Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-3293219-20140308235607/@comment-5735114-20140314194224

(While I come up with an answer to that, I'm going to give you all a pie.

But this is no ordinary pie. This is, the longest single pie in LoN hisory!

Happy Pi Day!)

Talsakr’s breathing rate had slowly decreased; partially because he was out of danger, and partially because the air was so cold it was hurting his throat. His heart was still pounding, however, as he had had enough adrenaline in the past half hour or so for a week.

Talsakr quickly glanced backwards, though all he saw was a wall of snow. This caused him great distress. He didn’t think any mages were following him after his daring escape from Winterhold, though he had no way to make sure.

Talsakr didn’t seem to register that the voices in his head were gone now. He would have felt great happiness, if he could. Everything had happened so quickly, between his to-be execution and his escape. All he remembered was being threatened by a mage, having some spell cast on him, and running away as fast as possible.

After another fifteen minutes of walking, Talsakr’s mind seemed to refocus, and he suddenly felt very happy and tired at the same time. He checked in his head a few times just to make sure; thinking of words that he was sure would have had the voices laughing for hours. To his glee, there were no responses. However, he still had another problem to deal with. The blizzard prevented him from seeing where he was going, as well as nearly freezing him to death, so all he could do was follow the few inches of road he could see at any given moment. Which would have been fine, had Talsakr not have lied in bed for the best part of an unknown amount of time, and then suddenly started a warmup with a twenty-minute dash.

Eventually, Talsakr’s legs gave up on him, and he fell to the ground against the road, his numbness allowing him to not even care about the icy conditions. He laid there for some time, using his rest to go over recent events, until they ended with a single, bothersome question:

Now what?

--

Eldoril was doing his best to stay calm. The shock of hearing the intruders of had still not yet worn off, and the comments they were making irritated him to no end. They normally wouldn’t even bother the cool and collected Conjurer, but these voices had a special way with words, it seemed. Perhaps it was due to their magical origin?

Before Eldoril knew it, he was walking through a torch-lit stone corridor. He recognized it well; it was a recently built tunnel that connected the new Midden section of the College with the Hall of the Elements, where the Arch-Mage was currently giving his speech to the terrified students of the College.

As he approached the end of the tunnel, Eldoril could hear the Arch-Mage setting new rules about experiments with live subjects.

“Also, one must have knowledge of at least Adept Illusion and Restoration spells,” The Arch-Mage’s statement usually would have been met with loud disagreement, particularly with the younger students. He paused for a moment, as if expecting retaliation, but continued on when it didn’t come. “This will be confirmed by our High Mages, Galandir for Illusion and Colette for Restoration.”

Eldoril was already climbing the ladder leading to the trap door in the back of the Hall. He felt as though he was in some sort of trance, as though his body was not his, but the loud creak of trap door snapped him out of it. He hastily climbed out, not caring to draw attention to himself, and stood in the back of the crowd as the Arch-Mage finished up his speech. “Remember, students, experiments with live subjects are dangerous, as we have seen today. Try to avoid them, but if you can’t, always remember to be careful, and have a few people helping you. Thank you for your time.”

This sent the mass of around 50 College to the door, some of them brushing past Eldoril as they talked in quiet murmurs. Eldoril walked towards the Arch-Mage, who was standing by the fountain, where the Eye of Magnus once floated.

“Ah, Eldoril. I trust that our subject has been… executed?” the Arch-Mage said calmly as he turned to look at the Conjurer.

“Erm… not… quite... When I tried to kill him, he… did something to me, and got away.”

“Did… something to you…? You don’t mean…?” The Arch-Mage quickly glanced down.

<p class="MsoNormal">“No! Some kind of energy… flew into me… I think it was that aura.”

<p class="MsoNormal">So, now we’re an aura? One of the voices chose now as the time to butt in. I think you need to learn some respect…

<p class="MsoNormal">Eldoril found that inexplicable anger rising slowly within him again. He tried to ignore it, and the tiny flame that appeared in his hand for a moment.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Most interesting… Have you been able to determine the nature of the energy, now that you get to experience it firsthand?” The Arch-Mage inquired, sounding much like an old Alteration professor Eldoril once knew.

<p class="MsoNormal">“I learned from the Nord that it is a curse, and now I have strange voices in my head…”

<p class="MsoNormal">'And, we’re strange, too!? Don’t make me come out there, I’ll show you who’s strange!'

<p class="MsoNormal">Hehe… Look at the pretty butterflies… Come over here, I just wanna eat your wings…

<p class="MsoNormal">Eldoril sighed audibly, and another spark of flame appeared in his hand for a second.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Anything else?”

<p class="MsoNormal">“No, nothing else.” Eldoril quickly replied, purposefully leaving out the odd anger. He just thought it would go away soon.

<p class="MsoNormal">“I see. You should notify Galandir immediately. As our High Illusionist, he should know what to make of this, at least more than everyone else.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Thank you, Arch-Mage. Also, about the Nord… shouldn’t we send someone after him?”

<p class="MsoNormal">“I’m afraid we can’t. He already got away some time ago, and the blizzard outside would only serve to slow us down. He must be accustomed to it…”

<p class="MsoNormal">Eldoril didn’t know that there was a blizzard outside; he’d been cooped up within the College lately due to all the business with Talsakr.

<p class="MsoNormal">'Accustomed to the cold? Please, he’s just as accustomed to that as I am to my mother’s arse…'

<p class="MsoNormal">'You were accustomed to that too? '

<p class="MsoNormal">Would you shut UP!?

<p class="MsoNormal">The anger had gotten the better of Eldoril, and before he knew what he was doing, a Flame Cloak surrounded him and he had a Firebolt in his hand, ready to release.

<p class="MsoNormal">'Well, that’s hardly nice! Say you’re sorry, you block of cheese…!'

<p class="MsoNormal">Losing all restraint, the magical fury captured Eldoril and forced him to release his Firebolt, hitting the Arch-Mage, who had stumbled from the unexpected Flame Cloak, right in the throat.

<p class="MsoNormal">The voices subdued themselves for the moment, as Eldoril suddenly became aware of what had happened, and tried to help the Arch-Mage up.

<p class="MsoNormal">However, the Firebolt had hit in a particularly unfortunate place, and the Arch-Mage was already nearly dead. His windpipe had collapsed from the sudden force of the ball of fire, and he already couldn’t breathe. He didn’t even utter any last words as he fell to the ground.

<p class="MsoNormal">Eldoril stood, looking down upon the dead body of his friend and colleague. At first, the shock from all of the day’s events stopped Eldoril from reacting to the sight in front of him. He simply took a step back, and another, and another until he hit the wall near the open gate. That snapped him back to reality.

<p class="MsoNormal">Almost immediately, Eldoril ran. The guilt, fear, and grief within his mind seemed to seep down to his legs, propelling him out of the hall, through the courtyard, and across the bridge.

<p class="MsoNormal">To Eldoril’s great fortune, his flame cloak disappeared before he entered the main Winterhold. Spells were acceptable within the College, but even the mages in the city didn’t appreciate fire Destruction spells being cast nearby their wooden homes.

<p class="MsoNormal">The blizzard obscured most vision, so the guards hardly even saw Eldoril rush past them and outside the city, soon fading out of view entirely.

<p class="MsoNormal">Oh, gods, what have I done!?, seemed to be playing on a loop within Eldoril’s head. That, and ''It’s really, really cold! ''Once certain that he was out of sight, another Flame Cloak solved his second problem for him, but now Eldoril was forced to focus on his first one.

<p class="MsoNormal">I killed the Arch-Mage… I’m going to die… 

<p class="MsoNormal">'Cheer up, pal. It can only get better from here!'

<p class="MsoNormal">''You…! You made me kill him! ''

<p class="MsoNormal">Before he knew it, Eldoril’s hands were again filled with flames, causing steam to rise where the gout of fire made contact with the wall of snow.

<p class="MsoNormal">'Wasn’t that fun? Ooh, we should do that again! Except, by stuffing cheese down his--'

<p class="MsoNormal">''Shut up! You made me kill him… Come out and face me like a man!''

<p class="MsoNormal">But I’m just a pretty little Queen…

<p class="MsoNormal">By now, Eldoril had identified two distinct voices. The one he was currently hearing was a somewhat high-pitched male voice, and its comments hardly ever made any sense. The other was a deeper voice, gruff and cold. It clearly appeared to be the smarter of the two, and also the aspect of the magical anger.

<p class="MsoNormal">'We’re freezing in here! 'The second voice suddenly butted in. You should be more careful when planning your trips next time.

<p class="MsoNormal">The gruff voice’s sarcasm and magic nearly caused Eldoril to spew fire at the snow a second time. The blizzard still made it nearly impossible to see, and Eldoril knew he needed as much Magicka as he could muster to fend off any College mages sent for him. Trying to melt the blizzard wouldn’t help with that, so he kept walking, only aware of the voices in his head and the restraint he had to use when they spoke…

<p class="MsoNormal">--

<p class="MsoNormal">Talsakr had begun walking again. He lay on the ground for what could have been ages, or just a minute; the blizzard made it impossible to tell. He trudged forwards with heavy steps, focusing only on the road ahead of him and his mission to get out of the cold.

<p class="MsoNormal">Talsakr’s whole body was numb, and he felt ready to pass out at any moment. The joy of losing the voices had quickly been depleted; Talsakr now more than ever could use the distraction and someone to talk to. All he had at the moment was a swirling snowstorm and the tiny patch of visible road and the occasional barren tree or cliff seen through the snow.

<p class="MsoNormal">Best of all, Talsakr wasn’t even sure if he was in a dream or in reality. He could have sworn that from time to time, he saw a man in odd robes walking nearby for a second, and he only recognized the figure from his dreams, with one exception; the robes were now only colored red and black.

<p class="MsoNormal">''Perhaps I’m just going crazy again? ''Talsakr chuckled weakly to himself. Maybe it’d be nice…

<p class="MsoNormal">Talsakr’s sudden loss of attention had him swerve off the road and bang into a tree. Already exhausted from his travels, he fell into the snow again, feeling as though this would be the end of him. He slowly closed his eyes, and slipped out of consciousness.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">“Hey, someone there!?”, Talsakr called out. He wasn’t sure where he was, but he was warm and comfortable. He was inside a nice log cabin, with a bright fire within the nearby stone fireplace. Looking outside the open window, Talsakr could see a figure in the distance, through the swirling snowstorm just outside.

<p class="MsoNormal">Without thinking, he opened the window and called out again. The figure slowly began walking towards the cabin, its silhouette gradually growing larger and larger. However, the snow whacking Talsakr in the face prompted him to hurriedly close the window, and watch the figure through glass.

<p class="MsoNormal">As the person got closer, Talsakr could see that they were wearing tattered robes that fluttered heavily in the wind. Eventually, the figure got to the window, but somehow, its face was still silhouetted. Talsakr pointed in the direction of the door through the glass, and the figure went out of sight for a moment.

<p class="MsoNormal">Talsakr could hear the door opening from his left, the wailing wind for a moment, before the door was hurriedly slammed shut again. He went to greet his guest, but when he walked towards the entrance, he saw that the figure was brandishing a sword.

<p class="MsoNormal">“What are you doing!?”, Talsakr cried, but the figure in tattered robes ignored him. The hood of the robes obscured its face. It slowly walked forwards, and Talsakr desperately looked around to try and find something to defend himself with. However, he found nothing, and the figure was ever approaching, raising the sword slowly.

<p class="MsoNormal">“P-put it down!”, Talsakr pleaded, in a last hope.

<p class="MsoNormal">When the figure got close enough, it raised its sword above its head, and yelled, “You’re not dying yet!”, before slamming the hilt into Talsakr’s head.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">Talsakr awoke with a jolt, immediately grasping his forehead where he’d hit the tree. “Aghhh…” was the only sound he could make, as he lay in the snow.

<p class="MsoNormal">H… how long was I out…?

<p class="MsoNormal">Talsakr tried to get up, but found himself unable.

<p class="MsoNormal">C’mon… on three… One… Two… Three!

<p class="MsoNormal">He pushed against the ground with all his strength, ignoring the strain he was putting on his already weary muscles, and he eventually stood. Disregarding the searing pain in his legs, contrasting with the numbness elsewhere, Talsakr hobbled over to the road and continued walking slowly, being driven by pure willpower now.

<p class="MsoNormal">--

<p class="MsoNormal">Eldoril was walking for the best part of what he thought was an hour, mulling over his thoughts within his mind. What had happened, and what would happen. To his relief, the cold seemed to have driven the infuriating voices away, and his constant Flame Cloaks had kept the cold sufficiently at bay.

<p class="MsoNormal">Putting one foot after the other, Eldoril was still somewhat shocked and trying to come to grips. He decided that he would rise out of ignorance.

<p class="MsoNormal">''Okay, Eldoril… you’ve killed the Arch-Mage. Got that? You killed him…''

<p class="MsoNormal">He was finding it hard to proceed.

<p class="MsoNormal">''…with a Flame Cloak and a Firebolt. The voices… no. Your anger drove you to do it… Agh, that makes no sense! What do you have to be angry about!?''

<p class="MsoNormal">Eldoril saw that his mental debate was getting him nowhere. It was bad to subvert blame, he knew, but why had he killed the Arch-Mage. He needed to get things sorted out, and the middle of a blizzard was no time to do that. He recast Flame Cloak as he felt it getting weaker.

<p class="MsoNormal">Gods, how long will this infernal snow last?

<p class="MsoNormal">This blizzard was the strongest Eldoril had seen in years. It served him great inconvenience as he continued onwards. He tried to get a sense of where he was, but he had no way of telling through the thick snow. However, the road soon turned right, and he immediately knew he was near Stillborn Cave. Some foolish adventurers had gone in there years ago, looking for adventure or some other idiocy. The cave was sealed off soon after.

<p class="MsoNormal">Eldoril turned right with the road and kept up his pace, the rough sense of location having given him some confidence. He remembered the route from when he had gone patrolling around Winterhold Hold, looking for Empire attack parties sent to snuff out magic.

<p class="MsoNormal">Things haven’t changed much…, Eldoril thought, grateful for the distraction. Deciding to keep up the distracting thoughts, in the hope that they would make the time go by faster, Eldoril thought back to the patrols he used to take part in…

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">It was a sunny day, which was rare in Winterhold, but it was still cold and the snow stayed on the ground as usual. Eldoril was getting ready to go on his patrol route along with a couple of his friends. Most mages aren’t allowed to patrol until they’ve been at the College for at least two years, but perhaps it was his quick grasp of Destruction, or perhaps his pride and arrogance, that convinced his Khajiit teacher to get Eldoril a spot in the patrol early. He was the Altmer equivalent of a mere 22 or 23 at the time.

<p class="MsoNormal">Eldoril quickly went over his spells near his bed, making sure he could remember them.

<p class="MsoNormal">Firebolt… Flame Cloak… Healing… Lesser Ward…

<p class="MsoNormal">Eldoril felt that he didn’t need to do this, but so many people had given him advice to do so, that he complied. After he’d gone through all of his spells within his head, Eldoril energetically left the Hall of Attainment and went to the bridge to join the rest of the patrol group.

<p class="MsoNormal">Most of them were at least a year older than Eldoril, and one of them was almost 10 years his senior, but he wasn’t intimidated. It was a somewhat large patrol, consisting of five people including Eldoril himself.

<p class="MsoNormal">As Eldoril approached, the other four mages standing nearby the first pool of water turned to look at him, indicating that he was the last one there. He scanned their faces quickly; he’d seen some of them before, around the College, but never talked to any of them.

<p class="MsoNormal">The first was a Dunmer girl, looking to be around age 25. Her hooded robes made it difficult to see her face, but Eldoril could make out long dark brown hair and dark red eyes, as though they were full of blood. She had a small nose, and her long, thin lips curled into a smile as she turned to wave at Eldoril.

<p class="MsoNormal">The second was the other High Elf, towering over the others. It was difficult to tell any Altmer’s age, but he appeared to be around 30. His chiseled, squarish face housed some thin stubble, but nothing compared to the Nords’ magnificent beards. He merely stood and stared at Eldoril with his piercing green eyes as he approached.

<p class="MsoNormal">The third mage was a Breton male, who was shorter than the others. He had pale skin, which contrasted somewhat with his mop of overgrown, messy light brown hair. Hoods seemed to be common attire for the Breton, and Eldoril had to wonder why he wasn’t wearing one now. The Breton raised his hand and waved it slightly as Eldoril approached, as if only to acknowledge his presence.

<p class="MsoNormal">The last was a large, brutish Orc, sporting robes that barely fit his bulky and muscular frame. Unlike the others, the Orc had a thick black beard, but not a single hair on the top of his head. He also had a long scar on his right cheek, which he seemed own with pride; the beard started just below it.

<p class="MsoNormal">He also appeared to be the leader of the group. After the rest of them finished their short actions of greeting to Eldoril, the Orc grunted, and then spoke in a deep, growling voice. “Finally… new guy’s here. I trust you know who we are, but in the case that you’re to stupid to know…” the Orc scowled. He seemed to dislike Eldoril with a passion, but perhaps he treated everyone like this. “That’s Irvanea”, he growled, pointing to the Dunmer girl. “Soliar”, motioning to the other Altmer, whom the Orc also seemed to dislike due to Soliar’s superior height. “Lazaeus”, said the Orc, now pointing at the pale-skinned Breton. “And me, Ghatur”, Ghatur concluded, pounding himself on the chest once with his right fist to confirm that Ghatur was indeed him.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Now then, if there won’t be any more interruptions…” Ghatur glared at Eldoril “We had best be going.” And so, the group of five began their patrol, walking across the bridge and into the city, which was still being expanded due to the sudden appearance of a good amount of mages seeking refuge from the anti-magic Empire, yet incapable of making the long, treacherous journeys to Adamantine territory.

<p class="MsoNormal">A few newly arrived mages took a sideways glance at the odd group walking through their city, but most weren’t bothered by the patrols. Although the war hadn’t started too long ago, a couple of Nordic groups decided to use the war as an excuse to take out their already-existent dislike of magic upon the College. Their efforts were quickly diminished after Bound Swords disemboweled two particularly brave Windhelm guards. However, the College still deemed patrol groups necessary, for preemptive attacks against possible intruders.

<p class="MsoNormal">Ghatur seemed like the perfect choice to be the first patrol leader; one of his Bound Swords had body parts on it for days. However, due to age concerns, Ghatur was denied his position for three years. As soon as he got it, he fiercely guarded it.

<p class="MsoNormal">The sun had now disappeared behind clouds, obscuring the only sunlight Winterhold had gotten in weeks. The Arch-Mage had prohibited use of Destruction magic needlessly, so none of the mages could warm themselves up with fire spells.

<p class="MsoNormal">--

<p class="MsoNormal">Eldoril again found fear and guilt rising within him as he was reminded of the Arch-Mage’s death at his hands. Eldoril was also suddenly very aware of the blizzard’s cold rapidly getting to him again, his Flame Cloak just went out. Recasting the spell, Eldoril attempted to wave off his negative emotions and again tried to think back to his patrol…

<p class="MsoNormal">--

<p class="MsoNormal">It was difficult to tell time without the sun’s presence. After what felt like hours of uneventful walking and shivering, Eldoril saw Ghatur stop the others.

<p class="MsoNormal">“What’s wrong?” asked Irvanea.

<p class="MsoNormal">Ghatur shushed her, rather loudly, and in his attempt at a whisper, asked, “Do you hear that?”

<p class="MsoNormal">The group listened for a few moments, until they heard faint voices and footsteps up ahead. Surveying their location, they saw that they were at a bend in the road, around Stillborn Cave. Realizing that the location was advantageous, Ghatur rushed them all into the nearby cave.

<p class="MsoNormal">It was cold and dark within the cave. None of them bothered to explore any deeper than immediately behind the entrance; they knew their job. The group listened intently for the sounds of their invaders, and they heard soon enough.

<p class="MsoNormal">A large amount of footsteps were audible, and some voices were heard singing hushed songs. It was an odd combination of caution and stupidity.

<p class="MsoNormal">The mages readied their spells as silently as they could. To them, the action seemed like the loudest in the world, but the footsteps and hushed singing slowly increased in volume, with no indication of knowledge of the mages waiting in ambush.

<p class="MsoNormal">Eventually, the sounds got so loud that one of the mages peeked out, Eldoril couldn’t remember which one, and quietly informed the other four that the Nords were passing them.

<p class="MsoNormal">The mages crept out of the cave, finding about ten Nords with their backs to the group. “On three… One… Two…” Ghatur had whispered a tad too loud. The Nords whipped around, finding the group of five mages. Seeing their numbers advantage, the Nords saw an easy victory.

<p class="MsoNormal">As the ten of them charged at the mages, most ducked out of the way. Only Ghatur summoned a Bound sword, and met two of the Nords’ swords at once, sending sparks of purple and gold flying around them. The other Nords charged too far and ended up swinging their swords into the ground, lodging them in the hard earth.

<p class="MsoNormal">As the four mages stood up, the eight Nords managed to pull their swords out, slowly advancing on the mages.

<p class="MsoNormal">Solaris was the first to attack, firing a Fury spell at one of the leftmost Nords, causing him to suddenly change his direction and swing his sword at one of the adjacent Nords. This caused the rest to become desperate and charge at the mages again.

<p class="MsoNormal">Their attack would have failed, had Ghatur’s clashing blade not emitted another shower of sparks that flew straight at the mages.

<p class="MsoNormal">It caused no serious injury, but Irvanea’s hood had sprouted a small flame, and the rest were littered with small burn marks. Just as they were recovering from the unintended attack, the Nords’ charge had arrived.

<p class="MsoNormal">The swords wounded Solaris and Irvanea, causing them to both clutch their newly formed wounds, and fall to the ground as they tried to quickly heal them and return to battle. Eldoril and Lazaeus had avoided the Nords’ swords by luck, but one of the Nords was clever enough to grab Lazaeus and pull him down along as his momentum carried him forwards.

<p class="MsoNormal">Now, Eldoril was stuck fighting 7 Nords by himself, and they stood up again, now smirking, and slowly advancing, as if drawing out his death. Eldoril fired off two Firebolts, careful not to hit Lazaeus or Ghatur, and they both hit the leftmost Nord. He fell to the ground, unsure of whether to clutch his burning torso or face. He didn’t have much time to decide.

<p class="MsoNormal">The remaining 6 Nords were now well aware of their danger. Throwing their smirks off, their advance towards Eldoril hastened. He fired off two Firebolts again, this time hitting the Nord in the middle, with results similar to the last time. However, he was beginning to feel drained. Another Firebolt, and he’d be completely out of Magicka.

<p class="MsoNormal">Just as panicked thoughts were beginning to swirl within Eldoril’s head, a purple blade tip appeared from the stomach of another Nord. It was hastily removed, and Ghatur stood behind him, smiling at his bloodied sword. Two of the remaining Nords turned to face the Orc, the others were now just moments away from slicing Eldoril’s head off.

<p class="MsoNormal">Naturally, he tried to run back to a safe distance. The Nords again smirked. “What’s wrong, little mage? Scaaaared?”, came a taunting voice, dangerously close to Eldoril. In moments, however, he was running from the battlefield, screaming for his mommy. A grinning Solaris stood nearby.

<p class="MsoNormal">The last standing Nord now stood right in front of Eldoril, hoping that his comrade would overpower the Breton mage and stand to help him. However, he was quickly dispatched, his face melted off by electricity. The five mages now encircled the one Nord, who was pleading for his life.

<p class="MsoNormal">Three of them, as Irvanea was still attempting to heal herself, went to attack him, but Eldoril waved them off. He would have this one. “Come on, then. Like a man…”, Eldoril taunted, and this was enough to get the Nord to grip his sword tight again, and stare Eldoril in the eyes.

<p class="MsoNormal">His Magicka reserves were full, and he was now ready to kill. “I’ll gut you like a fish, you magic freak!”, cried the Nord, charging at Eldoril. However, he was ready. In one swift motion, Eldoril leaped to the side, narrowly dodging the Nord’s sword. Preparing a Firebolt, Eldoril was surprised to find the Nord had recovered from his charge adequately this time, and grabbed hold of Eldoril’s outstretched hand before he could release the spell.

<p class="MsoNormal">Hovering his sword above Eldoril’s hand, the Nord quickly sliced across Eldoril’s wrist. Crying out in pain, Eldoril attempted desperately to absolve himself from the Nord’s iron grip, but it was no use. Now raising his other hand, Eldoril used a quicker spell and engulfed the Nord’s face in Flames.

<p class="MsoNormal">Releasing his grip to grab his face and attempting to put the fire out, the Nord freed Eldoril. He now found blood was leaking out of the wound on his wrist. It wasn’t deep, but it could leave a scar.

<p class="MsoNormal">All the better… Eldoril thought, Now I’ve got proof.

<p class="MsoNormal">“That… didn’t even… hurt!”, Eldoril taunted in between a strained tone and labored breaths. He hadn’t much experience with pain before, and this wasn’t exactly the best introduction.

<p class="MsoNormal">However, he tried to ignore it as he raised his right hand again, reading his Firebolt. The Nord had just finished extinguishing his burnt face when another fire hit him, but this time the flames were stronger. He screamed in pain as his face burned for the second time, slowly falling to his knees, then face-first on the ground, dead.

<p class="MsoNormal">Eldoril found pride and joy swelling in his chest. He was now what he had wanted to be his whole life. He was now a mage of war. Most people would be horrified right now, he thought. But it brought him great satisfaction to kill for his beliefs, his lifestyle. Ghatur grunted in satisfaction, then spoke. “Good job, everyone. Let’s keep going, there might be more.” And so, the group began trudging along, leaving the bodies behind. The rest of the patrol was uneventful, but Eldoril didn’t care. He was too happy to find anything boring for the moment.

<p class="MsoNormal">--

<p class="MsoNormal">Eldoril smiled fondly at the memory. No matter how poorly he was feeling, the happiness felt on that day picked him up every time. He was glad that his enormous pride had faded away; he frequently chuckled at how many times it could have gotten him killed.

<p class="MsoNormal">The weakening of Eldoril’s Flame Cloak interrupted his musings. Recasting it, Eldoril suddenly saw a dark silhouette through the snow up ahead. He was in no condition to run towards the person; he had walked the route before, but his exhaustion had caught up with him. He was already tiring, but he tried to brush it off.

<p class="MsoNormal">'Go on then. Run after it…'

<p class="MsoNormal">Even the voice’s magic couldn’t bring Eldoril’s mood down after recalling that memory.

<p class="MsoNormal">We both know I’m in no state to run at all.

<p class="MsoNormal">'C’mon… he might be carrying cheese. How I love me some cheese… in fact, I had a rather nice block of cheese the other day. Would you like to hear about it?'

<p class="MsoNormal">No.

<p class="MsoNormal">C’mo--

<p class="MsoNormal">No.

<p class="MsoNormal">The voice sighed. You’re no fun.

<p class="MsoNormal">Eldoril found he had approached the silhouette. As he squinted to try and get a better view, he saw that the silhouette was limping heavily, and it was a near miracle that it was walking.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Are you all right?”

<p class="MsoNormal">Eldoril immediately regretted calling out to the figure. What if it was a bandit merely playing a trick for loot, or worse yet, a mage sent to search for him?

<p class="MsoNormal">The figure stopped. It appeared to be trying to turn around, and Eldoril feared the worst. However, it wasn’t long before it gave up on its efforts and fell on the thick layer of snow covering the ground. Readying Firebolts, Eldoril walked forwards especially slowly, in case the unknown person was trying something.

<p class="MsoNormal">Once Eldoril was close enough to see the person somewhat clearly, he found that he’d fallen face-first. Eldoril couldn’t tell much, but the glossy hair and soaked clothes of the person indicated that he’d been in the snow for a while. The small strip of skin that Eldoril could see on the back of the person’s neck looked almost blue. Eldoril still stood at the ready with his Firebolts, but he lowered his hands slightly.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">Talsakr had walked for what had seemed like ages again. Only through willpower was he able to even survive these freezing temperatures and exhaustion he was so unused to from his life in Markarth. But eventually even willpower had to run out, and Talsakr had fallen on the snow, moments before what he hoped would be his salvation.

<p class="MsoNormal">However, when Talsakr heard soft footsteps approach him, and the crackle of fire behind him, his extremely limited thoughts had all been focused on the fear of imminent death. Perhaps if he lay in the snow and pretended to be dead long enough, the mage that was surely sent to kill him would think his job was done for him?

<p class="MsoNormal">After a few more tense moments, both waiting for an action from the other, the mage spoke again. “Are you OK…?”

<p class="MsoNormal">The slow rise and fall of Talsakr’s back with his breathing did not seem to be a good enough answer for the mage. Talsakr felt himself slowly being turned over by the mage.

<p class="MsoNormal">In a moment of surprise, the two looked at one another. Talsakr immediately recognized the mage who had talked to him before he had been possessed, and the mage seemed to recognize him right back.

<p class="MsoNormal">“You…”, the mage seethed.

<p class="MsoNormal">Talsakr tried to blink out the snow that had fallen into his eyes; his hand felt too weak for the job at the moment. The flames surrounding the mage had warmed Talsakr up a little, but the spell seemed to be aimed more at the mage.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Just… finish it…” Talsakr said, almost too quietly to hear. His self-preservation had been thrown out the window; he was sure that he would die in this seemingly endless snowstorm, and now the mage had come to prove him right.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">Eldoril looked down at the helpless Nord, feeling an odd combination of hatred and pity swirling around through him, and again his guilt and fear due to the murder of the Arch-Mage. He tried before to pin the blame on Talsakr, and succeeded somewhat; he now disliked the Nord and himself as well.

<p class="MsoNormal">Eventually, the pity won over. Eldoril crouched down, ignoring the stinging cold of the snow on his knees. Swapping out his Firebolts for Restoration spells, Eloril desperately hoped that he would at least be able to save someone today.

<p class="MsoNormal">To his relief, yellow tendrils flowed from his hands and circled around Talsakr, before flying off to the sky.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">Talsakr nearly jumped in surprise at the mage’s actions and mercy. He slowly felt life returning to him, but this also came with the cold of the snow that he was still all too well aware of. Talsakr slowly stood up after the mage was finished. He still found it somewhat difficult, as no two-minute healing could fully restore him in his condition, but it did certainly help.

<p class="MsoNormal">Slowly shuffling forwards, Talsakr found his savior shuffling along next to him. After some more somewhat awkward walking, and again ever growing exhaustion and cold, Talsakr spoke again.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Why did you save me…?”

<p class="MsoNormal">Eldoril considered the question for a few moments. Why did he?

<p class="MsoNormal">“I… I’m not even sure…” Eldoril replied eventually. “Perhaps because I didn’t want you to die for my actions…”

<p class="MsoNormal">The unsure statement hung in the air for a few moments, as they continued to shuffle forwards, giving them both a lot to think about. Eldoril thought back to the patrol again, now seeing it in a different light.

<p class="MsoNormal">After some more silence, apart from the occasional wail of the wind, Talsakr softly said, “Thank you.”