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I think you just keep getting better

haha why thank you darling

great stuff man! i cant wait to see him in action!

you have no idea

lol then hurry up!

no

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instant love

haha thanks man

i would like to hear the comments of others... (other people who read this, this is your que to comment and critique)

cue*

critique on the story, not my comments ;P

Chapter 4 NOTE: i redid chapter 4 because i was unsatisfied, just some minor-ish edits




Valen’s eyes snapped open as he woke from his nightmare plagued slumber. He rose from his bed in the hidden cavern and stretched the muscles in his body, cracking and popping the idle joints in his undead body. After fully awakening and becoming physically prepared for his day of training, Valen cleansed himself in the wash basin and procured a set of black robes and a dark cloak. This early morning ritual had been repeated by the aspiring apprentice every morning for the past six months.

Valen exited the sleeping quarters of the sanctuary, and entered into the chasm that contained the underground lake with its intricate web of docks and water cages. The cages currently held a few prisoners, used as vampire cattle. Here, Severus had taught him the basics of archery- a vital skill for a shadow, yet a skill Valen did not like. He was not apt to shoot a bow, but his unholy master had the raw skill and ability to teach his try-hard pupil much about marksmanship, and within a few months, Valen had the skill of a skilled archer, where beforehand he had no experience with a bow.

He looked off to the padded training fissure, in which Valen had become an excellent swordsman. His master had taught him how to hold a blade properly, how to attack and parry using the least amount of energy and the most amount of power, and he taught him the mind-set one should carry into battle. Valen was now at the skill level to be able to keep up with Severus in combat, and he would get even better with time.

The apprentice continued his morning routine by passing the massive steel door that sealed the Order of Darkness away from the rest of the world, and into the hallowed out chamber that housed the archives. Valen spent hours a day inside the Sanctuary’s archives, absorbing all the knowledge he could about ancient spells and alchemic concoctions, and even the grim history of the order. The more he read, the more he learned. At first, the spells in the book seemed to intricate and outlandish to be real, but after an intense amount of practice and concentration, Valen was able to cast the spells with some effort. Once he had gained the ability to do such, he began experimenting on the Sanctuary’s prisoners with his new spells. Several of them went insane or died during his relentless practice sessions. The apprentice sometimes felt pity for the vampire cattle that suffered and died, but his master encouraged him that their deaths were necessary for him to learn. Besides, if they couldn’t avoid capture, they deserved their fate.

Valen spent about an hour or two in the archives every morning, either reading, creating alchemic mixtures, or practicing his spells. His hands ran across the dusty old tomes, searching for a volume that would capture his attention. Intriguing titles such as Illusive Illusions, Beyond Oblivion, The Unknown Spells, and Alchemy Dissected, flashed before his eyes as he searched aimlessly for a book.

Eventually, a particularly large volume caught his inhuman eye- Corpse Preparation: Extended Edition. Valen was intrigued by the outlandish title as he lifted it off the shelf. He opened the immense book; fishing threw yellowed, worm-eaten pages of the tome. Valen’s attention was quickly captured, for it contained the secrets on the profane art of necromancy, a school of magic that was utterly untouched by the power hungry apprentice. The tome explained in vivid detail everything an aspiring necromancer needs to know, from the accusation of corpses, to the intricate processes of erecting undead minions.
The massive volume excited Valen to no end, and its dark, brooding secrets kept him occupied for hours. After a sometime, he was forced to tear himself away from the forbidden book- he needed to begin the day’s training. He traversed back to the placid underground lake, to find his cold hearted master sitting idly, waiting for his arrival. This was odd, and Valen immediately knew today was going to be different, for his master was usually stringing up bows for archery practice.

“Master?” Valen questioned as he approached. Even after several months he still didn’t know what to think of Severus. He was cold and cruel, yet he still held a sense of humor, which tended to be malevolent.
A malice soaked grin formed on his chiseled face as he handed Valen a sealed package.

Curiosity beset Valen like bandits besetting a trader’s caravan. He savagely tore open the package, and found a packet of formal writings. Valen read over the jumble of parchment twice, finding that it consisted of dossiers compiled by the imperial authorities on the Commana Tong- the organized crime native to the nation of Morrowind, and a few notes concerned the petty business of a worthless smuggler selling alcohol to the organization.

The apprentice scanned the dossiers a bit more- perplexed on what he was supposed to do with the information. “I don’t fully understand…” said Valen after some time, hoping his master would terminate his mute status and explain the papers.

“The Empire is weakening, Valen” began Severus “The Order of Darkness unofficially aligns itself with whatever government it pleases so it may have some personal gain, and aiding the Empire is the best thing we can do right now. We work to preserve it.”

“That makes sense I suppose… but what do we gain from helping them?” asked Valen, who was beginning to assume that the papers were delivered to him for malicious purposes.

“We can make the Empire do anything we want, so long as we allow it survive.” Explained his undead master “Without us, it would wither and die, just like all other nations will. Everything changes my apprentice- keep that in mind” he said ominously.

Valen nodded, telling his master that he had absorbed the lesson. “So what must I do?” he asked, suspense weighing heavy on his voice.

“The smuggler” said Severus, indicating the dossiers and stolen letters in his apprentice’s hand “must be killed. He is helping the Commana Tong- whose interests are against our own. The loss of their main smuggler in balmora will weaken them for a time. It’s nothing major- but it’s a good assignment for a Shadow still wet behind the ears” explained the aging vampire.

Valen nodded again, he was excited and filled with dread at the same time. “I’m ready, master”

Severus gave a shallow bark of a laugh “Not yet, you’re going to need some… ordnance. May I show you the Sanctuary’s armory?” he asked, with a humorous grin stapled to his face.
Valen nodded once more.


---


The water enveloped Valen as he leapt into the underground lake with his master, leaving the webbing of docks behind. The pair of vampires forced their way through the crushing liquid, into a submerged tunnel. The naturally carved channel gave way to another lake, but this one not quite as large. They broke the still surface, and Valen found himself in a circular chamber with a massive vaulted ceiling, sprinkled with naturally formed stalactites. But what really caught his attention where the stone pedestals the circled the room. Each held a magnificent looking weapon- each unique and deadly.

The Dumner pulled himself out of the pool- staring in amazement at the assortment of blades, bows, knives, and other fascinating instruments of murder and mayhem.

“I’m allowing you to bring one of these… special weapons with you. It’s really all you should need for this whelp” said Severus, who seemed to be observing Valen’s amazement at the plethora of beautiful weapons.
The apprentice began to examine the exotic weapons. He spied several wicked looking katanas, large, toothed blades, and small impishly crafted shortswords. But one thing caught his eye above all the others: a small, unassuming offhand blade, which was shaped like an ordinary kitchen spatula or an office letter opener. Its sharpened blade was very thin at the hilt, but expanded in width as it traveled up, and flattened off at the top, no “tip” or “point” was in existence on this odd weapon.

“What is this?” asked Valen as his picked up the mundane looking weapon to examine it.

“That” said Severus “is Dalk”

“Dalk???” asked Valen, as if his master was speaking gibberish.

Severus gave a brief chuckle before continuing “It means knife in some other language. It’s a deceptive lil [censored]- the weapon is magic.”

“How so?” questioned his apprentice

“The magic in the blade literally connects to your mind. It becomes a part of your being, and as a part of your being, you can control it. You can warp it, you can curve it, and you can grow it.” Explained Severus.

“I… I don’t understand” stated Valen with a puzzled look on his face.

“When wielding that blade in battle, you can make it do just about anything” said his master “if you need it to become longer, it will literally grow- and then you have a longsword. If you need it to become smaller so you can conceal it- it shall shrink to the size of a dagger” a cunning smile began to take root on his weather face “it’s also sharper that a dragon’s claws”

Valen could just barely believe what he was hearing. “When do I get to try it out?”

“Tomorrow you shall travel to Balmora. Tomorrow you shall make your first kill. And tomorrow you shall lose part of your soul.”


---


The smooth waters of the placid underground cave stirred in Elidor’s partially submerged cage. The golden-skinned Altmer, or more commonly referred to as “High Elf”, was becoming restless in his small, water logged prison, and had resorting to bobbing up and down in the liquid to occupy himself. The cold water was sapping his strength more and more each day, and the lack of space was causing him to become stir-crazy.
A Khajit in a cage a few meters away had already gone mad and was twisting and turning his feline form in the watery coffin. His fur was matted from the moisture, and his eyes were crazed from being constantly fed apon by the vampires and constantly tortured with magic.

Elidor had a stronger will that the cat-person, and had kept his sanity through-out his time in the hellish cave. But he was beginning to fear that he would soon snap and transcend into madness. The high elf had already accepted death as a result of this ordeal, escape seemed impossible. He didn’t know how the intricacy of the vampire’s cave, voiding all thoughts of logically escaping the cave.

As Elidor was lost in his scrambled thoughts, the Imperial vampire had appeared, and began to prepare the morning meal for the cattle. This was a normal occurrence, thus hinting at another hellish day of nothing in the small, constricting cage. He craved for freedom, for fresh air, and for an escape from the moisture and cramped confines of the cage. The? latticed wood that the cell was made of suddenly began to thicken and expand. It transformed from hardened, wrinkled branches into a solid, organic mass, relentlessly sprouting outwards and sealing the restless Altmer completely in a wooden coffin like packet. The walls began to constrict at an alarming pace, reducing the cage to the shape of a tube, forcing Elidor to thrash about wildly, attempting to force his way out of the nightmarish blood vessel he was suddenly trapped in.

He began to scream as the water level surpassed his chest and went to his chin. But it wasn’t water anymore- it was some type of thick, grey ichor that wiggled a twisted in sync with him. The strange liquid seemed to be a living organism that was fighting the High-Elf for supremacy of the coffin. He shouted and yelped and kicked and pushed against the thick paste like substance, but to no avail. It enveloped him like vultures envelope a carcass, and utterly solidified, encasing Elidor in a motionless mold.

The grey plaster shattered and a rush of wind swathed Elidor causing him to svck in his breath, and he felt a wet slap in the face, but it wasn’t just wet, it was dry and rough, searing hot, and painfully cold. He thrashed about a bit more, and saw that all was back in order, the cage was yet a cage again, not the veins of some celestial god. He breathed a sigh of relief, but the feeling was quickly dashed- he was still cold and imprisoned. Depression and sorrow flooded into him as he hung his head in defeat. Glancing over at the Khajit who was still thrashing, he wondered, is he being swallowed up by a blood vessel too?

His fragile thoughts were interrupted as the Dumner sorcerer stepped onto the docks and greeted the brutish Imperial. Elidor had observed the pair of vampires during his two-month sentence in the water cage, and he assumed that they were the only free inhabitants of the cave. Their conversation was brief, but held loads of information. The high-elf was to dazed to intently listen in like normal, but he caught enough snippets to deduce that the dark elf was leaving the cave to end someone’s life. Curiosity eventually over-rode fatigue and exhaustion, and Elidor pulled himself up to listen to the topic of conversation.

“Our bloodline is much like that of Cyrodil’s” the large, bear like vampire was explaining “we look like humans, and they cannot tell the difference, unless we lack food. If we don’t feed, we become more noticeable in public, and we will be spotted, and we will be slain.” He lectured grimly. Elidor didn’t know much about vampires, but he knew these vampires were different.

The Dumner nodded and after a fleeting farewell, departed. The large vampire turned back to fixing the cattle’s morning meal. I need out of here! He screamed in his head as he reflected on his environment. After another round of heart wrenching and mind drilling nightmares, he began to develop a plan; a plan that might just work- or get him killed trying. Death is better than this hell anyway.


---


The pitter-patter of the rain provided a soothing ambiance as Valen approached the city of Balmora. The city itself was built in a large river valley situated several miles north of the Sanctuary. The river ran through the center of the city, which was surrounded by mountainous hills. Where there were no hills, a clay wall blocked out unwanted intruders. The buildings of the city were also constructed of the same light brown clay material.
Large, shelled insects called Silt Striders hovered above the ground, transporting cargo and passengers to a fro the city. The large beasts were at least three stories tall, and resembled massive, plated beetles with long spindly legs. The beasts had always perplexed Valen, but they were not why he was visiting the bustling city.

The vampire passed a red dyed flag that read “Welcome to Balmora” and entered the city threw a large, worn clay archway. As he strode with purpose into the city, he quickly admired the bustling market square. Citizens of all races mingled and shopped on its cobbled surface, bartering with, or even being swindled by the charismatic merchants. The buildings were large, most of them geometrically perfect cubes, and some of the houses and apartments resembled towers and spires. Disregarding the commoners and their daily activities, Valen moved on.

The packet of papers told Valen that the mark wouldn’t be doing any sort of smuggling on this day of the week, in addition to his place of residence. After traversing the city’s back allies and side streets for several minutes, the assassin found his target’s house with little trouble. The building stood two stories high, but was slim, like most structures in Balmora, making it a small tower. Valen climbed the stoop, and examined the cast iron lock on the wooden door. With a wave of his hand and a small flare of magic, the lock clicked open, and Valen entered the house, prepared to end the worthless bastard’s life.

The inside of the house was besmirched and dirty; apparently the bastard didn’t know how to clean up after himself. Cluttered messes littered the furniture and dust clung to every surface, in addition to piles of worn clothing lying in random places. No one was located on the bottom floor, causing Valen to move to the stairs- the target may be sleeping, he thought. But just as he reached the foot of the staircase, he was confronted by the smuggler.

The mark was a dark elf, like Valen, but that’s where the similarities ceased. A black mow-hawk rested on top his head, which held a face that just looked stupid. His mouth hung open on its own, a habit common among unintelligent peasants, and his eyes has looked bitter and mischievous. “Whut are you doin in mah-“ he was cut off as Valen grappled ahold of his shirt collar and hurled him to the bottom of the steps.
The Dumner assassin then reached into the folds of his robes and procured his enchanted cleaver, Dalk. As soon as his hand wrapped around its mundane hilt, he felt a warm shiver creep up his arm and into his spine, and then into the back of his skull, where it rested. Valen and Dalk had become one.

The smuggler jumped up, rage filled his once bitter eyes. Raising his fists, he aggressively leapt at Valen, who was now standing above him on the staircase. The fool seemed to travel through the air in slow motion, allowing Valen to easily land the first blow. An audible Thwap! Echoed through-out the messy house as the vampire’s knuckles met the idiot’s face. He fell backwards, stumbling under the force of the merciless blow, but Valen did not end his assault there- he rushed forward as the fool was regaining his composure, and thrust his enchanted cleaver forward. The smuggler moved sub-consciously to block with his hand, but the blade pierced like it was parchment. Valen remembered his master’s words, sharp as a dragon’s claw, as his victim screeched in pain, the blade impaling his hand with sickening ease.

The vampire savagely ripped Dalk from the fool’s hand and attempted another deadly thrust as adrenaline rushing through his veins. The smuggler however, had other plans in mind, and tried to wrestle the enchanted knife from Valen’s hands. The apprentice resisted, shoving the smuggler onto his back as he resisted- it was a power struggle. The foolish smuggler was hopelessly outmatched, his death immanent; the vampire had at least twice his strength and could easily force the blade into his currently unprotected stomach. But he didn’t need to- on command, Dalk’s slender blade began to lengthen, stretching down until it pierced the fool’s stomach.

He screamed as the blade pushed through his skin and punctured his vital organs, and then began to spasm as it severed his spinal column. He squirmed and struggled helplessly as he bled out on the floor of his home, Valen hunched over his broken body, staring into his dying eyes. The smuggler let out a few ragged gasps of pain before his red eyes drained of life became utterly blank. The vampire held the position for several minutes until he was sure his victim was dead before leaving the house.

*claps* bravo!!
:celebration:

My word I haven't been on these forums in nearly a year! After being gone for so long this was a brilliant story to return to. I only managed to find one major grammatical error that threw me off a bit. In Chapter 1, near the end of the paragraph, you switched tenses.

"And last but not least, we have the newest addition to the group, Valen. Valen is a dark elf, one rather skilled in the powerful magic of alteration and illusion, which complemented his natural abilities in swordsmanship and stealth. He was a cunning individual, with an unquenchable thirst for power."

You wrote, "Valen IS a dark elf..."

You wrote in the third person for all of your other characters but switched up the tenses here. You then later said, "which complimented his natural abilities..." Taking it back to third person.

Although switching from third to first to explain your characters isn't entirely wrong, it does effect the overall read. Other than that I enjoyed the read tremendously.

thanks bro! i appreciate it
and thanks for pointing that out, ill go and fix it