Swordsingers

Chapter 1
The Market in Bruma

Maximus looked at the strange fruit with interest. They were nothing like he had ever seen, and was curious.

"And these come from Argonia, you say?" He asked the merchant, who was running the stand.

"But of course! The finest Smockberries you will ever find!" The merchant replied enthusiastically. The cold wind whipped up against the two, and the merchant drew his coat closer. "Are you going to take them or not? Snow is supposed to come tonight, my roosters are a-yellin'!" Maximus looked at the merchant with disbelief, not outright, but as if he were saying something incorrect.

"Is that right? From what you just said, you have roosters. And I'm pretty sure merchants don't have roosters. These?'Smockberries' as you call them, are nothing but frauds, friend." He smiled beneath his hood. Yes, he was hooded. And yes, he was trying to conceal who he was.

The farmer looked at him in shocking disbelief, trying to find a way out of the trap he had just dug for himself. "Uh?Well,?..er?." He stuttered.

"Look, old man, I have already bought these here apples, venison, and other crap; I think my business is done here." Maximus said, looking down at the old man from beneath his hood. A cold wind stabbed at his arms, and he pulled his cloak closer.

"Well, hold on there! Maybe I don' wan'a do business with you no more!" The farmer replied quickly, and a smirk quickly appeared on his face.

"What do you mean, you don't want to do business? I already paid you for these things; they're mine." Maximus replied irritably. Another cold wind swept across the twilight of Bruma. The sun was dropping, and it would be best to get out of there before the night round of guards comes around; and they are wide awake, unlike the tired day round that was coming to an end.

"Look, it's getting dark, I'm just going to go." Maximus said, and turned away.

"Ohh!" The farmer said, looking up into the sky. "That's right! Angus is in town, today! Wouldn't want to miss out on his stories!" He rolled his cart into a horse shelter, apparently changed to keep farmers' things from freezing overnight. After rolling it in, he made his way to the chapel, quickly.

"Hm." Maximus grunted, satisfied that he could finally leave. He turned to make his way out of town, through the South Gate, when he walked in front of the Chapel. There was quite a large crowd amassed before an aged Nord, who had already delved into one of his epics.

Maximus quickly made his way behind the crowd, when something caught his ear; it made him freeze and listen to the rest of the story.

"?the swordsingers are real, alright, that's for sure. I have seen them with my own eyes!"

Maximus' eyes widened at the 'swordsingers'. He turned to face the Nord, and listened to the rest of his story.

"They can run as fast as a horse, and are as strong as a ogre! I also saw them makin' magic with their swords! Lemme tell you this, them swordsingers are some scary stuff. I thinks that they are just a bunch of criminals that joined and made a gang, but who knows." The Nord took a short pause as people 'oohed' and 'awed'. Others muttered things of disapproval to one another.

Maximus, on the other hand, couldn't believe his ears. He was frozen in his steps, due to the words that had flowed from the Nord's mouth. He had not even noticed that the sun was down, and the day shift of guard had already been replaced.

A noise from behind caught Maximus' attention, and he quickly swerved to face his new threat. His hand gripped his concealed sword, ready to unsheath at a moment's notice. He turned to see a guard talking to him, and Maximus' heart froze.

"I said, where are you from? I don--wait a second. You look familiar." It was a Redguard, and he was peeking into Maximus' hood. Maximus quickly pulled his hood down further, and turned to walk away. A hand grabbed his sword arm, meaning that the guard would notice if he made the slightest movement toward his sword.

"I know you! You are that insane murderer! You slaughtered your parents, you filthy pig! You're going to get a nice long sentence in the Bruma dungeons." He stared at Maximus with malicious intent, and more guards came up from behind.

Damn! I knew I spent too much time in this place. Maximus looked around, the crowd which was listening to Angus' stories now watched his every move. He couldn't reveal himself?not here, atleast. The guards started to drag him to the castle, to take him to the dungeons. And no, there was no chance of paying his bounty. Even the money that he carried was not his own, plus his bounty was around 10,000 septims or something.

They took him upstairs, and out of the sight of the crowd. Good, now to get away.

His training had become second-nature to him, and it kicked in like breathing. He quickly recessed his mind into his body, and took control of the magicka flowing through his veins. Normally, casters call upon magicka to flow through the fingertips, but Maximus knew of other ways to utilize the magic. He pushed Magicka into his calf and thigh muscles, and prepared to jump.

It took him nearly a second to do all of this, and he pushed up from the ground. His arms were immediately yanked free of the two guards, who looked around in dismay.

Maximus softly landed on the city walls of Bruma, the magicka ebbing from his legs. He jumped from the wall down into the wilderness, and began running toward his encampent.

And the Guards would not know any better; because, yes, our friend Maximus is a swordsinger.

Swordsingers. That's an interesting word. How did you come by it?

Already a term use in tes lore.

Sword singers swords are their spirits i believe, not magicka.

You are correct, though it does take a talent in magick to form the sword. The sword is called a Shehai, and if you want get a good picture of try imagining a thought-derived lightsaber formed from your own spirit. Just being a sword-singer doesn't make you capable of forming a Shehai, or at least one that can be used as a weapon, those that reach that level are known as the Ansei (and its arguable that only the greatest of them can form spirit-swords).


The main problem I see with the story is that you've taken a character and made him a sword-singer, you haven't taken a sword-singer and made him your character. By that I mean that your character doesn't act like an actual sword-singer would act, not to mention that he's an Imperial (or so I assume by his Imperial name) and its the Redguard that have the Ansei. You can argue that an Imperial could become one, but its very unlikely (not only because its a Redguard discipline but also because there are very few left in existence anyway), and if they did its unlikely that they'd spend their time running from guards. To master the technique takes years of almost religious dedication and practice, probably a lifetime to all but the very best.

A sword-singer should be looked at more as a solemn warrior, dedicated solely to the art of war and the discipline of the sword, not some swashbuckling adventurer (not to mention killing the parents, what are we some stereotypical assassin with a traumatic childhood)...

Truly, I made this all up.

I had no idea this actually connected to lore.
That's pretty amazing.

Well, I'll keep on going with my dude, but I'll mix some of the lore that I have now learned in there.
Thanks, guys.

Oh, and he's not a swashbuckling adventurer, and about his parents; just wait and learn about that.

Chapter 2
Swordsingers

Maximus had continued to walk across the snow-coated ground, each step resulting in a slushy crunch. The snow began to fade, however, as he made his way south; and he had made his way into a small, evergreen forest.

Swordsingers fight with their soul. From it, they are able to bring reservoirs of magicka and energy into battles. However, the occasion that somebody was a swordsingers was rare, and very far in-between. Swordsingers' souls always generated an aura. The aura is invisible to the untrained eye, but the trained could learn to see it. An aura reflected the personality of a person. If the person was nasty and evil, it generally turned red or black; and the opposite was white or green. However, every Swordsingers had a different aura. And since there were not many Swordsingers alive at one time, one swordsingers could memorize and recognize another's aura.

And that just so happened at this moment. Maximus looked up to see a familiar aura. It was a friend of his, Aspoorika, he called himself. Maximus knew that wasn't a natural Redguard name, and had no idea why Aspoorika called himself that. However, it was none of his business.

Aspoorika seemed to notice Maximus' aura as well, and called out: "Hey, Maximus!" He finally came into view. He was a tall Redguard, dark skin, and a braided ponytail. He wore a long, green mask over his face to conceal it. Once again, Maximus had no idea why he wears it, but it was none of his business.

"Aspoorika Swordsinger, sir." Maximus said as the two met; the black night engulfing the trees.

"Ah," Said Aspoorika, "Sticking to customs, I see? Well then, I greet thee Apprentice Maximus." Maximus quickly scoffed at the name 'Apprentice'. As was the Swordsinger custom, any swordsingers under the age of 20 was an apprentice, regardless of the level of skill. Although he may not look it, Maximus was only 18 years of age, limiting him to an apprentice. Maximus didn't mind the title, but it was the weapon that Apprentices had to use that pissed him off.

Apprentices use swords made of iron, steel, and a wee bit of magic. However, Swordsingers use swords created from their own soul. Maximus had practiced with soul swords, as it was part of his training, but was forbidden to fight a battle with it. He envied the others of higher age, and wished that he could fight like them.

"Well," Aspoorika said, "let's get you back to camp."

"Why'd you come out here anyway, Asp?" Maximus said, calling Aspoorika by the shorter nickname he had produced for him a long time ago,

"Felnar Swordsinger-kachou sent me to come get you. Thought you got caught, and they locked you up. Was going to give you a lock pick in this Shepard's Pie, here." Aspoorika said, holding out a Shepard's Pie. "Anyway," he said, "you got the food? Please tell me you got some apples."

Maximus showed him a bag, and pulled out a fresh, red apple.

"JA!" Aspoorika yelled as he grabbed the apple. Maximus smiled at Asp. 'Ja' was 'Yes', but Maximus didn't know what language. He had a strong feeling that Aspoorika had made it up himself, but it didn't matter. It's how he expressed feeling, and that was alright with him.

Aspoorika felt on the apple, searching for any impurities; as the two walked through the forest.

They finally arrived at a clearing, where four other people sat. Maximus had noticed them long ago, because of their auras. They were all swordsingers. Each and every one of them. Save Apprentice Shura, who was struggling with the training. Felnar Swordsinger-kachou had been training him day-in, day-out. Training was not easy work, you were constantly working, taking breaks only for eating, sleeping, or waste purposes. Maximus had really no need of training any more, as he was as good as any other swordsinger.

He noticed all of them at once. The solemn, yet deadly, Rakeem. Maximus didn't know much about Rakeem. His mystery was a past, and he didn't talk much. Rakeem was an Argonian, by the way, dressed in a black robe. He never took the thing off, and was always staring into the distance. He was doing it, now, staring off; occasionally taking looks at Felnar and Shura sparring.

Shura was an Orc. An odd Swordsinger, Maximus admitted, as Orcs did not have a natural grasp of Magicka, nor their soul. Matter of fact, none of them had. Save Felnar, of course, but the rest had gone through years of training to reach their positions, now. Shura was bigger then Aspoorika, and bulkier too. Strong physically; but not spiritually. Black War-Braids were matted to his skin, as he dodged a high blow from Felnar. Felnar was using a particualrary long sword. The dark color of onyx, partially transparent. Felnar was so strong, even his sword had it's own aura. Maximus could only count one or two in history that had auras for their swords.

Felnar was a Dark Elf, if you haven't noticed. He is an average size, about the size of Maximus. Maximus didn't know how old he was, just that he had been a swordsinger for hundreds of years. He was exceptionally good; no, scratch that, he was amazing. Felnar would go down in the history books, for sure. He was also the master of the band of Swordsingers. That's why the name 'kachou' was said after his name.

Then, there was Ra'Zharim Swordsinger, too. He was cooking the last of the food, which was the reason Maximus had to go to Bruma in the first place. Ra'Zharim was one heck of a cook, and not a bad Swordsinger either. Maximus particularly liked his weapon, which was two hook swords. Very technical, and that's how Ra'Zharim fought. Better then Maximus, not nearly as good as Rakeem, not even comparable with Felnar, and on the same level with Aspoorika. Shura wasn't comparable either; if he was to confront another Swordsinger in a real fight right now, then he would get slaughtered.

And Rakeem? He could hold his own with Felnar, and that means he is GOOD. Maximus has trouble keeping up with him. His past is a mystery to Maximus, although he knew Felnar knew all about it. But, what was weird, was Rakeem did not use a spirit sword. His weapon was made out of his spirit, but it was not a sword. It was a scythe, with a blade on both ends, opposite sides. Maximus never knew why, and when he inquired about it, he was waved off.

Rakeem was different, but he was a deadly fighter.

"I'm back!" Maximus announced, although it was not really necessary. Felnar and Shura ignored it, they were too busy training. The others greeted him, and Maximus explained how he was not captured. He wasn't going to say that he used his powers inside the city walls, he would just get scolded and probably would have to run to Chorrol in back, just because. Secrecy is a big thing.

Ra'Zharim had made from stew for him, and Maximus eagerly drained the clay bowl. "It's getting late, so everyone needs to hit the hay; but I imagine that Falden and Shura are going to stay up a little longer." Ra'Zharim said as he took his cloth shirt off and threw it into his tent. He slowly made his way into the tent, and disappeared behind the canvas.

"Well, now! Lets get to bed, then." Aspoorika said, heading toward his tent. Maximus nodded as a wave of fatigue washed over him. His body seemed heavier and his movements seemed slower. He hadn't realized it until now that he was really tired, so he decided to go get some sleep before tomorrow. He walked toward his tent; and he too disappeared behind the canvas.

Chapter 3
Bandits of Dreams
[Warning: Extreme Graphic Violence is included in this next chapter; I advise the young, and squeamish to please read this chapter at their own risk]

Maximus awoke in an old, familiar place. It seemed familiar, like he had been there before, but couldn't make it out. It was dark, and had four, quiet walls encompassing him. A lonesome desk sat in the corner, and a table of emptied plates and bowls in the other corner. In the middle of the room, a simple bed lay in solitude. Maximus seemed to be floating up above the entire room, looking at everything like a bird.

A person slowly opened the door, and slowly made their way into the room. A single candle held by the intruder illuminated the darkness, revealing a child that lay in the bed, snoring ever-so-softly. Maximus' heart raced; was the intruder going to murder him?

But then he remembered. The intruder lit a dim candle on the table, and another on the desk. The whole room was slightly illuminated, and the child awoke. Yes, the intruder was a butler; Maximus remembered as some of the mystery was revealed.

The boy, about the age of six or seven, slowly rolled out of bed; and rubbed his eyes, which were uncomfortable in the sudden light. Maximus recognized the boy, too, but couldn't put his finger on it. Closer inspection revealed a questionable fact: Is that me? Maximus soon confirmed his thoughts, and he tried to figure out: Why was he in this room, and so little?

And then Maximus remembered. The little boy was him at a younger age. He remembers the horrors of that morning, and it was all about to play out right in front of him. The boy held out a single hand, and the butler looked inquisitively at it, then the unthinkable happened. Fire flew from the boy's hand, engulfing the once-butler; reducing him to nothing but ashes that picked up and flew out the opened window.

Duval was the butler's name, Maximus remembered, and Maximus had shared great times with him. A single tear rolled down his eye for the lost. The boy, on the other hand, did not flinch. He walked to the door, where it opened for him. The bedroom molded into a furnature-drowned living room, with the boy descending down the stairs. As he walked by; couches, desks, tables, papers, and everything else caught fire. He made his way to the west wall, where a single door sat. The door simply exploded, bits flying everywhere. Smoke rose from the once-door and the young boy entered through.

The living room molded into a extravagant bedroom, where the boy's mother and father lay. Awaken by the explosion, they sat up in their beds, frantic. They seemed to look relieved when the young boy entered, but their faces turned to horror and shock as they were lifted up by unseen forces. They hung in the air, screaming for the boy, crying for help. But it would not come.

The bodies flew against the wall, smashing into furnature, walls, and everything else. Bones cracked, and joints snapped. The bodies thrashed about, limbs flying through the air; blood-curdled screams for help pierced the night. Maximus could not watch the horror, but only heard the sounds of breaking bones and screams for help.

The mother was crying, the father was dead. They were both missing their legs, and the mother looked for something to grab onto. The father hung limp; continuing to fly into the walls. Flesh was ripped from bone, and skulls were visible. The cries and screams of the mother soon stopped as her head smashed against a bookcase, snapping her neck.

The horrors continued for nearly 10 minutes; the boy just sitting their, expressionless. When it was over, the bodies did not look even remotely Human. Just a hump of red tissue and white bone.

The room begun to melt, but the boy stood where he was, not moving. The blood, the bodies; they all melted into blackness. Soon there was nothing there but the boy, and he flew to Maximus' position. Maximus' heart filled with fear; he did not want to get tortured like his parents. The boy was now 3 feet in front of him, and he stopped. Maximus drew up the courage to look at the boy, to look at him. But when he looked in his eyes, there was nothing but white.
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Maximus awoke quickly, grabbing his sword next to him, and swinging in all different directions. He was dripping with sweat, and the tent fell down around him. The commotion didn't seem to wake anybody though. Maximus could not count how many times he has had this exact same dream. He couldn't go back to sleep, and it was still hours from daylight. He grabbed his bag, sword, and headed off. He wasn't running away from the band of swordsingers, just taking a walk. He walked through the forest, and onto a small ridge overlooking the dark landscape. He dropped his things and sat upon a rock, staring into the abyss.

A hand suddenly gripped his shoulder, and he instantly made a sword of his soul, which is actually called a kontanacciaio (Konta for short). As he turned his head, he recognized the aura of Felnar. He looked disapprovingly at the Konta, and Maximus quickly extinguished it. He stood up and said, "Felnar Swordsinger-kachou! My sword was not in hand, so I was just-"

"And why was your sword not in hand?" Felnar said, still looking at Maximus. They were about the same size, but Felnar seemed so much bigger then what he actually was. Maximus couldn't come up with a good retaliation to that, and just extended his apologies.

Felnar nodded, and took a seat beside Maximus. Maximus grabbed his sword, and placed it through his belt. "Your dream again, I suppose?" Felnar asked, still looking at the Colovian Highlands.

"Yes, kachou." Maximus confirmed, gazing at the Dark Elf.

"I suppose it's time to tell you of your history then, I suppose." Maximus' heart fluttered at that, he wanted to know his history. But he quickly wondered how Felnar knew of it, and he didn't.

"You are different then other swordsingers, Maximus." Started the Dark Elf as he stared at the darkness. "All swordsingers fight using their soul, and Magicka. Both of them are constantly producing energy, which are stored in what we call the Korosac. The Korosac is located right next to your heart, and the size depends on the person. Swordsingers usually rate Korosacs as D Class all the way to S Class. I myself only have an A Class, which is not as nearly as good as an S Class.

"Anyways, when the Korosac is full, something called a Spirit Fire happens. And that is when the Korosac is emptied, and a person's actions are uncontrollable. Usually, a Sprit Fire is not that big of a deal, depending on the size. D Class Spirit Fires, meaning that a person has a D Class Korosac, are usually just opening a chest with Magick. Not a big deal, as I said before. S Class Spirit Fires could be as simple as picking up 10 pieces of furniture with magick, and then setting them back down.

"Maximus, you are the first to break the Korosac Scale. Your Korosac must be at least twice the size of an S Class. Meaning, that you can draw upon unbelievable amounts of power in battle. But, you have to use this power wisely, because it can end up killing you, your friends, me, Aspoorika, Rakeem, and everyone else.

"Well, now about your history. The incident that took place that night was simply a Spirit Fire. You had no control of your actions at all, and since you never used any of your Magicka or Spirit at such a young age, it built up. That is why you killed your parents. You are no murderer, Maximus."

Maximus stared at the Dark Elf, dumbfounded by what he heard. He opened his mouth to speak, but Felnar quickly shushed him.

"Bandits approach," he said, in the softest voice, "do you have your sword?" Maximus nodded.

And Felnar was right, bandits crept behind them merely a minute after Felnar's warning.

"Hey! You two! Hand over your stuff or else me and him are gonna kill ya!" A bandit yelled. Maximus smiled at the words. Bandits were so uneducated, so barbaric.

"My apprentice and I do not tolerate your kind. Now, if you will kindly leave us to our peace." Felnar said, not attempting to turn around. Maximus knew that his attempt at peace would not work, as did Felnar. But, he always tried to make peace instead of war. However, war is what he was going to get.

The bandits laughed at the remark.

Maximus drew his sword, and turned around.

"Go ahead, Maximus. I'll watch." Felnar said, as he too turned around to face the bandits.

Maximus chuckled, "With pleasure, kachou."

I didn't read it all, but what I did seemed an improvement.

Chapter 4
The Haku

Maximus gripped his sword in his hand. He looked fiercly at the two bandits. He quickly anolyzed his foe. One was an Orc, slow but powerful. He was wielding an axe, the most barbaric weapon, so it would be relatively easy to fell him. But the Khajiit with the mace would be a bit tougher. The mace was quick, and if used properly, quite deadly. They were both clad in a fur armor, which means they were extremely vulnerable. If they were bandits, then they would have almost no fighting ability, making it easy.

Maximus frowned, it was too easy of an opponent.

The Orcish bandit was the first to make a move. Maximus quickly let his soul flow through his body, making him stronger, faster, and deadlier. He opened his eyes, and saw clearer and farther. He let his magicka mingle with his soul, creating a deadlier killing machine then before. The Orc was nearly at him, his axe over his head.

As he brought in down in a slow, strong motion; Maximus quickly rolled to the side. He was up on his feet, next to the Orc before it had even completed it’s attack. Maximus brought up his foot, and smashed it into the Orc’s face. The Bandit’s feet lifted up off the ground, then touched again. The Orc fell over, clutching his face.

The Khajiit was on him now, flinging his mace. The Khajiit brought his mace down as hard as he could, but Maximus was ready. His heightened sences seemed to slow down time, and he caught the Khajiit’s arm in his hand. The Khajiit looked in terror, and kicked Maximus in the hip.

The Orc was up now, and was slowly coming at him. Maximus, with his sword hand free, quickly thrusted it into the Khajiit’s throat, ending his life insantly. The dead body dropped against the ground, creating a hollow thump.

The Orc froze for a moment, but rage took over him. He took his hand away from his face, showing a disfigured, broken Orcish stare.

“Maximus, there’s trouble at camp. Finish him quickly, and meet me there.” Felnar’s voice echoed into Maximus’ head, interrupting the battle. The Dark Elf, who was sitting, stood up and flashed toward the camp. Maximus shrugged and looked back at the Orc. He was still sitting there, huffing and puffing with rage.

Maximus held out his sword, and pointed it at the orc. He put his forefinger next to his middle finger, and took an erratic breath. He brought his hand, from his right shoulder, down to the stomach. He then brought the fingers out, parallel to the sword, and shoved them toward the Orc.

The whole process had taken nearly 2 seconds, and a fire erupted from Maximus’ sword. The Orc looked up in horror, and screamed as a red flame engulfed him. Maximus instantly turned around, and ran back to camp.

That was a very simple move, wouldn’t take down another swordsinger. A bandit? Yes. A swordsinger? Not at all.

Halfway to camp, he noticed three black auras. Black auras only meant one thing: The Haku.

The Haku were basically evil swordsingers. They have chosen a life of vice, not virtue. A Haku wants money, power, and will do anything for it. On the other hand, Swordsingers only care about virtue: bravery, chivalry, charity, and humility; stuff like that.

And there were Haku at the camp. He couldn’t tell how much from this distance, but there were a good amount.

When Maximus finally arrived at the camp, it was in disarray. There was the clashing of metal, and the yelling of people. Maximus kept his sword drawn, trying to find an opponent.

“Regroup!” A hefty voice yelled.

A strong looking Nord appeared, followed by three other hooded Haku. He could tell that one of them was a female, and another was Argonian, but that was it.

They each held nasty looking Kontas, and didn’t look happy.

“Master Aranil is pretty tired of you swordsingers. And since you have an apprentice with you,” Maximus snarled, then corrected him.

“You mean two, can you even count?”

The Nord laughed at him, hysterically. The other Haku didn’t flinch.

“Sharu is dead.” The voice belonged to Rakeem. It was a rare voice, and when you heard it, it meant business.

“No way!” Maximus said, tears coming up in his eyes.

He remembered Sharu, he had been like a little brother. He was coming along well, too. It hadn’t been long since they picked him up in Orsinium, a rare swordsinger. He remembers all the days that they trained together, and when they told jokes. Shura always had the best jokes, and the best sense of humor…

“You’ll pay for that!” Maximus yelled, and launched himself at the Nord.

“Maximus!” Felnar yelled, and rushed after him. The rest of the swordsingers followed, and the battle ensued.

Maximus brought down a quick blow, but it was deflected by the Nord. The Female was behind him, too; so he would have to fight them both until one of his friends relieved him. They both stuck quickly and feircly, and Maximus had a hard time keeping up. He was grazed by a sword, and grazed a second time. He was going to die if he couldn’t get his stuff together.

He couldn’t seem to get an offensive blow in, he was too busy blocking. Maximus felt a weight lift off his shoulders as Ra’Zharim started battle with the Nord. It was just Maximus and the chick, and he wasn’t going to lose to some girl. She seemed to hesitate, and then got into her battle stance.

Maximus started by taking a controlled, deep breath. He closed his eyes, and put his forefinger against his thumb. Kind of like the “A-OK!” signal, and he put it to his lips. He exhaled, very strong and controlled. Ice flew from his lips, a spray of ice rocketed toward the female. She brought her Konta up and blocked it.

Maximus envied that. You couldn’t block magical attacks with a real sword, like his, but you could with a Konta. Maximus stopped his spray, and followed up with a strong slash.

She quickly parried, and tried for a counter. She dropped down, sword still against sword, and sweeped Maximus’ legs. Maximus lost his balance, and fell to the ground. Before she could deliver a finishing blow, he caught her off guard with a joutou.

A joutou is when a Haku or Swordsinger uses a great amount of soul energy or magicka to make an extremely quick move. Much like teleportation, except that the person actually moves.

She quickly looked around, trying to find Maximus. However, Maximus had a trick up his sleeve. While she was frantically searching, a hand came up from the ground and grabbed her ankle. Maximus had made a joutou under the ground.

He then used her ankle to pull himself up out the ground. It required a lot of energy, but it did the trick. He spun around and delivered a crushing blow to her back. She cried in pain, and turned to face Maximus.

Just at that moment, the Haku Argonian cried, “Retreat, our jumbe is slain!”

Maximus smiled as the Haku retreated. The Argonians called their leaders jumbe, which literally means ‘leader’ in their language. Ra’Zharim smiled as he looked at the dead Haku Nord at his feet. The Nord’s Konta was diminished, but a relish of it lay about 10 feet from him.

Ra’Zharim had used his hook sword to disarm the Haku and slay him. Man, that was cool.

“Buntai, kachou?” Aspoorika said, tending to the dead Shura.

Buntai was a Haku group. The smaller the number, the weaker the group.

Felnar searched the corpse, and found the number ‘2’ tattooed on the Nord’s back.

“Only a two, we got out lucky.” he replied.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, kachou.” Rakeem said, pointing at the dead apprentice.

Felnar frowned, and began to bury his body.

Another swordsinger had been killed by The Haku. How long would it take for them to destroy the entire swordsinger population?


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I know not alot of people are reading this, but I will continue to keep writing.

Chapter 5
The Truth and Buntaika

Nobody slept that night. Nobody talked, nobody ate, nobody drank, everyone just sat there. It was in respect of the dead swordsinger, Shura. Apprentice and Swordsinger alike, all deaths were followed by strict vigils. It was rumored that when a swordsinger died, he was reincarnated in another baby. Felnar dispelled those rumors though, he said they were incorrect.

After the first rays of sun peeked over the Jerral Mountians, the group made breakfast. Ra’Zharim cooked up some fish, and put some honey on bread. If anything Ra’Zharim was a great cook, also a great fighter. However, his supplies came at a cost; and with nobody with an actual profession in the group, they were barely scraping by.

Gold would be taken off killed Bandits or Marauders, or other people. 100 gold coins was taken off the corpse of the Nord, and that would last them a while. Maximus interrupted the quiet breakfast.

“How come there are so many Haku and so little Swordsingers? I thought Swordsingers were rare, and there wasn’t that many. But…there are so many Haku! What’s the deal?” A moment of silence ensued before it was answered. Of course, it was Felnar.

“Against popular belief, Swordsingers are actually quite common. About one in every hundred children are swordsingers. The only problem is, only about one in one thousand swordsingers know they are actually swordsingers. Some recognize their power, but only think that they are magically gifted. Others don’t know anything about our kind, so they don’t ever capitalize on their situation.

“However, Anaril has been sniffing these children out and showed them their true, actual powers. Swordsingers believe that the unknowing swordsingers must find their own way, but the Haku think different. They capitalize on our beliefs and turning them to Haku.” Maximus listened closely, even though Aspoorika, Ra’Zharim, and Rakeem already knew this.

“If there are two swordsingers, and they have a kid, is it more likely for it to be a swordsinger then a regular child?” Maximus questioned.

“Yes.” Faldom answered, his mouth full of honey-bread.

A long silence followed, and everyone finished their breakfast. The day went by slowly, as mostly everyone watched Shura and Felnar practice. But, the situation was different now…

When it was later, and dinner was being served by the Khajiit, Felnar brought up some exciting news.

“Maximus, your birthday is in a week. Only a year more of apprenticeship.”

Maximus wondered how Felnar knew what day his birthday was, and Maximus didn’t. It didn’t bother him too much, he was too enthralled with the new news. He overlooked all the Swordsingers nodding, and Ra’Zharim said, “It’s time we taught you the truth.” Maximus smiled and didn’t take it seriously.

“What truth, that Rakeem is quiet? We all know that.” Nobody laughed. Shura would of laughed, though.

“Maximus,” Rakeem said. The rare voice always caught Maximus’ attention. He never talked, save when it was serious. “this is serious.”

“Right,” Aspoorika said, “are you going to tell him, Ra’Zharim?” The Khajiit nodded and began.

“Maximus, when you were in Bruma, we came across some bad news. Do you remember those Bosmer Swordsingers?”

Maximus remembered the group of Bosmer Swordsingers. They were all girls, too. They weren’t hot though, so Maximus didn’t take any interest in them. However, they were extremely good fighters. He remembered there were four of them, and they met them somewhere in Vvalenwood. They were as tough as nails.

“Yeah, I remember them.” Maximus replied.

“Well, Felnar had been aura-gazing at them since we met them,”

Maximus remembered what aura-gazing was. It was when you had a puddle of water, and you said some kind of incantation. Then you say their name, and their aura shows up in the puddle. You couldn’t communicate with them, but you could check on their health, and location.

“and, well, they are dead, Maximus.”

Maximus spit out the water he was drinking, his mind flailing wildly.

“What!? Those chicks could kill anyone!? How are they dead!?”

Ra’Zharim looked grimly at him, “Maximus, it was the Buntaika.”

Maximus’ face went white. The Buntaika were a buntai, except they were the most elite Haku ever assembled. They were the scariest guys on the planet, and could waste Maximus in seconds. It was told that whenever Anaril himself wanted to go somewhere, he went with the Buntaika.

“W-where were they last seen?” Maximus said, his voice now shrill.

“Falkreath.” Rakeem said, looking off into the distance.

“Falkreath!? But that’s extremely close. Ar-Are they coming our way?”

All at once, the four Swordsinger nodded.

A tear stolled down Maximus’ face. He knew that he couldn’t even stand close to the Buntaika. Which means, he was going to die. He tried to think up ways to get out of the fight, or get some help.

“What about other Swordsingers? Ca-can we get them to help us?”

Everyone looked at each other, and nobody spoke.

“Well, what!?” Maximus demanded.

Rakeem finally broke the silence, “Maximus, we are the last Swordsingers…”

I like it. :goodjob: