An Oblivion Story

[wasder]

An icy wind blew through the trees. Berren shivered. He was not used to the cold, and at this time of year County Cheydinhal had lots of it. He pulled his deep green cloak around him and waited patiently for it to begin.

 

Berren came from Anvil, but, being a Redguard felt the need to travel, and Anvil was the place to travel from. Ships were in the harbour all year round, and traders convoys came to the port for buisiness. Berren had travelled around Tamriel on the ships, and adventuring in the wild. He had earnt a sword through hard labour, and his bow. Over several years his fame had spread, and his name became known. And then this.

 

The "Oblivion Crisis" as it had swiftly become known as. The emperor dead but the day before, and Kvatch beseiged by the foul creatures from the fires. The Count of Cheydinhal, Count Indarys, had hired Berren and two other famous adventurers for publicity, to show he was protecting his citizens. He, Anduril the Altmer mage and Pellian, the nord knight had been hired and give the resources to fight off the daedra. Pellian's high-mindedness had made it hard to work with him; he always demanded absolute control of the situation and called Berren's stealth tactics to be "filthy, cowardly and only for the weak". Indeed, Pellian's unit fell to the claws of a band of daedra that he charged at, regardless of the fireballs and lightning bolts. Pellian was forced to join the woefully inept Knights of the Thorn. Led by Farwill Indarys, the count's son, their only duties seemed to be bragging in taverns, creating works of fantasy and passing them off as fact. Pellian fitted right in, apart from he could actually use a sword.

Anduril however, was more sensible. He worked and got along well with Berren, planning and laying traps, training people to fight with stealth and cunning; for the denziens of Oblivion were uncounted in number and the people of cheydinhal were few.

 

The growls and howls of the daedra could bow be heard, Berren had spied upon their gate of fire to and could that they planned a raid upon Cheydinhal, in fact, through an intercepted message from a messenger of the shady cult "The Mythic Dawn" he knew that the daedra would soon begin the seige of Cheydinhal.

 

A roar pierced the darkness.

 

Berren parted the bush and saw a daedroth writhing in agony, it's foot caught in the iron grip of a hunters trap. Berren gave the signal. A rain of arrows flew from behind, buzzing like angry bees. The group of Daedra became alert, whirling around. As Berren's unit readied for another volley, Anduril's small group of mages hurled their thunderbolts at the daedra. Berren marvelled at the efficiency of the slaughter. Clanfears, daedroths and dremora all perished at the assault. By now only half the daedra remained, and the mages needed to recharge their magicka. Berren's unit fired a second volley, then drew arms and charged silently through the trees. When they reached the edge of the forest the daedra were ready for a fight, claws, swords and maces at the ready, and only 20 metres away. Berren broke into a sprint, with the rest of his unit. They were in the open now, no need to sneak. Berren roared a great roar, a roar of one who seeks to defend his homeland, and defend it from cruel beasts, and then he leapt...

 

He landed upon a dremora, driving his blade through it's chest. He withdrew the blade, whirling around to cleave the head of another dremora. His men's training was not idle time, and they did not disappoint Berren. Their swords and axes struck swift and true, driving the daedra into retreat.

 

The battle raged for only a short time, with few casualties on Berren's side. The black blood of the daedra stained the grass, and the men cheered to their victory. It did not last long. Berren turned to see a large group of daedra aproaching from the south. He recognized them to be Xivilai, the meanest, toughest, cruelest beast to walk this plain or the next. Their great battle axes glinted in the moonlight, their eyes gleamed with the glee of one who loves battle, and their growls made Berren feel like a child, afraid of the dark. And Berren knew they would make him beg for death...

 

 

<If I get positive posts, I'll continue Berren's story. It will get better, I plan to have duels, sigil keeps, assasinations, and a chance encounter with the Hero of Kvatch (as you would be known at the time). I'm also open to the idea that this probably suck and/or you can't be bothered to read all of it. I know I wouldn't be.>

[pedantic]

Hey, It,s actually pretty good Wasder. As an aside - Dremora, Scamps, Spider Daedra, and Xivilai are more readily pooned with lightning attacks as opposed to thunderbolts.

 

"The growls and howls of the daedra could bow be heard, Berren had ...."

 

- that bit is confusing! But .....

 

Roll out part two, PM me when it's up if you like. :biggrin:

[wasder]

Sorry, it's now be heard. Typing error. Anyway, thanks for the response, I am drawing up a story line for the second one.

[dezdimona]

<If I get positive posts, I'll continue Berren's story. It will get better, I plan to have duels, sigil keeps, assasinations, and a chance encounter with the Hero of Kvatch (as you would be known at the time). I'm also open to the idea that this probably suck and/or you can't be bothered to read all of it. I know I wouldn't be.>

A defeatist attitude,gains you only defeat. Write because you like telling a story,not to impress upon others your ability too.

I enjoyed it.you need to polish your writing a bit.

I make my mods for my game and then release them,if I think some may enjoy them,not for praise or accolades.

My writing is done for the same reason,because (I) enjoy it.Whether another likes it or dislikes it matters not.It what I think of it that really matters!

[wasder]

Well, good point. But where's the point in posting something no one reads?

And anyway, I've forgotten about finishing it and need to get back to it! Ta, and thanks.

 

EDIT: Currently in a crap mood and can't write. Decide to play bass really really loud to let out stuff instead.

[dezdimona]

Well, good point. But where's the point in posting something no one reads?

And anyway, I've forgotten about finishing it and need to get back to it! Ta, and thanks.

 

EDIT: Currently in a crap mood and can't write. Decide to play bass really really loud to let out stuff instead.

if someone reads it,yet does not respond,was it liked or was it disliked?

[wasder]

Meh. (this may sound really bad but at the moment I really couldn't care less) sorry. I'm not in the best of moods.

[armageddon818]

well it WASNT bad actually. It would have been promising had you continued.

[wasder]

Well, here's as far as I got one night before I went to bed and forgot about it. Sometime this week I'll post the rest of it.

 

The Xivilai were upon Berren and his men. Their strength was as frightening as their appearance, and Berren dodged more blows than he landed. He looked about and grimaced. He could see the battle would soon be lost, his men were being slaughtered, and precious few of their foe had been slain. He hoped the mages would get here in time. From what he knew, Anduril could cast balls of lightning the size of houses. However, he held little help of survival.

 

Berren dodged a great swoop from an axe, sidestepping before decapitating his foe. So few had been slain, Berren made every blow count. It took all his skill; he had to go through his trainings in his head, berating himself mentally for his mistakes. Berren finally got a break. He was not locked in combat, so he took the opportunity to scan the battlefield again. He gasped at what he saw. The Xivilai were toying with his remaining men. Usually two daedra swept there heavy weapons down beside the man, making him jump and scream. Suddenly, flashes of bright light flared. Some relief fell over Berren. Saved. Hopefully. Anduril, my life is in your hands he thought. The Xivilai finished their games as they charged towards the source of the lightning. However, they found naught. The mages were invisible; Berren could see footprints appear behind the Xivilai. As the daedra scoured the undergrowth, Anduril appeared beside Berren.

"Berren, where in Oblivion did they come from! Xivilai! I have rarely seen one, and never in such numbers."

"Anduril, it matters not our foe, they must be destroyed! They cannot be allowed near the city."

"I will do my best Berren. Shame that fool Pellian annihilated his unit. Widowed half the city in ten minutes. We need those men. Anyway, I have a plan. Don't worry"

Berren opened his mouth to reply, but Anduril was gone. He stood, both relieved and worried at the same time, breathing heavily as the Xivilai moved off, in search of the mages. He had no idea what to do. No other survivors remained from the slaughter, not even wounded. He sat down in the long grass and unbuckled his cloak. The night was cold, but the battle had warmed him, and heat still radiated from the still corpses that littered the ground. He looked at the corpses with indifference, not crying or grimacing, showing no emotions. He marvelled at how efficient the daedra were. All the blows were cutting off limbs, through the heart or to the head. He needed to do something, the fire of war had not left his body, and he refused to stay amongst the dead. He had an idea. The gate. The portal. It was not far from here. He could go to it, and find a way to close it. He rose mechanically, and then raced into the night.

 

Meanwhile,