Well, I hope everyone enjoys the final chapter of my first fanfic. Sorry it took a while to get this one up. Many things happen in this finale.
Two fighters sat, chatting jovially at a long, wooden table. They exchanged stories of mighty battles and unparalleled quests as they took a few drinks of brandy.
"A pity Iterdel couldn't come," said Valdor with a sigh. "I am certain he would be interested in seeing it.
"I don't know about this amulet you keep talking about," commented Olaf, "but that daedric sword? Now that is worth a pretty penny. Many a warrior strong would pay dearly for it. How again did you defeat that Khajiit?"
So the conversation continued, eventually leading to Valdor's revelation of his latest findings. The raider had come to trust the old Nord since their adventure in Pulk.
"And you'd prefer to keep all of this? You do not intend to sell it?"
Valdor replied, "Of course not. I have enough gold to keep me on my feet. This is simply my… hobby."
"It was nice visiting, but I can't stay here all night. We may meet again in Vos," said Olaf, ready to go.
"Until then," responded Valdor as the warrior walked out the door.
On the way back to Vos, Olaf was trying to think of what work he could find for the following day. He hadn't any decent pay since the Pulk job, and was clearly running out of septims. Too embarrassed to ask Valdor for a loan, he thought he might find someone in need at the bar.
His chain of thought was immediately disrupted by a remote cloaked figure. The figure was moving on a hill, the way Olaf had come. The figure didn't seem to notice Olaf, and continued on his way.
Back at Valdor's estate, the raider had been cleaning his new sword. He admired the daedric style, and thought of its power and age. The night was quiet as he wiped the blade spotless. So quiet he could here a bow being readied newar the window.
Quickly he leapt backwards as he saw the projectile fly by his face, readying the sword and dashing to the window. There was a large "thunk" noise, and as the cloaked figure fell to the ground, Valdor plunged his sword into his armor, and through the heart. The minutes of work Valdor had dedicated to giving the blade a spotless shine were all for naught. The raider was a bit shocked to find Olaf outside behind the fallen being.
"Olaf! What are you doing back here?" harshly questioned Valdor.
"I saw him approaching your place and followed him," replied Olaf.
"Well, thanks for the support, but you were a little late."
Olaf lifted the corpse and removed the cloak. Under the hood was none other than the face of Marcus Alura. "By the Tribunal, what is this?" exclaimed a horrified Olaf. Tied to the waist of the Imperial was a note.
Dear Valdor,
I was quite certain this one wouldn't give you any trouble. Not after you had taken care of Bladehand and Nemaya. I simply needed an easy vessel for this letter. Now, if you wouldn't mind, meet me on the island south of Tel Mora. By the daedric ruin, you should find my tower. Pay me a visit. If you wish to bring a few friends along, that is fine. But don't bother asking the Legion for help. Just look at the corpse lying at your feet.
I am eager to see you,
Drek
"How did he hire Alura to do this?" spoke the very confused raider. "Alura was a friend. Something isn't right here… I must go to see Drek."
"Are you sure that is a good idea?" "There aren't many other options. We can't ask the Legion, or we'd have to explain him." Valdor pointed to the deceased captain.
"Then I'm coming with you," declared Olaf. "That really isn't necessary. You don't need to get involved in this."
"But I've helped you before, and I will help you again." "Fine, but remember this is your choice, not mine." The raider armed himself in chitin, took the daedric sword, the dagger, and Drek's amulet. They then left for Vos, intending to find a ship to take them to the isle south of Tel Mora. Something however, seemed to be following them. Valdor had been hearing distant, yet somehow familiar noises…
They had no trouble finding the tower. It was large, and of an imperial design, contrasting with the Telvanni influence of the region (except for Wolverine Hall of course). Valdor sensed Drek would be residing in the uppermost level through a surge of mysticism, a very rare occurrence for the raider.
They entered the large door at its base to find a large room that appeared to be a dining hall. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Right of the entrance was a stairwell. The location seemed almost inviting. Valdor and his friend began climbing to the top of the tower. After a long climb, the stairwell came to an end, and a large room appeared that sharply contrasted with the rest of the tower by its daedric architecture.
Directly across the room from the raider sat an armored figure on a tall throne. The armor appeared to be a mix of strong tempered imperial steel and daedric. It appeared to be eloquent, yet hard.
A loud, thundering voice echoed "Wecome to my lair. Your presence has been requested due to your power, bravery, and masterful skill. You have slain my best men. You have proved they were weak, unfit for servitude. I hereby propose you join me, and together we shall come to power in this land once more. There is but one more thing you must do to prove yourself."
Drek pointed his steel finger at Olaf. "Olaf the Proud has seen far too much. His death is imminent to our secret plans." Both Valdor and Olaf gasped at this demand.
"But he is strong as well! Why don't we both join you, and become even more powerful?"
"This test is for you, Valdor. It will prove that you have what it takes to follow my orders, and await my command. Do as I say!" thundered Drek. "I refuse to do so. I can't betray my friend," replied Valdor. "Then you both must die. But before you fall, know my identity. Your efforts thus far deserve it."
The armored figure stood from his throne, and removed his helmet.
It was Iterdel.
"I originally thought that you were a disposable tool in recovering my lost artifacts. But you proved yourself to be far more. Your defiance will be your downfall, Imperial," said the vampire, as a daedric claymore materialized in his hands.
Olaf charged madly. Perhaps he was blinded by rage. The High Elf disarmed Olaf's axe, then cut the Nord across the chest. Valdor saw this and immediately took a far more cautious approach. He inched toward Drek in a defensive position. The swordsmen circled each other. Then in an instant, they both dashed and locked weapons. Drek's daedric claymore glowed, and Valdor's daedric longsword fell into pieces through what appeared to be a weapon disintegration enchantment so powerful that it turned the blade to dust. Reacting quickly, the raider drew Drek's own dagger. The vampire knocked Valdor onto the ground, and telekinetically took the dagger. The immortal being placed one heavy boot on Valdor's stomach. He cut the amulet from across the raider's neck. Securing both items, he lifted giant sword, ready to impale the adventurer.
As Valdor closed his eyes in bracing for the fatal blow, he did not see the steel that had just pierced Drek's chest.
It then disappeared. And Drek turned around ready to strike. The new aggressor dodged nimbly. Sir Darkus had entered the fray, and once again saved Valdor from death. The raider rose to his feet and watched the new struggle.
They locked, dodged, parried, deflected, and dashed like lighting. Each cut tore through their armors deeply. They were ripping each other apart. Blood and sweat covered each swordsman, but sill neither showed any signs of stopping. The constant sword play went in a flash, then Drek retreated slightly, then thrust the claymore into the Last Rune knight, and lifted him off the ground. Although the vampire expected a scream of pain, he got a dwarven claymore thrusted straight into and out of his skull. They both fell to the ground, but only Darkus came to his feet.
"And on your way to Oblivion, may the demons tear at the very essence of your corrupted soul, leaving you empty and lost in darkness."
These were his last words. The noble knight fell on his side and died quietly. It was finally over. Both warring factions of old had now been finished. And Valdor just wanted his (quite literally by this point) bloody artifacts. He lost his sword permanently, Drek's sword had been conjured and immediately disintegrated with Darkus' death, and he had more respect than to take the knight's sword. Olaf was okay after Valdor loaned him a potion. They buried the knight outside of the tower.
"So what do you intend to do now?" questioned the Olaf.
"First I will get a good night's rest. Then I will be off to the Southwestern corner of Vvardenfell," declared Valdor casually. "Well good luck with that. I'm off to Vos. This time for good."
The raider was certain he had heard of a high noble's tomb someplace near Seyda Neen.
If anyone finds an error of lore, grammar, or maybe a plot hole, please mention it in your review. I may post some unrelated chapters later, or "pre" chapters before the event. If anyone wants to continue following Valdor, read Necromancer and Sorcerer's Corruption.
Necromancer and Sorcerer: I hope you don't mind how I sort of connected this story into yours. I may write more later, but I haven't had much time :-\
ReadingWhiz89: I hope you enjoyed how it ended, and weren't too confused by the world of Tamriel. :-P
Elvish Mistress: Please keep writing the stories! For A New Life, you can also use Valdor if you wish. I wasn't sure if he'd fit into your story, but if you ever need to use him feel free to do so.