Who are You?

Saphorius

I love your story

CavalryPK

@ZOS_GinaBruno

please make this into a quest....

Azzuria

CavalryPK wrote: »

@ZOS_GinaBruno

please make this into a quest....

How did you know I want to work as a quest writer?

CavalryPK

Azzuria wrote: »

CavalryPK wrote: »

@ZOS_GinaBruno

please make this into a quest....

How did you know I want to work as a quest writer?

I had no idea. while readying it.. I just imagined how the whole scene playing out in front of my ESO character. The I though... hey why is this not in game... unless it is.. and if so... where is it ? haha

Azzuria

CavalryPK wrote: »

Azzuria wrote: »

CavalryPK wrote: »

@ZOS_GinaBruno

please make this into a quest....

How did you know I want to work as a quest writer?

I had no idea. while readying it.. I just imagined how the whole scene playing out in front of my ESO character. The I though... hey why is this not in game... unless it is.. and if so... where is it ? haha

Nope, it's came right outta my head.

cjhhickman39

Love this story

Azzuria

Sundas. Finally.

Noemi's mother, Helga Snow-borne, hard working Nordic woman that she was, even she did not toil on Sundas without good reason. There were always chores, always things that needed doing, but Sundas was the day when that list was shorter, the urgency lessened and the pace slowed.

Noemi turned over in her bed, pulled the blanket up around her face, sighed heavily and drifted back to sleep, to the dreams of home that were her sole comfort in this far off land.

* * *

When she finally roused from slumber it was a long, slow, languid journey. Her eyes finally opened to see the daylight streaming into her room from the high window on the wall opposite her bed, like the blessing of Shor reaching down from on high. She lay for a moment longer to stare at the brilliant beam of light as it slowly traveled down the wall towards her face. She sat up in bed and the light slowly came down to lay upon her head, eliciting thought of the warm summer days of her youth.

Stretching in a way that only one of the cat-people can, she finally sat up and started her day. Rindol had promised to take her own as a part time apprentice at the smithy and after a week of sparing, training and avoiding / being bested by Ingvar, the idea of pounding something with a hammer appealed to her.

She donned the same dress she had worn on her last trip to the forge, the one burned and singed. No use ruining both her dresses. Lacing up sturdy leather boots she proceeded downstairs with a spring in her step and small smile on her face. She loved Sundas.

She bounded down the stairs to the common room to find it mostly empty. The kettle was on over the low flames in the hearth and breakfast was set out but few were up to enjoy it. She had heard the chorus of snores in the other rooms as she had headed down and imagined most were sleeping off a hangover or trying to sleep through them.

She made short work of stewed oats and prunes and a mug of strong tea then headed outside.

The sun was up, just topping the low buildings around Mournhold. It reflected off the faceted faces of the Temple of the Three. Around her Dunmer guards in their fine armor glinted like the goddess herself in the crisp morning air.

A fine mood had taken her and she greeted everyone with a smile, disconcerting as it may have been to some when she showed her sharpened teeth, a warm hello and refused to allow anyone to bring her down.

The night before Ingvar had tried again. He was not overly bright.

Returning from a punishing run around the outside of Mournhold's walls for some infraction no one completely understood, she stood outside the barracks panting and sweating profusely beneath her plate armor. At least her feet didn't hurt. The adjustments Rindol and she had made to the boots, as well as the wrapping, had proved far more effective than she could have hoped. She stood imagining how it would feel to have boots actually made for her.

That's when Ignvar and his minions came around the corner. They were deep into their cups. All carried mugs of something or another, half staggered and they were all very loud. Were it any other group of Nords Noemi would have found the sight comforting as a reminder of home. That lot just got her hackled up.

The sun had recently hidden itself behind the hills around the city and the sky was the dark purple of a day old bruise. As the sky darkened Noemi's noticed not at all. Another gift of her heritage. The dark was very much her friend.

Ignvar strutted up to her and, waving his mug around regally, began to descript her shortcomings in impolite and, frankly, physically impossible ways.

Noemi stood by and allowed the buffoon to preach to his compatriots, all of whom were taken with fits of drunken guffaws.

'We have one thing in common, Ignvar', Noemi said as the lout paused in his dissertation to take a breath.

Ingvar paused at the interruption as his mead-addled mind tried to catch up.

'Neither of us knows who our father is.' She had called him a ***.

Ingvar blinked then turned red with rage. His fellows burst into an even louder bout of laughter, several falling on their arses in the process.

Noemi tapped her lip a moment as if deep in thought while Ingvar sputtered and spat and tried to think of a retort.

'At least you have options, your mother being so friendly with the entire village.'

Howls of laughter, even louder than before erupted from Ignvar's mates. Ingvar, near blind with rage, threw his mug at Noemi and missed by a wide margin. She had never seen him this mad. Or drunk. This was going to be fun.

He charged her, roaring, both arms out as if to sweep her up in a hug.

She stepped to the right and he bowled past her and directly into the fence post he had been leaning against.

Ingvar was fortunate he was still wearing armor because the top of the post was nethers-high on him. A loud CLANK rang out and Ingvar fell back onto his back, eyes rolling back into his head and hands clasped over his crotch.

As he writhed in pain his fellows were howling and coughing and gagging and falling down in a fit of drunken laughter. None were able to help the man as he lay and nursed his groin.

Noemi stood over him and smiled. All he could do was groan and growl.

'Saved some poor little milksop from being YOUR ***, now, didn't I?'

Ingvar snarled impotently and Noemi turned and walked away. Victor was her with not a punch thrown.

'A battle can be won before it's fought' her mother had said to her.

Noemi, her skirts flowing in the morning breeze, proceeded to the smithy where Rindol awaited her. She was in a fine, fine mood today. She adored Sundas.

CavalryPK

I adore Sundas too !

cjhhickman39

Very good love how the characters are developing