My mind was racing. All I could think about was what was about to happen next. The shouts of my fellow Kyn roared across all of the Deadlands. So loud, even the Great Tower shook. I yelled among them, and the continuous shouts of 'We will be victorious!' in unison followed. Tightening the grip on my mace with my right hand, and sliding on my helmet with the left, I followed as our militia marched through the open gate. My vision was washed with a deep red color, like that of blood. The helmet felt heavy on my head. I was very nervous, this was my first invasion, and my first time entering Nirn.

All my life, I had been stuffed away in training camps, torture rooms, and worship areas. I was trained hard, worked hard, and it all paid off for what? A tough exterior and an undying flame hidden in the depths of my soul. The flame had a hunger, a hunger for violence and terror. My whole life, this was what I had been preparing for. This is what it all came down to. I shut my eyes as I walked into the magical frame of the gate, and when I opened my eyes, I appeared in a land of lush green grass and flourishing life. I prepared my weapon as I watched the Valkynaz yell out war cries and an army of pure-skinned men in metal armor charge.

The armor was different than ours; ours was obsidian, made from the scorching magma of Oblivion, hardened and roughened to perfection. As the two sides of this battle clashed, the blood began to spill. Fellow Kyn around me, and the opposing force, all dying. Some of these Kyn had been my friends, but in training, you were taught not to focus on your fellow Kyn, but on the attackers. I had killed some of the mortals, it was fairly easy. Their materials used to make armor was weak and brittle, no match for the power of a Dremora crafted mace.

The armor was crushed by the Xivilai's warhammer. The Xivilai were the overlords of the battle, proving almost impossible to defeat. Endless amounts of time worth of bloodshed and fighting, but unfortunately for us, we were losing the battle. They overwhelmed us with reinforcements, and I found myself dropping my weapons and holding my hands up. They accepted my plea, and shackled me. They took me far away, to a city thriving in population, and stored me away in a prison cell, where I stayed for three years in solitary confinement eating small, tasteless, raw meals. Three years I spent until today, the day I escape.
_______________________________________


The carved piece of stone shaped into a key actually worked. Years of figuring out the bumps and cracks of the lock to build a key, working. A loud 'click' sound escaped as I turned the key. I slid out the key, then shook the barred door. It actually came out, which filled me with joy. I nearly tripped out on my way out of the cell. I approached the cell in front of mine, which housed another Dremora. I knocked on the metal of the door.

"Dremora! Dremora, you awake?" I called out. The Dremora turned over in his bed, rubbing his eyes. He realized I escaped my cell.

"How in Dagon's name did you open that door?! Can you get mine open?" he exclaimed, excited.

"Shutup! The guards will hear us if you talk that loud.. Just give me a few seconds."

I shoved the hand-made key into the lock. The lock definately had a different texture, which scraqed off parts of the key. I got the key into place, and turned. My eyes widened as I saw the handle of the key snap off completely.

"Damn! You'll have to wait until I bring more Dremora, the key is broken!"

"Wait? WAIT?! I've sat here for who knows how long, waiting for something like this to come up, a chance for freedom. But now you're telling me to WAIT?!"

The Dremora, who appeared furious, stood up and approached the gate quickly. He reached his arm through the bars in an attempt to strangle me. I moved back out of the way, to avoid that happening. I suddenly heard the guard's entry door swing open, and footsteps approaching. I ran back into my cell, and closed my cell door, but left enough for me to open it later. The guard walked into the corridor with a torch.

"What is going on in here?" he said sternly.

"Nothing, guard." I responded. The guard grimaced at me and the other Dremora.

"One more outbreak like that and you won't get meals for a week!" The guard shook his head as he turned around and went back up the stairs. When I heard the door close, I went back to the cell door and opened it. I glared at the other Dremora as I went to the end of the corridor, seeking an exit without passing by guards. A window hung high on the wall, big enough for me to get through. I noticed a crate in the corner, which I pushed directly under the window. I crouched over and grabbed up a large stone. Deciding it was powerful enough, I heaved it at the window, causing a loud shatter and broken glass spilling everywhere. The guard's door opened again, and I quickly climbed onto the crate and crawled through the broken window. A jagged piece of glass jutting out cut my shin. I clenched my teeth and held onto the wound, but doing that required me to let go of the ledge. I spilled out of the window and dropped to the ground. I shuffled around to get myself up, then began running in any direction away from there. All I needed to do now was find a place to camp for the night.
_____________________________________

I will probably describe details of the main character in the next post, but for now, is this worth anything? I'm hoping to God it doesn't end up like the OTHER story..

I like it, but if this is set during the Oblivion Crisis...well you know how it happens...try not to make this Kynval a rambo (don't make him as powerful as a valkynaz that never dies)

No, no, this has nothing to do with the game's storyline. Basically, Oblivion gates can still open and Daedra can attack, but it's nothing about Uriel Septim or Martin Septim or any of that crap. It takes place in Tamriel, and as said, has nothing to do with the game. I'm also not gonna make him rambo, lol, because I'm trying to cut down on fight scenes but more on trying to get back to Oblivion and regain his reputation. Once his reputation is back, he gets one of the Valkynaz's to help him unimprison the Dremora, and the battlefrom the beginning sparks a war between Daedra and Tamriel. What happens next is for me to figure out when I get there.

The writing: better than last time. No glaring mistakes, no obvious howlers. Yes...you are learning, and learning is always to be encouraged.

Now let me tell you of the first thing that comes to mind.

You are writing about a Dremora. As I think you already know, there are many given descriptions and rules regarding Dremora... from the lore. Are you sure you've read all of them? I myself am not a lore historian at all, so I cannot give you an exact anolysis of what was wrong where, but even then some alarm bells are going off in the back of my mind.

Remember, good research is the first requirement of a good writer. That doesn't mean that you have to be fact-perfect. No one is. I myself am a specialist in both poetry and the weapons discipline of martial arts, but that doesn't mean I haven't made mistakes in both those areas. The important thing is not to make GLARING mistakes - the 'howlers'.

I think - though I am not sure, this will need someone much more conversant with the lore than me - that there is something wrong in the description of the physical structure of the Dremora. For example, I'm quite sure they don't need to eat food - but I could be wrong - and I think Dremora don't ever surrender in battle! Again, I could be wrong..

A small technical point: Armour is hardened by casting techniques, but it is not 'roughened'! But hey, that's forgiveable - it's not a very big deal, just something slightly jarring.

War between daedra and tamriel=Oblivion Crisis. Except you don't know about Martin or Uriel, you just know your a knight of the daedra slaughtering in Dagon's name (and commonly honoring Tribunal Shrines) for Dremora respect Lord Vivec

Okay, thanks!

I have done some studying on Dremora myself. I know 'Kyn' means 'People' or something along those lines in their language, I know the way their voice sounds, and at the time the main character is a Churl-and well, Churls seem like the type to surrender, especially since they're weak. But yeah, Dremora might need to eat, I mean, all those corpses laying around in Oblivion had to get chewed up some way, right?

And Zalphon, the war between the two haven't happened YET. Yet.. The timeline should be decades, millenias maybe after the main storyline. Everything's changed, basically, but it's not really an Oblivon crisis, because instead of several gates opening, it's only 1-3 gates at a time, but in the same areas. An explanation would be that those were the only places able to open gates. It's a small war, like Dremora attempting revenge for the loss so many years ago. But it is struggled because there's only so many gates opening, or possible to be opened. That enough? bliviongate:

:blink:

After everything that was said, I didn't expect to see this. But...

Well, it's a massive improvement, and much easier to read. It looks like a nice premise for a story too!

Will keep reading, looking good.

And welcome back!

Thankyou, I am working on the next update already.

I had camped out far from the city that had imprisoned me, I had no wishes to return. I had a small fire set up and made a bed of the rags I was imprisoned in. My name is Tkynaz, Churl of the Daedric army. I have been alive for almost thirty years now, and I am nowhere near death, at least naturally. Dremora lifespan is much longer than a mortal's. I had been trained and chewed out twenty-two years since age five.

As an unusual thing about me, seperating me from alot of the other Kyn, is that I have not sprouted horns yet. Others have it-the Kynmarchers, the Valkynaz, they all have long horns spreading from their foreheads. But me, I have nothing. For some reason, my horns won't appear til I have reached the peak of my strength, one of the sorcerers told me.

Only a few other Kyn have this problem-where they only grow horns through strength or at mid-age. It is uncommon among us, but it is nothing to be ashamed of. It may not be shameful to most Kyn, but to the highest ranks of our army, it is a sign of weakness. They see the horns as a sign of power and strength. They treat me differently because of this. They expect more of me to increase my rank. I should have been a Caitiff in a few years, but since I am different to them, it will take me twice as long unless I show an action of true bravery or something good to our army. But even then, they would raise me more than just one rank-two to three, as an act of bravery in battle. But I haven't done anything like that yet. I have seen mortals enter our realm from Nirn, and the Dremora slaughter these mortals. Gruesome, yes, but the intruders seemed to be hostile.

I opened my eyes, to an unusual brightness. I shielded my face and looked into the sky, and what I saw was a distant glowing ball, which lightened this land. We didn't have one of those in the Deadlands, everything stayed red all the time. I moved my fingertips over the wound that I had the previous day, to see that it had been stitched up. I didn't stitch it, so someone had to. I scuffled up, preparing magicka.

"Who's there?!" I called out. Slowly, a figure came sliding down a tree. To my surprise, he hadn't tried to murder me yet. His skin was a dark blue color, a little like some of the Kyn I knew with blue skin instead of red.

"Who are you? Did you do this?" I asked, motioning to the cleaned-up wound.

"It's okay, I'm a friend. What are you? What is your name? Where are you from?" he asked curiously, with a huge grin on his face. I picked up the clothes from the ground that I had used as a makeshift bed, and put them back on my body.

"My name is Tkynaz, pronounced ta-kee-nuz. I am a Dremora and I hail from the realm of Oblivion. Why would you want to help me? Mortals like you always get frightened and attack on sight." I responded, still holding a tight face.

The man's eyes lightened up, and he then said, "Dremora? That's a new one, never heard of your kind, except in books. And you're really from Oblivion? What's it like?"

"Look, I don't have time to converse with you, I need to get back to Oblivion. Stay out of the way and you won't get hurt, or killed for that matter." I said, annoyed. I walked past the man, toward the Valus Mountains. That was the only place in Tamriel with live Oblivion gates. The man followed me.

"Hang on, could I help? You don't have any weapons or protection, but I do. I can be a.. A bodyguard! I mean, what can kill a Dunmer with Ebony armor and claymore?" he suggested. I shook my head.

"A Valkynaz decked out in Dremora crafted armor. Anyway, what is a 'Dunmer'?" I said.

"Dunmer is a form of Elf, the word 'mer' meaning people, and 'dun', the subtype of Elf I am. We are a proud pe-" he said before getting interrupted. I knocked him into a large bush, along with myself.

"Shh!" I pressed my hand against the man's mouth. I laid there for a few seconds, then the trampling of the ground by a horse-several horses passed by. I moved my head above the bush a little. Knights passing through the road, enough men to start a small war. Too many to handle, I told myself. Once they passed, I slowly got out of the bush and back onto the road, then motioned for the other man to come back out.

"What was that all about?" he shouted.

"They're after me." I replied.

"The Imperial Legion is after you? That sounds a little.. Dangerous.." he said softly. I proceeded down the road with the man following. One of the things that was going to hold me down was the continuous passing of guards. They might've been searching for me, who knows. I kept my eyes behind me as I kept walking along the trail. Where I needed to be was near the summit of the mountains. There was a gate for each single mountain there. Dremora camped out in the mountains daily, kidnapping mortals and bringing them back to Oblivion. I was about a day and a half from getting to the closest gate.

Heh, I love stories that are from "alternative" points of view... so this genuinely appeals to me. The way you're characterizing the main character works for me; it's fairly comprehensive, and you're doing it subtley and through thoughts and dialogue. Very well done.

You've also got a good grasp on setting and description. The opening scene was particularly poignant and easy to imagine: an excellent tool for describing his life before being forced to live on Nirn.

There were a couple mild punctuation blips, but nothing for me to really whine about.

Unfortunately, my Lore Alarm did go off a couple times. Mainly, I'm not sure you're entirely accurate on the matter of Daedric immortality. I had to research this for my own serial fanfiction, since one of my main characters is completely obsessed with the Daedric cycle of life and death. The sources I've turned up reveal that the Daedra don't really die: when they're killed, their animus (soul) is returned Oblivion until their physical bodies can reform. That's why they're infamously not afraid to die; they'll just be reborn. I don't think Dremora even die natural deaths.

Although maybe that entire thing is a question better suited for the Lore forum.

That said, it's okay to deviate from Lore a bit, as long as you're aware of it. You're making it your own, and incorporating it into the character in an interesting and compelling way. So don't feel like you need to rewrite everything; this is a good story anyway.

I'm also rather surprised that a Dunmer who is worldly enough to have ebony equipment would never have seen a Dremora before; Dunmer religion is steeped in Daedra worship. There's actually a Dremora wandering around the cities of Redoran Vvardenfell, if I recall correctly. I suspect we'll find out more about this mer as the story goes on; hopefully, that will be explained.

Then again, that might be getting too wrapped up in Lore again. I'm trying to get better about that, honest.

Overall, this is an interesting read, and has compelling characters. The odd alliance between the Dremora and the Dunmer promises many interesting (and amusing!) interactions down the road. The story has a conflict that may make the reader feel conflicted, but that's part of the deliciousness of it. I look forward to more.

Indeed, I am truly happy you have given it another go. I think we all learned a little last time about critique.

Since the main story points are already covered, I think it would be wise to go into a really important part of this story: lore. The idea is great: a story from the point of view of a Dremora Churl, but it is the kind of thing that really needs research.

The most glaring mistake with the lore is that Daedra never surrender. They can't die in the traditional sense; BSparrow was correct in that they are simply respawned in Oblivion. http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Spirit_of_the_Daedra; which specifically states:



This is also an interesting excerpt from the same manuscript:



And this is possibly the best part:



Basically an overview on their thoughts. All you really need to know is the clan system, their armor and appearance, how they interact with other Daedra, how they interact and view people, and the whole immortality thing. They don't need to eat or sleep, but they do enjoy drinking blood and all that, if only for the taste.

The story is good, and you don't always have to adhere strictly to lore (it's kind of too late now ) but it can help those who know a thing or two about it.

So, thanks for writing and keep up the good work :goodjob:


EDIT: V That too, I just didn't want to get too specific V

My main thing with it, is the title, a Kynval is a knight, but you are a churl, but I understand. Listen, don't say I am from Oblivion, say I am from the Deadlands. Oblivion can mean the Deadlands, Moonshadow, any realm of Oblivion. Other than that I am impressed.

Zalphon has a good point; make sure to read up on all the Daedric lore you can. It'll improve your story, I promise.

Wow, BSparrow and Darkom, I never had a clue that Dremora and Daedra are reborn. That's completely new to me. I'll keep it in mind and remember to use that in the story at one point.

Zalphon, the story is named Kynval(yes, I know it means knight) because later on he is promoted to Kynval, which is right before the war between Daedra and Tamriel.

And lastly, Chriso. I'll try to get up on all the lore I can-everything I've found on OblivioWiki never explained stuff like Dremoras coming back, so I'll be sure to check out the UESP.

A note on the Dunmer, he was born in Cyrodiil, which is where the story takes place(for now). I'll say that he got his Ebony from his father, who was a war veteran before he passed away from old age. The young Dunmer is still learning about swordfighting and proper use of armor, but he's got all the basics right now. You'll notice the change in both of the main characters as the story progresses.

An an update should be up soon, or later(later because I might have to get off in a bit). I'll work on some, though.

He won't go from Churl to Kynval directly... He'll need some time as catiliff first

Don't you remember when he said an act of bravery in battle ups you more than one rank? Basically that happens, but details aren't here yet.

But from a pathetic knave to a knight? Kind of unbelievable, right? That would be like a peasant becoming a knight, or a captain in the army advancing right to general. Just my personal opinion is all...

Agh, it's not like he's just magically ranked up for no reason-he's gonna do something epic.. I don't know what yet. If that idea fails I'll just rank one at a time.

http://images4.wikia.nocookie.net/oblivion/images/3/3c/DremoraChurlMelee.jpg

You'll find most of us in the Elder Scrolls forum advocate the http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Lore%3a%44aedra as the must-read comprehensive fan-made wiki. :goodjob:

Also, if you're not aware, the best place for anything related to Lore is http://www.imperial-library.info/obbooks/#daedra

Both resources have a lot to dig through, and that can be intimidating... but that's what make them so good.

It's good to hear you have a plan for these guys. I do so love interesting character development. :twirl:

This next update might be the longest I've done in ever. Oh yeah, two new main characters! They are two Dremoras named Xol and Dweukh.

________________


There it was. The gate overlooked the forests below, the red glow illuminating the area. I was prepared to go back home-but I needed an explanation for the Dunmer. He wouldn't be allowed in, the other Kyn would attack. I turned back to him and asked,

"Do you know how to cast spells?"

He scratched his head. "Yeah, a few."

"What do you know?" I questioned.

"I know how to heal wounds, but that's all." he replied. I looked at my wrist. At my fifth year of living, I had the words for a spell carved into my skin. The scars would let me remember how to cast it. The spell was invisibility, and it lasted until the spellcaster commanded it to end. I looked back up to the Dunmer and said, "Repeat these words after me." The Dunmer nodded. I translated the Daedric words to the language of Nirn to the Dunmer, and he repeated them.

"Did it work?" he asked. Moments later, his legs appeared to disappear. Then his torso and arms, then his head.

"Remember to follow me. Do as I say and don't wander off. You're invisible, and if I can't find you, you will never be able to leave the realm of Oblivion." I could see the faint outline of the Dunmer's head nod up and down. I could tell he was excited. I beckoned as I moved forward into the Dremora camp. As I came into the camp, one of the Kynaz, who had been eating some sort of flesh, stood up, bringing out a Daedric crafted longsword and approaching me.

"You! Mortal! Speak now before I rip out your throat and eat the tendons!" he shouted in the Dremora tongue.

"Mortal? I am one of you; a Kynaz. Now get the damned sword out of my face and let me through." I responded in the Dremora language. The Kynaz put away his sword, knowing that I was one of them. No mortal could speak our language.

"Why don't you have horns? Oh right, that's because you aren't a true Kynaz." he snapped as I walked past him. I decided to let it go. I approached the frame of the gate and passed through, opening into the Deadlands.

"Dunmer, you here?" I whispered.

"Yeah. This place is amazing! Do you know how much money I'd make by collecting plant samples and taking them back to Tamriel?" he exclaimed.

"Stay here. Get behind the gate so nobody walks into you, you can search for samples over there. I'll be back in a while, so make use of what's here. I might be gone a full day, so eat some Bloodgrass for your hunger. I know how hungry you mortals get." I commanded before walking away.

"Aye, aye!" I heard him call back.

***

"..So you're wanting another set? And you just want it for FREE?" the Valkynaz questioned. I moved in the chair to get more comfortable.

"Um, yes, you see, it wasn't my fault that I lost it.." I replied before getting cut off.

"WASN'T YOUR FAULT?! You surrendered to the enemy! You are a disgrace! You should feel the least bit lucky that I'm even letting you back in our army, more so not killing you myself. You get out of my office and take your sorry self to the armorer for a new set of armor, and if this happens again, there will be DIRE consequences. Do you understand?" He shouted, outraged.

"Yes.."

"Yes, WHAT?"

"Yes, Valkynaz."

I got up from the chair and left the room. I could hear the Valkynaz muttering something as I exited. I trotted down the slope to the mid-section of the tower. I took a left, while noticing four Dremoras worshipping to a shrine of Mehrunes Dagon. I passed through a corridor, and on the second door to the right, I opened it. The blacksmith was shaping out a briastplate from molten obsidian. He noticed me come in through the door. He looked up.

"What, Churl?" he questioned.

"The Valkynaz commanded me to come here for another set of armor." I said.

The blacksmith sighed loudly, obviously annoyed, and motioned for me to follow him as he then moved away from his work to the back room. I followed him into the room, and saw that the walls were decked with armors and weapons.

"I know how wasteful you Churls are, so I keep the collection of weaker armors back here for your rank. Grab whatever you need, but we can't spare you a third set. We're running low on proper materials to make the armor in this part of the year."

I saluted, and he walked past me back into the main room to finish his work. I closed the door and moved to the shelf that housed briastplates and cuirasses. I pulled out the strongest looking one, and put my arms and head through it. I had been in prison so long, I forgot how heavy the armor was. I snapped on a pair of armplates to the cuirass, and slid on some greaves. I finally put on boots, and got a helmet, grabbed a mace, and I was ready to go. I left the room, and saw that the blacksmith was reinforcing the armor with double the amount of obsidian than normal armors.

"Why are you putting on more?" I asked, out of curiosity.

"What? This is alot stronger than the thin-plated armor you have. This is for the Valkynaz and the Markynaz. We need our leaders attired with the best of the best. It would be terrible if the Valkynaz were to be defeated in battle, and the Markynaz just doesn't seem ready to take his place. Now get going, I have work to do."

I stepped out of the room and back into the worship room. The sorcerers had somehow brought in a mortal and were in the state of sacrificing him. They dropped bits of flesh into the fountain of blood. I went upstairs to the Markynaz's office to recieve orders. The office was right next to the Valkynaz's room. I opened the door, and found that I had interrupted the Markynaz giving orders to three other Churls.

"Excuse me, Markynaz, but I am here to recieve orders as well." I said.

The Markynaz moved his vision from the three Churls to me. He beckoned to me, and I came to where the other Churls were standing. The Markynaz grinned, then said,

"You're just in time to find out what you get to do. As you all know, there are some Kyn who decide to go against our law, to 'rebel', if you will. We have a group of rebels hiding out in some nether tunnels, not far from here." He handed us each a map, which showed a picture of the tower we were in, and north-west was a circle the Markynaz drew out. I folded the map and put it away. The Markynaz continued.
"These 'rebels', have killed two of our scouts in the past week, and they are becoming a real nuisance. Since it is your job to do the dirty work, you are to proceed to the location and take out this group. Completion will add rank points to each of your records. Understood?"

In unison, we all four said, "Yes, Markynaz."

"Dismissed."

I pulled down my helmet, and once again, the color of blood-red filled my vision. One of the other Churls was preparing to become a Caitiff, while the other two were around where I was rank-wise.

"Damn rebels, we've had twelve rebel groups rise in this year. I think they might become a major threat if we don't find the source." one of the lower Churls said.

"Possibly. I believe they would only be able to form a strong resistance if they banded together to form an organized union-like ours. They might have a chance." I said.

"A chance? Is that a joke? We have millions of Dremora soldiers all over this realm, and you think a few resistance fighters could take us down?" the almost-Caitiff said.

"You have a point, but are you forgetting about the other hundreds, who knows, thousands of rebel groups there are on this realm too? You really have to think about it. Don't underestimate them." I answered. We left the tower to the outside.
"Are any of you a scout of some sort?" I asked. The Churl who hadn't spoken yet popped his head up.

"Yes, I can check the map normally and direct us to the cave." he said. We all nodded. "Allow me." He walked in front of us. "Well, come on. Follow me." We stayed behind him while he took us to the rocky terrain away from the towers. He stopped in front of a poorly barricaded cave opening, and stepped aside.

"This is it?" the almost-Caitiff asked. The scout nodded. "Before going in, we nee dto know each other's names. We need to know who's who, right? I'm Dweukh."

The scout said his name was Relhir and the other Churl was named Xol. We creeped through the damp cave in search of the rebels. Suddenly, Relhir ran deeper into the cave away from us.

"What are you doing?!" Dweukh shouted. Relhir didn't look back or slow down. He disappeared into the red mist of the cave. As we continued walking, I noticed dark figures surrounding us. Dweukh and Xol both saw it. The figures moved into the light, and it were Dremora, with painted and dismantled Dremora armor. These had to be the rebels. I stared closely at one who looked suspiciously familiar, then I realized it was Relhir. He was a traitor. They slowly closed in on us.

"What do we do?" I asked.

"Try to kill as many as you can." Dweukh told. I turned to him, and saw him charge at several rebels, knocking them down. I tightened the grip on my mace, then hacked away at one of the rebels. The mace made a slash into the armor. The dismantling of it made is alot weaker. The rebel howled in pain while blood came from the opening in the armor. I pulled out the mace and smashed it into the rebel's skull, crushing it and killing him instantly. We all attacked the rebels fiercely. There were only about twenty, but they put up a fight. I reached Relhir, who was wielding a massive claymore. He heaved it down toward my direction, and I jumped out of the way. His entire body was now prone. I got back up and smashed his spine with my mace. He screamed and grabbed the wound. I kicked him to the ground. I repeatedly crushed away at his body with the mace until he looked like a pile of intestines with limbs and a head. The other rebels were finished by Dweukh and Xol. We cheered in victory, then left the cave.

***

"Well done, well done! You three walked straight into an ambush, led by a traitor, and you three got out with not more than cuts? I am impressed. Very impressed. I haven't seen such effort in a long time. Well done, you three, you are all officially Caitiffs. You are now dismissed. Go get some rest, you've earned it!"

The three of us left the room happy. I pulled off my helmet and breathed in fresh air.

"We should do this another time, we make a great team." Dweukh suggested.

"Sounds great. Next time I get orders to go on a mission, I'll invite you two." Xol said. I nodded.

I headed down to the barracks level of the tower, and entered a large room with open beds. There was a large blood fountain in the center of the room. I set down my mace and helmet onto one of the beds and took off my armor. I approached the blood fountain, and brought a few handfuls of blood and washed them over my wounds. They would be healed overnight. I laid on the bed and went to sleep.

My recommendation? Add a scamp as a pet, it would be a nice addition

Sorry I was gone yesterday.. Couldn't get on.

I'll try updating later today. But gone a full day and only one reply? But if the character were to have a pet.. I would prefer a clannfear. They're more powerful, and they're somewhat remotely 'cute', at least cuter than an underbited scamp.

Good stuff! :goodjob:

Thanks.

I'm working on an update right now.

Anun, for your second story, this is amazing... :goodjob: