User blog:DB Baxter/The Madman's Verse - Goriyn Mortis

Goriyn Mortis was a man of simple tastes.

The common folk of Cyrodil would contend that statement, but their petty complaints had never really bothered him. He was having fun, and that was all that really mattered.

Right now he was mulling over a newspaper that had been delivered to him just this morning. The headline read, in an obnoxious font, “Battlemage pardoned! Put back on the Mortis case!”

“Now that’s pretty funny,” Goriyn chuckled to himself. “D’you hear that, Bucky? They pulled ol’ Dally out of prison just to find me!”

Bucky, unfortunately, had not heard that news. For you see, he was dead, and currently hanging in a noose by Goriyn’s makeshift throne.

“Oh… right…” Goriyn sighed. It was a damn shame, too. He really liked Bucky. “Ah, well… I guess they’ll be here sooner or later,” He figured. He rose from his seat, tucking the newspaper under his armpit. “Time to organize the party.”



<p class="MsoNormal" style="border-width:initial;border-style:none;padding:0in;"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:107%;font-family:"Helvetica",sans-serif"> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">In the courtyard, Jarak and Hjalmar were in the third round of their fight. Of course, it was only because Jarak allowed for it. If he were to simply walk out and try, the fights would be far too short for his liking. He would deliver some rough thrashings, but he never really threw the finishing blow until he was bored.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">Hjalmar wandered forward on unsteady legs, his defenses all but obliterated. He had hopes that me might be the one to knock Jarak down, but that would not be the case. Once he was close enough, the Orc launched his fist into the Nord’s jaw. And that was the end of the scrap.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">The crowd watching the fight went wild as Jarak played it up. He picked up the unconscious Nord by his neck, with only one arm needed, and tossed him away like a rotten meal. In a sense, he was a rotten meal. Everyone who stepped up to Jarak was.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">The cheering proceeded until Goriyn stepped out onto the balcony that overlooked the courtyard. One man took notice, and tried to get everyone to hush. Quickly, the crowd fell silent and turned their attention to the Dunmer.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">With a grin on his face, he announced. “Alright, alright, how are you guys doing? Doing well?”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">A few answered with a loud or quiet “Yeah!”. Most were silent.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">“Good, good. Well, I’m afraid the parties getting a little too loud for a few of our neighbors. Specifically, our neighbors down in the Imperial City.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">That collected a few boos. “Don’t worry, though, they’re desperate. So desperate that they’ve resorted to dragging ol’ Dally himself out of prison to hunt us down!”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">Another chorus of boos. “He’s a smart mage, though. My guess is that we’ll have 2 weeks maximum before the old bloodhound sniffs us out. So I want you all at your posts, I want your weapons hair-splitting, and I want every inch of this place covered. You got me?” <p class="MsoNormal" style="border-width:initial;border-style:none;padding:0in;"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:107%;font-family:"Helvetica",sans-serif">They cried out “Yes sir!” or “Yeah!” or just saluted. “Good! Now, get moving! Jarak, get your ass up here! We’ve got some planning to do!”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="border-width:initial;border-style:none;padding:0in;">--

<p class="MsoNormal" style="border-width:initial;border-style:none;padding:0in;"><span style="font-family:Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:10pt;">“Do you think that the men will be able to hold Dalacon and Hafnir?” Jarak asked as they walked up a long flight of stairs. <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">“Oh, divines no!” Goriyn exclaimed, smiling that ever-crooked smile. “They’ll chew ‘em up and spit ‘em out.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">“Then you have a plan?”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">“I’m offended that you’d think I wouldn’t have one!” The Dark Elf laughed. “There’s always a plan, Jarak. For better or worse, I’ll always have a plan.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">Jarak arched an eyebrow. He had only worked under Goriyn for about a month now, and he had risen through the ranks quickly. Goriyn saw the potential for a new Captain. He was strong, stronger than most, and he wasn’t too dumb. In fact, Goriyn first met Jarak when the Orc showed up one night after having broken out of another Imperial prison. Killed a lot of guards on the way out.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">The Orc had a lot to learn, though.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">At the top of the stairs, they entered a room. There was a single window that allowed for one to overlook the entire fortress and the land beyond. Posted all over the walls and tables were maps, lists of names, building schematics, and so on. All of them had crude arrows and notes that appeared more as mad ramblings scribbled on them.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">They weren’t alone in that room. There was a Nord dressed in scratched and dinged up Nordic armor, and a massive battleaxe on his back, overlooking a map. Two other men, a Bosmer and a Redguard by the looks of it, were looking out the window and at the people shuffling about outside.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">“I guess you saw the paper?” The Nord asked.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">“Indeed I did, Borskar.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">“Then what’s the plan?”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">“First things first, we’re going to need to get one of our Roustabouts down here,” He said, which drew a sigh out of the Redguard over by the window.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">“We don’t need those freaks,” He said. “I could kill them both.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">“You underestimate them, Razor,” Goriyn shook his head. “Besides, Roustabouts, for all their strength and entertainment, are replaceable. They die, and the plan goes on. Now, if you die… well, that wouldn’t be funny.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">Razor grunted.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">“Now, gather ‘round, kiddies, Uncle Goriyn has a plan to put forward.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">The occupants of the room gathered. Goriyn reached into a drawer and pulled out a vial filled with a black liquid. “I know a few of you are worried that we’re not going anywhere with this movement. Senseless murder and illogical raids is what you see, right?”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">None of them answered. “Well, think of that as the appetizer. The first move of chess, nothing but shuffling the pawn forward a space or two. It’s not much, but it fills the opposition with a sense of dread. Makes them and their allies doubt, makes the people afraid, you see?”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">Jarak nodded. “Now, we’ll be striking harder. And it starts here with this little itty bitty glass. This here, is our trump card. An unstoppable force of nature, a monster of monsters, the apocalypse incarnate. All. Right. Here.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">Eyebrows were arched in confusion. “I know that’s vague, but in time, you’ll see. I haven’t let you boys down yet, have I?”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">That much was true. If there was one thing that Goriyn never did, it was fail on one of his promises. He said it, and he did it. It was as simple as that.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">“I’ve only just received it. And now that I have it, we’re going to head out and get more. A lot, lot more…”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">With that said, he reached into the drawer for another item. “And when we get more?” Razor asked the question.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">Goriyn pulled out of the drawer a mask. It was the bottom half of a skull, coated a color of midnight black. Painted across the large black teeth, was a crimson smile.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif">He slipped on the mask. “Then, we have a party. A grand party that’ll tear the house down.”