Thank ya.

This was Awesome! You draw the reader into feeling your addiction with you, I could picture everything easily with your descriptions - your writing is always perfect anyway - but your story is growing and emerging - I love it!

You're the most supportive criticist I've ever heard of mALX. Thank-you. Truly.

Six

I'd finally neared the guards and placed my hands on my hips and sighed as loud as I could. It was a deliberate attempt at catching one of the guards attention. I tried once more, much louder and obnoxious then before. "Can I help you?" One of the guards asked finally.

"Me? Oh no. Just seems like a bit of a pickle." I said half-heartedly, allowing myself to turn and face Pehnir as he boldy continued his ramble about life and death and fortune. "Indeed." the guard replied with a frown.

"You know, I heard a rumor that the Count was on his way."

The guard turned to me and I met his gaze. His face had been slapped with dismay. "How? What... We have to go and warn him that it's nothing. I have to..."

"Let me." I said, placing my hand at the top of his chest to stop his progression.

"Would you? That'd be such a help." he moaned.

I nodded and patted the guard on his shoulder before turning heels and taking off towards the Castle. So far so good.


By the time I'd reached the castle I was sure Pehnir had already finished his part and made his clumsy way off the Fighters Guild roof to profess his foolishness and beg for forgiveness. After a barrage of harassment, he'd make his way behind my house and wait there until I signaled for him.

After convincing the guards in the courtyard to let me into Castle Anvil, I made my way inside and sought an audience with the Count himself.
He was a rather pleasant Dunmer of small build with an insatiable hunger for the more intoxicating things in life. He'd become a skooma addict I'd come to here over the past few months I'd spent in Anvil. My plan was such: To meet the Count, offer him the chance to score as much skooma as he liked, with the only catch being that he pay for each purchase. In this, I had made a valuable business partner and very influential friend. Having Pehnir make an ass of himself would prove it's worth later.

As I strode from Count Anvil towards my snug little home, I couldn't help but smile at the unfolding of my plan.

And now for some muscle.

(I'll add more later. I'm getting to tired to type now.)

The Count of Anvil is not Umbranox?

Remember the era and year my characters living in...

I was bored, started reading, very nice. Written skooma

I would say it would help Thinian if he had children. That way he would have a reason for the pot being heated, a cold start on a cauldron would take a couple hours to heat up. It would also give Detrinus a stronger connection to the Wood Elf family. Then he'd have a group supporting him in his time of trials. Then when he leaves, there's also a stronger feeling of "Oh crap" when the cats are questioning him.

The first couple paragraphs make me wonder why this man who has lived for more than eight centuries even wants to talk about this part of his life. He starts off talking about how parents want their children to do better than them, and try to plan their futures, but his parents did the opposite. Considering he's lived eight hundred years when normal Imperials in Tamriel live around sixty, doesn't that mean in the long run you're better off if your mom is a skank that abandons you?

Heir of importance should be Air, and the word Skank sounds really 90's. Not that you can't use it, but it can be jarring.

Overall the impression I get is that he would be wanting to hide his past to some degree since he has accomplished much. Kind of like Cary Grant. Cary's mother was taken to an insane asylum when he was young, and he grew up poor and desperate. When he made it big as an actor, he hid everything he could about his past.

From the way your story is going, you could write this story something like Citizen Kane. He has a humble beginning, and the story looks in on him in the high and low points of his life. In the very end of his life, he looks back and the thing he wants most is Rosebud, his childhood sled. It represents a lot, and in the first paragraph of the story you even hint at that. If I've let a cat out the bag with that, I'm sorry.

I don't know how the wild hunt would be "used", are you saying they manipulate it?

Hold on now, this is contradictory to what you said here:
We'll do anything to have them, but we're powerless to manipulate our futures? Is he saying he doesn't have a drive to accomplish anything and he's just lucky to randomly meet his aspirations?

Kha'lel? Isn't that Superman's name?


I'm wondering why he assumed they had a foul intent by asking where he was from. In these times without communication, every town would be asking a traveler where he came from and what was going on there. It's their way of keeping track of things. Maybe he should realise why they wanted to know a little later when he sees them getting a posse together.

If there is nobody around and he assumed they had gone to attack Longhaven, perhaps he should have attacked their town resources while he had a chance. Take what he needed and burn the food storage, break their idols, and poison the well.

The story is moving nicely, but I can't get it out of my mind wondering why a guy this old is going into so much detail about something he likely wouldn't remember in such detail. Even things ten years ago that happened to me can be real hazy in my memory.

Haha. You know the odd thing about that is, I knew that was supermans name yet the naming of the Khajiit boy had nothing to do with it. That's odd. No, my inspiration for his name came from a boy Lupe Fiasco used in one of his songs, "Little Weapon". Kha'lil was the boys name. I just put an 'e' rather than an I.

The cauldron would've already been heated as it was in the dead of winter. The steam potentially heats the house.

I wanted Thinian to be percieved as the lonely old Bosmer with nothing to live for.

And no, it doesn't contradict anything. Powerless to manipulate one's future in this reference is referring to the power of the divines/ancestors/daedra, to control our fates for us. (In the rp of course.)

Implied meaning...

He hopes to give the reader the knowledge that no matter what we do in our lives, (such as seeking power, wealth, fame, etc...) We cannot escape what is inevitable. The inevitable being whatever it is we fear to come. (Death, debt, loneliness)

We want our children to have what we have, and want. To live on. This is how we try to escape being forgotten. In Detrinus' case, this is the inevitable I spoke about above. The ending that would be hellish to him. And the other things you mentioned will unfold as the story progresses.

I will admit, I rushed numerous parts of the story. Hence, my reason for slowing the pace down to give my story some thought. Heir was a typo, as you can see in reading the other parts I used the word correctly.

I tried the more common name for the type of women Detrinus' mother was, but I got a censorship bar on it. I don't want anything of that sort in the story.

Indeed, you've unravalled the general plot Shades. Ah well, I'm much too attached to the story to stop now.

And for Detrinus' age, it will be explained later. Of course...

It's a great retelling of a man's life. I hope to put some very interesting things to the story.

Also, I intended to put it into the sto later that Detrinus would find out that Longhaven was actually a Bosmeri retreat from Khajiit bounty hunters and slavers. Alas, your curiosity will need an answer. He was feeling guilt at the time of the recollection for the past event. He really feel guilt until the following morning when th Khajiit had seemingly vanished.

Also, I should've put more detail in describing that at the time, the Bosmer would use the Wild Hunt as a sort of shield against the High Elves to the west. I suppose I could revise some of it.

It's a flashback, I don't want to reveal too much. But as for him remembering past events, lets just say when certain thing happen to us, we begin to recount the steps we made to end up in said position. Haha.

Anyway, I really like yur review Shades. Challenging questions...

Dren, I'm with ya. Very well written. The story is getting... addictive. :lmao:

Six (Continued)

Beams of morning light shone through the window, revealing microscopic particals of dusk floating about the room. I blinked a few morning tears and inhaled deeply. Today was bound to be a day of achievment. I rolled over to kiss Amarha and gently rested the palm of my hand on the bulge of her stomach. It was warm with the forming of another life inside it. My child. I smiled and kissed my love on her forehead, just before rising from bed to meet Pehnir.

The night before, after talking with the Count, I made my way back home, found Pehnir waiting in the back, payed him for his services, and headed inside to drift off to sleep. The first step was complete. There was still so much to accomplish however.

I'd stuffed my face full of bread, sipped at a hot cup of tea, and made my way into the warmth of the sun. The streets were full of carousing citizens, all gossiping as usual and telling stories of dreams and ambitions. I stuck my thumbs into the seams of my pants as I neared the alley where Pehnir slept. He was already up, brushing dirt off the sleeve of a rather new and pricy looking overcoat. "Ah. Seems you've endulged already." I joked.

Pehnir grinned a smile of satisfaction at removing the dirt an said, "I got it from Barnicus'. Nice ain't it?"

I nodded in agreement and leaned up against the brick walls of the Fighters Guild buildling. "Are you ready?" I asked, changing the expression on his face almost immediately. As his smile faded he drew a dagger from under his newsletter bed and held it with both hands open, it's blade glimmering in the sunlight. "I didn't know if you wanted iron or steel. I suppose a blade gets the job done no matter what make it is."

"Indeed." I replied, taking the dagger from his hands and swiping the air in a practiced motion. "It's a bit off in the make. It has a point though so that'll have to do." I concluded, tucking the blade into my boot and straightening back up to se Pehnir cleaning up the newsletters he so frequently slept on.

After a quick thought I almost instantly felt pity for the man. "Pehnir, why don't you sleep in my house? We have room for another. As long as you promise to get a job and clean up after yourself." I blurted out.

He stopped his chore to give me a distant scowl. "I'll need known of that now."

"There's nothing wrong with accepting help." I replied.

"Help by pity isn't help at all. It's sugar-coating what's real." He said, in a monotonous grumble that seemed recited.

"You'd rather live on the street?"

He tossed the oil stained papers into the garbage beside him and stood up, facing me as he did so. He bit onto his bottom lip and made a svcking sound. "I choose to live on the street Detrinus. I'm here because I never took handouts. I've never lied or cheated anyone. Do you know why they call me Pehnir the Beggar?" He asked, a spark of anger glinting his eyes.

"The obvious choice feels like it might not be so." I said unsurely.

"It's because I never once begged for a coin -- but for something else." He paused to reach for his coin purse. "I begged for self-realization. For faith."

I grew hot and uncomfortable. Pehnir, despite what I first believed, had been a man of something other than misfortune.

"I was once a priest of Zenithar. After the second war with Pyandonea, the Empire needed priests to bless the deceased corpses of it's fallen veterans. I was employed for nearly three years of service. Afterwards, I was payed a decent bit of gold and sent on my way. You know, four thousand septims can only go for so long. Anyway, I'll finish the story later. We got work to do, eh?"

I gave him a weak smile and together we made our way out into the street. Our first destination was the Count. Day one of the drug trade.

Really great dialogue!!

Seven

"So how much is the count willing to pay?" Pehnir asked as we drew closer to the Castle Anvil. With my gaze still looking onward, I lifted my chin some and smiled. "He's willing to give a thousand septims for five bottles of skooma."

"My word!" Pehnir exclaimed. "That's brilliant!"

I nodded in agreement and couldn't help but let a giggle of excitement escape me.

The Count's eyes widened as we produced a bottle of our drug to him. He snatched it from my Pehnir's hand and twisted the top off. He sniffed at the brim of the bottle, letting it's toxic aroma fill is head and heart with excitement. He drew back from the bottle and gave Pehnir and myself a wide smile of delight. "This will do fine. Barticus," he said to a man in fine silk robes standing at his side, "give them the money."

The man bowed his head and left our presence. "Should I pay you here or would you like it delivered to your house?" The Dunmer count asked.
At first, the thought of having to avoid carrying so much gold at one time seemed reasonable. After some thought hoever, I realized delivering a bag of gold to a household of drunkards and thieves just wouldn't do.

I grinned slightly and replied, "That's quite alright milord. I think Pehnir here can manage carrying the gold himself."

Just before Pehnir could detest, the Count's butler returned to us, a large bag of gold clinging in his arms. "The gold milord." he said glumly.

"Ah. Give it to this man." barked the count, his bony finger pointing towards Pehnir. Pehnir's eyes had widened at the sight of so many septims. "By Shezarr!" he gasped.

Too short !!! But really great! Tags, dialogue, character interactions - all perfect!

I know. It's bumming me. I'm just all dried up on enthusiasm right now. Especially for this story... Ah well. I'll just have to find a way to stimulate my mind.

You are probably burned out from college, is your semester up yet?

Haha. College? No I'm not enrolled yet. I'm in the Guard. Active Guard Reserve actually. It's like full-time National Guard. It's ridiculously busy with deployment coming up. Anyway, I'm just going to take some time outta my day to brainstorm.

Just make sure YOU don't get deployed!

Haha. Too late I'm afraid. I'm set for some time in May of 2010. Anyway, I'm going to post another installment today. I'll try to make it lengthy.

Seven (Continued)

Thick pillars of bitter black smoke billowed out from Castle Anvil, her stone walls blackened with soot and grey ash. The smell could cinge ones lungs. The heat alone melted all of the weapons and armor inside into one gooey blob of iron. The voices of despair and fright that once called out for a savior had been silenced. Burnt corspes and charred furniture were all that remained.

The fire had been silenced, yet still the sound of crackling and popping taunted me. I couldn't find my love amongst the carnage. Warms tears streamed down my face, my lip trembling so noticeably, Pehnir made his way to me with open arms.

"Come Detrinus... Staying here will not help you ease the pain." he said, hugging me. His finer silk clothing had been dabbed with a sharp scent of cologne. One could smell the fortune on him.

We had become quite wealthy ever since we'd begun the skooma trade, selling to the Count of Anvil. It was he who told his noble, thrill-seeking friends about our cheap deals and excellent product. They'd never known we were bringing in skooma directly off the Khajiit chopping tables.

Pehnir's little stunt back when he was labelled a beggar had given him the appearance of a madman. The Guards had him thrown in jail to protect the community. Pehnir was able to friend some Nord mercenaries who gladly joined our trade as bodyguards. I believe their names were Grom and Tolar -- a pair of rather simple-minded brothers who's hunger for bloodshed made them more than adequate defenders. We were on a six month long deal when I decided to tell Amarha what I had been doing.

It was still very early in the morning. Dew lined the windows of our new four bedroom home. The fireplaced hummed it's warmth at the four of us -- Amarha, my son, Pehnir, and myself. My love rocked back and forth gently in her chair, little Iakan lie* sleeping in her arms, his fingers curling as he dreamed of his mother, of me, of life left to be lived.

"Dearest..." I began in a whisper.

She looked up from Iakan and smiled her usual heart warming smile. "Yes?"

"I haven't been... Well... I've been dishonest with you." I continued, already feeling the weight of my guilt and shame for being so reluctant in telling her.

"You do what you must Detrinus. If you've failed to tell me something, knowing you, it was probably for the better. If it weighs your heart so much that you feel you must tell me, then I will listen."

"Why is it so easy to have you?"

She blushed a little, fixing her cheekbones to avoid smiling. "The same reason why it would be easy not to have me. Because either way dear Detrinus, you will have what you want. And what you want will want you back. If you didn't hunger for it, then it shall never hunger for you. You correct yourself until your brilliance is undeniable. That's why you've sold skooma for so long without telling me. I already knew. Women always know." she smiled.

"You never cease to amaze me." I replied, honestly surprised. "But..."

"But you want to know if I'm ok with it?" she asked.

I nodded, shifting my entire body to face her.

"I'm ok with the outcome of your actions. As long as you don't jeopardize the life of our child and those who you love, then I cannot hate you for what you've done. You brought me out of my addiction. You've shown me wealth I use to dream of. For this, I have no voice in your actions that can speak against you. And like I said, if you want something, your heart will have it. It's both your strength and your weakness."

"I love you." I suddenly blurted aloud. I'm not sure what had overcome me, but it felt right to say it. This women would be my heart and soul till the end of my days.

"I love you too dear Detrinus."

There I stood, amongst ash ruin, weeping in the arms of Pehnir. My heart could bear no such pain as the amount it felt that day. Flames and smoke had claimed my love.

The Count would pay for his foolishness.

Amarha had visited the Count that Turdas evening to have brunch with his wife. While under the influence of skooma, he'd set fire to his chambers. It had spread throughout the entire castle.

Other than the Count, no one had survived.

Ah no! ARGH!!!!! Awesome write, riveting!!!