Well done! You changed to third person for this one. I didn't really notice until I was will into the strory - that would make it seem you must have done a good job.

Your story is interesting and developing lots of twists, with interesting personalities emerging. I am interested to see where several of the plot elements are going next. That is to say, at least this reader wants to come back and read more.

Nice use of dialogue. You are using more of it and doing it well.

Interesting descriptions using strong and sometimes offbeat words. Here it works wonderfully:


Here, on the other hand, you may have overdone it a tad with exaggerated descriptives:


Here you described a mouth being agape - a wonderful description that sticks with the reader. Enough so that using it two more times in the same scene may be a bit distracting.



Keep writing! :icecream:

I wanted to work on Maxical's next move after that fight. I have the story written, but am using it as just an outline, and re-writing it to accomodate the critiques and better it. I kept getting frustrated with it, so thought I would give some background on Fathis's (background) activities thru the previous chapters.

It was kind of awkward, but I was trying to inject a bit of humor into it, like with the guards listening at the door, etc. I know I carried that too far with Maro and Varnado, I was trying to incorporate some of their bazaar behavior (in game) into the story. They are pretty weird in the game, especially Maro.

The mouths agape - I kept feeling I had used it already, and searched for it to change it, but couldn't find it. You are very right on that!



Well, I just am very glad you are friend enough to continue, I know it can get irritating when someones writing skill level is way below your own, so I just want you to know that I appreciate your continuing greatly!

Your writing is fine. I forgot to say in my last critique that the actual grammar/typo nits were gone from your latest story. Well done, especially for a longer story.

I am really quite intrigued with where your storyline is going. :tops:

Oh, by the way, did you notice I added Fathis predilection for Wood Elf to my story? That was in honor of your Buffy's Tales!

I certainly did! :wub:

I fixed the corrections you mentioned - very valid changes you suggested, it reads much better now! Thank you!

I swear the game sometimes is determined to pull you into the DB, kicking and screaming, if need be. I encountered a glitch during the final FG quest for the first time the other day - where killing one of the Blackwood Company members resulted in that "Your killing...." message and a 1000 bounty to boot. I was stunned, frankly, because I've heard of this happening, but it was presumably due to the player having to attack a non-aggressive company member, and the one whom the game had credited me with murdering had been pelting me with spells before I even went after her. I've also been tagged as a murderer after killing a vamp in one of the dungeons.

Isn't that weird when it does that? On mine, it was Claude Meric attacking me, with his cohorts. Later on, Umbacano/King Nenalata was charging me, saying he was going to kill me - both were added as murders on my record, no bounty. Just the other day (same game) it threw an 8th murder up on me, (again with no bounty) when I went to destroy the hist tree in the Blackwood company basemant.

The bad part is, I had started this character out as a good character. With the murders racking up left and right, I had to have her personality undergo a slight change.

Chapter 9: Helter-Skelter


Owyn had stopped me by the healing fount even though I had no injuries, I think he could see the shock in my face.

Shouting, "Get out of the way!" he cleared a path thru the crowd of fighters that had gathered in the Bloodworks to congratulate me. He laid me down on the first mat he came to, and then began chaffing my hands and loosening up my armor. Owyn called for blankets then, and covered me with as many blankets as the Pit Dogs carried to him.

The fighters gathered around the mat while Owyn worked, a sea of faces, all smiling and congratulating me, calling me the new Grand Champion in awed voices. I felt I would go insane and begin screaming again if they did not stop! To stop myself from going berserk, I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and bit down hard on my tongue. I held the bite down as hard as I could, so the blessed pain could take me away from all these smiling faces and congratulations. I prayed to the Gods to grant me the oblivion of blackness that I would not feel, nor have to face what had occurred in that Arena this day.

"Please to Akatosh this be a nightmare that I shall wake from" I prayed over and over again, but when the darkness came it didn't last long, for I choked on the blood that had filled my mouth, spraying it on all that surrounded my mat. Everyone backed off then, as my mouth went slack and a slow stream of blood oozed down my cheek and neck; the crimson stain in such contrast to my white fur that some of the younger bucks had to run from the room to be sick.

"Bring me my flask!" Owyn shouted to the room in general. When it was brought to him, Owyn forced it between my lips and tilted it back till I choked and sputtered a mixture of the burning liquid and blood.

Andronicus pushed her way thru the crowd around me and knelt down beside me. She pressed my sack of winnings into my hand. "You did it!" she said with almost a joyous lilt in her voice.

I felt the bag of Septims touch my palm and made a strangled sound as I threw them across the room. I wasn't taking money for murdering my best friend!

"Okay, that's it, everybody get out of here!" Owyn shouted. "NOW!" he yelled as everyone hesitated. "You too, Andronicus." he said, in a more apologetic voice to her. She didn't have to leave, she ranked equally with Owyn, but leave she did, with a few choice words under her breath toward him.

Then Owyn knelt down beside me, alternating between chafing my hands, checking my pulse, and forcibly raising my eyelids to check my pupils; and as he steadily worked on me, he began to talk slowly and quietly.

"I know you two were close friends, and that makes it really hard," Owyn said gently. "All of us older fighters, we all had to fight a friend at one time. We know it going into this business. That is just a part of it. It's a tough life, the Arena, and we all know when we walk in each day that we may not come home that night. We all know it Maxical. You were just the one that came home tonight, that's all. You think your friend didn't know when he walked into that Arena that he may not come back? He's known it every single time, all these years. This is the life he chose for himself. Being a friend, well when you are in that ring there are no friends. It can't make a difference to you, nothing can. It is what you are here to do, to fight. It was what Agronak lived for ever since I've known him, and that has been a long time. Do you know how many friends I have had to face out there? And I'm still here, so you know where they are. We are gladiators. This is our life. We live for that crowd out there, or we die for it."

Owyn's voice was a mixture of comfort and firmness, trying to brace me up; yet I know he had felt pain when his friends had died, I could see it in his eyes. But he didn't know about the pact Agronak and I had made, no one did. That secret would go to my grave with me, for the sake of my friend. He should die with the honor of being a Prince, not the shame of being the spawn of a vampire. Agronak knew when he dropped his blade in that Arena that his secret was safe with me.

Owyn talked on till I pretended to be asleep so he would leave. He was right about one thing, Agronak knew he would not come out of the ring this night.

When I was alone in the Bloodworks I let the tears come. "Oh Agronak, why did you leave me here like this?" I cried out over and over again, my voice echoing around in the empty Bloodworks.

I don't know how long I lay on that mat crying, but sometime in the early morning hours I knew I could not stay in this place another second. I did not want to wait around till the fighters began drifting in to practice. I stripped off the Arena Raiment and quickly changed into my leather armor, then grabbed my pack. I left my winnings where they lay, and made my way up the steps to the outside.

In the doorway I hesitated. There was someone standing out there, no one I recognized, just a young blonde headed boy; yet I was in no mood to see or talk to anyone, so I cast an invisibility and crouched down, being careful to sneak as far away from him as possible, and left the gate on the opposite side from where he stood.

I walked out the main gate to the west, avoiding the eyes of the guard at the gate. I headed down toward the bridge, but at the last second swerved off, and instead I ran down to the water's edge and swam across, skirting the fringes of the Waterfront, where I could see some people still wandering around in the dark. When I hit land again I just started running, and as I ran rage began to take over. I didn't know where I was going, nor care. I kept running long after I was tired, long after I was hungry, and Gods help anyone or anything that tried to attack me. I was in a rage of anguish, for my friend, for my life; I would not stop running till the pain stopped, and it didn't feel like that would be anytime soon.

***

It had become dark again, and I was still running. My legs were bleeding from thorn thickets I had plowed thru; the muscles of my legs had long since ceased to ache, now they just felt dead, but I just kept forcing them to move. I saw a large shadow looming at the top of hill in front of me. Crowhaven!

I don't know if it was by design of the Gods, or my own burning conscience, but here I was, at that vile place! My rage could not have found a better outlet, and the explosion came as I saw the first Guardian skeleton creaking toward me.

With sword drawn I charged in at a dead run. Screaming "Agronak" at the top of my lungs like a battle cry, I swung my blade and hit the first Guardian skeleton with such force that his head flew off and rolled down the hill. The second was not as easy, as he was not startled like the first had been, but he too was headless at the end of our encounter.

At this point I had lost control of my senses, no consequences were great enough to stay me from what followed. I plunged into the darkness inside, not bothering to use Detect Life, Invisibility, nothing. I hoped they would kill me, and didn't care anymore if it was here or anywhere else, maybe I deserved to rot in this horrible place.

I drew my sword out as I ran down the passages, and was screaming, "Agronak! Agronak!" as I plowed down each passage, charging and slashing down the vampires, who had no time to attack me, if any of them dared. My "Eye of Khajiit" power was obviously working, for they were almost running from me. Even with their tremendous speed and agility, in my rage my full abilities as a Khajiit were boiling to the surface, and the fact that I had run from Imperial City to here didn't seem to matter, at that moment I had a burst of adrenalin that can only come from sheer insanity.

Yes, I had finally snapped. I knew that. I was running thru this horrible place screaming, foam and spit flying out of my mouth, taking no precautions for protection or good sense - just plain cat gone berserk! And I didn't care who knew it or saw me at this point, the only people I cared for in my life had all witnessed me kill my best friend, murder him.

But Agronak and I both knew that I had destroyed his life long before last night with the information I had brought back from this horrible place.

It was my doing that he lay dead, and he was too good to kill me, but I was not too good to stop myself from killing him. I really thought we would be going together, I believed him when he promised that.

The corpse of Lord Lovidicus lay rotting where I had left it. The smell of it filled the air and choked me, but it didn't stop me. I stood over that filthy rotting Lord's corpse and hit it with everything I had. The sword shook in my hand, and then I hit his body so many times that my sword finally broke.

The whole time I kept screaming Agronak's name, and cursing Lord Lovidicus. I hoped he would rot in the hell he had wrought on his sweet son, and the hell he had ensured in my life. If I could have re-animated him, I would have, over and over again, and then killed him again each time.

When I left there I was drained emotionally, and covered with blood and rotting guts from Lord Lovidicus and the other vampires I encountered on my way thru. I ran down to the water's edge and bathed.

I tried to hold myself under water, hoping to never surface, but was unable to drown myself. So I began running again, this time north.

I think in a state of insanity, one draws from strengths that don't exist normally. I was running from the tortured demons in my own mind, and I could not get far enough away from them. They were there inside me, haunting; and I could have run for a lifetime and never escaped their taunts.

When I got to the Jerall Mountains I began to feel an easing, a relief. It was peaceful and quiet, the enemy attacks were few. I slowed down then and began tackling the ever heightening peaks, scaling up them as best as possible, hoping to slide off into Oblivion by a missed step - but cats don't miss steps, we are made for climbing, so here I was still alive.

Brilliant!! The story, dialogue, descriptions, pacing? all of it. What a pleasure reading this was.

Dialogue? Advancing the story while sharing a wealth of insight about a character? Wow:


Your descriptions remain vivid, but no longer contain the 'over the top' aspect found in some of your earlier writing.

I wrestled just a bit with her run from the IC to Crowhaven. That's a long jog! Your challenge would have been to craft a layover somewhere along the way, but still preserve the frenzied nature of her mission. Just a thought?.

Stories are as long as they end up. This entry is about 1900 words. For me at least, that is a wonderful length. Easy to read, yet enough to get your teeth into.

Ok. Nits. Very minor, and I only bring them up because I love your writing. These are all minor typos and correctable via some form of spellcheck.







Again, this was beautiful and I hope you will continue her story.

I know, and I wrestled with it myself for the realism. See, the first time I did this quest, I was so traumatized by it, that I did exactly what is written here. I ran, and ran. Found myself at Crowhaven, went thru like a banshee, then ran up into the Jerall mountains. My character stayed up in the Jerall and Valus mountains for months (gametime) after doing that quest, I really felt torn up by that whole quest, and never did it again till this game.

The thing is, I didn't sleep till I was up in the snowy Jerall mountains - that is how I found out about the Dark Brotherhood for the first time in my first game. I wanted to recapture that feeling, how that quest had really made me feel. So I was really torn on whether to write what I actually did that first time or not. The reason I kept it as it stood is:

I think in a state of insanity, one draws from inhuman strengths, and she was running from the tortured demons in her own mind , could not get far enough away from them because they were within her. Until she reached a state of total collapse, she was destined to run. Also, she is a Khajiit, fitter than most because she is a trained athlete who has been in extreme physical conditioning for the Arena. Then factor in her youth, and the fact that she made it to Crowhaven in less than 24 hours ( I found on the internet that human trained athletes can run for 48 hours without stopping)

I was playing on an un-modded game, and I wished in writing this that I had played that first game using realism mods so my character would have collapsed at a more natural time so I would know the Khajiit limits, then I could have added some length for the state of insanity she was laboring under, and her extreme physical conditioning and youth. It would have helped me a lot in this instance to know how much was physically possible.

However, I don't want to ruin the immersion either, so if it totally messes up the immersion, I will re-write it.

*** Oh, I clicked on the spell check on here, and it requires some download, doesn't work on my PC; (which also has no spell check!) I don't want to keep taxing you with this, I will have to figure something out. One of those was a typo, the rest were my brain not functioning, lol.

Thank you again Acadian, you ROCK !!!

T'was a minor thing - that is the distraction of her marathon.
For typos, I draft in MS word. It gives me red squiggles on words it does not recognize.

None of this is significant enough to detract from your wonderful story. :tops:

Thanks Acadian! I am going to see if I can find MS word on here, and then see if my rough draft will transfer over. I am ashamed of myself for the poor spelling! Too many years since I was in school I guess!

** found it, transferred all the rough draft over, that should make a difference! Thanks again!

I really enjoy this fan-fic. The way you write makes me feel bad when Maxi feels bad and vice-versa. Keep it up. :goodjob:

Just one thing; please change thru for through.

Oh thank you so much! I have been feeling guilty every time I took that shortcut, so I will definately change it. Thank you so much!

Holy cheese, NOOO!!
Next chapter please!!!
I have read through the entire thread in one sitting! Maxical has become my moonsugar! My sweet, sweet moonsugar...


^That rambling means that I love your story. Please post more soon! :shocking:

Thank you very much! I am working on it, it may be tomorrow.

Before I reply to your PM, Malxi (BTW what DOES that tag mear? :unsure:) I thought I'd pop a quick line in about...

...your descriptions of love.

Now, as Helena, Rumpleteaza and BSparrow know, I am a hopeless romantic. I love people truly falling in love. And yes, I have been in love myself, and have done mad and crazy things in passion (when I was younger, of course) ...


...and yet...



... somehow your description of Fathi's passion for the Khajit sounds...a little creepy.

Love has been described as " a mixture of tenderness and lust". We shall leave (mostly) the lust part out of this: this is a PG 13 forum and anyway I have already been accused of way too much 18 + description in other forums already! But I simply don't see the deep, throbbing worry that should be at the base of all love in FATHIS.

Reading your posts I can believe that the poor girl cat is in love - but somehow I cannot believe that Fathis is really in love: he sounds more like a man who is enraged that a dinner that he has spent hours cooking for himself to dine on is in danger of being eaten by somebody else.

Unless...that was your intention?

Then you do get it! Fathis desires what he doesn't have.

When he can't find her, he is frantic; but as soon as he thinks he knows her next move, he backs off. He will say, "if I get the chance I will ..(blah blah blah)." but then when he actually has the chance, he changes his mind and backs off, or decides to "give her a few weeks to think about it" ; instead of going to her.

He only wants what he doesn't have. If he thinks he has it, it is no longer important. Also, you said dinner; great anology! He doesn't see her any differently than any of his possessions. He feels he "owns" her.

Also, he desires her "in spite of the fact that she is a Khajiit" - that is tantamount to saying she is beneath him because he is a Khajiit. So he thinks he is better or above her whether he realizes it or not.

He was good to her, which is why she fell in love with him, (and he really did do some good things) - right up till he realized she was a woman, and that soon another man would be with her. He didn't want her till he realized someone else might.


That said, there are some flaws in her love for him. She looks up to him as a hero, a God. He can do no wrong in her eyes. Even when he mistreated her over the armor, she took it and still loved him; would do anything for his love. (including turning her back on S'Jirra). This is the love of a child, not a woman. A woman would have told him about the bandit taking the armor. She has to grow up before she will be able to see the flaws that Fathis has, and decide if he is worthy of her love.

AHA..

Now a lot of things are becoming clearer....

And an apology to you. When you described Maxical's love for Fathis, and her berserk reaction after the death of Agronak, I thought that you were - please forgive me - another emo teenager chick, good with words but not so mature, full of feelings but lacking in the maturity department.

Now I see that it is not so: that Maxical, in spite of her similarity to your name, is just a character in your story using only some aspects of your life experience and personality (for do not all writers, including myself, and all actors infuse a touch of themselves into their creations?) and is not representative of the writer, who is far more subtle and deep than that.

OT: In a way, is not writing a way to approach God? As he creates his puppets on earth and yet gives them free will, so too the writer and his/her creations....but I shall shut up. Pointless Pontification like this will only lead to Passionate Protests from Perigrinating Philosophers.

I do hope you will slowly but surely, and in a way that seems entirely natural but not contrived, make Maxical evolve in depth and Maturity, and perhaps even teach Fathis a lesson about emotional narcissism along the way!

:thumbsup:

I think when she meets the Emperor and is given something to think about other than herself, it will mature her.



The reason I always played a mature character before is so I wouldn't have to bring my character through the immature stages. Between Acadian and Bobg, they inspired me to try a younger character, so Maxical is my first child character I've ever played. I modeled her personality around a few examples, but to be honest I am probably more like S'Jirra - (boring?) lol.



Another point I tried to make in the story is how Fathis treats his horse, who gives it's all to him. He never thinks about the horses needs, or what will injure it. That is more or less an example of how he would treat a woman. - (I would conjecture)

(and the horse doesn't dare leave that spot even when it smells water and needs it.)

In Fathis defense he gave her the tower without any thought but to give her a gift - but as his desire for her grew, and he suddenly realized he had no control of her - suddenly that isolated tower took on a whole different meaning in his mind; he was going to use it to get her away from her over-protective mother, (so she wouldn't see what?) and isolate Maxical so no other men could see her. (however at this point, only the reader and Fathis know about these plans, at this point they are all thoughts in his head).

Chapter 10: Lucien Lachance



I had long since slowed to a walk, but had kept following the ridge of the Jerall Mountains when I saw the odd shaped tower from a distance, it's spires reaching up to the sky and towering way above all of Tamriel. It never occurred to me when I first saw it in the distance that this was the tower Fathis had bestowed on me. That thought never hit me till I stood in front of it. I knew it was a wizard's tower then. I could see the pink transport lights glowing from a ledge near the top of it.

Curiosity got the best of me, and I used my key to enter. It was beautiful inside, in spite of the dust and thick cobwebs that were clinging to the corners, a visible indication of neglect. The enchanting and spell making altars were shiny and new, even with the film of dust over them. Between them was an Atronach altar, something Fathis had not mentioned. A surprise gift from one who loved conjuration.

My heart twisted at that. The pain of total loss hit hard then. All that Fathis had done for me, given me, his love for me; all gone, and I was helpless to ever get them back now.

The only time I had laid eyes on him since that day at the Inn; it was just in time for him to witness me killing my best friend. I didn't know where to turn, but I knew it was not going to be here. Without looking at anything else in the tower I backed away from the altar and stumbled back out into the snowy peaks. I continued heading east, letting the snowy peaks and perfect silence of the mountains bathe my heart with their healing.

***

Exhaustion had finally taken over; I knew I would collapse soon if I didn't rest, although the pangs of hunger had been relieved by some food I found in an abandoned camp near the Wizard's Tower. There had been a tent there which I could have slept in, but it was too close to the tower, which could be seen clearly from the camp. I could not bring myself to stay and have to see that tower; it would have only tormented me.

Instead I had snatched the food and thrown it in my pack; hurrying off down the trail. Eventually I had pulled out the meat and began munching on it as I walked. The meat had perked me up at first, but now was weighing heavily on me, making me feel the weight of the drowsiness that was beginning to overwhelm me.

Below me I saw the Ayeleid ruin and a small camp beside it. I was weak enough now to collapse, and didn't know if I had the strength to take on the two bandits whose camp this obviously was. I sat down on the snowy peak and rested up my strength for the fight.

I lay flat on my back and looked up at the pristine blue sky. I wished I could die up here in these beautiful mountains; but I now knew I wouldn't be dying any time soon. I was destined to live; that was obvious. I didn't understand the purpose of why I was still here, but there it was; and it was now abundantly clear to me that my fates were out of my hands.

Being up here in these mountains, it felt like I was walking on land that the Gods held for their own private use. There was a healing when you walked these mountains alone; you could look down from these heights and see Cyrodiil so far below you; it felt like you were in a different realm; the realm of the Gods, not men. Somehow the pains and cares of that world down there did not have the importance, could not damage you, as long as you were here amongst the Gods. Only the reminders of that world placed up here by men could bring the pain of the world into this realm, like that tower.

When darkness fell I crouched down and worked my way quietly down the mountainside toward the camp. They had health and rest on their side, I had surprise on mine. When I was close enough range for my spells I stopped, staying crouched low so they would have trouble seeing me. I was uphill from them, it would be harder for them to shoot an arrow uphill and hit me.

Physical exhaustion had depleted my magicka enough that I could not use a powerful spell, lest it deplete me entirely and the bandits still live. I had to use just a flare, but hoped that with the element of surprise it would be enough. The first bandit sank like a stone, but the second seemed to gauge my position and I could hear the arrows singing near enough to make me nervous. He was moving rapidly, so it was hard to aim my next fireball, and I couldn't waste any magicka at this point. I stayed crouched and still till he slowed his movement enough to get a good shot in. It hit, and the injury slowed the bandit enough that I was able to cast again and bring him to the ground. One more fireball and the light of life left him.

Relieved that the fight had not been brought to me, I made my way down into the camp. There was plenty of food, and I stowed every bit of it into my pack; in case I had to make a quick exit I wanted to be sure I had everything I needed from this camp with me.

I was too tired to drag their bodies away from the campsite. I struggled with the one closest to the tents for a while, but he was too heavy to move far. The thought of sleeping next to dead bodies was disgusting, but the need to rest was stronger than my aversion to their closeness. My eyelids drooped heavily once the adrenalin of the fight wore off, and I crawled into one of the tents to finally rest. My mind was too tired for dreams or thoughts, instead I collapsed into blackness.

When I awoke it was to see a man's legs standing outside my tent, almost obscured by the folds of a black robe. Watching the legs intensely for any movement, I carefully slid my hand and felt around for my sword.

"Where is it?" I thought, panicked; "Oh no, it was shattered! I left it at Crowhaven!" My mind seemed to still be weighed down by sleep, I needed to clear my head and wake up fast!

I started lining up some spells to cast, and then tried to slip quietly out of the tent without him seeing my movements. He shifted his feet.

"No time for stealth, I better just charge him!" Even as the thought came to me, I was moving fast to jump out of the tent on the end opposite of where he stood, thinking to use the tent as a shield during the awkwardness of climbing out and standing up.

I went to cast my spell and take him down, and nothing happened! He must have used a silence spell on me; and even as I realized that, I realized something else was wrong. I was paralyzed! I stood and waited, what else could I do? As he walked up to me, I was scanning him for what weapon he was going to kill me with. The black robe he wore was of a fullness that hid any discerning lumps that may have indicated a sword hilt. A black cowl was drawn over his face so his eyes remained hidden, but I could see them glisten in the darkness the cowl created. All I could see with any clarity was his mouth, and as I noticed his mouth it opened slightly and he began to speak in a voice that made my blood turn to an icy gel in my veins.

"You sleep rather soundly for a murderer, that's good. You'll need a clear conscience for what I'm about to propose." he said in a voice that sounded like the grave itself.

The full impact of what was happening hit me then. This was the Dark Brotherhood! I had always heard that if you murder someone, they come to you when you sleep! But wasn't that supposed to be just a story parents scare their children with? Just like the Gray Fox stories? "Oh what have I done now?" I wanted to scream, but found my throat paralyzed. Then suddenly the paralysis was released at his will, and I realized I could speak, but only when he allowed it.

When I didn't speak, he continued; his voice sent chills of ice down my spine.

"You prefer silence then? As do I, my dear child. As do I. For is silence not the symphony of death? The orchestration of Sithis himself?"

Again my throat was released for speech, yet the thousand thoughts that were racing through my mind; I could not seem to say any of them in the state of fear I was in. When I didn't speak he continued.

"Ironic, then, that I come to you now as Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood. My name is Lucien Lachance, and my voice is the will of the Night Mother."

It was true then, this was the Dark Brotherhood! What had I read about "Night Mother Rituals" in the Black Horse Courier? "Oh why can't I think!" was the only clear thought that stood out in my mind.

Again that horrible Lucien Lachance continued.

"She's been watching you. Observing as you kill, admiring as you end life without pity or remorse. The Night Mother is most pleased!"

"Was he talking about my fighting in the Arena?" I wondered, still unable or unwilling to speak to this man. I would have fled if he had not held me paralyzed. "But that wasn't murder, it was?"

Even before I could complete the thought the image of the Gray Prince laying at my feet flooded over me, and there was no where to look that I didn't see that image. His sword on the ground, far enough away from him that it was obvious he was not holding it at the time of his death. I struck a blow to an unarmed man. Not just any unarmed man, but one who had said, "Kill me, please" - and I had. And not just any man, but my best friend. The Dark Brotherhood was not here for all my Arena fights, just the last fight; the Grand Championship bout. My shoulders slumped and I hung my head.

Lucien Lachance was lying; I had felt remorse every second since I first saw Agronak lying dead. I could never stop feeling remorse for what I did that day. But the remorse would never bring back Agronak.

I felt a shame wash over me as the full realization of what I had done in the Arena that day was brought home to me. I had murdered my best friend! I had murdered Agronak! I was a murderer. Nothing this evil man was saying to me was a lie, it was the truth. I could see it clearly now, for the first time; what exactly I had done in that Arena. And as badly as I wished I had a sword to ram down this Lucien Lachance's throat (if he didn't keep me paralyzed); as badly as I hated him and his voice of the grave, I knew now that I had done this to myself. I had called this evil down upon me as surely as if I had prayed to the Night Mother myself. It was my own fault, and no amount of saying I was sorry could lift the taint of Agronak's murder from me. It is something I would live with the rest of my life, and killing this evil Lucien Lachance would not change that.

Lucien Lachance continued talking, but my own thoughts were whirling, and I could not hear his words above them.

When he left, I found that he had slipped a large dagger into my hands. I tried to throw it, but it would not leave me. It had to be some enchantment that held it on my person. I needed a blade badly, but the thought of touching this blade; it was the representation of what I was, even the name etched in the blade said it all, "Blade of Woe."

Something I realized that day, when you are a murderer, nothing you do afterwards makes you any cleaner, you are still a murderer. I could heal the sick and feed the poor, but I would still be a murderer. "Oh what have I done? Dear Akatosh please help me!" I cried out from the depths of my heart, but knew there was no help for me anymore. I was not going to die, and I was a murderer. This was my fate. What had that Lucien Lachance said? Something about an Ill Omen? I guess even the Dark Brotherhood seemed to know that the white Khajiit were a bad omen. Although I had not heard a lot of what he had said to me, those words stood out clearly.

The realization that the Dark Brotherhood was real; well if they are real, then maybe this superstition about a white Khajiit was no superstition either, but the truth. For all I know there may even be a Gray Fox! Everything I'd ever believed was false was real; and what I thought to be real was false.

Like believing when I walked in that Arena that our pact was all pure and good between friends? But it wasn't, it was murder. What other beliefs have I clung to, and are they all lies as well? And where does that leave me?

"Oh how the Gods must look down and laugh!" I said aloud. Either the Gods I pray to hate white Khajiit like the rest of the world does; or the Daedric Gods have me as their plaything to entertain themselves. So what am I good for now?"


*** Lucien Lachance:

http://images2.wikia.nocookie.net/elderscrolls/images/3/3c/LucienHead.jpg

Well done! I was pulled right in and couldn't stop reading until done. :read:

You are taking the time to provide wonderful descriptions now. This quote for example provides description, advances your story and provides insight into the character of Maxical - simply, simultaneously and beautifully:


Lucien - the good news: Your use of accurate in-game dialogue helps present his famous first encounter in such a way that it can't help but conjure vivid memories for experienced Oblivion players. Your development of Maxical's thoughts during the encounter is enlightening and wonderfully done.

Lucien - the not quite so good news, and in fact the only fault I can find with your wonderful story: Your physical description of Lucien is not there. I would have started by looking at the lower portion of a black robe instead of a man's legs, while Maxical was in her tent. The encounter continues to be completely devoid of a physical description of this very important character. No black hood, no black robe, no ominous eyes?. It is only our own experience and familiarity with this encounter that helps fill in that gap. I wished you had applied a physical description of him to match your wonderful description of his "voice that sounded like the grave itself."

This is getting so good! Please continue.

You are absolutely right! Argh! I was watching a vid of him to get the dialogue, and thinking about that black cowl obscuring his face - what a failure!

** I fixed it, is that better?

Firstly, the editing you did certainly solved it. It was never a failure, simply a minor point. After all, I'm sure anyone reading is quite familiar with Lucien.

Secondly, don't let the critique items cloud the overall review. This was a wonderful story within an interesting bigger storyline. I would rather have you focus on the positive comments. Pat yourself on the back over that "I continued heading east..." quote I referenced. Then ask yourself "How did I do that? Why was it so effective?" and strive to continue and improve on 'painting' scenes and descriptions with words. I'm sure you are not going to respond with "Gee, I guess I am gettin' pretty good." - But I do hope you take the positive comments as motivation to continue.

:foodndrink: