This is the prologue for a story I'm writing.
This part of the story is around 3E30, thirty years into Tiber Septim's reign as Emperor.

Edit: 6/8/09 - Made some minor adjustments when Sylver regains consciousness. Story is same.


As Sylver stepped up on the last hill, his foot kicked a small rock over itself. Pausing to take a good look at the surroundings, the familiar scent of cooking fires, grilled mutton, and freshly baked sweetrolls wafted to the weary soldier. The setting sun gleamed off the black diamond on his massive double-edged katana strapped to his back. Though the diamond was very dark, it was still see-through, and made the world look like night during the light of day.

Left hand on the hilt of his kukri at his belt, Sylver descended to the small village he called "home." When he neared the pen of four sheep, three pigs and a paint horse, a few children could be heard laughing. One of them was Sylver's daughter. Five years old, last month. It pained Sylver that he had missed all but one of her birthdays, though he was able to send a messenger with a gift each year. He missed his wife, Rashida, just as much when he was gone.

Sylver managed to sneak in his house without being noticed, and Rashida hadn't immediately noticed his entrance. She was busy at the stove, checking on the sweetrolls. As she began with preparing a few slices of mutton, Sylver quietly leaned his massive katana in the corner by the door. His leather armor was made so it didn't crackle while the wearer moved and died the darkest color of black the tailor had.

Finally, Sylver casually stated in his deep, smooth voice, "I'm home."

Rashida immediately stopped, turned around, and almost dropping some of the mutton on the floor, flew to her husband and embraced him with a "Welcome home, Syl."

After being gone for several months, Sylver felt like the weight of the world was lifted from him as he embraced his wife. Fighting for months at a time for a dying order took as much of a toll on him as it did the next brethren of his order.

Several minutes went by before they finally let go of each other. Both had tears streaming down their cheeks as Rashida went to check on the sweetrolls as Sylver washed his hand to tend the mutton that she abandoned.

"How is Olena?" Sylver asked his wife as he seasoned the meat.

"The little rugrat is as active as ever," Rashida heartily replied. "She's already made great friends with the neighbor kids."
Their village had only five houses built in an odd circle around a large pit made for a large fire. Usually only on festivals or holidays there is a bonfire lit in the center of town. When a baby was born, or a house was built for a new resident, the bonfire would be lit in the honor of the family that had the baby or just moved in.

"How is the Order?" It was Rashida's turn to ask.

After a short pause, Sylver replied, "Quite a few more abandoned their positions in the Order to join the Blades, or at least try to join. The Order has been around since long before the first Emperor, keeping peace and protecting the innocent. It makes me angry to think that a few foul rumors are making so many leave." Unable to concentrate on the meat before him, Sylver clenched his fists as he leaned on the counter.
Rashida hugged him from behind, trying to comfort him, "I love you, Syl. I always will." Sylver relaxed at his wife's voice, a weak smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Before another word could be said, the neighbors screamed from their house across the circle. Sylver instinctively grabbed his katana, slowly opened the door, and peeked outside. Several horseman slashed down their neighbors as others torched the thatched roof!
Olena was still out there, and Sylver just had to find her.

"Rashida," Sylver whispered quickly to his wife, "get yourself to safety! I will find Olena."

"I won't leave without either of you," Rashida whispered back.

Sylver knew best not to argue with Rashida, she was one of the most stubborn people he ever knew, "Stay hidden, then."

Sylver knew he couldn't take on several horseman at once, but would gladly take on an army if his family was in jeopardy. He slipped out the door, and ducked between the houses, eluding the eyes of the horseman.
As he slipped through the shadows of the setting sun, he managed to sneak a peek at the banners a few horseman carried. They held up maroon flags, each with a gold lion embroidered with fine tailoring skills. The lions shined on the flags from the light of their torches, and the now three burning buildings!

The children weren't making any sounds, so he couldn't discern where they were. As Sylver passed beneath the boughs of a tree, a sharp pain shot through the back of his head, throwing him forward, and sending his katana spiraling towards a very large bush. Stars burst before his eyes as he fell unconscious.

As he regained consciousness, Sylver's head throbbed and pulsed with pain. He tried to move, but his muscles ached sorely as he slowly got to his knees. After a few minutes, his throbbing head calmed down as he began to wonder where he was.
It was the middle of the night, both moons where high in the sky, giving off an eerie and tranquil light. Sylver took a moment to relax. It felt like a long time had passed since he last relaxed.
A small, dark glint caught his eye. Sylver studied the bush that it came from for a moment, and soon recalled that his sword had flown from his grasp.
It all began to come back to Sylver. He recalled arriving home in the evening, and then there were screams. He recalled leaving his house to find his daughter. But he hadn't gotten very far. Something had hit him, knocking him unconscious, and causing him to throw his katana.

Where is Rashida?

A rush of fear for his family overwhelmed Sylver. Did he return home just to see his village be slain mercilessly and the houses torched?

"Rashida! Olena!" Sylver cried as he struggled getting his muscles to lift him to his feet.
Four of the houses were little more than burnt and charred rubble, including his own home. The fifth house was made of more stone and less wood than the others, so the house hadn't fully burned to the ground.

Are they ok?

A breeze rustled the limbs of the surrounding trees, making a faint and delicately soft noise. Sylver stood where the doorframe once was as he scanned for any sign of his family among the dark remains. The walls and the roof were made of wood, and only a few charred logs remained intact. The stove was partially warped from the heat of the flames that took the house. The tables and beds were also almost completely gone, the bed frames so warped that they were unrecognizable.
Sylver was struck with grief when his eyes scanned over the charred remains of a body. He was so struck, he could not move for several minutes. Dropping to his knees, tears flowed down his cheeks and onto his hands he sat in front of his legs.

Rashida is dead?

Sylver looked up, eyes blurry from his tears. Wiping the tears away, he jumped to his feet, realizing the he was only seeing one body in his home, and that his daughter might still be alive. Turning away from the ashes of his home, the Redguard scanned the ruins around him for any sign of life.
Though it was the dead of night and very dark, the moons glowed their silver and red bodies, casting a gentle, dull light on the world, illuminating enough for Sylver to see the ruined village.

Is Olena alive?

"Olena!" Sylver cried out into the night, wondering if his daughter was still alive, and praying that she hadn't suffered the same fate as his wife.
The scent of burned flesh caught up with him as Sylver's eyes crossed the fire pit. The bodies of his neighbors were gathered, still smoldering.
Though he had seen a few small villages just like his being torched by groups of bandits, Sylver could never get over why such atrocities were committed.
Approaching the fire pit, Sylver's vision blurred as he took it in. Though Sylver could not discern which torched figure belonged to who, all of the villagers were accounted for, all except Olena?

She is alive!

The Order had long helped keep bandits off the roads, and helped keep towns and villages safer since long before the first Septim brought peace to Cyrodiil. There was a lot of bloodshed then, as many tyrant-kings fought to grasp power over the lands.
Since the Emperor began his reign at the beginning of the Third Era, the Imperial City was built from the rubble of the chaos. Since there was little use for their army after the Emperor took his seat, the Blades were formed and the Imperials Troops began to guard their own cities and patrol their roads.
For thirty years, the Order had been little more than a guild that performed odd jobs and freelance work. Since they were no longer needed to patrol the roads or guard towns and villages, jobs were taken over by the Imperial Legion, and the Order slowly began to disband over the decades.

But where is Olena??

Olena's body wasn't in the village. She was still alive, but where was she? Whether the horseman took her, or she had run and hid, he didn't know, but Sylver needed to do something.
Maybe he could get some of the Order together to find her. Though the Order suffered from a diminished roster, there had to be someone who would help.
Realizing that his katana was not at his back, Sylver soon recalled that it had flown from his grasp when he was knocked unconscious.
Returning to the tree, he examined the ground around it and its boughs. There looked to be a struggle imprinted into the dirt, a small set of footprints and a large set overlapping each other as well as a few impressions that resembled someone's back or chest. The boughs a few feet higher than Sylver was, there were slices etched into the bark and a few small slabs of it seemingly ripped off.

"There must have been a struggle that I happened to have 'cushioned' on its way down," Sylver concluded to himself.
Facing the same direction that he was when he was knocked out, Sylver stepped forward to a large bush. The dirt beneath it was scrapped, as if something slid underneath it.
Parting the thick leaves, Sylver stretched his arms through the bush's large leaves, feeling for his katana.
Cold metal touched his fingertips when his arms were completely outstretched into the bush. Carefully brushing one of the sharp edges, Sylver moved the blade with the edge upright and pushing against the flat.
The sharp end of the katana emerged from the bush to Sylver's left. Pulling the katana out of the bush, he blew the small remnants of dirt off the blade and attached it to the special hook at his back.

I must find Olena.

With nothing left of his home, Sylver resolved to find Olena, even if he had to travel all the corners of Tamriel to find her.
After making a short prayer to Azura to protect Olena and help him in his journey, Sylver left his home for the last time.

First of all let me compliment you on the very nice work. You tell us who he is, intoduce his base character, and basically tell us what the whole thing will be about. He is roughly the correct place between uberness and commenness for his background, and he is portrayed wonderfully as a family man.

Compliments aside, I regret to say that some flow and word choice is off, if only slightly. Nothing that makes anything bad, but just leaves a feeling of room for improvement. This is especially evident at the beginning as opposed to less nearing the end. Descriptive, almost poetic ends to paragraphs and combination of thought and narration make for exciting, easy to read and digest language.

The story itself feels as though it has one or two plot holes, the most obvious being how you say that "Concluded that one of the horseman were in the tree, waiting for someone like him to pass." What did this guy do? Was he asleep, dead, or did he just not care that an able and armed warrior was walking around the village they had just killed?

I know he is a hardened warrior, but his wife dying could be portrayed with a bit more emotion than tears, even if he is concentrating on his daughter. The lines in between paragraphs, where he justs thinks "Where is Rashida?" and "Is Olena alive?" makes for a very dramatic scene, nice work.

The number of times his weapons are mentioned make it kind of repetitive, seeming like they are either important to the plot or he just cares about them alot. Or that that is what he is concerned with at the time. I don't care how cautious I might be, if my family has a high mortality rate, I don't take the time to find my katana, I run screaming looking for them. And twenty bucks says this guy would too. Even if he went numb as you say.

Finally, my last concern is with the "sharp pain" thta knocks him unconcious, how did it happen? I'm sure that he can judge what hit him once he's awake, whether it was a club, rock, arrow, etc.

Make sure in the next chapter to have him reflect on the incident, and show serious emotion. Possibly describe current events more, instead of just the scenery tell us what exactly he or someone else is doing. And the history can wait during a scene as tramatic as this.

Over all, very nice, I look forward to more and welcome back.

Very nice piece I really look forward to this story.

And I entirely agree with Darkom, the short paragraphs of "Where is Rashida?" and "Where is Olena?" create a great effect.

EDIT: http://luksavat.tripod.com/kukri.jpg

Here's "Volume 1" of the story.
I would like to make a big "Thank you!!" to Darkom95 and Faldom for being the first to comment!
I'm going to make a few "adjustments" to the prologue while I work on Volume 2 (in response to the generous commentators), and if I get some feedback on this volume, will also "adjust" this one.
:foodndrink: May the Nine Bless you!! (lol)


Sylver and the Order of the Last Soldiers
Volume 1

Wandering the dark roads, Sylver thought to himself, "I wonder whose flags those were last night? Hm, golden lions etched on maroon background."

As Sylver approached the gates of Skingrad, he had barely noticed the time fly by. The sun was just peeking over the eastern horizon, casting it's warmth to the land in a soft light.
Looking up at the gate, Sylver wondered how long it took him to get to Skingrad.

"Well, at least I'm here," he said to himself as he entered the town.
Inside the town's walls, Sylver headed for the Two Sister's Lodge to eat. He would have eaten the previous night, but after the rude interruption, he hadn't an appetite all night. Without a bite to eat since breakfast the previous day, Sylver was so hungry, he would love to eat a whole deer in one sitting!

The lodge was three stories high, and the only way to get in was the door to the second floor at the top of a few stone steps. Inside, a platform covered half the floor that looked down to the first floor where the bar was. Several chairs and tables sat lonely on the first and second floors while a warm fire burned its logs in the fireplace.
After stepping down to the first floor, Sylver approached the Orc behind the counter.

"Hi," the Redguard politely greeted her.

"What can I do for you?" the Orc replied in a pleasant manner, though there seemed to be a slight tone of annoyance.

"I'd like some bread, mutton, and a bottle of mead, please."

"The name's Mog. We don't have mutton, will you want venison instead?"

"Sure, Mog, venison is fine."

Mog gathered the items, she said, "that'll be two coins? You look like you had quite a rough night. Want something stronger than mead?"

After a short hesitation, Sylver replied, "No, mead's fine. Thanks anyways, though."

Sylver pulled out the coins and sat them on the counter as soon as the Orc sat the last of his order down on a plate. With a grateful "Thanks," Sylver picked up the plate in one hand and the bottle and a fork in the other.
Sitting down to enjoy his breakfast, Sylver bit into his bread. While he chewed, he breathed deeply through his nose and let out his breath when he swallowed. As Sylver took a bite of his venison, Mog started to wipe the countertop with a rag.

Not even half-way through his breakfast, two robed and hooded figures walked down the stairs and lunged towards Mog!
One figure was half the size of an advlt and had a Kajiit tail while the other was the size of an advlt and had an Argonian tail. The Argonian tailed figure pulled out a knife at the last second and held it at Mog's throat before Sylver could draw his kukri!

"We're from the Black Cowl Guild," the dagger-wielding figure hissed.

"You don't scare me!" Mog retorted. "Why don't you fight like a real warrior so I can-"

"Hey!" The small figure squeaked, "You said there would be nobody else here!" The little figure had noticed Sylver standing next to his chair, looking quite angrily at the tall figure. He didn't like being interrupted while eating, especially when he was hungry!
A tense moment followed as the Argonian-tailed figure considered his options.
The Argonian-tailed figure grabbed Mog's coinpurse with his free hand, shoved Mog to the floor, and was gone as fast as he had come! Mog had quickly recovered from the push and grabbed the little figure by her Kajiit tail before she could quite realized what had just happened.

"You little furball," Mog growled angrily, "I'm gonna string you up by your tail!"

As Mog rose her fist to strike the little figure, Sylver shouted, "stop!" The figure was crouched, shaking in fear before Mog, making a fearful glance to Sylver when he shouted.

"Stay out of this, Redguard," Mog grumbled.

"Please let go of her tail, I will take her from here." Though Sylver was very hard on criminals when he caught them, he was never inclined to hurting children as punishment.
When Sylver grabbed the frightened figure's arm, the Orc reluctantly released her grip on the Kajiit-tail. Sylver removed the hood, revealing the Kajiit's head, her ears flat and eyes were wide with fear.

"What is your name, young Kajiit?" Sylver asked, smiling, as if nothing bad had happened.

"M-m'name's? Ziniira," the Kajiit stammered. She couldn't have been older than seven, two years older than Olena, Sylver's daughter.

"Where do you live, I would like to take you home," Sylver offered.

"I? don't have a home," the Kajiit replied, calming down. "The Argonian that was with me, he brought me to the Black Cowl Guild after my parents died. He said if I didn't go with him, he would have to kill me."

"Tell you what," Sylver offered, "if you stick with me, I'll protect you from that bad Argonian."

"You will?" Ziniira seemed even calmer now, the fear in her eyes almost completely gone.

"This is touching and all," Mog interrupted, "but that thief did take my coinpurse!"

"Will this be enough to cover your loss?" Sylver pulled out a coinpurse about the size of Mog's. Though the Order had lost just as much business as members, they were still able to pay fairly well. This coinpurse had fifteen coins in it, quite a modest sum for a day's work. Sadly, it would leave Sylver with only the few coins tucked away in his belt.

"That's quite generous," Mog said, impressed, and took the coinpurse. "Tell you what, since you are so generous, and quite a dashing Redguard at that, come back for lunch on the house. Or dinner, whichever you prefer. I'll tell my sister Ugak about you so she'll know if you decide to come for dinner and not lunch. Just don't expect both meals free."

"Thank you, Mog. I would like to request that you alert this to the authorities about that shady Argonian." Mog smiled for the first time as Sylver turned to the young Kajiit, "Let's go, Ziniira. We've caused enough trouble for today."

Ziniira nodded and the two were off. After that morning's excitement, Sylver wasn't too hungry. If Ziniira was hungry, she didn't mention it.

As the duo rounded a corner Sylver stopped and checked his new Kajiit friend over. The black robes would be much too warm for the weather!

"Do you have any other clothes besides what you're wearing?"

"This robe is all I have," Ziniira replied, though somewhat bluntly.

"Hm, I wonder if the Chapel of Julianos will be able to help," Sylver wondered. "Come, the Chapel is right around this corner."

As they approached the Chapel, Ziniira pulled on Sylver's arm, "I was told the Chapels are haunted places!"

"Who told you that, the Argonian? I wouldn't be surprised if it was him, not the Chapels, if he's stolen from them." Ziniira reluctantly nodded and continued with Sylver, though she didn't want to let go of his hand.

Inside the Chapel of Julianos, an old priest greeted them warmly, "Blessings upon you. Have you come to pray at the-" The priest paused shortly, and as if he just recalled something important, smiled ever more warmly, "You look familiar, Redguard. Are you one of the Order that helped our Chapel when Skingrad was first built?"

"You must be referring to my father," Sylver replied. "The name's Sylver."

"I see," the old priest's smile didn't waver, but stuck to his cheeks with vigor. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"I was wondering if the temple had any extra clothes for my young Kajiit friend," Sylver asked.
Ziniira made no noise when the two advlts were talking, she was still afraid, and yet very curious, about the Chapel of Julianos.
A few commoners were seated before the alter while two others were on their knees, murmuring their prayers to Julianos and the other gods of the Nine Divine.

"As a matter of fact," the priest replied, trying to recall, "we have had quite a few garments recently donated. Come, allow me to show you what we have."
The priest led them to a door looming before the bottom steps of the stairs and opened the door for them. The room was well lit, with a desk in the corner pilled with books and a chair that sat as if it were a loyal dog next to the desk. A few pieces of parchment stuck out from between a couple of the books as the feather from a pen stuck out from between two small piles.
The rug was of fine wool and very soft to the bare foot. Silk draqes depicting Julianos hung on the walls and looked to be made of very fine craftwork.
Two doors lead elsewhere on one wall of the room while the opposite wall had only one door. The door they just came in quietly shut on oiled hinges, as if afraid of disturbing the chapel's peace.

"Those wall hangings don't look like they're made of any silk I've seen," Sylver commented.

"Yes," the priest explained happily, "the silk is harvested far to the north. It goes to the Chapel's best tailor, and she spins the raw material herself before sewing such masterful work!" Turning to the lonely door to their left, the priest said, "Here is where our donated garments are."
The priest opened the door to a room that could fit four times in the room they were just in. Along with a few crates and barrels on one side of the room, a wardrobe sat on the other side, its wooden sides against the stone walls.

Pulling out a brown doublet and a pair of darker brown pants from the wardrobe, the priest handed them to Ziniira, asking, "Will you try these on?"
Nodding, Ziniira accepted the garments, smiling as best she could without bearing her little fangs.

When she appeared from behind one of the two bedroom doors, Ziniira was wearing the doublet and pants, the dark robe neatly folded in her hands. Her feet padded gently on the floor as she shyly handed the robe to the priest.

"I apologize for bugging you further," Sylver asked the priest after he noticed Ziniira's bare feet, "but do you have any shoes or boots?"

"Of course," the priest replied heartily. Setting the robe on one of the barrels in the small room, he turned to the wardrobe. He reemerged, holding a pair of rough leather shoes, handing them to Ziniira.
Happily, the young Kajiit slipped her feet into the shoes, moving her toes to feel the inside of the shoes.

"Thanks for the clothes," Sylver smiled as they stepped up back to the main floor of the Chapel. Ziniira, holding onto his hand again, eyed Sylver's Kukri at his belt. She had never seen a blade curved like a boomerang.

"It is no problem at all," the priest replied. "If you need anything at all, you are always welcome in the Chapel of Julianos."

Outside the Chapel, Sylver noticed Ziniira eyeing his Kukri again, and had an idea.

"How are you with the blade, Ziniira?"

"I've been shown a little, but I guess I'm ok with them," Ziniira squeaked.

"Tell you what," Sylver said as he unstrapped the Kukri from his belt, "you can hold onto my Kukri for a while." As he handed the boomerang-shaped blade to Ziniira, she held it carefully in her clawed hands. When she didn't immediately strap it to her belt, Sylver asked, "Something wrong with the Kukri?"

"N-no," Ziniira stammered. "Uhm? Thank you." Sylver helped her strap the foot-and-a-half blade to her belt and they continued down the street.

Barely half-way down the street, a voice demanded, "Stop!" Turning to the voice, a guard wearing red chainmail had confronted a very familiar hooded figure, and continued, "You've violated the law! Pay the court a fine or serve your sentence. You're stolen goods are now-" Suddenly, the figure was off, running away from the guard before the sentence could be finished, and at top speed towards Sylver and Ziniira! Oddly, the guard seemed to angrily shout, "Then pay with your blood!" Nobody seemed to hear it, though.
Sylver, as if by instinct, grabbed the hilt of his katana with one hand and pushed Ziniira behind him with the other. An urge grabbed Sylver to kill the Argonian because of how he had treated his Kajiit friend. Killing wasn't part of Sylver's nature, but seemed to grab him during rare occasions. Sylver feared this, and that fear would propel him to resist killing.
The figure seemed to have taken notice of the Redguard, and just as he jump over them, Sylver used the flat of his katana to strike his head while the Argonian was in mid-air!
Dazed, the Argonian fell to the stone street, clawing and kicking at the air, trying to get back to his feet. The guard was close behind the Argonian, and had to skid to a halt before he tripped over the slightly recovered Argonian.

"Impressive," the guard commented Sylver. "You look like you'd make a wonderful Captain of the Guard."

"Ungh?" the Argonian moaned, "what hit me??" He managed to find the ground with his feet and hands. Looking up at the dark figure, wearing even darker leather, he cried, "You! You're the one from the Two Sister's Lodge!"

"Yes," Sylver confirmed. "And you are headed for jail!"

As Ziniira peeked around Sylver's elbow, the Argonian hissed angrily at her, "you little traitorous scamp!"

"That's enough!" The guard slapped irons around the Argonian's wrists, binding the lizard's hands behind his back. Hoisting up the captive, the guard thanked Sylver as he led the prisoner away.

"Looks like that takes care of that Argonian," Sylver laughed. A coinpurse lay where the Argonian had fallen, and when Sylver noticed the small bag, he added, "What do ya know? He left us a little farewell gift."
Picking up the coinpurse, Sylver weighed it in his hand. It felt a little heavier than the coinpurse he handed to Mog earlier. With a satisfied smile, he tucked the coinpurse in a pocket, padding it as flat as it could go so it wouldn't stand out as an odd lump. The coinpurse seemed to completely vanish to any eyes that would wander his direction.

Ziniira, after being saved twice from being struck by an Orc and again by an angry Argonian, began to take a true liking to Sylver.

Curious to where they were headed next, Ziniira asked her friend, "Where are we going?"

After a short pause, Sylver replied, "To find the Order. I need the help from my brethren to find a few people."
His answer satisfied Ziniira, and she held his hand as they continued down the street.

Here we go! "Volume 2" of the Order of the Last Soldier!!
If it's gettin' long for ya, bear with me.
I just "adjusted" the Prologue to the story (the first post in this thread).
Anyways, comments are welcome!!
The hardest criticism you can think of is also welcome so long as pointers/suggestions or things you liked are included. (I won't hate you for it! )
Edited because I had writen "Volume 3" when this one is actually "Volume 2".

Enjoy!!


As the sun began its descent in the western sky, Sylver guided Ziniira northeast, along the Gold Road to the Imperial City. The Order has a secret base located in the Waterfront District, in Emer Dareloth's basemant. The Imperial was a generous man, sharing his home with the Order.
Emer Dareloth's father founded the Thieves Guild, though few of the many wanna-be-thieves have the talent to join. All in all, though, it does help keep some of the crooks in a line under one banner.

The Order's Guildmaster was often found in Dareloth's basemant, working himself to the bone, trying to keep the Order from vanishing into the few pages of history that the Order claimed. In the last few years all over Cyrodiil, taxes have been increased, though Emperor Tiber Septim has never given his citizens any real explanation.
This was good in a small way, for increased taxes meant suppliers and merchants had to pay even more to ship their goods across Cyrodiil. The Order had to lower their prices, and recently had to lower them again to help keep customers coming to the Order instead of the Imperial Legion. With less income, the Order has had to cut back.

"Stay close to me," Sylver told Ziniira. "There are wolves and bears out here, and I don't want you to get hurt."

"I'm getting hungry," Ziniira said, as if she was not concerned with the warning. "Can we stop to eat?"

"Of course," Sylver agreed.
Though they didn't have any food on them, Sylver never had much need to bring food with him on the road. He was a fine hunter, though he would almost always use his bow? his bow that was now in the ashes of his home. But Sylver never took his bow while on a contract for the Order. Food was provided, if either by the Order or the hiring party.

As if on cue, a cart accompanied by two Imperial Horseman and three Imperial Troops pulled around a bend in the road. It looked just like a regular merchant cart, though a thick sheet covered the pile of lumpy cargo.

"Hail," Sylver greeted, approaching the cart as it stopped before him and Ziniira.

"Out of the way, Redguard," one of the footmen demanded.

"If you have spare supplies," Sylver said, looking at the footman that spoke, "I would like to buy some food for me and my friend."

"Let him alone," the driver scowled at the footman. "I do have some extra food. What interests you?" He jumped to the dirt road and motioned the duo to follow him to the back of the cart.

"Two strips of jerky, a loaf of bread, and a bottle of weak mead if you have some." As the driver rummaged around for the supply of food, Sylver inquired, "Is there any news of Tamriel?"

"Aside from the recent Tax hike, the Dark Brotherhood's rising activity, or the new band of marauders that have been terrorizing the countryside?"

Sylver's heart skipped when he heard the last thing mentioned, and asked, "A new band of marauders?"

"Yeah, they've burned down quite a few villages and pillaged a few farms. Seems they call themselves the 'Bandits of the Lion,' showing off a maroon flag with an embroidered gold lion. I've had the unfortunate ill-luck to run into them once. Hired mercenaries and troops ever since to protect my cargo." As the driver spoke, Sylver found himself back at his home, seeing his dead wife and burned village flash before his eyes.

Snapping himself out of the previous night, Sylver wondered aloud, "Bandits of the Lion, huh?"

Pulling out the meat and bread, the driver said, "Yeah. From what I'm also hearing, there's only a handful of banding marauders that parade their flag, including the man that brought them together." After a short pause, he added, "I'm afraid we don't have any mead, but it'll be five coins for the meat and bread."

"That's quite a bit of coin you ask for," Sylver commented, shrugging as he handed over the coins. "Understandable with the times, though."

As Ziniira hungrily devoured her jerky, Sylver thought about how he would be able to obtain food in the future, in the event that he would need to hunt.
When the meat was done, the bread was torn in half. Not a crumb remained when the duo continued to the Imperial City, Ziniira's hand in Sylver's.

On their way, Ziniira asked, "What is that jewel on your sword?"

"The Black Diamond? It's a rare gem that has been in my family for generations." Sylver explained. "I'm sorry, but I really don't want to say much more." The Black Diamond on the hilt of his katana briefly reflected a black glint as the sunlight's continuous rays shined upon the traveling duo.
Ziniira looked up at Sylver, her curiosity growing about her mysterious guardian.

As the stars began to peek their twinkling eyes down on Cyrodiil, the sun was almost gone.

Before the darkness of night could grow much further, Sylver said, "We should stop for the night." Stepping to a small clearing off the road, Sylver added, "We will stay here tonight."

As Sylver gathered tree branches to start a fire, Ziniira pulled the Kukri out of its sheath. Grasping the hilt firmly, she tested the swing of the blade in her furry hand. The hilt felt very comfortable in her bare palm, in spite of her hand being smaller than that of an advlt's. The boomerang-shape of the blade made the sword seem a bit faster than other blades of similar size.
Returning with a few branches, Sylver smiled to himself, and said to Ziniira, "Looks like you're taking a liking to the Kukri."

Ziniira smiled as Sylver dropped the branches in a neat pile, and replied, "Yes, and it's pretty."

"I'd like to see you use it on somebody," Sylver commented. "If you're up to it, we can spar around the fire once I get it up."
With a few larger branches and logs collected, smaller branches were set neatly in a circle of rocks. With a rock in each hand, Sylver struck them vigorously until a spark lit a few dried leaves and flared up, lighting the branches.
As Sylver gradually added bigger branches and pieces of wood, Ziniira watched the dancing flames grow to a small fire before her.
With the fire steadily burning, the night sky stretched above them, blanketing Tamriel in near pitch darkness without its moons yet in the sky, receding only from the gentle kiss of the flames.

"So how about that little skirmish?" Sylver asked Ziniira after a short pause to relax by the fire.

"Won't the blade get dented?" Ziniira inquired back.

"These weapons of mine are enchanted," Sylver explained. "They aren't going to be easily dented, scratched, tarnished, or broken."
With a nod from Ziniira, they both brandished their swords.

Sylver didn't go hard on Ziniira, as his skills with the blade greatly exceeded hers. He was even slightly sarcastic with her, though he did show her a few techniques here and there for her to practice.
The skirmish didn't last long. Ziniira was tired by the end, and quickly fell asleep when she snuggled up next to Sylver as he dozed.
As an adventurous fighter, Sylver was very good at dozing off when he needed sleep while circumstances didn't favor it. The smallest noises would instantly startle him, and pungent scents would arise him while he dozed, drifting between the dream world and waking world.
Shortly before dawn, Ziniira was wide away, yawning as she stretched her limbs like a cat. Sylver stood to stretch his muscles as the weak fire smoldered its last piece of wood into ash. Since the fire didn't need to be put out, the duo continued their trek towards the Imperial City.

"What's for breakfast?" Ziniira asked Sylver.

"We can wait until we get to the city," Sylver explained. "We'll be there late this morning."
Ziniira sighed, but otherwise didn't complain, holding onto Sylver's hand through the rest of their trek to the city.

As they approached Wawnet Inn, the morning sun had risen high, kissing Tamriel with its warm rays. The early morning was brisk, and warmed little as the morning progressed.
Inside Wawnet Inn, there were few commoners enjoying an early lunch. Sylver and Ziniira soon finished their food without any excitement and made their way across the bridge to the city.

In the Waterfront District, harbor bells rang as the duo approached Dareloth's Garden. Though the garden was small, Arrowroot, Alkanet, Flax, Foxglove and Dragon's Tongue plants happily grew in small numbers.
The door in Dareloth's Garden led them to Emer Dareloth's basemant. There, the Order's Master would be working vigorously.

"Hey, Ceasr," Sylver casually greeted the Guildmaster once inside.

Startled, the old Breton jerked around in his chair, a paper slipping from the desk, and retorted, "Sylver, didn't I just send you home last week?"

"You did," Sylver grinned.

"Who is your young friend and why are you here, then?" Ceasr asked. He showed a hint of concern in his voice, though his facial expression didn't change from his exhausted look.
"This is Ziniira," Sylver introduced his friend and continued, "and I'm here because my home was pillaged by marauders going by the name of the 'Band of the Lion'."

Shock immediately crossed Ceasr's face as he stood up, sending a few more papers to the floor, growling, "What!? Who are they? Where do they come from?"

"I don't know," Sylver replied more seriously. "It happened so fast, and I was ? unfortunately ? knocked unconscious while they burned and murdered." Sadness grew in Sylver's voice as he continued, "my wife was also murdered, but I couldn't find my daughter."

Hands on Sylver's shoulders, Ceasr told him, "I grieve for your loss, Sylver. I truly do, but the Order's brethren are stretched so thin already."
Going back to retrieve the fallen papers, the Breton sat back on his chair after picking up all of them as Sylver breathed deeply, trying to relax.

"Thank you, Guildmaster," Sylver said respectfully and Ceasr gave him a smile that seemed to say "I'm so exhausted" and "I hope you find her" at the same time.
Though sad for his loss, Ziniira was more curious about her guardian. "Just who is he?" she wondered to herself.

As Ceasr went back to his papers, Emer came down to the basemant, and greeted Sylver as he retrieved a few bottles from the wine rack on one wall, "Hey, back so soon, I see."

"What's up, Emer?" Sylver kindly greeted back, though without as much friendliness as he usually greeted his friend. Though he thought Emer to be slightly deluded with the grandeur of his plan to steal Nocturnal's Cowl, Sylver added, "Haven't found your Cowl, yet?"

Sensing he was being teased, Emer retorted smugly, "Unlike the Order, the Thieves Guild fancies themselves to obtaining things quicker and of higher value. You'll see when I have the Cowl."

"Yes, but the Order has kept people like you safe from the types that make the Thieves Guild look like a rabble of children," Sylver chuckled. Ceasr didn't seem at all distracted when the two laughed.

After the meeting, Sylver and Ziniira stepped onto the low Arboretum stone platform and sat on a bench. Birds chirped happily, fluttering here and there while butterflies drifted from flower to flower.
No one else was there, except for a Nord on the other side of the platform. This Nord caught Sylver's attention because he wore a leather cuirass, fur greaves, and fur boots. A finely crafted bow was strapped to his back in a cloth tube and the head of his axe was slung at his belt so the handle dropped next to his legs.

A gate banged shut, and three men clad in familiar armor approached the Nord. The clad men wore the same colored armor as the Band of the Lion that torched his home!
How they got into the Imperial City was a complete mystery to Sylver, but he didn't waste time. Sneaking behind a thick tree, Sylver eavesdropped on the conversation while Ziniira crouched behind a bench so she wouldn't be seen.

"You know where the Jewel is?" One of the clad men, a Dunmer, spat at the Nord.

"I might," the Nord replied, unfazed. "But first, my money."

"Tell us first so we know you're not lying!" Another clad man glared.
The Nord truly didn't know where, or even what "jewel" they were talking about, and ran his fingers around the noose on his axe, considering his options. He could lie, leading them off so he could escape. Or, he could take on all three well-armed men.
Sylver may not have known what "jewel" they were talking about, either, but also considered his own options. He could jump out, brandishing his katana. Or he could let the scene play out as if he didn't exist. If Sylver's home hadn't been torched, he'd have been happy just to not get involved so long as nobody got hurt.

After a short pause, the Dunmer figured it out, "You don't know anything about the Jewel we are talking about!" As the trio pulled out their swords, he added, "You will pay for your trickery, fetcher!!"
Sylver took this time to jump on the Dunmer, the closest of the trio to him. He went down with one swing to the head! The now unconscious Dunmer never saw it coming, but his two comrades did. The two left quickly paired up, one to the Nord, one to Sylver.
Behind the clad men, Sylver could see the two Imperial Guards that guarded the gate were facing away from them. The only reason Sylver could think was that the clad men had bribed the guards to face that way. But the guards would have to eventually turn back to face them.

In a flurry of swordplay, Sylver quickly overpowered the clan man! While the Nord's axe was locked with the other's sword, Sylver hit him from behind.
All three were unconscious, and their skirmish was almost silent, allowing them to be unheard by the guards. But if the guards saw these men at their feet, they would try to arrest them at least for assault.

Before anything could be said, Sylver said to the Nord, "I have no desire to deal with the guards. We must flee!" Turning to the bench, he called quietly, "Ziniira, come on!"

"Yes, I must agree," the Nord nodded with a sigh and led the way through the other gate. Too many shrubs, trees, and pillars blocked the view of these guards, so they had no idea what had just transpired.
Katana at his back and holding Ziniira's hand, Sylver followed the Nord out of the Arboretum. They made their way through the city streets, as fast as they could without drawing suspicion. As it was still lunch-time, there were few that lingered outside, including the beggars.

It would be too dangerous for Sylver and the Nord to stay. Even though the clad men were still alive, they did assault all three of them, giving the guards all the reason needed to arrest on site. Ziniira would also be in trouble, though the repercussions to only witnessing one murder would be much less than the murder of three. People had the tendency to remember faces that they didn't need to remember, especially the guards.
Though Sylver knew Emer Dareloth, guildmaster of the Thieves Guild, he knew it would take at least a day for him to find the record of his little incident in the Arboretum. It would take another day or two for Emer to be able to "take care" of the assault charges.

Across the bridge, and on a path heading away from the Wawnet Inn, they were clear from the Imperial Guards. The Nord introduced himself, "The name's Eric Snowmane, and boy, did you come at the right time!"

"Sylver," returned the introduction, "and this is Ziniira. You seemed to have been in a tight squeeze. What was that all about?"

"I had overheard that their 'Band of the Lion' was looking for a priceless jewel," Eric explained. "It's said that it's the only one in all of Tamriel. That's all I really know of it. I never knew what exactly it was, where it was, or anything else at all." Pausing beneath the shadow of a tree, Eric continued, "They promised a nice chunk of coins for any information. I knew the Band of the Lion has strength to boot, but I think I underestimated them. It was a foolish mistake, though I won't regret it. I needed the money to help my family get out of debt."

"Your plight is understandable," Sylver nodded respectfully. "I lost my family and home to the Band of the Lion and my daughter is missing."

"I am saddened by your loss, Sylver. I smell there is money to be made, and I've got a score to settle with the Band. Or is it ale I smell?? Never mind that, but if I may, I would like to join you and Ziniira on your quest."

"I'd be honored," Sylver accepted Eric's invite. "And did you get a lead while you were dealing with the Band? We'll need all the leads we can get."

"As a matter of fact, yes," Eric said. "The Imperial that tipped me off for the Band's search for the precious jewel did mention Bravil."

"Bravil is a good two days walk," squeaked Ziniira, finally summoning up courage to talk before the two advlts.

"That's right," Sylver praised the young Kajiit. "A pity we don't have horses. We'd make the journey in half that time."

Sorry, lost track of this one. Going to have to do section two now and three later, my bad.

Alright, the beginning is fine, even if it still lacks much emotion. I'd think he would be devastated by the loss of his wife, just saying. Also, the time skip is unnatural, especiall the phrase "didn't notice the time fly by". My personal opinion is that it should be a bit more subtle, just saying something like "As he looked down from his hilly perch on the road, Sylver saw the first tendrils of sunlight start to paint the countryside in a vibrant red and gold. Castle Skingrad towered over the city, a sillhoutte against the sky."

The entering of the city and tavern were fine, as was the buying of his food, even though two coins sounds a bit light.



This progressed oddly, the exclamation points once more causing the narration to be awkward. And instead of describing their tails, you could just mention their race, even if it was the only sign (assuming they are wearing boots and gloves and very deep hoods). The argonian drawing the knife as he "lunged" is strange, most lunging takes place after weapon drawing, and in such a small space, a lunge can't be more than a dozen feet. Saying he grabbed the orc and then drew his knife, or drew his knife then grabbed the orc makes slightly more sense, unless you are saying he pointed it at her. Holding it at her throat makes it seem, to me, like he is behind her as opposed to pointing.

Naming the Khajiit as a child earlier would help her dialogue, it sounded like she was just a short khajiit. The complaining on her part just makes more sense coming from a child.

Also, the action on Sylvar's part was skimped over noticeably, the only mention of it is that he was standing, looking angry. You would probably want to say that he stood suddenly, knocking over his chair and reaching for his kukri. And the "tense" moment felt more like a needless pause, once he acknolwedged that Sylvar had a weapon, he would take the money and leave, not having a tense moment at all. Sudden action.

I only realized the khajiit was a child when the protagonist thought it, or narrated it, as the case may be. Khajiit-tail should be khajiit's tail, among other grammer errors. And Sylvar's responses sound far too educated and intelligeable, the establishment he's in was just robbed and he has a thief-child quivering in front of him, he would say something more along the lines of "Where are your parents?!" or "Where do you live?!" instead of calm questions. If it scares the kid, so be it, she just tried to rob someone (forcibly, yes, but the protagonist doesn't know that).

The way in which Mog responded, money first, was good. But the protagonists first concern was her clothes, which would be strange, really. My first concern would be who that guy was and how she came to know him.




This is worded strangely, are you saying the Argonian was haunted? It just sounds weird, I cannot even give an example of a replacement sentance.

The priest is the same, his first thought was that he knew him from somewhere, and he immediately recalled the exact event, one that had to have happened at least thirty years ago. And was spot on, thinking of the protagonists father.

Also, you'd think the priest would be more concerned over who the two are. Especially the robed child...Priests tend to ask things like "Would you like us to help you with that?" instead of offering clothes and nostalgia.



Nice descriptions, but too many metaphors can be a bad thing. Two doors lead elsewhere? Strange sentance.

And they seem a bit too preoccupied with the silk, even if it was casual conversation. Motion is not depicted along with description, and emotion is not touched upon at all. The khajiit girl seems forgotten.

Bugging you? Not exactly the words I'd use, especially for a khajiit child.



Contradictory, and or so would make more sense as a contraction.

The action with the Argonian was okay, but I question what caused him to be assaulted by the guards, unless the orc had given them a description and the criminal had stayed in town...

Finally, you switched from Sylver to Ziniira in the last bit, telling of her emotions beyond what was visible to the protagonist. This kind of thing is acceptable, but make sure it is not done as randomly as it was.

Good work so far, keep writing, and I'll do my best to look at the third part soon ^^
Sorry if some of my commentaries were minor, and the length of the post...

Thank you Darkom!
Makes me happy to have such a great critic!

I'm "adjusting" the 2 chapters I posted after the prologue, the church scene will be taken out completely and a couple other scenes revamped.
There won't be any new scenes that will include new critical information, so don't worry about missing something if you don't want to reread everything (I know that can be very annoying).
I'll update both chapters once I get 'em done.

Feel free to critique the other chapter if I don't get it up before you get on! (this goes for everyone! )
~silverwell

Darkom is right about everything! good character, good opening story! its good, i wish i was a good story teller