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#Post#: 393--------------------------------------------------
Tarvyn Dralor: Caught in the Web (R)
By: Callidus Thorn Date: April 28, 2014, 4:32 am
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I'm gonna throw this up under an "R" rating
It doesn't warrant it yet, but it will.
Here goes nothing...
Prologue
As the sun sets on Cyrodiil, washing the sky with its myriad
gentle hues, forces gather within the Imperial City.
As the shadows deepen across the figures swathed in hooded robes
make their way to access points to the sewers. Others, clad in
the same robes, conceal themselves in shadowed alleys. They have
been arriving in the city for days, and will quit the city
tonight, through forgotten passages beneath the streets. For
months they have prepared, finding secret ways lost to memory,
and tonight they will exploit them to terrifying effect. They
speak as little as possible to each other, though most intone
prayers in near-silent whispers as they ready themselves for
what is to come. The citizenry carry on about their business as
usual, blind to goings on that didn't concern them, and those
few that did catch a glimpse of the figures are quietly dealt
with.
The heart of the Imperial City, White Gold Tower, buzzes with
activity. A score of heavily armoured men and women prepare
themselves for battle, checking the buckles of their armour and
the edges of their blades. They are silent and serious, grim
countenances dwelling on the thought of what is to come. Word
has reached them that their brothers and sisters have failed in
their duties, and each of them swears anew the oaths they took
when they were granted their posts. They know the weight of
responsibility that falls on them, heavier than the armour they
bear, but they take pride in knowing that they are trusted
beyond all others with this duty. They know too the cost of
failure, and that thought weighs upon them heavier still,
letting fear and doubt gnaw at the edges of their minds.
The Imperial City Prison, on the other hand, is still. The only
sounds to be heard are the guards drilling outside, the gentle
lapping of the waves from the lake, and the whispering breeze.
The prisoners are oblivious to the preparations throughout the
city, though one among them has been patiently waiting for such
events, not that he imagined they would be so severe. He sits
calmly in his cell, on a rough stool pulled towards the far wall
of his cell, leaning back against it. His arms are folded across
his chest, and he rest his feet casually upon the rickety table,
beside his jug of water. The feeble torch by the gate fails to
light the cell fully, leaving his corner darkened, his face
swathed in shadow. Only his eyes are visible, gleaming crimson
in the darkness. Though his face is cloaked in darkness, robbing
it of expression, the prisoner exudes an air of calm, the surety
of one who knows he is exactly where he needs to be, even if he
doesn't know why.
And above him, in the dark corner where walls meet ceiling, a
spider sits in its web, patiently waiting for flies to blunder
into it and become ensnared...
#Post#: 558--------------------------------------------------
Re: Tarvyn Dralor: Caught in the Web
By: McBadgere Date: April 29, 2014, 7:23 am
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As I said elsewhere, I love this...
The atmosphere you create; the tension and the waiting...Proper
brilliant...
The only thing I wondered...And I'm not sure I noticed in the
other one but forgot to say...
[quote]The only sounds to be heard are the guards drilling
outside
[/quote]
Made me instantly think of blokes leaning on powertools...
Perhaps,
[quote]
The only sounds to be heard are the guards running through their
martial excercises outside....[/quote]
Dunno, just something that stood out for me, is all... ;D ....
An excellent story...
Love it!!...
Nice one!!...
*Applauds heartily*...
#Post#: 563--------------------------------------------------
Re: Tarvyn Dralor: Caught in the Web
By: Callidus Thorn Date: April 29, 2014, 8:40 am
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Thanks McB. Even if I could edit it(there's a time limit on
editing posts here) I'd still let the original wording stand.
The way I see it it's a question of context, and I don't see a
need to try to avoid non-contextual associations.
Right, now onto the story proper...
Chapter 1, Part 1
The cell stinks. It's cold, damp, and filthy. The bed is little
more than a blanket over stone, and the table and chair provided
for civility are poorly made and covered in splinters. None of
this bothers Tarvyn. He sits amid the squalor as if he were
relaxing in a tavern, much to the bewilderment of the guards.
Tarvyn has been in the cell for five days now, and by this point
the guards have given up on insulting and beating him. Even
Valen Dreth, the spiteful Dunmeri prisoner in the cell opposite,
failed to make an impression on the enigmatic prisoner. Were it
not for the shadows concealing Tarvyn's face his smile would
mock them all. He leans back against the wall, as if oblivious
to his surroundings, and watches the thin shaft of light as it
saunters across his cell.
Time passes...
The sound of armoured footfalls echoed down the stairs. Tarvyn's
eyes flicker open, and he strained his ears to make out the
faint voices accompanying them. He couldn't hear the words
clearly, but he heard the voices. The first was female, her
voice taut with tightly reined fear and anxiety. The other was
that of an old man; tired, and carrying an undertone of
resignation. The voices grew louder as they made their way down
the stairs, but Tarvyn had stopped paying attention to them.
Instead he listened to the footsteps, counting the steps, the
timing, trying to discern how many approach.
Two ornately armoured figures appear before Tarvyn's cell. The
first was a woman, Breton or Imperial, Tarvyn couldn't tell, but
she was too short and slender to be a Nord. Beside her was a
Redguard, brow furrowed and eyes filled with anger. And behind
them, in robes even more ornate than the armour of his
companions, stood the old man. This close Tarvyn saw the
weariness in him, the tired eyes, the resigned slump of his
shoulders. Before him Tarvyn saw a man who knew he was marching
to his death, and that all hope has fled.
The door above slammed shut, and a third pair of heavy boots
thundered down the steps. Another Redguard, breathing heavily
and sweating from exertion. “Captain, the rearguard hold the
gate, and will fall back to the bridge when they need to, but
they cannot hold for long.”
“Understood.” She looked to the other Redguard. “Glenroy. Get
that door open.”
It wasn't until Glenroy opened the door that they noticed
Tarvyn, half concealed by shadows and still as the wall at his
back. The Captain drew her sword. “What's this prisoner doing
here? This cell is supposed to be off-limits. Never mind.
Glenroy, make sure he doesn't move.”
Glenroy immediately stepped forward, drawing his blade and
levelling it at where he guessed Tarvyn's throat to be, “Don't
move prisoner. Try to stand and you'll hit the floor before you
find your feet.” Tarvyn made no response, but his smouldering
crimson eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and Glenroy spat at the
indifference he found there.
The Captain slammed the pommel of her blade against a
nondescript stone in the wall of the cell, and a section of it
behind Tarvyn's 'bed' swung away on hinges, creaking and
groaning from disuse. The Captain waved the other Redguard
forward, along with the old man. “Sire, we haven't much time.”
The old man's gaze, however, was locked on Tarvyn. “Who are you,
prisoner? And why are you here, of all places, on this night?”
The old man stood between Tarvyn and the torch, leaving his face
as shadowed as Tarvyn's, only his eyes visible. Tarvyn met his
gaze, and beneath the sorrow and resignation that filled those
blue eyes, caught a flicker of something else. For an instant
Tarvyn could have sworn he saw fire in those eyes, as if they
looked upon flames and reflected them.
“I am, like you, caught in the web of another. My crime is
murder. I killed a soldier of the Legion.”
Glenroy scoffed. “How could a wretch like you kill a
Legionnaire?”
“With ease. I walked up behind him and slit his throat.”
“Hmph. So you're a coward as well. How far did you run before
you were caught, craven scum?”
“I didn't run. I stood over the body until I was arrested and
brought here.”
Glenroy was completely thrown by that, and his face crumpled in
confusion as he tried to make sense of it. Before he could reply
the old man asked “Why would you kill one of my Legionnaires,
and then wait to be caught?”
Tarvyn did not meet the old man's gaze as he replied. “Because
those were my instructions.”
The Captain cut off any reply the old man might have had. “Sire.
We don't have time for this, we need to get out of here now.
Glenroy, execute the prisoner, he knows about the passage.”
Glenroy smiled coldly as he raised his blade to strike.
But the old man caught Glenroy by the arm, arresting his swing.
“No, Glenroy, do not kill him. He is not here by chance, some
agency guided his steps. Perhaps to help, perhaps to hinder,
perhaps simply to watch. Until we know, Glenroy, stay your
blade.”
Despite the obvious deference of the three to the old man,
Glenroy tried to argue the point. “But sire, he might be working
with the enemy. Why else would he be in this cell, on this
night?”
“Will you kill any whom you do not trust, Glenroy? I'll not have
my Blades stained with the blood of innocents.” He turned to the
Captain. “He comes with us.”
“Your will, sire. On your feet prisoner.” Tarvyn rose from his
seat and stretched languidly, shaking the lethargy from his
limbs while the Captain spoke to the others. “Sire, follow me,
Glenroy, Baurus, You come next. Let the prisoner follow, but
keep him behind you.” She threw a dark glance Tarvyn's way “Is
that understood, prisoner?” Then she turned and started off down
the tunnel, not waiting for a response. As they passed through
the doorway the Captain slammed the pommel of her sword into
another nondescript stone, and the passageway swung shut behind
them, slowly enough for Tarvyn to get through without rushing.
The darkness swallowed them. The rough rock tunnel gave way to a
corridor of well finished white stone, and light seemed to
filter down from above. Instinct and training screamed at Tarvyn
to move with stealth, to cling to the shadows and hang back from
the heavily armoured guards. Tarvyn smiled and fell back on his
training, his footfalls no more than whispers drowned out by the
clash of armour ahead. He stuck close to the walls, almost
scraping along them as he went, to minimise any silhouette he
might cast. He did not know what might await them, but his
teachers had spent hours drilling into him the knowledge that
caution was its own reward.
The passageway led out into a larger chamber, with raised
platforms to either side and a pair of short staircases leading
down towards a door. The pale stone of the walls caught the
feeble light that filtered in from above and threw it about the
room, seeming to deepen shadows rather than dispel them. The
Captain raised a hand and Glenroy and Baurus stopped, one
standing before the old man, the other behind. Tarvyn stopped
also, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder, checking that
the wall behind did not leave him silhouetted. If there was a
threat here he wanted it unaware of his presence. The Captain
advanced towards the stairs alone, her head turning this way and
that as she searched for potential threats. Finding none, she
turned to wave the others forward.
That was when the shadows fell on her.
Three figures leapt from the darkness above, magic wreathing
their bodies as armour congealed around them, called forth from
the waters of Oblivion. Maces likewise materialised in their
hands, and the three pounced upon the Captain, laying her low in
a flurry of frenzied blows. Her cries of pain and rage were all
but lost amidst the hammering of maces on steel, but the sharp
crack of the blow that snapped her head round rang out above the
din. She fell limply to the ground, dead long before she hit.
Baurus and Glenroy surged forwards, their blades flowing through
graceful, powerful strokes that left the attackers reeling
backwards under the assault. The training of the Redguards
showed as they outclassed the assailants, battering aside their
maces and laying them open from shoulder to hip with smooth,
sweeping slashes.
Glenroy didn't bother checking to see if the Captain was still
alive. “Baurus, take point, I'll cover the rear.” Baurus opened
the door below and stepped through, followed a moment later by
the old man. Glenory waited by the door as Tarvyn approached,
and as Tarvyn approached the door, struck him across the face
with the pommel of his sword. Tarvyn fought to keep awake as
blackness gnawed at the corners of his vision, and heard the
Redguard speak. “I hope you rot in here, murderous scum.” Tarvyn
heard the door close, and the squeal of a key turning in an
ill-treated lock, and knew he was trapped.
#Post#: 609--------------------------------------------------
Re: Tarvyn Dralor: Caught in the Web
By: Elisabeth Hollow Date: April 29, 2014, 10:39 am
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I can't wait for two more chapters (I read the third already)
:D
#Post#: 611--------------------------------------------------
Re: Tarvyn Dralor: Caught in the Web
By: Callidus Thorn Date: April 29, 2014, 11:35 am
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Well since you've posted Liz, I can put up the next part so I'm
all caught up :D And the part after this is ready to go too ;D
Chapter 1 Part 2
Tarvyn slowly forced himself to his feet, still reeling from the
blow, and staggered over to the bodies of the assailants. Their
armour and weapons had disappeared, leaving them dressed in dark
red robes. Tarvyn searched the bodies anyway. As he expected,
they carried no weapons, not even daggers, though they did at
least carry some potions, though most of the vials had been
shattered during the fight. His hand itched for the feel of a
weapon, so he moved on to search the Captain's body.
The Captain's blade had skittered away as she fell, but Tarvyn
had no experience with blades of that sort. Long blades like
that were harder to conceal, slower to swing, and relied on a
different style of fighting. His search of the body turned up a
weapon more to his liking. On the Captain's left hip was a
second scabbard, which held a shorter steel blade. Either she
carried it as a backup weapon, or she had been trained to fight
with a blade in each hand, Tarvyn would never know. He removed
the scabbard and belted it around his waist. Then, driven by an
urge he couldn't explain, he picked up her fallen sword and
placed it in her hands, closing her lifeless fingers about the
hilt as best he could.
With that done, Tarvyn searched the chamber, pausing
occasionally to lean against the walls and steady himself as the
ground seemed to shift beneath him at odd intervals. The door
before him was locked, and even if he could find the right stone
to press to open the door to his cell, it wouldn't help much. He
briefly entertained the notion of attempting to reach the door
the attackers must have entered through, but though his
dizziness was passing he doubted he could make the climb. The
walls were immaculately crafted, the the only flaws in the
stonework the product of age rather than poor workmanship.
Desperation forced him to dwell on the idea even longer, until
the sounds of something crumbling caught his attention. He
turned towards its source just as, with a triumphant squeak, a
section of the wall caved outwards and a rat burst through.
Again, Tarvyn's training leapt to the fore. Where his earlier
actions had been guided by the teachings of the Morag Tong, now
the lessons of House Telvanni made their presence felt. Magic
surged down his arm, and fire leapt from his fingertips towards
the rat. It was only a basic flare spell, designed as a signal
rather than a weapon, but was still powerful enough to be used
as such in an emergency. The rat was caught in the midsection
before it could lunge at Tarvyn, and was hurled backwards by the
flare, smouldering as it rolled to a halt. A second flare
dispatched another rat that was scampering towards the hole in
the wall, and Tarvyn moved through the hole in the wall, the
only path left to him.
The darkness in the chamber was near absolute, only a thin shaft
of light from above providing any illumination, and that only
revealed a skeleton clad in old leather armour. Before Tarvyn
could look closer, he heard a scuffling from behind him. He
turned, but saw only blackness. He raised his hand to cast a
spell of detect life, but each time he tried the spell slipped
from his mind, no doubt the legacy of Glenroy's blow to the
head. He was forced to launch a pair of flares to peel back the
darkness momentarily, and then a third to char the rat as it
threw itself at him.
Now free of distraction, Tarvyn returned his attention to the
skeleton. Beside it lay an old bow, weakened by age and
exposure, and Tarvyn smiled. They might be old, but could simple
chance have left them there? Within an hour of leaving his cell
he now had armour, a shortsword, a bow, and a quiver full of
arrows. Mephala's Web, it seemed, was long in the spinning. A
pouch on the skeleton's belt even contained some lockpicks,
which Tarvyn immediately put to use; first on the battered
wooden chest near the bones, then on the locked door, moving
deeper into the tunnels.
Tarvyn stalked through the darkness, clinging to the shadows,
and slaying all he came across. Rats, goblins, even a zombie
fell to arrows and flares fired from within Tarvyn's sable
cloak.
He had spent so long creeping through the darkness of the
tunnels that when he stumbled back into the corridors above the
relative brightness stunned him for a moment. Once more he was
surrounded by pale stonework, on a platform overlooking the old
man and his two remaining guards. Their armour was battered and
plastered with blood, though little of it seemed to be their
own, and several robed figures lay dead around the chamber.
Smiling grimly, Tarvyn sat on the edge of his platform, and slid
off to the floor below.
He landed softly, knees bending to absorb the impact, but
Glenroy heard him and spun at the sound. “You again! I should
have killed you, murderous wretch.” Blade in hand, Glenroy
advanced on Tarvyn, only to come up short as the old man's voice
rang out.
“Glenroy. I told you before that the prisoner is not to be
harmed. You would disobey your Emperor?” Tarvyn's eyes widened a
little in shock. He'd known the old man was important, but had
figured him to be some wealthy noble fleeing the Capital. He
shook his head ruefully, what had Mephala dropped him into?
“No sire. But this scum cannot be trusted. He might be working
with-”
“Enough, Glenroy. I'll not have blood shed from suspicion alone.
The enemy are all around us, they attack with no regard for
their own lives, like fanatics. They know secret ways lost even
to the Blades, and they have already slain my sons. What need
have they for one placed at my side, when they have dozens
willing to trade their lives for mine? This Dunmer is here with
purpose, and I would know what it is.” The Emperor turned to
Tarvyn, and continued. “What is your name prisoner? And why are
you here?”
Tarvyn, suddenly feeling weary under the weight of that gaze,
sat down on the floor, leaning his back against a broken pillar.
“My name is Tarvyn Dralor. And as I said before, I am like you,
sire, caught in the web of another.”
The Emperor smiled at that. “That does not truly answer my
question Tarvyn Dralor, any more than it did back in your cell.
How came you to be in that cell? Not your crime, but the reason
for it.”
Tarvyn sighed heavily. “That will require a longer explanation
sire. One I do not believe we have time for.”
“We have a little time left to us. And though my Blades would
never speak it, they would welcome a break from the fighting.
Tell your tale Tarvyn.”
“As you wish, sire. I came here from Vvardenfell, where I was a
member of both the Morag Tong and of Great House Telvanni. I was
only a low ranking member of each of them, so it was not frowned
upon. Had I sought to rise through the ranks then a choice would
have been forced upon me, but as long as I remained where I was
my dual allegiances were tolerated. House Telvanni had long kept
ties with the Morag Tong, having more use for them than all the
other Great Houses save perhaps Hlaalu. And for their part, the
Morag Tong discretely encouraged its members to learn a degree
of magic, and preferred them to learn from a Dunmeri
institution.
The Morag Tong worshipped Vivec, first and foremost. The Temple
taught that each of the Tribunal was preceded by an
Anticipation, one of the Good Daedra who shaped Dunmeri society
before Almsivi. So the Morag Tong held Mephala in the highest
regard, even if we did not worship her directly.
Then the Nerevarine came.
The Tribunal were revealed as false gods, and were cast down,
save Vivec, who instead lent aid to the Nerevarine. Maybe Vivec
recognised that he could not defeat Dagoth Ur. Maybe the stories
whispered beyond the hearing of those of the Temple are to be
believed, and he wished to atone for his past actions. For
whatever reason he helped the Nerevarine, was spared the fate of
Sotha Sil and Almalexia, and disappeared. Though he is still
widely respected, even in his absence.
When the Nerevarine revealed the Tribunal to be false gods, some
of us began to turn back to The Anticipations; Azura, Boethiah,
and Mephala. In the six years since the fall of the Tribunal,
word spread that the Empire had delivered the Nerevarine to
Vvardenfell, and had played a role in events. I felt that a debt
was owed to the Empire, though others said it was just the
Empire looking for leverage in Morrowind. Whether the motives
were good or ill, the Empire played a role in the defeat of
Dagoth Ur.
For months struggled with my thoughts. The debt could not be
repaid in Vvardenfell, but how could I leave blindly for
Cyrodiil, not knowing what I could do there? Eventually I turned
elsewhere for answers. I made my way to the shrine of Mephala,
the closest and most accessible of the Three, and there sought
guidance. Mephala spoke to me, and I followed her instructions,
though they ended with my imprisonment.”
“And you know nothing of why she sent you?”
“What does a piece on the gameboard know of the mind that placed
it? Or a dagger of the one who wields it? In this I am but a
tool, placed in the web without guidance, to act as I feel I
must.”
“And how do you feel you must act?” The Emperor asked, an
enigmatic grin bringing a faint sparkle to his eyes amid the
gloom.
“As I said, sire. I feel a debt is owed to the Empire.”
“Then you shall be given a chance to repay that debt, this very
night, I think. Now come, our time here is nearly up.”
“Where are we going sire?”
The Emperor leaned in closer, his next words little more than a
whisper. “You know the answer Tarvyn, at least as much as I do.
I saw that in your eyes when we first met. You know I go to my
grave, called by a tongue shriller than all the music. Where you
go from here I cannot say. My dreams of days ahead end this
night, and all that I see now is fire and death.” And with that
the Emperor called over his Blades and they set off, Glenroy
leading, Baurus remaining between Tarvyn and the Emperor.
#Post#: 1100--------------------------------------------------
Re: Tarvyn Dralor: Caught in the Web (R)
By: Callidus Thorn Date: May 1, 2014, 4:40 am
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And now for the next part:D
Chapter 1 Part 3
Time and again they were attacked by more of the would-be
assassins, charging from the shadows in their infernal armour.
And each time they were cut down by the Blades, their skill more
than making up for their lack of numbers. Tarvyn hung back from
the fighting, his rusted bow of little use against the
attackers. The swift, fluid fighting style of the Blades left
little opportunity for shooting into the melee anyway. He was
more likely to hit a Blade than a foe, and while the arrow
likely couldn't penetrate their armour, the distraction could
prove fatal.
Even the Emperor had drawn his blade, a beautifully crafted
silver shortsword that seemed to reflect more light than it
should. Such was the skill of his Blades that he never had to
shed blood with it, and the three made steady progress, Tarvyn
stalking the shadows behind them.
But even as they advanced Tarvyn had the sense of a noose
tightening around them. The Morag Tong didn't typically rely on
trapping targets, but there were times it was necessary. And
members had fallen victim to them in the past, so all were
taught to recognise and evade them. But Tarvyn could see no way
out of this one. The Blades were limited to a single path, while
the assassins were able to attack from seemingly anywhere. Yet
they seemed reluctant to press their advantage when they did,
only a handful of them attacking at any one time. Tarvyn
suspected the attacks were simply to hurry them along, rather
than genuine attempts on the Emperor's life.
Nowhere did that become more clear than as they approached the
entrance to the sewers, the last stage of the escape route.
There they found the gate barred against them, and a metallic
squeal from behind them left no doubt that they were trapped.
There was only a single path open to them, leading to a single
room, with no other exit. Tarvyn waited there with the Emperor
while the Blades took up position before the doorway, resolving
to hold out until help arrived. Or failing that, to take as many
of the foe with them as possible before death claimed them.
Tarvyn stood at the entrance to the room, waiting for the subtle
shifts in the darkness that revealed movement, watching the
shadows out of the corners of his eyes. The attackers seemed to
come from everywhere, dropping from upper levels all around the
Blades. Clad in armour and wielding maces still dripping the
magics that summoned them, they rushed to the attack. The Blades
stood their ground, facing the mad rush with implacable resolve.
Tarvyn watched them fight, as much of it as he could make out in
the gloom. Their blades flashed through swift slashes, catching
what little light there was in a dazzling display of skill. But
even such well trained guardians could not stand forever against
the sheer weight of numbers their assailants brought to bear.
Though more than a dozen lay slain at their feet, more and more
rushed to join the fray, and the Blades were forced onto the
defensive as the fight wore on. But still they stood their
ground before the passageway, fighting back to back, their
blades weaving a lethal web of razor-edged steel around them.
But for all their skill, blows still rained upon their armour,
and when one lucky swing glanced off Glenroy's helm, he faltered
for just a moment, missing a parry. The blow crashed into his
shoulder, his armour screaming as the force of the blow tore it
asunder. Glenroy roared, more from rage than pain, as the blade
fell from his grip, his mauled arm no longer able to hold it.
Fuelled by fury and adrenaline, his good arm shot out and
gripped one of the attackers by the throat, crushing the life
from him even as he was overwhelmed.
Tarvyn suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to face
the Emperor, and was astonished by how calm he seemed. The
Emperor reached into his robes and withdrew an amulet, a vast
red jewel on a golden chain, and handed it to Tarvyn. “My time
is ended Tarvyn, but there is yet one who may take my place.
Take my Amulet to Jauffre, tell him to find my secret son. This
is why you are here Tarvyn. Deliver the Amulet, and count your
debt fulfilled.”
No sooner had he finished speaking than another of the attackers
burst through the wall behind him, the truth of the trap finally
revealed. Unlike the others he wielded a dagger, and in a single
smooth movement darted forward and plunged it into the Emperor's
back. The Emperor's final breath gurgled from his throat as his
eyes fixed on Tarvyn, imploring him to follow his last command.
The assassin withdrew his dagger and stepped towards Tarvyn.
Before Tarvyn could even begin to move Baurus was there,
knocking the dagger aside before his return stroke buried his
blade deep in the assassin's neck. The body collapsed, taking
Baurus' blade with it as the sight of the Emperor's body robbed
him of his strength.
Baurus stumbled over to the Emperor's side before his knees
buckled, almost pitching him to the floor, tears of shame and
grief rolling down his cheeks. “We've failed.... I've failed.”
He said, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he lacked even
the strength to speak. Then a thought shook him from his torpor,
and he began searching the Emperor's robes, before turning to
Tarvyn. “The Amulet of Kings? Where is it?”
Tarvyn showed Baurus the Amulet and told him of the Emperor's
last words.
“Another son? Then there's still hope. You must follow the
Emperor's orders. Jauffre is the Grandmaster of the Blades, you
will find him at Weynon Priory, near Chorrol.”
“I'm new to Cyrodiil, where's Chorrol?”
“It lies north-west of the Imperial City. The exit from the
sewers will put you on the east side of City Isle, the main
bridge leading to the city gates is on the west side. Use that
to get your bearings, and look for the road signs, it's the best
way to get avoid getting lost. But at all costs, stay off the
roads, they will not be safe this night, for you more than any.”
Baurus reached into a pouch at his belt and handed Tarvyn a key.
“This will open the door to the sewers, but before you go there
is something I must tell you. You must have wondered why there
were only three of us to defend the Emperor? What you have seen
this night is only a fraction of what has led us here. Listen
well, Tarvyn...”
#Post#: 1287--------------------------------------------------
Re: Tarvyn Dralor: Caught in the Web (R)
By: Elisabeth Hollow Date: May 1, 2014, 5:00 pm
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Okay, I really like how you explained why they MD only attacked
a few at a time. I myself never understood that, and am
impressed with that reasoning.
#Post#: 1534--------------------------------------------------
Re: Tarvyn Dralor: Caught in the Web (R)
By: McBadgere Date: May 3, 2014, 10:00 pm
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Urgh...Three-fer... :D ...
Reading the whole of the bits I got left behind on again was
pretty awesome, actually...
This is a really well written story, and I'm really enjoying the
way you're doing
it...
HTML http://chorrol.com/forums/style_emoticons/sinders/goodjob.gif...
All of the characters have been fleshed out more than the
game...Even the brief appearance of Renault...
Your writing is awesome, Well done...
Nice one!!...
*Applauds heartily*...
#Post#: 1568--------------------------------------------------
Re: Tarvyn Dralor: Caught in the Web (R)
By: Callidus Thorn Date: May 4, 2014, 3:28 am
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Thanks guys, sorry I'm not out of the sewers yet, the whole
thing kind of ranaway with me. And then veered off completely
for this next bit. :D
Baurus' Tale
“The Blades are not mere bodyguards. Those of my order, the
Order of Talos, are trained to defend the Emperor and his
family. We are drawn from the Legion, chosen both for our skills
and our loyalty, and sworn to serve the Emperor above all. With
steel and sinew we defend the Dragon Blood, against any and all
threats. Only the best of my order are chosen to serve in the
Emperor's Guard, and there is no higher honour among the Blades,
and no weightier duty. But we are not the only Order of the
Blades.
The Order of Zenithar serve as diplomats and ambassadors, and
the Orders of Kynareth and Julianos make up the remaining number
of Blades; covert agents. Some to discover threats, others to
remove them. These agents are spread throughout Tamriel, a
clandestine net, ever vigilant for threats to the Empire. The
agents report to the Spymaster, who in turn reports to Jauffre,
Head of the Order of Talos, and Grandmaster of the Blades.
Copies of those reports would then be sent to the Captain of the
Emperor's Guard, so that we were not taken by surprise. It is
only because of this that we knew the scale of what was coming.
Our agents began to find hints, minor things, but enough of them
to suggest something was at work. More agents were sent to
investigate, but they found little more before disappearing.
Others were sent after them, but they too, vanished. Any agent
that went looking for them, or for some clue as to those behind
it, were never heard from again. Something was moving against
us, and we couldn't even find out what it was. But while we knew
nothing of them, it soon became clear they knew a great deal of
us.
A week ago, we received word that the Spymaster had been
assassinated. The grandmaster immediately had already begun to
take action, moving the Emperor's heirs to secure locations,
estates in the countryside where they would be easier to defend.
Few knew of them, so prying eyes could be seen easier than in
the cities. Grandmaster Jauffre decided nowhere in Cyrodiil was
safe for the Emperor, save among the Blades, but he dared not
move the Emperor, not yet. Leaving the Imperial City could not
be done discreetly, not without preparation. Messages were sent
to trusted Legion Commanders, patrol routes were adjusted, but
we were running out of time. While the Grandmaster arranged
this, our covert network in Cyrodiil was shredded, and within
four days nearly all our agents had been eliminated.
That was when they went after the Emperor's sons. One by one
they were murdered, along with the Blades who defended them. It
was only the last remnants of our network that brought word to
the Grandmaster, but word did not reach us of this. Until
tonight not one message reached us. Captain Renault knew
something was wrong, but did not want to act blindly. But when a
messenger reached us tonight, half dead and carrying the news of
the deaths of the Emperor's sons, her hand was forced.
'The time for discretion has passed', she told us, and so we
escorted the Emperor from the Palace. A score of heavily
armoured figures surrounding the Emperor, a steel-clad wall of
bodies marching through the streets of the Imperial City, swords
drawn. The citizens fled at the sight of us, and Legionnaires
raced to report to their Captains. By the time we reached the
Talos Plaza district, half the city likely knew the Emperor was
departing. Not that it mattered, not once we reached Talos
Plaza.
They came out of the shadows, silently darting from darkened
alleyways and striking without warning. A dozen of them fell
upon us from the rear, and three of us fell before we slew the
attackers. From that moment on, every step carried a price in
blood, ours or theirs. When we saw the main gate held against
us, the bodies of Legion Soldiers in pools of blood before it,
the Captain ordered us to the Elven Gardens District. We cut our
way through, losing two more of our number, but gaining a dozen
Legionnaires along the way.
The Elven Gardens were no safer than Talos Plaza had been. They
harried us constantly, anywhere from three to six of them at a
time. Four of us; the Captain, another Breton named Jhared,
Glenroy, and myself kept back from the fighting, shielding the
Emperor with our bodies in case they had archers with them.
Following the Captain's orders, we fought our way across Elven
Gardens, leaving a crimson trail studded with bodies, both ours
and theirs.
The Market District was even worse. Half the Legionnaires were
cut down within moments, lacking our extensive training, and
still more attackers charged us. They grew more and more
frenzied as we pushed onwards, harrying us from the sides and
rear. At the time we thought we were succeeding, but now that
seems folly. They herded us towards the prison. The Captain
ordered the rest to stand rearguard, and hold as long as
possible, while we escorted the Emperor inside. From there you
know our tale. I doubt any of the others survived, not against
those numbers."
As Baurus' voice trailed off, Tarvyn remained silent. Baurus had
the look of a man stretched to the point of breaking, and he
simply didn't know what to say. For long moments Baurus stared
at the Emperor's body, as though it were the only thing in the
world. Perhaps to him, it was. Then without warning Baurus
surged to his feet, scooping up his katana, and turned to face
Tarvyn.
“Nearly a score of us, all dead, and still we failed. Yet you
survive, when so many fell. The Emperor was right to spare you,
Tarvyn Dralor. Now go, I will wait with the Emperor, and should
any seek to follow you, I will do what I can. Go.”
#Post#: 1888--------------------------------------------------
Re: Tarvyn Dralor: Caught in the Web (R)
By: McBadgere Date: May 5, 2014, 3:35 am
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See other place for details, but stop worrying about how long
anything takes...There's no clock on you, other than the one you
put on yourself...
Absolutely brilliant writing, thoroughly enjoyed reading how the
Blades got wiped out...Oh, wait...No, that's not what I
meant...You wrote the destruction of the Blades brilliantly, and
this meant that I enjoyed the piece...Yes...
The flight across the city was nicely handled...Very tense and
excellent...
Nice one Thorny-Boy!!!...
*Applauds heartily*...
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