My TES Story: editing, suggestions, etc.

[The Ninja]

Here is a story I've been working on for a while. I'm thinking that "Bowbender's Oblivion" is a good title for it, but know that I've done this in Microsoft Word. It looks a WHOLE lot better in that format. Some chapters are rather short (one page long in Word), but here it is:

Introduction

In the darkness of a dungeon, Thoron awoke to the cold feel of stone, shackles upon his wrists, and a sinister voice.
“Hear that?” the dark character taunted, “Those are the guards coming for you!”
Thoron’s deep blue eyes were appalled at the sight of the prisoner in the cell across the way from his. The menacing being’s flesh was grey; he had frowning red eyes and an evil smirk.
Thoron was a Bosmer, or Wood Elf. Wood Elves were shorter than most races, and there were no better bowmen in all the land. Thoron’s dark brown hair gathered behind his head, and his muscles had managed to stay toned in prison, because of his exercise technique.
Thoron realized what the convict meant; his pointed ears heard the chinking of metal armor and chainmail coming down the steps to the right of his cell. He could now see that there were four Blades* escorting the emperor, Uriel Septim!

* See “Blades” under “Factions” in the index.



Chapter I: The Escape

Hanging from Uriel Septim’s neck was the Amulet of Kings, which is passed down from emperor to emperor. Uriel Septim was considered the last of his bloodline.
Suddenly, the leading Blade, a female Breton* who was fair skinned and dark haired, ordered Thoron to “stand back.” She pulled out a key and went into his cell, her armor clanking as she walked. Not paying notice to the sackcloth clothed prisoner, she looked at the left wall in the cell. She seemed to be searching for something. By this time the other Blades and the emperor had entered the chamber as well.
The elderly Uriel Septim spoke to Thoron in a deep and worried tone, “You… You are the one from my dreams. This must be the day…” Confused, Thoron watched the leading Blade as she pressed a brick in the wall. The wall slid backward, revealing a secret passage!
“Sire we must keep moving,” The chief Blade calmly stated. The group moved, single file, through the entrance of the secret passage.
“This must be your lucky day, prisoner,” the last Blade, a Redguard**, tall and strong, told the amazed Bosmer as he unlocked his shackles. “The name’s Baurus.” Thoron felt belittled, for the Blade was tall and muscular, the Wood Elf lean and short. The freed prisoner followed behind the group, admiring the architecture which surrounded him. The passage was roughly tiled with concrete columns rising to the ceiling with stairs here and there. The party gradually decreased in altitude as they traveled down the first set of stairs, when Thoron heard a commotion ahead.
“It’s the Mythic Dawn!” shouted Baurus, drawing his sword. Thoron rushed past the single file line to see the two leading Blades, neither of which were the captain, slicing away at an agent of the Mythic Dawn***.
Lying next to them was the body of the chief Blade! The red robed victim of the slicing swords had now fallen and Baurus muttered a short prayer over the corpse, and gave a speech, “Renault gave her life to save the emperor. Let us continue on, for that is what she would have wanted.”
As the trail of three Blades and Uriel Septim went on, Thoron picked up the katana out of Renault’s lifeless hand, admired the reflection of light

* See “Breton” under “Races” in the Index.
** See “Redguard” under “Races” in the Index.
*** See “Mythic Dawn” under “Factions” in the Index.
off the surface of the curved blade for a moment, and joined up with the group once more, only to find that they had locked the gate to the next passage.
Baurus called back to Thoron, “Find a way out of here, but don’t follow us,” and he disappeared around the next corner.
“Great,” Thoron muttered to himself. Suddenly, a surprisingly large rat scurried out of a hole in the wall where a brick used to be. The savage rodent attacked the surprised Wood Elf. He sliced the savage rat in half and observed the hole from which it came. A dim light came from the other side!

Chapter II: Rise of The Bowman

With one kick, he broke through the wall into a dimly lit room; a skeleton and its former weapons sat on Thoron’s left. Another rat which had been disrupted by his loud entrance, hissed at him from the far right corner of the room.
Above his head was soil and stone, and next to the wall where the skeleton sat, a shield, a spiky mace, and a bow with a quiver full of arrows lay beside it. The rat which was now about to attack, stood, hissed once more, and charged from across the room. Being a Bosmer, his instincts led him to drop the katana and his hands found the bow and an arrow. He turned back to his opponent which was still scurrying towards its intruder and pulled the arrow back on the string. His natural skill let a well-timed arrow whistle through the air and hit its mark. He beamed, for he still had his race’s legendary ability with the bow.
Thoron glanced at the skeleton, and then at Renault’s katana. He took the katana along with the other arrows in the quiver and readied himself for another encounter of opposition. While gazing around the room, he noticed the light source of many small bright blue glowing mushrooms dimly illuminating the cavern walls. At that moment, he spotted a strange shape in the corner of the room. His blue eyes adjusted, and there he saw a chest (One of the qualities that make Bosmer so great with the bow and arrow is their keen eyesight). He ran his fingers across the old, wooden and rugged surface, looking for booby traps. After the conclusion that there were none, Thoron opened the trunk and found a few gold coins. These were the first pieces of money he had seen since he had been thrown in prison, and he welcomed them gladly.
He scouted the room once more and distinguished a door, old and rotting, under moss growth. He pried the door open to reveal a tunnel. Arrow ready, he cautiously followed the passage until he came to an opening. There was firelight and dancing shadows on the wall. Only grunts and muttering was heard, and with one peek, Thoron discovered two goblins! Goblins were and always will be beastly and uncivilized creatures.
He assessed the situation and stealthily fired two arrows in succession. The goblins fell, not realizing exactly what hit them. The proud elf emerged from the shadows and retrieved the two arrows from the corpses. He took meat off its resting place on a stone and ate. It wasn’t great but it was better than the daily bowl of grub he received in prison. As he ate, he discovered a mortar and pestle along with a few empty flasks and, since Wood Elves have slight talent in Alchemy, snatched it from where it sat.
He continued on through more winding tunnels which led him to a large cavern. In it were three Goblins, one of which was a Goblin Shaman. He took cover behind a large stalagmite and fired an arrow at one goblin which no one was watching at that moment. It was a success! He had downed the enemy with a distracted Shaman and an eating guard left unaware. He drew his katana, leapt out of the shadows at the feasting creature and silently slit his throat. He glanced back at the Shaman to see him muttering some chant over a pot of boiling skulls. Thoron sneaked up behind his last opponent, blade drawn, and thrust it through the Shaman. The goblin slumped to the ground. All opposition had been removed.

Chapter III: The Mythic Dawn

Thoron carried on through the next cavity which led back to man-made concrete walls with columns from the ground to the ceiling. He couldn’t believe his eyes! Walking along this passage were the three Blades and Uriel Septim! One of these Blades saw him staring from the shadows.
“Defend the Emperor!” he shouted, drawing his sword.
“No, wait!” Thoron had no intension of harming them, “It is I, look!” Thoron stepped out of the darkness. He thought he saw Uriel Septim smile.
“What a fantastic coincidence,” the emperor mumbled, “We could use your help.”
Baurus handed him a torch reluctantly, wondering how he found them again.
“No, thank you,” Thoron refused, “My eyesight makes those unnecessary. I’ll be your scout, how’s that?” Thoron felt bolder now. With a nod from Baurus’s head, the Bosmer rushed ahead through the next door and into the next room. Something didn’t feel right. A nerve chilling shiver ran down his back. He couldn’t tell what it was but he knew something was up, therefore he perched himself upon the wall, knocked an arrow, and aimed for whatever being existed in the cold dungeon in front of him. As the group of Blades and the Uriel Septim came through the door, there was a silence breaking yell.
“ATTACK!” came the cry, and characters rushed from cover. It was the Mythic Dawn. Two arrows whistled across the room, downing two of the five red robed enemies. The guards slashed two others and went for the last foe, yelling courageously. The last opponent held a staff in his hand and readied himself for the two raging Blades.
“No, wait!” Baurus warned his comrades. But it was too late; a ball of roaring fire shot from the enemy’s hand and forced back a now helpless Blade. He fell to the floor, smoke rising from the scorched being. Another whistle was heard, and it pinned the mage’s cloak to the wall. While he was breaking free Baurus rushed, sliced, and felled the last adversary.
After a moment of grief and silence for the fallen companion, Thoron leapt down from his perch and moved on with the now two remaining blades and Uriel Septim.
They came to a set of wide stairs, looking for a gate to the last channel to freedom. They saw the gate but when they observed a lock and chain holding it shut, Baurus called to Thoron.
“Get the emperor out-!” But his call was interrupted from the battle cries of more Mythic Dawn agents, yelling their war cries and clanging their swords with more swords. Thoron pulled Uriel Septim into a small, enclosed room and was about to draw his arrow toward the clanking of metal against metal when the emperor spoke to him, with fear in his eyes.
“There isn’t much time left, now. Take this,” Emperor Septim handed the Amulet of Kings to the confused Wood Elf. It was lighter than it looked.
“Take it to Jauffre at Weynon Priory, everything will be explained by him-” A Mythic Dawn agent darted from a secret door and, with one blow killed the emperor.

Chapter IV: Freedom

Outraged by this tragedy, Thoron drew Captain Renault’s katana and soared through the air toward the surprised adversary. The sound of cutting flesh led the last two Blades, who had been victorious in their battle, to Thoron’s location.
“No! The emperor!” cried Baurus. “How could this happen?” He saw the Amulet of Kings hanging from Thoron’s wrist. “What are you doing with that?” Baurus was suspicious.
“The emperor gave it to me,” Thoron stated innocently “and told me to take it to Jauffre in Weynon Priory.”
Seeing Thoron as guiltless, Baurus gave Thoron a key and said, “If that is true, then do so.”
Thoron nodded, but before he left he handed Captain Renault’s katana to the depressed Redguard, “I think you should have this… in memory of your fallen captain.” Baurus took the blade with a miserable look in his eye, seeing now that the Bosmer had feeling for the losses of their quest. Then Thoron, key in hand, disappeared through the secret door toward the gate to the sewers.
“All of Tamriel* rests in your hands!” Baurus called after the Wood Elf.

Minutes later, Thoron emerged from the mouth of the sewers into the fresh air of freedom. He gazed into the sky of day and soaked in the welcomed sunlight. Then his mission was remembered.
“If I go to Weynon Priory by horse,” thought the Bosmer, “it would take a day. But if by foot, it would take three.” He couldn’t get a horse with money, because he had lack of it. And he certainly didn’t want to steal one.
“I’ll just have to walk,” he thought, and he started off by swimming across the moat of the imperial city. He didn’t have a problem with walking, for he loved nature and physical exercise is what he needed after his years in prison. Speaking of which, he was still wearing his sackcloth clothing. So he looked for ways to get money.
His first idea was to pick plants and flowers for ingredients with which he could make and sell potions. So, as he traveled he picked items which he knew would make high quality potions. With these articles he used the mortar and pestle, which he obtained in the caves, to crush and mix them into combinations and put them in the flasks that he also obtained with the mortar and pestle. From the process he created two energy potions from different grains and nectars.
Most know that men don’t like the bland taste of greens and grains alone, and want meat on which to feast; and because Thoron was a Wood

* Tamriel is the province of which Uriel Septim ruled.
Elf, the natural instinct to acquire meat was to hunt. So Thoron ventured off the road and into the wilderness until he discovered two bucks. He hid among the tall grass and drew his arrow. The first target lifted its head to look for danger, but could see none. The deer fell to the ground, the projectile protruding from his side. In a state of alarm, the second of the prey bounded away to safety. Thoron gathered the meat of the dead quarry and returned to the road to continue to Weynon Priory. By nightfall his arms were nearly full of dry, dead wood which he had gathered along the road for a fire.
On the side of the road he built his light source, his heat; eagerly he roasted his meat. The first bite flooded his taste buds with flavors that would only make your mouth water in vain. It was Thoron’s best meal in over two years.

Chapter V: Zero Visibility

Continuing along the road at dawn, Thoron came across a small town. To the average eye it would seem vacant, but to the observant, such as Thoron, he could see that the crops had been recently irrigated. He left the main road past a sign. “Aleswell” it read. He alertly strode to the front of an inn-like building. There was a click as the latch flicked open to let in the curious Bosmer.
To the eye there seemed to be nobody inside, but to the ear voices came from all directions.
“Who are you?” an angry feminine voice spoke.
“I am Thoron, but where are you?” the puzzled elf searched for the person in the direction from which the voices came.
“I’m right in front of you! Oh, it doesn’t matter. That old rascal did this to us.” The voice came again.
“Who did what?” Thoron still searched for the origination of the voice.
“That stupid old wizard, Ancotar, has cast a spell on us and all the towns’ people are now invisible! -Oh, I’m sorry for not giving my name. I’m Diram Serethi, the innkeeper.”
“All right, Diram. Is there any way I may be able to help?” the Wood Elf inquired.
“If you could get Ancotar to turn us back to our normal state, then I will be glad to help you in return in any way I can.” Diram assured. “He lives in a small tower just a bit southeast from here.”
Thoron rushed out the door to find the wizard and inform him of the mess he’s caused. The tower was in sight from the door of the inn, and after a quick slide down hill on which the town sat he was in front of the towers entrance. He cautiously entered and climbed the stairs to the next level.
“Who are you?” an old voice questioned, “I don’t want whatever you’re selling.”
“Are you the wizard Ancotar?” Thoron asked.
“Yes, I am.” came an invisible reply.
“I’m here to ask you to reverse the spell you’ve cast on the people of Aleswell.”
“The people- what about them? I haven’t cast any spell on them.”
“Yes, you have; they are all invisible, like yourself.” The Bosmer explained.
“Oh, if that’s the case then fine! Wait here… I kind of liked being unseen,” The wizard’s voice trailed off as he walked to his room. Thoron expected more disagreement and argument from the wizard. “Take this scroll and when you read it aloud the spell will be reversed.”
“Thank you, sir,” and Thoron left.

“Diram! Read this aloud,” Thoron held the scroll out in front of him, standing in the midst of the Aleswell inn once more. Suddenly the scroll slipped from his grip and opened, it looked like it was hovering in mid-air. Diram’s voice rang loud and clear with words that he couldn’t comprehend. With a flash of light, the inhabitants of Aleswell became visible. Diram was a Dunmer*, blue skinned and red eyed, as most Dunmer were. Her dark brown hair hung neatly from the sides of her head.
The Dark Elf gazed at her now visible hands then grinned, “Thank you! What can I do to help you, now?”
“I could use some supplies and decent clothes. Also, if I could barter with you, that would be good enough for me.” Thoron spent the next few hours selling his potions and taking provisions for the rest of his journey. The Bosmer greeted the smooth feel of non-sackcloth clothes as he slipped on a dark green shirt and brown pants. When he returned to the main road, he was a little richer and well supplied. But the biggest priority had never left his thoughts. Weynon Priory was his goal.

*See “Dunmer” under “Races” in the Index.

Chapter VI: The Bandits

Thoron traveled down the main road until dark, and, because of the urgency, the Wood Elf continued to walk during the night even though the risk was higher. He pulled out a loaf of bread to devour, when a sharp whistle reached his ear. He knew what this sound meant. He leapt to his right in a flash, landing before the falling bread hit the soil, narrowly dodging a dark arrow. His eyes made out a dark character standing beside a tree, with a bow.
Another whistle was heard, and another dodge was made when suddenly another opponent, darkly dressed, dashed from some bushes close by. With him he wielded a longsword*, glimmering in the moonlight, and was swinging it at the Wood Elf.
Thoron was now dodging both blade and arrow. He couldn’t take care of the opposing archer at the moment, so his first target was the blade wielder, who seemed to be a Khajiit**. As the foe lifted the sword above his head for the next swing, Thoron struck his undefended spot. The enemy now dropped his sword and rolled on the ground holding his belly in pain.
The next order of business was the archer. Thoron turned to face his next opponent only to see that he had taken off, sprinting down the road. The Wood Elf drew his bow with an arrow and took aim. He eased his grip on the projectile, letting it slip out into the night sky, homing in on its fleeing victim. The body in the distance crashed to the ground and moved no more.
Thoron returned to the recovering swordsman who still lay on the road and seized his money pouch which hung from its owner’s belt. The Bosmer jogged to the dead archer and recovered ammunition for his bow as well as more money. Glancing at the bow of the bandits and back to his own, Thoron realized how old and out of shape his bow was. The metal portions were covered in rust and the string was fraying. These traits lead our hero to snatch the bow off of his lifeless adversary. Then he continued down the road in the night’s blanket of darkness; Weynon Priory should be reached in a short while.

* See “Swords” under “Weapons” in the Index.
** See “Khajiit” under “Races” in the Index.
Chapter VII: Weynon Priory

By the time Thoron reached Weynon Priory, the sun was dawning. Our hero inquired of a guard some information.
“Excuse me; do you know where I can find Jauffre?” The town guard pointed to a chapel, tall and tidy, with cottage-like construction. Thoron muttered a quick token of thanks and headed into the church.
Upon entry, a monk was praying near the stained glass window. The priest stood and turned, welcoming the guest with a cheerful grin.
“Pardon me, but I was told that Jauffre was here,” Thoron stated.
“Oh, I’m sorry, he just left for his quarters across the square, you should find him there,” smiled the monk.
“Thank you,” and the Bosmer left the church.

The so called “square” was merely a cobblestone circle with a well in the center. The chapel, Jauffre’s house, the stables, and the road on which our hero entered were positioned along its circumference.
Thoron knocked upon the residence and waited, when another monk answered the door.
“Hello, how may I assist you?” the brown robed cleric questioned.
“I am searching for Jauffre; it is a matter of high importance,” the Wood Elf declared.
“Right this way,” the friendly monk gestured for Thoron to enter. The humble guide led the Bosmer up a set of wooden stairs and to a room where an Imperial* man in a white robe sat at his desk and looked up from his paper and pen.
“You have a visitor,” the guide told the man in at the desk and left. Thoron made his way to the desk and placed the Amulet of kings on the furnished wood.
“Oh my, what has happened to the emperor?” Jauffre demanded.
“The Mythic Dawn has assassinated him,” the Bosmer informed. “With his dying breath, Uriel Septim ordered me to find you and deliver this to you.” Thoron pointed to the deep red amulet.
“This means that you must do something else for us,” Jauffre rose
from his seat and made his way to a large cedar chest, sitting at the side of the room. “You must journey to Kvatch, and escort a man named Martin

*See “Imperial” under “Races” in the Index.
Septim back to us. Everyone thought that the emperor had no heirs but he had secretly hidden one away.”
“Another voyage?” the bowmen thought. “I don’t mean to turn down the opportunity, but I was hoping to rest-” Thoron’s jaw dropped in awe as Jauffre opened the chest. Inside were Blade quality weapons, armor, and ammunition.
“Take anything you need,” Jauffre offered, “and you may rest for a while if you must.” The head monk called from the top of the staircase, “Brother, will you bring me three Blades?”
“Blades?!” Thoron thought. “I’ll be ready in a few minutes,” the Wood Elf’s countenance changed tremendously.
Thoron’s hands gripped a seemingly brand new steel bow from Jauffre’s supply chest, testing the string and performance of the fine piece of weaponry. Also, he equipped himself with armor made of mythril, a metal light as a feather and as hard as dragon’s scales. In the center of his chest piece was the face of a wolf. For his bow, he discarded the wooden arrows, which he carried and obtained steel arrows, which, in Thoron’s opinion, were almost as good as he could get. For his journey to Kvatch, he was given a horse of his own. Brown and white spotted, like a pattern on a cow’s hide.
Jauffre informed the Bosmer, “The Blades are ready and are to guard you on your way to Kvatch and back.”
“Thank you for all your help,” shouted Thoron as he left on his own horse. He and the three Blade escorts galloped away from the small town, the sun setting on the horizon ahead of them.

Chapter VIII: Onward to Kvatch

Riding on horseback was all the rest Thoron needed; his legs were sore from traveling three days on foot. While his body rested, his eyes scouted the trees and bushes, watching for ambushes and surprise attacks.
After an hour of silence, a group of three bandits leapt from the bushes to find that their targets were Blades, strong and mighty. They dashed back through the brush, fleeing from certain death.
Closing in on Kvatch, Thoron noticed the sky’s changing in appearance. The clear blue radiance now was blocked from view by flaming orange clouds, swirling in the sky. As the party came into a clearing, they could see Kvatch sitting on its hill with smoke rising from inside the city walls. Thoron gently prodded his steed with his heel, increasing his speed. The Blade escorts followed suit.
Thoron came across a hysterical man, running in the opposite direction of the smoking city. “Run for your lives! Kvatch is devastated!” He yelled, and passed the baffled Bosmer in his mythril armor.
Thoron and his escorts reaching the bottom of the towering hill, found a small camp of villagers, who bore worried expressions.
“Is there a Martin Septim here?” called Thoron over the small crowd. All of the community shook their heads. The Blades and the Wood Elf began ascending the steep hill, following the winding road to the crest. Upon reaching the summit, Thoron noticed the few remnants of Kvatch’s military, behind their defending pikes, which were aimed in the direction of an odd structure. The structure was like a portal of fire, glowing red and orange. At its sides were two curved pillars of scorched marble, which seemed to be feeding it with energy out of the earth. Strangely enough, it sat in front of Kvatch’s main gate.
From this portal-like formation emerged child sized creatures with heads like bats, snarling savagely. From their scrawny arms protruded clawed hands. Their bare chests puffed up in aggression, and the only articles of clothing on the creatures were worn down knickers.
“Kill the scamps!” shouted a soldier, drawing his sword and charging to meet the wild beings. The combatant was joined by other close combat soldiers who slashed together at the life forms. A remaining archer fired his arrows from behind the shielding pikes. Thoron aided them in battle by carefully taking down a couple enemies, his arrows nailing their victims with great force.
After the wave of enemies ceased, Thoron dismounted and approached the tired archer. “Who is your leader?” he inquired.
“Captain Savlian Matius,” the archer pointed to an Imperial who appeared to be in his thirties. Thoron trod on the mystifying glowing soil, hot to the touch, approaching the guard who watched the mysterious portal anxiously.
“Captain Savlian Matius?” the Wood Elf waited for a reply.
“Yes?” spoke the captain.
“My name is Thoron, I was sent by Jauffre to escort a certain Martin Septim back to Weynon Priory. He was not at the refugee camp.”
“He must be inside the city with the others,” Savlian concluded. “If we could only close this blasted gate, we could enter the city and get them out.” His voice trailed off.
“Maybe I could help,” suggested the courageous Bosmer. “How would you close the portal?”
“I’m not sure, but I think it has to be closed from the inside,” guessed the captain. “We’ve already sent a team but nothing has happened and we haven’t heard from them since they were sent in.”
After a moment of thought, Thoron volunteered, “I’ll go.”

Chapter IX: The Planes of Oblivion

The Blades followed Thoron to the front of the portal, following his lead. Thoron was inches away from the glowing doorway, not knowing where it led. With a deep breath, he summoned his courage, opened his eyes, and stepped into the door with the Blades close behind.
After a flash of red light, a dreadful landscape greeted his vision. He was standing on scorching sand, with red grass growing to both his left and right. Dark and red clouds over him appeared to be concentrated above a horrible castle in the distance. He also observed what seemed like seas of molten rock, hot and glowing; and where there were rocks and boulders, there were creeping, spiked vines that lunged at any nearby victims. All of this to be taken in at once was, to say the least, paralyzing, not to mention the scorched corpse of a soldier lying at Thoron’s feet! Another warrior beyond the amazed Bosmer was fending off more of those “scamps” that Thoron had recently fought. The soldier kept the creatures at bay with fierce swings from his longsword.
Thoron came back to reality, quickly drew his bow, and set the arrow on the string. With a shriek, the arrow left its owners fingers and soared to its target. One scamp fell to the ground with another, as the savage blows from the surviving soldier were unstoppable. Thoron remembered that his Blade escorts were behind him, and, with a glance, noticed that they were still stunned from the environment in which they stood.
“Hey!” shouted the Wood Elf, “wake up and join the fight!”
The Blades, embarrassed from their stupefaction, charged at the rest of the, now helpless scamps, who fell victim to the blows of the furious Blades.
After the fight was over, the surviving warrior approached Thoron and stated the information he contained.
“I am Ilend Vonius, I was part of a party sent into this nightmare to close the gate. I’m sure you’ve seen one of our fallen companions. The other was taken off by the enemy to the prison tower yonder.” The panting soldier pointed to one of the smaller towers that branched off the main structure.
“We are here to close this gate as well,” Thoron informed.
“I may appear tired and worn but I will help you with this task if you need me.” Ilend quit his panting and puffed up his chest, showing his strength and worth to the group of four.
“It is ok, good friend,” Thoron gestured toward the portal behind them; “You deserve rest, return to refuge and do so.”
“You are sure?” Ilend asked.
“Go,” and the Bosmer continued with the Blades toward the metal castle in the distance. Though Thoron could sense how sick the earth was here, he managed to pick samples of the blood-red grass as he went, for it might contain a valued alchemic property. Scamps were scattered everywhere like ants, patrolling the barren wasteland. After numerous battles that ended with the death of a scamp, they reached the entrance to the gigantic tower. A character that seemed to be guarding this door was dressed in what looked like iron that glowed red at the edges. Seeing the party as the enemy he leapt at them with a claymore*, which was the same color as his armor, raised above his head. The three Blades charged the approaching enemy, shields raised. The opponent’s massive sword clanged upon a sheet of defensive steel, tossing its owner aside. Another Blade struck the enemy during his period of weakness; a heavy sword takes time to swing. But the Blades sword appeared to bounce off the red glowing armor with no damage done. The Bosmer, nauseous from sensing the ill ground beneath him, watched all of this and noticed the weak spots: the enemy had the least protection near his armpit and neck. Then, as the claymore was lifted into the air for the next blow, an arrow struck in the underarm of the berserker, causing him to drop his weapon and yell in agony. The foe rose to his feet in rage and charged a Blade, whom he shoved out of the way. He was actually heading for Thoron.
Realizing this, Thoron tried to draw his arrow in time, but there was not enough of it for him to manage. Before the enemy limbs struck him, he ducked, dropped his bow, and rolled backward. Once on his feet, the opponent was already charging him once more. An ironclad fist neared the left temple of the Bosmer’s head, when the wood elf’s forearm stopped the attacking arm in its tracks. This all was happening quickly, when the other arms did the same as seconds before. After Thoron’s second block, he intertwined his right arm with the foe’s left, then applied pressure upward. This was a non-normal way for the joint to bend, thus the enemy lost focus and looked upward in pain. During this brief stop in concentration, Thoron swept the foe’s legs, and, arrow in hand, stabbed the antagonist in the neck. He squirmed, and then stood still.
The Blades were amazed at this display in skill, leading their jaws to drop in astonishment. Thoron regained his breath, retrieved his bow, and fought the urge to retch. The door to the metal castle was left unprotected, open to the party.

*See “Claymore” under “Weapons” in the Index.

Chapter X: The Blood Feast

Upon swinging the heavy slabs of stone open, a horrid scene greeted the invader’s eyes. Thirty feet directly in front of them was a column of flame and heat, rising to the top of the tower. Everything shone a dull and eerie red, making the experience more frightening. In addition to this, the air was hot, and humid.
Suddenly, scamps that stood guard assaulted the astonished Blades. They were dispatched strategically and quickly.
Then a Blade spoke, “Orders? What will we do?”
Thoron thought a moment, and then replied. “We must close the gate to this vile realm. I’m guessing that this tower possesses the ability to shut it.” The Wood Elf observed his surroundings. “It looks like that is the only place we can go from here, besides backwards.” He pointed to another door to the right of the column of fire. With nods of agreement, the party made their way to that door.
When opened, they could see an inclining floor that wound around. Thoron led his guards up them, and reached a room with a few more scamps and one other guard that resembled the one at the entrance of the tower. This time, he did not hold a claymore, but rather a mace that was also made of the same material as his armor. Both were glowing red and his helmet was fashioned to have spikes protruding from the sides.
Thoron ordered for the Blades to take care of the scamps, and then drew his bow and arrow. While the guards sliced away at the miniature creatures, Thoron shot at the humanoid’s neck, since it was more vital than his armpit. After three consecutive arrows, the enemy fell, along with the rest of the diced up scamps.
“Hah! That showed the lot of ‘em!” a Blade said as he sheathed his sword. “Let’s keep going!” And he started to charge onward to the next door.
“Wait! There’s a-” but Thoron’s call was too late. As the Blade ran along, a spike trap in the wall sprung out, impaling the guard. The remaining party fell silent, partly in anger, partly in grief, and partly in disgust. “We must continue… We must…” Thoron shoved the sorrow out of his mind, fighting back tears. And he led the Blades through the safer part of the room.
The next ten minutes were taken up of scaling the next few floors, avoiding traps and dispatching enemies, until they came to the largest room they had entered. A double door stood at the end of the rectangular space, but between the group and that door were more traps, scamps and red armored guards. In that tremendous fight, one Blade was lost, and the other gained a minor injury. Thoron wanted to escape this terrible place with the remaining Blade, so he tried the double door, but it would not open. Frantic for escape, Thoron tried again, but nothing happened. He turned to look at the last guard.
“We have to stick together if we are to live. The only other way than this locked door is that access over there.”
“Right, I’m not too badly injured…” The Blade seemed to be in a mild state of shock, but he followed Thoron through the next door.
After they opened it, they saw a thin walkway, around three feet wide, which led to a thinner and shorter tower. This wouldn’t be a problem except for one fact: they were one-hundred feet above the ground. The guard followed the nimble Bosmer across warily, catching himself twice. It took two minutes for the Blade to cross, who was relieved when he reached the end of it, and moved hastily through the door to the smaller tower.
After entering, the pair of allies glanced upward to see a barbaric cage which held a living man, yelling and cursing at another one of the guards in sinister glowing armor. When the Wood Elf and his companion Blade saw this, they charged the incline. As soon as Thoron could, he released his arrow which plunged deep in the guard’s throat, while the Blade finished him off with a strike of his sword.
The man in the cage was frantic. “What are you doing here!? You must close the gate! The Deadra has the key! Forget about me and close the gate! Hurry!”
Thoron searched the dead personnel for the key, now knowing the name for the humanoid. Deadra. When he obtained the key, he approached the cage to let the man out, but the insane man shoved the Bosmer away. “Save yourselves I tell you! Close the gate!”
Seeing that it was no use to attempt further, Thoron left in a rush, the Blade close behind him. Seeing that he had to cross the thin walkway, both companions gulped, but mustered their courage to cross. For Thoron, this was easier, since he was used to scaling tall trees and things of the sort. Yet this was much higher than trees.
The short elf tried the key in the double doors once more, and was relieved to see that it worked. But this feeling did not last long, for on the other side of the door was the column of fire and two more floors to scale.
The duo climbed the walkway to a platform that shone a bright orange, like the flame which shot up in front of it. Guarding this platform was not an ironclad humanoid, but a robed one. No armor meant an easier kill, and they could also see the enemy’s face. His head was ugly as a troll’s, with blood-red melanin and devilish horns that sprouted from his skull. Thoron boldly drew his arrow. Before he released the projectile, the humanoid murmured something indistinctly and there appeared three more scamps!
“He must be some sort of mage!” Thoron concluded, and he sent his arrow straight into the shield of creatures. Two fell from Thoron’s weapon, and one from the Blade’s.
Then, in a moment of rage and revenge, the Blade rushed the mage and screamed, “For Kvatch, for my brother Blades, and for the Emperor!” A ball of fire was sent from the hands of the mage, searing the Blade who dropped to the ground, rolling to put out the magical flame. A whistle traveled across the expanse and pierced the foe’s hand.
“You will pay for that, with the hand which did that awful deed.” Thoron trotted over to the screaming opponent, and stabbed his other hand with another arrow. Shrieks which are indescribable emerged from the Deadra’s vocal chords, but ended when the bowman shoved another arrow into his throat.
The wood elf quickly came over to the rolling body, and called out to him. When the Blade heard him, he yelled, “Hot! Hot! Get this armor off of me!” Thoron ripped the robe of his adversary to use as gloves, and pulled the smoking metal off of the guard.


Chapter XI: Shutting the Gate


“The peak is in sight!” shouted Thoron to the unarmored Blade. He suffered only slight burns. There was no way to get to the next level, except for the circular, orange glowing stone slab that sat in front of the pair. “That must be a means of transportation, I’ll go first.” And Thoron stood on the inscribed platform. In a flash of orange light, the bowman was shot up to the level above, and gestured to his fellow fighter below. The same thing happened with him, and the two continued up the last rise. This ramp was made of a flesh-like substance, stretched from metallic spike to metallic spike. Uncomfortably, the group walked up the ramp and onto the last floor, which was given access to a spherical stone, scorched from being in the pillar of fire. Thoron asked for the gloves which had been used to take off and carry the soldier’s armor.
“The only way that I can see is to remove this tone from its place,” and Thoron snatched it out of the flames from where it hovered. Suddenly, the entire tower began to shake, and the flaming column grew larger. Thicker and fatter with flames it transformed. “Uh oh! I think that might have been the wrong move…” And an explosion of flame engulfed and blinded the two.

The next thing they knew, they were sitting in front of the pillars of scorched marble, which previously fed the gate to the hellish realm with energy. But there were no more signs of that gate, or the red clouds that used to hover above in the sky. Only dark grey clouds remained.
“Hurrah! The gate is closed!” shouted the last of the Kvatch guard behind their defensive pikes. The Captain of the Kvatch guard, Savlian Matius, rushed to Thoron in front of the gate to the city.
“My greatest thanks to you, Thoron! Now we can counter-attack! Charge! For Kvatch!” And the entire remaining force of guards opened the gate and rushed through the threshold. Inside were multiple scamps, and another mage Deadra. The battle that ensued gave the victory to Thoron and the Kvatch guard, and they made their way through the city, burning and in ruins. The only thing that remained standing was the chapel, which was locked and barred. Savlian Matius pounded on the door and spoke to the other guards inside, asking them to open the door. When they did, smiles shone on everyone’s faces. They were rescued.



Index

Factions:
Blades: The Blades were the elite guard, who usually protected the emperor or did other tasks of the highest importance.
Mythic Dawn: The Mythic Dawn is a cult of evil members who wear long red and black robes and practice idolatry.

Races:
Humans:
Breton: Fair and light skinned, Bretons are humans who have talent in magic arts.
Imperial: Average humans who are rounded in all forms of battle.
Nord: Strong humans, resembling Vikings and Scandinavians because of their usual blonde hair and resistance to the cold.
Redguard: Dark skinned humans who excel in close combat with blades, such as swords or axes; some have talent with bows.
Humanoids:
Argonian: An odd race of reptile-like beings who can breathe underwater, are immune to disease, and are athletic.
Khajiit: These creatures resemble felines because of their fur and fangs, and are nearly as short as Wood Elves. They excel at sneaking, are agile, and are excellent thieves.
Orc: The Orc has a green skin with fangs and are strong, tough people. They excel in combat, especially when using their “Berserk” power.
Elves:
Altmer: Commonly referred to as “High Elves,” they are the tallest of all races. Their skin is a reflective golden and hair, a white or yellow. The entire race has much talent with magic.
Bosmer: Also known as “Wood Elves,” these individuals are shorter than most races (about 5 ft.). Gifted with agility and marksmanship, There are no better bowmen in all the land. There is a bit of talent in their blood that excels them in Alchemy.
Dunmer: This race is known as “Dark Elves,” who have talent with swords and Fire magic. They have grey or blue skin and black hair.


Weapons:
Bows:
Iron: Lowest quality, also the lightest with the exception of the Black Bow which is equivalent.
Steel: Higher quality than the iron bow as well as price and weight.
Deadric: Highest quality, price, and weight
Black: Usually used only by Black Bow Bandits. As light as the iron bow, but higher quality.
Blunt:
Mace: A spiky ball on the end of a shaft or connected with the chain to the shaft.
Axe: A heavy blade on a shaft, long or short.
Warhammer: Heavy and large hammers; much strength is needed to wield them.
Blades:
Dagger: Short double sided blades. The smallest blades.
Short Sword: Double sided blades that are around two feet in length.
Long Sword: Double sided blades that are around three feet in length.
Katana: One sided swords, around eighteen inches in length. Captain Renault used a katana.
Claymore: The longest and heaviest swords, which average to around four feet.

[Xavier]

Wow. That's long. I'll read it when I have time, it looks interesting.

[The Ninja]

Wow. That's long.

And guess what? It's not even halfway done!

Before entering the tower, the group of fighters noticed an inscription on the ragged surface of the stone doors. Being similar to Elven characters, Thoron picked out the words slowly.
“Bloo-um… Blood… Feast?” He stuttered. When the Blades heard this, their eyes popped out with fear.

Chapter X: The Blood Feast

Upon swinging the heavy slabs of stone open, a horrid scene greeted the invader’s eyes. Thirty feet directly in front of them was a column of flame and heat, rising to the top of the tower. Everything shone a dull and eerie red, making the experience more frightening. In addition to this, the air was hot, and humid.
Suddenly, scamps that stood guard assaulted the astonished Blades. They were dispatched strategically and quickly.
Then a Blade spoke, “Orders? What will we do?”
Thoron thought a moment, and then replied. “We must close the gate to this vile realm. I’m guessing that this tower possesses the ability to shut it.” The Wood Elf observed his surroundings. “It looks like that is the only place we can go from here, besides backwards.” He pointed to another door to the right of the column of fire. With nods of agreement, the party made their way to that door.
When opened, they could see an inclining floor that wound around. Thoron led his guards up them, and reached a room with a few more scamps and one other guard that resembled the one at the entrance of the tower. This time, he did not hold a claymore, but rather a mace that was also made of the same material as his armor. Both were glowing red and his helmet was fashioned to have spikes protruding from the sides.
Thoron ordered for the Blades to take care of the scamps, and then drew his bow and arrow. While the guards sliced away at the miniature creatures, Thoron shot at the humanoid’s neck, since it was more vital than his armpit. After three consecutive arrows, the enemy fell, along with the rest of the diced up scamps.
“Hah! That showed the lot of ‘em!” a Blade said as he sheathed his sword. “Let’s keep going!” And he started to charge onward to the next door.
“Wait! There’s a-” but Thoron’s call was too late. As the Blade ran along, a spike trap in the wall sprung out, impaling the guard. The remaining party fell silent, partly in anger, partly in grief, and partly in disgust. “We must continue… We must…” Thoron shoved the sorrow out of his mind, fighting back tears. And he led the Blades through the safer part of the room.
The next ten minutes were taken up of scaling the next few floors, avoiding traps and dispatching enemies, until they came to the largest room they had entered. A double door stood at the end of the rectangular space, but between the group and that door were more traps, scamps and red armored guards. In that tremendous fight, one Blade was lost, and the other gained a minor injury. Thoron wanted to escape this terrible place with the remaining Blade, so he tried the double door, but it would not open. Frantic for escape, Thoron tried again, but nothing happened. He turned to look at the last guard.
“We have to stick together if we are to live. The only other way than this locked door is that access over there.”
“Right, I’m not too badly injured…” The Blade seemed to be in a mild state of shock, but he followed Thoron through the next door.
After they opened it, they saw a thin walkway, around three feet wide, which led to a thinner and shorter tower. This wouldn’t be a problem except for one fact: they were one-hundred feet above the ground. The guard followed the nimble Bosmer across warily, catching himself twice. It took two minutes for the Blade to cross, who was relieved when he reached the end of it, and moved hastily through the door to the smaller tower.
After entering, the pair of allies glanced upward to see a barbaric cage which held a living man, yelling and cursing at another one of the guards in sinister glowing armor. When the Wood Elf and his companion Blade saw this, they charged the incline. As soon as Thoron could, he released his arrow which plunged deep in the guard’s throat, while the Blade finished him off with a strike of his sword.
The man in the cage was frantic. “What are you doing here!? You must close the gate! The Deadra has the key! Forget about me and close the gate! Hurry!”
Thoron searched the dead personnel for the key, now knowing the name for the humanoid. Deadra. When he obtained the key, he approached the cage to let the man out, but the insane man shoved the Bosmer away. “Save yourselves I tell you! Close the gate!”
Seeing that it was no use to attempt further, Thoron left in a rush, the Blade close behind him. Seeing that he had to cross the thin walkway, both companions gulped, but mustered their courage to cross. For Thoron, this was easier, since he was used to scaling tall trees and things of the sort. Yet this was much higher than trees.
The short elf tried the key in the double doors once more, and was relieved to see that it worked. But this feeling did not last long, for on the other side of the door was the column of fire and two more floors to scale.
The duo climbed the walkway to a platform that shone a bright orange, like the flame which shot up in front of it. Guarding this platform was not an ironclad humanoid, but a robed one. No armor meant an easier kill, and they could also see the enemy’s face. His head was ugly as a troll’s, with blood-red melanin and devilish horns that sprouted from his skull. Thoron boldly drew his arrow. Before he released the projectile, the humanoid murmured something indistinctly and there appeared three more scamps!
“He must be some sort of mage!” Thoron concluded, and he sent his arrow straight into the shield of creatures. Two fell from Thoron’s weapon, and one from the Blade’s.
Then, in a moment of rage and revenge, the Blade rushed the mage and screamed, “For Kvatch, for my brother Blades, and for the Emperor!” A ball of fire was sent from the hands of the mage, searing the Blade who dropped to the ground, rolling to put out the magical flame. A whistle traveled across the expanse and pierced the foe’s hand.
“You will pay for that, with the hand which did that awful deed.” Thoron trotted over to the screaming opponent, and stabbed his other hand with another arrow. Shrieks which are indescribable emerged from the Deadra’s vocal chords, but ended when the bowman shoved another arrow into his throat.
The wood elf quickly came over to the rolling body, and called out to him. When the Blade heard him, he yelled, “Hot! Hot! Get this armor off of me!” Thoron ripped the robe of his adversary to use as gloves, and pulled the smoking metal off of the guard.


Chapter XI: Shutting the Gate


“The peak is in sight!” shouted Thoron to the unarmored Blade. He suffered only slight burns. There was no way to get to the next level, except for the circular, orange glowing stone slab that sat in front of the pair. “That must be a means of transportation, I’ll go first.” And Thoron stood on the inscribed platform. In a flash of orange light, the bowman was shot up to the level above, and gestured to his fellow fighter below. The same thing happened with him, and the two continued up the last rise. This ramp was made of a flesh-like substance, stretched from metallic spike to metallic spike. Uncomfortably, the group walked up the ramp and onto the last floor, which was given access to a spherical stone, scorched from being in the pillar of fire. Thoron asked for the gloves which had been used to take off and carry the soldier’s armor.
“The only way that I can see is to remove this tone from its place,” and Thoron snatched it out of the flames from where it hovered. Suddenly, the entire tower began to shake, and the flaming column grew larger. Thicker and fatter with flames it transformed. “Uh oh! I think that might have been the wrong move…” And an explosion of flame engulfed and blinded the two.

The next thing they knew, they were sitting in front of the pillars of scorched marble, which previously fed the gate to the hellish realm with energy. But there were no more signs of that gate, or the red clouds that used to hover above in the sky. Only dark grey clouds remained.
“Hurrah! The gate is closed!” shouted the last of the Kvatch guard behind their defensive pikes. The Captain of the Kvatch guard, Savlian Matius, rushed to Thoron in front of the gate to the city.
“My greatest thanks to you, Thoron! Now we can counter-attack! Charge! For Kvatch!” And the entire remaining force of guards opened the gate and rushed through the threshold. Inside were multiple scamps, and another mage Deadra. The battle that ensued gave the victory to Thoron and the Kvatch guard, and they made their way through the city, burning and in ruins. The only thing that remained standing was the chapel, which was locked and barred. Savlian Matius pounded on the door and spoke to the other guards inside, asking them to open the door. When they did, smiles shone on everyone’s faces. They were rescued.

That is what I just wrote today. I just want my xbox back from repairs so I can walk throuugh it for more vivid description.

[Sithis]

Okay you will be able to earn a maximum of 20 fish sticks from me for my review...

Originality: .5/5-You really need to not talk about the main quest so much. In actuality, you don't even have to mention the MQ at all. We all know what will happen...but, you did go off a bit by mentioning zero visability and that got you half a fish stick.

Structure: 4.5/5-It's good because of your syntax and diction. The language should be a bit more descriptive though. C'mon, use some AP words.

Plot: 3.5/5-It is basically based on the game; thus, you will share the same score that Oblivion got for its storyline from official reviewers.

Character: 1.5/5- I see little feeling in any of the characters. Have you ever heard of Catch-22? Read that for a general idea of how Character development should be done.

You get 10/20 fishsticks for this. Go back to square 1.

[The Ninja]

Go back to square 1.

You just wish you could write the story as well as I did... jk... jk.

Its mainly for people who DON'T play Oblivion anyway.

If you want to, you could SUGGEST other side quests that I could fit in there.

And I bet that this story is better than Eregon. I just hated how predictable that movie was.

[Sithis]

Go back to square 1.

You just wish you could write the story as well as I did... jk... jk.

Its mainly for people who DON'T play Oblivion anyway.

If you want to, you could SUGGEST other side quests that I could fit in there.

And I bet that this story is better than Eregon. I just hated how predictable that movie was.

Kinda wish I could type it in the amount of time that you claimed to have typed it in...seriously.
Okay, well if it's for people that don't play Oblivion anyway(which will net you an extra 3.5 fishsticks), then you are on the right track. Of course, I would add only settlement quests or city quests(small ones;not like the Jemane series or Umbaccano(?) series). Using guild quests or long series quests is a no-no as it will seriously detract from the original story, where as using small quests wll give better subplots that will most likely take a chapter to right for each.
I would also consider using at least 1 master training quest and don't forget to use a daedric quest(use a "good" daedric quest though since you are supposed to be good, I guess. That would narrow it down to Azura, Nocturnal, Clavicus Vile[maybe] and Vaermina.]

Last off, it's Er"A"gon. You must consider that the person who wrote this was very young and it was his very first novel. Additionally, he wrote Eragon after all of the good ideas had been taken and so all of the critics just started calling Eragon the off-brand Riders of Penn...and such and such. I actually liked the first book considering how well it was written. Sure it was predictable, but what isn't these days. The only unpredictable books now are the satires, which rarely follow a logical flow of story b/c it focuses on satire so much. I hardly consider the movies as true depictions of a book now. If you want to read a terrible and predictable book, read the Twilight series.


That being said, when you write an actual original story, let me know(remember you can start it in any way you want. Maybe you could come to Cyrodiil on a ship[based on a mod] or you could start off as a member of a rogue mercenary group who gets screwed over, etc...just as a few suggestions) I will be more than happy to help you with the story.

[Grayfox]

I read a couple chapters, and its alright.

You should give more detail about the environment.

Someone who has never played oblivion wouldn't know where the characters where...

[Teinaava]

don't forget to use a daedric quest(use a "good" daedric quest though since you are supposed to be good, I guess. That would narrow it down to Azura, Nocturnal, Clavicus Vile[maybe] and Vaermina.]

I wouldn't really consider Vaermina to be a good daedra, as her sphere is the "realm of dreams and nightmares, and from whose realm issues forth evil omens." Also, the book On Oblivion says that her sphere is torture and that she is "among the most consistently “demonic” of the Daedra, in the sense that [her] sphere seems to be destructive in nature."

[Grayfox]

Darkest Darkness, I think it's called, has some stuff relating to Daedra.

[The Ninja]

Okay, well if it's for people that don't play Oblivion anyway(which will net you an extra 3.5 fishsticks), then you are on the right track. Of course, I would add only settlement quests or city quests(small ones;not like the Jemane series or Umbaccano(?) series). Using guild quests or long series quests is a no-no as it will seriously detract from the original story, where as using small quests wll give better subplots that will most likely take a chapter to right for each.

Right, I used Zero Visibility already. But the story is about MY playthrough of Oblivion. And I was thinking that I could write another on my other "Ninja" character I've already started.

I would also consider using at least 1 master training quest and don't forget to use a daedric quest(use a "good" daedric quest though since you are supposed to be good, I guess. That would narrow it down to Azura, Nocturnal, Clavicus Vile[maybe] and Vaermina.]

Master training quest? Such as? And I'd have to get my xbox back from repairs to explore those Deadric quests more thoroughly before I chose one to use.

That being said, when you write an actual original story, let me know(remember you can start it in any way you want. Maybe you could come to Cyrodiil on a ship[based on a mod] or you could start off as a member of a rogue mercenary group who gets screwed over, etc...just as a few suggestions) I will be more than happy to help you with the story.

I appreciate your willingness to help, but I would like to stick to the game (meaning NO mods) so my readers would get the game and be like, "What? I thought you came in on a ship! This isn't how the story goes! I'm in freaking PRISON!"