write very competently and fluently. Your voice is unique and distinctive - often you seem to be obliquely talking to the reader themselves instead of just narrating events, like a diary, and this really draws the reader in as if they are being told a story, in the oldest of traditions. Your descriptive style is very charismatic. I especially like the philosophical musings you inject into the writing, particularly at the beginning of chapters. The language you use is quite formal, even archaic, and it lends an interesting edge to the overall story - something almost poetic.

I notice, though, that one stylistic device you tend to use a lot is the exclamation mark. This may just be a personal preference, but I feel that sometimes it detracts from your prose by standing out too much. Punctuation should be an unnoticeable underscore - if it specifically jumps out at a reader, it may not be the correct kind to use, One example of this is when Venera is musing on her appearance in chapter six; I felt maybe exclamation marks were used slightly too frequently to be effective.

Your dialogue is tight, realistic and very enjoyable. It flows beautifully; I like the way you don't feel the need to always qualify who is saying what. Because the flow of your dialogue is so natural, it would detract from the experience to have qualifiers like "she snapped" and "he shouted" flying all over the place. Less is more. I also like the way you have inserted italic thoughts into the dialogue in place of these qualifiers; it makes the writing simple, intimate and elegant.

Can I just mention I also like your chapter titles? The use of quotes for many of them just feels... chic. I know that's a weird word to use, but that's how it came across to me.

I see a lot of similarities in the way we both construct our chapters, and I think that's a part of what drew me into this story so easily. You establish a setting with (often present-tense) exposition, and then move onto your characters. To use a comparison, it reminds me of a grand sweeping landscape shot in a film, setting the scene before switching to a closely-shot character exchange. And speaking of characters, congratualtions on creating such a diverse cast of beautifully constructed people. You don't give too much information away, which leaves people wanting more.

Congratulations on some very accomplished writing. Are you published in real life? It wouldn't surprise me.

Ah, thanks for the deep and intricate, and yet delightfully intimate post...

Perhaps it might explain a bit about my writing if I reveal that I stated writing poetry first, then dabbled with plays, before turning to fiction. First as a hobby. Now, however, I have somewhat more time on my hands (though once in a while, my schedule throws in an almight 'Oh yeah, Ya think so, Big Boy?' into the works) and I am thinking of dipping a toe into the waters.

I was published - mostly vanity press, though I did break even - but it's poetry.

This story, and some other stories, were intended as warmups...for like any writer who will truly open his or her heart of hearts, I, too, have dreams of being not only published, but sucessfully and widely published, one day. That day may, of course, never comes, as 99% of all aspiring writers find after their 2389th rejection slip - but "a man's dreams should exceed his grasp/or what's a heaven for?"

I do, however, need to edit more - the very sin I scold my acolytes IRL for. And this is why you, Dear Rummy, and all the others who have commented come in.

A Deep Thanks to you all, and either through Sensibility or Serendipity (or Serenity, if and when she posts again - heh - that was with tongue in cheek!) may all readers find a flash of recognition, insight, or unexplained joy through my writings!

14. The Lady, or the Tigress...

Time does slow down at intense moments of life.

Visleith and Venera - who is who?- move down to a crouch. Begin swaying. Bad sign, both about to attack. Are there any guards near I haven't gassed? Left Visleith/Venera makes a move with her knife hand, and right Visleith/Venera moves back a half step with dagger at guard. That one knows how to fight with short blades. Mental map of room: mid-corridor, at least two rooms on left and right before corridor branches - could someone be there and are there more guards at the ends of corridor? Them first. Now!

I spun back out of the door, but nor before I heard the unmistakable ring of blade on blade. [censored]. Have to move fast, now! Standing up and running, I throw open the left-hand room door, my hand already on the dazegas bladder. Bed is made, no lights, no one here. Without closing the door I spin on my heel, and charge - a double ring and steel scraqe -they're really going at it now - into the other room ...

Figure stirring on bed, beginning to wake up. A man. Heavyset. Beginning to wake. Rubbing his eyes.

No time for dazegas!

I aim at the back of the neck with my fist, throw my shoulder into the punch and follow through with body. The sickening thud of the impact jarred my wrist with the shock reaching all the way up to my elbow, but it was enough - the man let out an explosive puff of air, and dropped back onto the bed like a sack of potatoes.

A quick glance, ensuring he was truly unconscious, then sprint back into corridor. A scream and the sound of blades again . They don't care about being heard now, all they want to do is kill each other. I force my tense muscles to relax and wait. If there's a guard awake he'll come in a moment. I'm facing him, can't use dazegas, will have to kill. The dagger feels cold in my left hand. I move the dazegas bladder back into my pocket, and transfer the dagger to my right. Wait. Wait, be patient.

More sounds of battle. Twenty seconds. Forty. A minute. "Die, [censored]!" Five separate rings, then silence. They're still fighting. A minute and a half. Enough. I prepare the dazegas again and move back towards the battle...

Two screams that end in gurgling grunts. [censored], SOMEONE'S TAKEN A HIT! I race into the room, and stop cold.

They must have struck past each other's guards simultaneously. One of the two is clearly dead - no one could have lived with the dagger buried into the neck with the point coming out of the back of her head. Already there's a widening pool of blood under her head. The other has a dagger buried just under the collarbone with the point coming out of the back of her shoulder. A glance shows a strong welling of blood, but nothing like an arterial burst - the dagger must have gone clean through muscle and missed the bone and arteries. She is unconscious, though. I throw a quick restore health spell at her, but I know this will keep the damage at bay for only an hour at most.

Time stops.

If I leave, this one will die too. And I don't even know who it is. Venera or Visleith? How do I save her, even if I can get her out alive?

Decision Time. If I try to save her, then I will have to abandon the entire excavation project. Nursing her back to health will be a full time job.

Assuming I can even get her out alive. Assuming that it's Visleith who survived. Assuming that she won't die even if I can get her to the safety of the cave. Assuming that the team which Morkwin and King Silath will surely send to the island to investigate my disappearance won't discover my hidden cave.

And once I start, there will be no turning back. I will have to give up my ambitions for ever. Never to be Archmage. Never to have the facilities to reach my goal of truly understanding magic. Never to discover the full potential of the Valleron Magic and Treasure.

All for a woman who may or may not be the one I think I'm in love with. For a woman whom I know only for a week or so.

If I decide to try to save her, even then...I need to be examined for insanity.

I reach down and in one fluid motion, rip off the skirt of the dead Visleith/Venera and use it to make a compress bandage for the wound.

After tying up the wound as tightly as possible, I lift the limp and unconcious body of ...Visleith, I hope...onto my shoulder, and slowly begin my walk back to the caves.

A thought suddenly struck me, and in spite of the ten thousand worries whirling in my mind, I chuckled.

If I'm caught by a guard, I'll just say to him ... "Take me to the nearest insane asylum"

WOW. This humbles the starting/wannabe writer. I bow in excellence of this story, the dialogues, the setting... just... WOW.