Damn nice chapter.....Again

Thanks Derek!


*



The King And I

Chapter Twelve ? Concerning The Nature Of Espionage


Solon was freelancing.

It wasn't exactly in the contract, he knew. Morgiah had not explicitly asked him to go off and make inquiries she hadn't suggested. But he was in the mood for a little adventure, and he had a unique talent for getting people to talk ? the sleeping potion was only one of his methods, and a last-resort one at that. Those talents were the reason her Highness had hired him, after all.

And so, as he wound his way through the seething streets of Outer Almalexia, he headed for one of the most disreputable taverns he could think of. One that would be up to its rafters in Cammona Tong contacts.

He had to admit, his reasons were partly selfish. He had his own investigating to do; this business with Dren was weighing on his mind. He needed to know how exactly what the situation was, and how safe it would be to make himself known to any Cammona Tong high-ups at the moment. For all he knew, Dren had put a price on his head.

Above and around him, the towering mills of the Silk Quarter loomed over the cobbled-together buildings like admonishing masters over unfortunate pupils. There was always a crowd here. The main goods market was only two streets away, and with different stalls opening at different times, the trade was all-hours. With the constant press of people came taverns, brothels, skooma-dens and Guild hideouts. There was no better place if you liked anonymity.

The faded sign of the Grieving Kagouti loomed from under the eaves of a nearby house. Solon pulled his hood lower over his brow, and pushed open the door.

It was dark. A candle stood on each table, but this was obviously a place where bright light was discouraged. Clandestine midnight meetings don't lend themselves to clean lamplight. Solon slid along the bar onto a bench, ordered a glass of sujamma, and inspected the prospects of the room.

On the main line of the bar, the drinkers were loud and raucous. Three were genuinely blind drunk, but the fourth was faking ? Solon could see at once the tell-tale signs of over-slurring, the control of the mer's arms under the pretence of languor. He was obviously playing his companions for something. Certainly not the kind of situation Solon wanted to get involved in at present; he turned away from them. Various other groups of people were clustered around the dingy tables lining the walls. Most were deep in discussion, but one Dunmer woman sat slightly apart from the rest, and she was already eyeing him with interest.

He closed his eyes lazily, looking away ? and then back, glancing at her through the strands of his crimson hair with a look that could have floored an ice-queen.

The woman was hooked.

Like a fish on a line, he reeled her in mentally, and she stood ? this was the thing that always fascinated him the most; they always believed they were acting on their own initiative ? she stood, no doubt congratulating herself on her own show of careless confidence, and sashayed to the seat next to him.

"Ser, I do not have the pleasure?"

"Dram Saryoni," Solon purred, shaking her outstretched hand. She was a flirt, and he responded accordingly, lingering on the formal touch for slightly longer than necessary.

She noticed, of course, her lips parting a fraction in anticipation. "No relation to the Archcanon, I presume?" Her tone was throaty, teasing, pleasant to hear. He might have liked to talk with her freely, had the circumstances been different.

"Unfortunately not. I hear he's a soft touch for a destitute nephew, or great nephew, or perhaps great great nephew ? he's getting less good at hiding his age, no?"

The woman let out a flurry of laughter at this delightful [censored]iness, her waterfall of copper curls gleaming in the candlelight. She herself was flawlessly free from blemish, though he judged her a good deal older than him. Someone who liked vigour and youth, he surmised, and clung to it wherever they could. "Forgive me," she smiled. "I'm Felara Ules. Enchanted to meet you, Ser Saryoni."

"Dram, please," Solon insisted effortlessly, signing to the bartender to fill her glass. "And the enchantment is, of course, mine. Are you a visitor to Almalexia, or do you know it well?"

"Very well indeed." She sipped her drink, a sudden sharp flash of astuteness becoming visible in her eyes, taking Solon back a little. "In fact, I'm something of an expert. And what about yourself? How is it that I haven't had the pleasure of meeting you before? We don't get many new faces in this place."

Solon leant back against the bar, his simulation of lazy abandon perfect. "And why is that?" Hopefully, it would be because this was Cammona Tong turf, and he could start buttering her up for information.

"Because they don't last long if they're not part of the club," Felara purred, sounding suddenly rather predatory. Solon was impressed. She'd had a secondary motive for introducing herself after all ? getting rid of him if he wasn't a Tong sympathist. Considering her obvious attraction to him, this dedication to duty was rather admirable.

"Well, it pleases my gentlemanly instincts to relieve you of such unpleasantness. I'm club through and through," he assured with a winning smile. "In fact, I've only just arrived in town from the Ascadian Isles. Perhaps you can fill me in on the talk from the city?"

Felara relaxed, clearly satisfied. 'Ascadian Isles' was, for anyone in the know, a reference to Dren's plantation. "I'd be delighted. But it's so crowded in here? why don't we head out?"

Solon looked at her gleaming curls, her full lips, the spark of intelligence in her teasing gaze, and thought: why not? She was interesting, and Solon was always keen to explore an interesting personality.

He discarded his glass on the counter and angled his arm. She took it, and they stepped out into the night.


*


Morgiah was in her study again, quill in hand, the lamps lit to a creamy glow by Kippet the maid. She had been trying somewhat unsuccessfully to gather her notes on the investigation so far.

But her mind was stuck on her conversation with Helseth the previous evening.

When she'd seen his carriage approach from the window of her quarters, a sudden flash of nostalgia had gripped her. For a moment, she was plunged back into Wayrest, back into the only stable environment her extraordinary family had known, and the memory of the strange muted comradeship she and Helseth had shared. Without pausing to check herself, she had rushed to meet him.

The fantasy hit its first snag when she felt the waves of animosity rolling from him at her arrival. Whatever he had been doing, he clearly felt caught out. And then the invitation to dinner ? it had popped out before she could stop it. What had she been thinking?

Of course, he had refused. And the years of separation and distrust had broken through the charade, crashing down between them like an ironclad wall.

In the back of her mind had been a wild hope that perhaps if somehow, they could talk on their own as equals, he might confide in her whatever ill-advised scheme he was concocting and she could steer him away from it. He was her little brother. It was her job to mentor him, not to spy on him.

Ridiculous, of course. They were not children ay more, and this was not a game of jack-dice they were playing. It was a game of politics, of countries, of lives. Lives that could be lost.

She crushed down the spike of disappointment within her, and turned to her investigation notes.


*


In the Great Bazaar of Mournhold, Gwynabyth and Eadwyrd were spending some of their newfound wealth at the best Alchemist's in the city. With finally enough money to spend on some real extravagances for research into their tonic, they had taken to opportunity with both hands and run with it.

"I'm so sure that water is the missing link," Gwynabyth declared passionately, rummaging through the sheaf of notes in her satchel. "All our findings point that way? Fish, it has something to do with fish. Scales."

"There are a lot of different fish," Eadwyrd pointed out dryly. "How selective do you think we need to be?"

"Well, that's what we're here to find out." Gwynabyth managed to stuff the sheaf of parchment back into her satchel, and began to scour the shelves. "Any marine ingredients ? particularly ones that may have innate magical properties. Rejuvenation, protection, that kind of thing. That's why I mentioned scales ? they protect, don't they?"

"You can't seriously want to buy everything in this shop that has anything to do with the sea," Eadwyrd said a little disbelievingly as another customer clattered down the stairs. I mean, that's a bit- oh, sorry," he broke off, stepping back to let the customer through. "That's a bit extravagant, isn't it? We need to watch our money, even with the salary from this new job. We have to keep enough back to get home to High Rock on."

But Gwynabyth didn't answer him; she had paused, hand hovering over a bar of sload soap, staring open-mouthed at the customer who had just passed them by. Jolted out of his train of thought, Eadwyrd turned to look ? it was an Imperial, probably only a few years older than himself, dressed in armour. As he opened the door his eye caught Gwynneth's unabashed gaze; he preened outwardly for a moment, puffing his chest and giving her a flirtatious wink before striding outside.

Eadwyrd turned back to Gwynabyth, now flustered as well as confused. All right, the Imperial had been relatively handsome, but he had never known Gwynabyth to go moonstruck over adventurers before; she was far too clever for that. Muscles? what were muscles? He'd thought she'd be more interested in someone intelligent and gentle? scholars, maybe? or poets?

Gwynabyth was still staring at the door. "Did you-" she whispered ? "did you see what he-"

"Yes, I did," said Eadwyrd a little sulkily. "I don't see what's so-"

Gwynabyth came back to earth and saw his expression; she looked torn between amusemant and impatience. "Eadwyrd, you goose," she snorted. "He wasn't that handsome. I meant, did you see what he was wearing? His armour?"

"Oh," said Eadwyrd, slightly embarrassed. "I didn't notice? What was so special about his armour?"

The excitement was flooding back into Gwynabyth's eyes now. "Dreugh! It was dreugh-plate! Of course?"

"Their protective hides," Eadwyrd said, realisation dawning. "They have a sort of in-set healing charm?"

"And that passage in Baron Dwynnen's Alchemia!" Gwynabyth said breathlessly. "'The half in the sea'? we assumed he was talking about measurements, but it must have been a reference to the dreugh! Half man, half sea-creature. Dreugh-wax! And- oh, Eadwyrd, I think we've cracked it!"

Laughing in delight, she threw herself at him and he caught her up, swung her around ? her smiling face was so close to his ? he felt the familiar lurch in his stomach, that wave of helpless falling that had only gotten stronger over the years.

Oh, this is what it should be like! Not the quiet, tight-lipped, socially-refined relationship of his parents, not the poor doomed obsession of Lord Castellian to Queen Elysana ? it should be all playful banter, equality ? Gwynabyth's soft arms round his shoulders, her warm body so close, her chocolate eyes, soft hair, teasing laugh?

I'll tell her, he thought. I'll tell her very soon now.


*


In the dim lamplight of the rented room, Solon watched from the bed as Felara Ules brushed her hair. She was sitting at the little bureau, unashamedly and comfortably naked. Solon was liking her more and more as the night went on; the immediacy and passion with which she had made love to him, the articulacy and wittiness she employed in her speech, the graceful abandon with which she held her body. Her vibrancy was totally alien to him ? he, whose every intention was ulterior, whose every word was premeditated ? and he found himself irrepressibly drawn to a nature so opposite to his own.

"I'll be visiting the Ascadians myself in the next few days," she informed him, a continuation from their earlier conversation. "Can you give me the low-down? Dren shouldn't be back from Almalexia for a week or so yet, but I'd like to get myself integrated before he does."

Solon was momentarily surprised. Dren was here? Paranoia reared its ugly head, but he mastered it before it could show. Dren would have far more important things to visit Almalexia for than a runaway conquest.

"What exactly is he here for?" he asked as casually as possible. "He tends not to leave Vvardenfell much these days ? got pretty much everything he wants right there. Important business, is it?"

Felara looked over at him, a flash of mischief in her features. "You didn't hear it from me, of course, but he's been at the Palace. I bet he and Helseth are cosying up ? after all, our new Majesty doesn't seem nearly as shy of unconventional means as the old one, and who couldn't profit from a relationship with Dren?"

"Who indeed," murmured Solon. This was the stuff he wanted to know. He wondered how long he could keep her on the subject before it looked suspicious ? he decided to throw Manos' information into the mix and see what it turned up. "I wonder if he really is taking a greater interest in Almalexia ? after all, there's Tong in practically every part of the city now. Much more than even a year ago, if you ask me."

"True," Felara agreed. "He must have stacks of reports in that basemant of his at the plantation. Used to be so you could hardly get in the door; imagine what it's like now! I bet he has dirt on every noble in the city."

"Not to mention the Royal family," Solon pushed.

"Probably them more than anyone. I hear he's got swing on a few Palace servants." She laughed. "Wouldn't want to be them if they ever think about crossing him. Can you imagine it? Royals on one side, Cammona Tong on the other? Not for all the ebony in Caldera. "

"Hm," said Solon, an undercover agent employed by the Royal Princess to doublecross the Cammona Tong. "Certainly not."


*


Soon after dawn the next day, Morgiah once again assembled her players. The meeting was far less crowded this time round; only two of the seven recruits were present. Solon and Caius sat before Morgiah's mahogany desk, looking as comically mismatched as two people ever could.

The Princess flipped conscientiously through their respective reports. "I am most impressed with your work so far, Ser Gothren. Nenya's trust in you was not misplaced. I must admit, though, your news is disconcerting." She looked up and addressed Caius. "Sergeant Cosades, I will fill you in ? Ser Gothren has discovered a worrying of Cammona Tong control in the city. It seems that most of the major governmental bodies have been infiltrated, including the Palace."

Caius looked surprised. "That's out of character as far as I know, your Highness. Infiltrating the Palace? Sounds more like spy-work to me, and the Cammona Tong aren't spies." He hesitated, shooting a sideways glance at Solon. "Well? not all spies, anyway."

"Until this week, I would have agreed with you," Solon replied in his characteristic low tone, "but my recent information indicates otherwise. It seems they are not here of their own volition; rather, they were invited."

"Invited? What on earth do you mean?"

Morgiah tapped her quill against the inkwell. "Helseth has always had a talent for working with a province's existing organisations rather than against them. He sees them as a natural resource, if you will. There was a similar situation not long ago regarding the Dark Brotherhood."

Caius looked sour. Too late, Morgiah realised his closeness to Nenya meant he knew the exact nature of that particular 'situation'. It would not do to get her recruits all het up about her brother taking out an assassination writ on the Nerevarine.

"Which," she continued with a contrite glance, "I apologise for on behalf of his Majesty, of course."

Caius shrugged, still looking resentful. "Not your fault, your Highness."

"I apologise anyway. But to continue: this report is alarming. Ser Gothren, you said you have intelligence that Dren is keeping extensive records on the royal family in his Ascadian Isles estate?"

"It appears so, your Highness."

Morgiah thought for a moment, processing the information. This was unwelcome news. "Sergeant, I am intrigued by your findings also. These black-robed people seem to be popping up everywhere. Tel Fyr, you said?"

"Yes, strangely. The locals are getting jumpy. There's something not quite right about Tel Fyr these days."

Solon raised an eyebrow in amusemant. "Has Tel Fyr ever been 'quite right', I beg to ask?"

A smile twitched Morgiah's mouth. "True enough. Master Fyr is rather an eccentric. Do you have any idea of what he might be doing in there, Sergeant?"

Caius wrinkled his brow. "Curio got some information from a Hlaalu undercover contact in Sadrith Mora. It seems Ser Fyr has been ordering a lot of alchemical equipment to the tower in the last twelve months."

Morgiah's moment of humour evaporated. "Alchemy?" There were too many links with Helseth here for comfort. She didn't at all like the sound of her brother being in league with as powerful a sorcerer as Divyath Fyr. Fortunately, she herself was not without contacts in Sadrith Mora.

Now she had a choice before her. It seemed plain that Dren's mansion and Tel Fyr were both places that merited investigation, but which should she cover first? She was of a mind that these two recruits might benefit from taking this one together. It was obvious that one more assignment with Crassius Curio would push Caius over the edge, and she didn't fancy smoothing over a murder as well as everything else.

Of course, she could cover both by splitting them up and sending them to one estate each? but the mention of alchemy had put another thought in her mind.

"I am placing you together on this particular case," she finally announced. "I want you to go to Dren's estate. Get in there, and get rid of those records by any means necessary. We simply can't afford to have Dren sniffing around. Ser Gothren, use your Tong influence if need be; I know you have bargaining power in that area."

To her surprise, Solon did not look happy about this decision at all. She shrugged it off. If her instincts were correct, he and the sergeant would prove a good team, however oddly matched they might seem.

After the two had bowed and left, she took out a fresh sheet of parchment and addressed a letter to Gwynabyth and Eadwyrd. If alchemy was coming into play, then it was just as well she had two of the best alchemists in High Rock on her doorstep.


*
*

Well done as always. :foodndrink:

Great new chapter Rumpleteasza! It's quite an enjoyable read. ^_^

Ryu! Welcome ^_^ I'm really pleased you're enjoying it. And Beniamus, welcome back! Thank you so much for your comments, guys!

Since I'm at my family's for christmas and I don't have access to my own computer, I don't think I'll get a chance to update since the new year - but I do have new material lined up, so hopefully this story won't fall into the blue again! So until then, Merry Christmas all xxx Your continued support means more to me than I can tell you. Kisses to all of you! xxxxxxxxx

Two new chapters I hadn't read yet, very cool. As always, I'm liking it a lot

:hug:

Have a good Christmas and can't wait for your new chapters!

Well first of all, let me say how delighted I am to see this back. I remember posting a rather hopeful comment at Fanfiction.net early in the year, asking the Fanfiction Gods to see this continued. Looks like they listened after all

Three and a half years after I first started reading, and if possible, it's getting better than ever. It's like having an aerial view of a chessboard, and getting to see all the pieces slowly moving into position and trying to outwit each other, helped by the fact that the fascinating character's you've made seem to have almost gained a life of their own. It just shows how much you've improved as a writer in those years - interesting characters have become fascinating, quirky plot twists have become downright devious, and long term readers have become boderline obsessed

Can't think of much more I could ask of from a story. Looking forward to the next installment with something approaching glee now. Thank you Miss Teasza

Burnt Sierra.

Hey! I've been so caught up with work and writing music, i'd come on the forums to occasionally post, but i've never had time to catch up on my favorite reading piece. Well tonight was the night..and well, Rumple-dee-dumple, I really like how everything is being planned. From a writers perspective, I can tell that you have this perfect picture painted of Solon Gothren, and that you enjoy describing his character... ALOT (like the perfect man, kind of)...and I have to admit, as I was reading more about Solon and his woo'ing of the copper haired dunmer...i began to think to myself, whatever happened to Gwynabyth and Eadwyrd? But then you quickly answered that question! The hard part about writing for so many characters is that you have to give them their sunlight and thier watering time, so they can develop. It seems though, that they will play their parts in Tel Fyr during the next chapter/investigation.

So im all caught up now, im anticipating the next one, and don't be worried or have expectations of dissappointing me!
Always write for yourself and never for the audience. But i'm sure you know that already, hence why Nenya and Caius aren't already in bed together.

-Mike :hehe:

:hugs: Hope you had a good Christmas too!



Thanks Alex!



We've spoken over PM, of course, but I still want to say thank you again, both for this and your ff.net review. It means so much to me, and to have had your support and encouragement over the last five years (has it really been that long?!) has been so incredibly valuable. I can only add that I hope you enjoy what's to come!



Writing music - sounds great! Do we ever get to hear any of it? ^_^ Anyhow thank you so much for your comments - I'm really glad you enjoyed this! I know I've said it before, but character exploration really is my favourite thing, and it's always the characters that drive me to write. You mentioned in another post that you were inclined to draw what you were visualising - I guess if you have an artist's mind, you're bound to picture things vividly. It would be pretty interesting to see how different our interpretations were. I actually have most of the main characters drawn/made in Morrowind/made in Oblivion, and I've been holding back from posting pictures because I wanted people to form their own images. But maybe the time to post pictures is near?


*


The King And I

Chapter Thirteen ? Interlude Six; The Red Lady Plans A Deception


Castle Wayrest, High Rock, Hearthfire 3E399. It is 30 years before the present day. Morgiah is 23.


Breakfast at Wayrest Palace was being served.

It was Barenziah's wish, and therefore Eadwyre's command, that the Royals ? along with what select lucky courtiers held their present favour ? take as many meals together as could be arranged. She had the idea that it would promote familial affection. Morgiah thought that perhaps her mother was being a touch optimistic.

Beside her, Helseth's knife scraqed moodily over the gilt plate, skirting an untouched pastry. A shame, thought Morgiah absently; some poor kitchen underling had obviously slaved over this artwork of suet and icing, and there it was, unwanted and looking distinctly forlorn. Helseth had always been picky about his food.

Eadwyre was, as usual, far too effervescent for the earliness of the hour. He was speaking animatedly to Lord Castellian, a rather dashing Breton in his early twenties whose future looked set for military fame. The young Lord was obviously a good source of information on current affairs. At present, he was explaining the campaigns of the local knightly Orders.

"It's a fairly ambitious scheme, in fact," he was saying. "It is the first time, certainly in my career-"

"Which is not, my lad, without its deficiencies in years," Eadwyre interrupted with a wink.

Lord Castellian smiled indulgently at this good-natured jibe on his youth. "-which, as your Majesty rightly points out, is nevertheless in its early stages ? however, the older knights agree. It is highly unusual for two Orders to band together in this way. Particularly since Wayrest is a good forty leagues from the Dragontail Mountains; perhaps even more."

"Extraordinary. So, Arkay's lot have bitten off more than they can chew? Do they even know who they're fighting?"

"The Knights of the Rose received a plea from the Order of the Circle three days past," Castellian supplied, leaning back in his chair to allow a maid to pour tea. "They've uncovered some sort of unpleasantness. There have been rumours of a secret sect meeting in the mountains close to Ankhora ? some profane magical gathering, I believe. In any case, the citizens are getting jumpy. The Order want to pinpoint their hideout and make a rout; unfortunately, their numbers are rather too few for such a grand gesture."

"And so they thought they'd pull the Roses into it?" Eadwyre frowned. "I don't like that at all. We've got pirates buzzing around Balfiera like flies, and that damn Orcish 'politician' hammering my door down on the northern borders. Why this Gortwog character thinks he'll ever get Imperial approval for the annexation of Orsinium is a mystery to me. Can't Camoran sort this one out? It is Hammerfell, after all, and Sentinel's had its eye on the Dragontails for the last ten years."

"Unfortunately, your Majesty, this concerns Wayrest too. The Watch has been investigating various rumours of suspicious gatherings, and they tally not only with Ankhora's reports, but Sentinel's also. We think maybe they meet in smaller groups, but the main centre is in the Dragontails." He frowned. "King Camoran has refused to send in the cavalry. He's keeping his cards to his chest. If you ask me, he wants his troops right where they are in case King Lysandus snaps and sends the navy over. They're at daggers drawn."

Eadwyre sighed, like a wearied father chastising his miscreant children. "Like two toddlers arguing over sweets," he said in exasperation. "These land disputes are getting ridiculous. Mark my words; there'll be war within the year."

"And by Stendarr's grace, Wayrest will be well out of it when it does," said Castellian dryly. "Though I hope your estimate is inaccurate, your Majesty. It would hardly do for the Roses to be off chasing Necromancers in the Dragontails if Wayrest is on the brink of a naval clash."

Morgiah had been drifting; her sleep had been disturbed since she began her nocturnal truancy, and the conversation was not interesting enough to keep her attention. The word 'Necromancers', however, seemed to shortcut through her brain and set her nerves jangling like a firebell.

"Necromancers?" she inquired sharply, before she could stop herself. "You're ambushing a Necromantic sect?"

Castellian looked surprised by her input. "I do not rightly know, your Highness. The Order of the Circle did not name them as such, but if the sect are renegade magic practitioners, it's a reasonable assumption to make."

"But surely, there are any number of possibilities to fit such a description," she continued, her mind racing. Apart from the name Scourg Barrow, no-one at the King of Worms' meetings had dropped any clues as to where the place was located. Could it be?? "I understand that the Dragontails are rather renowned for harbouring undesirables ? vampire clans, for instance."

"True, your Highness," Castellian conceded. "There are several vampire clans that have been troublesome to the area. It seems a little overzealous for the Circle to be pitting themselves against such an adversary, however?"

"As I see it," Morgiah continued for him, a wild plan forming in her mind, "the followers of Arkay are inherently opposed to any unnatural perversion of what their god holds sacred ? the cycle of life and death. The existence of vampires is definitely what I would call an unnatural perversion. If they are planning an heroic coup, would they do it for anything less than a direst breach of Arkay's ideals?"

"Like raising the dead by Necromancy?" Helseth said with dripping sarcasm, joining the conversation at last.

She didn't rise. "Like vampirism."

"You have given me something to consider, by all means, your Highness," Castellian said courteously to Morgiah. "The group which the Circle have identified may well be vampiric. Have no fear, Princess; if rumours of these undesirables in the Dragontails have distressed you, I assure you that I and the Roses will see them taken care of."

"Your gallantry does you credit, Sir," Morgiah said rather stiffly, throwing a sideways glare at her brother, whose eyebrows were raised.

Elysana had been watching the exchange coolly, toying with the cup of pressed pear juice before her. As Morgiah watched incredulously, she arranged her features into a state of wide-eyed sweetness, addressing Castellian in a hushed, breathy tone. "Oh, your Lordship ? how horrid to be among such monsters! And how brave of you to risk your life to make sure the people of the Dragontails are safe! Do be careful, won't you? It would be so unbearable to have something happen to you."

Castellian looked taken aback and enormously touched; he smiled indulgently at the small girl. "Your young Highness' concern is the sweetest I have yet received. Worry not, little one ? I am more than a match for a vampire!" He turned to Eadwyre, who looked on in amusemant. "Your Majesty, your daughter is a delight. You must have her sit with us more often."

"Oh, Elysana is showing more interest in court by the day, my dear boy, you needn't worry about that!" Eadwyre's laughter boomed across the hall. "She'll be the darling of the Palace in no time at all ? as if she wasn't already!" He stroked his daughter's hair lovingly; Elysana smiled back up at him, the picture of serenity.

Morgiah almost snorted, through disbelief more than humour. As she glanced up at her brother, they shared one of those fleeting moments of companionship that had become so rare over the years. Helseth rolled his eyes. Morgiah suppressed a laugh.

Later though, in the sanctum of the library, the situation returned to her mind as she contemplated the seriousness of Castellian's campaign. What she needed to discover ? and quickly ? was if Scourg Barrow really was in the Dragontail Mountains, and if so, whether they were indeed the same 'renegade magic practitioners' the knights were targeting. She had to admit, with the Watch's report of suspicious night-time gatherings, the evidence was looking pretty conclusive.

If her deductions were correct, she would have to do some quick thinking to pave the way for doubt. It was not out of ignorance that she had brought up the subject of vampires. She had overheard several conversations in the King of Worms' Hall over the past few weeks concerning a particular clan that was creating trouble in the area. The Ary'thite, a relatively new clan with roots in a nearby town, was becoming more pervasive ? and with a bit of luck, they would make the perfect sacrificial lamb to deflect attention away from Scourg Barrow.

Now all she had to do was make sure the knights had unshakeable proof that their adversary was the Ary'thite, not Necromancers?

Wait, wait. I have to make sure? This was becoming ridiculous. Karethys was on the road to recovery; if Morgiah was lucky, she would have one, maybe two more dates to gatecrash Scourg Barrow. Her current total of four visits hardly engendered any obligation towards the Necromancers. Why on earth should she take such a risk? Why had she become so obsessed?

Of course, she reassured herself, there were plenty of ordinary, sensible reasons to deflect the attack. Now she'd found the King's secret hideout, she was reluctant to relinquish the information. There was no telling when a secret like that might be useful in the future. And in any case, there were far less Ary'thite vampires than there were Necromancers ? the battle would be won more easily, with less cost to the Wayrestians. Really, she'd be doing everyone a favour. Who could protest when bloodshed would be avoided? Lord Castellian might even end up owing his life to her.

She had the cloak and clasp. She could make use of them. She'd let the Watch follow her, and drop them a false trail.

By rights, she really ought to be feeling apprehensive. Unfortunately, all the idea of the danger did was excite her.


*


Morgiah slid along the brick wall of the alleyway between the two houses. The streetlamp shed a pool of light on the broad avenue before her, but for now she was shrouded in darkness. Two City Watch guards stood languidly by the ornamental fountain in the centre of the square.

She fingered the note in her pocket ? roughly scribbled, it contained a short message apparently addressed from one vampire to another, detailing both the violent intentions of their clan and the whereabouts of their hideout. The plan was simple; she would let the guards glimpse her, lead them on a dizzy chase away from the veranda-house, drop the note where they could see, and Recall before they could catch her. She had set a mark in her own study earlier that evening. Simple plan, simple repercussions.

She took a deep breath, and stepped out of the alleyway into the lamplight.

The guards turned to look, their expressions bored; of course, a cloaked figure was not necessarily suspicious as and in itself. But she had prepared the bait ? she started as if shocked and afraid, let out a low hiss, and turned to run.

The thing about policemen is that if you run, no matter what you've done, they will chase you.

They chased her.

She fled through the dark alley, Karethys' cloak flapping behind her. The guards were human and both had at least ten years on her; she was by far the fastest. But she kept in sight, leading them through twists and turns, ignoring their shouts but being careful not to let them lose her. Her heart was beating with exhilaration; this was so enjoyable! The rebellion from stuffy Palace life thrilled her.

She flitted round the corner of a tall, half-timbered house, hearing the Watch guards behind, wheezing now from exertion. One of them suddenly gave a shout. "Hey! Wickwing, Kingcroft! Chase on!"

The addition of pounding footsteps brought Morgiah up short; reinforcements. Time to leave. She dashed to the end of the alley, whirled around to see four figures charging towards her? dropped the note, and Recalled.

The walls of her study materialised around her, quiet and glowing in the light of the settling fire. She leant forward on the desk, panting, heart thumping.

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she felt the empty space in her pocket the note had occupied. Like a charm.


*
*

Wow... I mean- just... wow. It is impossible for me to decide what is most impressive about this brilliant novel- the sheer scope, the depth of characterization, the intricate plot weaving together Daggerfall and MW.... I feel good being able to write and keep track of ONE fully-developed character- you have created a living, breathing cast of hundreds (OK- slight exaggeration, but not much of one). As far as I am concerned, gamesas is missing a bet not signing you up to write this under their imprint....

I must admit, this made me smile, I just pictured this poor little pastry with a sad face and a tear on it, like one of those RSPCA adverts with the kittens.

After the disconnection between Helseth and Morgiah in previous chapters, it was nice to see them sharing a little eye rolling at Elysana's antics. After all their seperate scheming and plotting, it's nice to see them grounded in a shared moment that hints of what they might have been like years before. That's one of your greatest gifts by the way, your ability (of which I am very jealous) to bring characters to life with a subtle aside. You do it with no wasted words, no long-winded speeches - it's to the point and oh so effective.

There seemed to be a strong sense of sadness running through this. The forced shared breakfasts, the all too brief connection with her brother, the desire of excitement, the unexpected loyalty to the King of Worms...it's almost like she recognises that the bond with her own family is now in the past, and she's trying to subconciously recreate that lost connection with the Necromancers. My interpretation of her mindset might be wrong of course, but it had the effect that I really did feel quite moved whilst reading.

This is, without a shadow of a doubt, getting more and more powerful with each chapter. I feel like I've created an emotional bond with some of these characters myself. And like Trey said above, it's difficult enough to achieve that with one character. You do it with several, and you make it look so, so easy.

Thank you for continuing

I don't know what to say! You are, like, the godfather of TES fanfiction - whenever anyone recs fics or holds contests, your name always comes up as one of the best authors out there. So needless to say, this praise from you is very humbling. I hate just typing out something to the tune of "Hay, thanks " every time someone gives me thoughful comments like this, because I feel like I just can't express properly how amazing it feels to have people reading and enjoying what I write - but I don't know how else to say it. So sincerely, thank you!


You are so often spot on with your little anolyses, Sierra And thank you so much, yet again, for your incredibly kind words. It's probably because I'm such a huge Gormenghast fan that it's permeated my brain, but the Wayrest Royal Family have always been very strongly linked to the Groans in my mind. If you haven't read Gormenghast, I'm sorry, this is meaningless. But it really is a huge base inspiration for this entire fic. Although Morgiah is in many ways a cold, calculating individual - as is Helseth - I saw in her, especially in her younger years, a kind of force of emotive nature. That passion that by her advlthood is tamed and shaped into a practical force, is more warm and impulsive in her youth. There is a great deal of fierce love seething under the surface in this family - but it's just that: under the surface. There is always some kind of barrier there that stops it from breaking out. Essentially, they are a dysfunctional family.

I saw the bond between Morgiah and Helseth as something that is, at its base, frustration. In their very early years I imagined them as close, with only eachother, especially since the isolation of their royal birth would cut them off from other companionship. But as they grow older, the pressures of court life, possible crown rivalries, political tensions etc force a glass wall down between them. In a way they both yearn to return to the friendship of their youth, but understand that it is no longer possible, although sometimes a hint of companionship breaks through the facade - as it does here.

But by the time Morgiah has re-joined her family in Mournhold after her long exile in Summurset Isle, they are pretty much sundered forever. They have both grown into personalities that neither of them recognise any more, having been apart for so many years. Now the frustration is to do with trying to understand what they are each thinking and feeling - in Morgiah's case, the motive behind Helseth's disturbing plans, and in Helseth's case, exactly what Morgiah knows and why she is interfering in his life.

In that way, Morgiah seeking out the Necromancers is a lot to do with creating something in her life that SHE can shape and control. The frustration of her failing relationship with Helseth is softened by the excitement and triumph of her growing bond with the King of Worms. Instead of watching something slip through her fingers, she is taking it with both hands. I guess in that scenario, the King of Worms becomes a substitute for what she knows she will eventually lose in Helseth. That's the reason I called this thing "The King And I" - the 'king' could be either KoW or Helseth, or both, and the real heart of the story is not the murder mystery, but the relationships she has with the two male role models in her life.

OMG, what just happened!? I threw up an essay. Sorry Now I sound totally arrogant, anolysing my own story. But your comments got me thinking, and I realised all this had been in my head for a long time - I just put it into words. Anyway, it's not like they're my characters. Bethesda have a knack for creating characters with such amazing potential. The Wayrest royal family is like a gift to my lame little psychoanolysing heart

Yeah im just gonna ignore that little essay you just puked up. I liked the latest update. Like Burntsiera said, it was good to see that once Morgiah and Helseth did hold some common ground together.

Anyways, you were talking about illustration and your characters, or Bethesdas characters, or your version Bethesdas characters, or bethesda's version of your...okay ANYWAYS.

I did one of Gothren, since you lurvvv him so much. :hehe:

http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a328/Mikeandike1/Gothren.jpg...its a quick bust i drew out with a mouse but thats what I kinda see when you depict him.

I think it's something to do with being a humanities BA... it's like a disease :hehe:



:o Wow! That is so cool! I absolutely love your depiction. It's different from my screenshots, but that's part of why I like character creation so much - everyone has their own image. He looks awesome. That's a 'quick sketch'? You are really good. I love his intense expression; it looks almost ghostly.

Dear Ms Rumplestiltskin

OOps :blush: Rumpleteaza...

I have taken the trouble to read every chapter, and I must say I am not only impressed but simultaneously enthralled and intrigued. I intend to flatter you in the sincerest way - I am re-reading the whole thing from the beginning again, so as to absorb by both conscious design and subconscious osmosis the craft as well as the spirit of your writing. From an aspiring writer to one many steps further along the road, a salute and greetings!

Foxy

Oh the humanity(s)!




Glad you enjoyed it. I'm probably going to do Nenya if I have time. I'm not sure who I plan to do after that...

Thank you very much indeed for taking the trouble and wish you well with your osmosis! Thank you so much for reading Aspiring writer? Any chance of seeing some of your work? Edit: Found it!


:o Eagerly anticipated!

Not an update - I'm writing as much as ever, but I need to get a few chapters done in hand so I can see which bits of what plotline need to go where (damn my lack of planning) - but since the topic of illustration came up, I thought I'd share some of my own screenshots. I though about keeping them to myself until everyone's formed their own mental picture, but since Mike did that awesome picture of Solon, I thought it might be interesting to see how our images tallied.

So, here is Solon how he looked originally in Morrowind (along with all the other Astarsis Basic Replace faces that sparked the idea for this character) (plus bonus boyband hair! lol):
http://i156.photobucket.com/albums/t22/Rumple_teasza/Solon/SolonGothren2.jpg
http://i156.photobucket.com/albums/t22/Rumple_teasza/Solon/SolonGothren7.jpg
http://i156.photobucket.com/albums/t22/Rumple_teasza/Solon/SolonGothren5.jpg
http://i156.photobucket.com/albums/t22/Rumple_teasza/Solon/SolonGothren.jpg

And remade in Oblivion:
http://i156.photobucket.com/albums/t22/Rumple_teasza/Solon/Solon1.jpg
http://i156.photobucket.com/albums/t22/Rumple_teasza/Solon/Solon4.jpg
http://i156.photobucket.com/albums/t22/Rumple_teasza/Solon/Solon.jpg

... I just realised I need another hobby.

I just read a portion of this. Its superb. And writing and gaming are good hobbies

I actually just figured he was some sort of generic face, but you decided to build a story off his face. Guess not! I like the Oblivion one a bit more than the Morrowind one. http://i156.photobucket.com/albums/t22/Rumple_teasza/Solon/SolonGothren5.jpg

Uhh..so I told you i'd do Nenya next...i've also said her personality and my general vibe of her appearance is similar to Fable 2's Hammer, character. That being said, I can't draw human or flesh tones to save my life, so I basically usedhttp://community.lionhead.com/photos/fable2_photos/images/2816065/499x700.aspxof Hammer to develop Nenya.

http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a328/Mikeandike1/Nenya.jpg Its kinda rushed, i know..my bad. That left gauntlet is supposed to be wraithguard. And I believe you said she was wearing "demonic ebony" or something along the lines. I guess the main message I was trying to get across was that shes heavy set, but still looks attractive...in an odd way. Probably not how you pictured it, so ill try not to ruin your own imagery! I tried to pay as much detail as I could do the character, as i Know how much the character development of the Nerevarine is important to all of us. :hehe:

Thank you so much - glad you're enjoying it!


Ahaha yeah, boyband right? :hehe:


Mike... you are amazing! I absolutely love her! Again, it's different to what I'd imagined, but I think I actually like it more. The hammer is absolutely outrageous It's bigger than her! I love how you worked Wraithguard in there too. Honestly, I am getting such a kick out of these illustratios of yours.

For my part I'd pictured her a little too tall, and kind of giving the impression of being gangly despite the muscle-strength she needs to wear heavy armour and wield a massive warhammer. Facially, she's fairly plain but pleasantly open and cheerful. I whipped http://i156.photobucket.com/albums/t22/Rumple_teasza/Nenya/Nenya8.jpg up in Oblivion, but I'm not happy with it - she looks a bit too pretty. http://i156.photobucket.com/albums/t22/Rumple_teasza/Nenya/Nenya13.jpg is what she actually wore in-game in Morrowind, but again, it's a bit too feminine. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I like yours better

The King And I

Chapter Fourteen ? Of Old Places And Old Faces

On an imposing crag that jutted more than a hundred feet from the flanking mountain, two shapes stood silhouetted against the westering sun. The sky was boiling with clouds; bruise purple above, underlit by a pale orange flare. The journey here had been uneventful, surprisingly enough. The badlands between Northpoint Bay and the Wrothgarian Mountains were not as treacherous as they had once been.

Bomba 'Lurrina surveyed the entrance to Shedungent with careful precision, her crimson mane of hair whipping about her face. The wind was dry and stinging. It played around the massive locked gates of the fortress before her, revealing a faint luminescence that seemed to tinge the ironwork with sickly green.

"There has been sorcery here," she pronounced, eyeing the structure suspiciously. "A sealing spell has been placed on the doors, one far greater than my skill to break or bend. And yet? this does not feel like Nulfaga's magic. Her style was very different."

Nenya finished her circuit of the walls. "Can't see a thing," she said cheerfully. "You magic types must have eyes like hawks. Looks like an ordinary door to me."

"If we could find a way inside, I'm sure even you wouldn't miss it," Bomba said wryly. "Nulfaga lives more in Aetherius than Nirn these days, and magic has a habit of seeping through."

"Well, magic eyes I don't have, but tracker's eyes I do. There's not a crack in the stone all the way round; no way in. But people have been here." Nenya looked at Bomba 'Lurrina hopefully; the Khajiit had the impression of an exuberant puppy angling for approval.

"Well done," she said warmly, trying to sound encouraging. "Where, exactly?"

Nenya grinned and lead her further towards the doorway. "See here? The dirt is all scuffed up around this sally port. People have been coming and going from here fairly often. Is Nulfaga in the habit of taking trips in the real world, as well as on the metaphysical plane?"

Bomba frowned. "She used to leave the castle on rare occasions. I imagine those have become even scarcer in the last few years. Who, then, are her frequent visitors? There's something about this place?" She turned her nose to the wind, sniffing delicately. Her brow furrowed, and then it came to her: this dusty threshold had the same quality to the air as the abandoned dais of Vivec.

"There is a link between here and the High Fane Temple," she told her companion, voicing her thoughts. "Something about the two places remind me of each other. If only I could tell what it was!"

"Well, you said a window to Aetherius had been opened in the Palace," Nenya said reasonably. "If that's all Nulfaga's been doing in Shedungent since the turn of the century, it makes sense that there would be similarities."

"True, but something makes me think that we're only getting half the story. I think we should watch the gates for a while."

Nenya sighed, clumping towards a nearby patch of briars. "Another night of mud and wind? Just what I fancied, as it happens!"

Bomba 'Lurrina felt the beginnings of a smile; she took an affectionate swipe at the Nord. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I'll even give you my share of travel-biscuit."

"Oh, goody," said Nenya.


*


It had become extremely dark on Shedungent's craggy perch; the only illumination was the faint, oily hue of the locking-spell on the massive gateway.

Bomba 'Lurrina was on watch. Nenya had fallen asleep almost immediately, but even she couldn't snore her way through the whole night ? the wind had become more and more persistent, and she had finally woken up a few minutes ago. Bomba had to admit that her plan wasn't turning out to be a very comfortable one.

She shivered slightly, feeling her joints protest at the hard ground. "Getting old," she muttered.

Nenya looked concerned; she took off her blanket and draqed it round the Khajiit with surprising tenderness. "Better? Us Nords are used to cold and wind."

"Oh, no," Bomba protested, trying to push the blanket away. "Treat me like a crone, will you? I've had worse than a night in the wild!"

"Don't be an ass," Nenya said readily, thrusting it back. "It's no-"

"Look," hissed Bomba suddenly, ceasing the blanket-battle and focusing on dusty track leading past their hiding place.

A solitary figure was winding its way up the crag's jagged edges, pausing now and then to shift the package over its shoulder. It wore a black robe, plain and nondescript, obscuring the majority of the face.

As the figure approached the main doors, the glowing residue from the binding-spell flickered slightly, bowing out around the sally port. At a muttered word from the dark stranger, the small entryway creaked open, closing swiftly as soon as the speaker stepped inside.

Immediately Bomba 'Lurrina was on her feet, aches and pains forgotten, slipping like a shadow to the doors. Nenya rather sensibly decided not to follow, aware that stealth is best left to the professionals. She waited instead while the barely-visible shape of her companion scoured the entryway, inclining her expressive tapering ears to the crack in the doors in the hope of something worth overhearing.

After a few minutes, she returned, shaking her head.

"I heard voices," she whispered. "Indistinct, but there are definitely more people in there. And there was something else? something wailing. Like a child, but the voice was old." She looked troubled. "I fear that Nulfaga may be trapped in this here. Whoever these black-robed people are, their reappearance is not a coincidence. Morgiah has already had reports of them in both Mournhold and Vivec."

"I'd bet a whole flagon of Winterhold's best they were in the High Fane the night Vivec went missing," Nenya said.

"I wouldn't bet against you, either," Bomba said grimly, beginning to gather their belongings. "It's all beginning to tie up together, isn't it? It's just as well we made this journey. Nulfaga's vulnerability has always weighed on my mind, but if these people are manipulating her?" she shook her head. "It's serious. Nulfaga is unstable, and her magic is deep and old. Aetherius is nothing to trifle with. I shudder to think of her knowledge falling into the wrong hands."

"Something really big is happening, isn't it?" Nenya said, her characteristic geniality suddenly absent, making Bomba 'Lurrina feel strangely cold. "This is too well-organised."

"Yes. It all smacks of a long-term, well-laid plan. And that makes me wonder exactly what is at stake here." She finished bundling up her belongings, slinging them neatly onto her back. "We need to get back on the road. I'm more keen than ever to talk to Gortwog. His spies throughout the nation could rival even Barenziah's assembled ranks."

Nenya followed suit, heaving her own pack into place as the pair disappeared into darkness.


*


A lot of things go on at Tel Fyr these days.

The current inhabitants, the black-robed Abandoned Dreamers and Sixth House Cultists, are not idle. Red Mountain may be the heart of the operation, but Tel Fyr, is, shall we say? the administrative centre.

The Corprusarium is deserted now, cleared of its unfortunate inhabitants. The cultists prefer not to venture down there; though Corprus is not transferred via atmosphere and there is little danger of contamination in the relics of the Patients' former home, they avoid it nonetheless. They are superstitious, and though they have mercilessly put Fyr's diseased collection to work in the Facility Cavern, the sickness itself is still recognised as the work of the Divine. The Corprusarium is treated with wary respect, like some kind of shrine or sanctum, somewhere mortal feet are reluctant to tread.

The real activity goes on in the upper towers, in what used to be Fyr's laboratory.

There are few alchemists among the Dreamers, and their treatment of the Elixir Fyr was developing is hesitant. His notes are complicated, and to the untrained eye, undecipherable. Through rumour, the Dreamers know the basics of the project; they know Fyr had previously created a cure for one already inflicted with Corprus? but this was different. This concoction was intended to actually infect a drinker with the diease ? or rather, all the good traits, but none of the bad.

One of their number had taken the Elixir two months ago, directly before Fyr's 'disappearance'. He had since risen to a position of command ? a Master, as it were. It was only natural, he reasoned to himself. He had superior qualities now. He was strong and fast. He was immune to age and disease.

He was reluctant to allow any of his fellows the same liberty. It was dangerous, he argued. They did not know what other effects the Elixir might produce. Better that he be a test subject, and if all was well in a month, they could share the formula out.

Perhaps in a month, he would be even stronger. He could be Helseth's right-hand man, and as for the others? well, their place was in servitude. He would never abandon his brothers completely, of course, but he had the Divine in him now. It was natural that he should be of a higher order. This blessing could not be cobbled out to all and sundry.

He thought of King Helseth, and the plan they had formed together that was now growing to fruition.

Perhaps by its completion, he would be right-hand man not to a king, but to an emperor.


*


The trail to Orsinium had changed beyond recognition in the years since the Warp.

Since the annexation of the state and the Emperor's acknowledgement of Gortwog's sovereignty, the Orcs had wasted no time in the restoration of their new home. Orsinium's territory had spread to include much of the Wrothgarian Mountains, and the increase in wealth from the encompassed farms and smallholdings was evident. Nenya and Bomba 'Lurrina had been travelling on a wide, well-paved road for some time now.

The land was tamed and the road even grander as they closed the gap to Orsinium's gates. It was late and dark, but they could see the winking points of light that marked the beginning of street-lamps on the last stretch before the city wall.

In fact, Bomba 'Lurrina was so distracted by the obvious wealth and care of the landscape that she was lulled into a false sense of security, and therefore wasn't prepared when a pack of goblins leapt out from the verge, utterly without warning.

A raiding party! It seemed Orsinium was not so safe after all. Her muscles suddenly flaring into action, she sprang backwards, hoping to shock them? but they were too quick, and had the advantage of numbers as well as surprise.

The Khajiit let out a cry as a gaggle of shapes swarmed over her, barely managing to pitch herself to the left to avoid a dirty blade aimed at her throat. Fumbling for her katana, she scrambled towards the verge, hampered by her clumsy pack ? she swung round, taking a deep breath to scream a warning to Nenya ?

? who wasn't following her as she had been a moment ago. Somehow, she had already got behind the pack, and was lowering the ebony helmet over her eyes?

The dwemer warhammer sang out like a shooting star. The first goblin tumbled fifteen yards down the road, skull crushed like an egg.

Bomba 'Lurrina gazed, paralysed with shock, as this towering inferno of Indoril and ebony that had only a moment ago been Nenya laid waste to the pack. In five minutes, the devastation was total. Not a single goblin was left alive.

The thing that had been Nenya lowered her massive blood-spattered hammer slowly, her arm poised like a dancer's, so appallingly unlike the Nord Bomba had come to know that her breath choked in her throat. She took a step forward, strength and grace in her every move ?

? and removed the helmet. Scruffy pigtails fell out around her face; a face that was, blissfully, Nenya. A little tired-looking, perhaps, but with the same expression of good-naturedness she always had.

She wiped the hammer clumsily on the grass and strapped it back onto its harness, her movements showing their usual ungainliness. Clumping over to where Bomba lay, she reached down a hand. "Are you ok? Hoarfather's Beard, I thought you were a goner when they swarmed you. I didn't expect anything like that so close to the city."

Bomba submitted to being helped to her feet, still too shocked to form a proper sentence. She had always wondered how this cheerful, amiable blonde creature could possibly be the kind of war-leader the Dunmer hailed as their Nerevarine. Now she had some idea.

"That," she said, pointing towards the ebony helmet as if it were a dangerous animal. "What in the name of the Moons is that thing?"

Nenya looked uneasy. "I got it in one of the Sixth House bases a few years ago. My old one was in terrible shape, and I thought, why waste it? I'm good with heavy armour. It seemed to help a lot with clearing out Red Mountain. I mean, I'm a good fighter, but I'm not invincible."

Bomba massaged her temples, feeling as if she was finally understanding some of the things that had bothered her since her meeting with Nenya a month ago. "Nenya, do you know anything about magic? Didn't you suspect that something might be amiss?"

"Contrary to popular belief, I am not an idiot," Nenya said smoothly, for one moment looking more like the apparition that had laid waste to the goblins. "Of course I realised it must be magical. I also knew that while I was doing a pretty good job as the Nerevarine, I needed all the help I could get. The helmet isn't as bad as you think it is ? at least not magically. There were other things I needed to make me into what the Dunmer were expecting."

Bomba began to see. In fact, she herself had touched on the meaning of it, back on the ship when she had mused that Nenya seemed to be able to cope with the world much better when she was armoured up to the nines. The helmet might have some latent magical potency, but its real power lay in its psychological effect. The fact that Nenya had been astute enough to recognise and use this made Bomba suspect she was cleverer than she seemed. Much cleverer.

Thank god Nenya preferred warhammers to blades, she thought wryly; Kynareth knew what pairing Trueflame with her existing enchanted arsenal would have done to her.

She looked upset now, though. Another flash of intuition came to Bomba 'Lurrina: she didn't like people witnessing the kind of thing that had just happened. It made them think differently of her. And with good reason.

It was hard, though, not to feel affection for that hangdog expression.

"Come on," she said kindly, reaching up to tweak the younger (but annoyingly, far taller) woman's pigtail. "Let's get going. Thank you for rescuing me."

Nenya's face lit up with almost comical relief. "I'm sorry if I scared you," she said earnestly.

Bomba laughed out loud. "My dear girl, I have seen far scarier things than a Nord with a personality problem."


*
*

I liked this one a great deal. Quite a bit of action, and possibly a new character/henchmen development going on in Tel Fyr.

As for your concept of Nenya...the Morrowind picture basically entails what most characters looked like, so I much rather prefer the Oblivion one...and on that note, the eyes are wicked. They're so defined and sharp. Keep working with her until you get something you like! You can get indoril pauldrons for Oblivion too, so im pretty sure you won't have any issues reconstructing her wardrobe.
Im glad you liked mine, even though it was rather rushed. I wonder who i'll work on next...

I'm kinda leaning towards Bomba.

Looking forward to the next one! :hehe:

I've just started playing Daggerfall now, and haven't even gotten into the storyline yet (only level 2 ). Still, I so like this fanfic, and you have actually reinforced my recent inspiration to write another chapter for Manic Dementia.

I really like Nenya though... so full of surprises. And that Oblivion pic is pretty indeed. I prefer it.