Word Wars: Race Against the Clock Part III









:sob::sob::sob: onegai?








Sounds good!


993 :blush:

13 Last Seed, 3E 411 Wayrest, High Rock

My dear Koniinge,

Please forgive the quality of the handwriting on this note, but I have not long to live. I can only reply in detail to one part of your letter, and that is that I fear Baliasir, contrary to what you’ve heard, is very much real. Had he been but a figment of the caretaker’s imagination, I would not be feeling life ebb from me as I write this.

Lady Moorling has sent for healers, but I know they won’t arrive in time. I just need to explain what happened so that you’ll understand, and then all my affairs in this world will be ended. The one advantage of my condition is that I must be brief, without my habitual ornamental descriptions of people and places. I know that you will appreciate that at least.

It started when I came to Wayrest, and through my friend Lady Moorling and her court connections was introduced to Baliasir himself. I had to proceed carefully, not wanting him to know of our designs on Azura’s Star which I presumed he possessed, given to him by his servant Hadwaf Neithwyr. His function in Queen Elysana’s court seemed to be decorative, like so many of her courtiers, and it was not hard to differentiate myself from the others when we began conversing on the school of mysticism. Many of the other hangers-on at the palace can speak eloquently on the subject of the magickal arts, but it seemed that only he and I had deep knowledge of the craft.

Many a nobleman or adventurer who aren’t mages by profession learn a spell or two from the useful schools of restoration or destruction. I told Baliasir quite truthfully that I had never learned any of that (oh, but I wish I knew some healing spells from the school of restoration now), but that I had developed some small skill in mysticism. Not enough to me a Psijic, of course, but in telekinesis, password, and spell reflection I had some amateur ability. He responded with compliments, which allowed me to segue into the topic of another spell of mysticism, the soul trap.
I told him I was unlearned but curious about that spell. Any very naturally and comfortably, I was able to bring up the subject of Azura’s Star, the endless well of souls.

Imagine how I had to hold back my excitement when he leaned in and whispered to me, “If that interests you, come to Klythic’s Cairn west of the city tomorrow night.”

I couldn’t sleep at all. The only thing I could think of was how I would get the Star when he showed it to me. I still knew so little of Baliasir, his past and his power, but the opportunity was too great to let it pass. Still, I held hopes that you would arrive, as you threatened you might in your letter, so I might have someone of physical strength to aid me in my adventure.

I am growing weaker and weaker as I write this, so I must proceed with the basic facts. I went to the crypt the following night, and Baliasir led me through the maze of it to the repository where he kept the Star. We were talking quite casually, and as you’ve so often said, it seemed an excellent time for an ambush. I grabbed the Star and unsheathed my blade in what I felt was amazing speed.

He turned to me and I suddenly felt like I was moving like a snail. In a flash, Baliasir changed his form and became his true self, not man or mer, but daedra. A colossal daedra lord who swiped back the Star from my grasp and laughed at my sword as it thudded against his impenetrable hide.

I knew I had been beaten, and I threw myself towards the corridor. A blue flash of energy coursed through me, flung by Baliasir’s claws. At once, I began to feel death. He could have smote me with a thousand spells, but he chose the one where I could lie down, and suffer, and hear him laugh. At the very least, I did not give him that pleasure.

Already struck, it was too late for me to cast a counterspell of mysticism, one to dispel the magicka, reflect it or absorb it as my own. But I did still know how to teleport myself, what mystics term ‘Recall’, to whatever place I’d last set a spiritual anchor. I confess that at the time, I didn’t remember where that would be. Perhaps in Bhoriane when I arrived in the Iliac Bay, or in Kambria, or in Grimtry Garden where I met the caretaker, or my hostess’s palace in Wayrest. I prayed that I had not set the anchor last when I was with you in Morrowind, for it said that if the distance was too great, one can be caught between dimensions. Still, I was willing to take that chance, rather than being the plaything of Baliasir.

I cast the spell and found myself back on the doorstep of Lady Moorling’s palace. To be out of the crypt and away from the daedra was a relief, but I had so hoped that I had been smart enough to cast an anchor near a Mages Guild or a temple where I could find a healer. Instead, knowing I was too weak to walk far, I beat on the door and was taken here, where I write this letter, lying in my bed.

As I wrote those words, dear Elysbetta, Lady Moorling, came in, quite tearfully and frantic, to tell me the healers should be here waiting but a few minutes. But I will be dead when they arrive. I know theses are my last wors. There frend, stay away from this cursd place.

Your Frend,


8 Sun’s Dawn, 3E 412 Amiglith, Summerset Isle




I leaned against an oak tree. “Why did you want me here, anyway?”

Cyan handed food to her customer. “After everything that’s happened, I can’t leave you by yourself. It’s not good for you to coop yourself up in the house. People need to go out sometimes.”

Cyan clearly thought I was a kid. It felt like she thought I was a needy little brother, too. I hated it. It was quite the role reversal. She didn’t even look older than me.

“I don’t want your help. Just don’t go home.”

This was stupid. How was this better than going in the backyard? What was the point if I wasn’t going to do anything?

Although, a nap was tempting. I hadn’t slept well the last several nights. It was like my mind refused to yield to my body. It was a pain, but I couldn’t do much about it.

Honey crawled into my lap and curled up into a ball.

Somehow, I’d managed to fall asleep, but I didn’t know for how long. I needed it more than I liked to admit. My body didn’t want to move, but that nap swept that feeling away.

I had to get up. I didn’t want to get stuck. A bathroom would’ve been nice, too, but that wasn’t exactly an easy thing to find in the middle of a park.

Cyan glanced back at me. “If you have to take care of business, go ahead. I trust you.” She turned on a grill. “If you don’t wanna take her, you can leave her here. No one’s gonna steal her.”

Cyan trusted me? How could she trust me? Why did she trust me?

When I first met her, I ran away from her. I hadn’t exactly been nice to her, either.

Honey nipped my pants.

I flicked her back. “Stop that!”

Cyan set a bowl down by her feet. It was coated with Honey. “Why don’t we have a little girl time?”

“Thanks…” A sigh escaped my lips and I left to find a bathroom.

It took nowhere as long as I expected it to. I passed by a playground on my way there. With the vibrant colors, it looked brand new. When I was done, I had to stop to admire it.

Two ladies were sitting on a bench. One seemingly sensed me standing behind them.

The blonde turned to me. “Long time, no see, stranger!”


This was the lady from that store…


You write Skyrim fanfiction? I love that game. (Sorry, just randomly butting in here)


Yes I do! If you want to read them there’s a link in my profile :blush:


I hate my mind…


I might check it out.




I worry the chap is going down the toilet…


If you don’t like it just restart it


the new content is hard enough…


anyone want to war?