Path of Justice

Part One: Song of Seryn

Chapter One- The Wings of Peace



The Arnesian War- Riot of Tear
During the Imperial Simulacrum of the fourth century, a radical band of Argonians nearly laid waste to the great Dunmer city of Tear. The group called themselves 'The Way', and by Rain's Hand of the year 396 they had successfully infiltrated over two dozen agents into the Dres capital. Thoughts of glorious freedom slowly crept into the minds of the slaves there, the Way spreading their plan by word of mouth until nearly every Argonian prisoner eagerly awaited the fateful night.
-Daron Endret; 3E 431


Tear, Morrowind; 8th Rain's Hand, 396 3E


The border city of Tear had erupted into pure anarchy, buildings burning despite the rain, blood swirling in puddles on the muddy streets. A relentless downpour beat down on the city, blue-white lightning forking through the night sky, thunderclaps drowning screams of pain and terror.

The white flashes offered brief glimpses into the wanton destruction of the southern side of Tear- home to the infamous slave pens and saltrice plantations. Large pits, which once held thousands of slaves, were now empty. Bits of broken chain littered the floors beside the usual scraps of rancid food and waste. Only a few of the high fences that ringed the pens still stood, most had been trampled in the first moments of destruction. And all around lay the bodies of the dead.

Scaled reptilian bodies, broken manacles still clinging to their wrists, crashed over guard posts like living waves. The few Dres left behind took their last stands with honor, shedding the blood of many a slave, but the tide would not be turned. The elves died, one by one, as would later be sung with pride by the battalions of Dunmer soldiers.

Further into the city, the Dunmer held a stronger resistance. Sandy walls, turned brown with rain, protected the slavers, fortress against their own supposed property. Restless red eyes, ever searching for the first assault, quested through the murky gloom. The elves gripped their bows with white knuckled fear. Each breath fell like their last, the air in those silent towers charged with more than the booming storm.

But the middle of the city, the gray between bleeding corpses and doomed sentinels, was strangely empty, quiet save the screams and thunder. The once lavish market stands stood vacant. The bustling crowds were all either dead or gone. Ominous dark buildings rose up on either side of the muddy streets, doors splintered where looters had taken full advantage of the riot.

A lone Dres guard sprinted down the empty market street. He gasped for breath as he passed shattered stalls, crimson bleeding through a large hole in his armor. His helm was long forgotten, dropped into the mud along with his sword as he fled the rioting slaves. His silver-gray hair was plastered to his face, dripping rain, dark red eyes alive with panic.

The elf stopped suddenly, doubling over at the end of the alley. He collapsed against the dark tan wall, sliding down to the muddy street. Numb hands pressed tight against the throb of pain in his chest. He tore the netch leather from his chest, worn buckles snapping, both hands pressed against the growing blot of red. His head fell back, another flash of white throwing the alley into sudden clarity. The Dunmer's breath still rattled in shallow gasps, his mind still blank with terror. As the roll of the thunder died away, the splash of footsteps awoke him from his half conscious nightmare.

Another flash of light exposed the tailed silhouette standing at the far end of the alleyway, a jagged weapon raised in one scaled hand. The slave took one slow step forward. His face was obscured in darkness save for glittering black eyes, shining with bloodlust.

"Please," the elf gasped, pleading, "Please, no-"

"Silence," the shape hissed, his low voice thick with trembling fury, along with a barely contained excitement. "Time for words? over."

"No," the Dres cried weakly, slipping from the wall, crawling through the puddle towards the open street, "Almsivi, no!"

"Prayers uselesss now." Another step. "Your kind done, Kai show uss Way."

The Dunmer splashed helplessly, blood mixing into the grimy pool that surrounded him, fingers slipping uselessly over the slick muck. Tears joined his rain soaked face; his gasped mutterings sank into vain bawling. His descendents would praise him for dying in the name of Almsivi, in the name of the Great House Dres. No glorious thoughts of duty surfaced in the elf's mind, only the all consuming fear of the shadowed figure, now just a few feet away.

"Silence, smooth skin. Be proud. You open the Way."





"Song of Seryn"

Say, did you hear
Of the mess down in Tear
That rose this bloody war?

Those elves did fear
That the beasts would break clear
And leave this country tore.

But did you know
Of an elf wrought with woe
From friends of tortured death?

His life did owe
More than loss to his foe
For true he betrayed breath.


Morrowind-Argonia border; 12th Rain's Hand, 396 3E


A battered carriage bounced swiftly along the rough, marshy path, weaving past the gnarled trees and bubbling bog-pits of southern Morrowind. The pair of guar pulling the coach moved with a practiced sureness. The dark skinned driver doing his best to hold on as the carriage was thrown about harshly, crimson red eyes flashing under his broad straw hat.

One of the hardy swamp crows gave its harsh shriek, taking to the sun drenched sky as the carriage approached. One black feather fell to the marshy earth, dancing through the humid spring air. It floated gently end over end until it came to rest on the coach's trail. One heavy wagon wheel, golden paint flaking from the spokes, crushed the delicate feather as the carriage passed, indifferent to the swamp around it.

The coach's sides still shone a bright red under their thick layer of mud, the golden wing of House Indoril emblazoned on the door. The window was covered by a rough red canvas, concealing the riders inside. The fabric was pulled away suddenly to reveal an angry red gaze, its owner poked his head out to better deride the poor driver.

"Useless s'wit! Watch where you're going!" the bald Dunmer barked, gold hoop bouncing on his pointed ear. The aggravated elf retreated back into the musty heat of the coach; scowl still heavy on his rough face.

"Roris," another Dunmer chuckled, "There's no need for that, we're lucky these roads are even here. Would you rather we paddle our way to Stormhold?" The second elf's bright eyes smiled at his friend, ceremonial ponytail bobbing up and down with the coach. His amiable smile seemed to fit snugly with his stately appearance. His golden Ordinator armor held an air of reserved dignity.

"I don't care, Seryn, I should be back in Vivec right now. These infernal swamps will be the death of me." The elf named Roris gestured angrily out the open window, billowing sleeves swishing with the gesture.

"Oh, c'mon Rory, you were the one that requested this mission," a third Dunmer, a tranquil woman with violet eyes, remarked teasingly. She too wore her ceremonial armor, an iridescent suit of lavender-red; the refined color of aged wine. It could be nothing but the special garb of the High Ordinators of Mournhold.

"Only because this f'lah made me, I never wanted anything to do with these lizards." Roris pointed an accusative finger at Seryn. The wing tattoo beneath the fuming Dunmer's eye jumped with the fresh glare.

"What's done is done, Roris," Seryn remarked casually, a small smile tracing his lips. "We'll be back in Morrowind soon, don't worry, just as soon as we finish the negotiations."

"Negotiations my eye," the bald Indoril spat. "They couldn't lead a guar to water."

"And you could make him drink?" the woman asked amusedly, thin eyebrow rising. Her dark silken hair fell freely about the pauldrons of her armor; her slender form seemed at home within the enchanted steel.

"Point is, Nina, that I don't deal with savages. They all need to be locked up in Tear if you ask me." Roris folded his wiry arms, dark sleeves sagging like the vines flashing past the window.

"Oh come now, even if you don't like them you should at least respect them," Nina scolded, thin face serious.

"Fetchers," Roris muttered. "Can't trust any of 'em."

"Well, you're going to have to pretend to, else you might well get us killed," Seryn joked, smiling fondly at the tattooed Dunmer. "The treaties are still secure in the other caravan, correct?"

"Yes, signed by King Symmachus himself." Nina responded, reciting with a tone both dutiful and professional. "The Archeins will continue to supply prisoners so long as the Dres stop raids on certain sanctioned villages. Likewise, tariffs on imported slaves are to be reduced, and the same for goods coming from Morrowind,"

"Good, good," Seryn nodded. "Oh, and one last thing. Roris?"

"Yes?" the bald Dunmer asked impatiently.

"Try not to talk," Seryn laughed, earning another scowl from his friend, and a bright smile from Nina.




Lives of the Saints
If you would learn pride of race and tribe, follow Saint Roris the Martyr, Patron of Furnishers and Caravaners. Captured by Argonians just before the Arnesian War, Roris proudly refused to renounce the Tribunal faith, and withstood the cruel tortures of Argonian sorcerers. Vengeance and justice for the martyred Saint Roris was the rallying cry of the Arnesian War.


Morrowind-Argonia border; 12th Rain's Hand, 396 3E


The Argonian’s mottled green hand raised, palm flat, signaling a stop to the small troop behind him. The swamp buzzed all around him, slime-coated water rising waist deep on the lizards, naked save for a motley assortment of weapons strapped to their backs. The leader’s moss green eyes shifted relentlessly, scaled face impassive. His breath came in slow rhythm through the dark pits of his nostrils. His leathery ears twitched slightly- the carriage’s noise was fast approaching, a clamor of whining axles and guar-steps.

The road stretched in either direction less than thirty yards from the band of Argonians, muddied from the recent rain. The path was barely keeping the swamp at bay. Questing branches and relentless undergrowth crept up on either side. The sun shone brightly in the blue of the sky above, casting long shadows on the malicious crew.

The leader’s hand swung forward in a small chopping motion. The Argonian waded silently through the murky pool, creeping closer to the dirt road. The others immediately sprang into action, four swimming rapidly down towards the sound of the carriages, four more following the leader as he approached the road.

Between the marshy pool and the muddy path was a small strip of trees, deeply shaded, where the group crouched in wait. The coach was close now, the driver’s crimson eyes flashing beneath his broad hat, the guar pulling on mindlessly. The lead-Argonian raised another signal, and the entire group seemed to tense, weapons held at the ready.

The Argonian allowed himself a small smile, pointed fangs flashing in the dark swamp. Their wait was nearly over, all their planning about to pay off, and a few more Dunmer would be dead come morning.









Author's Note: Thank you all for reading the beginnings of my newest story, Path of Justice I truly hope you enjoyed it thus far, I have poured all my skill and heart into this chapter, hopefully the first of many to come. As you finish reading, I just wanted to give a special thanks to BSparrow and Treydog, for their help in proofreading this. Without their advice this chapter wouldn't be half of what it turned out to be. All in all I'm very proud of it, and it is my dearest wish that everyone that takes the time from their busy schedule to read be glad to have done so. That said, any further criticism is more than welcome; I will do my best to take any comments positively, as is befitting an aspiring writer. Thank you all again for reading, it really means a lot to me :goodjob:


EDIT: Had to change the ending, as my resulting battle scene unfortunately had no clashing steel. I'm not too sure on my new ending though, any thoughts?

Good job Darkom. I've been waiting to see something like this...

It's good you are doing something in history. Helps us flesh out the actual lore a bit more in our own minds of what it might have been like. I don't read a lot of these fan fictions, but I'll read this one. Good job. Keep up the good work.I don't feel like critiquing right now, but I will in your later chapters. Good work.

One of the (many) things I like about this one is the choice of- subject matter, I guess. You weave in some parts of ES history that are not well-known (to me)- and show that the truth and the history books don't always tell the same story.

Great descriptions, interesting 3-D characters, a good sense of pacing. This is very much worth reading.

Darkom, I really liked this one. It's smooth, flows well, and has the right amount of description that I can picture things clearly in my mind's eye, but leaves enough for my imagination to stay busy filling in the blanks. The characters are very real and interesting. And the choice to start the chapter with the revolt in Tear, going from a general overview of the action to a narrow focus on the injured and dying Dunmer guard was inspired - it resulted in a powerful opening scene. The two follow-ups to it were equally effective and made me want to keep reading.

More please.

Darkom this is outstanding. The characters and settings are so vivid, and it is just so pleasant to read. I cant wait for the next chapter.

You've always been a master with descriptions, you prove it once again in this first chapter. The stage you are setting is interesting, More More!

Sorry about the slow reply, everyone, I just don't like bumping my own story every time someone else posts I am working on the next chapter, but a few lore bumps came up (notably, the guy I thought was king is dead and Barenziah isn't even in the country) and they are messing with my plans considerably. Hopefully I'll get that all worked out and finish chapter two by next weekend. Thanks a lot to everyone for reading, I really appreciate the kind words :goodjob:



Thanks, I'm trying to stick within the lore while also expanding on it with my own characters and back-plot. Basically I decided a war wasn't enough to drive my plot, so I sifted through some lore and made up twice as much so my plot has some nice twists and turns to it



Thank you, Trey, I am a huge fan of lore (especially Dunmer) and was kind of disappointed by how little of it there was for this. I'm glad my descriptions and characters worked out, and thanks again for your and Sparrows help in that area



Thanks, I tried several different approaches to that opening, but I finally decided that setting up the overall plot (the Way) was more important than focusing too much on the Dres themselves. I'm trying to balance the good guy/bad guy aspects between the Argonians and the slavers, I want both to be believable characters that the reader can sympathize with to set up future plot things. I'm very much glad you liked it



Thank you very much, Bmont, I'll try to get everything set up today so I can devote some good time to writing tomorrow :goodjob:



Thanks Malx, I'm glad you liked it. Hopefully future chapters will prove just as interesting

Thanks again everyone, I appreciate the positive feedback very much I'm glad all that editing paid off then.

Chapter Two- Fangs of the Way

The Arnesian War- Unseen Spark
It is the commonly accepted belief that the Arnesian War was caused by the unfortunate series of riots in Tear and the Dunmer’s capital, Mournhold. However, while these two uprisings were major factors in the declaration of war by the new King Llethan, there was another, less publicized incident that tipped the fickle scales of diplomacy into war: the ambush and capture of three Indoril during a peaceful mission to Stormhold. While only one went down in history, the deaths of these three Dunmer had profound consequences on the course of history.

-Daron Endret; 3E 431


Morrowind-Argonia border; 12th Rain’s Hand, 396 3E

“So the bartender says to the Telvanni, ‘Sorry, but I don’t serve mushroom folk.’” Roris finished his joke, chuckling to himself. Nina gave a weak smile, but soon returned her gaze to the open window. Seryn laughed heartily, though only out of respect for his friend. Roris had never been very good at jokes.

Nonetheless, Roris beamed, the bald Ordinator joining his friend with a deep laugh. As their mirth faded, Seryn turned a concerned glance towards Nina, who was still staring blankly out the window. The scenery was still flashing past uneventfully, trees and vines mixing into a blur of shadowed green. The wind whooshed through the open window, throwing Nina’s dark hair back from her thin face, exposing her thoughtful violet eyes.

“Something wrong?” Seryn asked, smile fading from his smooth face.

“No,” she replied softly, her eyes lingering on the passing marshes, “Nothing.”

Seryn exchanged a concerned look with Roris, wondering at his comrade’s sudden detached attitude. Nina was usually rather lively, sarcastic at times, but overall a very professional, friendly woman. Such a somber, almost worried look was unlike her.

“Are you sure?” Roris asked, raising one dark sleeved hand to Nina’s armored shoulder.

“Yes,” Nina replied, shrugging Roris’ hand from her shoulder with an annoyed look. Her eyes darted back to the scenery before finally settling on Seryn. “I think we might be slowing down. That’s all.”

Seryn nodded, brow knotting in concern. He gave the trees a passing glance, but he knew that wasn’t the problem. They did seem to be passing slower than before, but something else disturbed him. Something was very wrong. Seryn could not place the uneasy feeling in his gut, but he felt it strongly nonetheless.

“Roris, please ask the driver if anything is amiss.” Seryn remarked gravely, one hand reaching for the bronze-cloth hilt of his short sword. Nina’s violet eyes grew hazy once more, her gaze returning to the window, as if the answer to their intuition would be out amongst the swamps.

Roris gave a curt nod, and then leaned out the window to shout once more up to the driver. Seryn looked on anxiously, fingers tightening around his sword. Roris leaned out further. He placed one foot beside Seryn on the seat cushion, his hand gripping the top of the windowsill for balance. After a moment the bald Dunmer returned to his seat, red eyes wide with distress.

“The driver he- he’s gone.” He said, voice trembling with disbelief.

Seryn’s eyes, on the other hand, lit up with a sudden intensity. The armored Dunmer stood, his short ponytail grazing the low ceiling of the coach. He looked both his companions in the eye, maintaining a calm appearance.
Nina seemed to have steeled herself. As her lavender stare met Seryn’s she gave a brief nod, loosening her own sword in its dark red sheath. Roris still seemed uneasy, but nonetheless ready.

“I knew it. Roris, get to the front of the coach and get the guar under control, stop the carriage if you can. Nina, check on the other coach, our first priority is to protect the-” Seryn’s words were cut short as the coach came to a violent halt, tipping over on one side and sending all three Dunmer sprawling. Seryn’s vision exploded into white starlight, his ears ringing, and sudden pain flashing through his body.

Once the coach finally came to a halt Seryn felt his senses start to return. He brought himself up onto his knees, holding his side with one hand, trying to make out the blurred shapes of his companions. Nina had fallen beside him, but she too was now up, if a little dazed. Roris was crumpled against the seat, blood trickling slowly down his lifeless face.

Seryn crawled over to the Dunmer, fear and pain throbbing at his temples as he held a hand before the elf’s face. The Dunmer gave a sigh of relief as he felt the man’s breath, slow but still there. He fell beside Roris, vision fading, head pulsing. Nina shook him roughly into consciousness once more. His sluggish mind snapped to attention, pain and confusion swept away by one overpowering thought: survival.

Nina’s mouth was a thin line of determination, her eyes set on Seryn’s with a coldness he rarely saw from her. He returned the gaze, ignoring the pain in his side as he brought himself to an unsteady stand. Nina stood with him, seemingly unhurt, but Roris still lay comatose against the dark velvet cushion. Seryn tapped lightly against the elf’s face, and for one horrifying moment Seryn thought he wouldn’t wake. His fears subsided, slightly, as the bald Indoril’s crimson eyes flashed open, instantly alert.

As Nina helped Roris to his feet, Seryn set about opening the door, now roughly three feet above his head. After a few tries the hatch swung open, slamming against the outside of the coach with a muffled crash. Seryn hoisted himself up, wounded ribs flaring with pain, onto the carriage’s side. He examined the shadowy marshlands with a distrusting eye, seeing hidden swords behind every shadow.

The other coach, the one carrying the treaty, sat twenty yards further down the road. It was still upright on its wheels, looking little worse for wear. However, there was no sign of their fellow Indoril, nor the guar that had been pulling their carriages. Seryn glanced up and down the road, seeing nothing but damp undergrowth and gnarled branches hanging over the road like searching hands.

Seryn helped Nina up first, followed by Roris, until the whole trio was standing atop the coach. Seryn drew his ceremonial short sword coldly, the golden bronze blade flashing darkly in the light. After another silent glance to his companions, Seryn dropped onto the dirt road, falling to one knee and gritting his teeth as his side sent another wave of pain through his body.

Nina lowered herself beside him, falling lightly on her feet despite her armor. The High Ordinator helped him up by the arm, dark red blade ready in her other hand. Seryn winced, but got to his feet, supporting himself against what used to be the bottom of the coach.

“I’m fine,” he said indignantly, shrugging Nina off. The woman gave him a concerned look, but soon returned her gaze to the marshes.

Roris plopped down beside them, bald head wrinkled in frustration, his dark shirt torn and stained with blood. “Who in Lord Vivec’s name did this?”
he cried, wiping off blood that had trickled into his eye. One golden hoop had been torn from his ear, and the wing tattoo beneath his eye was stained scarlet.

Seryn ignored his fellow Ordinator, circling around towards the front of the coach. The guar pulling the carriage had been cut free, with no sign of the animals or the driver in sight. Seryn bent down to pick up one of the frayed tethers, examining the cable before dropping the rope in disgust. This was no accident. Which meant they were being watched.

“Roris, help me inspect the other coach. Nina, watch our backs.” Seryn strode past his two companions, barely glancing at them as he passed, towards the second carriage. His eyes shifted back and forth, watching the darkness of the trees for any signs of danger.

The coach sat silent on the edge of the road, nearly but not quite toppled into the murky swamp-bog. The golden Indoril wing on the door was completely gone, barely an outline on the red of the door. The thick curtain lay across the window, saving whatever was inside the carriage from sight.

As soon as Roris had fallen in beside him, his brows curved downwards in an angry gaze and his bronzed sword held ready, Seryn pulled the door open. Inside lay four lifeless bodies, two armored Indoril that Seryn knew and trusted, and two bloody Argonians. Their weapons lay abandoned, blood mingling on the hard wood floor, and their eyes, both scarlet red and glassy orange, stared emptily at the ceiling.

Roris stepped inside first, dropped slowly to a knee beside one of the Argonians, and laid two fingers held against its leathery neck. He stared at it for a moment, short sword held against the other side of its throat, then turned his intense gaze to Seryn. “Dead, though I’ll be damned how all four went together.”

Seryn stepped up beside him, staring coldly at his companions’ murderers. In a fair fight his brothers wouldn’t even have broken a sweat dealing with these two, of this he was certain. He dropped to one knee beside Roris, turning his back on the Argonians. He offered a silent prayer for his lost comrades, and then solemnly closed their eyes. He finished the prayer in a whisper, “The ending of the words is ALMSIVI.”

Slowly, the Dunmer rose to his feet, his mind returning to the situation at hand. Outside the coach Nina gave him a steady gaze, nodding briskly when his eyes caught hers. “All clear,” she reported curtly, “Highwaymen, perhaps.”

Seryn shook his head, the same uneasy feeling rising in his stomach. The treaties were nowhere to be found, there was something else at work here. “No, this was more than just robbery. It was too well planned, and these two couldn’t have done it alone. We’ll fan out, search the area, and if all else fails strike a path for-” Seryn felt a sudden motion at his back, but before he could turn he was struck from behind. His attacker fell with him out of the coach, strong arms wrapped around his midsection. Seryn landed face first in the dirt, his assailant dropping heavily on top of him.

He turned to face the Argonian, raising his arms just as the lizard stabbed downwards. The dagger tore through his gilded bracers, digging deep into his flesh. Seryn ignored the pain, taking his chance to leap at the Argonian, sending him toppling backwards. His fists flew at the scaly face, the Argonian’s jaw giving under his knuckles with a sickening crunch.

“Seryn!” Behind him, Nina was under a similar attack. Her arms were pinned behind her by one Argonian while another approached her from the front. She was struggling furiously against the lizard’s grip, but to no avail. The second Argonian would be on her in moments, his jagged axe seemed eager for flesh.

Seryn made a mad dash towards the axe-wielder, short sword forgotten, his mind focused only on the weapon in the lizard’s hands. Nina called out for him again, her pained voice ringing in his ears. Mere feet from Nina Seryn was tackled again, his arms pinned under him as a muscular forearm slithered around his throat. Seryn thrashed under the lizard’s weight, looking on helplessly as the Argonian approached Nina.

The axe-wielder raised his weapon, ignoring Nina’s flailing legs. For one horrifying moment her panicked eyes stared not at her attacker, but directly at Seryn. The Ordinator bucked wildly, the Argonian’s arm still tight around his throat. His vision began to narrow, black creeping in, swallowing all but Nina’s terrified violet eyes. The axe-wielder chopped down, and the last thing Seryn saw was the bright red splash of blood.

No… No…




Imperial’s Guide to Mournhold
Mournhold, capital of Morrowind, is actually in itself not very large. The true city, Almalexia, surrounds the wealthy core that is Mournhold, home only to the rich and powerful. The city of Almalexia, named after the Tribunal goddess, is the largest, and the oldest, in Morrowind. The lower class buildings and homes dominate the outer edge of the city, followed by the business offices and smaller markets, and at its heart lies the great walls of Mournhold. This core is further divided into four sections: Godsreach, the Great Bazaar, the Brindisi Dorom Plaza, and Almalexia’s Temple. And where these four districts meet sits the Royal Palace, home to King Symmachus, current ruler of Morrowind.

-Edgar Wickcroft; 3E 389


Third Market District, Almalexia, Morrowind; 12th Rain’s Hand, 396 3E

The hooded Dunmer strode quickly down the dingy street, his thick leather boots splashing through puddles from the recent rain. His red eyes blazed from beneath his dark cowl, glancing furtively down a back alley. Two shops stood on either sides of the dirty alleyway: one a poorly stocked clothier, and the other a notoriously cheap brothel.

But the Dunmer’s business did not seem to be with either of their bare wooden walls. He hurried past both, turning down into an even darker alley, littered with piles of garbage and foul smelling puddles of vomit and urine. The only noteworthy feature of the grubby brothel alleyway was a similarly cloaked man, emerging from the shadows with a slow, purposeful step.

The Dunmer stopped suddenly, suspicious eyes regarding the figure with a mix of contempt and expectation. The stranger ambled further from the shadow of the brothel’s wall, a mottled green tail exposing him as an Argonian. Two scaly hands rose up towards the rough brown hood concealing his face, drawing back the fabric with a deliberate motion. A scarred and rugged countenance gazed back at the Dunmer, beady eyes cold.
“Well?” the Dunmer asked irritably, his sophisticated, snobbish tone obvious.

The Argonian nodded, drawing a small, water stained envelope from his pocket. “All ready, treaty secure.” His scratchy accent was thick, deep voice barely understandable. “Kai finish Indoril then come here. Elf king dies in three suns.”

The Dunmer nodded slowly, a bright smile flashing underneath his hood. He approached the Argonian, drawing a small pouch from his own pocket while extending one delicate hand towards the Argonian’s letter. “Payment, as agreed upon.”

The Argonian snatched the pouch greedily, the gold clinking softly as it disappeared into the dark cloak pocket. The lizard’s scarred face stretched into what passed for a smile, relinquishing the envelope without a second thought.

“Everything is in place then?” the Dunmer asked inquisitively, stowing away the letter, “Guards bribed, agents planted, tensions running high? I want the whole city to light up, understand?”

The Argonian only nodded, marred face returning to its cold indifference. “Done, done, done; king’s last sight fire and death,” the Argonian said flatly, returning his hood to its place, casting his scaly face into shadow once more.

“Excellent, most excellent, your master is doing a handsome job.” The Dunmer nodded his approval, white teeth flashing from the darkness. “In three days time Symmachus will be dead, you’ll be paid and on your way, and our plans will be one step closer to completion.”

“Trust the Way,” the Argonian whispered, ignoring the Dunmer’s excited smile. He stepped slowly back into the wall’s shadow, dark shape disappearing in the gloom.

The Dunmer chuckled, patting the letter in his pocket softly. He turned, strolling easily past the garbage piles, smile flashing as he spoke, “Trust the Way indeed, my friend. Trust the Way indeed.”








I offer my sincerest apologies for my lateness, life managed to get in the way of finishing this chapter once again. Other than that, thank you again for reading thus far, I hope you are enjoying my story as much as I am. Once again any criticism or advice is more than welcome, I would appreciate any feedback on how I can make Seryn's adventures more interesting or clear.

I hope the last bit didn't spoil too much of the plot, I just wanted to give a little bit and start setting things up for later. I'm not the best with combat scenes either, so let me know if the flow feels off, or the descriptions aren't clear enough.

Thanks again for reading :goodjob:

PS In case you were wondering, Seryn's hair looks something like http://www.uesp.net/w/images/images.new/0/05/MW-NPCs-Tarer_Braryn.jpg. He doesn't have a tattoo on his face, and the pauldrons don't go out quite as far, but otherwise that's a decent picture of what he looks like. I'm having a bit of trouble describing his physical appearance, given the nature of this chapter

Dude... awesome. Really like your stuff here. It's amazing, that's all I can really say.

Well, that and, "Oh great, another awesome story to discourage me from ever writing one of my own for fear of being laughed off the forums."

Seriously though, keep going, I want to read more!

Curse my stupidity! I should have looked here much earlier!
Ghostpaw wrote what I thought, with all those fantastic writers around my own posts will likely be laughed at wherever they are seen!

The part with the ambush was a nailbiter... You just expected a spear to fly and kill one of them any second!

Thanks, Ghostpaw, I really appreciate it

Don't worry, I'm sure anything you write will be great

Thanks again, I'll get started on the third chapter right away then.



Thanks for reading Haresus, I'm glad you liked it. I couldn't decide how I wanted the ambush to go, but I'm pretty pleased with the end result. Thanks again, I'm glad the story is interesting enough

However, I would like to hear some of your thoughts on the last scene, with the back alley deal. Too much foreshadowing? Too little detail? Just enough to be suspensful? I'm hoping to kind of switch between Seryn's view and more of these little backstory sections, if nothing else than to fill up some space while he's busy. There are a few plot points I have to hit in order to stay in line with lore (there is surprisingly little of it for this war, actually), to properly set up Llethan's declaration of war.

Thanks again for reading, everybody, I appreciate the feedback :goodjob:

This has been good stuff so far. It has already been said, but I'll say it again - that ambush was a real nail-biter.

As for the back alley deal, I think it adds a layer of mystery to the whole thing. Makes me wonder what lies ahead for our hero Seryn. If you have to hit these little plot points in order to set up for the grand climix, go right ahead. It's not that uncommon in fiction, and something I come across quite often. It's hard to do well, but I think you've done it rather well.

Chapter Three- Night of Pride

“Song of Seryn”
Verse Two

How could he know,
By his path say such foe,
Who could take away his life?

They took him, oh,
But he did fight and throw,
For peace had turned to strife.

Those three had pride,
For their own house and side,
Such elves are truly rare.

Kai had not lied,
But not once had he cried,
For his love always was there.


Argonian Camp; 13th Rain’s Hand, 396 3E


Masser and Secunda were both out in full, beacons of pale light in the low mists of the marsh. The moonlight shone through the holes in the crumbling shack’s roof, painting the room in a ghostly silver glow. Seryn gazed forlornly at the reflection, red eyes pensive beneath his bruised and swollen face. His chains rattled as he sat up, the Indoril frowning at the noise they made. He spat a mouthful of blood into the small puddle, sending a dance of ripples across its surface. The elf turned his gaze upwards, through the roof and towards the true night sky, praying to Vivec and all his ancestors that his captors would simply kill him.

“Seryn,” a woman sounded weakly beside him, the shaky voice of his once proud friend. “Seryn…”

The Dunmer sighed, trying to keep his voice steady, “I’m here Nina. It’s alright.”

“Seryn, no…” the elf’s violet eyes filled once more with tears. They ran down her mangled face and dripping silently onto the cold earth. She was covered with fresh cuts, long red marks that stood out painfully against her blue-gray skin. Her silken hair was a shadow of its former beauty, cut in jagged lines by spiteful Argonian daggers.

Seryn reached for her, tried to comfort her, but the shackles stopped him inches away. Nina looked at him, hopeless eyes wrapping around him like a cold winter wind. Seryn could only watch as she fell into sobs, unable to hold her, to tell her sweet lies about how everything would be alright. All he could do was sit and wait for the morning, and the fresh pains it would bring.

His mangled body didn’t even feel like his own, it had been lost sometime during the hell of the past few hours. His left hand still hung limp beside him, a deep gash along his wrist from the lizard’s dagger. Three fingers on his right had been broken earlier that day. His mouth bled steadily from his missing teeth, pulled slowly and painfully from his gums.

“Up, elf-filth!” Their guard’s throaty voice called from outside their miserable shack, green head appearing in the doorway. “Kai come. If lucky he kill you.” The Argonian gave a deep, gruff chuckle, deeply amused by his morbid joke.

Seryn looked one last time at Nina, still sobbing quietly in her corner. Then he spit another wad of blood towards the guard, crimson eyes fiercely defiant.

The lizard only chuckled, muttering as he disappeared, “Other filth proud too. Watch self before Kai.”

Seryn winced, his thoughts turning to Roris. Neither of them had seen the elf since he was carried off by their captors, shouting about his vengeance.

“Nina,” he started softly, “Nina, we can’t let them see us like this.” Nina kept crying. If she had heard Seryn, she didn’t acknowledge him.

“Where is your pride, soldier?” Seryn continued, trying anything to bring her out of her misery. “I thought I fought beside an Indoril.”

Nina looked up at him, her face still wet with tears. She shook her head slowly back and forth. “Seryn, I… I can’t.”

Seryn’s eyes steadied, his face set in grim determination. Their guard’s voice called out, cutting off his response, “Lord Kai, filth inside.”

Seryn turned towards their shack’s open entrance, staring with open hostility at the tall Argonian standing there. He wore dark trousers in the fashion of men, but was bare-chested save for a black cape clasped below his right shoulder. His mottled scales covered rippling muscle, with long white scars standing out morbidly against his dark green chest.

“So, these are the Ordinators I’ve heard so much about.” The Argonian spoke in clear Imperial, with a hissing undertone. His jaw was filled with needlelike fangs, trademark of the Nagas warrior tribe.

“But how rude of me; I’ve forgotten to introduce myself. I am Kai, leader of the Way, and for the time being, your lord and master.” The Argonian smiled, giving a short, mocking bow.

Seryn glared silently at the lizard, focusing all the hatred he had on Kai’s shining orange eyes. Nina had stopped crying, but refused to look at the Argonian. Her gaze was focused solely on the dirt floor.

“Nothing to say? No matter, I already know your name, Seryn Doran, Official Second of the Indoril Order of War.” Kai stepped over towards Nina, reaching out with one powerful hand for the elf’s cheek. “And this would be Nina Falas, elite member of the High Ordinators of Mournhold.”

“Don’t touch her.” Seryn growled, staring fiercely at the Argonian’s hand. Nina had shut her eyes tightly, her whole body trembling before the lizard’s touch.

Kai turned his orange eyes towards Seryn, a shadow passing over the lizard’s face. But as soon as he had seen it the shadow was gone, and Kai was drawing himself back up. “Yes, well, I was never one for you smooth-skins myself. Though it seems not all of my men agree,” the lizard’s smile widened cruelly.

“Bastard!” Seryn shouted, struggling furiously against his chains. His red eyes shot daggers at the Argonian, remaining teeth gnashing with the effort.

“Tut-tut,” the Argonian wagged one black finger at the elf, obviously enjoying his outburst, “You’ll pay for that comment come morning, Seryn Doran, don’t worry.” Seryn collapsed on the dirt floor, his body screaming in agony, eyes still trained on the lizard’s.

Kai began walking towards the door, turning back just before reaching it. “Oh, yes, I knew there was something else.” Before Seryn knew what was happening Kai was standing over him, yanking him up by his chains and gripping him by the throat with one dark hand.

“Tell me all about your precious Mournhold, and I might consider letting you die.” Kai hissed darkly, eyes filled with a sudden fury.

Seryn struggled for breath against the lizard’s iron grip, crimson eyes blazing. Seryn looked past the lizard, at Nina, tears welling up in her violet eyes once more. Seryn opened his mouth as if to speak, earning a toothy smile from the Argonian. “Yes, go on.”

Seryn spit a wad of blood into Kai’s scarred face, grinning as the Argonian stumbled back. He wiped the blood from his face, looking at it in disbelief, then blazed with an even greater rage.

“You will die slowly, miserable elf! And so will she!” Kai pointed one commanding finger at Nina, his orange eyes slits. He brought his other hand across his body, backhanding Seryn heavily across the jaw. Seryn heard a loud crunch before collapsing, held up like a puppet from his chains.




The Arnesian War- Lord Kai
During my research into the elusive organization known as “The Way”, I discovered surprisingly little about their enigmatic leader, referred to only as Kai. What I did uncover, through interviews of natives and some secondary accounts, was highly disturbing. The Argonian was known for sudden fits of violence, and he commanded his forces with an iron authority. His subordinates feared him, his allies did not trust him, and the people of Argonia thought of him as a mad crusader. Based on my findings, I believe it is safe to say he was utterly insane, perhaps even psychopathic.
-Daron Endret; 3E 431


Argonian Camp; 13th Rain’s Hand, 396 3E

Kai stormed out of the shack, black cape billowing behind him. The stout guard followed like a dog on his heels, struggling to keep up with the taller Argonian’s stride. The pair approached Kai’s carriage, Argonian driver and lizard-like mounts waiting patiently on the marshy road. Kai stopped before the door, his face perfectly calm, waiting until the guard hurried to open it for him.

Kai proceeded up the steps without as much as a glance at the Argonian, slamming the door behind him. As the guard began to walk away, the coach’s window curtain was pulled aside, Kai’s strong hand gesturing for the guard to return.

“Yes, master?” The short lizard approached, his eyes hopeful.

“Be sure that that one sees no mercy; and no more sleep.” Kai’s deep voice ordered harshly, pointing towards Seryn’s shack with one long finger. “He is not to die until I return from Mournhold, understood? The pleasure is to be mine alone.”

“Yes, master, right away.” The short guard bowed low to the ground, hurrying off as soon as the coach’s curtain was drawn once more.

Inside the coach, Kai pulled an ornate chest onto his lap, one clawed finger tracing the wing insignia on the lid. The Argonian laughed, a dark, hollow sound, echoing through the moonlit marshes. The coach’s driver snapped his reigns, urging the large reptilian mounts onwards. Kai’s laughter still booming from within, the coach disappeared into the shadow of the swamp.






It's been a long time coming, but I've finally finished the third chapter. Between vacations, tooth surgery, and summer training I never managed to find time for writing, but now that I'm back into a semi-normal schedule I think I can move on with the story. Hopefully the descriptions were alright, I think the imagery was a little lacking in the beginning, but overall I'm pleased with how the whole scene turned out. Kai should be making several more appearances throughout the story, as I'm very much attached to the "insane yet persuasive leader" types. If you couldn't guess, the next chapter will focus on Mournhold, and the Way's plans there. The plot thickens

As always, thanks for reading, I really appreciate it, and criticism is always welcome (the harsher the better ). Thanks again everyone, the next chapter should be finished within a week or so :goodjob:

Hey man,

Sorry I couldn't get back to you until late. Your story's as awesome as ever, bro, really top notch. I didn't honestly expect to see the Ordinators again after the last chapter, and I think I can honestly say it's a less than pleasant surprise considering their bleak circumstances, lol. As much as I got sick and tired of seeing Ordinators in Morrowind (and barely gave a thought to killing their impetuous "we're watching you, Scum," asses on sight a few times) I'm feeling genuine pity for this bunch right now. If that was your plan, you did great. I really want to see them survive somehow, lol. But don't change any of your plans for my sake, man, writing good stories is like making omelettes, if you catch my meaning

Thanks Ghostpaw Don't expect me to kill off all my characters so quickly. Though I still need to give some thought to how they'll escape (if they escape, that is :shifty: ). Hopefully I'll have it all worked out and written by the end of the week

Just curious, does the "Song of Seryn" poem sound okay? This is my second time trying my hand at poetry, and as of yet I have heard no comments on it. I messed up the meter on purpose, in an attempt to not sound terrible, but it still reads rather forced.

Thanks again everyone for reading, I appreciate any feedback you might have. Even if it's compliments :laugh:

Sorry for my lack of comments.

For the first:
Excellent Fan-Fic! But Kai seemed not more crazy than your ordinary bad guy general, sure he was mean and evil, but insane or phsycopathic would not be the right word as you have described him... Propably just the first glimpse being so short...

For the second:
I thought the Song of Seryn was some In-Game stuff which you popped in now and then! Since you have done it yourself I must say that it was very good, just one bit which I thought weird/funny:
Say, did you hear
Of the mess down in Tear
That rose this bloody war?

The first two sentences makes me think of it being some jester joking around... It doesnt give me the "Oh... a city was destroyed, absoloutely slaughted, terrible, just terrible..."-feeling. More of a "Haha! Those Dunmer couldnt defend jack! Whatamess! Whatamess! Hahahahha!" feeling.

For the third:
Interesting situation the Ordinators got in... The girl seems to be completely cracked. The third one was either killed, put in some other place as a captive or betrayed the other Ordinators.
The second in command seems to be the one that will survive, if any. But perhaps it will be more interesting if he doesnt make it? I dont know...


Very good F-F overall! Continue on and it will be wonderful!

Chapter Four- Tears of Honor

Biography of Queen Barenziah
That evening, news came that Symmachus had fallen in battle with the revolting peasants of Mournhold, and that the kingdom had been taken over by the rebels. Barenziah, at this point, did not know where to seek help, or from whom.
-Stern Gamboge, Imperial Scribe


Throne Room, Mournhold, Morrowind; 15th Rain’s Hand, 396 3E

King Symmachus, husband of Barenziah and ruler of the Imperial province of Morrowind, stood a silent vigil on his balcony, overlooking the fires and riots of the city below. Great pillars of oily black smoke rose up to blot out the moon, roaring tendrils of flame licking up from the rooftops. A woman’s scream pierced through the sound of steel, through the crackling flames, through the low shouts of his guards below.

A hot wind blew past his face, rippling his robes and ruffling his thick black hair. The acrid smell of smoke stung his crimson eyes, but he did not look away. Symmachus stood, still as a statue, ringed hands clasped behind his back, and watched as his city descended into chaos.

“Sir!” Galen Thelas, captain of his personal guard, burst onto Symmachus’ balcony, firing off a quick salute before continuing, “The Great Bazaar has already been overrun; my elves are being pushed back to the palace. All of Almalexia is in flames! We need to get you out of here, now!”

Symmachus gave a heavy sigh, taking a long, forlorn look at the city he had sworn to protect. Finally, the elf bowed his head, closing his eyes to the great fires, to the screams of the dying. “How has this happened, Galen? How did it come to this?”

“Sir, I’m sorry but we don’t have time for this. That mob is almost at our door!” The guard pointed emphatically at the plaza beneath the balcony. On the far side, a squadron of elves in matching armor barred the great double doors of the palace. The angry shouts of rioters grew louder as the doors began to buckle.

“No,” Symmachus replied solemnly, turning towards the elf with somber eyes. “No, this is my city, and it’s my head they’re after. I refuse to flee from my own people, Galen. I brought this upon myself, and my only regret is that my subjects had to suffer for it.”

Galen gritted his teeth, about to yell again when the king placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Go Galen, this is my burden. Take the rest of the guard with you. Send word to my wife of what has happened. Tell her not to return to Morrowind, tell her to take the children and go somewhere far away, where my enemies cannot reach her. Tell her to entreat the Emperor to restore peace here.”

The guard nodded, tears welling up in his fierce red eyes. Symmachus clapped him on the shoulder, the fire illuminating one side of his gaunt face with an orange glow, throwing the other in flickering shadow. “Tell her that I love her.”

Galen nodded once more, wiping the tears from his eyes before bringing his hand up in another salute. Symmachus returned the gesture, dismissing the elf with a thin smile.

Symmachus turned slowly back to the city laid out before him. Beneath the balcony the guards had finally been overrun, the great gates buckled, and a flood of rioters filled the plaza. Symmachus stood above the mob’s tide with open arms, welcoming his people with a tear stained face.



Lives of the Saints
“If you would learn pride of race and tribe, follow Saint Roris the Martyr, Patron of Furnishers and Caravaners. Captured by Argonians just before the Arnesian War, Roris proudly refused to renounce the Tribunal faith, and withstood the cruel tortures of Argonian sorcerers. Vengeance and justice for the martyred Saint Roris was the rallying cry of the Arnesian War.”


Argonian Camp; 17th Rain’s Hand, 396 3E

“Wake, elf-filth!” Seryn’s guard’s throaty voice called, as it had every time he finally began to doze. Seryn kept his eyes shut, his head throbbing, and stubbornly refused to acknowledge the guard.

“Said wake!” The lizard’s garbled Imperial held a new note of distress beneath the anger. Before Seryn could obey, the guard delivered a swift kick to his scarred stomach, sending another shockwave of pain through his body. Seryn woke with a gasp, blinded by the orange glow of fire.

He fell away from the wall, stopped short of falling by the ever present chains, staring at the ground with a numb indifference. Ever since his meeting with Kai, his guard had refused him even the peace of sleep. It was beyond unbearable, but with even honorable suicide denied to him, there was little he could do but grit his teeth and take it.

He heard the soft rattling of Nina’s chains as she woke. She had stopped crying the day before, and now, whenever he saw her, she simply stared into space. Seryn preferred her tears.

“Fire in camp, moving filth so filth no die. No quick move, no talk. Else filth hurt. Yes?” The guard was unlocking Nina’s shackles from the wall, keeping her wrists and ankles chained but enough that she could walk. Seryn stared meekly at the lizard, his head still pounding, sluggishly trying to comprehend what he said.

The Argonian pulled Nina to her feet, giving her one last look before moving on to Seryn’s chains. He had a club strapped to his belt, hanging inches away from Seryn’s face as he unlocked his chain. The belt was the only clothing he wore besides a dirty loincloth. Some of the others Seryn had seen wore even less.

“Walk, filth.” The guard prodded Seryn with a clawed foot, then kicked him harder when he didn’t stand. The Argonian jerked Seryn to his feet with a grunt, then smacked him on the head for good measure. “Now walk.”

Seryn took a shaky step, his shackled ankles keeping his stride to a shuffle. The Argonian gave him a shove, nearly toppling him over, but he managed to stay up. His head felt clearer now that he was standing again, and as he looked out of the shack’s door he could see the orange glow that had blinded him. Some of the other huts, ramshackle buildings made of rotten swamp wood, had caught fire, and two dozen Argonians were rushing about, throwing swamp water on the flames in a hasty bucket line.

The guard moved on to Nina, forcing her beside Seryn with several hissing curses in Argonian. She was still staring at the ground, her bruised face blank. The Argonian prodded them both forward with his club, each shuffling step taking all of Seryn’s focus.

The trio stayed well clear of the fires, only a few hustling Argonians bothered to look their way. Their guard began shouting orders at his fellows in his own rough language, though Seryn couldn’t say if they were being followed or not.

Soon enough Seryn found himself watching the flames with a distant interest. He began to wonder vaguely if Roris would be brought out too. He looked around, half expecting to see his friend standing right beside him. But no, there was no sign of the elf. Seryn dropped his gaze back to the ground, trying to find some kind of grief for his friend, but no tears came.

Suddenly, the thought struck him, as sure as if a bolt of lightning had come down from the sky. This was the closest he had ever come to being unguarded, and the only time he and Nina had been together outside the shack. If he had ever thought of an escape from this hell, now was the only chance he would get. Seryn’s eyes steeled in a fresh determination, and his numbed mind began working furiously.

He turned to Nina beside him, still staring blankly into space. He remembered how she had been before, how she had laughed and smiled. He had to free her from those bastards, at any cost.

“Nina…” he whispered, edging closer to the elf, “Nina.”

She gave no sign that she had heard him, her violet eyes unfocused, glowing in the firelight.

“Nina,” he repeated, louder.

“No talk, filth!” Their guard jabbed him sharply with the club, doubling him over with a fresh grunt of pain. Seryn stared at the ground for a long moment, holding his midsection, waiting for the guard to turn back to the fires. When he resumed his order-shouting, Seryn stood back up, eyeing the keys on his ragged belt.

Seryn prodded Nina with his elbow, gently at first, trying his best not to rattle his manacles. Finally, after several increasingly firm prods, Nina looked up, gazing at him with questing, hopeless eyes. Seryn motioned at the guard with his head, then motioned back, towards the darkness of the swamp. He finished with an inquisitive look, holding his chained wrists up. Nina shook her head slowly, her violet eyes filled with fear, her soft lips mouthing no over and over. Seryn nodded, answering with his own yes, begging her now.

She looked at him for a long moment, obviously struggling with the idea. Finally, her fearful eyes steeled, her quivering lips set in a thin line of determination. Seryn smiled at her, a sliver of hope returning to both their faces.

He crept up behind the Argonian slowly, keeping his chains silent. Carefully, he brought his wrists apart, extending the chain that bound them to its full length, stepping just behind the rough voiced guard. Seryn gave Nina one last look, his head dipping in a hairsbreadth nod.

Without warning Seryn brought his chain down on the Argonian’s throat, silencing his gruff calls. Seryn leaned backwards, choking the guard with the chain. The lizard’s face blanched with shock, dropping his club as he clawed at Seryn’s arms, scrambling wildly for air. Nina stood, the guard’s keys in hand, wasting no time unlocking her own shackles as Seryn struggled against the Argonian. Nina hurriedly unlocked Seryn’s ankle-chains, dodging the lizard’s thrashing feet. Seryn grunted, pulling his chain further up on the guard’s throat, stepping back quickly into the swamp.

Nina followed close behind, picking up their shackles and the Argonian’s club as they retreated into the shadows. The lizard’s claws were still clamped around Seryn’s chain, his scaled body bucking wildly under Seryn’s death grip. Nina deftly clasped his wrists in her own shackles, holding the club threateningly above the lizard’s head. Seryn almost dropped him as the guard suddenly stopped thrashing, submitting to Nina’s silent threat. He raised his chained claws in submission, and allowed Nina to shackle his ankles as well. Seryn kept his chain firmly against the lizard’s throat, releasing just enough for him to breathe.

Seryn nodded towards Nina; he couldn’t believe they had done it. Nina smiled triumphantly, lowering the club slightly as she turned her eyes back towards the guard. “Now,” she whispered harshly, “No talk, else filth hurt.” A trace of a mischievous smile played across her face as she repeated the Argonian’s words.

The lizard nodded against Seryn’s chain; the Ordinator gave the Argonian one last squeeze before slackening, keeping the chain in contact with the guard’s scaly throat. “Kai kill all,” he croaked.

“You’re in no place to be making threats,” Seryn hissed, pulling his chain back slightly.

The lizard chuckled, “No, Kai kill you, Kai kill me, Kai kill all.”

“Not if we kill you now,” Nina stepped forward, raising the club menacingly.

The lizard chuckled again, shaking his head side to side, “Where run? This Kai swamp. Elf-land be Kai soon too.”

Seryn pulled the chain back, choking the guard with fresh intensity. “Enough. Tell us where Roris is, and we might just…”

“What?” the guard was nearly laughing now, “Free me? Kai kill me if filth no kill me.”

Seryn choked him again, cutting him off mid-chuckle. “Just tell us where he is.”

“Proud filth? He tell Kai all, then Kai kill. Kai say-“ the lizard was cut off by Seryn’s chain.

“Liar!” Seryn almost shouted, “Roris couldn’t… He wouldn’t betray us.”

“Seryn,” Nina gave him an almost apologetic look, “We need to go.”

“No,” Seryn barked, “Tell me what really happened, you scaly son of a-“ Seryn stopped midsentence as the lizard began laughing again, louder this time. The elf leaned back, pulling the Argonian off the ground, silencing him immediately. But he didn’t stop there, Seryn kept choking the guard, his chain digging deep into his throat as the lizard gagged, fighting for breath.

Nina looked on silently, her expression a mixture of grief and pity. Seryn let the Argonian fall to the ground, his rasping laughter stopped forever. “Now,” Seryn gasped, breathing heavy, “Now we can go.”







Sorry I didn't respond earlier, Haresus Yes, that is my own poem, though I must admit I am by no means a poet. It is meant to be kind of a mixed song, starting off kind of jester-ly, but then growing sadder as Seryn's story is introduced. My idea was for it to be a kind of weird bard's idea of a joke, to be told in taverns in places pretty far removed from the war.

Hopefully I can make Kai a bit more crazy as the story goes on, though we might not see all that much of him directly anymore. Not entirely sure, haven't finished all the planning exactly. But thanks for the comments


I have mixed feelings about this chapter, but I'm glad to finally have gotten this far. The first part, with Symmachus, seems a bit too short, with too fast a pace, but I can't think of how to improve it. I don't want to drag it out, but I feel like there's more I need to do. Oh well, it did what it needed to do, afterall.

The second part, with Seryn, is the first half of his escape. The next chapter will start out with the rest of it, including some shocking twists :hubbahubba: So I hope you all liked it, but please let me know if there is anything I can do better. Thank you all very much for reading, I really appreciate it :goodjob:

Another excellently written chapter, Darkom I especially liked the imagery you created of the King awaiting his fate as the palace was overrun. Also enjoyable was the escape of the Ordinators, as I said before, I was rooting for them. Though I hope you're not planning on making the rest of the escape attempt so easy

On a technical note, this was the only typo I could find:



Probably just need to drop the "a" but I wasn't sure exactly how you were trying to word it, the sentence seems awkward to me even with that correction.

Otherwise awesome read as usual, keep 'em coming, buddy.

Thank you Ghostpaw, I am always happy to hear feedback. I was a little concerned about how easy that part was as well, but I really wanted them to be able to interrogate him about Roris. Don't worry, the next half will have some drama I am very fond of putting characters into very dire and dangerous situations, I find it helps the story tremendously, especially compared with the tactic of invincible protagonists that newer writers use.

Yes, that was probably one of the phrases I edited the second time through, but forgot to fully re-write it. Surprising how often that happens, really. Thank you for pointing it out Some of it felt awkward to me too, but I haven't been writing as much as I should, so I'm a bit out of practice.

Thanks again, I should be able to finish the next chapter sometime next week :goodjob:

Edit: I believe my original statement was something like: Finally, after several increasingly firm prods, Nina looked up, gazing at him with a questing, hopeless gaze.

Obviously I couldn't have gaze twice in a row like that, I just forgot to remove the "a" when I changed it Thanks again.

Darkom, I am not caught up yet. As you may have heard, the last two months I have been off here due to the illness and then death of my X husband. I will comment as I get caught up, hopefully in the next couple weeks.

I'm terribly sorry to hear about your ex, Malx. My condolences for your loss

However, I must admit that I am glad that you are going to be reading my humble story. If you like the style, I have also just finished the first chapter of another story, http://s7.zetaboards.com/Scribes_Corner/single/?p=8010067&t=8338484. It's an original fantasy short set in my own fantasy universe, following the son of the grandmaster of a crusading military order. Thanks

Thank you for your condolences. It has been a very rough couple months, and I am still dealing with the probate issues which are overwhelming.

ARGH! I read what you have so far on "Prezzo d'Onore" - one of the most fascinating things about it is that you made up your own universe for this - that is huge!

...the characters reminded me of Lucien and Louis, and I will explain why. First I just want to say that - I miss them so much! You have a way of building characters that the reader feels strongly about, cares about. I have missed Lucien and Louis since you stopped the story. In "Prezzo d'Onore," what I recognized in the characters was the way you write them. There is a subtlety about them that slips in below the conscious level and before the reader knows it they are immersed in that character.

I have missed your writing, and I have missed "A Brotherhood Reborn" - (I keep hoping it is just lost temporarily and not forgotten). I will def be reading "Path of Justice" as I get time, I am just so happy to see you writing again.

Thank you very much Malx But really, you flatter me too much, Brotherhood's plot was all over the place, and even this story is suffering from a similar malady. I'm not sure how much more of Path of Justice I'll be writing, since I have another story going already, but I promise I won't leave you hanging with what the last chapter gave you

I'm really glad you think that about Lucien and Louis, I loved them myself, and they may well make a comeback sometime in the future :goodjob: Hopefully for now you can settle for Benito and Lorenzo, along with his wacky uncle

Thanks again, knowing someone like you is reading is a definite boost to keep me writing

PS If you'd like to join Scribe's Corner, we'd love to have you

I will more than settle for Benito, Lorenzo, and his uncle - I have already become interested in them. I will def join it, but it will be when I get all this probate stuff out of the way. It is sapping to deal with that.

I'm not sure how much more of Path of Justice I'll be writing, since I have another story going already, but I promise I won't leave you hanging with what the last chapter gave you

<_< :angry: :stare:

We disapprove greatly.

Just when it was getting really good too.