The Itinerant Pendant (1) (2)

[Zadama]

I'm not quite sure if the Literature forum is still active - the last post was quite a while ago. I also don't know if literature is still being accepted for the Silgrad Tower project - but if it is, here's the first "book" of a story that I plan on continuing to write.

- One -

The bleak alleyways of the Imperial City are the very harbingers of death. Crawling with Beggars, riddled with Disease, infested by rats – a sore sight for any eye. Yet, the Empire does not attempt to clean them; instead, it pretends that they do not exist. The funds of the Septim Treasury are stretched too far and thin, say they, to warrant any expenditure on a “minor” problem in a single City – whether that city be the capital or not.

The upper-classes tend to eloquently refer to all alleyway inhabitants as the “Scum of the Empire”, whose very meagre existence does tarnish the otherwise “impeccable” City. But alas; not all who reside there do so out of their free will, but out of necessity.

On one bitter Evening Star morning, a most peculiar figure arrived in the Imperial City. Clad in nothing but a tattered, weatherworn cloak and an equally dilapidated robe, the Stranger made his way through the Districts, trying earnestly to seek out a place of shelter for the coming night – to no avail. Saturalia was rapidly approaching, and all of the Inns and Taverns were full of merrymakers, celebrating in the warmth of a blazing fire.

And so, it came to be that the Stranger found himself in the most sheltered place he could find; an alley of the Market District. Even the lowly beggars looked down upon him, such was the state he was in. Shivering in the biting cold and retching – as the pungent air was an acquired smell – the haggard Stranger fell into a restless, fitful sleep, unaware of what the morrow would bring.

Beggars in the slums are not above the savage act of murder. One could think of them as the Ashlanders of Cyrodiil; accepting of gifts, welcoming of kindness - but they survive in a ragged climate aloft with many dangers, and so they do what they must to survive. After all, survival is the most basic instinct instilled into us all.

The glinting of a silver chain in the dawning sun caught the eye of a veteran beggar in particular. Knife in hand, he approached the Stranger cautiously. Experience had taught the beggar may things – in particular, to strike first, rob them blind, and then ask questions if the victim still drew breath. Noticing the Stranger was not an Imperial, but a Dunmer, was the last straw; for beggars are wary of all but their own kind. With a single fluid motion, the knife pierced the Stranger’s throat and left as it had entered; clean.

The beggar sheathed the shiv and took all that he could pilfer. A few measly Septims, the bedraggled (now sanguine, blood specked) travelling cloak, and the prize item itself, the silver chain. The Stranger’s eyes’ flickered only one, or twice, before the severity of his neck wound overcame him, and he slipped away into the Abyss. Uncared, unloved, and forgotten by all but the beggar -who moved swiftly into a barren doorway to examine his prize.

It was exquisite, as far as silver chains go; intricately detailed with patterns and symbols, most of which were alien to the unlearned beggar. Yet, the most striking aspect of the chain, hanging by a single link of silver, was an inscribed emblem. Emblazoned with gold and tinted purple, it was a sight which the beggar was sure would never be paralleled, at least not in his dreary existence.

Only a single extolled word was clear to his greedy, twitching eyes.

“Telvanni”


I plan on writing the second part of this story tomorrow, which will continue to story of the amulet - as it gets passed between various owners, and perhaps eventually back to House Telvanni.

[AnImpatientFan]

:goodjob:

That was amazingly well written!
You should seriously consider writting a book of some kind in RL.
The way the sentences flow in the text feels very professional!

[Pride]

Brilliant!
I agree with AnImpatientFan, you should be writing professionally!
Look forward to seeing the next part of the story.

[jucklesjenk]

I enjoyed reading that a lot. :goodjob:

The literature boards are mainly inactive at the moment because we don't have an editor to run them since Deeza retired, but ideas and concepts are always welcome.

[Zadama]

-Two-

The beggar was in hysterics.

Not least because he was in the ominous bowels of the Imperial City Prison – or that he was surrounded by three, towering Legionnaires – but it seemed that the harsh reality of his impending imprisonment had dawned upon him. His face was adorned with dark bruises and jagged scars; gifts from an apathetic Watchman. The life sentence was much deserved, however; the unscrupulous beggar was naught but a cunning, callous murderer.

His name was recorded in the annals of a filthy old tome, which lay on a rather barren, decrepit desk. A grubby hand took hold of an aged feather quill, sitting somewhat solemnly in a half-shattered inkwell. The hand’s owner wore a sadistic expression on his face; his brow contorted and twisted with a grim satisfaction.

After the legalities were over and done with – hastily though they were – the Legionnaires were free to do as they wished. The Empire cared not for its Scum, and rather wished that all of that kind were hidden from public perception. Of course, the charade of “Justice” had to be up kept, for a “good image”. The sad fact was this – most of the Imperial Watch was severely corrupt. Not just the lower ranks, however, but those in the highest echelons; blinded by power and seduced by gold.

Thus, once the devious beggar had been dragged off into the Prison’s dreary depths, the three men filched his former possessions, meagre though they were. A small handful of Septims, enough for three each, a tarnished iron dagger and an array of tools used for nefarious purposes. One of the shrewd Legionnaires, however, covertly pocketed a further trophy. A silver chain of some description; etched with symbols and patterns that he did not recognise. If it were not for the accompanying violet pendant, the Legionnaire’s covetous eyes would have missed its magnificence. From the quick glance before the snatch, he had only registered a single word.

“Telvanni”

And so, as the clock struck and ancient bells chimed, signalling the coming of a new day, the guard changed – though the new shift would be as fraudulent and voracious as the last. The three in the Prison parted ways, until they would reconvene on the morrow. All were richer; one was better armed, the other well equipped, yet the last had come out best of all. It was he who strode through cobbled paths and narrow streets, with the air of a false importance.

This one isn't quite as long as the first one, but I hope that it is of the same quality =)

There are three more to come, so the story should end up looking like this:

-One- The Beggar
-Two- The Guard
-Three- The Merchant
-Four- The Traveller
-Five- The Telvanni

[jucklesjenk]

Yet again, Zadama, you have produced a very good peice of literature. :goodjob:

I can't wait to read what happens in the next three =)

[AnImpatientFan]

:goodjob:


Another good chapter.

[Pride]

Once again, brilliant!
You've really captured the Imperial City in your story. :goodjob: