I have always thought, that in the computer games of TES, Magic has always been dumbed down. That it is in fact much larger and more malleable than it is perceived. That instead of simply learning to fire a fireball, you can control it's trajectory, the size, the impact, it's speed and nature of it. In this sense I have always enjoyed magic and have always made it a powerful entity in my stories and roleplays. I have however always struggled to get to the part in both my stories and roleplays where that magic evolves into something much larger than just a spell - An adaption of nature. I hope that through this story, I can write about such magic and such thoughts without needing to get to a particular stage and so forth.

Anyway, I am certainly looking for criticism, I have not written in a while and it would be nice to get some pointers or some idea's of how I may be able to describe a situation better. In the meantime, please read and enjoy:


Part 1
Of Xerca Valeci, And The Fall Of Vvardenfell.

"What you propose is too radical! It can't be done Xerca, you must stop this nonsense of yours!" Barked an aged Dunmer, his hair was now white and his eyes no longer shone a bright red, but more a dull shade of the colour. "Do not lecture me Sarnor, just because you were the instrument of my birth, does not mean I need to obey. Hasn't your wife's death taught you anything?" Replied a cruel voice, it belonged to a tall, handsome dunmer who wore a white silk robe that was encrusted with bright jewels.

Sarnor fell to his knee's and looked around him, his old eyes pierced the dark room, and fell upon the only source of light: A blue orb that created an eerie glow, it was placed upon a pedestal and looked as if a liquid inside it was moving. "Is this how you want to be remembered? Is this how you-" Sarnor's voice was cut short as Xerca hit him hard against the cheek with the butt of a staff.

"Quiet fool! If it wasn't for how you treated me as a child, I would've butchered you like I did that [censored] of a mother." Cut in Xerca, his words pierced Sarnor like a sword and the man began to weep. "Now, father, watch as I, Xerca Valeci; the dunmer that proved you all wrong - Destroy this damnable nation!" With those words, Xerca dropped his staff and walked towards the orb, he clasped both hands upon it and began to chant. His voice echoed around the small building, coming and going as if Xerca was not speaking, but the words were pouring in upon their own accord.

Slowly, and carefully, a trickle of blue light began to pour out of Xerca's eyes, it slithered towards the orb, it's colour changing from every shade of blue, to every shade of green. Xerca's chanting became quieter now, his voice began to fade as a fast paced thump began to surround him, the beat pressed against his face and caused him pain. Closer and closer the strand moved towards the orb, and louder and faster the beat became. The walls of the hut began to shake and vials of unknown, vibrantly coloured liquid began to shatter and fall to the floor. The strand was inches away now, he could feel the burning heat from it upon his hands, the sensation caused him to scream but his hands were firmly rooted to the orb.

It was then, upon the moment Xerca thought he would surely die that the strand of light touched the orb and in a spectacle of light and energy, the orb exploded into a shock wave of blue and green particles that shot through the house and across Vvardenfell. Xerca's body was flung to the side in the explosion, his frail body fell into a heap on the floor, next to his limp father.

Drat, the forum censor got the better of one of my sentances..

I forgot this place had such a thing. D:

Well, I always love people that try to make magic more interesting, and this short was, ah, very interesting indeed. It feels like it could have been made longer, like this was the last scene, or perhaps the first, but regardless I would like more

The only real issues I have are how frail his father is and the way you worded some of the sentences. Concerning this Sarnor character, I would say it would do well to give him a bit more emotion and dialogue, perhaps even having him throw himself at the orb at the last second and saving the day or something

As to the wording, here is what I mean "Sarnor fell to his knee's and looked around him, his old eyes pierced the dark room, and fell upon the only source of light: A blue orb that created an eerie glow, it was placed upon a pedestal and looked as if a liquid inside it was moving."

I don't know if it is a tense issue or what, but it feels off somehow. I try not to judge people for this, but it was just something I noticed as I read that occured frequently. I myself would write "Sarnor fell to his knee's and looked about, his old eyes piercing the dark room, falling upon the only source of light: a glowing orb, the blue liquid within moving, the pedestal on which it rested rocking slightly back and forth."

It is hardly an issue, mostly a matter of personal taste anyway, but I can find very little to critique in short stories, aside from the fact the characters seem a little flat, but that is to be expected.

All in all, you accomplished your goal of describing magicka, I liked it and hope you will make a real story of it. Thanks for writing and, as always, keep it up :goodjob:

While writing it, I found alot of the sentances lacked alot of content and structure which I just didn't know how to solve. I tried several methods and in the end chose that one. After reading what you suggested, I can see the difference and I can certainly see how I could go about changing future sentances, so thankyou. That's precisely what I wanted to hear and I'm glad that you were able to act upon that.

On the topic of sarnor, I had intended to make him seem weak and frail to super impose the cruelty of Xerca, but I really wanted to flesh it out a bit, and now that I can look back on it, I can definetly see that I should've added a longer conversation, maybe something about their mother, how she died and how Xerca felt about that. I doubt i'll change it, but it's certainly something for me to consider.

I will be creating a longer story, or so I hope; I find it very difficult to stay motivated to this sort of thing and I will certainly act on your feedback about how I could create a more indepth sentance that would contribute more to the story.

Thanks again.

No problem, I'm always happy to help. I'm glad my words were stepping on your toes too much, and thanks for taking them into consideration. I look forward to your next story

Hopefully this is better, I'm not sure I'm terribly chuffed of this scene but it builds up for the others of which there shall be much more happening. Anyway, in this chapter I intended to give a brief intro to the main enemy of the story and give him a location. Don't worry about the time line, I'm working on introducing that.

Part 2

Xerca rolled to the side and groaned in pain, his whole body ached and his hands were badly burnt. He glanced around him; the building was in bad shape, furniture littered the floor beside his dead father and the orb was smashed. Slowly, and painfully Xerca got to his feet, he staggered slightly and tripped over something on the floor, hitting the wall hard as he slumped to the ground.

He wiped the back of his hand across his face to get rid of the thick sweat. It was then that he heard it, a scream of terror which was quickly joined by other screams, twisted and monstrous screams. Xerca rose to his feet quicker this time and stalked towards the door, his mind began to awake and fear crept up the side of his back.

The door to the hut opened quietly and revealed a vibrantly coloured dark sky that cast a glow upon the plains of Vvardenfell. He smirked in admiration of his work but that smirk was quickly changed into a grimace as something began to run towards him from the shadows, Xerca calculated the distance, 100 metres? he thought to himself as he stepped back wards. It wasn't until the shadow passed a fire did he see the monstrosity for what it was. A khajiit, large by standards with a blood soaked coat and a rabid look in his eyes. Determined to end the things life Xerca extended his right hand towards the charging beast, in a flash of light a bolt of thunder wrapped around the khajiit and began to set fire to the beasts fur. It squealed and roared in pain, with each breath it took one step closer.

Xerca watched with wide eyes as the monster came closer still, the lightning still caging the monsters chest, he couldn't understand how this thing could endure the most unimaginable pain. Instantly he raised his hand again and shot a ball of thunder towards the creature, the bolt slammed into the monsters head and killed it instantly, a sigh escaped Xerca's lips. It took Xerca a few seconds to realise the fight was over and even then he stared in shock at the dead corpse. "What was that?" He asked himself, the thought passed and he quickly looked around him to see if there were anymore, confident that he was alone he quickly hurried back inside his hut, he grabbed his thick brown travel robe and his staff and began to walk back outside.

Xerca looked around him, the small village that was built near what remained of Fort Moonmoth was in ruins, dead corpses littered the floor; some of them were more monsters, of all races but yet different. Xerca knelt beside one of them and inspected it closely: The body was the same, yet the eyes were different, they were full of anger and the teeth were dented and cracked. A concerned look brought itself upon him as he realised the danger he may be in.