Keanumoreira

Damn. That was deep. This speaks to the personal intimacy I have with dreams. I think it is a beautiful thing to dream, where in doing so, we learn more about a stranger that we never see, and yet, is always with us. Locked away in the deepest recesses of our mind, it is allowed to roam free, expressing itself in the only way that it can. For but awhile, we can see that person for who they really are: their fears, their desires, and all the little things we have somehow come to misplace, or perhaps, never even knew was there. Very thought provoking and very excellent. Two thumbs up. :thumbsup: :thumbsup:

Thank you. I like stories like this, the unusual ones that give people pause. It's something different, and like any good story, it leaves the reader with something new. I found its dark nature to be a bonus. :thumbsup:

Admittedly, I know little about the competition between for-profit and non-profit institutions. I brought it here in the hopes of a broader, more pellucid perspective. Which is better and why? Advantages, disadvantages, etc...

Despite the argument of this story, yes, I got something out of this; a lot, actually. While it is true that the stories we read are out of our control, we're all writing our own right now, in this small window in time: life, my friend, a book that's far from ending, and we each contribute a little bit to it. As for our own stories, that's a gift all its own. We may not know it, but everyone has the choice to choose their own ending. Even when a death is accidental, the writer has chosen their ending, albeit, unsuspectingly. That's what makes a tale so gripping; it's a story unique to its creator, to the only one that may finish it. When others are given the honor of taking a peek within, that, in my opinion, is the pot of gold that can be found in every story. I found my own in this one. As Shakespeare once said (in what can be thought of, in similar terms, as a story): "All the world is a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits, and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts."

This sums it up perfectly.

Abdul was shaken from his contemplation when a friendly hand descended over his shoulder. He was startled at first, relieved to know that it was only Sivari. There was worry in her voice, and it was only then when he realized the gravity of her question. It wasn't something that he was able, let alone, ready, to explain, at least not easily. There was a long pause. Looking past her, he stared at the ruined visage of the once mighty fortress that stood only feet away. With a heavy sigh, Abdul nodded his head, "I will tell you something that I have never told anyone before." Abdul gestured Sivari to follow him as he took a seat on a nearby bench, "you may want to sit; this will take awhile." Branches hung above him, twisting up into knots in various directions. The Argonian felt like that too. His stomach tightened as he recalled the memories one by one; every fiber of his being jerked in the opposite direction, taking an immense amount of willpower to pull himself together. This was something that he had hoped to avoid, but she deserved to know. "Sivari...what I'm about to say is very difficult. I never once imagined having to face this problem again. I buried it so deep within me, bottled it up for so long, that all my anger and hatred would consume it, and that would be the end of it. And yet, here I am again." He glanced over into her eyes, "But I know that you're someone that I can trust. You're a kind, giving soul." Clutching his chest, he continued, "Not many of us can say the same..." Abdul paused again, reflecting on something that had crossed his mind. Slowly, thoughts turned to words as each painfully left his mouth, "I am a very old Argonian, Sivari. You cannot tell, but I've lived long before the Oblivion Crisis more than two hundred years ago. I am cursed by Sanguine to live this way until one specific day. On that day, I will be given a choice to make: I am to relinquish the "gift" of immortality; in exchange, one life will be sparred. If I refuse, my immortality will continue at the expense of their own." His mouth trembled, his hands slightly shook; with tears welling up in his eyes, he continued in a weak, reluctant voice, "I didn't ask for this, I swear it. I-WE, were tricked, me and a dear friend of mine." As Abdul continued, he pulled a ring from his pocket, "Her name is Aphina. She is an Argonian from my time; her soul is trapped here, in this ring." He slipped the ring back from whence it came, "We've been friends for as long as I can remember. She saved me when I was but a mere boy, during my escape from the Dark Brotherhood. She led me from Morrowind back to Argonia, to a village not far from Gideon. Her father raised me as if I were one of his own, and together, we grew up there. My father was a blacksmith, but also, a very talented craftsmen- do you remember that ring?" He glanced back slightly to see if Sivari was still listening, to see how crazy all of this must have sounded to her. "But one day, our village was attacked, but we know not by whom. If Aphina were here, she might have said it was him, just another part of the games he plays. I don't think it was, but we were the only survivors. Even her father didn't make it out; he was just...gone. From that day on, we sought to change our lives for the better. We traveled the entirety of Tamriel, searching for fortune and adventure, and by that time, we had fallen in love." The Argonian smiled fondly, resting his chin on his fists, "I remember when we went to Elsweyr; Aphina didn't like it too much, complained that the sun was too harsh on her scales. We were traveling with a caravan those days that she didn't quite trust. But they were a fair lot to me; never did wrong by us despite what Aphina thought. It didn't matter to me though. We could have been anymore in the world; I was just glad to be by her side on those chilly, desert evenings, close to one another in the sand, watching the stars and listening to the wind as it whispered to us. As we fell asleep, cradled in each others arms, we would sing to each other of times long since past: of her father and the village, and all the memories of Blackmarsh that made us smile." A frown took its place, "I loved her so much Sivari, more than anything in the world, more than anyone can ever know. That's why when she fill ill, I wanted to do so much to save her..." Tears poured down his eyes, resentment and guilt clashing in his veins, "He appeared, with that damn, smug look on his face...." He briefly turned away, unable to face her, "...and it was then that he made me a deal. He said that he could save her, that he would spare her from death, but on one condition: he told me that if I really loved her, all I had to was wait. In my haste, I said that I would do anything to have my Aphina by my side again, and that's exactly what he wanted to hear. That...devil...he ripped the soul from her mortal body, flung it aside, and sealed her essence in my father's ring, using my own to prevent the undoing of his curse. When I asked him what he had done, Sanguine looked at me and laughed; 'I did what you asked my boy. All those years alive will give you time to think. Choose wisely, for only one can be saved. The other will be mine for all of eternity.' In that moment, he vanished, swearing to return on the day where a decision would have to be made. " Abdul rose from the bench, his stomach sinking, his head reeling, "I could have stopped it Sivari if only I had let her go. I didn't want any of this, not for me...not for her..." He cupped his face between his hands, tears trickling through the cracks, "I'm such a fool, such a damn, damn fool...I would take it back if I could, I swear I would..." The sun shined on him, as if out if pity; angered, he gripped his amulet, staving off the urge to rip it from his neck, "but I can't...it's too late for that. There's nothing left for me to do but wait." Turning around, he gazed back up at Dragonsreach, then back to her, flushed with the bittersweet sense of victory, "And when that day comes, I know I'll make the right choice..."

(I like the feast idea. I would like it if we could travel to Riften next. One of my favorite cities in Skyrim.) Abdul awakened, somehow on his back, to find Sivari looming over him, informing him that the battle had been won. They saved Whiterun. "We did?" He sat up, swiftly reminded of his broken rib. He clutched it in pain, wiping the blood that still oozed from his lip. Sivari managed to mend the bone back together, a task that brought new admiration for this hardy Khajiit. He felt a sudden jolt of energy as a portion of the dragon's soul permeated over him. His mind was flooded with memories that were not his own. The amulet jerked with what seemed to be the worst recollections that this dragon experienced. An entire archive of trauma, pain, and nightmares invaded his mind; the most wrenching were the final moments of its life. He felt the roots as they wrapped around him, the ice as it pierced his body, splintering vein and bone alike; and as life itself escaped Lizjotstrun's grasp, the fear of death had so overwhelmed him, that it burned greater and brighter than the very flames that enveloped his body. One specific memory, one that the Argonian never forgot, held special significance. Loneliness, anger, disappointment, bitterness...they all flashed before his eyes, windows into a life that felt strangely familiar. He was reminded of someone he once loved himself, someone that he cared so much for. Abdul was absolutely horrified. With his body drained and broken, he slowly walked through the wreckage of Dragonsreach. The storm that gathered above had been banished, allowing the light of Aetherius to wash over his grim and filth. The Argonian threw open the doors of the hall, and without facing his companions, with as much as a "good job" or an "we did it", instead, he chose to descend those steps alone.

(Macman, Abdul was never in the dragon's mouth) With the dragon dead, Abdul released the roots of the Gildergreen. His amulet stopped glowing, but the excruciating pain of lifting the roots had taken its toll. The Argonian collapsed forward and fainted from fatigue.

Abdul glanced up as the dragon peered down at them, opening its maw and filling the room with a torrent of ice and snow. The stories of the "sky serpents" were true. Fear flooded his veins, but never once did he dare to surrender. They were this close to saving Whiterun; a dragon was their final test. Arrow after arrow left his bow. One dug into one of the dragon's eyes, splintering in a cloud of blood. It's enormous tail swung at him, lifting into the air before crashing back down, bringing wooden beams and pillars with it, causing part of the roof to cave in. Its tail came around again, sweeping Abdul into the wall and fracturing one of his ribs. He wailed in pain, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, but this only did more to antagonize him. Gripping his side, he rose and leaned on his bow weakly. "I'm okay!" He signaled to his companions, but being unable to move as much as an inch, this couldn't be any further from the truth. In was in this moment of weakness when Abdul recalled the words that the Hist had spoken to him. The Argonian looked down at his bow, those words flooding back: " 'All you have to do is remember your roots...' That's it..." He threw his bow aside, nearly collapsing to his feet; he shrugged it off, stumbling before the dragon. "Hey...y-you...the one the Hist calls 'Lizjotstrun'..." He coughs violently, blood spilling out, "that is your name, yes? Lizjotstrun?" The dragon lifts his leg, ready to crush the pesky Argonian, "Well know this you foul demon. Today is the last day that you live..." His amulet became enveloped in a dark mist, rushing to the palms of his hands. Raising his arms into the air, the earth suddenly rumbled, the wooden floors splintering into tall, jagged arches. It seemed like all of Dragonsreach was being swallowed up by the ground. The massive roots of the Gildergreen erupted through the floor, covering Dragonsreach in a canopy. The roots slithered down, halting the foot of the dragon just as it was about to crush Abdul. It wrapped around its scaly neck, enveloped its serpentine tail, and bound its wings in place. Unable to move, the beast flailed savagely. Abdul fell to the ground in agony, "AGHHH! KILL IT! KILL IT! QUICKLY!"

When the last of the Spider Daedra fell to their blades, Abdul watched as Sivari lifted the phylactery from its stone alter. He readied his bow, just in case Mephala had another trick up her sleeve. As dust and shards spilled across the ground, a resounding crash released into the room, followed by a bellowing roar that shook the room violently. Abdul knew in his heart that Hevnoraak had fallen. Acting quickly, they retreated from the walls and rooms collapsing around them before emerging in the main hall. Piles of dust littered the floor, swirling about a final portal that they seemed to have missed. Abdul relaxed his arm, which had instinctively reached for his bow, when what looked like people stumbled out and onto the ground. The Argonian rushed to offer his assistance, relieved that they were largely unharmed. Their stories of imprisonment were horrific. He wondered if the Jarls of the other holds had met a similar fate. Upon hearing the Jarl's question, Abdul suddenly stood and turned to Sivari, "The dragon, the one that Hevnoraak communed with...he's still here, isn't he?" The Argonian turned to the doors of the balcony, "It's not over yet. We're still in danger." His thoughts turned to the Jarl's family, especially the children. How many more would die to save this forsaken city?

I don't understand where this "lying" concept originated. Up is indeed up, down is indeed down, a lie is a lie, and so on and so on, but a fact is what is commonly observed and not what we say it is. Just because you or I believe in something does not mean it is true. Similarly, just because I don't believe in something does not mean it isn't true. How do you know that our concept of "up" or "down" or "gravity" and what have you is the same for other intelligent life? Down could mean up, stop could mean go. Just because we call it a fact does not make it a fact. And no, it is not called "lying." That's like saying "I like blue; blue is the superior color" and someone else refutes that by saying "you're a liar." An opinion is not a lie. There is no room for mendacity in perception. So it brings up the question: what is really true? Nothing is. Humans like to put labels on things. Whether or not you believe that, or anything I just said, is up to those who are willing to exercise their opinion. In the scheme of things, when placed before the opinions of other people, we are all right and we are all wrong. If there is one fact that cannot be disputed, it is this one. Of course, there will be someone out there who is willing to disagree with that, which works, because that's exactly what I was aiming for. :P

Here is a philosophy I follow: perception is the only truth. The great thing about that philosophy is that it is difficult to argue with, for in doing so, you have just exercised that philosophy. :P To be honest, the way I see it, all truth is in the eye of the beholder. Everyone uses the Socratic Method to some degree to gain some amount of understanding of a world within a world that we know little about. So is anyone really wrong? Is anyone really right? Can you really prove anything? I'm not disagreeing with Newton's Laws or the Theory of Relativity here, but think about this: the way we understand what is commonly believed to be true ("commonly" being the keyword here) is not all that common. We are all different; we can all look at the same thing or concept but our understanding of it, even if similar in "truth", will not be 100% alive. Perhaps that is why we all believe different things, or the same things, just differently. :P

The Argonian removed his amulet, and using his bow like a catapult, he flung himself above the spider daedra and towards one of the portals on the ceiling. With a swipe, it sealed shut, slicing one of the daedra in half as it attempted to pass through. On the ground again, he carved a swath of blood and gore to the wall on his left, swiping it shut as more poured into the room. One seized him by the arm as another attempted to cocoon him within its web, spinning its legs with unholy grace and aptitude. Abdul sliced himself free from his silky prison, throwing off his assailants as quickly as they manifested. From this position, he was able to seal one last portal in the center of the room before Hevnoraak's voices invaded his mind. He slipped the amulet around his neck, banishing the lich's grip. More portals still remained, but having felt that he closed enough of them, Abdul cast a manipulation spell, luring one of the spider daedra before placing it under his control. Pulling out his bow, he struck down many more of the daedra with a volley of arrows.

(Yeah, I kinda got that feeling when my third post rolled around. No offense taken.) Abdul was glad that things were quiet, at least for the time being. Sivari didn't seem too pleased that the group was separated, but he didn't mind. For the most part, silence dominated those hallways. Several times, Abdul worked up the nerve to say something, but was always met with a lump in his throat. He was pleased when he heard the lock click, sure as ever that the phylactery was within arms reach. And sure enough, it was. On an altar before them, there sat an old stone urn, cracked and chipped, but apparently intact. The stomach of the Argonian jarred. "Sivari, I don't think that we should..." But before he could stop her, the sound of someone familiar echoed throughout the room. Mephala. Abdul knew her very well through his association with Sanguine. He was surprised that she didn't recognize him. Spider Daedra poured into the room, crawling up the walls and onto the ceilings. As Abdul turned to smash the phylactery, he was thrown to the floor when one of the daedra's legs wrapped around one of his own. It squeezed with tremendous force, attempting to break bone. Abdul snapped its leg, driving the foul creature back as it reeled in pain. He struggled to get himself to Sivari, throwing off many of their attackers in the process. "Sivari," he called as he grabbed one by the neck, squirming viciously, "do you think we can destroy the phylactery that easily? You don't think Hevnoraak has planned for this?" One of the daedra sliced open his cheek, prompting a swift and violent retaliation, "Listen to me. I've dealt with Mephala before. All of this is likely to be a trick somehow." Another came from behind, nearly impaling him through the neck; the Argonian returned the favor, "Look. If we get out of this alive, there's something that you should know, something I hesitated to tell you. Trust me Sivari, it's important. Mephala might not be the only prince that we have to worry about..." More daedra advanced through the portals, "In the meantime, we have these daedra to deal with. Do you think we could close those portals somehow?"

"No." Abdul uttered harshly, "Other men may bow before the Valkyries, but this Argonian does not." He smiled, joining her side confidently, "I'm not going anywhere." He charged into the fray of swords and bloodshed, striking down many foes with his poniard. Teresse wasn't bad herself. With her expertise in the Thu'um, Abdul found her to be a worthy companion. Within minutes, the horde had been virtually destroyed. He turned to the Valkyrie, nearly out of breath, "you don't fight half bad for a fallen angel." He laughed for a moment, sheathing his poniard. It was at this moment that he witnessed Edwin shouting and running off in the opposite direction. "That moron is always running after something..." He shook his head, "and one day, it's going to get him killed. Where do you suppose he's off to anyway?" He slapped his forehead in frustration, laughing somewhat nervously, "Oh no...I know where he's going." Abdul turns to Teresse, "You know, I bet you that he read that map wrong. Sivari is headed in the right direction, and frankly, I'd trust her instincts over any of ours any day. That fool, however, looked to be heading for the basement. No doubt, Hevnoraak has planted something there." He sighed deeply, "I better go tell Sivari. You can stay here if you need to. More drauger might be on the way." He bolted after Sivari, hoping that she hadn't found herself in any trouble of her own.

Abdul scowled when Edwin wasn't looking; "Oh sure, he can find a stupid map," the Argonian muttered, "but he can't even fight off a vampire." He was reminded of the incident in the temple. "Psh...if I saw him coming, it would have been different." Turning to his left, he could see Sivari dashing down the hallway, and without a second thought, rushed off after her, leaving Edwin and Teresse behind. "Too slow my friend..." But as he looked back to see the look on his face, he noticed another horde of drauger quickly advancing in their direction. Adbul pulled out his bow and began firing, sure to hit the drauger and not his companions instead. Panting, and his chest tightening, he managed to catch up with Sivari, "It looks like we've got company." He stopped, ready to receive the enemy, "Go! Find the phylactery. I'll try and hold them off as best I can!" He fired another arrow, "And if I fall, let me fall! Hevnoraak must be killed!"

They walked through what must have been a maze of rooms, all empty save for a few scattered scrolls and useless paperwork. Nothing seemed to point in the direction of the phylactery. He wondered if there was a secret door or compartment they must have passed as they combed the rooms time and time again. Pulling away cobwebs, brushing away dust, an air of urgency began to sink in. What if they couldn't find it? How long would it be before Hevnoraak discovered them? Was the old man wrong in choosing them? Abdul quelled his anxiety, which quickly turned to frustration. Someone had to have discovered something by now. He was thinking if Sivari turned anything up when he noticed that Edwin rushed back to the main hall, "where's he off to?", only to return shortly after with a paper in his hands. It was a map, leading to what no doubt was the phylactery. "Sivari, you may want to take a look at this!"