Post by Will on May 14, 2011 1:21:03 GMT -5
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New information released since this story's writing have revealed that Skyrim's Mage's Guild is called the College of Winterhold. However, I'm not going to change it in this or other stories, as I've put references to this story in a lot of my other ones. In my stories it will remain the Academy of Mages, in Riften.
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“WARLOCK!” A shrill voice shouted, and you feel a strong electric shock blast you in the chest. It was Master Mage Eliice, second in command to Arch Mage Alaro. “This is the third time I have addressed you, learn to pay attention or I’ll have you demoted! The Arch Mage wants to see you, though I can’t imagine why he would want you.” She shrugged and walked out of the library.
The Arch Mage himself wanted to speak to you? You had never even spoken a word to him, and had only seen him at speeches or demonstrations at the Academy. You put on your heavy Grizzly pelt coat and cloak and stepped outside into the freezing Skyrim air. Redguards were not made for this kind of cold.
You walk through the courtyard of the Skyrim Academy of Mages. It was one long, wooden building, with a massive tower separating two wings. It stood above the city of Riften. You had read about the Arcane University in Cyrodiil, and this building looked like a run down shed in comparison. But it was home. The courtyard was usually crowded with apprentices practicing basic magic or reading under the birch trees, or ganging up on higher ranked mages trying to coerce them into casting a powerful Fire spell to keep them warm. But there was absolutely nobody around. It was completely silent aside from the howl of the wind.
You open the large doors to the Arch Mage’s tower and look around. It’s an empty circular room, with no doors other than the one you walked in from. There was hardly any decoration, aside from a few tapestries and an inscribed circle in the center of the room. Suddenly the circle begins to glow a purple light, and in a flash, Master Mage Eliice appears before you.
“Step into the circle, Warlock, it shall bring you to the Arch Mage.” And In another flash of light she vanishes. You walk into the circle, bracing yourself, and you feel as though a hammer impacts your chest, and after a blinding flash of light, you are standing in a large circular room, lit by torches, all enchanted to burn endlessly. Arch Mage Alaro sat behind his desk, a scroll in his hand, and Eliice sat on a chair in the corner of the room.
The Arch Mage looks up at you with a strange look on his face. A combination of pity and…hope? He was a very old man, thin to the bone and so wrinkled he resembled a vulture. Many bandits and highwaymen had made the mistake of underestimating him. Those people were not around anymore.
“Warlock, I call on you today because there is a very great danger I fear only you can prevent. This task falls under the duty of the Mage’s Guild. None of our other members, even me, have what is needed to deal with this threat. It is terrifying to think if not for a simple time of birth, this city, and perhaps all of Skyrim, could fall.”
You think back to your childhood. Born in the city of Falkreath, you were an illegitimate child of a city guardsman and a Breton woman, who was a prisoner in the city, arrested for thievery. Nobody knew who the father of the child was, the Breton had sworn to keep it a secret, however when the lock on her cell broke from “Rust Damage” (Your father’s warhammer) he had adopted you, who had been cared for in an orphanage up until then.
As is the custom of all Redguards, you were trained in combat from an early age. Your father had feared you would have magical talents, because of your Breton mother, however even by the age of 18, no arcane abilities had shown themselves.
One day, you had been exploring a ruin outside the city, when you had seen a large, glowing, blue stone sitting atop a large column. You shot it down with your bow, and when you picked it up, you felt a massive surge of power shoot through your body, your hands igniting into fire, but you could not feel the heat. You knew this was magic, and you loved the feeling. You soon had learned how to blast fireballs across the room, and eventually transform the fire into lightning, and then into ice, and eventually were able to use different spells in each hand.
After a week of practicing with these spells in secret, your hands suddenly stopped glowing, and you could not cast any more spells. You remembered the blue stones, and ventured deeper into the cave, and after searching the entire ruin, had found ten of the items. You stuffed the heavy stones in your pack, and carried them back to the city, excited to show your father your newfound abilities. As soon as you arrived home, you tossed a small fireball into an unlit torch on the wall, igniting the oil.
You had expected your father to be delighted, perhaps even a bit afraid, however, you had not expected the heavy-handed slap on the face and the hissing yell of “STOP THAT RIGHT NOW!”
This is when you had learned the race of Redguards had forbidden magical practices, and that while your father was not angry with you, he was terrified of what would happen if other members of the guard were to learn of it. Your father was understanding of your situation, had known it might happen because of your mother, but the Guard of Falkreath was heavy in the Yokudan race. He had paid for a carriage to transport you to the city of Riften, where the Acadamy of Mages was located. He had said you could live a normal life there.
How wrong he was. You had always believed using these stones to activate your magical abilities was normal among mages. This was, however, untrue. Upon speaking with a scholar at the Academy, you learned you had been born under the star sign of the Atronach. People of all races born during the month of the Atronach were cursed with the inability to regenerate their own Magika, making them ineffective mages, and normally shunned from the Mage’s Guild.
However, those born under the Atronach had an extraordinary ability to absorb any magic cast at them, and also have a higher amount of Magika inside of them, making them highly effective at combating rogue mages…or Necromancers. After learning you were alone here, the guild had made an exception for you, and had given up nearly their entire stock of Welkynd Stones for your training.
Now you were a Warlock, a very high rank within the guild, and, as proven during combat practice with other mages, were able to pack more brute power into your Destruction spells then even Master Mage Eliice.
The Arch Mage took a sip from a smoking vial on his desk, coughing after he did so. “Five days ago, an Apprentice was sent to deliver Soul Gems to the city’s spellshop. He arrived back here, hours late, badly beaten and near death. He would not have made it if it were not for Eliice’s knowledge of Restoration magic. Once he regained consciousness, he told Eliice that he had been attacked by a pack of Undead. No such creatures have been seen in these parts for many years. The apprentice is greatly skilled in Alteration magic, especially forming magical shields, and judging by the wounds on his body, the magic controlling the Undead bodies was extremely powerful…I fear a Necromancer has made his home in our city.”
He took another sip from the mysterious smoking vial. “I have informed the Count of Rifton, and the guards are making sure all citizens are remaining in their homes. Each street is being watched by many guardsmen, however ten of them were found dead within a day, and it has gotten much worse since then. I have also confined the apprentices to their quarters, and assigned scholars to guard each of their rooms. The Undead are drawn to high concentrations of Magika.”
He placed his hand on the smoking vial, and in a flash of purple light, it vanished from the table. “Today it seems as though your birthsign, which was always considered a curse to other mages, may be the only thing standing between this city’s destruction. While of only half-mage birth, you have more raw power then any other mage here, and unlike me, great knowledge of the combative arts.”
The Arch Mage coughed quietly into his hand before he continued speaking. “It saddens me that I have not yet been able to banish Necromancy from Skyrim, however I will not stand by as my students are attacked, nor citizens of this city. After the killing of guardsman, I have authority to bring down this Necromancer. I am very old. If you return alive, I will step down from the position of Arch Mage. When this happens, you will take my place.”
“WHAT?” Eliice shrieked from the corner of the room, jumping to her feet. “You would give the rank and responsibility of Arch Mage to this…this broken Mage!” Her hands begin to smoke, a look of the utmost rage on her tall face. “I have served you for ten years and you leave me by the roadside!” her hands ignited and she ran towards you, you draw your longsword, prepared to defend yourself-
“ENOUGH!” roared Alaro, standing, and with a wave of his hand, smashed his heavy desk between you and Eliice. He threw out his hand, and Eliice’s fists were encased in ice, and with another wave of his hand, she was lifted off the floor and pinned to a wall of the room.
The Arch Mage was so old, so small, that when he sat behind his desk, he looked as though he could die at any second. But now, standing tall and throwing around a large High Elf as though she were a rag doll, he was a terrifying man.
“I have allowed your abusive tendencies for years now, girl,” he hissed. “Burning Apprentices who fail to learn their assigned spell set, shocking students who do not listen to you. I have nothing against disciplining belligerent students, but when you attempt to KILL a Warlock inside of my own office, after a direct order I gave him, I will NOT tolerate it!”
He threw down his hand, smashing Eliice into the floor. “You are hereby demoted to the rank of Apprentice. Another ten years will hopefully teach you the way of the Mages. Now get out of my sight.”
Eliice silently vanished, leaving behind the purple light of a Teleportation spell.
Alaro dragged his desk back into place, taking a seat behind it. The old Breton was acting as though nothing had just happened. “You understand why you must be the one to carry out this task? The Undead are powerful, though they have no magic of their own. Most Mages are frail, and have no knowledge of armed combat.
Eventually their Magika would fall low, leaving them defenseless. While their Magika could slowly regenerate, they do not have enough to survive a horde of enemies. Between your sword and your unnatural amount of Magika, you are the only one here who can destroy this Necromancer.”
You kneel before the Arch Mage, and he stands and walks to a chest on the floor of his chamber. He opens it with a wave, and two Welkynd stones float out and into your hands. “These are the last of our Welkynd stones. Use them well. I am afraid I do not know of the Necromancer’s location. He should not be hard to find…just follow the Undead.” He dismisses you, and you step into the circle in the center of the room, where you are teleported back into the base of the tower.
You go to your room in the high-ranked Mage quarters, and strap on your set of leather armor. The building was completely empty, the other high-ranked Mages were guarding the apprentices inside of their quarters. You wondered how bad the issue must have been for this sort of security. You found out the second you pushed open the gate of the Academy.
The entire city was burning. Guards were running back and forth between houses, and the screams filled the air. Just from where you were, you could see over a hundred skeletons and zombies sweeping through the city. The Undead were simply bodies, animated by dark magic. You could slice off their limbs and even their heads, burn them, poison them, shock them, crush them. As long as there was anything left to move, they could not be killed.
You climbed the many stairs down into the city, your sword held in front of you. Almost immediately, three zombies lurch out of the shadows behind a building, one of them headless, and another missing an arm. You slash with your sword, opening deep gashes in the zombie’s flesh, but none of them slowed down. You did not want to waste your Magika, and you beat on the approaching Undead while avoiding their slow strikes, eventually slicing them into useless hunks of bone.
You slowly continued through the city, following the blood and bodies. You roll backwards, as a guard sprints out of an alley, being slashed at by four skeletons wielding crude iron axes. You kick one of the skeletons so hard it’s bones separate and It collapses in a motionless heap. You smash another of the skeletons with your blade, and rip apart the last two with your bare hands. Skeletons were so much easier to kill then zombies were.
The guard stands and dusts himself off. “Thanks for that stranger, those demons almost had me.”
You ask the guard if he had any idea where the Necromancer was hiding.
“Hiding? She hasn’t stopped talking! She’s risen all of the bodies in the city’s graveyard, and she’s controlling them from there. She’s not exactly being secretive about it either.”
So the Necromancer was a woman. It was unexpected, but it would not change anything. You carve your way through the city, cutting down dozens of bodies on the way. You eventually find yourself at the edge of Rifton’s graveyard. Many centuries of fallen guards and citizens were buried here, including counts and countesses, and many mages.
You stood on a high wall, and overlooked the graveyard. Almost all of the graves were upturned, but only about a dozen bodies shuffled around the grass; all the rest were attacking the city. You turn to your right and you see her, a figure in a long black robe standing in the very center of the graveyard, waving her hands as though she were a puppeteer. You drop off the high wall and roll, and sprint towards the figure.
As you got closer, you could here her, an insane, high-pitched voice piercing the air. “DESTROY EVERYTHING MY PETS! TEAR THEM LIMB FROM LIMB!” The voice sounded familiar to you, but it was so distorted by rage you could not tell from where.
You slow to a walk, cutting down a skeleton who lunged at you from behind a mausoleum. The Necromancer heard you and turned to face you.
“Yessssss,” she hissed, reaching up and throwing off her hood. You almost fell backwards, gasping in shock. It was Eliice. Her eyes were mad, her pupils drifting off in different directions. She let out a cackle, and then spat on the ground.
“I had this all planned out. Raise some bodies, cause some panic. When I was sent to stop it, I would make up a story of how I fought and killed the Necromancer. I would be made Arch Mage, and I would use that position to cover my actions as I slowly spread my minions throughout Skyrim.”
She lurched forward, moving as though she was being pushed by some invisible force. “BUT NO!” The old coward sends YOU! The broken mage, to stop ME! You, a Mage! What a joke!” she spat. “You do not even have your own Magika, you steal it from artifacts made by MY people, MY race! You don’t deserve to be called a Mage!”
She lifted her hands above her head, and you step back as twenty hands burst from the ground, clawing their way out of their graves. Ten headless zombies stood in a circle around you, but other then their missing heads, their bodies were remarkably intact.
“Do you know who these are? Many years before you arrived in this city, these people were my brothers and sisters in Necromancy. We were researching Immortality, and a guardsman had gotten killed for interfering with us. My clan had succeeded in making their bodies immortal, but this did not stop them from being beheaded by the city guard. With no brains to move them, their bodies lay here, unharmed. But now with my help, they will unknowingly aid me in destroying this city!”
She held out her arms, and beams of yellow light surrounded her body, and suddenly she was encased in dark red, demonic looking armor, and grasping a massive battleaxe of the same fashion. All ten of the zombies lunge towards you, and you roll backward, out of the circle of Undead.
You jump to your feet and slash at the oncoming zombies, but Eliice appears behind you in a blast of purple light, slashing at you with the massive axe. You easily avoid it, her swings were extremely slow and clumsy. She slashes at you again, and you duck under it, and her strike cleaves one of the zombies in two.
She howls in rage, and kicks out at you, catching you off guard. She brings the axe over her head and tries to drive it into your prone body, but you roll out of it’s path, and the axe lodges itself in the ground. You grasp the handle of the weapon, kicking upwards and wrenching it from her grip. You stand and swing the axe around, but it vanishes from your hands in less then a second.
You pick up your longsword, and just manage to dodge a blast of fire from Eliice. One of the headless zombies grabs you from behind, attempting to rip your arm off your body. You twist and slash the monster’s arm off, and take ten paces back. Nine of the zombies were still alive, and Eliice was standing behind them, both of her hands emitting bursts of lightning. You had no other choice.
You sheath your blade, holding both hands in front of you. They burst into flame, the familiar pleasant heat encasing your arms. You launch spell after spell into the oncoming crowds of Undead, dodging Eliice’s lightning. In her fit of rage her aim was extremely poor. You change the magical element in your left hand, spikes of ice encasing your fist, and you launch a long ice lance into the leg of an oncoming zombie. It collapses to the floor, unable to stand.
You feel your magical energy weakening, and using the last of your Magika, you form an ice barrier between you and the seven remaining zombies. You scramble with your pack, grasping one of the Welkynd stones. You feel your Magika growing stronger, as a zombie lunges around your ice barrier. You unsheath your blade, and sever both of the zombie’s arms in two powerful strokes. You kick it to the ground, where it squirmed around pathetically. Five minutes of fighting and casting, dodging Eliice’s spells, only her and one zombie remain.
You kick the zombie to the ground, and encase your hand in stone-hard ice, smashing your fist into the zombie’s spine, rendering it immobile. You see a glint in the corner of your eye, and you barely avoid an Ice Spike from Eliice.
You stand and face her, grasping the last of the Welkynd stones in your hand. You absorb it’s energy, and drop the empty rock to the grass.
“You are stronger than I am, faster than I am, and have more magical powers than I do. I will admit to all of those things. But at the end of it all, your magic will stop working, and you will be defenseless as I burn you to dust.”
She throws a fireball at you, and you deflect it with a shield spell. You slash at her with your sword, but it bounces pathetically off her heavy conjured armor. She throws you back with a Telekinesis spell, and follows up with a series of lightning bolts, two of which hit you in the chest. If you had been wearing metal armor you would have been dead, but the light leather had stopped any conduction.
You launch an Ice Spike at her, and it too is stopped in it’s tracks by her armor. You throw three shock spells at her, but she blocks them with a shield spell, throwing a large fireball towards you, which you dodge by a hair. It singed your arm, but did no real damage.
You hold out both hands, charging a massive Freeze spell, but jump back in pain as the ball of ice shatters and melts, and the ice surrounding your hands dissipates. You had no Magika left.
Eliice’s eyes open wide, and she walks towards you, letting out a mad laugh. “I told you this would happen! No guards have seen my face, and you will be dead, and no paperwork filing my demotion has been written yet. When I send my minions to kill the Arch Mage, I will take his place!”
She holds a hand in front of her, and fires a continuous stream of lighting into your body. You writhe on the ground in pain, feeling the burning of her spell. For ten seconds she shocks you, and you feel yourself slipping out of consciousness. And then it stops. You look up and see her empty hand smoking, and her armor had vanished. Her own Magika had run out.
You could feel it inside of you, the power of Magika. You must have somehow absorbed it from her attack. You could hardly breath, but you had to stand. She would regain her Magika soon. With one heavy breath, you launch yourself to your feet bringing up your right hand. Your most powerful ice spell blasts from the ground, encasing Eliice to the neck.
“NO! NOT ONLY DO YOU DEFILE MY PEOPLE BY STEALING THEIR OWN POWER, YOU STEAL MAGIKA FROM LIVING MAGES! I WILL SEE YOU BURN IN OBLIVION, I WILL PER-” She is interrupted as you smash your most powerful fire spell into her chest, the ice encasing her instantly melting, and she falls to the ground.
You feel your magical energy is low, but you should still have enough. You conjure a small bolt of lighting in both of your hands, and throw them into the puddle of melted ice surrounding Eliice. You can hardly watch as she is electrocuted, and she collapses to the floor, dead.
You look around, and you can see all of the zombies and skeletons still attacking the city falling to the ground motionless. You slowly make your way back to the Academy through the burning city.
The next day, you stand in front of fifty apprentices and twenty scholars of the Mage’s Guild. The Arch Mage stands before you, and hands you a long mage’s staff, forged from solid silver. He waves his hand, and long blue robes appear from nowhere and fall into your hands.
“I hereby officially step down from the position of Arch Mage. This man will take my place. I choose him for his unquestioning loyalty to the Mages Guild, and his unmatched power and skill. As long as he rules this Guild, no danger will fall on this Academy, and I trust he will be a greater Arch Mage then I ever was. This man should be proof to all of you, that if you never give up, and stand tall through any trial, you can become anything you choose to, no matter the forces stacked against you.”
He slowly makes his way off the podium, and you pull the Arch Mage robes over your head, and hold the staff out in front of you.
You bow to the apprentices-your apprentices.
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Sorry that was so long! I get really tied up in these sometimes. Hope you enjoyed it, and I’ll try to make my next few a bit faster paced- Aggro
New information released since this story's writing have revealed that Skyrim's Mage's Guild is called the College of Winterhold. However, I'm not going to change it in this or other stories, as I've put references to this story in a lot of my other ones. In my stories it will remain the Academy of Mages, in Riften.
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“WARLOCK!” A shrill voice shouted, and you feel a strong electric shock blast you in the chest. It was Master Mage Eliice, second in command to Arch Mage Alaro. “This is the third time I have addressed you, learn to pay attention or I’ll have you demoted! The Arch Mage wants to see you, though I can’t imagine why he would want you.” She shrugged and walked out of the library.
The Arch Mage himself wanted to speak to you? You had never even spoken a word to him, and had only seen him at speeches or demonstrations at the Academy. You put on your heavy Grizzly pelt coat and cloak and stepped outside into the freezing Skyrim air. Redguards were not made for this kind of cold.
You walk through the courtyard of the Skyrim Academy of Mages. It was one long, wooden building, with a massive tower separating two wings. It stood above the city of Riften. You had read about the Arcane University in Cyrodiil, and this building looked like a run down shed in comparison. But it was home. The courtyard was usually crowded with apprentices practicing basic magic or reading under the birch trees, or ganging up on higher ranked mages trying to coerce them into casting a powerful Fire spell to keep them warm. But there was absolutely nobody around. It was completely silent aside from the howl of the wind.
You open the large doors to the Arch Mage’s tower and look around. It’s an empty circular room, with no doors other than the one you walked in from. There was hardly any decoration, aside from a few tapestries and an inscribed circle in the center of the room. Suddenly the circle begins to glow a purple light, and in a flash, Master Mage Eliice appears before you.
“Step into the circle, Warlock, it shall bring you to the Arch Mage.” And In another flash of light she vanishes. You walk into the circle, bracing yourself, and you feel as though a hammer impacts your chest, and after a blinding flash of light, you are standing in a large circular room, lit by torches, all enchanted to burn endlessly. Arch Mage Alaro sat behind his desk, a scroll in his hand, and Eliice sat on a chair in the corner of the room.
The Arch Mage looks up at you with a strange look on his face. A combination of pity and…hope? He was a very old man, thin to the bone and so wrinkled he resembled a vulture. Many bandits and highwaymen had made the mistake of underestimating him. Those people were not around anymore.
“Warlock, I call on you today because there is a very great danger I fear only you can prevent. This task falls under the duty of the Mage’s Guild. None of our other members, even me, have what is needed to deal with this threat. It is terrifying to think if not for a simple time of birth, this city, and perhaps all of Skyrim, could fall.”
You think back to your childhood. Born in the city of Falkreath, you were an illegitimate child of a city guardsman and a Breton woman, who was a prisoner in the city, arrested for thievery. Nobody knew who the father of the child was, the Breton had sworn to keep it a secret, however when the lock on her cell broke from “Rust Damage” (Your father’s warhammer) he had adopted you, who had been cared for in an orphanage up until then.
As is the custom of all Redguards, you were trained in combat from an early age. Your father had feared you would have magical talents, because of your Breton mother, however even by the age of 18, no arcane abilities had shown themselves.
One day, you had been exploring a ruin outside the city, when you had seen a large, glowing, blue stone sitting atop a large column. You shot it down with your bow, and when you picked it up, you felt a massive surge of power shoot through your body, your hands igniting into fire, but you could not feel the heat. You knew this was magic, and you loved the feeling. You soon had learned how to blast fireballs across the room, and eventually transform the fire into lightning, and then into ice, and eventually were able to use different spells in each hand.
After a week of practicing with these spells in secret, your hands suddenly stopped glowing, and you could not cast any more spells. You remembered the blue stones, and ventured deeper into the cave, and after searching the entire ruin, had found ten of the items. You stuffed the heavy stones in your pack, and carried them back to the city, excited to show your father your newfound abilities. As soon as you arrived home, you tossed a small fireball into an unlit torch on the wall, igniting the oil.
You had expected your father to be delighted, perhaps even a bit afraid, however, you had not expected the heavy-handed slap on the face and the hissing yell of “STOP THAT RIGHT NOW!”
This is when you had learned the race of Redguards had forbidden magical practices, and that while your father was not angry with you, he was terrified of what would happen if other members of the guard were to learn of it. Your father was understanding of your situation, had known it might happen because of your mother, but the Guard of Falkreath was heavy in the Yokudan race. He had paid for a carriage to transport you to the city of Riften, where the Acadamy of Mages was located. He had said you could live a normal life there.
How wrong he was. You had always believed using these stones to activate your magical abilities was normal among mages. This was, however, untrue. Upon speaking with a scholar at the Academy, you learned you had been born under the star sign of the Atronach. People of all races born during the month of the Atronach were cursed with the inability to regenerate their own Magika, making them ineffective mages, and normally shunned from the Mage’s Guild.
However, those born under the Atronach had an extraordinary ability to absorb any magic cast at them, and also have a higher amount of Magika inside of them, making them highly effective at combating rogue mages…or Necromancers. After learning you were alone here, the guild had made an exception for you, and had given up nearly their entire stock of Welkynd Stones for your training.
Now you were a Warlock, a very high rank within the guild, and, as proven during combat practice with other mages, were able to pack more brute power into your Destruction spells then even Master Mage Eliice.
The Arch Mage took a sip from a smoking vial on his desk, coughing after he did so. “Five days ago, an Apprentice was sent to deliver Soul Gems to the city’s spellshop. He arrived back here, hours late, badly beaten and near death. He would not have made it if it were not for Eliice’s knowledge of Restoration magic. Once he regained consciousness, he told Eliice that he had been attacked by a pack of Undead. No such creatures have been seen in these parts for many years. The apprentice is greatly skilled in Alteration magic, especially forming magical shields, and judging by the wounds on his body, the magic controlling the Undead bodies was extremely powerful…I fear a Necromancer has made his home in our city.”
He took another sip from the mysterious smoking vial. “I have informed the Count of Rifton, and the guards are making sure all citizens are remaining in their homes. Each street is being watched by many guardsmen, however ten of them were found dead within a day, and it has gotten much worse since then. I have also confined the apprentices to their quarters, and assigned scholars to guard each of their rooms. The Undead are drawn to high concentrations of Magika.”
He placed his hand on the smoking vial, and in a flash of purple light, it vanished from the table. “Today it seems as though your birthsign, which was always considered a curse to other mages, may be the only thing standing between this city’s destruction. While of only half-mage birth, you have more raw power then any other mage here, and unlike me, great knowledge of the combative arts.”
The Arch Mage coughed quietly into his hand before he continued speaking. “It saddens me that I have not yet been able to banish Necromancy from Skyrim, however I will not stand by as my students are attacked, nor citizens of this city. After the killing of guardsman, I have authority to bring down this Necromancer. I am very old. If you return alive, I will step down from the position of Arch Mage. When this happens, you will take my place.”
“WHAT?” Eliice shrieked from the corner of the room, jumping to her feet. “You would give the rank and responsibility of Arch Mage to this…this broken Mage!” Her hands begin to smoke, a look of the utmost rage on her tall face. “I have served you for ten years and you leave me by the roadside!” her hands ignited and she ran towards you, you draw your longsword, prepared to defend yourself-
“ENOUGH!” roared Alaro, standing, and with a wave of his hand, smashed his heavy desk between you and Eliice. He threw out his hand, and Eliice’s fists were encased in ice, and with another wave of his hand, she was lifted off the floor and pinned to a wall of the room.
The Arch Mage was so old, so small, that when he sat behind his desk, he looked as though he could die at any second. But now, standing tall and throwing around a large High Elf as though she were a rag doll, he was a terrifying man.
“I have allowed your abusive tendencies for years now, girl,” he hissed. “Burning Apprentices who fail to learn their assigned spell set, shocking students who do not listen to you. I have nothing against disciplining belligerent students, but when you attempt to KILL a Warlock inside of my own office, after a direct order I gave him, I will NOT tolerate it!”
He threw down his hand, smashing Eliice into the floor. “You are hereby demoted to the rank of Apprentice. Another ten years will hopefully teach you the way of the Mages. Now get out of my sight.”
Eliice silently vanished, leaving behind the purple light of a Teleportation spell.
Alaro dragged his desk back into place, taking a seat behind it. The old Breton was acting as though nothing had just happened. “You understand why you must be the one to carry out this task? The Undead are powerful, though they have no magic of their own. Most Mages are frail, and have no knowledge of armed combat.
Eventually their Magika would fall low, leaving them defenseless. While their Magika could slowly regenerate, they do not have enough to survive a horde of enemies. Between your sword and your unnatural amount of Magika, you are the only one here who can destroy this Necromancer.”
You kneel before the Arch Mage, and he stands and walks to a chest on the floor of his chamber. He opens it with a wave, and two Welkynd stones float out and into your hands. “These are the last of our Welkynd stones. Use them well. I am afraid I do not know of the Necromancer’s location. He should not be hard to find…just follow the Undead.” He dismisses you, and you step into the circle in the center of the room, where you are teleported back into the base of the tower.
You go to your room in the high-ranked Mage quarters, and strap on your set of leather armor. The building was completely empty, the other high-ranked Mages were guarding the apprentices inside of their quarters. You wondered how bad the issue must have been for this sort of security. You found out the second you pushed open the gate of the Academy.
The entire city was burning. Guards were running back and forth between houses, and the screams filled the air. Just from where you were, you could see over a hundred skeletons and zombies sweeping through the city. The Undead were simply bodies, animated by dark magic. You could slice off their limbs and even their heads, burn them, poison them, shock them, crush them. As long as there was anything left to move, they could not be killed.
You climbed the many stairs down into the city, your sword held in front of you. Almost immediately, three zombies lurch out of the shadows behind a building, one of them headless, and another missing an arm. You slash with your sword, opening deep gashes in the zombie’s flesh, but none of them slowed down. You did not want to waste your Magika, and you beat on the approaching Undead while avoiding their slow strikes, eventually slicing them into useless hunks of bone.
You slowly continued through the city, following the blood and bodies. You roll backwards, as a guard sprints out of an alley, being slashed at by four skeletons wielding crude iron axes. You kick one of the skeletons so hard it’s bones separate and It collapses in a motionless heap. You smash another of the skeletons with your blade, and rip apart the last two with your bare hands. Skeletons were so much easier to kill then zombies were.
The guard stands and dusts himself off. “Thanks for that stranger, those demons almost had me.”
You ask the guard if he had any idea where the Necromancer was hiding.
“Hiding? She hasn’t stopped talking! She’s risen all of the bodies in the city’s graveyard, and she’s controlling them from there. She’s not exactly being secretive about it either.”
So the Necromancer was a woman. It was unexpected, but it would not change anything. You carve your way through the city, cutting down dozens of bodies on the way. You eventually find yourself at the edge of Rifton’s graveyard. Many centuries of fallen guards and citizens were buried here, including counts and countesses, and many mages.
You stood on a high wall, and overlooked the graveyard. Almost all of the graves were upturned, but only about a dozen bodies shuffled around the grass; all the rest were attacking the city. You turn to your right and you see her, a figure in a long black robe standing in the very center of the graveyard, waving her hands as though she were a puppeteer. You drop off the high wall and roll, and sprint towards the figure.
As you got closer, you could here her, an insane, high-pitched voice piercing the air. “DESTROY EVERYTHING MY PETS! TEAR THEM LIMB FROM LIMB!” The voice sounded familiar to you, but it was so distorted by rage you could not tell from where.
You slow to a walk, cutting down a skeleton who lunged at you from behind a mausoleum. The Necromancer heard you and turned to face you.
“Yessssss,” she hissed, reaching up and throwing off her hood. You almost fell backwards, gasping in shock. It was Eliice. Her eyes were mad, her pupils drifting off in different directions. She let out a cackle, and then spat on the ground.
“I had this all planned out. Raise some bodies, cause some panic. When I was sent to stop it, I would make up a story of how I fought and killed the Necromancer. I would be made Arch Mage, and I would use that position to cover my actions as I slowly spread my minions throughout Skyrim.”
She lurched forward, moving as though she was being pushed by some invisible force. “BUT NO!” The old coward sends YOU! The broken mage, to stop ME! You, a Mage! What a joke!” she spat. “You do not even have your own Magika, you steal it from artifacts made by MY people, MY race! You don’t deserve to be called a Mage!”
She lifted her hands above her head, and you step back as twenty hands burst from the ground, clawing their way out of their graves. Ten headless zombies stood in a circle around you, but other then their missing heads, their bodies were remarkably intact.
“Do you know who these are? Many years before you arrived in this city, these people were my brothers and sisters in Necromancy. We were researching Immortality, and a guardsman had gotten killed for interfering with us. My clan had succeeded in making their bodies immortal, but this did not stop them from being beheaded by the city guard. With no brains to move them, their bodies lay here, unharmed. But now with my help, they will unknowingly aid me in destroying this city!”
She held out her arms, and beams of yellow light surrounded her body, and suddenly she was encased in dark red, demonic looking armor, and grasping a massive battleaxe of the same fashion. All ten of the zombies lunge towards you, and you roll backward, out of the circle of Undead.
You jump to your feet and slash at the oncoming zombies, but Eliice appears behind you in a blast of purple light, slashing at you with the massive axe. You easily avoid it, her swings were extremely slow and clumsy. She slashes at you again, and you duck under it, and her strike cleaves one of the zombies in two.
She howls in rage, and kicks out at you, catching you off guard. She brings the axe over her head and tries to drive it into your prone body, but you roll out of it’s path, and the axe lodges itself in the ground. You grasp the handle of the weapon, kicking upwards and wrenching it from her grip. You stand and swing the axe around, but it vanishes from your hands in less then a second.
You pick up your longsword, and just manage to dodge a blast of fire from Eliice. One of the headless zombies grabs you from behind, attempting to rip your arm off your body. You twist and slash the monster’s arm off, and take ten paces back. Nine of the zombies were still alive, and Eliice was standing behind them, both of her hands emitting bursts of lightning. You had no other choice.
You sheath your blade, holding both hands in front of you. They burst into flame, the familiar pleasant heat encasing your arms. You launch spell after spell into the oncoming crowds of Undead, dodging Eliice’s lightning. In her fit of rage her aim was extremely poor. You change the magical element in your left hand, spikes of ice encasing your fist, and you launch a long ice lance into the leg of an oncoming zombie. It collapses to the floor, unable to stand.
You feel your magical energy weakening, and using the last of your Magika, you form an ice barrier between you and the seven remaining zombies. You scramble with your pack, grasping one of the Welkynd stones. You feel your Magika growing stronger, as a zombie lunges around your ice barrier. You unsheath your blade, and sever both of the zombie’s arms in two powerful strokes. You kick it to the ground, where it squirmed around pathetically. Five minutes of fighting and casting, dodging Eliice’s spells, only her and one zombie remain.
You kick the zombie to the ground, and encase your hand in stone-hard ice, smashing your fist into the zombie’s spine, rendering it immobile. You see a glint in the corner of your eye, and you barely avoid an Ice Spike from Eliice.
You stand and face her, grasping the last of the Welkynd stones in your hand. You absorb it’s energy, and drop the empty rock to the grass.
“You are stronger than I am, faster than I am, and have more magical powers than I do. I will admit to all of those things. But at the end of it all, your magic will stop working, and you will be defenseless as I burn you to dust.”
She throws a fireball at you, and you deflect it with a shield spell. You slash at her with your sword, but it bounces pathetically off her heavy conjured armor. She throws you back with a Telekinesis spell, and follows up with a series of lightning bolts, two of which hit you in the chest. If you had been wearing metal armor you would have been dead, but the light leather had stopped any conduction.
You launch an Ice Spike at her, and it too is stopped in it’s tracks by her armor. You throw three shock spells at her, but she blocks them with a shield spell, throwing a large fireball towards you, which you dodge by a hair. It singed your arm, but did no real damage.
You hold out both hands, charging a massive Freeze spell, but jump back in pain as the ball of ice shatters and melts, and the ice surrounding your hands dissipates. You had no Magika left.
Eliice’s eyes open wide, and she walks towards you, letting out a mad laugh. “I told you this would happen! No guards have seen my face, and you will be dead, and no paperwork filing my demotion has been written yet. When I send my minions to kill the Arch Mage, I will take his place!”
She holds a hand in front of her, and fires a continuous stream of lighting into your body. You writhe on the ground in pain, feeling the burning of her spell. For ten seconds she shocks you, and you feel yourself slipping out of consciousness. And then it stops. You look up and see her empty hand smoking, and her armor had vanished. Her own Magika had run out.
You could feel it inside of you, the power of Magika. You must have somehow absorbed it from her attack. You could hardly breath, but you had to stand. She would regain her Magika soon. With one heavy breath, you launch yourself to your feet bringing up your right hand. Your most powerful ice spell blasts from the ground, encasing Eliice to the neck.
“NO! NOT ONLY DO YOU DEFILE MY PEOPLE BY STEALING THEIR OWN POWER, YOU STEAL MAGIKA FROM LIVING MAGES! I WILL SEE YOU BURN IN OBLIVION, I WILL PER-” She is interrupted as you smash your most powerful fire spell into her chest, the ice encasing her instantly melting, and she falls to the ground.
You feel your magical energy is low, but you should still have enough. You conjure a small bolt of lighting in both of your hands, and throw them into the puddle of melted ice surrounding Eliice. You can hardly watch as she is electrocuted, and she collapses to the floor, dead.
You look around, and you can see all of the zombies and skeletons still attacking the city falling to the ground motionless. You slowly make your way back to the Academy through the burning city.
The next day, you stand in front of fifty apprentices and twenty scholars of the Mage’s Guild. The Arch Mage stands before you, and hands you a long mage’s staff, forged from solid silver. He waves his hand, and long blue robes appear from nowhere and fall into your hands.
“I hereby officially step down from the position of Arch Mage. This man will take my place. I choose him for his unquestioning loyalty to the Mages Guild, and his unmatched power and skill. As long as he rules this Guild, no danger will fall on this Academy, and I trust he will be a greater Arch Mage then I ever was. This man should be proof to all of you, that if you never give up, and stand tall through any trial, you can become anything you choose to, no matter the forces stacked against you.”
He slowly makes his way off the podium, and you pull the Arch Mage robes over your head, and hold the staff out in front of you.
You bow to the apprentices-your apprentices.
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Sorry that was so long! I get really tied up in these sometimes. Hope you enjoyed it, and I’ll try to make my next few a bit faster paced- Aggro
