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Two Gifts - Not a Single further - Part 2

Started by Idriar
Post #36732

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Aldmeri Dominion (Altmer)
Two Gifts - Not a Single further - Part 2

The Second Gift

part 1:

part 3:

Biting fumes ascended from the molten depths. The three figures were wrapped in thick blankets that should keep off the wind. Supple-scales watched with a smile as Dlesyddion and the other two Dunmer disappeared behind the ridge that protected the camp a little from the vapors and the dusty wind. Hopefully this time they would find death. The Bouyant Arminger had been almost overwhelmed by the undead. He cursed Sydd and scratched the scars on his back.

Nothing but misfortune had brought this brat to him. When the little Hlaalu bitch would almost bled to death that day, he had been punished as a slave, of course. Whipped. So strongly that wide welts on his back lost their scales. And that was not all. The damn Dresaya Hlaalu never ever wanted to see him again. So she threatened Vonaverth Varuhlen with the termination of the alliance between the two families till his master gave him finally back to Codremu. As Supple-Scales arrived in Molag Amur again, his whip wounds had not healed yet . Ash and dust made a cure impossible. For seven years by now the wounds aked badly, he had to work for this awful Codremu Varuhlen and he was miles away from the water! And all because of that damned kids! And not only that Sydd had destroyed his life, now he suddenly appeared again and acted as if good friend. Supple-Scales
cursed Sydd, all dark elves and his lot as a slave.

Dust trickled down to the Dunmer. Glowing eyes stared angrily at the three intruders. Dlesyddion raised his right hand. A sphere of shimmering bright light was formed. It moved away from his hand and flew into the darkness through the stuffy, stale air. The ball broke and a wave of magic poured over the undead lurking in the darkness. The undead flew apart with shuffling and scratching noise, as full of deadly terror.

Dlessyddion had to smile at the thought. Of course, he knew no fear was felt by the undead in the true sense. Casting the spell of turn undead caused them simply to cease fighting and made the undead trying to gain distance to the caster.

A crooked skeleton tried to scurry past him. Dlesyddion swung the leg and kicked the skull of the undead, which flew in a high arc. He stepped over the crumbling skeleton and the other two Dunmer followed him deeper into the silent tomb. He pulled out his mace, his two companions did the same. One belonged to Codremu's caravan. The other was a Bouyant Arminger, a proud warrior in Vivec's name. Fortunately, these undead were dried by the hot air. It otherwise would again become really disgusting.

After they had cleared the section of the tomb, they returned a few hours later back to the surface. The other two were heavily laden with treasures and works of art. Acrid smell of sulfur and air hotter than in the vault embraced them. Molag Amur was a terrible place. Carefully Dlesyddion climbed the path provisionally carved in the rocks. Between him and the lava below only a thin rope. A rock fall had uncovered the entrance to the tomb a few weeks ago, and in a few weeks the whole of the vault itself woul be devoured by the rock-eating lava. As Codremu discovered the tomb, there were already Bouyant Arminger sent from Vivec to explore the vault. Their numbers had been reduced by the undead, so they allowed Codremu Varuhlen and his men to plunder the treasures of the tomb, when they in turn involved in the eradication of the undead. Fortunately Dlesyddion accompanied the caravan, and he just could now test the new spell, Lo-Dres Dres had taught him at the undead. If he had it thaught him along with a few Destruction spells...

The Marshal of the Bouyant Arminger and his uncle Codremu they cheered.

"My champions! How many undead you encountered?" asked the Marshal.

"And what treasures did you find?" Added Codremu. Having examined the loot he took Dlesyddion aside.

"Well, as you've done so far and as I have heard your name really suits you, Sydd, little mage."

"Uncle, please, it´s Dlesyddion. And I do not know who told you that. My magic eased the work of these thugs a lot concerning the undead." Dlesyddion replied testily. He knew what alluded Codremu.

"When you bring the old madman finally at right magic? Lo-Dres has probably already a few hundred solstices seen too much. Does not he regocnize your potential? Should I talk to him?"

"That would not change anything," sighed Dlesyddion. "He insists on me to teach only in the restoration."

"He said you can´t do it on your own."


"Nonsense! Do not listen to the old man, if he withholds magic from you, you have to earn it by your own studies. Anyone can conjure and do destruction, it´s the simplest form of magic. Listen, Sydd:... I like you but you have to learn yourself. Go and enforce your own way. So when we get back in Suran, go to Lo-Dres Dres, and demand your lessons! Or try to teach yourself. Cheer up kid. So now I'll go into the vault. Wish me luck, Sydd! "

Codremu patted him on the shoulder and started out with a few comrades.

"It´s Dlesyddion, uncle." Dlessydion muttered angrily. He hated to be treated like a child.

But it was true. Dlesyddion really wished his Master would finally teach him right magic. With healing spells he was useful, but he gained no respect.

He shaked the bonemeal out of his clothes. And a scholar´s robe would be gradually appropriate for him, too. There had been in the past week no opportunity to talk to his uncle Supple-Scales. He wondered why the Argonian was so repellent. As a child he was far more than a slave. He was his uncle. Dlesyddion choosed to confront Supple-Scales. Perhaps he was just afraid of his "nephew" regarding him as slaves by now. He found the Argonian crouching behind some crates. With pain written on his face he scratched bad scars on his back.

"May I handle these wounds this time?" asked Dlesyddion.

Startled as if beaten the Argonians stood up. In his eyes Dlesyddion saw fear for a moment, then recognition. Then disregard.

"No. I do not want your help!"

Dlesyddion sighed.

"What's wrong, what is with you, uncle?"

"Do not call me that!" drove him to the Argonian. "I'm not your uncle but just a slave who was whipped because of you!"

Dlesyddion recoiled.

"What, when? What are you telling me?"

"You've heard correctly, sydd the little mage, I am not your uncle, since this Hlaalu was bitten by the slaugther fish! You were like a cup or a medla shown throughout Suran and around, and I? I was whipped and exiled! To this place!"

"Exiled? But ... father said Uncle Codremu'd missed you and that you wanted to go with him!"

"What? That you believed? Look at! Why would I want to come back to this place? Can you remember, the cough like you had to, like your nose was bleeding, here, on your first day here in Molag Amur? It is like my everyday! And all just because of you! "

With these words, let the Argonians the totally perplexed Dunmer aside and stormed off. The angry hiss of the slave had made the whole camp's attention to the two. Discontented glances were thrown Dlesyddion.

"Do you tolerate such treatment, kid? From a slave?"

"Oh, go off of him, whom is still not even grown a beard."

"Isn´t this Sydd, the little mage? I would not be surprised if he would always be a little magician."

At night Dlesyddion could hardly find any sleep in his tent. His uncle has abandoned their relationship. Despised him. It was all his fault. That he could hardly cope.

Finally, he fell into a restless sleep.

"... Sorrow? You can claim my second gift anytime ... price ..."


Codremu woke him.

"Get ready. After breakfast, you will straight back down again."

"I'm not hungry." Dlesyddion said. Codremu sighed and left the boy alone. Slowly rose the young healer. No, he did not want to see the others right ow. Especially not Supple-scales.

He got dressed and left the camp. Blistering heat greeted him as he walked over the ridge. He followed the treacherous path on the edge of the lava flow, and slipped through the narrow gap, into the tomb. Although hot and stuffy, it was here almost cool. He decided not to go deeper, but to wait for the others. He wondered who would send Codremu down with him today. His own men, or the Bouyant Arminger. Perhaps again both like yesterday. Yesterday ...

Finally came his "companion". Two armed Bouyant Armingers.

The elder took the lead. Dlesyddion knew him as Gallad Omayn. So the three went silently through the halls, past the empty graves and empty altars. Finally they came to a still-sealed door. It was actually a couple of iron bars imbedded in the rock.

"Wait. Let me handle that." Said Gallad and lashed out with his mace. Sparks flew, the rusty rods bent and finally broke. Dlesyddion was impressed. So much power he would not have believed to this man.

"Let us go on." The way forward was poorly elaborated. Steps were carved into the rock and lead down. But the walls were bare rock. Amazingly, it was getting colder the deeper they went. Dlesyddion had expected to encounter in the depths below Molag Amur on huge Magma chambers. Finally, the transition resulted in a large hall.

"Seems to me to be a kind of ritual chamber." Gallad said. He conjured a ball of light and threw it into the hall, and gave his torch to Dlesyddion.

Long rows of benches were aligned to a central altar. The chamber was irregular, but had smooth walls. A variety of corridors conducted in all directions.

Gallad walked up to a podium in the center. With great respect he looked at what was placed there.

"Look. What's this? A daedric artifact. This helmet. Can it be? The Daedric Face of Inspiration! By Vivec, for all times this treasure shall remain in my family! My children will wear this mask and remember my!"

"What? Who gives you the right to claim this treasure?" The other Arminger interupted the old man's word.

A dispute arose between the two, which Dlesyddion was not particularly interested in. He looked around in the great hall. He wondered who had probably built this grave. Dunmer? Chimer? Dunmer?

On the altar a neatly folded robe was spotted by Dlesyddion. Had there not something moved? He decided to risk a closer look. In fact, something was moving the material, although no breeze could be felt.

"What the ..."

The cloth pulled up into the air. It was a hood in which a skull stuck. The Skull pulled the robe into the air, higher, higher. Upto one meter seperated the Skull from the neck. The cloth unfolded to reveal a pair of skelletal arms. Then one more.

A bonelord! Dlesyddion stepped back. He had never seen such a beast before. He raised his hands and prepared his spells. That wouldn´t be easy.

The four-armed undead hovered menacingly above the altar. His howling sended shivers down his spine.

"Watch out!" Shouted the younger Arminger. He hurried to the undead.

Dlesyddion raised his right hand and aimed at the undead. A ball of light hit the undead, but the bonelord still moved towards him.

Meanwhile the Bouyant Arminger had almost reached the creature. He raised his sword, but before he could even come close to the undead, he was grabbed by the four bone arms of the beast. He screamed terribly, while unholy forces pulling at him. He was torn apart in the air. Blood stained the dusty robes of bonelord.

The older Arminger still held the mask in his hand and stared in awe at the undead. Dlesyddion casted his spell once again, but nothing happened. He stepped back, again casting. He had no fear of the undead, but what could he do? He was not a fighter. Why Lo-Dres Dres had taught him just no real magic? A fireball and he could have defeated the beast easily.

Without paying attention to the spells, the bonelord turned onto to the two remaining intruders.

"Flee!" Cried Dlesyddion. He could barely move and felt the magical grip of the bonelord who slowly hovered up to them in his bloodstained robe.

Dlesyddion rushed to the sclerotic old and shook the Bouyant Arminger.

"Come, we must flee!"

Awakened from a trance turned the warriors slowly, and began to run. Dlesyddion followed him. He felt so useless.

The walk up the stairs seemed to them endless because of the magic of the bonelord. More than stumbling but climbing they reached the upper end. The heat was unbearable.

The Bouyant Arminger collapsed. He still clung to the Daedric mask.

"I ... I was a coward." Brought the old man to say. "I deserve this mask not. I hope my children will one day prove to be worthy of it."

Dlesyddion looked back. Who could say whether they were followed by the bonelord. Dlesyddion looked at the iron bars that had blocked the way. As the door of a cage ...

"I think we should get out of here. I think we have disturbed something that would probably not be disturbed."

The Bouyant Arminger moaned.

"If we had not disturbed this place, it would have been destroyed by the lava in a few weeks. We were stupid. We ... we need to seal this place again. Why Vivec sent us here?"

The old man stood up.

"Let us warn the others. We must seal the entrance, nothing shall get out."

Thus, the warrior turned to the door. All weakness seemed to have left him, he had a mission. Seal the entrance? Uncle Codremu wouldn´t like that. He would miss some treasures.

Wordlessly, they left the tomb and returned to camp.

Warm, salty sea air flowed through the open window. Remerea Dlesyddion tenderly stroked over Dlesyddion´s back.

"Do you really have toleave again? You just came back on Morndas!"

With mock disappointment, she threw herself back on the rumpled bed.

"You should really be able to select a better moment to tell me that."

"I'm sorry, that did not work. Every moment with you is the best moment." Dlesyddion replied with a smile.

Remerea wrapped her arms around him.

"Oh, Sydd. You always know exactly what you have to say."

The red-haired Dunmer nestled her head on his shoulders.

"You are the only one that can call me that, you know?"

"When will you leave?"


"The Bouyant Arminger ... they will accompany you again?"

"No. They have forbid Codremu also to return there. Having sealed the entrance, Uncle Codremu raged with anger. I did not think that he was so anxious about treasures..."

Remerea listened.

"Why ... should Bouyant Arminger forbid you something? ... It's not really about ... being dangerous?"

Dlesyddion sighed. Should he tell her about the Bonlord? No, better not. He even didn´t tell her of his uncle Supple-Scales. He wanted to enjoy time with her, nothing else. Still she insisted on an answer.

"Well," he Began evasive. "It's a crypt full of undead, and Codremu has helped to clean it. But as the Bouyant Arminger were done ... the undead raised again. So they sealed the tomb again."

Remerea startled and raised.

"What, and you want to go back there? It's too dangerous!"

"But no. We have Lo-Dres Dres. The old man has transported thousands of undead back to their graves. He is worth as much as a dozen Bouyant Arminger!"

Remerea bit her lips, thinking. Then she smiled seductively. With her athletic body she pushed Dlesyddion onto the bed.

"Listen carefully, Sydd. You can leave this bed only if you promise not to bring you in danger."

"But ..." Began Dlesyddion and wanted to free himself. Remerea was stronger than she looked.

"Alright. I promise that I will take good care of me and that I will come back to you! Satisfied?"

"Indeed! Just make sure that your butt comes back safe back here!"

Laughing, she gave him a slap on said body part.

"Oh, you´re keen on this one? Fine! Here you go!"

As in the evening the House of Hlaalu family got quieter again and Dlesyddion Vahruhlen had already left with Codremu´s caravan and Lo-Dres Dres, a slender, pale Dunmer sneaked into the house. He knew it very well and immediately sought to Remereas chamber. His knocked, she opened.

Wordlessly, she gave way to the Dunmer into her dark chamber and led him to her bed.

They settled there.

"I love you, Vinon." whispered Remerea quietly.


In the morning two days later Dlesyddion was rudely awakened. The ground shook. There was an earth quake. Thunder from the earth filled the hot air. He pushed open the tarpaulin of his tent. He got to his feet unsteadily. The whole camp was astir. Red-hot lava spatter went whizzing down into the dust, leaving little furrows of glass. Smaller fires were blazing. Panic broke up.

"The edge! A piece of the edge is broken and fell into the lava stream!"

"Someone has to take care of the alit!"

Dlesyddion started to stomp the fires. The alit cried out for fear. The quake subsided, but still parts of the camp were in flames.

"We need water!"

"No, we can´t use the water! Without it we are lost!"

"Kill the fire with earth!"

"It does not work!"

Dlesyddion saw Supple-Scales took one after another of the great clay jugs of water, and hurled them into the largest fires. The jugs were broken and shed its here in Molag Amur oh so valuable content. But the plan worked and extinguished the fire. One by one died the other flames.

Codremu stormed angrily to the Argonian. He grabbed him by the horns and threw him to the ground.

"You god damn slave! How dare you?"

"But ... but ..." began Supple-Scales painfully. Dlesyddion could see horn wiggeling as if it was broken at the root.

"A week! That was the water for a week! Damn!"

The Dunmer tore his hair. It was as if a curse layed on them.

The members of the caravan stood beside muttering. Discontent prevailed in the camp. Since they had left Sarun again. It appealed to the Dunmer to violate the order of Bouyant Arminger. They also missed their protection. The creepy old healer Lo-Dres Dres made them the fear. And now, also the water supply was lost. The atmosphere was bubbling on.

Worried Dlesyddion hurried to his uncle.

"You need to do something, uncle. Otherwise you risk a mutiny!"

"Yes, Damn! You think I do not know that? Let me think."

Codremu looked full of hate down at the whimpering Supple-scales. Dlesyddion always thought they were friends.

"So shall it be then! We will now enter the tomb, pushing into the deepest levels and loot all the treasures we can find! Lo-Dres Dres will smash the damn bonelord, we will be rich, my friends!"

Winning grand gestures he performed in front of the assembled caravan. Big applause did not materialize. At least stopped seditious murmurings. People moved on to clean up.

"No matter what we find, tonight we have to leave." Codremu said quietly to Dlesyddion.

Then he turned to Supple-Scales.

"And I have something special for you. You will join us this time. And not just to drag stuff from the Crypt, no, you will be in the first row with Lo-Dres and Sydd and fight against the undead. Hopefully they have ... hunger, or whatever. "

He stormed off.

Dlesyddions noticed the Argonian, he once considered uncle. He was just a slave now?

"It´s Dlesyddion, uncle." He murmured quietly.

Again three figures descended the stairs with the walls of bare rock. An old Dunmer, who served as a healer, a young Dunmer, who could cast only healing spell, and a Argonian slave trembling with fear.

"Now tell me, boy. Why has not the magic worked against undead bonelord?"

Dlesyddion startled from his thoughts. He felt uncomfortable with Supple-Scales nearby. He also considered it inappropriate, to start a conversation just here.

"I do not know ... The undead was too powerful?"

"Or you were too weak."

Dlesyddion remained silent.

"I had always hoped your talent for the school of restoration would unfold if ye exclusively focused on it."

"Perhaps you could have taught me some useful spell. One with whom I could have saved the Arminger."

Lo-Dres cleared his throat and continued depressed.

"I have already explained, I won´t ever teach you to control fire and frost. Too much mischief is on this path, I know that. I don´t even know Destruction spells myself. And if you really wanted to learn the magic of destruction you could have learned it already, if you do enough strained'd, Sydd. It´s a shame, you tell lies. All the time you say you want to learn it, but put no effort in it."

This hurted Dlesyddion deeply. Not only that he had called him sydd. Everything else also. He had spent years in an attempt to produce a flame magically. Generally he had never had any succes in magic except the magic school of restoration. Lo-Dres Dres had always misunderstood and thought Dlesyddion would deal only with healing. No matter how many times he had begged for his help, he was always rejected. How he hated the old man. But how could he have been able to help him? He was just a healer.

Finally they reached the bottom. By the time of his last visit this area of ​​the tomb had been cool. But the lava must have worked its way in the rock. The air was hot and sticky, as in the rest of the crypt. Cautiously Dlesyddion looked in the hall to the benches. The bone prince was nowhere in sight. And also not the mutilated remains of the Bouyant Arminger. Probably his corpse was picked up by his comrades.

"All right. Where is it now ... that bonelord?" Began Lo-Dres. The old man looked around uninterested. He had really run quirky when such a place wasn´t faced with the necessary respect.

Dlesyddion did not answer. He wanted to defeat the undead and get the hell out of this walls. He felt unconfortable with Lo-Dres and Shupple-Scales around right now. He swallowed his wounded pride and anger down anyway. This was not the place to argue. Instead, he focused on his task.

"Maybe we should move further?" He pointed to one of the passages leading from the chamber.

Lo-Dre Dre shook his head. He slowly walked along the straight but out of the rectangular walls. In some alcoves urns were placed. Carefully, he took out one of them. He held it in his hands, examining it like a treasure. Then he threw it to the ground. It burst into a cloud of ash.

Dlesyddion wrinkled his nose. He knew what the old man was doing. He wanted to attract the bonelord with the desecration of graves. The guardian of these tombs - no matter what kind of beast it was - would not tolerate this. Even earlier Lo-Dres had paid little respect for the dead, as Dlesyddion recalled. It was the time he was teached in how to turn an undead.

Dlesyddion turned away in disgust, watching the entrances. Eventually the bonelord would come up to the place. It was only a matter of time. After he had destroyed a dozen more urns Lo-Dres Dres stood next to him.

Silently they stood side by side. Dlesyddion sighed. How he hated this old man. It all began so wonderful. After he healed Remerea backthen, he was taken by Lo-Dres Dres as student. As a child, he had thought, everyone would appreciate the old healer and respect him, but that was not true. Suran feared its healer. It was a deeply grumpy and cranky old man, but he used to be nice and friendly to Dlesyddion at the beginning, when he was satisfied with his special talent for restoration. But as soon as Dlesyddion wanted to learn other spells he became strange. Though reluctent, the old healer tried to teach him other magic, except destruction. But Lo-Dres quickly lost patience with him when he showed no progress and all the exercises remained without any results. Lo-Dres accused him of neglecting his studies. Eventually refused Lo Dres to teach him anything except recovery. Dlesyddion had yet tried everything. It wasn´t his fault that Lo-Dres Dres was such a bad teacher ...

Suddenly he felt a touch on the shoulder.

Startled, he turned around. The old Dunmer had put his hand on his shoulder.

Wordlessly, he gestured to the bonelord, who had approached without Dlesyddion noticing. The eerie silhouette floated slowly out of one of the hall ways. The skull hovered more that a metre above the shoulders and stretched on the hood of the creature.

Dlesyddion took a step back.

The bonelord hovered towards him. He raised his bony arms. Dirty blood spots emblazoned on his robe. This was the blood of the Bouyant Arminger.

Dlesyddion raised his right hand and casted a spell of turning undead. The ball of light flew from his hand and struck the bonelord. It had no effect.

"Master! He's too powerful! Do something!"

Lo-Dres Dres pushed Dlesyddion aside. Did he looked just old and listless, he was now strong and alert. He spread his arms and stood up to the bonelord. In both hands he formed incandescent balls of light. The bone prince paused, almost you could see his gestures and movements as sign of insecurity. Then he hung on.

The old healer was hurtling his hands together. With a loud clapping of the two balls collide. Suddenly pure recovery poured in a wave through the bone prince. His arms trembled in the air, his head jerked back and forth.

He almost had almost flipped when he stopped ... and further hovered to Lo-Dres Dres.

The old healer surprised and stepped back.

"Now I realize why you could not dispel him, Sydd. He is much more powerful than an ordinary Undead!"

"It´s Dlesyddion." Said the young Dunmer also more quiet and a step back.

Gradually, they were urged by the bonelord into a corner from which there was no escape.

"Now what?" Dlesyddion asked anxiously.

Suddenly lifted Lo-Dres Dres his arms. Bolts of fire flying through the air.

"What the ..." began Dlesyddion, appaled by the sudden heat and light next to him, "You ... you can cast destruction spells?"

Without regard to Dlesyddions objections Lo-Dres blasted more bolts of fire on the undead, who recoiled. Burn holes created on his robe and small sparks flared, but the unholy magic that held the bonelord alive did not let him go up in flames.

Finally formed Lo-Dres Dres a ball of fire. He flung it on the undead, so that the ball exploded at his chest. The blaze was so bright that it dazzled Dlesyddion. He blinked. When he could see clearly again fell clattering down scorched bones and charred scraps of fabric fluttered through the air.

The bonelord was destroyed. Yet Dlesyddion was not relieved. On the contrary, he was transported with rage.

"You lied to me! Your bloody bastard! You've made me believe, you would know only healing spells! You could have thaught me anytime!"

Exhausted the old man fell to the ground.

"No, no, I would not have you teached that! Not... destruction. You do not know what I have lost ... who I once was! Fire and ice have ruined my life, I would never want to do that to you."

Dlesyddion angrily kicked away a bone. Exasperated, he ran up and down.

"Why ... why did you then taught nothing else?"

Lo-Dres sighed and bowed his head.

"You damn stubborn! Always you blame me! I didn´t teached you destruction, that´s true. But I didi my best at teaching you what I know! Would you have only once, only once, really hard tried it, you would have achieved everything. Nay, you always thought your aptitude for restoration would make it pointless for you to work hard!"

Dlesyddion wanted to shout at Lo-Dres Dres and call him a dirty liar when he noticed behind the old Dunmer a movement.

The old healer was grabbed from behind, undead claws dug into his flesh.

The young Bouyant Arminger. His face was filled with undead hatred for all living things. Unholy powers held together his ripped body. Screamingly Lo-Dres tried to free himself, but the spell had cost him probably much force.

"Sydd! Help me!" He shouted.

Dlesyddion immediately lifted his hand to once turn the undead and afterwards to do a healing spell. But before he casted the magic, he let his hand fall back and let the Magicka flow into his body again.

With deepest terror and pain Lo-Dres Dres stared at him. The undead began to bash on the old healer with bare hands.

"Sydd! Help me! Please!"

Dlesyddion turned toward the stairs.

"No. And it's Dlesyddion."

... nice. Yet I do not accept him. He is not worth enough. You will send to me another one before her. But I do not accept him. I want her...

The screams of Lo-Dres Dres followed him as he climbed the up the stairs. Just like the first ascent, he felt as if a dark force would hamper his steps. Finally, the screams silenced when he arrived almost at the top. Lo-Dre Dre was dead. What has he done? He ... he could have saved the old man. But ... why he had not done it? And why did it feel so right? As he reached the top, he leaned against the doorway exhausted.

What has he done?

"You killed him!" A voice hissed at him angrily.

Supple-Scales grabbed him by the collar and pushed him against the wall. The Argoninian must have observed him and finished the stairs before him. Dlesyddion fought the grip, but the Argonian did not leave him alone.

"Why, why didn´t you help your master You ... you were to help him! ... You killed your master!"

"No!" Dlesyddion shouted and he managed to free himself.

"He was not my master and I did not kill him!"

The Argonians and Dunmer faced each other imminently, beginning to circle each other.

"I've seen it with my own eyes! You left him alone! Now Lo-Dre Dre's dead through your inaction!"

"I did not kill him. Nothing I could have done could have saved him. Why did you do nothing, you coward? You've just saved yourself just like me!"

"Lies! You are a healer! You could have turned the undead and heal the old man!"

"Why are you even so concerned about the fate of the old healer?" Dlesyddion asked testily.

Supple-shed licked over the snout.

"I'm not interested in his fate. But I am interested in yours!"

Laughing, he threw back his head.

"What will people say in Sarun, when they learn that your inaction lead to Lo-Dres Dres´ death?"

Dlesyddion had not considered that. Despite the heat, he was shivering with cold sweat.

"That ... you wouldn´t dare!"

The Argonian laughed again.

"Hahaha you've destroyed my life, now I can get my revenge on you, I will watch them flog you and banish you! Maybe even execute you, oh yes!"

Dlesyddion wavered.

"That ... That can not be. ... And I will not let that happen ... I tell you to hold your tongue!"

Anger welled up in him. He would not let his life destroyed by this slave. He has maybe once been his uncle. But now he was a slave who knew too much.

"Hahaha you want to give me orders? I do not belong to you, what are you going to do now? Heal me? Haha! That's all you can, Sydd, the little mage!"

Something broke in Dlesyddion. He had ... called him Sydd. Not like the others because they did not regard him as an adult. Supple-Scales had called him Sydd. To offend him. All of the love and affection for his former uncle in his heart has evolved into burning hatred.

With a cry of rage, he rushed towards the Argonian. The slave dodged him and let him run into the void. He kicked him in the knee. Dlesyddion went to the ground in pain. He was grabbed by the hair.

"Did you think you would have an easy time, because I am a slave?"

The Argonian teared him into the air and threw him towards a wall. Dlesyddion could barely hold up his arms protectively. The impact made him groggy, but instinctively formed in his right hand a healing spell. Quickly he had shaken off the stupor and dodged a stomp with a roll. He bumped into the one leg the Argonians stood upon and brought him down. When he was on his feet again, he picked up the scaly tail of his opponent. He hoped to be able to pull him through the room, but he had not reckoned with the power of Argonian.

With a sound of surprise, he was torn from his feet as a jolt went through the tail with many spikes. His hands were torn up. Finally, the Argonian was back on his feet and pounced on him. He pushed him to the ground, Dlesyddion could not defend himself.

"Just try to heal this wound!" Cried Supple-Scales him contemptuously in the face.

He opened his mouth bristling with many sharp teeth, lowered his head and bit the Dunmer in the shoulder.

Dlesyddion screamed in pain. Blood gushed from the wound and soaked his clothes. The Argonian had to have hurt a vein. Dlesyddion screamed louder when the slave reinforced his bite. He felt his strength with the blood flowed out of him. With his last powers he struck with his left hand after Supple-Scales´ face, took aim at his eyes. With his right hand he was trying to heal himself. But he inflicted himself even more cuts and wounds by the horns of the Argonian opn the side of his head, while the Argonian again tore his shoulder open. The blood loss was noticeable. His punches lost their power, and he could no longer concentrate on the healing spell, but the Argonians wouldn´t go off of him.

Feeble Dlesyddion´s left hand fell. It landed on the face of Argonian. Was this the end? If only this cursed Lo-Dres had taught him the magic of destruction. He didn´t want to die! If he had only the power to defend himself ...


... the second gift. A great choice! I love it! Now that I fulfilled my part of the bargain, I will come to thee. Soon. And claim my payment ...


Dlesyddion did not know if it was because of his heizy perception, but his left hand suddenly felt strange warm. He felt how the Argonians loosened his bite. Suddenly he felt an unknown force in himself. His palm glowed. His will to survive turned into hatred for his enemy. Lightheaded from blood loss, he felt Magicka flowed from his left hand. It felt like it was on fire. The smell of burning flesh rose to his nostrils. The Argonian left him and screamed in pain. Something hissed and burned. Dlesyddion could not see what. Through a veil he saw how Supple-Scales stood up and ran away. He was too dazed to see where to. His right hand formed a healing spell and his wounds were closed. But he had lost much blood. The cries of the slaves did not prevent darkness to envelope him ...


Someone was shaking his shoulder. He heard excited voices, but did not understand what was said. Dlesyddion opened his eyes. It was his uncle Codremu. Some men from his caravan accompanied him. It took a moment before he understood what his uncle told him.

"... All the blood? What are you doing with Supple-Scales? What happened?"

Dlesyddion still looked around dazed. He tried to stand, but he was too weak. He looked around and saw the Argonian cowering in a corner, bent in pain. His face ...

He held his hands in front of his face, but Dlesyddion could still see it. The left half was burned. The scales had fallen. Raw and undercooked meat covered it now. Some horns on the side were splintered by the heat. His left eye was milky white. It lacked the iris and pupil. He whimpered terribly.

Dlesyddion looked at his left hand. He had done it. But how was that possible?

"He attacked me! He's gone crazy!"

Codremu gave him his hand and helped him up.

"We ... Lo-Dres Dres could defeat the bonelord. But then ... undead! There were too many. They overwhelmed me and Lo-Dres ... He has sacrificed himself for us ... he's dead"

A tear rolled down his cheek. He did not know whether it was real or not.

"I was just able to keep them at bay from me and Supple-scales. I managed to save him and myself. When we returned back up here, this lizard jumped at my throught! He must be crazy! He has almost killed me! "

Dlesyddion gave the cowering Supple-Scales on the ground a kick. His former uncle did not react to it. His real uncle, Codremu looked at him in disbelief and amazement.

"That can not be! Lo-Dre's dead? Oh, no, I ... I do not know what to say ... And what about him?"

Dlesyddion looked disdainfully down at the Argonian. He had once been his uncle, but now he was nothing more than a slave. A slave who knew too much.

"The horror was too great for him. Mad with fear! Has screamed like a banshee. Best you cut his tongue out ... and you'll get rid of him as soon as possible."

Codremu sighed loudly and extended. He rubbed his face and ran his fingers through his hair nervously. Tears glistened in his eyes.

"Well, there is a least a consolation." Codremu said.

"And what?" Dlesyddion looked at him with tired sad eyes.

Codremu pointed to the burned face of Argonian.

"Before his death, he taught destruction magic to you, I'm glad Dlesyddion that you could prevail at last."

He looked sadly at Supple-Scales who was still whimpering terribly.

"Come. Let us go home."
This post was last modified: July 1st 2013, 11:03 AM by Idriar

Who controls the Septim crown?
Who keeps the Allesian Heresy down?
We do, we do

Who knocked Yokuda off the maps?
Who keeps the Dwemer under wraps?
We do, we do

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The following 3 users Like Idriar's post:
Horizon Seeker, Iogairn, Triskele
Post #36810

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Brilliant. The dialogue, the plot, the character growth of Dlessydion (I dare not say Sydd :) ). If I had to pick out one flaw it would be that some of the lines were too clumsy: "Hahaha you've destroyed my life, now I can get my revenge on you". But apart from that brilliant.

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light

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Post #36830

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Thank you @Iogairn. Yeah in a review some lines are not all that proper english, but I will leave it like that. But for the third and final part I will bear your remarks in mind. Be prepared! Part 3 is coming... ;)
This post was last modified: February 9th 2013, 10:25 AM by Idriar

Who controls the Septim crown?
Who keeps the Allesian Heresy down?
We do, we do

Who knocked Yokuda off the maps?
Who keeps the Dwemer under wraps?
We do, we do

Like this post Reply
Post #36864

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Ebonheart Pact
I like the relationships between the characters, even if they are full of bitterness and anger! It makes them seem real although I do feel sorry for them. I also caught the Daedric mask and Omayn reference!

Character Profiles:
Endaros Ilmori - Buoyant Armiger
Sunrio - Aldmeri Justiciar

Taren Jucanis - Imperial Deserter (Used for The Black Shroud RP)
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