The Unlikely Incarnate

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The Unlikely Incarnate; The Tale of Iocus Magna
Topic Started: Apr 4 2009, 03:43 PM (336 Views)
The Bean	Apr 4 2009, 03:43 PM Post #1
Forum Kommisar Posts: 1,000 Group: Member Member #503 Joined: February 10, 2009	Okay, since everyone else seems to be doing a Nerevarine story I thought I'd jump on the bandwagon and do my own one, with a character who is rather different to the other ones knocking around. It probably won't be as long as the others around, but hopefully it will be as enjoyable to read. Oh, and don't worry Grey Knight fans, I'll have that going at the same time, too. The Unlikely Incarnate-The Tale of Iocus Magna Part 1-Hanging “Iocus Magna, I sentence you to be hanged by the neck until dead, for the charges of embezzlement, fraud, theft and the evasion of tax,” the judge announced, banging his gavel. There was a murmur around the courtroom as the crowd that had drifted in discussed the sentence. None of them knew me, and as far as I could tell they were glad to see me go-the idiots had lapped up every word the judge had said. My guard grabbed my shoulders and led me away from the courtroom, back to my cell in the Imperial Prison, where I would once again have to spend my night with whatever drunks the watch had dragged in. The guard holding me pulled me down the prison's corridor, surprisingly, to a different cell from the one I had been held in for the last few days. “Condemned cell,” he announced impassively. “Have a nice night.” It was comfier than the one I was in before-instead of wooden benches there were proper beds, and the jailers here had actually made a decent attempt at keeping the place clean. If it wasn't for the bars across the window and replacing a wall, it could almost have been a room in a good inn. On one of the beds, a Nord, was snoring loudly, a tray with a plate and a mug on it on the floor beside him. I guessed it was the man's last meal. I slumped down on one of the beds, thinking through the developments of the day. I felt numb-at the behest of a judge, no doubt being told to have me killed by whoever he answered to, I would be hung. I couldn't imagine a worse way to go, with a noose strangling the life out of you while you kicked uselessly, like some practice dummy in a breeze. “What're you in for?” It was the Nord, still on his bed, his voice cutting through the haze of my despair. “Well, lad?” “Me?” I asked. “I'm in for theft.” “Theft?” the Nord seemed puzzled. “Seems a bit harsh, doesn't it?” “Not when you con a tax collector out of two hundred thousand septims,” I replied. Strangely, the Nord laughed, and even stranger, I joined him, laughing hard for almost a full minute. After our burst of macabre hilarity had subsided, I asked; “You?” “Murder,” the Nord said. “I caught a man with my wife so I killed them both.” I wasn't surprised he'd done that-the Nord was built like a castle wall, and it wasn't hard to detect the palpable air of aggression surrounding him. He got up and extended a massive paw in my direction. “Sven Strongback,” he said. I shook it gingerly. “Iocus Magna,” I replied. I appreciated the gesture of companionship Sven offered, and suddenly felt better. I may well have had my last night in the company of a murderer, but at least it was company of some sort. We talked for the rest of the evening-Sven about his life in Bruma, and me about my childhood as an orphan in the Nibenay Basin, raised by a respectable adoptive family, and my constant obsession with getting some more coins to fill my purse. We ended up talking about just about everything we could. But we never talked about the hanging tomorrow. I reckon now that even Sven, with his attitude of aggressive bravado, feared his death. I didn't blame him. However big and muscular you were, there was nothing you could do when you began to dance the hemp fandango. That night, I barely slept, entertaining the thought of the hanging with a sick dread. Though when I did, I had the strangest dream. I was in a void, shrouded in complete blackness. There was no light, not even enough to see my body. I felt like a ghost, floating in the afterlife. Perhaps this was just a taster of what was to come? I didn't know. Then the voice came, ringing out from the darkness with such such clarity that it seemed to brighten the void around it. But then, it was a dream, and these strange things always seem to happen in dreams. “Do not fear, Iocus,” it said. “You shall have salvation.” Then the voice faded and I was left alone in the dark of unconsciousness. # The staccato drum beat of the warden's baton drumming across the bars of some poor bugger's cell woke me, as it did every day. I wiped sleep from my eyes, and then with a sick feeling of fear, remembered what day it was. The die I was destined to die. “Food's up, you two,” one of the guards said, holding a tray with two large sandwiches on it. “Enjoy it.” For a last meal, it could have been worse. Sven and I ate in silence, Sven devouring his sandwich like a wolf would, me taking slower bites, savoring the flavour of the bacon filling and hoping that I could somehow stave off the inevitable. But, true to form, the inevitable came. Sven and I were shackled and led from our cells, into the courtyard of the Imperial City prison. The gallows had been set up, and a sizable crowd had gathered to watch it. I had sweet talked one of the guards into getting me a copy of the Black Horse Courier, and I remembered that my trial was mentioned in the news scroll. I couldn't help but feel flattered that my crime was heinous enough for them to mention it. Still, two hundred thousand Septims was an awful lot of money. The drum that signaled the hanging began its slow, relentless beat, beaten by an blank faced man in cheap clothes. I saw a man prepare the nooses, sizing us up and making adjustments to his plaited ropes. So, that man was to be my executioner. Without a word, Sven and I were herded up the steps, and placed on a stool next to our respective nooses. “Do either of you have any last words to say?” a man dressed in the robes of a priest asked. “Any regrets?” “My only regret is I never got a chance to spend a penny of that money,” I announced, to a ripple of laughter. Despite my fear, I wasn't going to let the crowd see it. Give the people a show, that had always been my philosophy, and I wasn't going to abandon it now. The priest gave a disapproving frown, but then asked Sven the same question. He simply shook his head. “Very well then,” the priest said. “Let justice be given.” I wondered at how many times the priest had given this ceremony, before marveling at the brain's ability to distract itself from its imminent demise. I suppose I hadn't lived a bad life-comfort wise, of course. In the terms of morality, I had been mired in poverty, but I always managed to keep enough cash to get by and get on. And now, at the hands of a length of rope, I would die. I mentally corrected myself-rope didn't have hands. Just because I was about to die I wasn't going to allow sloppiness. Sven and I were stepped onto our stools after being prodded by a guard, and the nooses were fixed around our necks. The drum beat on. At a command, two guards, holding hammers, knocked our stools loose. At first, there was the feeling of my throat being grabbed, as I felt the noose constrict, before my vision began to be tinged by red as the blood in my head began to get cut off. Vaguely, I heard the priest give some sermon about how this was an example to all law breakers, and to all other sinners, but I wasn't really able to listen, for obvious reasons. Gradually, the thudding of my heart slowed. I didn't bother trying to breathe-it was pointless and for some odd reason I barely cared. Dying is a strange feeling. I didn't feel afraid now that it was happening, I could shut out the pain of the noose and felt strangely peaceful. Soon, my vision began to darken, the world become unfocused and the priest's sermon just faded. The blackness came slowly. I suppose I could describe it as similar to watching a snail crawl across a rock-you turned away for a minute and it had moved slightly. It wasn't surprising as such, just to be expected. Then the blackness descended fully and wiped everything out. Edited by The Bean, Apr 5 2009, 02:19 AM.



vanir90210	Apr 5 2009, 12:20 AM Post #2
Budding Lyricist Posts: 2,780 Group: Member Member #394 Joined: May 19, 2008	Very good. An interesting take on the Nerevarine's presence in prison. The only problem I have is that you said he didn't get to spend a 'penny of that cash'. I could be wrong, but I don't know if the have a unit of currency smaller than the Septim in Tamriel, nor am I sure if they use the term 'cash', but it's just nitpicking.
	Spoiler: click to toggle "I look at the eyes, straight to the soul doorway" Redsrock Dammit, Vanir...... I had an awesome daydream of me and Anne Hathaway on a private island. And then in the daydream you came in and murdered her, then asking for my hand in marriage.


The Bean	Apr 5 2009, 02:19 AM Post #3
Forum Kommisar Posts: 1,000 Group: Member Member #503 Joined: February 10, 2009	Well I believe penny is another term for coin, but I guess I can change cash to money. Thanks for commenting, Vanir.



Dark Slinkie	Apr 5 2009, 10:39 PM Post #4
Anubis, Lord of the council Posts: 1,284 Group: Member Member #501 Joined: February 3, 2009	He's dead? that was quick it's good, awaiting next chapter.
	Bloodbath, The Ultimate Battle For Survival The Rp of Thraksheir Thraksheir, land of magic


The Bean	Apr 6 2009, 02:32 AM Post #5
Forum Kommisar Posts: 1,000 Group: Member Member #503 Joined: February 10, 2009	Oh no, he isn't dead yet Slink. Not by a long way... Chapter 2-Dreams I was in a valley, its steep sides cutting off all view of the world outside them, and the only part you could see was, surprise, surprise, more valley. The ground was barren and dust-grey, with a few exotic looking rock formations scattered on the valley floor. Yet the most noticeable thing about the place was the ash. It whipped and stung as it was blown through the air on a howling wind, and was so thick it almost blotted out the sun, and a more distant light, one that tinged the sky red, and seemed to swell with threatening energy. Occasionally it rumbled threateningly. Where am I? I wondered. Am I dead? If this was the afterlife, I had to conclude that it was somewhat of a disappointment-from what I had learned from a various priests, the afterlife for sinners, one of which I most certainly was, was a place of fire, damnation and eternal torture. Unsurprisingly, I was relieved it was not the case. I took a quick glance around my surroundings again, before deciding to strike out along the valley, towards the strange light. Along the way, I noticed several hardy bushes and scrubs, clinging next to the rocks that protruded from the valley floor. Occasionally, a large and threatening shape swooped overhead, causing me to duck in fright. Then, a soft, blue glow permeated the redness of the sky and the darkness of the ash, and as I approached, it formed into a wall of shifting blue light. Cautiously, I touched it, and watched, fascinated, as it rippled like puddle would. I noticed letters form on it, symbols written in a language I couldn't understand, and I doubted anyone else would be able to. Then the voice that had haunted my dreams the night before my hanging spoke. “Iocus Magna,” it announced. “You have been taken from the Imperial Prison, first by carriage, and then by boat, to the east, to Morrowind. But fear not, for I shall guide you.” It faded, but the illegible writing remained. Then some of it shifted around, transforming into the words 'Many will fall, but one remains.' Then, the world faded into blackness, and a rocking feeling overwhelmed my body. By then I'd formed the opinion that being dead was a very odd experience indeed. “Wake up,” I heard someone say, in the characteristic rasping of a Dunmer. “You're shaking. Wake up!” A crack of light opened, and widened further, causing me to see a rather alarming looking Dunmer shaking me awake. His face was gnarled, and a deep scar bisected one half of his face. “Am I dead or not?” I asked immediately, somewhat startled, before suddenly clutching my throat and choking in shock. By the Nine, it hurt! “You're not dead,” the dark elf replied, shaking his head and laughing. “Far from it.” “Where am I, then?” I said, more quietly, so as not to awaken the sudden, throbbing pain in my throat. Could that be something to do with my hanging? “We're on a ship,” the dark elf said. “We're bound for Morrowind.” Morrowind? I remembered what the disembodied voice in my dreams had said about how I had been taken from the Imperial Prison. So did this mean I wasn't dead? And if I wasn't, then what on Nirn was going on? “What's your name then?” the dark elf asked. “I'm Jiub.” “Iocus,” I replied. “Iocus Magna.” So, was I really dead? Or was something else, something more sinister, going on? The only real way to find out was to see where this, to be frank, utterly bizarre experience would go. “I overheard some of the guards talking,” Jiub said. “They said we've reached Morrowind. I'm sure they'll let us go.” I nodded in agreement, before a question sprang to mind. “Jiub, how long have I been asleep?” I asked. “Five days,” he said. “Maybe more-that's only how long we've been on the ship.” Had I been unconscious for five days? And was I really dead? I'd heard of a few religions that believed a soul was reborn into a new body after it had died, but I was skeptical about it happening this way. And I doubted that if I was dead I would have one hell of an ache in my neck and be feeling slightly seasick (boats and I have never gotten on). But what Jiub said about me coming from somewhere to the boat added up with what the strange voice in the dream had said. This was getting more and more mysterious by the minute-as soon as I found someone who had some answers, I was going to give them one hell of a grilling. “Enough chatter in there,” I heard someone call out from somewhere inside the boat, before a lantern, being held by a guard, appeared. He pointed at me. “You-you come with me.” Gingerly, I got to my feet-my time unconscious had left me weak as a kitten, but fortunately doing hard labour at the Imperial Prison had improved my fitness somewhat. Hopefully, after my muscles had recovered from their atrophic state, I would be as good as new. I followed the guard at a cautious walk, not trusting my legs to support me if I tried running. We went up a few stairs, along a dark, low wooden room of some sort that must have been the lower deck and then stopped at the stairs. “Up there, prisoner,” the guard said. “Don't try anything.” I wondered why the guard had to be so impolite, and exactly what made him think I would 'try something,' but made nothing more of the issue as I cautiously climbed up the steps and blinked in the bright sunlight as I opened the hatch. The air that blew forth was salty, and smelt rather muddy, but compared to the stale air of the prison I had been staying in for the last few weeks, it was quite possibly one of the finest scents I had ever smelt. “Head through down the walkway and speak to the guard there,” I heard someone say, rather more warmly than the guard had, and turned to see a redguard speaking. I can't say I am a massive fan of redguards-I'm no bigot, don't get me wrong, but they were honest and dependable, qualities that made them exceedingly hard to fool and that was always regarded as a black spot in my book. Waiting for me at the bottom of the gangplank was another guard, wearing the armour of an Imperial Legionnaire. “Follow me to the census office to get your papers signed and verified,” the guard said, sounding extremely bored. “Then you will receive your release fee.” I followed him to a bland office, to be greeted by an elderly man-either an imperial or a breton, by my guess. There were various papers to be filled out, the usual sort of rubbish-name, age, birth sign. I got through those fine, but the small, innocuous line marked trade gave me pause for thought for a moment-I guessed that 'professional conman' wouldn't go down terribly well with the legionnaire standing at the exit, so I settled on 'specialist merchant.' The census official checked the papers. “That seems to be correct,” he said. “Go through that door and speak to Sellus Gravius. He'll give you a package to deliver and your release fee.” I liked the sound of a release fee-money was always a nice thing to come by, and work meant more cash. I went to the door, the guard unlocking it, and was through it. A quick right turn later and I found myself in a storage room of some sort. There were a few items of value in there-some plates, a book, and most importantly a lockpick and a dagger. Once outside, I searched through another barrel, finding an old ring. It was a bit battered, but I could feel there was a healing charm of some sort on it-I guessed it could come in handy. I went into another outbuilding, where Sellus Gravius, dressed in an impressive suit of armour, handed me a package along with a small sack of gold coins. “I want you to deliver this to Caius Cosades in Balmora,” he said. “Don't try and tamper with it-there's some kind of enchantment on it or something, it'll make a mess of you. Ask Bacola Clocius about where Caius lives. He works at the South Wall Cornerclub.” “How can I get to Balmora?” I asked. “You can take the silt strider,” he said. I wondered what a silt strider was, but decided that I would find out in time. “That costs a bit, but it's quicker and safer than walking. Or you could just walk-the route's signposted, so as long as you stay on the path you ought to be fine.” I thanked him and left, out to the small town of Seyda Neen, and into the big, mean world of Vvardenfel. I think, to be honest, that we surprised eachother. Edited by The Bean, Apr 7 2009, 08:54 AM.



Dark Slinkie	Apr 6 2009, 07:35 AM Post #6
Anubis, Lord of the council Posts: 1,284 Group: Member Member #501 Joined: February 3, 2009	Good save beany. good save.
	Bloodbath, The Ultimate Battle For Survival The Rp of Thraksheir Thraksheir, land of magic


vanir90210	Apr 6 2009, 04:17 PM Post #7
Budding Lyricist Posts: 2,780 Group: Member Member #394 Joined: May 19, 2008	Good. Still only a couple minor mistakes, I counted a missing 'a', and when he asked how to get to Balmora, you should have put a question mark instead of a comma.
	Spoiler: click to toggle "I look at the eyes, straight to the soul doorway" Redsrock Dammit, Vanir...... I had an awesome daydream of me and Anne Hathaway on a private island. And then in the daydream you came in and murdered her, then asking for my hand in marriage.


The Bean	Apr 7 2009, 08:45 AM Post #8
Forum Kommisar Posts: 1,000 Group: Member Member #503 Joined: February 10, 2009	Ah right, I'll go and fix those now. But can I ask where the missing a was? After all, there are an awful lot of them in there.



vanir90210	Apr 7 2009, 04:06 PM Post #9
Budding Lyricist Posts: 2,780 Group: Member Member #394 Joined: May 19, 2008	Quote: as it rippled like puddle would
	Spoiler: click to toggle "I look at the eyes, straight to the soul doorway" Redsrock Dammit, Vanir...... I had an awesome daydream of me and Anne Hathaway on a private island. And then in the daydream you came in and murdered her, then asking for my hand in marriage.


The Bean	Apr 7 2009, 04:59 PM Post #10
Forum Kommisar Posts: 1,000 Group: Member Member #503 Joined: February 10, 2009	Ah cheers. I'll fix that now.



The Bean	Apr 13 2009, 01:36 PM Post #11
Forum Kommisar Posts: 1,000 Group: Member Member #503 Joined: February 10, 2009	Part 3-Seyda Neen I must confess that my first real sight of Vvardenfel was somewhat of an anti-climax. Seyda Neen, was, and still is, a complete dump. There are no two ways about it, sadly. Even the residents are willing to admit this. I really need to sort the place out sometime. However at the time, I had my attention occupied by something more pressing. Namely the gigantic insect standing just outside the town. While, in retrospect, it was quite amusing, the fear that gripped me upon seeing my first silt strider was genuinely one of the most distressing things I had felt in a long while. My face white with terror, I grabbed the shoulder of the guard standing next to the door of the census office and squeaked; “What's that?” The guard looked at me then burst out laughing. I will admit that so far the combination of being hurried off a ship, seeing an insect far bigger than any insects should be and then being laughed at was doing very little to improve my temper. “What the bloody hell is so funny?” I snapped. “Well?” The guard gave a grin and then said; “You're new to Vvardenfel, aren't you?” “Well yes I am,” I said. “And what's so damn hilarious about that?” “That there is the silt strider,” the guard said. “What they use to get around here. Not as fast as a horse but a damn sight safer.” “Right,” I said, somewhat snappishly. “Thank you.” I left the belligerent guard to his post and headed towards a building with a sign proclaiming it to be 'Arrile's Tradehouse.' Before I could reach it, I suddenly found myself accosted by a wood elf. “Excuse me sir,” the wood elf said. “But I was wandering if you had seen something of mine.” “Perhaps,” I said. “What were you looking for.” “A ring,” the elf said. At this point I shoved the ring I had found deeper into the pockets of my prison clothes. “It's an old heirloom of mine, and has a powerful healing enchantment.” I faked a voice of sincere concern and shook my head. “I'm afraid to say I've seen nothing of the sort,” I replied. “Though I'll make sure to keep my eyes open.” The wood elf thanked me for my time, and left looking disappointed. Now, I ask you not to judge me too harshly. I had only a two hundred coins to my name, a dagger that was so rusty it probably couldn't harm a fly and a few books and plates. I needed any gold I could lay my hands on desperately. With the elf out of the way, I entered the tradehouse, and found myself in a large and comfortable looking room. A large counter stocked with various weapons and traveling supplies occupied a large alcove, while a fire crackled merrily in a grate near the stairs. An elf at the counter looked up as I entered, and immediately adopted the kind of predatory smile that any tradesman adopted when he saw a customer. Well, I doubted he had rumbled with a customer like me for quite some time. “Welcome to Arille's Tradehouse,” the elf said. “I'm Arille, and how can I help you, sir?” “I was looking for a weapon,” I said. “You have anything?” “Look around you, sir,” Arille replied. “Tell me what you see.” “Weapons,” I said. “And good ones, by the look of them.” It always helped to butter merchants up before you bartered with them. “And perhaps sir could do with some clean clothes,” Arille said, glancing at the ones I had been given by the prisoners. “I'd be happy to supply you with some.” Arille was good at what he did, I'll give him that-constantly calling me 'sir' was a nice way to try and get on my good side. “So what weapons would sir be looking for?” Arille asked. “Something not to heavy,” I replied. “A sword of some sort, single handed, preferably.” I glanced around the racks of weaponry. “How about that sabre?” I asked. “An excellent choice,” Arille said. “Sir has quite an eye for weaponry, I see.” I was beginning to find being constantly called 'sir' a little silly and somewhat irritating. “It is made of the highest quality iron,” Arille continued. “I will admit, perhaps not the most powerful weapon around, but a sturdy and cost effective one if you're strapped for cash.” “How much?” I asked. “For you?” Arille said. “Just eighty gold pieces.” Fat chance, I thought. Let the haggling begin. “I'll give you fourty,” I said. “Fourty?” Arille exclaimed. “I wouldn't even make a profit on that!” “Well there's not way I'll pay eighty,” I replied. “Of course, I could just take my shiny gold elsewhere...” I left the unfinished statement to hang in the air like a threat. “Now sir, I can lower the price to some extent,” Arille said. “How does seventy sound.” I made a great show of thinking it through, before saying; “Fifty.” “Now, I can't lower it that far,” Arille said. “Why not?” I asked. “You can't have paid more than fourty for this.” “It was imported,” Arille answered. “I had to pay tax for it.” “Oh really,” I said slowly. I suddenly picked the sabre up and examined a 'B' embossed on its hilt. “What do you call this?” I showed Arille the symbol, who went a little pale. “That's the seal of Balmora, isn't it?” I asked innocuously. “Which means that it was made here, not imported. You lied to me Arille, and we all know how bad it could be for your reputation if people found out your were a liar.” Exactly how I knew what the town's seal looked like is unimportant, suffice to say that involved a complex scam, forged papers and mudcrabs. I'm still finding it hard to forget about the mudcrabs. “Look,” Arille said. An Adam's Apple had formed on his throat and was bobbing up and down in panic. “I'm sorry I lied, but if you keep this quiet I'll let you have it for fourty.” “Twenty,” I said. “What?” Arille said. “I can say that you're a liar to everyone in town and ruin you, or I can have it for twenty and keep this quiet.” “Alright,” Arille said, still looking worried. “Look, is there anything else you want?” “Some fresh clothes,” I said. “And a pack of cards.” # It turned out that Arille's Tradehouse also doubled as an inn, with a bar in the upstairs rooms. I headed up there to ply my trade. To do so, I needed a target to pick out from the various patrons. I spotted a Nord sitting alone at a table, and adopting one of my stand in guises of Ranard Tallis, a lovable loser who was useless with a pack of cards until his opponent got complacent and made mistakes. I didn't have the glasses needed to perfect the ruse, but I simply needed to adopt the expression of hopeless optimism and that was usually enough. I ordered a drink and sat down next to the Nord, engaging the man in small talk until my drink arrived. After a few more I steered the conversation to cards, and then challenged him to a game. An hour later I had earned one hundred gold pieces and my Nord opponent had gotten a bit too tipsy for my liking-while he was currently on the amiable, graceful loser stage of drunkeness, I had a feeling he would probably switch to the frothing at the mouth maniac stage any minute now. I collected my winnings and left the tavern, deciding to leave the Nord, who wished me a surprisingly cheerful farewell, to his own devices. I hurried over a wooden bridge that led out of the dismal town, and up to a hill to the silt strider platform. The driver there, a dunmer woman greeted me cheerfully. “Care to ride the silt strider,” she said. “I can take you almost anywhere in Vvardenfel.” “How much would a ride to Balmora cost?” I asked. The dunmer woman looked thoughtful for a moment and then said; “Thirteen septims.” It was a reasonable enough fare and I reached inside my purse to fish out the sum. After I had done so, she hopped into a hollow part of the massive insect's shell and then helped me aboard. She grabbed a whip from beside her seat and cracked it above the strider. With a deep and mournful moan, the strider began its walk to Balmora. I believe I mentioned earlier that boats and I have never mixed terribly well. For those of you have had the good fortune to never, ever ride on one, count yourself as a very lucky person for being unenlightened in such matters, and let me just say that it is at least ten times worse than any boat. At least with boats you can sometimes have smooth waters, and if you don't then at least you can retreat below decks to try and recover. Instead, all I could do was close my eyes and throw up. Edited by The Bean, Apr 15 2009, 04:34 AM.



Dark Slinkie	Apr 13 2009, 09:38 PM Post #12
Anubis, Lord of the council Posts: 1,284 Group: Member Member #501 Joined: February 3, 2009	i like this chapter.
	Bloodbath, The Ultimate Battle For Survival The Rp of Thraksheir Thraksheir, land of magic


vanir90210	Apr 13 2009, 10:25 PM Post #13
Budding Lyricist Posts: 2,780 Group: Member Member #394 Joined: May 19, 2008	Only one problem. Arille is an Altmer.
	Spoiler: click to toggle "I look at the eyes, straight to the soul doorway" Redsrock Dammit, Vanir...... I had an awesome daydream of me and Anne Hathaway on a private island. And then in the daydream you came in and murdered her, then asking for my hand in marriage.


Dark Slinkie	Apr 14 2009, 07:59 AM Post #14
Anubis, Lord of the council Posts: 1,284 Group: Member Member #501 Joined: February 3, 2009	Too true
	Bloodbath, The Ultimate Battle For Survival The Rp of Thraksheir Thraksheir, land of magic


The Bean	Apr 14 2009, 05:20 PM Post #15
Forum Kommisar Posts: 1,000 Group: Member Member #503 Joined: February 10, 2009	God dammit, what is it about me and getting dark elves and high elves confused!!



Dark Slinkie	Apr 15 2009, 03:51 AM Post #16
Anubis, Lord of the council Posts: 1,284 Group: Member Member #501 Joined: February 3, 2009	They look nothing alike!
	Bloodbath, The Ultimate Battle For Survival The Rp of Thraksheir Thraksheir, land of magic


The Bean	Apr 15 2009, 04:33 AM Post #17
Forum Kommisar Posts: 1,000 Group: Member Member #503 Joined: February 10, 2009	I know, that's the most annoying bit...



Dark Slinkie	Apr 15 2009, 04:48 AM Post #18
Anubis, Lord of the council Posts: 1,284 Group: Member Member #501 Joined: February 3, 2009	Well it's not that bad. They are both elves after all.
	Bloodbath, The Ultimate Battle For Survival The Rp of Thraksheir Thraksheir, land of magic


The Bean	Apr 20 2009, 08:59 AM Post #19
Forum Kommisar Posts: 1,000 Group: Member Member #503 Joined: February 10, 2009	Chapter 4-Caius Cosades Balmora seemed a pretty dismal place to arrive in at three o'clock on a drizzly afternoon, but I suppose that that point of view can be somewhat tainted when you've vomited up a meal and a few drinks over the side of a silt strider. I was helped off the silt strider by the understanding driver (who had repeatedly assured me that sooner or later I would get my 'strider legs') and went down the stone platform, specially constructed for the insects and their drivers, on somewhat unsteady legs. Still feeling slightly queasy, I looked for the South Wall Cornerclub in the southern part of town, reasoning that unless the proprietor had a very odd sense of humour it should be there. As I'd predicted, it was and I found it after only a few minutes of searching. Grateful for the break from the cold, I hurried inside, to a stone building that, at first glance, appeared to simply be a stairwell. After a moment of surprise, I realised that they simply led to a downstairs bar and an upstairs room. A khajit was leaning on the wall opposite, and she flashed me a toothy grin as I entered. “Greetings Cyrodiil,” she purred. “What brings you here?” “Afternoon,” I replied. “I was looking for a Bacola Clocius. I have some business with him.” The khajiit woman gave me knowing looking. “Business, you say?” she asked curiously. “That's right,” I replied firmly. “Business.” “He's upstairs,” she said. I hurried up the stairs, and found myself almost walking into another Imperial. The first thing I noticed about him was his girth. His stomach was so huge that it strained against the buttons of the purple waistcoat and shirt, and I had a feeling that if they popped then they would take somebody's eye out. The other thing was the huge, bristly grey beard he wore. It was like someone had shaved a wolf and stuck it to his chin. “Watch it now lad!” he said in a voice that was boomingly loud. “What are you doing up here?” “I was looking for a Bacola Clocius,” I said, surprised by the sheer volume of his voice. “Then look no further!” the man roared. He grabbed my hand in a paw the size of a ham and shook it so vigorously I thought that he might wrench my arm out of its socket. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr?” “Magna,” I replied, managing to extricate my hand from his crushing grip. “Iocus Magna.” “An Iocus, eh?” Bacola said in a voice with its volume turned up to deafening. “I've known a few Iocuses in my time. Damn fine name, if you ask me! Now, what can I do for you?” “I was told to ask you about finding somebody called Caius Cosades,” I replied. “Oh, you have business with Caius, eh?” Bacola said. “I know your sort. Don't worry, you can count on me to keep quiet.” He gave me a broad grin and tapped the side of his nose. “He's on this side of the river,” Bacola continued. “The street on the southernmost edge of town, at the very end of the road. It's set apart from the rest so you can't miss it.” I thanked the massive innkeeper or his time and left the cornerclub, hurrying into the streets of Balmora. I followed the man's instructions and found myself in front of a house practically identical to all the others in the town, made of the same yellowed sandstone as the rest of building's in the city. I knocked on the door after paranoia made me check I still had the package (which I did), and the door was wrenched open by a grouchy looking Imperial. His eyes were rimmed with red and he stank of alcohol and body odour. His blonde hair was tousled and dirty and he gave me the suspicious look all people who have been interrupted in their sleep reserve for anybody unfamiliar. “What do you want?” he asked, still glaring at me. “Are you Caius Cosades?” I said politely, trying not to wrinkle my nose at his unwashed smell. “I might be,” he said. “What's it to you?” I held up the package I had been been given. “I was told I need to deliver this to you,” I said. “By somebody called Sellus Gravius.” Caius gave me another look, assessing me, before saying; “Come in.” Caius' house was a mess, a single room affair with an unmade bed shoved into one corner. But there was something about the entire mess of the room seemed to be carefully arranged, as if Caius was trying to hide something behind a facade of a regular heavy drinker and general lowlife. Though if the smell on his breath was anything to go by, I had a feeling it wasn't just a pretense. Caius took the package and read the paper within it, before giving me a cautious look. “So,” he said. “You're the man, then.” “I am?” I asked. Caius gave me a curious look. “What have you been told?” he asked. “Mr Cosades, until a few hours ago I thought I was dead,” I said. “For goodness sake, I had been hung.” “Ah yes,” Caius said, as if being hung and then being bought back to life again was a perfectly normal thing to happen to somebody. “It's a very precise science, apparently. If you get the balance right, you can apparently get a man in a stupor that very closely resembles death.” “So what does that mean?” I asked. “To everybody on the mainland, you're dead,” Caius said. “True, the Iocus Magna I am talking to is alive and well, but the Empire is a big place and I doubt it stands to reason that two Iocus Mangas could exist.” I realised what Caius was saying and sighed. “So I can't return to the mainland then?” I asked. “You're stuck here, I'm afraid,” Caius said. “And before you start thinking up some plan of escape, let me remind you that your death was extensively reported in the Black Horse Courier. I made sure of that myself, and I doubt that any of your old friends and contacts would appreciate a dead man knocking on their door.” I gave Caius an evil look before saying; “You heartless bastard.” Caius just shrugged. “I've been called worse,” he said. “I'll bet you have,” I muttered quietly. “So, what do you have planned for me again.” “Before I elaborate on that, allow me to introduce myself fully,” Caius said. He extended a hand. “Caius Cosades. I'm master of the Morrowind branch of the Blades, and spymaster of the Blades.” I stared at the hand in shock. “The blades?” I said slowly. “The Nine-damn blades?” “That's right,” Caius said, nodding. “Right,” I said, before taking his hand and giving him my firmest and trustworthiest shake I could. He returned with one that was equally firm and trustworthy and I immediately knew that he was a man who was not to be trusted. I guessed that the only difference between him and I was that he did the Emperor's work, while I simply worked for myself. I made a mental note to watch my step around him. “So,” Caius said after we had finished our incredibly honest (and therefore incredibly dishonest) handshake. “I guess you'll be wanting something to do.” That wasn't true, but Iocus had me backed into a corner so all I could do was nod and hope for the best. “Well the question is, are you ready to take my orders,” Caius said. I shrugged as nonchalantly as I possibly could. “As long as they don't get me killed,” I said, fervently hoping they wouldn't. “Excellent,” Caius said. He left it hanging, leaving me in the uncomfortable position of having no choice to continue the conversation. “So, what do you want me to do?” I asked hesitantly. “Get a job and some better equipment,” Caius said. He grabbed a purse from a table and dropped it into my hand. “Take this.” “Oh, erm, thank you,” I said, feeling pleased. If everybody in Vvardenfel gave me free money then I had a feeling that my stay was going to be a very pleasant one. I was wrong, of course. Life can be like that.



Dark Slinkie	Apr 27 2009, 08:04 AM Post #20
Anubis, Lord of the council Posts: 1,284 Group: Member Member #501 Joined: February 3, 2009	Morrowind Nerevarine stories arn't really my fancy but this is preety good.
	Bloodbath, The Ultimate Battle For Survival The Rp of Thraksheir Thraksheir, land of magic


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