Spellbooks

Old and generally outdated discussions, with the rare hidden gem. Enter at your own risk.

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Lord_Gallant
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Post by Lord_Gallant »

While I am flattered to be in your story, I'm not sure that is in The Rules, lol!

From what I can see, it will need some heavy editing. Things like "Daedra Dai"->"Daedric Dai" and "so it must be that he arrives courtly and on time" to "so he must be punctual", spelling and the like.

Format wise, is seems good so far. Where will the Calming of Humaniods take place?
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Post by Arcadea »

Later in it.
I said I would return and I may have been right. The past must stay in the past as agreed. If the core needs me or has a job for me just ask for now I watch and write.

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Post by Earl »

The quote was from Zombie.
Makes it clearer what's going on.



Arcadea:

1. "a fellow imperial" - Silver Wing has to be one of the most race-defying names I've heard, if it's imperial.

2. It's lame to put yourself or people you know into TR. Especially in such a high position as to have audiences with the king (and being "in the imperial palace in the Province Cyrdiil", I'm going to assume you're actually talking about the Emperor). It's not so bad, because the names used aren't blatant, but it sets a bad precedent.
[Citing the TR FAQ: 7) Don't build claims with your own favorite character in mind - this tends to make your claim less fun to play for everyone else]

3. Have a title in mind? An author? I presume you're not going to call the book "Calm Humanoid".

4. Back to the high positions point from 2.
"Supreme Head Librarian, Blade Information broker, court Advisory to the king"
I would consider giving such prominent positions to personal characters a violation of another TR FAQ don't: 6) Don't build a great wonder of the world in your claim.
To me, making the largest hanging garden in Tamriel in some Khuul-ish town is just as bad as sticking a lavish interior in such a town, which is just as bad as fabricating some high mucky-muck for the purpose of heaping a lot of prestigious titles on him.
"Hi, I'm the Supreme Head Librarian, Blade Information broker, court Advisory to the king, and these are my friends: Best theif ever, and super bad-ass warrior with Daedric Dai-Katana.
I'm trying very very hard not to be this harsh, but when is Super Saiyan Vegeta going to show up and punch the world in half?

5. The Emperor talks to librarians personally, in the pressing matter of an opening in Blacklight, where the librarian might be able to gather local intel. But will not come within 65,000 miles of the Nereverine, and won't intervene on behalf of his contact [Caius Cosades] with the Nerevarine.

6. Checking spelling is going to be a serious pain in the ass. I'm not trying to make you feel bad by saying that, either. Spellcheckers can catch a lot of things, so that by itself is not too much of an issue. I'm talking about things like "Cyrdiil" and "Dia" that a checker isn't going to have any idea what to do with. And things like "had now idea" and "Your are to" a spell checker will skip right over.

7. "He had a Daedra Dia Kantana on his belt and wore simple cloths."
Why wear simple clothes? To be unassuming, to pass among the regular people undetected.
Why carry a Daedric Dai-Katana? To let everyone know you're a complete and total bad ass. That is, it's incredibly noticable. Defeats the purpose. It's like wearing simple clothes, and carrying a severed dragon's head behind you.




I feel bad for saying all that, but I would feel worse for keeping my mouth shut.
Last edited by Earl on Fri Oct 24, 2003 4:17 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by Arcadea »

He'll show up in the next part I promise. Now be serios I agree I will revise a littl I wanted to see what you thought and you've tol me and yes thier is a reasen to why he has a big bad blade. I will look over this in deph and add and take out things but intell I hear what rodan has to say about my claim since the two directly link plus also thinkt to other stories that were going to be added it will take time and at present I don't have nay I will look at it but it will and may take months it of course is better for me to find out now. Thanks.
I said I would return and I may have been right. The past must stay in the past as agreed. If the core needs me or has a job for me just ask for now I watch and write.

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Post by Arcadea »

If he's the head of the library in the empires capital then it wouldn't be far fethed for him to give information to the blades since both are under the emperior.
I said I would return and I may have been right. The past must stay in the past as agreed. If the core needs me or has a job for me just ask for now I watch and write.

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Post by Earl »

I changed the first part of the Burden story a little. Rather than copy and past the whole thing again. . .

More detail to Kevius; gives him more of a reason for being:
After we made landfall, I was greeted by Kevius Altenian, a fresh-faced youth who would see to
my accommodations for the duration of the case; someone to worry about the trifles of room and
board so I could remain wholly committed to the investigation. At times, I employ such people
simply to hear them describe local rumours - things that authorities might omit.

Name given to the Blade with dialog:
Sanrit. He's described as a burly Redguard with a unibrow.

The total story so far stands at 10 KB, so it's already the second longest spellbook. At the rate it's going, it might even pass Weakness to Corprus.

The second part adds another character, Artisa Arethi the necromancer. She's polite, and maybe not cut out for the lonely life her occupation guarantees.

At any rate, giving names and details helps push suspicion in different directions. Makes things more fun. The direction I plan to take the story has changed from what I first imagined, and I think it will work much better this way. It'll definitely fit with the title better ;)





Anyway, part 2 of Weight of Guilt. . .


Once I had procured the name of the necromancer, who oddly enough was a Dunmer, I exited the
building to inquire of her whereabouts to Kevius. He assured me that Artisa Arethi would not be
too difficult to deal with; it seems that when she had first moved to Cyrodiil from Morrowind
years ago, she was very defensive, and very, very private. As she realized that necromancy wasn't
the absolute taboo in Cyrodiil that it was in Morrowind, she gradually softened her manner.

Kevius was kind enough to give me directions to her home, but seemed taken aback when I made
another request of him:

"At the moment, I cannot tell you why, but I need for you to do something, not question it, and
remain silent about it until further notice. Is this possible?" Cautiously, he agreed. "Very well,
then. I want you to go to each of the houses these murders took place in, but I do not want you to
enter any of them. You are to search around them, and try to find glass from a shattered window.
Check the sites in the order they occurred. If you're able to find glass at one, sit and make sure no
one disturbs it, and do not disturb it yourself. Are you willing to do this?" Kevius nodded with
his regular animation.

That done, we parted ways and I proceeded on to Artisa Arethi's home. Having seen
necromancer's caves in Morrowind, as well as Velothi towers they seemed to enjoy invading, I
must say a simple house was a nice change of pace. Artisa greeted me with surprising warmth,
considering the situation.

"Sera Fuchon," she explained "You must understand that - despite my charm - it is not everyone
who offers their body to me to look after when they've passed to Oblivion. While I do pay
surviving family members handsomely, there is a level of trust and familiarity involved. I mean,
would you want your corpse handled by just anyone? No, I think not. So I must say, while having
a number of bodies on hand is good for my practice, I'd rather have acquired them later in life.
They were good sorts, and certainly undeserving of murder."

"Then you would not mind showing me the bodies?" I asked hopefully.

Artisa nodded. "Certainly. There are others who have promised me bodies, who I would similarly
wish no ill upon. If doing so will help you identify or catch the killer, then I am at your service."
she paused a moment, then went on cautiously "Sera Fuchon, I considered these people friends.
While I'm not hunted as I would be back home, I do not have so many friends as to suffer much
more loss." she resumed her normal speaking voice "I keep the bodies in the basement, on stone
slabs. It's the coolest room in the house, and they keep better there. I do try not to offend the
neighbors too much with the rot."

As she began to lead me toward the stairs, she paused again, flustered. "Sera Fuchon, I almost
forgot to warn you. And I -- I. . . let me explain. . . As you can see, I am not especially strong, or
used to carrying around the weight of a dead body. There is someone in the basement for that,
and it's. . . well, I'm not entirely sure it's legal to have him in the city. It's -- he's not -- that is. . .
he's an Ogrim."

"An Ogrim?" I considered thoughtfully, "Did you summon him?"

"Well, yes. I doubt I could have snuck him into the city. I also doubt I could reproduce the spell;
I'd been trying to summon a Daedroth - takes up less space - but I must have gotten something
wrong. At any rate, he's cheaper to keep on that man or mer, he doesn't complain, and he follows
direction. He does tend to. . . eat bodies when I've finished with them, though."
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Post by Anonymous »

I hope I'm not intruding, but would you mind it I just claimed Bound Axe I have a really good idea for it, or has someone already taken that effect? :banana:
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Post by Lord_Gallant »

Bound Axe is unclaimed, so, it's yours! Check page two of this thread for the list of claimed and unclaimed effects, or check Earl's well-done list:

[url]http://www.freewebs.com/earlj/spellbooks.htm[/url]
Last edited by Lord_Gallant on Mon Oct 27, 2003 2:04 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by Anonymous »

Already done. Havn't seen all of earls yet but they r awesome :pop: thanks again Gallant.
Anonymous

Post by Anonymous »

Um... Ok guys I did this in like 30 minutes so if you don't like it just trash it. here goes...

Like the lull before the thunder
Rattling the battlfield above and under,
the dunmer lord upon his mighty steed,
of flesh and sinew he came indead.
Both sides of Nords and elves alike,
stood pale as a man upon a pike.

The dunmer lord with eyes of blood,
raised a fist as to stop a flood.
Upon this fist those were lead,
to draw his power from his blood of red.
And inhuman screams were heard throughout that night,
as daedra from Oblivion were pulled by his light

The screams increased as they entered his fist,
their spirits cried out in vain and hissed.
And with a brilliant flash of red and white,
he forged from these souls an Axe of Might.
And with this axe many foes he slew,
They fled from the elf, for many of them knew.

Any good? I could use some feedback. :D
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Post by Arcadea »

Fourth line I belive sdhould be in deed but I could be mistaken. I love it what do you think LG.
I said I would return and I may have been right. The past must stay in the past as agreed. If the core needs me or has a job for me just ask for now I watch and write.

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Post by Arcadea »

Her's two:

Absorb Health
Jorin’s Jornal
by Jorin


(a book stinted with blood and only a few lines appear un hindered and readable.)

I was behind the bushes today wathing the town people go by. I saw a beggar in the streets asking for coin. A man walked by him. The beggar asked the man if he could have coin and then it happened. The man raised his hands and cast a spell. Their was nothing I could do but watch. The spell he had caste was simple. He absorbed the beggars health. I wish I could of stopped this but I hadn’t the power to do so. He turned my way and I realized he was a vampire. I ran after that and didn’t stop in till I came to this inn. I have rested the night but I grow weary of this and fear that I’ll be hunted and killed. I hear him coming I wish not to die.

(The writing stops thier and blood is smeared over it.)

Fire Damage
Letter of a Vampire’s Mistake
Auther unown

Dear Lortia
I was foolish today. A human found out I was a vampire. I absorbed a beggar and he saw. Don’t worry I hunted him down and killed him for you my love. .Luck as, it had it was on my side for the fire of his torch didn’t hurt noir singe me. I’m very luck my dear for that I truly regret this mistake I hope you can forgive me. I will see you soon my love good day.

(No signature is given.)
Last edited by Arcadea on Mon Oct 27, 2003 11:31 am, edited 1 time in total.
I said I would return and I may have been right. The past must stay in the past as agreed. If the core needs me or has a job for me just ask for now I watch and write.

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Post by Earl »

King_Lysandus:

Besides the indead Arcadea mentioned. . .

Upon this fist those were lead,
to draw his power from his blood of red.


What "those"? Who's being led? Sounds awkward.
Drawing power from his blood? Or is he drawing power from spirits of daedra? Maybe "Drawing power from Magnus until his spell was fed" would be clearer; I'm guessing "blood" was an allusion to magic?

And inhuman screams were heard throughout that night,
as daedra from Oblivion were pulled by his light


Throughout the night? How long does it take to cast?
I not sure "light" fits well with bound spells. Maybe "pulled by his might", or "were bound tight", or "were pulled to aid his plight/fight" would go more smoothly.

The screams increased as they entered his fist,

You already have "screams" a few lines up. You could try "Their howls" for variety. And "entered" is sort of bland; maybe "swirled around his fist"

And with a brilliant flash of red and white,
he forged from these souls an Axe of Might.


I'm guessing this line is worded this way because you couldn't rhyme anything with just "axe" ;)
Would this work better?:
And in a brilliant flash was forged an axe without peer
Inhabited by daedra, it's bite was one to fear

Or
Spirits of deadra merged into axe crafted by inhuman hand
impossibly light, impossibly fine, blows impossibly easy to land







Arcadea:

I released he was a Dress councilor and also a vampire.

Realized. And I'm guessing Dres vampires would be a lot more stealthy. They'd probably have stables of slaves all to themselves; what's the point of killing random beggars, unless they want to be caught? It's a mistake for a low-level nobody vampire, not a badass Dres councilor. They didn't get into power by being sloppy.

I remember that day so well.

It sounds like the witness was killed the same day he saw the vampire. What need to remember what day today is?
Last edited by Earl on Mon Oct 27, 2003 11:23 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by Arcadea »

your right. Thanks I'll change it in the last post.
I said I would return and I may have been right. The past must stay in the past as agreed. If the core needs me or has a job for me just ask for now I watch and write.

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Post by Lord_Gallant »

King_Lysandus- Earl knows more about writing poem and prose than I, so his comments are probably better than what I could have given you.

Arcadea- I dunno, aside from Earl's comments I think they need to be a little, well, longer. I doesn't have to be like the Weakness to Corprus Disease story, but just a little bit longer.
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Post by Anonymous »

Thank you by the way Earl, I actually expected you to say "trash it". Anyway I really liked most of the changes you made (though I modified some of your changes not many though). The part with the "swirled around his fist" I figured "around" had to many sylables so I changed it to "round". Sorry I hope your not angry but I didn't really like your suggestion with "its bite was one to fear" so I changed it to "its blade was ever sheer" to try to stay in the same context of describing the axe itself.
The thing that was being led was the dunmers eyes ( A mistake on my part oops) I added that in, you can see, so that it makes more sense.

O and thx Arcadea, for pointing out my mistake on the forth line, typo, he he. :D

Like the lull before the thunder
Rattling the battlfield above and under,
the dunmer lord upon his mighty steed,
of flesh and sinew he came in deed.
Both sides of Nords and elves alike,
stood pale as a man upon a pike.

The dunmer lord with eyes of blood,
raised a fist as to stop a flood.
Upon this fist those eyes were led,
drawing power from Magnus untill his spell was fed.
And inhuman screams were heard throughout that fight,
as daedra from Oblivion were bound to him tight.

The howls increased and swirled round his fist,
their spirits cried out in vain and hissed.
And with a brilliant flash he forged an axe without peer,
Inhabited with daedra, its blade was ever sheer.
And with this axe many foes he slew,
They fled from the elf, for many of them knew.

Anyway, so is this any better or does it still need editing? And I'm not so good with Tamrielic lore...What is Magnus, I honestly don't know? :D
Last edited by Anonymous on Mon Oct 27, 2003 11:18 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by Arcadea »

Welcome.
I said I would return and I may have been right. The past must stay in the past as agreed. If the core needs me or has a job for me just ask for now I watch and write.

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Post by Lord_Gallant »

Bound Axe is now marked as complete. Would you like to do another one? The more Bound, Summon, Weakness and Resistance spells we can get out of the way, the better!
Last edited by Lord_Gallant on Mon Oct 27, 2003 11:43 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Trudging through the relentless Skyrim snowstorms, the lone Paladin looks on in sorrow as the land of Tamriel evolves without him; his mind occupied with other matters.
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Post by Anonymous »

Sure I guess, bound boots I think might be pretty tough, but I think I have something for an idea:idea: so mark me up for that one if you would plz. Thanks again.

btw, did you talk to Earl about that one being complete?
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Post by Lord_Gallant »

I'm marking it as complete so I don't forget later on :D. By no means does this mean that you can't add little touches to it if you want to, it just tells people that there is a poem for them to look at!

Lysander wants Bound Boots, got it.
Trudging through the relentless Skyrim snowstorms, the lone Paladin looks on in sorrow as the land of Tamriel evolves without him; his mind occupied with other matters.
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Post by Anonymous »

Much obliged, thankee EL Gallanto :D
Last edited by Anonymous on Tue Oct 28, 2003 12:20 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by Anonymous »

You don't mind if I just do poems mainly do you, I'm probably better at those.
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Post by Lord_Gallant »

Not at all, as long as they're long enough to catch your attention and interesting enough to keep reading ;). Oh, and just edit your post if you want to say something and no one has responded yet. Keeps down forum clutter and spam.
Last edited by Lord_Gallant on Tue Oct 28, 2003 12:27 am, edited 1 time in total.
Trudging through the relentless Skyrim snowstorms, the lone Paladin looks on in sorrow as the land of Tamriel evolves without him; his mind occupied with other matters.
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Post by Anonymous »

Ok then here is another one, this ones for Bound Boots, I thought it sounded sort of like a childrens nursery rhyme, almost like Dr. Seuss. Again 30 min, so complain all you want :D

Sword against axe, man against man.
When Sword struck true, and Axes blood ran,
the Sword just stood still, while axe fell flat.
And then Sword looked at Axe as if he were a knat.
Too well trained to look up in defeat,
The axe just lay there, and gazed at swords feet.

Odd they were clad in red metal,
they glowed with the rage of a boiling hot kettle.
Voices Axe heard from the boots sword wore,
voices that would haunt him, had he lived, forever more.
The boots were demonic that much he knew,
and as Sword closed in, the voices then grew.

"Alas," they cursed, "we are but Swords base."
And Sword smiled as fear became Axes face.
So Axe said "What witchcraft is this that your boots do sigh."
And Sword replied as he raised his blade high,
"Aren't they light, and so clean and so neat."
As Sword struck final, he said, "but you couldn't wear them, since they're bound to my feet."

What'd ya think? Feedback plz.
Last edited by Anonymous on Tue Oct 28, 2003 1:46 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by Arcadea »

Good. I didn't see anything wrong but wait for others Im not good at spelling or grammer.
I said I would return and I may have been right. The past must stay in the past as agreed. If the core needs me or has a job for me just ask for now I watch and write.

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Post by Anonymous »

Thanks Arcadea, I will don't worry.
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Post by Earl »

Magnus is Tamriel's god of magic.
Actually, it might be more accurate to say he literally is magic.


the Sword just stood still, while axe fell flat

How about "the Sword stood in wait"? "Just" sounds like a filler syllable, and breaks up action. Maybe getting rid of "the" would help too; "Sword stood awaiting" (since there aren't too many "the"s before axe or sword).

Gnat.



The axe just lay there, and gazed at swords feet."

Axe lay there, gazing with shame at Sword's feet
[cutting more "the"s and "just"s]



Odd they were clad in red metal,
they glowed with the rage of a boiling hot kettle.


Daedric - bound - armors don't have *that* much red in them, and if the kettle's red, that water's getting the hell boiled out of it. High Ordinator armor is red, but that's neither here nor there. What if. . .
"Unnatural boots of blood and night
they wore an angry glow of burning spite"




Voices Axe heard from the boots sword wore,
voices that would haunt him, had he lived, forever more.


I don't know if bound items talk in any coherant way. They seem to be more sinister and dark implied badness, than overt. I'd use "Chatter" instead of voices in the first line, and the second:
haunting whispers to live with him, had he lived to endure



and as Sword closed in, the voices then grew.

Keeping with my voice comment. . . (the boots sighing a little later, I like)
as Sword closed in, to fever pitch they grew


"Alas," they cursed, "we are but Swords base."

Finally talking, it should seem distant, airy, like being more than equipment is hard to do, or takes special exertion. . .
" 'las," they breathed
Last edited by Earl on Tue Oct 28, 2003 5:57 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by Earl »

Okay, I know the rules for sonnets (used to write them in high school out of boredom), but iambic pentameter is a pain in the ass. And I did something cheesy. The rhyme scheme goes ALMSIVI for each stanza.
There are 14 lines as expected, but insread of three four line stanzas of "problem problem problem", then two lines of "solution", it's equal parts problem and solution.

I'm so lame.




(Command Humanoid)
Three Sonnets
By Santillia Phineran

1. Direction

Chain 'round my poor eyes, sight taken from me
Tongue bound as with rope, silent as the grave
My fingers broken, no gestures import
I hear no words, I am deaf as a stone
I long for something, for feeling again
But I lack, I want for a leash to lead
To restore eternal springtime within

Someone lift my bonds, someone help me see
Someone untie my words, I be your knave
Mend my bones, your service shall I report
Your lips to my ears, your voice, your will done
Tell me what to do, tell me how to sin
Give me cause, give me pride, attend your need
I am nothing, you afford chance to win


2. Fall

Temperament conflicting inflicted you
Strong willed confusion, struggle all the more
Said what fills thine mind, refuted command
Refuse to bow, bring thineself low. Such pride!
Art thou a master, to possess such sway?
Doth we but serve, elevated thou are?
Manner aside, no kingship thou display!

Rabble, commoner, chattel be what true
Resist as thou want, thou art but a chore
Speak out of turn, out of place, make demand
Questioning betters, thou art one to chide!
Alone mine voice tellest what course to stay!
Thou art a servant, not a risen star!
Mine words come to you, you are to obey!


3. Need

Vacant absence permitted cannot be
A lacking vitality cannot go
An unfilled void devours unwary
Observant for missing piece required
Our watchful eyes must drink until content
A vision what awaits, again at last
Object searching for finally present

See now what element we were of free
Offer it something that cannot take no
Have it take it's place, failure be narry
Give it no choice, it's will be retired
Duration of job, harbor no resent
Regret to force your hand, this will be fast
Sorry for trouble, your cut will be sent
I have kleptomania, but when it gets really bad, I take something for it.
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Post by Earl »

And part 3 of Weight of Guilt. . .
Up to 15 KB now. Just about to round the twist.



The basement was as Artisa described: stone and cold, the bodies resting peacefully on elevated
slabs. And, of course, a titanic Ogrim filling one corner of the room. As I glanced at it, it stared
back, perhaps not understanding why his mistress permitted me to be there. I looked away from it
for a moment, turning my attention back to the corpse Artisa had led me to, when something
nagged at me.

Giving the Ogrim a more serious - if distant - inspection, I noticed that it's massive hands has
blood on them. As if finally shrugging off my presence, the Ogrim turned it's back to me, and
began doing something I could not see. I looked a question at Artisa, but she didn't seem to know
what it was about. When I explained my concern to her, she smiled.

"Oh sera, he's just eating. I used to get rats in here a few years ago, and he cleared that problem
right up. Got a taste for them, I'm afraid. He likes them fresh - live, that is - but. . . but he prefers
them tender too. So he. . ." Artisa balled her hand into a fist. "I can see your reason, though." As
if to underscore her point, the cracking of bone could be heard from it's direction.

That done, I began to look over the two bodies. Artisa had washed them, so it was much easier to
see where and how they had sustained injury. Both were fairly well mangled, with long straight
parallel cuts covering much of their bodies, and a number of deep gashes in their torsos. There
were no large, obvious bruises that I could see, which was inconsistent with the scenes; if the
victims had been as battered as their rooms and other injuries indicated, they weren't showing it
as they should have.

"Mistress Arethi, is there anything you can add? Did the spirits of these departed tell you
anything?"

She shook her head slowly, "I'm afraid they were already on their way to Oblivion when I
received them. Nevus - on your right - wanted to know 'where the hairy thing went'. But he didn't
seem too upset about it, just curious. Oblivion took him soon after." Artisa paused again,
considering something. "I've heard a rumor. . . some people are saying a werewolf is to blame.
With my big Ogrim here, I'm not too worried - more just nervous - but sera, can it really be true?"

I scratched my chin, pondering "Right now, I'd be loath to say. I would like to know more before
I begin throwing accusations around. In that cause. . . Not to assume too much mistress, but
given your closeness to these victims, what could you tell me about their lives?"

If Artisa was put off by my resumed questioning, she seemed at least understanding. "Nevus,
whom you've already 'met', was an alchemist. He carried all manner of rare plants, and other such
exotic items. He. . . he used to laugh that people complained about the smell of some of his
concoctions while no one said a word about my corpses. The second victim, the one the Blades
got all in a huff about, was a good friend of his. The other of my guests was Gratinius Dolan, an
enchanter. He used to tell me about extraordinary items he made free of charge for Blades - very
concerned about the safety of the Empire, that one. Once, he offered to enchant the stone in the
basement to keep my guests even colder, but I didn't want to impose. They were good, honest
men."

I nodded, "Thank you very much, mistress. I hope I have not taken up too much of your time."

"Not at all" she assured me.

With that, I bid her farewell, and began a circuit of the crime scenes trying to track down Kevius.
I found him at the fifth scene, playing with a bit of straw in an alley. Every few moments, he
would look down one side of the alley, then the other, obviously bored. When he spotted me, his
relief was visible.

"The others had been cleaned up already" he greeted me, "And sweepers came while I waited
here. I shooed them off, but I'm afraid them may have gone to the last house already. But one is
better than none, I hope."

"I hope, too."

I bent to inspect the small scattering of glass on the floor of the alley. Glass on stone, clear
enough, but something was lacking. Something vital. I asked Kevius if he had noticed anything
odd about it, but he just shook his head in confusion.

"Did you see any of the murder scenes?" I asked patiently. When he nodded, I continued "The
carnage, the blood everywhere. The walls, the floors, even the ceiling. Remember the ceiling?
There are prints of the entire body, as if someone threw them up there, bleeding. Now I ask you:
How does one soak so thoroughly in blood, leave bloody smears on the window sill, and leave no
trace of it on the glass at our feet?" The boy stammered in surprise for a moment before I gave
him the conclusion. "Someone escaped through the window of each scene, but that person did so
while the victim was still alive. Whoever broke those windows is not the killer."

As I stepped him through it, his face became progressively brighter, and before I could say that
the person was a possible witness as to the real killer's identity, young Kevius shouted "May the
gods be praised!"
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Post by Lord_Gallant »

I swear this must be the most entertaining of the threads in this forum.

Command Humanoid marked completed.

I'll mark Bound axe as complete once Lysandus edits.

One day I'll have to see about taking a crack at this. I wrote a poem once in high school, but it was on the grim and gory side. With all the exterior work I'm doing (+college, new internship, etc.) I haven't had much time lately, but I'll get around to it eventually.
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Anonymous

Post by Anonymous »

Alrighty then there you go, one finished (I hope) poem for Bound Boots. Though it does sort of seem like your the one who wrote it, LOL, ;) only joking with ya.

Sword against axe, man against man.
When Sword struck true, and Axes blood ran,
Sword stood awaiting, while axe fell flat.
And then Sword looked at Axe as if he were a gnat.
Too well trained to look up in defeat,
Axe lay there, gazing with shame at swords feet

Unnatural boots of blood and night
They wore an angry glow of burning spite.
Chatter Axe heard from the boots sword wore,
haunting whispers to live with him, had he been let to endure.
The boots were demonic that much he knew,
and as Sword closed in, to fever pitch they grew.

"'las," they breathed, "we are but Swords base."
And Sword smiled as fear became Axes face.
So Axe said "What witchcraft is this that your boots do sigh."
And Sword replied as he raised his blade high,
"Aren't they light, and so clean and so neat."
As Sword struck final, he said, "but you couldn't wear them, since they're bound to my feet."

Is that any better. BTW you, Earl, are frickin' good at this man. Nice one with the Weight of Guilt.


LG I suppose I will take Weakness to Frost since it looks like you need some of those.
Last edited by Anonymous on Tue Oct 28, 2003 11:00 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Anonymous

Post by Anonymous »

This is my story for Weakness to frost enjoy.
Sighing, Thoran Frosthammer, a large boy for his age, undressed himself and slid into his warm, straw bed. Gazing out the window, he imagined himself as the warrior that he saw in the stars, battling creatures 10 times his height, and saving villages from impending doom. Thoran liked that word, impending, ever since he heard it he used it often. Sighed, he mumbled "I wish I could be like you." in musing tones.

A clatter awoke him from his daydreams. It had come from outside so he looked out the window again. What he saw would haunt him to his grave. Beasts, wild, misshapen, and horrible they were. They were marching toward his house!

Immediately, he ran to awake his father, who was a rather good huntsman and skilled with a spear. Grabbing his weapon of choice from its place on the rack, Rhoran Frosthammer, father of Thoran Frosthammer, bolted to the door and waited. Silence.

Suddenly the door shattered like glass and a beast so vicious as to chill even a Nords blood appeared at the door. "Balouk-Mir" was all Thoran's father could say. It smiled without humor but with maddened insanity at Rhoron, and in one swift motion ripped the stout man into two bloody pieces with its bare hands.

Thoran looked on in horror, shocked at the sight he had just witnessed, his mind unable to accept what had just happened. The Beast looked down at Thoran, tilted his head menacingly and muttered something about Thoran's death would be a blessing to him; whatever it said Thoran wasn't listening.

The beast moved on along with his horrible soldiers, into the house. Even as that happened the boy never moved. Not until he heard a strangled scream that was cut off by silence. The scream came from his mother! Immediately picking up his fathers spear, Thoran ran to his mothers room. But when he got there and entered the room, all he saw was blood smeared across every inch of the room, and the beasts were gone.

Thoran, recovering from his shock and reliving what happened let out a anguished cry, which was choked off by a strangled sob.

The last thing Thoran Frosthammer did before he collapsed was gasp out, "I will find you monster," he sniffed hoarsely, "and I will kill you..."


Thoran Frosthammer gripped his warhammer tighter and surveyed his surroundings. He stood at the heart of the Ice Caves and as the name implies he was standing in a cavern made completely out of ice. The caves had been cut into the mountains long ago by a dreadful daedra. Baluok-Mir. Thoran had been chasing this dadra for many years after the beast slaughtered his entire family in Snowhawk.

Finally, the vengeful Thoran Frosthammer, lord and chief of his village and father of two sons, stepped into the lair of Balouk-Mir son of Sheogorath. The crystalline altar was the first thing Thoran noticed, 10 feet width and breadth, it could "comfortably" fit a human atop it with room to spare. That was probably what it was for judging by the red blood now frozen and crystalized. Beside this altar on either end stood two large, iron braziers, one carved in the likeness of the daedra standing at the altar: Duke Baluok-Mir.

Thoran, having not seen him standing there just moments before, blinked away the fuzziness around his tired eyes, cursed himself for falling into one of Baluok-Mir's mind tricks, and gripped the handle of his warhammer even tighter still.

"Good evening Nord," the daedra breathed, his voice smooth and even, "come and have a cup of tea." he offered and gentured toward a table in the corner of the room bristling with life now that it was set with tea, cream, moon-sugar, and small cakes, all illuminated by a 3 candled holder in the middle.

Again Thoran cursed himself for a fool for being the victim of Baluok-Mir's tricks.

Ignoring the gesture of "hospitality" the now steaming Nord yelled. "Balouk-Mir, son of Sheogorath, you have invaded my land, destroyed my livestock, murdured my family, " Thoran took a second to regain his composure as the last word faultered into a sob. ", and you dare to disrespect me so."

The daedra may not have even heard him as he replied casually, "My dear Nord," he began, "do you really want to kill me. If this is true, I beg you Nord, come strike me down," he mocked.

Thoran rushed the daedra, his hammer whistled through the air... and stopped with violent force as it struck what hadn't been there moments before: a solid ice wall that sprang up protectively around the daedra. Baluok-Mir laughed, while Thoran massaged his stinging fingers resulting from the unexpectedly early impact, a vicious, deep, baritone voice, contradicting the previous voice he wore.

"Typical," he said simply, "What would the most ironic way for you to die?" he mused. Seeming to reach a conclusion, the daedra smiled.

Horrified, the Nordic lord's head darted around for an answer as he realized that, yes, something was definately wrong. He began to shiver, and a blueish glow emitted from his skin. The glow intensified and spread, as did the shivers.

"What's happening to me?" he yelled feeling the cold trying to make its way through his natural resistance and grasp his neck with frozen fingers.

As Thoran dropped to his knees, the coldness of the cavern finally touching the resiliant Nord, Baluok-Mir cackled, "Tell me Nord, do you fear the cold?"

Through supreme effort, Thoran picked himself off of the ground, and gathered up his remaining strength to retort, "I fear not what shouldn't touch me." he said hoarsely, the coldness of the cave freezing his lungs.

Thoran glanced around and noticed that the glow emitting from his skin seemed to have effected the table set with tea, and noticed that the tea was now frozen the candle had gone out and the cream crystalized, the cave's frozen touch grasping them as well beening no longer protected by the daedras magic. Adding all of this in his mind Thoran looked up at the daedra, now laughing madly, and suddenly realized what he must do.

"Tell me Daedra," Thoran Frosthammer whispered, able to do little else through his frozen throat, "do you fear the cold?" Grabbing his hammer from off the ground, Thoran Frosthammer, Lord of Snowhawk, let loose a horrible cry and rushed Baluok-Mir whirling his weapon.

As the glow touched the icy barrier surrounding the daedra, it shattered as if struck by a mighty blow, the daedra's protection from the cold was broken!

Realizing what he had done, Baluok-Mir's eyes shot wide and he screamed in terror as the glow, the very same spell he had used to kill his enemy now touched him and he felt the grip of ice as his vision went black.


[In some versions of this story it is said that Thoran broke the spell by slaying his enemy but most scholars believe that if this story is true, then they are both still below in the Caves of Ice now lost from a horrible collapse of the tunnel, frozen as statues.]

Ok there you have it, I updated it. Oh, and as for what kind of daedra he was, he was something special I suppose since he was a Duke I wouldn't think he would be one of the normal ones.
Last edited by Anonymous on Thu Oct 30, 2003 12:00 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by Lord_Gallant »

Very swank! I liked it! Some suggestions:

-Don't really like the word "gazed" at the beginning. That word is for crystal balls. "Surveyed his surroundings" might be better.

-Crystalline has two L's, I think.

- "Again Thoran cursed himself for a fool, again,.." Too many again's.

- "Daedra, you have..." I think that it would be more dramatic if he called him by name.

- "...disrespcet me so.", "...kill me so..." Too many "me so's". If they weren't so close together it wouldn't sound so odd, but as it is I think one of them could stand to be changed.

-As a final note, I think that Thoran's revenge needs more fleshing out. Maybe if you had a "prologue" of sorts that described the daedra-killing-family scenario in vivid detail, the reader would feel a stronger sympathy for Thoran.

Very nice idea and story, though! I'm sure Earl will want to add his two cents (or three, as it were) as well so await his comments. He's the storyteller here, I'm just putting it together ;).
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Post by Arcadea »

LG what happens when were done with Spell books.
I said I would return and I may have been right. The past must stay in the past as agreed. If the core needs me or has a job for me just ask for now I watch and write.

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Post by Earl »

volted to the door

like glass a a beast so vicious


to chill even a Nords blood
Chance to sound artier: Nord's wintery blood, Nord's winter-tested blood, something like that.

It smiled for a second
Another chance for more description: smiled with yellowed fangs, smiled without humor, It flashed a humorless smile full of teeth, a smile that was all teeth and no cheer.


Thoran's death would be a blessing to him, whatever it said Thoran wasn't listening.
[Semi-colon works better]


Immediately Thoran was on the run, he picked up the spear and ran to the part of the house was were his mother lhad slept.
picking up the spear and running to his mother's room.
picking up his father's spear, and running to his mother's room with hurried [or panicked] footsteps.
[I think the second plays better, since it reminds the reader what spear]


of the room, the beasts were gone.
and the beasts were gone.

let out a thunderous roar
He's a large boy, but he's still a boy. I'd think an anguished roar would be enough.

before he swooned
Swooning is for chicks. It might work for Bretons, but not manly man Nords.

standing in a cave made completely out of ice.
Used "cave" earlier in the sentence; try cavern for variety.

The caves were cut into the mountains
had been, maybe.


The crystalline altar was the first thing Thoran saw, 10 feet width and breadth it could easily fit a human atop it with room to spare.
"Saw" is bland. Captured his attention, maybe. Comma after breadth. Easily works, but comfortably would add irony.

standing at the altar Duke Baluok-Mir.
Throw a dash or colon in there.
standing at the altar - Duke Baluok-Mir.
standing at the altar: Duke Baluok-Mir.

having not seen him standing there before
Unclear; if he's been tracking the daedra a long time, he may have seen the altar previously, so before could be "ever before". Standing there a moment before clears it up.

the daedra breathed his voice smooth and even
Comma after breathed.

he finished and gentured toward a table
It's unclear what he finished (his quote, I know). Maybe "he offered"? And gestured.

his hammer whistled through the air... andstopped
Whistling. . . and stopped with violent force as it struck what hadn't been there a moment before: a solid wall of ice that had sprung up protectively around the daedra.

Baluok-Mir laughed while Thoran shook his unexpectedly stinging fingers. It was a vicious, deep, baritone, contradicting the previous voice he wore.
Accounting for the impact he made before he was ready to make it.

"Typical," he said simply, "what would the most ironic way for you to die," he mused.
Capitalize "what", since it would be separate from Typical. "Typical, what would the most ironic way for you to die" - is he asking what would be the typical most ironic way? And replace the comma after die with a question mark.

Horrified, the Nordic lord glanced around something was wrong. He began to shiver, and a blueish glow emitted from his skin. The glow grew and so did his shivering.
The Nordic lord cast about in horror. Something was most definitely wrong. He began to shiver, and his skin emitted a slight bluish glow. As the glow spread and intensified, so too did the shivers.

through his natural resistance and grasp his neck with frozen fingers.
"And grasping", or "to grasp".

Picking himself off from the ground
Add in something like "only with supreme effort".

Gabbing his hammer from the ground
Grabbing. Any maybe off of the ground.

as if struck by a mighty blow, his protection from the cold was broken!
Unclear, since they both have protection from cold. "And the deadra's" after the comma.

but most scholars believe, that if
Don't need that comma.



Aside from that. . . where are the soldiers the daedra had in the beginning? What sort of daedra is he?
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Post by Earl »

(Sound)
Chaotically scrawled note

Madness save me, madness take me!
Madness preserve me from madness greater still!
Chatter and chatter, night and day, day and night!
I have no rest, no quiet, not a piece of my own mind!
So much gold glitters before me, but I value the saint
and the one with mask is no saint!
Madness save me from my dreams!
Hide me, give me the peace of insanity!
I am drawn to the mountain,
but do not let me go!
I am drawn and quartered in faith
but I am loyal to the end!
Forgive me for hearing his terrible voice
even though I have scratched off my ears!
Forgive me for seeing his terrible dreams
even though I have scratched out my eyes!
Forgive me for allowing him to infect my flesh
even though I still try to burn it away!
He wants me, to corrupt and taint
but I'm already touched by you, lord!
Sheogorath, I'm coming home to you!
Sheogorath, I'm

[There may have been more to the note, but the rest has been covered by what is presumably the
author's blood, or rendered illegible by it's smearing]



When the Spellbooks are all done, it's supposed to merge with Books of Tamriel.
Of course, "done" is open to interpretation.
That is, some of these books are limited to specific regions. Take Zombie's Prayer to Azura book for example - in places where people don't worship Azura, you shouldn't find the book. So for a Light spell outside of Morrowind, you'd have to write another book with that effect.

I'm guessing "done" means "all effects covered once", though. At least for the moment.





One day I'll have to see about taking a crack at this. I wrote a poem once in high school, but it was on the grim and gory side. With all the exterior work I'm doing (+college, new internship, etc.) I haven't had much time lately, but I'll get around to it eventually.
If you keep making stuff as bad ass as Kemel-Ze, don't worry about books. I've only seen pictures of it, but that someone made it is the coolest thing ever.

I wrote almost exclusively grim and gory in high school. I'm lucky the administrators never looked at me too hard, because I was in high school during the wonderful Columbine era.
Last edited by Earl on Wed Oct 29, 2003 8:27 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by Earl »

And part 4 of Weight of Guilt
Up to 20.3 KB. I'm thinking it just might edge out Weakness to Corprus.
This is the slight twist, preparing for the big finish. . .




Suddenly, Kevius' enthusiasm and interest in the case became clear, as he stammered to explain.
"My father lives in Solstheim, working for the East Empire Company. Last month, I visited him
there with news that my sister had finally decided to settle down with a good, charming fellow.
While I was there enjoying the crisp air outside of Fort Frostmoth, there was some trouble with
werewolves. One of them pounced on me, all fangs and drool, so I screamed for help.
Well-armed guards were quick to respond, and chased off the beasts. I was checked for signs of
injury, and finding none, I was released. Unfortunately for me, it seems it never occurred to the
guard that the disease they carry is transmitted by saliva, not truly by bite; there was not a mark
upon my body, they said, so I must be fine. I failed to tell them that I had swallowed and gagged
upon the fetid spittle that thing rained on me. At that point though, my business in Fort
Frostmoth had concluded, and not being one for pointless boring travel, I recalled back to my
house in Cyrodiil."

Stopping for breath for a moment, he continued shortly. "All was normal for a time, but after a
few days, as night began to fall, I knew something was not quite right. I did not know at the time
what was bothering me, though I suspected the worst. With that fear in mind, I went to see
Crantilius Vasius. He had a brother in the Legion, so I thought he might know what to do to take
care of the infection. I remember opening up his door, sweat pouring down my face, him greeting
me, asking what was wrong, and then a blur. In the morning, I discovered Crantilius had been
murdered. I was numbed by crushing guilt, because surely I was the one to do it. Throughout the
day, I was too afraid to do anything. Then as darkness came, I panicked. I ran to see Gralilan
Tulius; he had connections to the Blades - I didn't know what connections - and surely the Blades
know everything about everything, or could find it out. Gralilan would be able to find me a cure,
before I did too much damage."

"But morning came, and no cure had I. Gralilan lay dead in his house, and I was still alive, and
still thought myself guilty. I left town, and sought out a cave that had been home to bandits
before the Legion cleared them out. Bringing a few meager possessions, I magically locked the
door and waited. When morning came again, I unlocked the door, hurried to town, and was
overjoyed that no one had been killed in the night. That cave became my home. But after a week,
there was another murder - Falinia Rescius, an apothecary - again someone I might have gone to
for help. The door to my cave was intact, still locked, but the dirt and rock around it's bottom had
been cleared away by desperate clawed hands. It was enough to slide under without disturbing
the door."

"Besides the overwhelming guilt, I began to feel a deep, gnawing hunger. As if despite my
killing, I would never be satisfied. Horrified, I sat in my cave and tried to think of who else might
be able to help me. Sadly, to date those people have all been victims. Crantilius and Gralilan,
Ysronmir the sorcerer I thought might be able to at least paralyze me overnight, Vonvild the
summoner I thought could contact something knowledgeable from Oblivion to cure me, Nevus
the alchemist might have a potion to cure me, Gratinius the enchanter might craft something to
suppress the disease. I. . . I thought when you arrived, you might solve the crimes, and find me. E
-- Even though I knew I was guilty, I thought you might know some treatment for me. I was
afraid you'd be my next victim."

I blinked in astonishment. I knew a werewolf had been involved, and that the poor afflicted
person was not the killer - or rather, not this particular killer - I had no idea it was someone right
under my nose. I started slowly "So you remember breaking the windows, or the sound of it,
maybe, in your hazy nighttime antics?"

"I. . . well, sort of. I think it more convincing that I would wake up with shards still on me. But. .
. but my arm was always so bloody. . ."

"Do you mind if I had a look at it?" I asked, still feeling somewhat surreal. When he rolled up his
sleeve, I immediately knew what had happened, and explained it to him. "You sought out those
who could help you, as you feverishly stumbled about town on the verge of transformation.
Seeing you in such terrible shape, your saviours would let you in and begin looking you over.
Either when the transformation struck, or perhaps before, you would escape through a window,
as to avoid harming them. I'm not sure where you went after that, but surely somewhere out of
town. Though bloodlust consumed you, even as a werewolf you could not harm another. Just
look at your arm! You must have sat somewhere in the darkness, gnawing on it to keep the worst
of your hunger at bay."

Suddenly, my mood darkened again. I knew who the killer was, and it troubled me. Yet besides
Kevius' visiting the victims, it was the only other connection I could find between them, though it
did not connect all of them. The conclusion was that the killer only intended to strike down a few
of Kevius' saviours, but killed them all so as to more thoroughly frame Kevius.
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Post by Lord_Gallant »

Ah, now that IS cool. So it's Kevius, eh? This is why you asked those werewolf questions.

Sound marked as complete, unless anyone has suggestions for changing it?

I'll mark Weakness to Frost as complete. Lysandus, just make whatever revisions you'd like. The suggestions we make are just that, suggestions, and you are not obligated in any way to make them. So don't feel like we are writing the story for you, since you can change whatever YOU want to change.

Spellbooks will eventually merge with Books of Tamriel, but I will have to write the scripts for them before I hand them over. I'm thinking it will be an esp, with all the scripts applied to books but without references in the game world, which I think would be the easiest way to do this.
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Post by Arcadea »

as the name Use this TR_SP_(Name of book).

I belive that will fit with what Geowulf is using so they will merge correctlt with names.
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Post by Anonymous »

Alright I updated it Earl, take a look at it and reply please.
:wave:
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