Through the Gates
 

This is a fanfiction based on the game The Elder Scrolls IV; Oblivion. It is a collab between myself an Abunai Bijin, it only ever reached a few posts (we wrote it in a forum board) and now I'm posting it here in an effort to revive it, maybe some feedback would help!

Chapter One, The beginning. (I'm not going to call each chapter after this, I'm just going to post them)

Raijirri Monsef stirred on her "bed" which consisted of some straw on a stone slab. She sat up and bit her lip as she stretched her aching muscles, the sleeves of her shirt riding up and displaying a long ornate tattoo. She quickly tugged down her sleeves and stood.

Pain screamed up her stiff legs and she grabbed onto the stone walls to keep from doubling over. The ragged sackcloth encasing her legs were torn, revealing welts where she'd been beaten when she was interrogated, the shackles that had been placed on her ankles had left ugly, bloody wounds and these had been washed and bound with more rough sackcloth to cause her greater discomfort.

She walked about the cell to ease the pain, and as she neared the barred door the dark elf in the cell across moved forward and spoke with a leer.

"Well, you're a pretty one, aren't you? What are you in for, harlotry?"

Jirri ignored him and turned her back to him, but there was no way to escape his words in the small cell.

"Have the guards bestowed their . . . favors upon you yet? No matter, they soon will. Unless . . . "

His eyes lit up as her surveyed her, mentally undressing her. She felt his gaze and turned to face him with a glare.

"I could ask the guards to transfer you to my cell . . . I'd protect you . . . for a small fee."

He grinned wolfishly and Jirri was enraged. She resisted both urges to spit or fry his ass with a well-cast fireball and instead she smiled mockingly.

"I doubt you could afford my price, and even if you could, I'd rather swim through a school of slaughterfish. Enwah!"

The dark elf growled with anger and flung his water pot against the iron bars, serving only to shatter it into a thousand pieces. The sound of a door opening caused him to calm instantly.

"You hear that? The guards are coming. They're coming for you, that's right OUTCAST, you're going to DIE in here."

Jirri's mind reeled. Die? She glanced around her small cell. It was roughly 5'-8' with three stone walls, the fourth being made of iron bars. A small window was lodged in the far wall, but it was small and let in little light. There was a torch near the door, beyond the bars, but the light was dim and most of the room was cast in deep shadows. A stone slab protruded from the left wall and shackles of various lengths dangled from the ceiling above it. There was a tiny wooden table and a chair on the right wall with a clay pitcher and cup on top. Both empty. There were bones in the corner. A rib cage, a skull, spinal disks . . . She'd thrown them there when she'd first been given this cell. She shuddered. She did not want to die in here.

A sudden thought gave her pause and she brushed her fingers against the tattoo on her forehead. He'd called her an outcast, recognized her tattoos, the brand that her clan of mystic elves used when banishments took place. She'd been banished from her clan as soon as she'd come of age at 13, the tattoos at first painful, and now a constant reminder of the shame she'd endured for her mothers indiscretions. How did he, a dark elf, an outsider know her clan’s ceremonial markings? He must have gotten around. Damned dark elf.

A loud clang caused her to jump and whirl around. Her cell door was open and the captain of the guards motioned for her to come. Her heart sank. They had indeed come for her. She went to the doorway where he was standing, and only then did he speak.

"Prisoner Raijirri Monsef. You have been ordered to appear before Magistrate Marcus Andorran for a review of your case."

She looked up at him.

"Magistrate Andorran? Who?"

"Please, save your questions for him."

He motioned for her to follow, and she obeyed, ignoring the lewd comments of the dark elf. The captain, however, did NOT ignore him, instead he slammed his shield against the cell door where the dark elf’s face had been.

"Shut up, pig."

Jirri hid her grin and followed the captain into the receiving room, pausing only slightly when he stood at attention. The large room was black as pitch with the exception of the glow cast by a four branched candelabra on the huge oak desk. As her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, she noted the outline of several doorways much like the one she'd just come through, and one HUGE doorway, the two story doors intimidating and heavy looking. The magistrate was already seated behind the desk, a scroll open in front of him. He glanced at her, and then looked down at the scroll.

"Prisoner Raijirri Monsef."

She nodded.

"Well, I must say that you're not exactly what I expected. I und-"

"If you please sir."

She interrupted.

"What happened to Magistrate Thorn? I've only been in prison for . . . "

She paused, not sure how to continue. In all actuality she had no IDEA how long she'd been in this forsaken place, every day waking in pain every day being insulted anew by the dark elf bastard, every DAY living in darkness.

"7 Months, 14 days, 6 hours, and 24 minutes."

The magistrate supplied.

"Far too long for a woman with no criminal record and no official charges. Magistrate Thorn has been removed from office and executed for his crimes against the empire.

"We have since discovered that he has put several people into prison at will, with no charges brought or pressed. We have been reviewing each case and today is your lucky day. Would you care to tell us the truth as to your sentence?"

Jirri swallowed and gaped, still trying to absorb the situation and shook her head to clear her thoughts.

"Truth? I... I insulted him."

The magistrate nodded, as if he'd been expecting this hugely shortened version of the event, and didn't care. He did not press the matter.

"I understand. Raijirri Monsef; your case has been reviewed and found lacking in sufficient grounds or evidence. You are free to go."

He motioned to the captain who turned to her and handed her a small roll of papers. The magistrate spoke again.

"Miss Monsef, this is a writ of purchase for the local clothiers. Get yourself some new garments. Also included is a writ of release for all property and items that were taken from you upon imprisonment. There is one other, personal matter I wish to discuss with you.

"Captain, you may go."

Jirri noted that the magistrate waited until the captain had saluted and gone, shutting the heavy doors behind him, before he turned to her again.

"I understand that in your life before prison you were very skilled at . . . procuring certain items, shall we say . . . "

"I was never charged, you have no proof."

Raijirri spouted, defensively.

"Now now,"

The magistrate took a soothing tone.

"Remember, this os no longer official business, this is just a chat between peers.

"Now, here's my proposition. I am A.. Collector of fine and rare items and several items about the city have come to my attention. I would like very much to own these items and would pay you very highly if they could be acquired for me, no questions asked."

He curled his hands together and smiled as she cocked her head to the side, considering, her lips curling up in reply.

"No questions asked hmm? Alright, Mr. Magistrate, you have yourself a deal. Just consider me your personal 'procurer'."

"Excellent! We have an accord then."

He stood and motioned her to the huge oak doors at the other end of the room.

"Freedom awaits."

Raijirri forced herself to maintain a walk, and not run as she headed toward the exit and leaned into the heavy doors as they slowly opened, letting pure, bright sunlight stream into the room. She squinted and blinked, shading her eyes with her hand and taking a deep breath of fresh crisp air.

She was finally free.

(By Abunai Bijin)


The moon glinted off the flawless surface of the crystal clear lake as Lucas Thorn knelt by it, trailing his calloused fingers in the cool refreshing water. His steed, a strong young black stallion from the stables of Cheydinhal whinnied softly with contentment as it chewed the soft green grass that grew wild around the oasis.

"Well boy, it looks like we'll finally get to rest for the night, you’d better get a good night's sleep before tomorrow. We'll be riding hard to make it to Chorral by nightfall." The Redguard talked to his mount as he busily set up his camp, sweat on his bare ebony back glistening in the light cast from the campfire.

Finished with his tent he pulled the small clay pitcher from his saddle bags and dipped it into the crystal water, bringing it up and pouring it into his thick, long black hair, and then refilled the bucket and set it to boil by the fire and settled onto his bedroll.

Silence fell over the camp, broken only by the occasional mutter from his horse and the incessant chirping of crickets and Lucas relaxed and laid back, feeling the stillness wash over him in a soothing wave. Stars twinkled overhead and the second moon was exceptionally large tonight he noticed; the harvest season was near.

Lethargy quickly overtook him and sensations of sleep clouded his mind, and he was soon sleeping deeply, dreamlessly.

Sleep did not last long however, and as the dawn peeked over the horizon he felt consciousness return suddenly, as a presence nearby him alerted his senses, and his body tensed as he concentrated on the presence. The snarl of a hungry animal and the frantic shriek from his horse told him all he needed to know and he lunged from his bed, finding himself face to face with the creature; a huge grizzly native to the area.

Lucas was no wilting flower, but even for his six-foot-three brick-wall build, he was still no match for the hungry beast as it flung him backward with a sweep of a massive paw, enraged at his interruption of its hunt. Red blood trickled down his bare chest where the bears claws had hit, and pain clouded his senses as he dropped and crouched in front of the bear, keeping his icy blue eyes trained on the beast while feeling for one of his weapons, any of them.

He found one. He drew his hand to him, giving the weapon a quick glance, and then grunted with irritation. An arrow, a single arrow, no bow, just the ammunition for one. He was dead; his horse had fled, he was defenseless without a weapon, and the beast was definitely out for his blood.

And now he was backed into a tree. He pressed his back to the wood; he was no climber, but if worse came to worse, the bear wouldn't be able to follow him up. He was sure that someone would find and help him up there. Eventually. The giant bear snarled and stepped forward, thick drool dripping from yellow, dangerously bared teeth, the pink tongue lapping over it's black nose with anticipation of ripping Lucas to shreds, and he had resigned himself to his fate when the incredible happened.

The shrill whinny of an enrage horse pierced his eardrums as his mount jumped at the bear, hooves connecting painfully with its skull, and he watched in utter amazement as the steed continued its beating with powerful kicks from strong hind legs. The bear howled in pain and rage and turned on the horse, giving Lucas enough time to act.

Quickly he darted forward and snatched his silver bow from the ground where it lay, placing the arrow on the string and aiming, carefully but quickly, letting the shot fly almost as quickly as it had been drawn. The arrow hit its mark silently, slicing into the heart of the beast as it reared to its hind legs, ready to strike.

The attack was never completed as the animal staggered slightly and the horse jumped forward out of reach as the beast fell.

Lucas grimaced, sorry for the animal, but more sorry that he hadn't the time at the preset to skin the beast. It would have fed many people, and the furs would fetch a nice price in Chorral, but it was not to be. The mercenary instead dragged the creature away from his belongings and began to pack up camp, stopping to stroke his horse and feed it a little treat, rubbing his nose gently.. Some wolves would find the carcass soon enough, and he had too much work to do, including riding well through the day.

He was starting earlier than he had planned, but it seemed better this way anyways.

"Good boy..." he murmured into the downy soft hair of the muscle bound neck of the horse.

"Good Latiano. By the gods you were a good deal. Even at ten thousand Septims."

Raijirri squinted as she removed the hand that was shading her eyes as they slowly adjusted to the brightness outside. The air was chilly, with a cool breeze that fluttered her hair every minute or so, but the sun was warm and the grass green. Wildflowers grew around the edges of the short bridge that seperated the prison from the north gate of the imperial city, and a butterfly flittered past. Raijirri tried to catch it as it landed on the rail of the bridge, but her relfexes were not what they should be after months in prison, and the butterfly flew away.

She shrugged, rolling her shoulders and massaging her neck relishing the peaceful silence for a moment, and then started to walk, slowely at first but gaining speed as she went, toward the large city gates.

Once inside the city she stopped again, aware of the looks the guards were giving her. She self conciously tugged at the sleeves of her sackcloth shirt again and looked around, taking in the noisy hustle and bustle of the city. Where was this? She looked around and saw a plaque on the wall near the guard station declaring this to be the "Market district". She looked at the writs that she still held clutched in her hand and decided that she'd see the clothier first before picking up her belongings from the city's Office of the watch. She looked around, getting her bearings of the district and headed west, toward the clothiers shop, or at least where she thought it was.

The district was well traveled and full of people, all on foot as horses were forbidden inside the city gates, and she was feeling extremely self concious by the time she reached the door of the clothing shop. She stood back and gave the name board above the shop a cursory glance. The sign read.
"Devine Elegance"
and had a picture of a flowey dress and a regal suit dancing on it. Great. Just what she needed. She sighed and entered the shop.

As soon as she entered a woman dressed in a red dress made completey of velvet came bustling forward.

"What can I do for you today? Would you like to see our selection of ball gowns? Perhaps you would be interested in a silke- Oh..."

She broke off her sales spiel as she noticed the thick scratchy sackloth and worn shoes and gave Raijirri a disgusted look.

"'Jensine's "Good as new" merchandise' is in the east section dear, I'm sure she'll give you a nice discount on much more suitable clothing..."

She smiled in a patronizing way that made Raijirri bristle, but grin back in a sweet and innocent way.

"Why thank you for the suggestion but I've just been released from prison on basis of flasified charges and I recieved this writ of purchase for your store. I do believe that means that you have to cooperate with me, doesn't it?"

Her grin was sweet, but her eyes were full of venom as she viewed this pretentious snob of a woman, who glared daggers right back at her. The woman sniffed with disdain and took the writ.

"Of course. You realize that this writ has a set price, so you won't be able to buy just ANYTHING. I'll show you your selection. I have a collection of sateens and velours here, they're not as pricey or high quality as the silks and satins, but I'm sure they'll suit your immediate needs."

Raijirri tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace and she quickly rearranged her face to be impassive, glad that the saleswoman hadn't been facing her at the time. She looked at the clothes layed out and selected a skirt, blouse, and pair of ankle length boots.
The saleswoman raised her eyebrows in a suprised, almost approving look and nodded toward the dressing area.

Raijirri stepped inside the curtained alcove and stripped down her her underwear. She then viewed herself in the floorlength mirror that leaned against the far wall.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v5...jirritats2.jpg

Raijirri was of medium height, being 5'5 inches when she was barefoot. She wieghed 127 lbs normally, but the prison had made her almost immaciated weighing at aroun 98 lbs. She had long legs and a petit torso, which sometimes made dressing a pain, and swirling thread-like tatoos curled around her left arm and right leg, and a v-shaped design reached up from the bridge of her nose to above her eyebrows. Her skin was pale, almost white, but it had a slight pinkish glow, and a layer of fur so fine it was like peach fuzz covered her entire body. Her eyes were yellow and the pupils were slightly deformed, long, thin cats eyes, and her hair was thick and soft and it grew long, well down to her waist. She often had it in a pony tail, but since she had come here just out of prison it now hang down to her backside in long tangled and dirty locks. She needed to get some money, find a hotel and take a bath, desperately. Her ears, which were typicall long and thin also had fur tufts at the end which irritated her to no end. Her hands were long and slender, but the palms were rough and the nails grew quickly and were often long and very sharp. She sighed. and began to pull on the clothing she had selected, sufficiently hiding her half-Kahjiit heritage. She'd been banished for her impure bloodline and her mother's indescretion and the tatoos were not the only reminder that she faced daily.

She dressed and gathered together her sackloth garments, which she brought out of the room with her. The saleswoman nodded.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v5...lothes_300.jpg

" A perfect fit. You almost look lovely."

She sneered but the expression soon turned into distaste and Raijirri handed her the filthy sackcloth and said

"Do something with that, would you?"

Raijirri hid her smirk as she turned and left the woman holding the dirty ragged clothing and glanced back just to see her throw them into a wastebasket marked "to be burned" She held her laughter in until she was outside the shop.

(Again by Abunai Bijin. After this she'll post her own if she so desires, but I had to go into previous posts on a different forum to find these.)


He was irritated, though he was more irritated at himself for being irritated than he was at his horse for causing this delay. It was funny how a Grizzly bear had not even caused a scratch on the animal, but a small pebble in the road was his downfall.

He stood now outside the huge gates of the Imperial city waiting for the door to the stable keeper's house to open so that he could negotiate a re-shoeing, and was vaguely more irritated when the door opened to reveal a smelly, angrily hungover and already somewhat tipsy Orcish woman. Lucas didn't usually mind associating with Orcs, but he did mind this one.

"Ah Snak Gra-bura, I thought you'd be in prison by now. Fancy seeing you here. I had wanted someone to take care of my horse, but seeing you, I think I'd better take my chances-"

"Thorn. I always thought that YOU'D be first in prison, and fancy that, I was right. Do you still have the mark?"

She made a grab at his left hand, and he jerked back out of the brute's grasp.

Lucas had since dawn donned his armor, light chain-mail and leather suitable for his skill as a bowman, but he wore at his side a fine Ebony dagger, royally sheathed in a way that was quite unique; very few people of Cyrodiil had ever lived to see and tell of such a blade. Lucas also wore gauntlets, though fully covering only his left hand, his right having only the middle and first fingers covered as well as the thumb as needed to protect himself from injury by bowstring.

"Still hiding the truth, eh Lucas?"

The barbaric woman smirked ruthlessly, showing no fear in her expression, but he could see it in her eyes behind the layers of cruel mirth. He spoke no more of prison, but guided the conversation back to his horse with a rude comment.

"As I was saying Snak, I would leave my horse here, but he's a fine steed and I've no intention of allowing him to become your next meal."

The Orc feigned hurt, her expression behind her yellow eyes becoming crafty.

"I would never eat a horse, such a deliciously majestic creature. I'm quite sure that it was my assistant that-"

"I'm sure imperials have not the taste for horseflesh, nor do Redguards, in fact I'm sure that it is Orcs that are the only race that will eat anything."

Snak snarled and grasped the collar of his armor, halting abruptly as his hand went to the blade at his waist, and then she released him, her lips curling up into a grin.

"I will board your horse for a discount Thorn, and I will make sure that the smith takes a look at his shoe."

Her expression grew quite serious, almost frightened, and she hissed through her teeth, almost pleading with him.

"Don't hurt me Lucas. I have no desire to die today. The Hand needs not haunt my dreams, eh?"

Lucas slowly released the blade and stepped away from her, reaching for the reigns of his mount.

"I'm not longer associated with The Hand Gra-bura. You need not be afraid of them, but myself on the other hand... perhaps you should fear me."