Castle of Glass I

[The Hungry Orc]

Castle of Glass I​

Igniting Old Flames​

​

​

Unlike my previous utter failures at writing fanfictions (i.e. The Harvester, something I wrote about an Orc joining the Forsworn), I plan to carry this one for a long while. This follows an unsung hero by the name of Tralen, a Redguard priest of Kynareth.​

​

Tralen's situation is very similar to Erandur's (the fellow you go with on the Vaermina quest if you don't know). He used to be a loyal servant of Namira, but has sought redemption in the Goddess of the Wind as he soon realized that worshipping the Lady of Decay wasn't worth it. His former brothers and sisters turned on him, and he was forced to slay them all. Still shaken from this event, he's erased all ties to the past and traveled to Skyrim. Just a bit of background.​

​

​

​

​

Chapter 1​

Winds of Change​

​

Lava pits.​

​

That's what they were. Lava pits. I was balancing on a rock and there were miles-deep pits of lava all around me. The next rock was so far away I knew I could never make the jump. ​

​

Suddenly, mist passed through the walls of the volcano. ​

​

That mist turned into humanoid figures.​

​

Those figures turned into faces.​

​

The faces of my brothers and sisters, now trapped in the Scuttling Void.​

​

"Tralen...help us, Tralen...why didn't you stay with us, Tralen..."​

​

They crowded around me, pushing me gently. My heartbeat quickened, their pushes slowly growing more forceful. "Tralen...why, Tralen, why..."​

​

I tried to find the words to speak, but I couldn't. I finally managed to shout after precariously going from one foot to the other. "No! NO! Stay away from me! I was doing what was right for me!"​

​

All of a sudden, everything went red and a deafening screeching sound filled the air. "TRALEN...." One of my former brothers, Hingoth, bashed me off the rock with his shoulder. Pain overwhelmed my body as I was enveloped in the lava, my comrades' ghosts plunging into my soul...​

​

"Tralen? Why are you shaking? Should we get you to the apothecary?" My vision returned to me, and the concerned face of the innkeeper, Hulda, was standing over me, along with a few other onlookers. I stumbled to my feet, my ratty green robe in the cabinet next to the bed. As I was putting it on, I saw that they expected an answer. "Heh...I must have made quite a show of myself, huh?" I said, trying to put on the best smile I could manage. All of the people watching me nodded warily, as if I were insane or something. I pulled my cowl over my head. "It's nothing to worry about. I'd better be heading off."​

​

The weather in Whiterun today was overcast: it wasn't stormy, but it wasn't sunny. I bumped into one of the Companions from Jorrvaskr on accident, and apparently he took offense. "Watch where you're going, you old hermit." I moved on, mumbling "sorry", but I guess that wasn't enough for him. "What was that? Losing your voice in your old age, huh? Someone should put you down, old dog." This is what got me to look up. "You don't want to push me."​

​

"Or do I? C'mon, what're you gonna do? Hit me? Psh, you wouldn't even--" And then I punched him right in the jaw.​

​

It looked like it hurt.​

​

"AGH! You little piece of trash!" The warrior threw a punch at me, but my reflexes kicked in and I grabbed the fist. "Walk away right now. Getting arrested for assault won't look that good on your record up there with Kodlak, now will it?" I let go, and the Nord nodded and walked off.​

​

4 hours later​

​

My belly full of fresh potatoes and water, I headed out of my house and into the streets once more, seeing if I knew any familiar faces. As I was examining the jewelry stand in the market place, I heard footsteps growing closer to me. Instinctively whirling around, I saw that it was a young Imperial man in a blue tunic. "S-sorry...are you Tralen? Traveling priest of Kynareth?" My muscles relaxed. A courier. Nothing to worry about. "Who's asking?" The courier whipped out a worn parchment from his knapsack. "Didn't say. Brown cloak, looked like a Nord. Told me he was associated with the Jarl's court, though, so I don't want to go against that." I nodded cautiously, and took the note. "For your troubles, son," I said as I tossed him a Septim. The Imperial smiled in thanks, and took off again.​

​

Worried that this Nord was of malicious intent, I waited until nightfall to read the note. In a secluded alley, I unfolded the note.​

​

You have angered Namira. You are now dead. ​

​

​

My heartbeat quickened. I stared at the note for a second too long, because a guard peeked over my shoulder, obviously too curious for his own good. "By Azura. Sir, if you'd like to press charges, we can trace the handwriting of this--"​

​

I held a hand up. "This isn't your fight, son." I walked off, leaving the guardsman standing there. Confused, as he should be.​

​

​

Tralen's Dreams​

​

​

As wary as I was to sleep again tonight, I rented a room again at the Bannered Mare. Hulda, the kind lady she is, bought me a potion to help me sleep better. She had set it on the nightstand, with a note saying that I didn't have to pay her back. I did anyway, leaving a small coin purse on top of the note. Drinking only a portion of the elixir, I set it back down on the table and climbed into the bed. It was a little while before I dozed off, the rowdy Nords causing a bigger commotion than usual. ​

​

I entered the dreaming phase rather quickly this time. It started with me in a bed, but different from the one I was sleeping in. I examined the ceiling for a moment. Cyrodiilic styling...am I back in Leyawiin?​

​

A familiar face appeared. "Glad you're awake, Tralen. You were asleep for a long while." I chuckled when I didn't want to chuckle, realizing that it was the face of my wife, Sharlian. "I don't know, maybe Irarvyne is rubbing off on me." How am I speaking when I'm not moving my mouth? And Irarvyne...one of Sharlian's good friends...and one of the people I had to kill. The phantom before me began laughing and laughing, leaning forward. She stopped midway, and all of a sudden her mouth jolted open. Fangs the size of broomsticks protruded out of her mouth as she fell down and bit into my face. I tried to scream, but was muffled by some other power. ​

​

After what seemed like eternities upon eternities of excruciating pain, Sharlian's phantom let go. Her face was back to normal, the familiar warm gaze back. "She's coming for you, Tralen. You'd better prepare yourself." Just as her face was contorting into something hideously unspeakable, I woke again, drenched in sweat. I hurriedly downed the last of Hulda's potion, threw on my robe, and burst out the door. I need to find help...​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

 

[bulbaquil]

Have to say, it's always a bit of a thrill when the story starts with the words "lava pits."

 

[Docta Corvina]

Nice work indeed, Orc! Contrary to what you said, your earlier works were not at all even close to being "utter failures".

I am very interested to see where you take this. It's intriguing!

 

[The Hungry Orc]

Chapter 2
Fortunately a Mistake

Whiterun Guardsman Haakig

Yet again, I awoke uncomfortably on my stomach. I apparently roll around in my sleep a lot, and the small cots that they give us in the barracks don't give me much room for moving. So, I end up in strange positions.

I was the first one up, then Hjolreid and Skalheim woke up to the sound of me noisily putting my uniform on. "If you did a little more exercise instead of just standing in one place, you wouldn't have as much trouble putting on the cuirass," Hjolreid said, half venomously and half jokingly. I scoffed, not knowing much else to do. "Mangy piece of pit bait." He lets the sightseeing of getting the patrol at the crossroads get to his head, he does, I thought as I put on my helmet.

Skalheim headed up to the Cloud District to cover the Dragonsreach shift, while I stayed in the market area. As I was heading up to my usual perch between the alchemy store and the general trader, a man in a green robe rushed past me, kicking up dust as he went. "Hey, what's the hurry?" I called after him.

That's when I recognized him. That robe...he's the man from last night...Talos save me, I thought as I tried to catch up with him. Just as he was about to pass through the gate, I put a firm hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong? You look as pale as a ghost." The Redguard took a deep breath for a moment, then looked me in the eyes.

"Can you keep a secret?"

Tralen

By the WINDS, what was I thinking?! My inner thoughts were turning into a swirling storm of anger, while I did my absolute best to keep a mellow look on my face. Gods know I don't need to be mixing entire city watches into this affair.

I had told the guard everything. The nightmares, my past, and how it was coming back to bite me in my gods-damned arse. The worst part is he started off for the barracks just as I finished talking, no doubt to inform his fellow guardsmen of the raving lunatic he had just discovered trying to run out of the city.

Quickly kneeling down to the small shrine of Kynareth I had erected in my home, I prayed for her guidance. Goddess of the Winds, be my shield as I combat this foe in your-- I don't know how, but the wooden door almost bursting off its hinges cut me off from my thoughts.

There stood the guard, no longer clad in his official outfit but in a full set of genuine Elven armor.

"How in the name of Peryite did you..." I was so dumbstruck by the man's choice of garb and however in blazes he got it, I couldn't even finish my sentence. Apparently, I didn't have to, because the man gestured for me to follow him. "My name's Haakig by the way. Used to be Haakig Gem-Breaker, traveling adventurer. Which is where I got the armor, since you seemed to look so curious." He grinned at me, and I gave a light chuckle.

Maybe this guy is trustworthy...


Robent the Spider

The clothes I was wearing were way too coarse, and it made my entire body itchy. I wanted to just keep my robes on and hide in the distance, but that was before I knew that the areas along the gate were either open plain areas with no tallgrass to hide in, or a Khajiit caravan would be camped out there. Namira knows I could just kill them all if She willed it...

Reinhardt told us that he had already sent the note to the Coven Traitor. How he does it without arousing suspicion, none of us have any idea: I would say he's blessed by the Lady of Decay herself, but the Keeper of the Ring is somewhere else entirely at the moment, and She hasn't spoken a single whisper to any of the others as of now, including myself.

As we were headed up here, a passing onlooker stopped to stare. I noticed that the expression on his face was that of an inquirer's, and if one person discovered our true vocation, we'd be wanted men and women all over Skyrim. Before I could move, though, Reinhardt quickly dispatched him with his dagger, up close and back at the front of the line in about two seconds and all I saw was the flowing of his cloak. I guess that's how he became the 'alpha male' of the group...

In the midst of setting up the ambush, Lariah scouted ahead into the city and saw that our mark was with company. "A Nord in full Elven armor, with a greatsword on his back and a mace in a sheath. Don't know why he had the latter, though," she said to us as she got back down to our position. Reinhardt didn't even flinch. "The Lady of Decay blesses us now. Be it a second enemy or an entire brood of dragons we face, we will prevail." I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes. There he goes, talking in the cryptic way he does...

We heard the gates creak open from down at the stables, and so we immediately got into our positions and acted like normal civilians. Reinhardt and I struck a conversation while Lariah was examining the horses along with Lotok. I think the Orc was either acting very interested in buying a horse or was playing the role of a character with very strange fetishes. I couldn't tell. Everyone else was either buying something from the Khajiit caravan or headed down to the carriage, going as slow as possible.

When they walked through the archway, my eyes darted in their direction for a moment. I saw Lotok clenching his teeth, thirsty for the blood of the Defiler. We have so many names for this fellow, but we never use his real one, I humorously noted to myself.

As expected, Lotok was the first to rush our quarry. The Nord accompanying him apparently had the reflexes and reaction time of a wolf, though, as he quickly drew his greatsword and felled the Orc in a clean and crisp motion. The Nord fumbled for the mace in his sheath, and tossed it to our Redguard prey. He apparently knew how to use it, as he wounded Lariah severely by swinging it at her leg. As he was about to finish her off, Reinhardt burst onto him out of absolutely nowhere. His dagger gleamed in the sunlight as he whipped it out of its sheath, and he was about to deliver the killing blow when the Nord bashed him off his companion.

Realizing that they were severely outmatched both in number and in preparedness, the two fled. I casted a few firebolts after them, but they disappeared before they hit their targets.

Disappointed in the failure, Reinhardt walked up to Lariah in that solemn expression we all knew. Wait...whenever he's got that expression, he's about to--

And then Lariah's head was gone.

 

[The Hungry Orc]

Chapter 3
A Story


Tralen

We kept running, and running. I was still amazed at the fact I was still able to keep going, even though my feet felt like jelly. All I remember seeing is an Orc in black armor rushing us from one side, then being ambushed from all others. I still held onto the mace that Haakig gave me, in case they followed us. These guys either really want me dead or have something very big to prove.

We came up onto a steep incline. "Can you climb?" Haakig asked me as he put the greatsword back in its sheath. I nodded shakily, not completely sure of myself. My Nord bodyguard gave it a quick scan, looking for footholds to start off on. "Here's a couple rocks over here. Try and get your feet on them." I managed to do so, and kept a steady pace as I found more loose rocks to grab.

It took us a while, but we managed to make our way up the rock. What greeted us wasn't that welcoming: a single statue out in the wilderness depicting a sight that chilled me to the bone.

Molag Bal.

Haakig, apparently, was eager to explore the makeshift Daedra shrine, and rushed up ahead without me. I decided to stay back, but moved a little bit so I could still see him.

A lone Khajiit was hunched over at the base of the shrine, his dark orange tail slowly going back and forth, like a pendulum. Haakig attempted conversation. "Excuse me, sir, but--"

"DID I ever tell you the one about the Prince's daughter and the Frost Atronach?" The cat whirled around with a grin on his face, which made me shiver. Seems like this Khajiit would be a better fit in the Shivering Isles than Coldharbour...

Haakig warily shook his head. "AhAAAAA! Don't feel bad, my Nord friend! Not many people have either, especially up here in Skyrim! Brr...chilly." The cat went back to the base of the shrine, and picked up a book.

"I'll just cut right to the chase here...let's see..." the Khajiit said as he hurriedly flipped the pages. "The Lord of Coldharbour had a daughter, called Molag Grunda. A Winged Twilight Daedra, she had strong affections for the lowly Frost Atronach Nomeg Gwai."

The still-unnamed Khajiit slammed the book shut. "See, Lord Molag Bal didn't like this idea. Not one bit. Guess what he did?" Haakig tensed up, expecting a blind attack. I still stood where I was, not sure where this was going. "What's he trying to say?" I whispered to Haakig. "No clue."

"The Twilight and the Atronach were BANISHED, HAHAAAAA! Banished to the deepest, darkest depths of Oblivion! And as I speak, they still face eternal punishment for what they did to anger Lord Molag Bal." The Khajiit turned to me.

"Ring any bells...Tralen?"


Robent the Spider

With Namira as my witness, I had never seen a more controlled anger than what I saw on Reinhardt's face. He walked up to the terrified carriage driver and horse stable proprietor. "You will not speak a single word of this to anyone, or we will find you. And we will make you suffer. You'll never go a single day without feeling the Lady of Decay breathing down your neck. Stay silenced...and you will be spared." The two nodded, and Reinhardt sheathed his dagger.

I didn't try to strike up a conversation with him. If he was like any other Nords, I would just give him some mead and that would calm him down, but Reinhardt isn't like his kinsmen. Not at all. I looked at the bodies of Lotok and Lariah. Both honorable deaths...both for a pointless cause.

If he wants to renounce his ways, let him. I see no harm in letting one person go. Reinhardt was apparently trying to talk to me, because a loud bellow shook me from my thoughts. "ROBENT!" he shouted. I stood before him as a soldier would in the Imperial Legion in front of his commanding officer. "We're headed back to Haafingar. There's nothing left for us here." I nodded, agreeing that headed there would be the most sensible course of action at the moment. I'd take a chance on those two squealing to the guards about this whole affair, I thought as I followed Reinhardt.

Haakig

It's safe to say that what the Khajiit had said confused me. How does he know who he is? The cat appeared completely stagnant as he remained on one knee in front of the shrine, mouthing words inaudibly. Tralen was staring at the ground, expressionless. Must be signifying something.

I grabbed hold of his arm and we continued on through the wilderness. Soon enough, Tralen was moving on his own again. "How'd that cat know your name?" I asked him cautiously, unsure of whether or not the question would trigger another one of his space-outs. "I don't know. I've never seen him before, or associated myself with Molag Bal. Some fancy Daedric foresight?" I thought back to when he told me about his former vocation, and came up with a few reasons, but decided not to say anything.

"I think what he was saying was true, though. About Molag Grunda and the love affair with the Atronach." I thought back to my short stint in Morrowind, when I was reading up on the different Daedra in case I ever came across one back in my adventuring days, and I remembered a tome that covered Molag Bal and the different shrines around Morrowind's landscape. Tralen nodded. "It is. But I thought the Winged Twilights were just servants of Azura." I shrugged. "Just some dysfunctionality between the Princes, I guess."

Tralen

I knew what the Khajiit meant.

I did remember his face.

He didn't believe in Molag Bal.

He believed in Namira.

 

[The Hungry Orc]

Sorry for the jet lag. Chapter 4 should be out in a couple of days.