User blog:Psychomantis108/The Fall of the Aubeanic Reign (The unused chapters): Chapter IV - The Chosen (Part 2)

In order to save myself from carpal tunnel syndrome, I slit this chapter into two parts! Part 1 is here: http://tes-sandbox.wikia.com/wiki/User_blog:Psychomantis108/The_Fall_of_the_Aubeanic_Reign_%28The_unused_chapters%29:_Chapter_IV_-_The_Chosen_%28Part_1%29

The Dread Captain slowly opened the door, listening to the loud, pained creak of the hinges as he did so. The wooden slab, that resembled a door, moved aside and revealed the study inside. The study was a dark room, dimly lit by a few melted candles that had gone yellow due to their age and lack of use.

The room was incredibly cluttered, something that Landyt would normally forebode but Mavrik seemed to get a free pass as telling the mad bastard to clean up would be a waste of time.

Besides, this way something might slide off a shelf and hit the old coot on the head, which would be a massive stroke of luck. Sadly, none of the princes or the nine divines have ever granted him this small mercy.

He stepped into the Fallen Wizard's room and sought him out, finding it difficult to locate him, due to the poor lighting. The study wasn't all that furnished, it had a chair and a bureau and several desks, which pretty much served as counter tops. All work services had long since been buried under a huge mound of papers and books.

Landyt pushed his way to the center of the room, brushing past the stacks as he made his way inside.

"Mavrik!?" He called out, in an authoritative growl, growing tired of playing hide and seek with him.

There was a sound of hurried footsteps, in response as Mavrik emerged from the washroom.

"Ma-Master?" The jittery, old, Bosmer asked as he stepped out of the dark, revealing his ancient, hollow face, large purple rings in his eye sockets, a heavily blistered lip, with several pox marks around the mouth and several creases on his forehead, going over his wrinkled, bald head. The most disturbing part about his appearance was the fact that his skull was open, the top of his cranium flapped on the top of his head, like an open treasure chest. If it was a chest of some sort, then it would be keeping little more than an old, shrivelled lump of brain matter inside, which was badly damaged, due to exposure.

According to his ramblings, he is one of the 'risen,' a Fallen, who was resurrected by Landyt's corruption. Few risen remember their resurrection and those who do are driven mad by it. Mavrik had been dead for centuries before he was resurrected. According to him, he was a well respected scholar of the Mages' Guild but this was some time ago, back when the College of Winterhold was part of the guild. If he wasn't so powerful, Landyt would have let him be arch mage there but sadly he was too vital...

Also, embarrassing...

It hasn't been tested but some say that he matches the power of Aratius Morgan or Dufont...

Of course, that rumour was started by Landyt himself, just to strike some fear into Tiberionus, which wouldn't a difficult task, due to the fact that he is probably afraid of his own shadow.

"What can I do for you, Master?" His trembling voice asked, shattering Landyt's trail of thought, like a wrecking ball against glass.

"I'm not your Master..." The Pirate Captain seethed, folding his arms and staring Mavrik in the face.

"You said you had news for me?"

"I did?" The Old Mage asked, running his hand over his unhinged cranium and scratching it as he tried to recall.

"O-Oh yeah! Markarth!"

The Bosmer hastily shuffled over to his desk, where he found some of his notes before turning back to his 'master' and shuffling over to him.

He handed Landyt the stack of papers, which he immediately ignored, looking to Mavrik for a summary. Landyt often pretended that he couldn't read, a tightly kept secret that was only known by Melisa, his right hand. She didn't find out until his previous right hand, Morales, let it slip and got himself beaten to death before her very eyes. It would have made more sense to kill her, to contain the secret but Melisa was innocent of any wrongdoing or failure and it wouldn't have been right for her to die, because of Morales' fuck up, Landyt didn't suffer fools but he wasn't completely unthinking or heartless.

"M-My sight's gone..." The Bosmer mumbled, tapping the vacant eye socket, on his left. This confused Landyt, as Mavrik gave up his eye and bound it to the Fallen of Skyrim. If he concentrated, he could see through the eyes of any Fallen or Risen in Skyrim.

"What do you mean? You talkin' your right eye or you left?"

"Neither, I'm talking Markarth, every Fallen has..." The Bosmer cut out, into an unintelligible mumble as he zoned out, staring into space.

"..."

"Mavrik?"

"..."

"Mavrik!?"

"... Yeah? ..."

"MAVRIK!?"

This got the old man to jump, making his open skull cap fly open before slamming back down again, he rubbed at it furiously. Everything came back to him as he looked around, several hundred years worth of history catching up with him. He slowly turned back, realising that he blanked out, mid setance again...

"I... I'm sorry captain, I must've..."

"Enough! What's happening to my people!?"

"R-Right... Well... You see, I've... I... Seem to have lost contact."

Landyt stepped forward, giving Mavrik his usual, psychotic, unbalanced stare. This wasn't exactly making him feel any better...

"They... Seem to be asleep. I'm not sure what's going on or how it happened but they're all asleep."

"Then wake 'em..."

"I'd... We'd have to go down there and revive them but..."

"Bu-ut?"

"From what I can tell, we're going to need protection as I'm sure that the same thing will happen to us."

Landyt nodded, trusting Mavrik's judgement, he knew that Landyt didn't tolerate people pissing him about, unnecessarily.

"And I'll need a crew member, to use as a test subject."

The Nord nodded, heading towards the door, not even bothering to ask as he knew where to go.

Landyt marched up to the top deck, appearing behind the helmsman, like a spectre.

"Set course for Winterhold..."

"Aye aye, Sir!"

