Before I start, let me apologise for the spelling. I can't type today, the time shift has thrown me off real bad, but I need to get started before I forget this.

Year One
Prologue: Take Two

Dear Commander Varrus, Acting CO of the Imperial Guard

I appreciate your cooperation in helping to investigate the recent occurences and incidents regarding higher-ranking members and former members of the Mages Guild. As Regent Ocato and his advisors have no doubt lectured you on to the point of redundancy, the use of Guild Guides and other Mages Guild services has at times been all that has held our stumbling Empier together in these troubled times after the Oblivion Crisis. Due to the repercussions of those events, we have had thrust upon us great responsibilities that niether of us may have been fully prepared to shoulder.

I believe that your investigating officer, former Blades Agent Favonius, despite his track record of efficiency and discreet service, will be unable to identify and apprehend any valid suspect. As you have no doubt been made aware, only a powerful mage could have executed these murders in such a way as was done. As such, I am sending my own man, Evoker Jorran, a Redguard born here in Cyrodiil, due to the fact that he lacks all of the abilities neccessary to create such a crime scene as the ones found, yet would not be totally helpless should the attacker refuse, as many of the members of my Council have come to believe, to come peacefully.

I do not believe that you need a reminder, Commander, of exactly what is at stake should many more of my mages fall to this killer. So to ensure the maximum of efficiency and ability, my man is to be kept completely in the loop, given all informatipon at all times.

Best of luck to you and your investigation,
Acting Arch-Mage of the Cyrodiil Mages Guild,
Master-Wizard Raminus Polus

Imperial Guard Compound, Imperial City, 5 Last Seed, 4E1

"I don't need a partner." Favonis snarled, standing. It wasn't that he didn't mind the idea of someone else shouldering the work for once, but he noticed that errors in communication and differences of opinion could slow things down just when they needed to start to hurry.

"Agent Favonius, we have no choice." Commander Varrus sighed, leaning forward on his desk and rubbing his sore temples. He usually gave Favonius free run of any investigation he couldn't handle, but if Polus wanted something done his way, it had to be done his way. "I know you are perfectly capable of investigating on your own, as you have shown repeatedly since your discharge from the Blades-"

Favonius glared. That was still a sore subject for him, and in all likelihood it would always be.

"Sorry," Varrus said, remembering the circumstances. "But in either case, Polus wants his own man on it."

"Great. Someone for me to babysit for them while I'm trying to save thier asses. Any other good news?"

"No. Just remember, without the Mages Guild, what's left of the Empire-"

"-Has no infrastructure. I know. I used to be a part of the system, remember?"

"Yes, I remember. As such, while it may be tempting to draw this killer out using this Jorran guy as bait, that won't help it it makes the Mages Guild withdraw thier support."

Favonius sighed. He hated working with mages, always had, but even moreso now that a word from Polus would make or break a man. He found most of them to be arrogant pricks, but he knew Varrus was right, wether or not he needed a mage to find this guy, he did need to keep relations good with the Guild. He hated politics so much.

"Well, I guess I'll get started. where can I meet this Jorran guy?" Favonius said, exhaling in resignation as he leaned his hands on the back of the chair. While he was no longer a part of the Blades, the rigorous mental and physical training was sometimes all that kept him from just giving up in the new way of things. He didn't miss the irony.

"He's in Cheydinhal, you're to meet him there and investigate the latest killing. It's been frozen in the Mages Guild basemant since they found her." Varrus pushed his chair back and stood up, giving Favonius a handshake before looking out his window over the recruits running training drills. He closed his eyes as Favonius slammed the door behind him, letting the noises of the training field rise in the air toward him.

Good luck, or it's both our asses. Varrus thought, with a bitter smile.

Since you haven't shown Jorran in the story yet and have only told about him, I'd say you should keep it a bit of a mystery who exactly he is and what his talents are. In the initial section you shouldn't mention that both of their superiors are gone, the way you sign their names and introduction is a more convincing method you have already employed, so point it out becomes redundant. Now since Raminus isn't the top dog but he still has to get things done, have his offer of help sound more like a threat. Not "I thought you might need help", but a "Send your man to assist mine in this investigation".

The dialogue section is fairly sparse. Tell us a little about their surroundings in the compound. Also in the story as it proceeds I expect an explanation of why Favonius was allowed to live when he was discharged from the Blades.

I'll bear that in mind when I re-write this section (unless it conflicts with a different idea I had). Like I said, I've had a hard morning. Just let me get some coffee and I'll try to make a more.... not svcky introduction.

Sure. I've been doing laundry today without enough change for the machines, so I've been hanging the washed but not dried laundry all around my apartment this afternoon.

Okay, the prologue is edited. Still not my best stuff, but I just need to find my stride.

Chapter One

Regent Ocato stat and listened to the endless reports. Generals losing wars, all land routes plagued with bandits and other unseemly types, and to top it off a serial killer attacking mages all over Cyrodiil. It was times like these he wished that he had let someone else take the Chancellor job and he had stayed on as Arch-Mage. At least then he would be making money as the middleman instead of dealing with sycophantic politicians and nobles who wanted a piece of a pie that increasingly looked as though it was beyond saving.

"So, Raminus Polus has sent his own man to investigate the recent killings, particularly the most recent one in Cheydinhal," The Servant Atronach he had summoned continued, "the Imperial investigator is Former Blades Agent Favonius-"

"Hold, Favonius?" Ocato interrupted, sitting straighter and immediately paying attention. "Tell the pen-pushers down in the archives to pull the classified file. I want it up here by this evening."

"Sir?" The Atronach asked, it's shimmering orange face twisted in a caricature of a confused human "If I may be so bold, your reaction is very atypical of you. Normally you are unconcerned with the specifics of-"

"Do not question my orders, or I'll banish you back to Oblivion. I want all information on Favonius, no questions."

"Yes my lord, it shall be done." The Atronach said before it dissapeared in a shimmer of flame.

------------------------------

Favonius had to use the Guild Guide to get to Cheydinhal. As the only safe method of transportation, it was horribly overcharged, but it was this or dead on a roadside. Even a Blade, let alone a washed-up, former Blade, would think twice about taking a road. He frowned, knowing that he was trying to save the mages that were slowly strangling the Empire.

He materialized in the main foyer of the Cheydinhal Mages Guild. Several local guards surrounded a door, along with a handful of battlemages. He remembered even a year before this place had been a rot. The scandal with Falcar hadn't hurt in the long term, though. It had, strangely, helped the place. Money and resources were given to the Cheydinhal Guild to make up for the understaffing, and it had flourished since the Crisis. It had new equipment, it's own enchanting center, and quite a bit of superflous decoration, something that had always grated with the spartan lifestyle Favonius had been trained into.

Favonius approached the basemant door. After the typical question and answer session with the guards, favonius was finally allowed access to the basemant.

The reek of burnt flesh hit first. Then the stench of a temporal rift spell. The room had been frozen as soon as it had been discovered that a mage had been killed. Favonius at least could appreciate the quick thinking. As he entetred the room he also saw that someone else was there.

The Redguard was in all likelihood Jorran. He stood apart from the gruesome scene and took in the details. Favonius comiited the room to memory himself before approaching.

Lying on the floor was a charred, skeletal Argonian. As Deetsan, the Guild Head, was the only missing Argonian from the town, it was assumed to be her. Nothing in the room had been disturbed, but Favonius knew that it very well could have been, and made a mental note to closely inspect the tables and shelves.

"So, you must be Jorran."

"Favonius, right?" He replied. "Well, you can see that Deetsan looks to have been immoliated, but I don't think that's what killed her."

"And how is that?" Favonius asked. "It looks pretty well lethal to me, and it's hard to tell, but since Argonians don't chip I'd say no other wounds were inflicted."

"Ah, but you can't see what I see." Jorran said. "If you like, I can cast a spell pon you to temporarily let you see-"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"I don't do that. Just tell me what you see."

"Well, it looks as though a massive absorbtion spell was cast on her before she was mutilated. it's hard to tell, though, since the backwash from the flare and time spells are pretty visible too, but absorbtion spells have a very distinct signature."

"So you're saying that someone absorbed her life?"

"Along with her magicka, energy and abilities."

"What?"

"The absorbtion spell was massive. The fact that the killer masked his or her presence from the mages here and was still able to cast it suggests a truly powerful entity."

"What kind of power would it take to do that?" Favonius asked. He hated this investigation already. Here he was, a professional, and some mage was doing it all. He hated feeling useless.

"I don't know. My knowledge of any sort of offensive spells is limited, and while I do know Illusionary theories, I am absolutely useless at itself so I can't say how hard it would be to mask a magic signature from several different mages."

"So we don't know anything?"

"Not quite. While it's true that we are no closer to finding out how to stop this killer, we do at least know now his methods. First, he absorbs everything from the body. memories, experience, life itself. Why, we still don't know. But we also know that, in order to mask his own magic signature, he unleashes a powerful fire spell on the body to keep anyone from identifying the cause of death."

"Wait, how can you tell then?"

"People say I'm a mysticism prodigy. I can see the world as others don't, wether or not that's true."

I hate mages. So much. Favonius found himself thinking, almost jealously.

Well okay, changed the title because the old one svcked. Now it's "Year One." Hope you enjoy. And seriously, anything you don't like tell me. We're her to learn. or at least I am.

Chapter Two

To Grandmaster Jauffre

As acting regent of the Empire, it has become imperative that I may see the file on Former Agent Favonius. As you have no doubt heard, a mysterious entity is hunting powerful mages, and he has been asked to investigate alongside a Mages Guild investigator. Normally I am unconcerned with such small matters, but this is a special case.

Due to the time-honored Blades protocol on members and former members, two things have happened recently that have hindered my own insights. Firstly, when one is a Blade, it is understood that he is a Blade for life, and if he attempts to leave or otherwise defect, he is to be hunted down and either executed on the spot or to have his tongue cut out and be given as an Arena slave until he has been killed. Obviously, Favonius suffered neither fate. The other hindrance is my inability to see the classified files and acertain why that is. I am not the Emperor, but until one can be found I speak with his authority. It is an imperative command that I be given Favonius' file to determine his qualifications for such a case. Whatever your traditions may say, I am the ruler of the Empire for the moment at the very least. You owe me your allegiance.

Regent of the Imperial Throne,
High Chancellor Ocato

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Favonius sat quietly and thought as Jorran used his mysticism spells, a type of telepathy only recently becoming common in the Guild and other mgickal institutions, to contact his superiors. He sipped his mead tastelessly as he mulled over the details, the possible motivations.

In this day and age, everyone was trying to gain power from the great vacuum the Septim's left behind. This killer seemed simillar, if more literal. While everyone else was vieing for political clout, he or she was literally taking the powers of other mages. Whoever it was was clearly powerful to an unclear extreme, and that didn't exite Favonius at all. All the other serial killers he'd caught were totally average in terms of appearance and ability, and they were bad enough. Now a crazy and powerful one, although he probably also lookd and acted average in his -day-to-day dealings, much like a killer he'd tracked across the Empire, who wound up being a seemingly harmless flin trader.

Favonius looked through options in his head. No one could be trained that well and not know some mage somewhere. He took a bite of the rubbery food he'd ordered. He always wndered why he ordered food in Cheydinhal. It was always disgusing and there were always the Orums watching everyone's every move. That suggested a Telvanni, but they were almost exclusive to Morrowind a Coven Witch, more common in Cyrodiil than Telvanni, but still rare outside of the far west, and a Guild Mage, common all across the Empire.

Switching from one train of though to another, he looked through is mental lists of powerful mages. Several he crossed off definitively, people like Polus and the guild heads from other branches who were well and accounted for. Although when magic was involved strange things were possible. For the moment, he crossed them off anyway. Then there was Ocato himself. He would have trouble figuring out where he had been, and may even risk his own life if he wasn't careful. He could phrase it as though he was trying to establish if he knew anyone....

Once again he changed tack. He also didn't know where this Jorran had been. He claimed to be bad at Destruction and Illusion, but claims were not worth much. He was also in the "maybes."

Then he considered other ideas. Someone powerful, but who had gone rogue, was possible, or someone foreign, like a visiting Telvanni or Coven Witch. He had heard stories of the terrible magicks they practiced, and while most of it was probably propoganda he wasn't sure how much. He would need to ask someone who knew such things.

After a while of thinking, he got up and walked across the room, keeping the Orums in the corner of his eye, and tapped Jorran on the shoulder.

"Yes?" he said, his eyes blank and elsewhere.

"Ask Polus if there are any foreign mages or known rogue ones in the area, someone who wouldn't need the Mages Guild to get around and who'se absence wouldn't be noticed."

Jorran was silent for a second.

"He claims that three Telvanni passed through Cyrodiil recently. One wanted to see the jungle, and never returned from his first expedition. Dunmer male, Relas Hemawia, presumed dead."

"Next?"

"Dunmer male, Hetman Uumas, passed through Cheydinhal mages guild hall and left to Anvil two days ago, not present at time of the killings."

That we're aware. Favonius thought. He put him down as a "maybe."

"Breton Male, Slave, property of Hetman Uumas, trained in Alteration to be able to navigate Telvanni towers, incapable of any other magic aside from natural racial ability."

"Very well then. We're going to Anvil."

"Magister Polus will attempt to locate any known rogue mages and give us thier locations and habits if possible, but it may take a while."

"I already said, we're going to Anvil first. A Telvanni mage seems like the logical place to start." Favonius said, knowing that the chances of finding this killer on thier first try were all but nothing.

The changes you made were good ones, now it seems like he's pushing the limit of his power a little and forcing them into something they don't want. I'm not sure though how the guild guides are holding the empire together. I think the guide guide concept overall is a failure of foresight on Bethesda's part for Morrowind because it tramples the Mage's Guild teleportation from the earlier game and it opens the door to logistical problems. Why use a transport ship if a guild guide can warp things from one warehouse to another one across the country? We know they can teleport items because you don't arrive naked after using their service. Even if they can only teleport two hundred pounds worth per hour, that would still be a hundred times cheaper and quicker than moving them by ship or cart. With the number of guild guides already present in Morrowind, roads could be left to waste and platoons of soldiers could be teleported into anyplace where there is trouble. The world becomes a series of walled towns as everything gets a little more boring and the npc's get a little fatter all the time.

In the second paragraph, you've got to use some periods. You used seven commas in one sentence. I'm certain that's some kind of record.

I know what you were going for by saying he wouldn't be totally helpless against the person they're tracking, but setting them up to be the suicidal bait for a madman only works when you have someone to close the noose. I also think that the problem is urgent enough (having your cadre being slaughtered could be considered urgent) for Raminus to send an ass kicker to put the death blow on this guy. You're trying to squirrel out of that in this paragraph, but you may have said too much. Make Raminus seem confident in Jorran (whether his whooping skills are great or not) and reveal later why things happened as they did.

The last paragraph brings home that you're been reminding Varrus of things he shouldn't have to be reminded of. Raminus seems to be accusing Varrus of being incompetent.

But what does it mean that the empire would have no infrastructure? What do the guild guides do that the empire can't live without?

Other than that question, the paragraph works nicely. This taste of the characters is natural, even though you've got the setup for a buddy cop comedy in the works. Think about it: Older pissed off white cop and younger energetic black cop go to investigate a serial killer. http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0070355/ Hehe.

Umm, are you sure they keep files on people? That seems un-elder-scrolly. But it's kind of strange to send a fire atronach to go grab personel files from a room full of paper. If they do keep files on people, they might have to re-write all of them. Now the rest of this interaction is well paced.

The description of the scene is clever, with the magical effects kind of sitting there for the viewing. The sidebar of Favonius's feelings works appropriately too. I'd question though a Redguard trained in mysticism. Not that stereotypes can't be broken, but the games have presented Redguards as generally disliking magic, with mysticism being the type they hate most.

Yeah, I figured I may have been pushing that with the infrastructure. But it is kind of a play on the logistical problems of non-magic transport. Think of it: An empire plagued by banditry and piracy on every turn has only one alternative, and only one group who can guarantee you won't pop out half inside a rock. Figured I'd play on that. Now that Polus is big for his boots, what will he try to get away with?

Keep it coming with the criticism, though. It's so refreshing to get someone who's genuinely "Hey, try this and maybe it'll come out a better read."

And as for the Atronach, he's not gonna be touching it, only the guys who are allowed to see the stuff can go in there. "Let not the Atronach know what the left hand is doing. And screw the fingers," usual Imperial stuff. As for the files, I always got out of that scene in "The Wolf Queen" that there was a big archive somewhere where anything the Emperor needed to know at any given time was on file. The Blades are watching you, [censored]!

Well, back to the story, such as it is:

-------------------------------------

Dear Regent Ocato

You speak with the authority of the Empeor's office, however, it must be an order from the Emperor himself, not the leader of the interregnum government, no matter how much respect I may hold for you. I do not forget when we fought alongside each other in that final, terrible battle through the streets of the Imperial City. However, it has been an order of all previous masters of the Blades that as long as a Blade lives, his identity is only what he himself reveals, to the limits that the Emperor and whoever holds my former office permit. While Favonius is no longer under the jurisdiction of our order, until his death that rule will still apply. However, I can tell you with full confidence that the matter which led to the unorthodox expulsion of Agent Favonius from our sacred order will in no way hinder his ability to apprehend this villain and allow you to restore order to the Empire.

I understand your concern, truly, but what you ask is not possible. No politician, no matter how powerful or connected, will convince me to betray the traditions of the Blades. I ask only that we are allowed to continue as a monastic order of Talos until such time as the Imperial Throne is fully restored. I mean no threat or any manner of political defiance, I am simply incapable of doing what you ask.

May Talos Guide You,
Father Abbot Jauffre.

--------------------------------------

Favonius could safely croos Jorran off the "maybes" list.

The only difference between this murder scene and the last was that there were two bodies. As wit hthe last, it was in the basemant of the Mages Guild, this time in Anvil. Nothing was changed, nothing was harmed. Between when this wizard and his slave, according to the local mages they were peace envoys making a tour of Cyrodiil's circut, arrived and when he and Jorran had the killer had struck again.

"Jorran, see if Polus has come up with any rogue mages in the in-between."

"Yes." Jorran said, mechanically. He backed into a corner and his face went totally blank. Or a little more blank than usual. Favonius thought. He did find it odd that Jorran seemed never to show any emotion. He seemed fairly young, only mid twenties at the latest, which was nothing for a skilled mage. It had taken years of killing, watching death and nearly dying for Favonius to build such a barrier as to show so little emotion at a dead body. He could only imagine the trauma neccessary to make Jorran so empty at such an age.

"There are no known rogue mages who match the skillset neccessary anywhere near Anvil. Until recently, Polus had a lead north of Cheydinhal, but he has been apprehended by a troop of Battlemages. He could not have been here and returned in the timeframe neccessary to commit this double murder." Jorran stated, in his pathologically matter-of-fact way.

"So we're back to square one." Favonius said.

"Not exactly." Jorran stated. "After interviewing the other mages, I have discovered that another mage passed though in the timefr-"

"Get out with it!" Favonius said. "Who? When?"

"An unknown mage in a dark blue hood threatened the Guild Guide and was teleported posthaste to Bruma. His entrance was not seen. This suggests that the being in question is capable of teleporting, but had been rendered unable to do so." Jorran explained.

"If it's weak, it's probably not our killer." Favonius mused, "Especially if we're right about it absorbing power. But we have no other leads, let's get on it."

"Of course, logic would dictate that if it is the killer, it could be leading us into a trap. The New Guildhall in Bruma is known for it's structural instability despite it's considerable construction expense. It would be all too easy to collapse the entire building with even a simple spell, if he or she was too weak to use his usual methods."

Favonius considered for a second. "Perhaps you could create a telekinetic barrier over our heads, along with any other protective spells you know, just in case they can use thier 'usual methods.' At this point, I really don't want to lose the closest thing to a lead we have."

"It is a sound plan, such as it is, and it is also all we have, as you previously stated. There are few alternatives to direct persuit at this point, however, let us proceed cautiously."

They walked out of the basemant to the first floor, past the front desk and into the back room where the guild guide offered transport for exorbidant prices.

"This is an urgent Mages Guild Investigation ordered by acting Arch-Mage Raminus Polus. Allow us passage to the New Guildhall in Bruma." Jorran droned. The mage nodded in reply and began the spell.

Favonius sometimes could just tell when things were going to be terrible. His intuitions were almost always accurate, and as the spell began to transport them away, he had a feeling that the next few moments would be.

Jauffre stood on the walls of Cloud Ruler Temple, and watched the two special agents dash towards Bruma. They did not have very long. In mere moments, Favonius and Jorran would appear in the Bruma Guildhall, and if the agents could not get there in time, what little remained of the Empire would crumble to dust in such a quiet death, such a forlorn whisper, few would even know that everything he and his predecessors since the days of Reman had bled and cried to build would be undone for years to come.

------------------------------

It had always been a strange ability Favonius had, that in times of stress and pain he would almost freeze time, and become totally aware of everything around him. It had made him quite valuable to the Blades, but the downside was that what was, for most, a few seconds of pain was to him in his hypersense an eternity of torture. As such, he knew as soon as he smelled the smoke, heard the screams, and felt time slow that he was going to suffer. he prepared his mental barriers as best he could.

Second 1:

The smoke assaulted his nostrils and made him cough. He saw a body fall lifelessly to the ground as the last threads of the person's lifeforce entered the blue-robed wizard. A pulse of energy emitted from the killer and the body ignited. The damaged pieces of the building began to fall all around them. The fire raced up tapestries and the rare, valuable cloths covering the front desk.

Second 2:

The killer turned, his sunken, rotting face a mask of familliar horror to Favonius. It picked up a table with telekenisis and threw it full force at him, picking up a fleeing mage and absorbing him as well. The fire continued to consume everything, despite the attempts of one mage to extinguish it with intense frost spells.

Second 3:

Jorran leapt in front of Favonius and grabbed the table telekinetically, throwing it back at the killer as the new body dropped to the ground. The killer reached out with telekenisis himself and threw it back at Jorran before picking up the mage who was trying to extingiush the fire and beginning to absorb him as well.

Second 4:

Jorran was hit full force, and was crushed between the table and the wall, his artificial skeleton splintering and seperating in dozens of places. The table landed with a heavy thud, and the broken Centurion landed with a metallic clank as his dislodged mechanichal parts rattled around inside his artificial flesh. Favonius drew his sword and began to charge as the firefighting mage was also absorbed. The empty husk of his body was dropped.

Second 5:

Calaxes picked up Favonius telekinetically on one side, and absorbed yet another mage with the other. Purest hate raged in his dead eyes as he looked at Favonius, then threw him with bone-shattering force against the wall, breaking his left arm and leg, along with two ribs. The fire nearby burned small patches of his skin.

Second 6:

Calaxes threw Favonius against the other wall, breaking his other two limbs and several other ribs. he then tossed him aside, and Favonius landed like a ragdoll, his limbs twisted painfully around him. Agony washed through his senses, and he knew it would only cntinue until hios hypersense ended or he died. The smoke from more, closer flames began to cause him to cough, causing fresh pain to slice through him like a blade as the vibrations rattles his broken body.

Second 7:

Calaxes threw the table trhough the roof and leapt out before vanishing. The table landed next to Favonius, the vibrations sending yet more fresh agony through his splintered bones.

The next ten seconds began to speed up, until he was back in normal time. Finally able, he shouted in pain. More of the building began to collapse around him. Jorran's fingers began to twitch, the small mettallic noises revelaing that, while damaged, he, or rather it, was still "alive."

After the seventeenth second, two men burst through the door. Favonius recognized them. Agents Caius and Augustus. Caius, formerly the head of operations in Morrowind, gave the orders.

"Grab the Centurion, we'll attempt to salvage it's memories. I'll try to take Agent Favoinus back without killing him by accident. It looks as though he should already be dead." He said.

At the time, Favonius wished for death. Years after murdering Calaxes in the sacristy of the Temple of the One, the ghost of his final mission as a Blade had returned to haunt him.

Wouldn't it be funny though... burn it all! Nobody pays taxes this year!

This needs a little cleaning up, and the "nothing was changed" needs to be part of the "between when" or the between when doesn't work.

The problem between the two is that Favonius in this section is just getting things explained to him, and the times that isn't going on, he shouldn't be suggesting the things he's suggesting. Being pissed and ineffective is fine for the role of the rival buddy cop pair, but not for the main characters I think. Favonius should be trying proving how worthwhile he is because now, everyone seems to doubt him. Jorran needs some qualities or explanation to endear him to the reader. We've only seen him a little, and all we know is that he is stoic, presumptuous, and emasculated by his superiors. Not a lot of reason to like him yet.

What I do like is how you're combining elements of the games you've played to mesh a more complete world together, and then expanded upon the utility. The mix has been working in your favor for the story.

Some phrasing needs to be redone, like Jorran talking about the Bruma guild. He isn't a talkative opinion guy, yet he's doing a used car salesman job on the Bruma guild. Magical charges at critical points are too modern day in terminology. Besides, these are simple enough wooden buildings that you just need a fireball to rack up the damage. Which brings back what Favonius would have known. Let Jorran do the explaining of the magic. A sound plan though? They both just agreed to walk into what they think is a trap based on the first gut guesses that came to mind. Thinking that magical charges are going to take down the guild isn't even a good guess, they're fighting a jerk who magically slaughters people and they're worried about the roof falling in? Unlikely. Ice bolt to the nuts: likely. Hell, summoning a Clannfear would be a more likely trap to Jorran's logic.

And the last sentence, "At the last second before he and Jorran were consumed by the intra-dimentional nexus that would take them to Bruma, Favonius couldn't shake the feeling that he was not going to enjoy the next seventeen seconds.". There's almost nothing good to bad to say about it other than, whoa dude, no. Don't put that in. It feels like the Holy Grail of corny.

Push it a little, give these guys some teeth and indignation. Ocato was the former Archmage of the Mages Guild, and is currently the Chancellor as well as being the regent. Firstly he doesn't need to be explaining the situation of the empire to the chief spy of the empire. Secondly, he has no reason to be polite and barely has reason to take an interest in this situation at all. Under his own power he should be threatening to have the Grand Master's balls on rye for not obeying him, not trying to justify himself to a political weakling like Jauffre. To have as much power as either of these guys, you have to be an unbearable ass.

The story is moving along well in this section, but other than that it's a little short and to the point. Generally in the story you've had the characters talking about the murders, or thinking about the murders. This works better on tv because one of the detectives is usually sixy. In written form it leaves the characters a little flat. As readers we're concerned with the story, but not the characters in it. I do want to know more about the murders, but the characters so far are more expendable than they should be.

It would be appropriate to say "he used his mysticism" if you were speaking from Favonius's point of view, but as the narrator talking you should be a little more specific.

You do start quite a few paragraphs or phrases close together with "He", break the repetition a little. Also, refering to serial killers as "totally average" is quite jarring.

Now, I don't know if this is what you were intending, but being able to teleport between the cities they need to go to on someone else's magic means they could complete this investigation in a weekend. The letters being sent back and forth between the higher-uppers would arrive in too short a time unless they were summoning daedra as mail carriers like they did for the Thieves Guild quest. Jauffre doesn't have that ability. Also using the telepathic communication commonly (it is well rooted in the lore that it exists, you're safe on that count) the army employing it would have near perfect and instant battlefield communication. Just something to consider.

I'd rephrase that. AFAIK, A body doesn't fall lifelessly but instead: a lifeless body falls. I could be wrong though. It could also be a bit more dramatic. Innocent people being slaughtered and you just phrase it as something completely irrelevant. Feels a bit emotionless.

To the reader, imo, it's not really clear what exactly happens when they enter the intra dimensional space and exit it when reaching their destination.
I'd flesh out the detailed seconds. It's a good idea but needs more detail imo.

Few remarks:
The killer caught it and threw it back? How?

Killer = broken Centurion = Calexes?
If you mean to keep this vague, no problem, if not, explain.

Okay, I have a lot of writing to do on other things, so I probably won't get to new chapters until at least tomorrow. But I want to say I appreciate the help, folks, and keep it coming!

BTW RemkoNL: I meant that Jorran is a centurion, the killer is Calaxes Septim. I'll also touch up the details on earlier bits tomorrow (or when I get the chance).

Thanks again, I appreciate it everyone!

Look forward reading more!

Okay, I edited some of the older chapters a little. Still far from my best stuff, but I'm starting to get into the pace of the story. as Musashi said, everything is rythm. Well, I'l try for another chapter now. Usually, once i hit the right point I tend to do things faster and better. it's coming, just be patient with me.

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Favonius' eyes slowly drifted open. His breaths came in short, erratic bursts. His vision was blurry, and his hearing was also strange, like people around him were speaking in a large cave. As the shapes moved and the voices echoed around him, he began to notice that his other perceptions were also distant, as though he were feeling everything through another person's mind. It had been very long time since he had touched the mind of another person, but not so long as to forget it completely.

This isn't right, he thought, I should be feeling normal, but I'm feeling myself like this.

As he began to regain more consiousness, memories of his seventeen seconds in hell flooded back. So did the pain. Strangely, as his sight clarified, his hearing focused and his other senses returned, the pain remained distant, like a memory too clearly relived. After a moment, when he began to realize where he was, he also realized that the pain was sinmply a memory.

"Thank you, Heldonwe, you may leave." Jauffre said, "return to your duties at the wall."

"Yes, sir." Said the Altmer who was standing with his hand hovering an inch over Favonius' chest.

Favonius' mind went in two directions. One was rage, he had never wanted to return here after what they made him do. The other...

The other was the sweet rememberance of home. The smells of the fire in the Great Hall, of the Dunmer Chef's horrible cooking coming from the mess hall, the forge downstairs, the alchemy laboratory, the noises of clanging swords from the training courtyard, the clinking of armor as Blades patrolled the halls and other places of this ancient building.

Like it or not, Favoinus knew he was home again.

The Altmer healer left the room, and Jauffre began to speak, knowing Favonius would be listening. "You were nearly killed in the Bruma guildhall. Most of your bones had splintered. However, despite that, Heldonwe was able to fix your bones over the past two weeks. It is a miracle that you survived at all, let alone heal so quickly."

Favonius sat up. he was stiff, but if he was this fit a mere two weeks after being left broken in a collapsing building, he was grateful. However, he knew how the Blades worked.

"What do you want?" He asked, seeing that Jaufrre, although so old that he could barely move in it, was wearing his full suit of armor.

"Were you to go outside, you would see that Ocato has accused the Blades of treason. As you know-"

"We are the fist of the Emperor, not an arm of the government." Favonius quoted.

"Exactly. And Ocato believes that, as he is regent, we owe our allegiance to him. he wanted the file on you, but I could not tell him that Emperor Uriel had it burned when he released you from service. it would have led to the question of why."

Favonius knew better to ask. when he had asked the Emperor why, those years before, all he recieved was a despairing look. He knew Jauffre would know, he was both the Emperor's right hand and his confidante. He also knew Jauffre would never betray that trust, even after the Emperor's death.

"This still dosen't answer what you want from me."

"While he does not know it, Ocato and I do have a shared intent: this killer, we need him dead."

"He already was." Favonius said. "It was Calaxes."

Jauffre blanched. "Calaxes? How?"

"I don't know yet. If you want me to kill him again, I'm fine with it. He shattered me and left me to die, and while fair's fair, I don't much give a damn. I'll kill him again anyway."

Jauffre nodded. "Very well. Ocato also believes that you are here, and aware of why you were released. He plans to have you interrogated. You remember where the secret passage was. use it, and make contact with Agent Hetman, A Dunmer, in Wayrest. They've sealed off our long-range magic, so teleporting won't be an option."

Favonius nodded. He didn't relish the prospect of needing to walk to Skyrim before being able to teleport, but he did have a few plans for it.

"Take what equipment you need from the Forge and Alchemy Lab. This mission will be difficult, perhaps moreso than any you have previously undertaken." Jauffre said. "For the Blades and Empire."

"May Talos Guide Me." Favonius finished the miniature prayer instinctively. It was like he never left. he stood up and walked down the hallways, remembering the layout as though his years away were a weekend.

If all that is to save Favonius and Jorran, you may be overplaying the epicness of the situation. There are others who can investigate this. Also, you've got a super-sized last sentence.

Now the bit at the end of the last chapter makes a bit more sense.

I think taking it a second at a time is a little abrupt in separation of the action. It also leaves you open to weird speculation on how much can happen in a second. For example, in second two a table is thrown and a mage is vampired. It's as if you've created the timeslow you're going for in reverse, where the enemy is faster than holy hell while your main characters are even slower in their responses. A brain would have to be sharp as glass to even appropriate an adequate response to two people teleporting into the room in the middle of a hectic slaughter, much less whap them so quickly. Not that it can't be done by this fellow, but despite the action I think a slower pacing of movement would be in order.

Also, I didn't see it coming that Jorran was a T triple eight. That being the case, you don't even have to mention the word artificial. It can't be artifical if he was built that way. How do roboties perform the magics? This all does invalidate my earlier questioning of a Redguard performing mysticism, well played sir.

I get what you're saying, but trust me on that, I do have a reasoning, but it comes later.


Yeah, you were right, that was cheesy as all hell before. Just shows what happen when I use lofy language.


Probably true, it is wierd and abrupt, but yes, the killer is fast. I'll wiork on making this better later.


Thank you sir. And as for the robomagics, that'll also come with time.

I'll definitely try to do this later, but my day is: work, bumload of papers, teach a martial arts class, walk home from there. So by the time I have time, I'll be wiped. But by tomorrow I'll definitely have the next bit up.

Favonius slid open the door to the forge. His own armor lay, battered and useless, in the corner. The old forgemaster, Gaius Artorius, sat in the corner, his back to the door as he tinkered with some new contraption. As Favonius entered he turned and smiled. He had lost even more teeth since the last time Favonius was here.

"Ah, mah boy," Gaius said in his thick accent. Imperial he may have bee, but he was raised in Bruma and had a thick Nordic brogue. "Ah see ye've come bahck to us."

"Yeah, I have. I hear you have something for me?" Favonius said, it was a familliar exchange, one they had after every mission during Favonius' time in the Blades. It made him feel both more and less comfortable as the feeling that he had never actually left the Blades became more sharp and obvious.

"Aye. First, Ye've got a weapon." He said, pulling out the box under his table in the corner. "It's nuthin' special, but it'll get the job done."

"More standard-issue? You remember how fast I blow through these."

"Aye, an' thaht's why ye'll never get a special weapon outtah meh!" Gaius laughed. "But as for armor, Jauffre was VERY partiklar!"

Gaius pulled out the armor next. It was a cross between the battle armor Jauffre favored and the light assassin gear used by field agents. It was jet black and made primarily of leather, but it also had black steel plates attatched to critical points such as the chest, shoulders, shins and groin.

"It's mereleh steel, mah boy, but it'll stop a knifew in the dark better'n clean leather." He said. Favonius gathered the items with a nod and turned to leave, when Gaius called him back.

"Hold, boy. Ah've goy one last thing you may wannae look at."

He turned to the device Gaius had been working on. "Is that from Jorran?"

"Aye, and it took meh a week poring over translated Dwemer manuals our agents got for meh to get it goin'."

"'Get it going?' What do you mean?"

Suddenly a small green image of a redguard appeared over the device.

"Hello." A distorted version of Jorran's voice said. "It is good to see you again, Agent Favonius."

"What? You're alive!?"

"Not exactly. As you are now aware, I never was alive to begin with. I am, however, functional still." Jorran explained. "Since Forgemaster Gaius worked on me, he restored my memories up to and including out battle with the killer."

"Oh, well that's good." Favonius said.

"Yes, I was able to anylize the data from the battle to determine his methods. The next time, we will not be cought by surprise."

"'We?'" Favonius asked.

"According to the Forgemaster, I am to travel with you. We are the only ones who have faced the killer and lived, as such the Grandmaster believes that we should work together to destroy him."

"Well, I need all the help I can get." Favonius said, "Especially after last time."

"Very well. I am going to travel inside of your consiousness."

'What?" Favonius asked, suddenly not so happy.

"Be aware, this will feel a little... odd."

"Hey wait!" Favonius said as a green spark jumped between the device and his head, and the image of Jorran disappeared.

Breathe in... breathe out Jorran "said" inside Favonius' mind.

"What? Get out of my head!" Favonius shouted out loud. His head swam with conflicts and confusion. He realized that he wasn't breathing, and consiously did so. His eyes drifted different directions and he saw double, and his vision was tinted a slight green.

Hold for a moment, Agent Favonius, and remember to keep breathing. Jorran replied.

Favonius, realizing that he could do nothing at the moment, did so, focusing on breathing as a strange new sensation washed through his consiousness. It was invasive and cold, like a wound from a frost-enchanted blade, only inside his very being instead of a healable flesh wound. he followed the other thing around his own mind, as Jorran integrated himself with Favonius' subconsious, revealing long-forgotten ideals and memories. As Jorran settled, breathing came naturally again, his eyes began to focus, and his vision returned to it's normal color.

"Alright," Favonius said inside his mind, "now get out of my head."

Agent Favonius, the most prudent course of action would be to continue in this manner. I am at no risk of being taken by the enemy, and you now have me to aid in combat at all times, Jorran said, not in those words but in ideas, impulse and images. Not only that, but seperately we would not trust eachother. I would believe you wanted to leave me and you would believe I wanted you killed. However, not only do we now both sense eachothers thoughts impulses and- Jorran passed over a somewhat horrifying memory of an Argonian prosttute with a distatse for clothing and the reptillian version of genital warts -Oh dear that's disgusting- also, neither of us can kill the other. If one dies, meaning if you die, so will the other, namely, myself. My self-preservation programming is very strong, so you have nothing to fear from me.

Wether through the integration of thier minds or simply because he understood the logic, Favonius let up for the moment.

"What are your combat abilities?" He asked, while walking towards the Alchemy lab. he was getting used to the internal dialogue quickly, and Jorran was intrigued. favonius felt this, and said "I'm not sure how fast one could say is 'normal' for integrating another mind into your own, but either way, just feel lucky we're not in combat."

Remembering the previous question, Jorran responded:

Unless you allow me, I can do very little. I could, concievably, block a weaker-willed person from using thier greater abilities and hinder them in many other ways, but to one such as you it would be like throwing rocks at the tide. You Naturals are often stubborn in theory, but few can back it up with true drive.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

I can remove natural, subconsious inhibitions, thus increasing your strength and speed in critical moments. I can also improve your reaction time significantly. Also, there is something I believe may only be unique to you.

Favonius tossed a few standard healing and energizing potions in his supply bag, along with some rations and a supply of drinking water. "And what might that be?" he wondered.

In your mind there is a... cache, for lack of a better word. It appears that many years ago you were fairly adept in several magickal schools. Not exeptional by any means, but for someone who has no formal magic education quite adept.

Favonius snarled. Jorran logged the emotion, and the memory associated with it.

You gave up magic after you killed Calaxes. However, he is not dead, as your memories have shown me that he is the killer we seek. As such, I can help you begin to remember the techniques.

'Well, like I said, we need all the help we can get." Favonius said as he opened the false wall to the secret passage out of the temple. "I may not like it, but it looks like I'll need it again. Fill me in."

I am sorry, I cannot simply return your skill to you. With none of the natural discipline that comes with training, your magic would be a threat to yourself and others, specifically me. I can, however, open the door for you to learn the old spells far faster than you did the first time, and hope the discipline returns at the same pace. It is a risky option, but as you have told me repeatedly, we need all the help we can get.

Favonius closed his eyes and acknowledged the wisdom of Jorran's "words" as he opened the door to Favonius' subconsious.

Favonius worked his way down the long, dark corridor through the mountain. It was a wonder of Reman's empire, thier skilled engineers using a clever mix of Akaviri enginuity and human tenacity, steel and magic coming together. The enchanted torches gave scarce light, just enough to ensure a person that they had not turned themselves around and keep people from slowly turning towards the walls on the sides.

As he walked, the twmperature got colder and the passage began to gradually go upwards, until it became full-blown stairs. Small Skyrim ice mushrroms had begun to grow in the corners, along with some hardy plants that used the darkness as a shelter from animals. As he went farther and higher, he finally saw the small light from outside.

When he emerged from the tunnel, he again experienced the "Best perk of our job," as they had called it in his day. The passage cut through the Jerralls and ejected them at a high altitude on the far side, offering a magnificent view of southern Skyrim. The snow fell lightly, and Favonius saw a large blizzard forming in the distance. Several of the valleys were also snowing over, but a few of the ones in the lowes elevations were still somewhat green. Strangely, he saw no campfires burning in the distance, despite the cold. This perplexed him, as conventional wisdom had it that there were hundreds, even thousands, of small bandit clans dotting the roads of the Empire.

He began to walk down the hidden path from the passageway, the snow beginning to pick up and easily covering his tracks. As he looked back, he saw that the old enchantment was still effective: from anything beyond a few feet away it was totally invisible, a seemingly blank rock face. The path led down to the back roads, but Favonius determined that, in case the lack of bandit camps from above was just a fluke, he would rough it through the wilds until he reached Whiterun, which would be the easiest to reach from there. He had considered Falkreath and Riften, but the terrain between him and them was too rocky and mountainous, even if Riften was technically 'closer."

His new armor had a hood, and he put it on as the wind began to pick up. It was quite a quality piece, keeping him quite warm considering the circumstances. However he knew that if night fell and he didn't have a fire going and some shelter up, he would die. It was moring when he set out, but for hours upon hours he walked through the cold, silent wilderness until the sun began to set.

Jorran calculated several different factors at once, and Favonius processed the information for himself as they walked. Niether one thought a consious word, and the silence of the early evening in Skyrim became more opressive as Jorran's mental map and calculation of distance proved true: they may not be able to reach Whiterun that day, but an old Dwemer outpost had still stood the test of time.

It was nothing like the massive ruined structures of Morrowind and Hammerfell, to be sure. It was more the materials used to maker those in the shape and size of a small hunting shack. As soon as they stepped in, they were warmed by the machinery, still functioning after all those years.

The slight sounds of the devices running broke the opressive silence of Skyrim, and Jorran spoke.

This way station was created by the Dwemer who left Morrowind following the path of Volendrung. They were built in case others decided to follow our path.

"Our?" Favonius asked, using a small heating device in the corner to warm up some broth he had taken from the temple.

My creators were among those who settled in Hammerfell, or Volenfel as we called it then. That is why my appearance is set to look like a Redguard

"And not a Dwarf? Why did they make you anyway?"

To be truthful, I was always designed to be a spy. That is why the Dwemer used such enchantments to create me with the ability to use mysticism and to jump from mind to mind. With it, I can see thoughts and report them to faraway places and people. I am the only one to function properly. The rest of my model were destroyed after going... rogue.

"Rogue?" Favonius said, as he began to eat his slight dinner, thankful that he didn't need to call attention to himself by starting a campfire in the darkness.

Touching the thoughts of living beings caused them to become... jealous. The souls used to create us were very powerful to be able to so seamlessly simulate a living being, however we lacked the freedom that Naturals, as we came to call your kind, had over thier own decisions. And then, he came.

"Who is 'he?'" Favonius asked, now fully engrossed in Jorran's tale.

He saw the images. The memories. he saw how Jorran saw, everything tinted green with numbers and Dwemer characters scrolling down his sight. This 'he' had been the first of Jorran's kind, an independent Spy Centurion. He had become a 'he" as opposed to an "it..."

"It fell in love?"

We prefer "he" in these circumstances Agent Favonius. The link we all shared caused us to feel this emotion as well. However, the residual memories of the Ra Gada I had been based on somehow allowed me to resist. The memories are, of course, incomplete when a soul is trapped and used in enchantment. Whatever they were, they caused me to escape the slaughter that ensued when my compatriots went mad with jealousy and attempted to become fully human.

Favonius toosed the small empty can aside, and lay down on the warm, softly vibrating ground.

"Well, we'll have more time for stories tomorrow. Now I think it's time to rest."

The duo reached Whiterun the next day. It was immediately apparent that they wouldn't be able to get in by any conventional means. The gate was heavily guarded, and the heads of Imperial legionairres were piked along the wall. The massive grey walls were ancient, and bore thew signs of many a fierce battle. The gate was fairly large, but had all the equipment to deter a siege. Two portcullis, several murder ho9les, arrow slits, everything a city accustomed to war would have.

"Jorran?"

There are several protrusions on the south wall, however that wall is the most heavily guarded. I suggest further reconnaisance.

"Noted." Favonius said before walking up to the gate. Jorran, shocked both by Favonius' brazeness and the subtle genius of his plan, stayed silent.

"Halt!" The enourmous Nordic guard shouted. The smaller guard, also a Nord but much smaller and with a businesslike air, began to speak:

"The Imperial and Regional Governments have been abolished here, stranger. This city belongs to the people now." He continued, "The Imperial agents here have all been rooted out, as have the corrupt and powerful that we ourselves bred. However, the city is off-limits to outsiders until we have stabilized our Republic."

"That won't happen if you don't let me see your leaders." Favonius said. "I am not your enemy, rather, we may be friends in this case. I am also an enemy of the Empire."

The two guards conferred for a moment, and the smaller one ran into the city through a smaller door in the gate.

This plan is dangerous. Jorran said. If you misstep even once, we will surely be killed.

Undoubtably. Favonius thought. But it's our best chance to get to Wayrest quickly, and alleviate pressure on the Blades.

The smaller guard came back after a few minutes.

"Hlveti will see you. Come with me." He said.

He led Favonius through the same door he used. The city was in ruins, for the most part, and the sounds of battle could still be heard in small bursts in the distance. After a few moments, it dies down completely, and a whoop of victory sounded on elated Nordic voices.

"The day is won, and the mongrel conquerors have been routed!" One Nord shouted as a pack of bloodied rebels danced by in ecstasy.

"Truly this is a glorious day!" Favonius' escort, a man in his middle ages with smooth hands but a healthy, athletic build whispered to himself, "my dreams have finally been realized."

Favonius also smiled. If all the Imperialists in the city had been killed, his plan would be so much the easier. They walked towards one of the only buildings still standing in the central square, a large edifice of ancient Nordic design. It clearly showed the signs of surviving siege after siege. They entered the large, drafty hall. It was alive with voices and scurrying Nordic feet. Some voices were subdued, clearly planning, but around the periphery the rebels celebrated thier victory with the wild abandon only the free could ever know. In the center, among those who still worked, was a Nord woman, Favonius assumed it was Hlveti, poring over maps of the city, the surrounding countryside, and the undercity tunnels. Her hair was a fiery red, and her stance, favonius saw with some satisfaction, was so polluted by her hatred of the Empire that she would jump into almost any endeavor that would hurt them.

She looked up at him, her steel-blue eyes glowing with the same hatred. She would be easy to manipulate.

"What is this Imperial doing here? Is it lost?"

Favonius bowed his head respectfully. "'It' is here to help you, Mistress." He said. "While you have certainly won a victory here, you don't expect the greedy dogs of Ocato's government will stand for such humiliation?"

"Is that a threat, you dog?" She shouted, drawing her sword and drwaing a crowd of warriors exited for one last bloody show before they began to celebrate themselves.

"Not at all, mistress." Favonius said, in his most sincere tone, "It is an offer. I know where the Empire is weakest, and I can direct you to that point."

Hlveti lowered her sword, but kept it drawn. "Truly? How would I trust you?"

His anti-Imperialist spiel was working. However, he was at a critical point. He could see Hlveti wanted to believe him. She wanted to attack the Empire. However, if he went too far, then she would see through his half-ruse and have him killed.

"Do you have spies? You must, to defeat the Empire on any ground one must have intelligence. Send them south, to Bruma. You will see the Empire's armies arrayed against a fortress. My people are in the fortress, so we both have much to lose but more to gain."

Hlveti's sword dropped lower. He told her his plan: "Attack them outright. Your rebels and the betrayed Blades together will crush them." he stopped for a second. he had not meant to say "Blades." However, he was fortunate. The rebels had heard rumors of the accusations against them.

He knew it wasn't true. Even if he could get her rebels to attack, the Legions were all but invincible. It would buy the Blades time to think up a plan, but in all likelihood the rebels would be destroyed.

Hlveti sheathed her blade. "I still do not believe you totally, but I will send my spies south. If what you have told us is true, then we owe you a great debt. If you have lied, then you will die here." She turned to Favonius' escort. "Show him to one of the surviving buildings. He is not to leave until the spies return. He is to be given food and water, but until his good faith is proven, nothing else."

"General Brutus!"

Brutus slowly opened his eyes, the chill of the northern mountain winds on his face. He licked the snow out of his small moustache and turned to the messenger. A young boy who had just joined the legion. He could see the fear in the boy's eyes. How could he convince his men that the Blades were no more or less human than they after centuries of legend?

"Speak, boy. How goes the siege?"

"Sir, we have them completely cut off, but any approach closer than where we are results in massacre. We can starve them out eventually, but we don't know how much supplies they have. Also, our men are scouring the mountainside for secret passages, but so far have found nothing."

Brutus nodded. "So starve them. No approach until we can find a better plan of attack."

"Yes sir!" The boy saluted and turned to leave.

"Boy." Brutus called. "Tell me your name."

The boy turned. "Publius, sir."

"Well, Publius, send word around the ranks that tonight is double rations, and send some foresters out for a hunt." He smiled. "If we're to starve them out, let's show them what they'll be missing!"

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Favonius entered the darkened room in half-destroyed house near to the center of town. He looked out the window. Five floors up. The escort had told him of the trap they put on the doors in this makeshift prison. A deadly poison pin along with an uncertain lock, whatever was scavenged from the ruins and still worked, Since he could potentially be an Imperial spy (not entirely rediculous a notion, of course) he was held incommunicado. There was a small wooden table and a chair. On the table were several small wax candles, a large jug of water and a few days of bread and dried meat. he smiled. There would be little distrubance until his fate was determined. There was also a small bedroll against the peeling green wall.

Jorran spoke up. Agent Favonius, do you meditate?

Favonius closed his eyes and showed Jorran. It was part of the Blades training, wether warrior, assassin or spy. They had to meditate, to gain a greater focus to accomplish thier missions. Over time, the mental and emotional price of doing the Emperor's dirty work would take thier toll no matter what, but meditating, steeling yourself and focusing only on the mission objectives and nothing else, focusing past the cost of human lives taken, one could stave it off. They used a mantra, a repeated phrase associated with the focus of meditation, to quickly calm themselves. The Blades often employed thier ceremonial response "may Talos guide me" as thiers, but it had been so long that it no longer had any effect on Favonius, who was also a firsthand example of why it didn't always work.

Perhaps, as it will likely take four full days before we are released at least, this would be a good time to practice your reemerging magic skills.

"What does this have to do with meditating?"

It is strange how little you know about magic. For one who knows nothing about it's workings, you were unnaturally skilled. It takes students years to discern the complex theory behind some of your former spell reportoire before they can safely cast them, yet you just... could. I believe that if we train intensely here, both in practical spells and in theoretical ones, you may be able to far outstrip your former self. And after our last encounter with Calaxes, any advantage must be pressed.

Favonius acknowledged the idea silently.

Some of your magic may have been restored already. Firstly, a simple Destruction spell.

"Is that wise?"

Do not fear. Simply create enough of a spark to light one of the candles on the table.

Favonius sighed, and sat in the uncomfortable wooden chair. He put his finger over the wick, and nothing happened.

"Jorran?"

Perhaps it is not as it was? Try meditating, focus only on lighting the candle.

Favonius huffed out his nose, and closed his eyes. He began to breathe more slowly, and pushed all distractions and consious thought out of his mind with the air from his lungs. Slowly, gently, he began to visualize a flame licking from his finger and lighting the candle. After a time, wether seconds or hours, Favonius didn't know, he felt a tingling sensation in his shoulder. It felt good, but tense, like a balled fist. It moved up his arm and eventually into his finger, and it began to build. It felt like steam with no escape. With a grunt, favonius focused on giving it a place to escape from: his fingertip.

Despite the dramatic feeling in his arm, the flame was small, barely enough to light the candle at all. But he had done it. He had cast a spell again.

"So what's next?" he asked himself and Jorran.

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"I hate this job."

"It's part of any apprentice's duty, Octavius."

"Shut up, Relas. We should be learning magic, not sweeping floors." Octavius said, as he swept the dust under the rug in the Wayrest Guildhall. It was an old building, and was always dusty, and at least five days a week Octavius and relas were the two apprentices who had to sweep it after draewing "random" lots.

"I swear, we're the only poor guys here. The other apprentices all have aristocratic fathers. They're upstairs learning magic while we, the poor guys, get to clean the basemant."

"You complain too much." Relas said in his typical, fatalistic Dunmer tone.

"You don't complain enough." Octavius said, turning around. He didn't see Relas. he saw a man, turned away from him, in a blue robe.

"Where'd you get that robe, Relas?" He asked. He would have cried out when Calaxes turned to face him, but by the time the thought had reached his mind, he had hit the wall with a thousand times the force of a Dragon's paw, and splattered against the stone.

Calaxes looked at the smear on the wall that had been the second apprentice. "Not worth my time." He thought, then stopped. Had he? His twisted, defromed face grew the semblance of a grin.

He had.

With the first consious thought came others. He knew he was Uriel Septim's bastard son. He knew he had power over space. He knew....

He knew he hated Agent Favonius. He knew he would stop at nothing to see him dead, to get vengeance for his own murder. He even had a plan. But he needed more power before he could go through with it. He looked up with his magic eyes, seeing through the cieling as though it were not there. The apprentices above were only a fraction better than these two. They struggled with simple spells as thier instructors cowered before the clout of thier rich fathers. They were worthless. However, he did sense a few stronger mages nearby.

"I suppose I may as well start here." He said to himself, his decomposed face still smiling as he sifted through the solid surface like it were nothing.

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Favonius's hand was outstretched. He say across his small room from the table and had begun to meditate again. He wanted the bread. He was hungry, and he let it give him an edge, an immediate goal with immediate benefits. For a time, he had no sense of how long in his meditative state, he sat still. Then, he felt a small pressure begin to build at the base of his skull. He focused on moving it forward, then off of himself until he could feel the pressure hanging free in the air before him. He moved it to the table, and enveloped the bread with it. He focued on encasing the bread inside it like a capsule and bringing it to his hand. Slowly, but inexorably, it floated towards him until it landed softly in his palm. The pressure sifted up his arm and back to his skull, where it stayed, lessened.

Well done, Agent Favonius. Jorran said. Telekenisis is the simplest of mysticism spells.

"Before, you said I didn't know the theory. What is that for Mysticism?"

Mysticism is making the impossible happen. While Alteration is making the impossible possible, Mysticism differs by acknowledgeing the impossibility of something and yet manipulating reality until it happens, using the impossibility itself as a guidepost.

"That makes no sense."

As well it should not. Mysticism derives it's power from such seemingly senseless ideas.

"Well, what next?" Favonius asked. "I have little else to do, so I may want to keep training."

Very well. Next I reccomend levitation.

"Alteration, right? So I need to make it so that me flying is possible."

Jorran indicated that Favonius was right. So Favonius stood up and cleared his mind. He didn't think. He sifted things he knew to be truth, not a simple thing for a Blade.

He knew that he was a prisoner.

He knew that he had to catch Calaxes.

He knew that Atmora was to the north.

He knew that he could fly, and fly he could.

It was like the ground rose up underneath his feet. This ground, that he knew was in fact real, moved him upwards along with it until his head brushed the cieling. He opened his eyes and knew he was moving down and towards the table, and that was true. He landed gently, and the invisible ground disappeared.

Suddenly, the world seemed to spin. He felt time begin to alter. It seemed to simultaneously speed up and slow down, then fluctuate at irregular intervals between the two. His vision clouded for a moment as he remembered the last time he felt time act strangely, and all his limbs had been broken as he was left for dead in a collapsing building. he brought himself back with a mental slap.

"Jorran?"

You seem to have overextended your ability at the moment. Your reserves of magicka are regenerating quickly, but for some reason it seems to be... venting around us in the form of a temporal distortion power. A type of power I have never encountered.

"So... I'm doing this?" Favonius said. He closed his eyes and meditated again, this time focusing on his own escaping runoff. He trapped it, and began to put pressure on it as it gathered in a cloud around him. Time began to normalize, then slow to a crawl around him. he opened his eyes, and brought it back to normal as he reabsorbed his own magic runoff.

"That was... interesting."

Yes it was. Jorran said, worried as night began to fall out the window. Thier first day in prison had ended.

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General Brutus surveyed his troops. These were normally the southern legions, so they wore primarily light armor to suit the heat of the desert in Elsweyr. It did little to help in the northern chill. He exhaled and a cloud of mist blew forward. They had cloacks, but if it got colder during the night some of his men might freeze to death.

He knew some of the Eastern legions might come to reinforce them, but he didn't trust the eastern generals. Marius in particular, from Old Ebonheart in Morrowind, always gave Brutus a very bad feeling deep down. He didn't want Marius' legions so near the heart of the Empire, but he had his orders. help Marius if he came, and take down the Blades.

Okay, just because my story probably conflicts with the new ones dosen't mean I can't still write it for fun. So:


Four Days Later

All that was left was a single bird, and that had flown in after the massacre.

There was no blood, only bodies. Calaxes hadn't burned them this time. His instinct had told him to do so before, but he was now master of his thoughts again. He left the empty husks there, and left an unmistakable sign of his next destination. He needed far more magic than he gained from the pitiful mages here. He would go to visit the Direnni, but not at thier Tower, thier impregnible stronghold. He was not a fool. He would lure them out and destroy them, and he would do it at Sentinel

----------------------------------------------

It had been nothing to learn the magic, he had astounded both himself and Jorran.

He floated in the center of the room. The table, chair, food, candle, and anything else that could be moved revolved around him in the air as he meditated. He stopped an apple, while keeping the others going, and froze it in Time in front of him.

Quite impressive. Jorran said as Favonius placed everything but the apple back where it was. He was not interacting with the apple, just keeping the Time around it frozen. Of course, when using magic and meditating, you are vulnerable despite the boost in power. If you use magic on the fly, it will be weaker, but you can still use your weapons and other skills.

"Understood, Jorran. You've only warned me a hundred times this past hour." Favoinus said as there was a loud "click" and the door opened. The middle-aged Nord from the first day looked in, saw the apple floating, and chose to ignore it. Magic was too strange for him. In a move that surprised favonius, he embraced him like an old friend.

"You are truly a blessing on us!" was all he said before leading him out.

That is certainly a good sign.

They entered the same building from earlier. Hlveti was still poring over maps, there were knives stabbed into it now, and red circles around some sections of the undercity tunnels.

"So, friend, I feel we must apologise for detaining you. However, we cannot help your people."

"What? Why?"

"You can use our Guild Guide, he was on our side from the begining and allowed us to corner the Imperialists, but we cannout attack the legion as it is. They have been reinforced by the hard men of the eastern Legions."

"Marius?" Favonius gasped, a chill down his spine that had nothing to do with the Skyrim cold. "You need to send your men, if Marius gets there personally he will attack them both in the night. All of them will die and he will be far worse than Ocato's sickman government!"

"Do not seek to give me orders! I am letting you use out guild guide, do not test our hospitality, Imperial."

Favonius' hands balled into fists. "Damn my luck." he said, before turning and heading for the old Mages Guildhall behind his escort.


---------------------------------------------

"Good to see you, Brutus." Marius said, giving an equal-rank salute. "I see your men are laying seige to the fortress."

Brutus nodded, not liking the look in Marius' blue eyes, or his sly smile. His every nerve was on high alert.

"Well, I believe I may have another strategy." Marius said as a knife slid into Brutus' back.

"Atius, clean your knife and give the men the signal. Turn as many as you can, kill the rest and then we march south." Marius said as he walked away, his crimson cape fluttering over his armor in the wind.

Favonius was expelled to total silence. At first he thought there was a problem with his ears by some magic accident, but then he saw the bodies piled neatly in the corner, shriveled beyond individual recognition, all he could see was that there were two, and that they were both either human or elven. His newly expanded senses widened around him in defense of a magic assault, but none came. Even to his reawakened sixth sense, his entire perception was still and silent. He slowly, with surprising stealth for his modified Blades armor, rose to the ground floor and found even more shriveled bodies. he scanned the whole building with his new perceptions, and determined that even the pet, whatever it had been, was also drained of even the lsightest vestige of life.

Before exiting, he listened at the door for any sound. There was not one. No footsteps, no voices, no clattering wheels of merchant carts. There was no smells coming through the door, and he couldn't sense any life. He slowly opened the door, both knowing what he would see and praying to Talos that he was wrong. All the while, Jorran kept alert inside his head for any sign of telepathic invasion.

He was not. As he opened the door, the first thing he saw was a shriveled horse next to his shriveled rider, who had collapsed and ran his back to the wall before his death. He looked down the street towards the market district, and saw many simmilar corpses of men, women, children and beasts lining it. Likewise towards the castle. He began to walk towards it, quickly, wanting to see if the royals were still alive. As he was halfway between the Mages Guild and the Castle, Jorran spoke up.

Agent Favonius, Jauffre is sending me a message through the Altmer healer, Heldonwe.

"Let them through." Favonius thought. He stopped walking, and Jorran began to monitor thier surroundings as an image of the Temple filled his second sight.

"Jorran? Where- Favonius? How are you speaking to us?" Heldonwe said.

"I've re-learned much of my magic in the last few days." Favonius said through the white wraithlike image that stood before the mage and the Grandmaster.

"The legions have retreated. One of our spies reports that General Marius has killed general Brutus and taken contol of the Senechal legion. They are marching-" Jauffre began.

"Towards the Imperial City." Favonius finished. It was as he'd feared, and he regretted Brutus' death as well, as he had served under him in his days before the Blades, and had thought him a good commander. "It's good that you have been given leeway, but perhaps you might want to see what's happened here." Favonius said, letting the images he saw flood thier minds. Or he tried, and Heldonwe visibly projected them with magic. His racial traits and particular individual talents gave Jauffre total resitance to mental penetration.

"By Talos..." Jauffre gasped, dumbstruck even after all he had seen. "It is final, no matter what the cost Calaxes must be stopped, and by stopped, I mean killed. This time, do not attempt to reason with him at all. He is to die, and that is an order."

Favonius remembered the first time he murdered Calaxes. he had tried to convince him to put down the thoughts of uprising and theocracy and leave his life intact, but he had not listened.

"Yes sir."

"Have you checked the palace?"

"Not yet. I was about to."

"Very well. See what clues you can find and attend to the mission by any means neccessary."

They severed contact. Favonius began walking towards the castle, but the search was a dismally fruitless as he had feared. All dead, shriveled in place doing thier everyday business.

"What could he hope to achieve with this much life force?" Favonius asked Jorran.

With this many souls, the Dwemer made my kind. He could be building an army of Replimen.

"But he would need Dwemer ore for that." favonius said, "Damn it!" he shouted, banging a table. "What are you planning you undead bastard!?"

It was then his eye caught a movement. He jumped and drew his sword before seeing it was a loose page from a book. On it was the symbol of the temple of the One, and the page itself was from the book Night falls on Sentinel.