Yeah, but my prison escape wasn't like you see in the game, gave it my own twist. Imo, in the game you don't really escape, you basically walk out, agreed? In my story Baurus, The Emperor etc don't appear. (yet?)

@Avenger55: don't worry, It'll continue. It's not something I just write down in an empty hour. I am loosing sleep over the plot I am thinking of

Sleep is over rated anyways

Remainder of chapter6:

'Yes, we knew who you were before our encounter,' Rhialla reluctantly admitted. Hargeth's face turned to Rhialla, his eyes spread wide. He hadn't expected her to answer. With a raised eyebrow he glanced at Pilatus who just, barely noticable, nodded. Shaking his head in disbelieve he directed his attention back to Rhialla. 'I knew something was up, I had a feeling Pilatus wasn't entirely telling the truth about you. How did you know you I had escaped and was heading your way? You are a lot more powerful than you showed, right?'
'Partially, yes. I noticed your approach about half an hour before you encountered my brother. Sense life is a wonderful skill, don't you think?' she asked in a tone dripping with irony. 'We didn't know it was you until you actually met, I swear.'

He had no reason not to believe that. Why would she lie about that after all they had done for him? He decided to give them the benefit of the doubt 'Go on,' the Elf encouraged her.
'When you two entered the camp I had a feeling you were my neighbour in prison.'
'Then why did you raise your bow?'
'A feeling doesn't mean I was right,' she answered with a smile but there was no amusemant in it.
'I see your point. That still doesn't explain why you helped me.'
'True, let me explain. We are with a secret group who has the best interests of the Empire on their agenda. Officially, we don't exist. We do the jobs this group can't. Have you ever heard about the
Blades?'

Hargeth nodded, 'Maybe once or twice, long time ago though.'
'Good. It has come to the Blades' attention there is a traitor of the Empire. And not just anyone. We have reason to believe someone in the council is a traitor. We think this particular? person,' she didn't trust Hargeth enough to name him yet, 'was behind the Emperor's and his sons assassination.'

'The Emperor was assasinated? Now that would have been a job,' he replied with a sly smile. Now it was Rhialla's turn to shake her head in disbelieve. She gave Hargeth a piercing look and then continued: 'He wasn't just the Emperor; he was the last of the Septim bloodline. With him dead, the Empire could fall in disarray if the situation isn't adressed properly.' With pain evident in her eyes, she added:'Even the threat of civil-war is linguiring above our heads.'

'Soooo, what in Oblivion has that got to do with me?' He didn't really like where this was going.
'We need someone with your particular?. skills.'
'Pilatus seems well up to the job,' he said while shrugging.

'If only it were that simple. He is too well-known for what we have in mind.' This remark hightened Hargeth's interests. 'Why? What's so special about this job? And what do you mean Pilatus is too well-known?'

'We want you to?. remove the traitor. Pilatus can't do that because, well, the council knows him through me.' Rhialla had to take a difficult decision; she had to confide in the Elven assassin. The last few days it had become apparent to her this might be the person they had been looking for. Sheer luck had brought him to the Khajiiti siblings. He wasn't as honourable as she would have preferred but, in his own way he was honoust and trustworthy. Pilatus had told her how their grisly job had proceeded. He had performed outstandingly. Like the men had been working together for years rather then they had known each other for a few days. 'I used to be the Archmage's scribe before he was elected High Chancellor.' Hargeth couldn't believe his ears; she was talking about Chancellor Ocato. Politics weren't really his interest but rumours about Ocato's rapid rise to the top, few years ago, had spread like wildfire. Fast, and uncontrollable.

'When I was still his assistant, some day I found a crumpled note underneath his desk. At that time it didn't seem that important. All it mentioned was something about a job being taken care of. Quite random actually. However, when I mentioned the note, he reacted rather strange. Initially he was really angry, swearing and cursing and just as sudden he turned calm, as if nothing had happened,' she shrugged and continued: 'In all the years I've served him, I never seen him act like that. Ofcourse, in hindsight the note turned out a lot more grim and, obviously, a lot more important than I could ever have suspected. That very same week someone tried to kill me. Unfortunately for the would-be killer, he ran into him,' she said while pointing at Pilatus, 'So, now we are in voluntary exile.'
All he could do was frown and smirk at that remark. And then burst out in sincere laughter that wouldn't subside until he ran out of breath.

Rhialla was as nuts as Pilatus. Both had the same weird sense of humour, which he found refreshing, he had noticed many people tend to take themselves way too serious. This was a nice change. But, in his opinion, their plan was even wackier than their sense of humour. How the hell where they ever going to accomplish this feat?

Hargeth flew up from the bedroll he was sitting on, almost kicking over the expensive bottle of wine next to his feet. Abscentmindedly he grabbed the bottle and took a large swag of the crimson wine.

'You want Ocato dead?! You want me to assassinate the High Chancellor? A known master wizard? Are you completely out of your mind?!'

Hargeth never avoided a challenge but even for him, this sounded ridiculous. Stupid even. Heroes would call it bravery. Where does bravery end and stupidity start?
He had never been able telling the two apart.

'That's where we come in. I will teach you the magical skills necessary to defeat a powerful wizard and he will teach you the skills to fight your way out, should you get caught.' Rhialla calmly explained.
'And what's in it for me? Don't tell me, the honour and knowledge I helped save the world?' he asked pointedly while rolling his eyes. 'You might have noticed, honour doesn't fill an empty stomach.' The Khajiiti siblings shared a few glimpses.
'We have indeed noticed,' was her dry reply.
'I'll have to think about it.'
'Naturally.'

'This wine is terrific.'

double post apparantly :facepalm:

a/n I haven't named the next chapter because it isn't finished yet, but decided to share it with you anyway. This is an emotional one though. I found myself emotionally affected by what I wrote myself. Guess it's a goodun. Please excuse me for any typo's / spelling errors.
Enjoy:


Chapter7: Crossroads

'Why me?' he thought in despair.

Hargeth had been thinking about Pilatus' and Rhialla's proposition for days without making a decision. His foot was almost fully healed thanks to Rhialla's care. She turned out to be a really terrific healer. Her cooking wasn't bad either. Last few days had exposed her as the powerful wizard she was denying to be. His foot didn't hurt anymore when he ran, although, in the cold damp morning it was still whining slightly. Rhialla told him it was the scar tissue around his bones in his foot plaguing him and that it could take years to fully heal. She had also taught him a couple of useful spells allowing him to help himself next time.

Although the adventure and the challenge appealed to him, the odds succeeding were stacked up against it. After all, he was a wanted man by the Imperial Legion and he assumed Blackwood company wouldn't like him very much either. That led to another problem. What if he didn't take the job? Where would he go? Back home?

The contemplations brought back memories from his youth. For an Elf he wasn't that old yet. He would be considered in his twenties by his own kin, if he had been human, he would've been in the autumn of his lifespan. He could barely remember his parents, it seemed ages ago he had fled Summerset Isle, never to return again. 'Damned Imperials,' he cursed when the circumstances of his unvoluntary departure opened up to his mind's eye. He had been born a simple boy, born from a family of honoust farmers, living contentedly from what the land provided before Summerset Isle had been annexed to the Tamrielic Empire by force. War had spread hard and merciless. His brother had been drafted to serve his homeland and had died underneath a Cyrodiilic silver long sword early in the war.

His parents were murdered by the Legion under the pretences they had not been cooperative enough. The harsh truth was actually that his parents had risen up when those Imperial pigs had tried to [censored] his sister. Because she had struggled, her rapists had cut her throat. Just like that. Her being dead didn't bother them either. Hargeth had witnessed how those monsters took advantage of the lifeless body of his big sister, time and again. The small farmhouse was torched; he remembered the screams from his parents being burnt alive.

Hiding underneath the bed, he hadn't been noticed by the Imperials and had escaped through a hidden hatch underneath a rug on the floor shortly before the torch was flung through an open window. The ordeal had shaped him an entirely different way his parent would have wanted for him, he was certain. For years, he couldn't remember how many, he had prowled the country, stealing what he needed, killing anyone standing in his way.

The bastards responsible for wiping out his family had been brought a to a sharp, pointy justice. The only justice he knew. He had sought the murderers for years and years, until he had finally traced them to the Cyrodiil capitol, Imperial City and had covertly executed them, like they had executed his parents and his sister in cold blood. His years of searching and the hate he felt towards the wrongdoers had changed him into a bitter, cynical assasin. The painful memories of his past made his heart heavy, a lump in his throat, he just couldn't swallow, annoyed him. He had left it all behind, it was in the past he told himself. 'Then why can't I shake this feeling?' Hargeth asked himself.

The blur that previously had been blocking his memory dissipated, like curtains being drawn open. The memories appeared in a flash to how and why he had ended up in the jail he had escaped from, barely two weeks ago. He remembered falling through the roof of his last target, the officer in charge of the contingency cleaning up what was left of the resistance in his homeland during the war. He hadn't been betrayed after all. Gently he brought a hand to his head, the bump in his head was long gone, it was in a reflex and he ruffled his hair shortly. The moment he had decided to strike, one of the retired Imperial officer's friends decided to stop by in the least convenient moment thinkable, discovering his position on the roof. Hargeth's forced sudden movements had the rickety roof collapse, right onto his victim's head. Unfortunately, a roof support beam dropped on his own head, knocking him unconscious. Ironically, his target's heart had also been pierced by his own blade that had hung on the wall as a decoration. Hargeth had been arrested by the now dead officer's friend, Audens Avidius and thrown into that stinking hole he got to know so well.

Only one question remained, if the headache hadn't been because of a hangover but because of the roof support beam, where had that distinct woozy feeling come from? For a while, Hargeth sat with his head between his knees, thinking this over. They had interrogated him before they had thrown him in jail. Poisons, potions and liquors had unwillingly been poured down his throat in order to get him to talk. Ofcourse, if one doesn't know anything, there isn't much to talk about. Vaguely he remembered his interrogators in frustration about the lack on information they got from him.

A sardonic smile curled his lips. 'No wonder he hates me,' he murmered, 'and the bottleneck I stuck in his side probably didn't improve our relationship either.'
Hargeth grinned humourless. For once in his life he knew what to do. But decided that before he'd accept he would want some more answers. There were things he hadn't been told; Rhialla and Pilatus were hiding something.

'What kinda name is Pilatus for a Khajiit anyway?'

Really good writing and plot if not good spelling and word choice. It's a good story and good alternative to the game opening.keep it up, I want to read the next chapter

Thanks for the kind reply! I appreciate it. Input/suggestions are very welcome.

edit: I added a small part at the end of this because I consider it of significance to the story


Gasping for breath, the muddy messenger stood in front of Avidius' desk. Shortly before, the messenger had come racing into the Imperial office to report to the Captain. The officer's desk in front of him was cluttered with snippets, empty bottles, wanted posters and battle-plans. The messenger didn't dare taking a closer look at the interesting documents lying on the sturdy looking desk. Avidius had a notoriously bad temper and would, for no apparent reason, beat his submissives. And a messenger was as low as the Imperial legion hierarchy would go.

Upon the news the messenger brought, Avidius flew out of the chair he had been sitting in comfortably with his legs on the desk. With a crash the heavy chair hit the stone floor. The balding, fat legionnaire rubbed his eyes; he had been sleeping on the job, probably drunk. The messenger didn't understand such behaviour was tolorated in the legion. The Captain must have friends on high
places.

'What?! They're both dead?' Avidius screamed.

The messenger nodded, 'Yes Sir. According to the forester they have been ambushed by at least two, maybe even more. I think he mentioned the mercenaries you hired,' Avidius gave the messenger a threatening look from beneath his brow upon this remark, 'I mean, the loyal legionaires,' the messenger corrected himself, rumours were the whole situation of the mercenaries he had sent after the escaped Altmer prisoner almost three weeks ago was rather painful for the Legion Captain, 'were executed very professionally. It was very unlikely bandits were responsible. That was all he instructed me to relay to you Sir.'

'You are dismissed,' without looking at the messenger in front of him he waved him away. The messenger saluted, spun around on the heels of his leather boots and marched out the office, the spurs ringing in the rhythm of his march towards the outside.

Only after the door had been shut, Avidius real dismay about the situation surfaced. He swore and cursed and drank heavily, while pacing though his office and looking at the rapport the messenger had brought over and over, until his throat was sore and his mind clouded with liquor. With a sigh he sat himself down after putting the chair back and drank some more until he passed out. His last thought was suprisingly coherent. 'How will I explain this to him?'

Pilatus frowned after Hargeth had told him he remembered his proceedings before he had ended up in jail and how his memories had suddenly surfaced and stared into the campfire for a while. 'You should discuss this with Rhialla, it could be of importance. I am not much of a mage but this whole thing has the stink of magic on it.' When Hargeth thought about this and he couldn't do otherwise but concur with Pilatus' assessment. He decided to follow his advice and consult Rhialla about this when he return from the errand she had to run.

The Khajiiti siblings had been keeping Hargeth in the dark about her mission. It didn't really bother him but he decided to ask her about that as well as soon as he got the chance anyway. For now he resided in getting answers from Pilatus. Something irked Hargeth about the Khajiit warrior. Some things seemed out of place. The Altmer assasin had decided Pilatus must be something more than just being renowned because of his sister.
Instead of contemplating on it he just asked bluntly:'Who are you?'

Those three words held all the questions Hargeth had for Pilatus. '

I am no expert but Pilatus isn't a Khajiit name, is it?'

Pilatus face turned sad, the corners of his mouth dropped and he slowly shook his head. 'You're right, it's not.' Pilatus sighed and continued. 'What do you know about Morrowind and the legend of the Neravarine?' Hargeth made a dismissive gesture with his hands. 'From hearsay only. Some rumours about some outlander being Lord Neravar reincarnated, whatever that's supposed to mean. But I've heard he's been missing for mon?' The realisation hit him like a tonne of bricks.
He gave his companion a piercing look; the truth was evident in the Khajiit's eyes.

'My name is Do'Sjiri,' Pilatus started, 'and I am the Lord Neraverine incarnate. Or, at least, so I've been told.'
The story Do'Sjiri told Hargeth both shocked and amazed him. He had always known Morrowind to be a strange place and its inhabitors even more strange.
He was surprised to hear Do'Sjiri had fled his so-called destiny and had fled Morrowind altogether after having defeated the sixth house and its charasmatic leader, Dagoth Ur.

I have been following this Fan-Fic and I think it is really good and has much potential to be a great story . Man I can't wait for the next chapter! Keep up the fantastic work :tops:!

Really? Wow, thanks!
Next chapter I will start pulling more characters into the plot.

The next installment, the plot thickens Hope you like what I've done.


Rhialla's errands, as her brother, Do'Sjiri had called them, didn't go as planned at all.
In truth, the female Khajiit had been visiting several shadowy characters still owing her some favours from when she was still the Arch-Mage's scribe.

Politics always was a somewhat dirty affair and sometimes needed an unconventional approach through unlikely individuals. She had befriended some of these individuals in the course of her employment. From the contacts she had visited until now, most had shied out of any promises they had made to her previously.

She didn't lie to herself; she had counted on most of them not keeping their word. A promise was easily made but far harder to keep, especially for the people in the difficult position they were in. Her contact in the Thieves' guild was reluctant to do her a small favour as well. She was actually disappointed by, what felt to her as betrayel from their side. It appeared to her there wasn't honour among thieves after all. Out of all people she had hoped, no, counted on it for them to keep their promise. They had never let her down before. Anyone knowing her well enough would have identified all the little details changing in her face, the small twitching of her ears and her thin lips curling into a sardonic, humourless grin, indicating her mood-change. Her conversation partner knew her well enough.

'Can't you see we're all into this together?' Her usually gentle throaty voice sharpened with disbelieve and sheer frustration. 'If the remnants of the council falls apart, the entire empire falls into disarray. Or at least, what's left of it,' she added ruefully. 'And, with it, all the indulges the reigning council allows your guild as well.' Rhialla emphasized her rant by pointing at his chest. 'Make no mistake; they have been lenient with the guild. Should the empire plummet into civil war you can count on getting involved, whether you like it or not. I suggest you consider this and consider it well, Armand.'

It wasn't a threat to him personally but his face reflected his emotions. The Thieves' Guild doyen didn't like these possibilities. Not one bit. A frown appeared on his brow when he quickly thought about all the consequences and then realised his guild-master and personal friend, the Gray Fox, was politically involved enough to accept this threat as it appeared, an enemy to all. Amongst them, the ones inhabiting his beloved Imperial City waterfront. The poor and the rejected.

He knew deep-down Rhialla was right and the guild should assist where it can. Civil war would destroy the empire and affect everyone living and prospering in it. 'Allright, I'll make the necessary arrangements to get your friend's bounty paid off.' He cleverly dodged using the wanted man's name. You can never be sure no one is listening in who shouldn't, even though their meeting and the consequent conversation was highly covert.
Even his closest trustees weren't aware of it, thus limiting risk of exposure.

He knew from experience hungry people tend to be easier to persuade selling 'I doubt that will keep Audens of his hide. And yours for that matter.'

She nodded in reply. 'He's slightly psychotic, isn't he?' The harsh tone in her voice had been replaced with her usual tone.

Armand grinned slyly. He knew all too well about the Captain's behavioural flaws.
'At least we'll be able to move around in other towns without drawing too much attention to ourselves by the local guards, which will be nice for a change. If only for a while,' she paused briefly to let out a hearty sigh. 'Let me know when you've managed to bribe enough Legion captains and guards. I am sure you'll find a way getting the message through once you did.'

'Haven't I always?'

'That you have old friend, that you have.' An ear-to-ear smile revealed her spotless, white teeth with the impressive Khajiit canines flashing. Then a thought came to her, as sudden and unexpected as lightning from a clear blue sky. 'Hargeth can't go to the waterfront, the Legion would apprehand him on sight, or worse, execute him.' Her sudden doubt must have been visible on her face. Armand was ahead of her as if he had read her mind. 'Y'know, your Elven friend can't make his way here, you realise that, don't you? Maybe we can meet somewhere halfway. And don't worry, no one is going to follow me,' Armand said with a sly grin.

'That's not a bad idea actually,' she replied. 'Say, in six days from now? You know the Ayleid ruin north from the prisoncompound, across Lake Rumare on the small peninsula?' The Redguard, across the table where they where sitting at, thought about that for a few moments, 'I think I know which ruin you mean. We'll be there.'

Firstly: your text should be broken up. Your paragraphs are way too long and you should divide them with an empty line. Doing this gives your reader a chance to rest for a moment, taking in the information.

OK, I'm not going to go through all the typing errors. I can see you have some problems with punctuation marks. Try using spelling programs or read up on some grammar. You also reduce errors with practice as long as you making an effort.

You use the word 'guard' too much. There are other words for it. Also, the mentioned guard changes the way of his speech quite abruptly. It makes your story look very improvised, as if you were making things up as you went along. I also use improvisation when it comes to detail but afterwards I go through the whole chapter at least six times to avoid any paradox. Unless I want it to be there.

"Not again?.. by the Nine, how am I getting myself out of here this time?"
He braced for the inevitable steel gauntlet in the face and the steel boot in the guts, kind of treatment. "That's another similarity between a lot of jails," Gareth grimly thought.
...
For the first time in his life he knew what it was like being a victim.

There's kind of a contradiction here, don't you think?

Also, your names are a bit confused here: Hargeth - Gareth. Which one is it? And neither name seem an Altmer name to me.

The jailor's display of violence is way too severe. A beating like that, not to mention on a regular basis, would kill most people.
The whole steel boot and gauntlet thing is over the top. I also doubt a jailor would wear a suit of heavy armor while on duty.

Hargeth is a member of Dark Brotherhood? Seems strange for one of them to be a drunk, but that's just my way of looking at the DB.

Having one chapter stretched on more than one post doesn't help. The whole point of chapters is to give the story some order, making it an easier read. I read only one chapter and I'm exhausted, simply because of the way your text is placed.

The second post has a long line of ---. It's what caused it to be stretched out of proportion, making a reader use his mouse constantly. Not a good way to attract readers.

If you want me to read on, make sure the text is more appealing to the eye. You can't expect people to want to read it if it looks this way.

Thanks for reading and commenting. I appreciate it.


I've never seen that happening in a book.

I think you're exxagarating, there aren't THAT much errors in it anymore.


Iagree, haven't come up with a better word yet. Maybe you got a better idea?


Drunk/hungover/insane/mental instabile people do that. Changing mood in instant isn't unusual for people under influence.

I don't see what you mean. Usually he was the one killing/victimizing people. And now he's the one being victimized. Where is that contradictory? This guard is exceptionally cruel to the maincharacter.


I noticed the Gareth/Hargeth thing. Happened once, changed it. And so what if it isn't an Altmer name. Maybe it's not even his real name (Ofcourse I do know but I won't spoil it yet). Story isn't finished by a long shot. Actually, I just started.


Maybe. Don't forget, there is some time between the beatings. This particular guard sees it a way to intimidate his prisoners, that's why he keeps it on. He's a sadistic basterd, what better way to inflict pain than with a heavy armour?

No, he isn't. And because he likes a drink, doesn't necessarily mean he's a drunk/alcoholic. Imo, the chapters get better and better. It's my 1st ever effort, I learn with every chapter I write.

Hmm, I'll look into it.


Imo, text should be appealing because of what's in it, not because it is spaced out like all sentences are loose parts of the story. I can't do it like that. Like I said, I am writing it like it would be a full-scale novel.

I just want to say keep up the good work I personally dont mind the few errors the story more than makes up for it
stick with it

Very very well done with the plot! I don't mind spelling errors and such, I write i get errors sometimes too.

But A suggestion If I may, To make the story easier to read for some people, since you can't really tab on this forum it ends up going to the left again anyways use (---) to tab it out looks a bit strange to have the lines but atleast it makes it easier to read, I personally don't have a problem, but there are people who do get locked up eyes when they try to read that.

Keep up the good work, :foodndrink:


~Sparda~

That's not a bad idea, I can do that. Now you mention it, I think Feist does it like that as well.

I conceeded, I broke up the text as requested and used a spellingcheck to filter out more typos/spelling&grammar errors. I also started with a new chapter. It's just a beginning and will probably be changed but I thought it weas good enough to post. Enjoy:

Chapter8:

During Rhialla's absence, Do'Sjiri had started teaching Hargeth what he knew about combat and any other convenient skills related to their job that was ahead of them. Many days they spent training physical skills, long runs through the forest was almost a daily returning ritual and combat skills. Although he understood it was necessary, Hargeth preferred to refer to their runs as chores, he hated doing them. But he wouldn't show how much he detested it to the cat running next to him. It was probably because of the fact it seemed practically effortless for Do'Sjiri while he was panting and sweating heavily himself. More often than not, his sweat ran from his brow into his eyes, causing him to rub his eyes so they would hurt even more.

After their run they would go to their improvised shooting range to practice bow and knife-throwing skills for a large part of the morning. After that they would quickly refresh themselves and continue with practicing swordplay. Do'Sjiri showed him moves and ways to dodge attacks he would have never thought possible.

And just when he was about to drop his sword in exhaustion, Do'Sjiri would quicken up the pace of his attacks, forcing Hargeth to keep defending himself to prevent injury that would require Rhialla.

'I can't go on,' he thought while lifting his sword once more to block one of Do'Sjiri's thrusts. His right arm and shoulder was burning and his throat was dry. With a dry clang the longswords met mid-air. The sheer force of the blow sent a shudder through his body. 'Please, stop,' he begged. 'If we continue, it won't take long for me to make a mistake and you will to find another dumb bastard to do the job.'

Do'Sjiri nodded, 'You're right, time to cool down,' the feline said while lowering the sword. Hargeth let out a sigh while he just let the sword drop on the sun dried ground. For the time of the year, the last few days had been exceptionally warm. No rain had quenched the earth for days, early spring flowers had already started to whither, leafs on trees and shrubs were brown instead of green. Dust was dancing to the song of the wind and the men's feet. All in all, it was a strange spring and not just because of the weather.

Exhausted and panting heavily, Hargeth wiped the sweat of his brow, leaving dirty trails all over his face from the mix of dust and sweat on his arms. Amused, Do'Sjiri watched him trying to get the dirt from his face, only making it worse.

It didn't take the Elf long to realise his efforts were futile and headed to the small pond in the vicinity of their campsite to clean himself up from the sweat and dirt.
Even though the heat had whithered most of the natural beauty, the vegetation around the pond was still breath-taking. A small waterfall poured crystal clear water from the highlands into the pond, keeping it relatively cool and thriving with a large variety of fish and other aquatic life forms. The waterfall threw up a wet mist; colourful flowers and flowering plants in the direct surrounding were provided with plenty of water, it was like an oasis in the middle of the desert.

The beauty of it was wasted on the exhausted and dirty Elf. Uncaring he waltzed right through a multi-coloured flowerbed, trampling several fragile flowers in his path. The coolness of the water made his skin horripilate. He shivered for a moment; the temperature of the water was in contrast to the heat of the air above it.
Grinning boyishly, he undressed quickly and ran into the pond until the water was too deep to run and plunged himself in with a big splash, disturbing the Lillies floating on the surface. Several frogs croaked insulted and dove off from the Lillypetals they had been sitting on.

He had never enjoyed bathing but the weeks outside had changed him. He started appreciating the fresh air and the lack of confinement of the cities. Even swimming pleased him. He couldn't but conclude that he hadn't been as happy and healthy as he was now than ever before in his life. The introspection made him smile.

For a while he swam around until his skin was starting to wrinkle. Frowning, he had never seen that before, he left the pond and shook the water from his hair. Drying up was easy, by the time he had put his loincloth back on and had walked back to the camp most of the moisture on his skin had already evaporated.

'Now for some lunch,' he thought on the way back. The bath and the rest had stirred up his appetite and made his stomach rumble. 'I hope there's still something left,' he thought doubtful, remembering how little they had with them when they had made camp nearby the small cave Rhialla had suggested.

The empty table on the campsite proved his suspicion, what little they had, had either gotten wet in the rain a week ago, the rest of it had already been eaten. He would have to go hungry until they were able to gather new supplies.

Do'Sjiri was ahead of his thoughts; the feline was preparing to go hunting. Like last times, Hargeth decided to not accompany the expert hunter but would explore the nearby cave instead.
'Do we have something like a torch?' he asked the occupied Khajiit.
Do'Sjiri made a vague gesture towards the saddlebags they had taken. 'Should be a single torch in it somewhere,' he added to his gesture.

Hargeth couldn't remember finding a torch when they had first emptied the saddlebags to see what's in them but Do'Sjiri had been right, the second pair held a single torch. Conveniently, also a pair of fireflints was in the bags.
After gathering the items he would need for his little exploration-trip he put on the clothes Rhialla had given him, put on the boots borrowed to him by Do'Sjiri and buckled up one of the sword-sheaths. The silver blade came out of its sheath with a hiss. Checking the sword he found out it was still very sharp. A small burr had made a tiny cut in his left index finger. Annoyed he stuck it in his mouth and svcked of the drops of blood. Except for the negliable burr, the blade was flawless and well balanced. 'A first class weapon if I ever saw one,' he mumbled while re-sheathing it and headed North towards the cave.

The entrance had been harder to find than he had hoped. Vines were obscurring the door; Hargeth had almost missed it if it hadn't been for a barrel cover lying on the ground. Tearing away most of the vines and several spider-webs he found the barrel as well. A spoiled lettuce head and pair of carrots were on the bottom of it. He left the lettuce but took out the carrots and ate both of them before entering the cave.

The door wouldn't budge when he gave it a little push. The hinges were very rusty; it appeared the door hadn't been opened in months, if Rhialla was right, it was very likely to be abandoned, except for some critters that might sneak through the holes in the door. Ignoring stealth he kicked the door, the force of his entire weight behind the single blow shattered the entire rotten door, leaving only the hinges hanging. While thinking he hadn't really anticipated that, he lit his torch and entered the cave.


The entrance led to a narrow hallway with extinguished torches on the wall. When he tried to light them, they sputtered and soon died again. Shrugging he continued to work his way towards, from what he could tell, a larger room at the end of the corridor. He could see movement further down so decided to extinguish his torch, at least for a while and sneak towards the room unseen and if he was careful enough, unheard as well.

Arriving in the larger area, the movement he had seen turned out to be a rather large rat that lunged for him the moment he got close to it. Disgusted, yet thankful he had put on the boots, he swung his right leg towards the rat, hitting it mid-air, sending the now very discouraged rat a few yards through the air. Scared it scurried into a dark corner and disappeared. 'That'll teach ya, attacking much larger animals than you,' he grimaced. Except for the rat, some rocks, some wrecked crates and a pair of empty barrels the area was deserted. Disappointed he dug up the fireflints from his pocket, lit his torch and started making his way to what appeared another corridor in the back of the room.

A sudden draft coming from the corridor almost extinguished his torch, making the shadows dance on the walls eerily.

After, what he estimated were a few minutes, the corridor he had spotted forked into two passages. He decided to take the passage to the right; he'd be back to check on the one to the left when he was finished with the one he headed into. The trail was weaving from right to left, completely disorienting Hargeth.
Not that it mattered, until now, there had been no sidetracks, there was no way he could get lost.

It was a lot longer than he had thought; the temperature in the corridor had significantly dropped to the point he was getting cold. He could see his breath forming small clouds before and small condense puddles were formed in holes in the uneven path. When he laid his hand on one of the walls he could feel it wasn't natural. Someone, or something, the thought an animal big enough to be able to dig such a burrow made him shiver, had dug it. The walls were too equal, it felt artificial, assuring him it had been dug by someone and not by some hungry predator, waiting for its lunch to wander in.

The passage led on, clearly down and further into the mountain, as it was getting colder every few minutes. Suddenly, the passage just stopped, it led absolutely nowhere.
'Damn it, all for nothing. A bloody dead end!' he cursed angily.

Preparing to make his way back, he turned on his heels but slipped on the soggy, clay surface, dropping his torch in the process. With a sizzle it extinguished. In an effort to keep himself upright he grabbed around him, anything to prevent him falling into wed, cold mud beneath him. Fortunately, his right hand got hold of something, he couldn't tell what in the now pitch-black corridor. It felt like moss-covered wood. Slowly his support slid down, ending with a silent click.

'What the hell??' he exclaimed surprised A hole in the wall had opened; exposing what appeared to be a small chest. 'Hope it isn't trapped,' he whispered. He brought his hands towards the chest to pick it up but changed his mind in case it was trapped. He drew his sword and tried to pry the chest open with the tip of it. It was locked. 'I'll be damned before I leave it behind,' he commented while using his sword to lift the chest from the cravess in the wall.

He thanked The Nine it wasn't that heavy and put it on the ground to search for his torch. A few moments after he had found it he had lighted it and picked up the chest underneath his right arm. He resisted the urge to stop and open the chest and started to made his way back to the fork.


Getting back was a lot more tiresome. On the way down he hadn't really noticed how steep the decline had actually been. After several turns he was panting heavily. His thighs and calves were burning with the effort and his stomach was rumbling again as well. The carrots he ate earlier had helped, if only for a little, but now he felt famished again.
'
This better be worth it,' he said while looking down to the chest underneath his right arm and continued his struggle upwards. Luckily, the incliniation diminished the higher he got and just when he thought it was going to take forever he had reached the fork in the path again. 'Luch will have to wait, I wanna know what's down there,' he thought while putting down the chest. He preferred to have at least one hand free in case he'd encountered some sort of resistance.

'Gods, I hope I find something decent to eat, I could eat a horse.' The irony of his thought wasn't wasted on him, after all, there was a horse at their campsite and he couldn't help but snickering over it.

"He probably would have to improvise from there. There were just too many uncertainties to keep track of." That's not a very complex plan. Why did it take so long for him to form it?
You just told me you didn't want to make the effort to plan it ahead.

"Avidius leaned over Hargeth to see if maybe Hargeth was dead or unconscious."
He was just making noises a moment ago. How could he be dead?

"‘Now, if you want to stay alive, I suggest first you unbuckle your sword-sheath with your left hand,’ Hargeth hissed in Avidius’ right ear while keeping a strong hold of Avidius..." Your elf is basically attempting to reason with a severly drunk guard. In other words, a person with very little reason. I believe it is impossible to frighten someone that drunk, much less to trust him he will do the reasonable thing. Drunks are mostly violent and quite unreasonable. He would probably react with violence, not obedience, too drunk to realize someone is threatening his life.

"‘It’s not locked,’ Avidius replied, his voice trembling in anger.
‘I know’ That was bluff, ‘I said: open it, not unlock it, now, did I?’"
That was suppose to be a bluff? A bluff is usually used to deceive your opponent to gain an advantage based on the absence of information. What did he gain by it?

"Before Avidius could react, he quickly stabbed the broken bottleneck in Avidius’ side..." A lot of thinking before he actually did something. Doesn't sound like a very experienced assassin to me. If this was a story about a rooky, that might work. An assassin should do things instinctively. You don't have to describe everything he thinks.

"It was likely the distraction would slow possible persueers down..."
It was also very likely for guards outside to hear the shouting as well. Making a silent kill would be the wisest thing here and since your char is an assassin, he shouldn't have a problem killing someone he hates. I get the feeling you're trying to make him look too good in the eyes of the reader for him to be an able assassin.

"Carefully he chose a spot without too much inclination and jumped of the ledge..."
Quite suicidal for an experienced assassin.

"‘Where did these come from?’
...
‘Aah, that must be it.’"
Again, these words are not something you would expect from an experienced assassin.

"...he washed the sweat and all the dirt from his pale skin underneath."
Taking a calm bath while very likely being pursued by the guards?

"Swimming across was out of the question. Lake Rumare, surrounding the Capital of Cyrodiil, was renowned for being infested with Slaughterfish."
He just took a bath in that lake.

You're coming up with facts that undermine your previous text. You really should go through your text before you post it.

Somehow I doubt that a civilized culture such as Cyrodiil would leave a prisoner rotting in a cell with a dislocated shoulder. If they didn't bother with prisoner's health, the Blades would kill the PC the moment they entered his cell in the game's intro. He/she's just another scum. Kill him/her and save yourself the trouble of telling him to stand still and not to case trouble during the Emperor's escape.

All in all, I get the sense you post you text up here too early. You should take the time;go through it to correct the errors before you actually post it. I go through each chapter at least five times before I post it and I always read through it right after I post it so I can correct errors I haven't seen before.

You have a decent way of visualizing your events, although I get the feeling you improvise way too much. You could improve a lot if you just try to plan out your events before you write them. Doing the planning in between can be a bad choice.

I can see you take real effort with your story and it's nothing to be ashamed of if your sense of detail is not developed yet. It comes with time and practice so don't beat yourself up over it as long as you are working constructively on it.

Thank you for the huge anolysis. I'll deffo keep an eye out on the what you pointed out, although I don't agree with all of them, I see flaws I failed to see myself, even after having it read about 25 times. Trust me when I say I read it at least 10 times before I post it. Must be my inexperience.

I would just like to say, I never said he was an experienced assassin. He has flaws, sometimes acts irrational. Assassins are only human, not an evil superbeing that knows everything and does everything right. And I have a good reason he kept Avidius alive.

Took me a while but here is the remainder of the chapter I started.



With a final glimpse at the small chest, for unknown reason he found it hard to leave the chest behind but reason took the better of him and he took the fork to the left, leaving the small chest where he had put it down.

After a few turns he got to a strange looking door, not rotten and decayed as the one at the entrance but, strangely enough, in very good state. He frowned as he slowly brought his hand to touch it; it was emitting a faint glow and felt unnaturally warm.

'Now I really want to know what's behind it,' he mumbled and laid his hand on the door and tried to push it open. There was no handle so it was highly unlikely to open up the other way.
It wouldn't budge the slightest but that didn't keep him from trying several times before he admitted his defeat.

For a while he thought about what to do and then tried the same treatment he had given the door to the entrance. However, the door was either magically sealed or was barricaded from the other side because it wouldn't open, try as he might. With an annoyed growl he drew the silver sword and swung it at the door with all the strength he could muster from his fatigued body.
The weapon hit the door with a resounding clang, but it didn't even damage the door.

'Maybe I should've brought whatever's in the box I found,' he murmered while sheathing his sword and went retrieve his finding.

Shortly he returned with it underneath his arm and set it down in front of the door. Carefully he set to work trying to open the chest. Fist he once more tried to pry open the chest with his sword but failed. Closing his eyes in concentration he summoned a powerful spell to open the chest magically instead of with brute force.

He knew the spell would entirely drain him of magical energy but his curiosity prevailed over his self-preservation.
The chest reacted to his bidding and slowly flipped open without a sound. In it was an item, faintly resembling a key. It was dull, deep black. It didn't reflect any light and felt cold to touch. Ignoring the sudden sense of despair the key gave him he took the key-like item to the door in front of him but there was no keyhole.

'Oh great, a key, but no keyhole, just my rotten luck,' he rolled his eyes while turning around in defeat and threw, what now appeared useless and worthless, the black key over his shoulder.
A draft of fresh air blew out his torch. In amazement he turned around to see what had happened.
Dumbstruck he took a few steps into what was behind the door and picked up the key. 'Not quite as worthless as I thought,' Hargeth mumbled and put the key into his pocket and shuddered when the desparation returned.

Hidden behind the door was a large, dimly lighted room. A silvery glow, from rays of sunshine entering the room through many small holes high up in the walls, close to the ceiling, entered the majestic room; making it possible to see without a torch or magically enhanced vision. In awe he stood a while, taking in the beauty of the room.
White pillars, exquisedly decorated with unknown symbols, made the room look like a chapel. The pillars, made from a material he had never encountered before, reflected the light, bathing the entire room, even the corners, in a dim gloom. Several dusty statues, completely untouched by the past eras, were standing in the six corners of the diamond shaped room. All of them wore a crown of some sorts, made from a different material than the statues.

'That might be worth something,' he thought with a sparkle in his green eyes while putting down his sword and torch at the base of a statue and started to climb it.

Shortly after he held a crown in his hand and turned it over several times to have a good look at it. It was made from a strange material and had symbols on it, much like the ones on the white pillars and was surprisingly light.
As he gently wiped the dust from it, it started to shimmer with a faint glow. Underneath the dust there were even more symbols, slightly different from the other ones on the crown but they equally strange. With a shrug and a smug grin he put the crown on his head, as that was the most practical place to carry it and continued exploring the room.

For a moment he considered getting the other five crowns as well but decided against it, he wasn't the really greedy type and taking one was plenty for him, having only one head anyway. Besides, he would have to climb up onto the other statues as well; the risk just wasn't worth it to him.

Behind a magnificent throne in the center of the room, at least, he assumed it was a throne, was a chest. It appeared to be made of the same material as the strange door leading to the room he was in.
'I wonder,' he thought while rubbing his chin with his indexfinger and thumb. He took the key from his pocket and touched the chest with it. Without a sound the chest opened. Hargeth grinned as he saw what was in it. An expensive looking pendant was lying on a velvet pillow inside. For a moment he was tempted taking it out but then realised it was a magical chest so it might be protected in ways he couldn't see.

Instead he used his sword to carefully lift the pendant out of the chest. It had been an unnecessary precaution; nothing happened when he lifted it from its container.
With a huge grin he slid the pendant from his sword into his hand. The pendant had only one symbol on it and finally he recognised the symbols.
Although he couldn't read them, he knew for certain they were Ayleid.

Placing the pendant around his neck; he had found it, he might as well wear it, suddenly energy vividly coarsed through his veins, sparks jumped between his fingertips, for the first time in his life he felt what it was like to be really powerful. Instinctively; he didn't understand but somehow he knew exactly how to brandish his new found abilities, he channeled a blast of current through his body and cast it upwards, towards the ceiling.

Completely unexpected, it vanished into thin air as soon as it hit the ceiling. As he expected, a second blast had exactly the same result, none at all.

'I guess the creators protected themselves against their own power, I wonder why.'

He pondered over it for a while with a frown and then decided it was of no real consequence to him.

Starving yet satisfied with his findings he made his way back to the door, only to find it impossible to pass the strange portal. A vague shimmer in the doorway was blocking his passage back into the cave. Not sure what to do he sat down, with his legs crossed. Was it the taking of the artifacts that had activated whatever was keeping him from leaving or just his trespassing into the ancient room? If it was the latter, dropping the artifacts should grant him passage, he reasoned.
Reluctant to just leave the treasures behind he threw some dust he gathered from the floor through the passage to test his theory. Nothing happened, apparantly the barrier reacted on the artifacts.

'I'd hate leaving this behind,' he thought while caressing the pendant around his neck. 'Maybe it's just the crown,' a hopeful thought while taking off the crown and putting it on the floor. Once more he tried to pass the doorway but still it wouldn't let him through.

'Goddamnit,' he cursed while ripping the pendant from his neck and casting it into a corner. A feeling of a severe loss surged through him, as if a part of himself got torn out, the surge of magical energy had vanished as sudden as it had manifested itself within him. With a disappointed sigh he took a last look at the pendant on the ground, wondering why he already had been so attached to the pendant in the short time he had worn it, shook his head slowly and returned his attention to getting out of this place.

The sudden distinct lack of the shimmer in the portal gave him confidence he could now pass but decided to try one more thing to prevent having to leave empty-handed; he picked up the crown with his sword and kept a close eye on the portal. A smile curled his lips as he stepped through the doorway, twirling the crown around his sword.

It's already been over a month I posted the last update?
Any way, just to let you know, I am tying the knots of the plot together which is taking me quite some time. I haven't given up on this.

I hope someone is still interested in this fanfic. If so, do comment. :tops:

Chapter9

Ocato bowed his head in reverance. 'My Lord, all is going according to plan. Our pawn is still oblivious of your scheme and his past.'

'Can we be sure about that?' the voice replied booming through the Chancellor's private chamber, secured with earthly and arcane traps to prevent ease-dropping. No-one that wasn't supposed to would be able to get into his privatechamber or be able to easedrop on the conversation behind the magically sealed door without paying for it dearly.

Had Ocato been a normal person, rather than a powerful wizard, his ears would be bleeding by the sheer volume of the voice adressing him. Embarrassed he realised he wasn't absolutely sure and hoped that his doubt wasn't showing. His palms were dry, in spite of his temporary unease.

Confident his voice wouldn't break he replied:'Ofcourse, My Lord. We thoroughly wiped his memories about all the occurrences, the only mortal powerful enough to break through the mist of illusion we've cast on his memory is me.' The Altmer High-Chancellor and former Arch-Mage didn't mention their unknowing assassin had escaped before they were able to break his spirit completely. He blamed that fool Avidius. They still needed the assasin, even though he wasn't aware of the role he had already played in the current war.

'It better, Mortal!' And with that last sentence, dripping with hostility, the presence was gone.
Ocato shook his head,'What have I got myself into?' he mumbled,'If the Council finds out, they'll have my head. Or, at least, they'll die trying,' and grinned slyly.


Rhialla returned to the camp around noon, thirteen days after she set off to convince the guilds to assist the Empire in the struggle she was sure about would come.

Do'Sjiri was sharpening his huntingknife on a rock with a recently caught pair of rabbits laying next to him. No doubt he was sharpening the knife to gut and peal the animals. Shortly he raised his head and greeted his sister with a warm smile. 'All went well I presume?'

'Not as good as I had hoped, but good enough,' she replied and took a look around. 'Where's Hargeth?'

'Dunno, think he went to that cave you mentioned, I think he was bored.'

'Somehow, I doubt that,' she said with a smile. 'Knowing you, you kept him busy enough.'
A toothed grin was all she needed as confirmation. 'I'll go see if I can find him.'

'Did you bring some food?' Do'Sjiri asked. Rhialla threw him the bag with some bread, lettuce and tomatoes. 'Help yourself.'

An eery sensation was bothering her on the way. Something in the back of her mind was warning her something was wrong. A shimmer in the air, an evil presence, an intangiable sensation of fear and concern plagued her. Something she just couldn't put her finger on but she knew it was closeby.

Halfway the cave she encountered Hargeth, dirty, but smiling from ear to ear and some crown in his hand, one of the like she had never seen before. Even from a distance, she could feel power emitting from it. Something was either very wrong or very right with it. 'Where did you get that?' and pointed at the crown like it was a venomous serpent about to sink its fangs into her skin, her voice trembling in fear and wonder and her tail waving nervously.

'Found it in a hidden ancient room in the cave, due west.'

'West? The cave I mentioned is' she paused a while to orientate herself and get a hold of herself again, 'slightly east from here. I guess you found a hidden one because I am unaware of other caves in the vicinity. You mentioned a hidden ancient room?'

He told Rhialla about his little adventure in the cave, especially the part of the pendant and the crown caught her interest and was disappointed he hadn't brought the pendant, although she understood why. While he told his story she decided to visit this cave herself some day.

'Can I see that crown for a moment?'

'Sure.' Hargeth handed her the crown and added:'I think it's Ayleid.'

The moment Rhialla touched the crown, she knew he was right. When she carefully magically probed the artifact she found a dorment power deep within it but didn't dare unleashing it until she had more time to examine it more closely. 'Judging what you told me, I wouldn't advise you to wear it outside the room where you found it, it could react very differently outside,' she warned Hargeth. 'At least, don't put it on your head before I found out what it is exactly.'

'Sure,' he replied indifferently while shrugging. 'But it does look nice, doesn't it?'

'Let's get to the camp, we have a lot to discuss.'

When they returned to the camp they found Do'Sjiri next to a cooking pot, making a vegetable stew and the rabbits being roasted above a fire. The delicious aroma coming from it made Hargeth realise just how famished he was.

'Anything I can do until we can eat?'

'Yeah, you could go get some water.' Do'Sjiri gestured to a wooden bucket next to his tent without taking his eyes of the food he was preparing.

The Elf returned a few minutes later, the small pond was only a small distance from the camp but he still managed to spill a quarter of the bucket's content over the trousers he was wearing, leaving a short trail of water that got almost instantly absorbed by the bone-dry soil. Do'Sjiri was just scooping the stew, that looked more like soup, into three bowls and added a large chunk of rabbit meat and a piece of bread to the side on a plate underneath the bowl.

His stomach rumbled in anticipation. 'Do we have any wine left?'

The Khajiit burst out in a throaty laughter 'You and your wine!' and shook his head in amusemant. 'Maybe there is some left, kinda doubt it though.'

'I'll go see.' Quickly he checked the tents and bags for something to drink with their food and came walking back with a victorious expression on his face and a half-full bottle of wine in his hand. 'Now we can eat,' he emphasized "now", in his opinion it was unthinkable to have dinner and not having something to drink, preferably the rich, burgundy coloured liquid.


Today a cloaked character looked me up with a job.
Not sure I should take it, he's being too secretive, although that's not a rare occasion in my line of work.
My gut tells me this might be too high-profile. The proposition was ludicrous
He must be out of his mind.
On the other hand, 10000 Septims is enough for me to give up this profession.
I'll give it some thought.
Ocato's lips formed a smile that never got to his eyes while playing with the page from the diary he found amongst his pawn's belongings. Ofcourse he knew the conclusion. After all, he had been the one ordering the task of eliminating the Emperor's son and the murderer was totally oblivious to it. He and his associates had made sure of that. 'And to think that oaf believes he was imprisoned for murdering some insignificant Legion soldiers.'

Carefully he crumpled the page and then obliterated it with a powerful firespell. His desk charred slightly in the process and several documents, laying on his desk broke out in flames as well. Angered with his stupidity, he quickly pulled a very expensive robe from the chair next to his desk to extinguish the flames, utterly ruining it.

Hargeth woke up in a sweat and was shivering all over. His dreams had been most disturbing. Images of his past were blurred by images of death and blood to the point it had been impossible to tell where one started and the other ended, as if they were one and the same, yet different. The images felt significant, he knew them to be the truth, no matter how unnerving they were. Not that the images scared him, he was accustomed to blood, what was scaring him though, was the meaning of the images.
They appeared as his memories but they collided with other images he recognised as memories. He felt something warm underneath his right hand, in his sleep he had put his hand on the crown he had found in the mysterious cave.

He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. Slowly, more recollections from his dream seeped through into his consciousness. There had been a menacing voice. He couldn't remember what it had been saying, as if it had been a language he didn't know. Hargeth picked up the crown, immediately throwing it back on the ground in disgust.

'What is this thing,' he mumbled while looking at it. It was glowing eerily even though it was pitch black in the dead of night. Was this thing the origin of the disturbing images or were they part of something bigger? He didn't dare answer his own question. Instead, he wrapped the crown into a piece of clothing he had worn and laid himself down in an effort getting back to sleep.


Slightly edited because I wasn't quite happy with a part.

Curses, I was so hoping I could re-read the entire thing in one go through. Oh well, I'll just comment on the first post for now; I promise I'll be back as soon as I read the whole thing again.

Okay, so, the very first thing that I noticed, and the second, third, fourth, and so on, was grammar. I try not to be too picky, but when it stands out this much I can't help it. I won't bore you with the specifics, but you had some run on sentences, a few missing quotation marks, and for some reason you put all dialogue and thoughts in apostrophes (as opposed to just thoughts in apostrophes and dialogue in quotations) There were more things, but all I ask is that you go back and spell check, then edit it chapter by chapter. I promise it will help (PS of does not equal off)

Another thing, I'm pretty sure you are writing omniscient third person, but I still don't like how he seems to already know Valen Dreth's name. Same with the guard captain; I like how it kind of sounds like him saying it all, but the point of view almost feels like it is changing subtly throughout.

Next, your word choice threw me off every now and again. Sometimes I find your wording very good, but then there are a few things that irked me. It feels like you go into sharp focus of his time in prison, then less detail, all within the same paragraph. I don't mind a little generalization and summarizing since it is the intro, but perhaps a tiny bit more detail would be nice. The flow is kind of off, it feels like you are kind of skipping around, speeding up the story and then slowing it down again with more and more detail. This might be because of the large paragraphs, but try and take a look at it when you are editing.

I faintly recall the plot, but I usually don't comment on it for the intro, which is all I'm talking about right now.

Thanks for writing and, as always, keep it up :goodjob: I remember reading this a long time ago and liking it, but my view has become much more critical nowadays. Nonetheless, I think I still enjoy it, but I reserve judgment until I read about halfway.



EDIT: I re-read the second post just now, only to find the same problems throughout. The most striking is by far the word choice and flow; compare some of your sentences to a good novel. I found that a lot of what you said was not really needed, while you leave out important characterization and descriptions. Grammar is still an issue, and the length of paragraphs and sentences are a problem. Separate some sentences into smaller ones, maybe leave out some of the less needed info. It feels like reading a really short story with a lot of fluff; none of the characterization and description of a novel sized story. Thanks for writing though, and keep it up :goodjob:

Thanks Darkom!
I see what you mean. I agree that although I think I started out nice the later chapters (let's say from chapter 4 and up) improved a lot as I was starting to get the hang of it more. (at least that's what I think)
I'll try to explain a few small things:

1st: He doesn't just know Valen and Avidius' name. He spend at least 6 months in that particular cell so it makes sense to assume he picked up their names.

2nd: A thought is a dialogue in my opinion so I put them in between apostrophes as well. :shrug:

3rd: When I go into detail it's because I think that particular detail is fun to write about. If I would go into detail with every little thing it's going to take me 20 years to get it finished.
I don't doubt you are probably right but it's something I need to learn by doing it and getting a feel for how a story should flow and which parts need intricate details.
Thanks for pointing that out though. :goodjob: