» Fri May 27, 2011 1:43 pm The crowd roared with cheering, as objects were flung to and fro. The great, iron gates were lowered with a mighty clattering. One of the two corridors remained dark and empty, the man inside not yet ready to emerge. But the other, the other was the one that drew the audience's attention and praise. Out strode a man wearing a blue arena raiment, with a look of both pride and fury etched upon his beautifully carved face. It was an Altmer, a High Elf, with long, golden hair, and piercing emerald eyes. He drew a long, ebony blade, that shone in the midday sun. It gleamed beautifully as he twirled it in his long, spindly fingers. The man whirled it through the air, catching the face of the sword in his other hand, and finally resting it on his shoulder.
"Are you afraid, my master?" he shouted, barely audible over the roar of the crowd. Upon hearing their idol speak, the audience finally quieted down. The Altmer waited several moments for a reply, smiling at his reflection, that shimmered on his Elven-crafted blade. Suddenly there came a chuckle from the dark corridor, beginning slowly and steadily rising to a triumphant uproar of laughter. As it died down, the Altmer noticed his features become distorted and hideous in the reflection. He struggled to hide his fury.
"Afraid?" said the shrouded man from the darkness, followed by another chuckle.
"No. No, not afraid."
The Altmer walked forward several feet, then planted his sword deep down into the sand.
"Then what? Shy? Scared to reveal to the public how hideous you have become? They have not yet been told of my glorious victory in your tower last week."
Again the man chuckled in response.
"Glorious victory? You're telling me that catching your robes on fire and plummeting from my home and into the lake was a glorious victory?!"
The Altmer grimaced, and he viciously pulled the sword from the soft sand.
"Surely you haven't forgotten me nearly blowing you in half with a bolt of energy? or when I burned off half of your sagging old face!"
The crowd gasped, and then went silent.
"Show yourself, old man. So we can do battle already. Elleidon hungers for your blood!" shouted the handsome elf, raising his black, Elven-made sword into the air.
"Very well."
The opposing combatant finally walked forth from the dark corridor. The audience roared with fright. It was as if the handsome figure of the Altmer had been fast-forwarded thirty years, his golden locks turning into long, grey tussles, and the beautiful, golden skin becoming sagging, dark layers of flesh. The only feature of the Altmer that was more stunning was the defiant, enduring blue eyes, totally in contrast to the other's green slits. Half of the man's face was burnt, and scarred where the fireball had grazed his skin.
"There. Your 'public' has seen me. Now can we begin?"
"Of course," said the other, his once beautiful face becoming gnarled with bloodlust and fury. He lunged forward with his sword, but the older High Elf batted it aside with a magically hardened hand. His hand glowed a dull purple, small sparks licking against the aged skin.
"You have become a mighty one over the years, Sorcirin, but Elleidon dulls with age. If I can deflect it with a mere spell such as this, then you are surely to lose."
Sorcirin frowned, eyeing his Elven sword, Elleidon.
"Maybe so. But my magical skills have not diminished since the day you taught me them!" shouted Sorcirin, sending a wave of flame towards the old master.
"Your life ends here, Master Alnimir!"
The flames twisted and twirled as they approached Alnimir, but he remained silent and unmoving. Finally, he raised the magically hardened hand, and pointed towards the oncoming fire. It didn't come within a foot of the purplish sparks. The fire immediately split in two, winding around the old Altmer.
"Damn you!" shouted the younger, preparing another spell. A grey mist winded up into the sky, and shot down towards Alnimir. Sorcirin laughed triumphantly, assured that his old master would die at this moment.
The grey mist became a howling banshee, it's scream so loud it shattered the wine glasses held by the spectators on the upper section.
"Finally putting that Siren spell I taught you to good use, eh, Sorcirin?" shouted Alnimir with a chuckle.
Once again, Alnimir used his magical hand to stop the spell. But this time he struck it head on, and the grey, ghostly apparition exploded into sparkling dust.
"Strange," said Sorcirin, walking proudly towards his master, who had yet to break a sweat.
"That my spell had no effect on you. You told me yourself that the moment a Siren exploded, it would corrupt and destroy the mind of it's victim. Yet you remain sane. Why is this, my old friend?"
Alnimir smiled faintly, patting his hands to rid them of the Siren's dust.
"
The strongest wizards have hardened their minds with so much magical fortification that lesser Sirens have no effect whatsoever."
"But that was no lesser Siren. It was a Grand Siren. You told me so yourself!"
"Well?"
Alnimir grinned, drawing a golden blade from his hip.
"I suppose I have strong enough magical fortifications to block out the Siren's wail. I will have to visit my master's grave afterwards to thank him for the training!"
Sorcirin's face contorted with anger and hatred. He spat at the ground, and rushed towards his old master. Alnimir simply summoned a massive, purple wall in front of him. Sorcirin's eyes narrowed. A shielding spell. He stopped before he collided with the wall, and began a chant. Suddenly, he took off from the ground, and levitated over the shield. But Alnimir had already began to conjure something else. A small, fiery gate exploded into thin air above Alnimir, and out shot a hundred daedric arrows, speeding towards Sorcirin's heart. He simply summoned a daedric shield, which became a pincushion for the arrows. He tossed it aside, the two daedric objects vanishing and returning to a very bewildered Dremora back in Oblivion.
Alnimir sent a bolt of magicka sky rocketing towards Sorcirin, who summoned a shield spell of his own, this one much smaller and concentrated. But the bolt of raw power surged onwards, pushing Sorcirin further up into the sky. The crowd gasped, some with excitement and others with fear. Sorcirin was slowly being pushed up, as the bolt of energy quickly dug through his shield. It began to crack, like a translucent, purple wall of glass. Suddenly, the magical missile ruptured the shield, and purple glass-like shards harmlessly showered the audience.
Sorcirin was sent flying into the sky, the bolt of energy tearing through his raiment, and digging into his flesh. But the spell soon dissipated, and Sorcirin came falling back down to earth. He used a lesser slow-fall spell to land safely on the ground. It was then Sorcirin realized four-dozen bows were aimed at him. He looked towards his grinning master, to see him surrounded by well over forty skeletons, armed with bows and arrows. It began to rain, turning the beautiful golden hair of Sorcirin's into dark clumps that covered his emerald eyes.
"Try to resist Sorcirin, and you will be filled with four dozen holes. Give up now. I do not want the title of Grand Champion. You can have it. I do not wish to kill you either."
Sorcirin shouted with rage.
"You think I'd willingly accept defeat?! We came here to settle this once and for all! You took something away from me that I'll never be able to get back!" shouted the Altmer in incomparable fury, as the rain beat down on the arena harder.
"Your life is far more important than some stone, Sorcirin."
"Some stone? Just some stone?! It was-"
"It was a black soul gem. The soul of your little brother, Sorcirin."
"What- No I?no?."
"Don't act like you don't know. You murdered your brother and trapped his soul in a black soul gem. You planned to fuse souls with him and become a Lich. Am I correct?"
Sorcirin was speechless. He tried to form words but they fluttered hopelessly across his lips. He frowned, and gripped Elleidon tighter.
"I will make ribbons out of your flesh, Alnimir."
"Attempt to harm me and you will be struck down by a force you couldn't begin to comprehend," said Alnimir, wrapping both hands around the hilt of his shimmering sword, Goldbrand.
"Your taunts are meaningless to someone as advanced in the arcane arts as myself!" sneered Sorcirin.
"I practically created you," said Alnimir with a strong tone in his voice.
"And I can sure as hell destroy you as well."
"Enough!" Sorcirin finally bellowed, firing a bolt of magicka from his open palm.
It was met with an equally powerful blast from Alnimir's end, and the two waves of surging energy exploded with a thunderous clash. The sheer magnitude of power made the heavens rumble with thunder, sending magical lightning streaking and spiraling across the now dark sky. The bloody grates of the arena were washed by the torrential rains, as the storm shook the coliseum stands. The eruption of energy left a large, charred hole in the center of the arena. Alnimir looked as if he was running low on power, but Sorcirin merely growled, raw power practically surging through his veins. He was not a mortal being. Not anymore.
"What have you become?" said a weakened Alnimir, the scorn and sorrow evident in his voice.
"You are not the Altmer I have trained? you? you're changed? you've become a monster," the old man managed to say, as thick veins began to appear on Sorcirin's skin, glowing with magical energy.
Suddenly a realization struck the old Altmer, and he nearly toppled over in astonishment.
"You? you didn't?"
"I have," replied Sorcirin, his voice shaking with might.
"You? you drank Ayleid Elixir? but? it would burn the very innards of an Altmer? you'd-"
"-have to be part Ayleid?" said Sorcirin, finishing the sentence for his old master.
"I don't understand," replied Alnimir, not fully grasping this news.
"Mordilic was not my father. My mother re-married. My real father was not an Altmer. He was an Ayleid. My mother, Alnimir, is a vampire. Was a vampire. She cured herself. But that does not change the fact that she has lived for more than a few thousand years. She fell in love with an Ayleid. They had two sons. One was named Elleidon, and the other was me, named after an Ayleid city. Elleidon was a full-blooded Ayleid, but I was only half. You are correct in believing that I killed Elleidon. And yes, I did trap his soul in a black soul gem, that I got by? bartering with a few necromancers. Not something I'm proud of."
"You killed your own brother!"
"He was a power hungry bastard!"
"And you're not?"
"I?I?"
"I did what needed to be done. My brother, his soul? it's always with me now," said Sorcirin, his sword shimmering in the thundering sky.
"And the soul gem you took, Alnimir? it was not my brother's soul."
"No?"
"I found my father's soul lingering in an Ayleid Tomb, close to Black Marsh. He was not happy that I had come to see him. He transmuted his soul to a Lich I had slain. It was a long battle. One that lasted many days. But finally, I had my fathers soul. I could have become a full-blooded Ayleid! But no? you ruined it for me!"
Alnimir stood there, aghast at the insidious machinations of his pupil's sinister mind. Is this the wizard he created? Alnimir had to stop him now, before he did become a full blooded Ayleid. Then he would be unstoppable.
"I had no idea that this was the true form of the child I had raised. I found you alone, and weak, dying in an alleyway of the Imperial City. I rescued you. Fed you. Gave you a home. And this is how you repay me? I now see why you wanted to challenge me?"
"To reap the benefits of your soul, of course," said Sorcirin with a wicked smile.
"And what exactly do you need my soul for, Sorcirin? Plan to reconstruct the remnants of Ald'Vahra?"
"Ald'Vahra? That old hag? What use would she be to me? No, no, no. My plan is far more intricate than that."
"Seeing as I cannot get the Ayleid soul I require? I plan to resurrect one. A very powerful one."
"You? you couldn't."
"Ah but I could. Umaril will walk the earth again. And when he has arisen to power, I will steal his throne and claim his soul using the soul-stealing properties of my dear brother, Elleidon," said Sorcirin, ending it in a maniacal laugh as he hoisted the black sword into the air.
"You are madder than Sheogorath."
"Ah yes, but far more powerful!"
"You must be stopped."
"You will try, I assume?"
"And succeed!" roared Alnimir, giving the skeletons the order to fire. Fifty waves of arrows rained down on the unmoving figure of Sorcirin, who merely batted them away with a blast of magicka.
"Is that all?"
"Far from it," said Alnimir, summoning a massive cloud of darkness.
"The Black Siren? " said Sorcirin, growing quiet. The black mist was launched forward, and with an ear piercing shriek it wrapped around the Altmer, before he could escape. It rose upward, dragging the golden-skinned man along.
"Be gone," said Alnimir, whose voice rang with magical energy. And suddenly the Black Siren exploded, sending rays of light in every direction. A loud screech boomed across the stadium, and the audience went silent. The dark clouds parted, revealing a sunny sky beyond. Alnimir sighed, and fell from exhaustion. But before he could speak a word, the audience roared with cheering and approval. Alnimir smiled faintly as he passed unconscious. Meanwhile, the torn limbs and bones of Sorcirin were flying around in the Stratosphere, where the Black Siren had exploded. They were all moving towards a point where the magicka was strongest. Flesh and bone joined together, and once again the figure of Sorcirin was alive and well. He sneered. All that remained to join was his hand, grasping a glowing Elleidon. It lay on the arena floor. Soon he would be one again, and soon, Alnimir would pay.
