Tales of the Dead - Contest Entry Thread

Brightwillow

Old Cheese

"This will never do!" shouted Eldrig. "I need old cheese, ancient cheese, cheese gone to dust and ruin!" He slammed his hand down upon the table, sending up a cloud of dirt and dust that Marnick had freshly laid to complete his master's ghastly display. The arrow-pinned skeletons, stricken down at their mock repast, lay unfazed in their final repose.
"Sir, I don't think I can get that right away-like. I mean, it's got to have time to get old and rotteny, see, and well--"
"Is it your job to think, you insufferable orc's pizzle?! Enough attempt at rumination on your part, and that walnut of a brain will come running from your ears like tallow. Sculpt it out of clay if you must, but get me something I can work with!"
Dejectedly, Marnick shuffled off toward the marketplace. Gods, what shall I do? he thought, looking up at the lazily moving clouds that seemed to keep pace with him. I ain't no clay worker or nothing. He decided to head once again for the cheese stall that he'd visited scarcely three hours past. Linden was just putting away the last wheel of Daggerfall blue as she prepared to close for the day.
"***, Marnick! That master of yours must have quite the taste for cheese and a hollow leg to boot if you're back for more already."
"If only it were just that, lady," Marnick explained. "He don't want just any cheese; it's got to be old cheese. Ancient-like. Dusty-crumbly."
Linden cocked an eyebrow and laughed. "Remind me to never accept a supper invite from your master, eh Marnick?"
"It's for one of his displays, see. What they set up at the town hall."
"Ah," Linden nodded. "Well, Marnick, I don't have any such cheese, and my customers thank me for it. But, perhaps I can help after all. Do you know my aunt, Tembril, at the remedy shop? No? Let me give you a note, then." Linden produced a scrap of brown paper and quill and began to write.

* * *

Apprehensively, Marnick handed Linden's note over to Tembril, who after a mere glance at it, crumpled it quickly and looked him over.
"You're sure about this, then?" she asked.
Marnick swallowed audibly and nodded, and Tembril disappeared through a doorway at the back of the shop. When she returned, she was carrying a small vial in which shimmered a black powder.

* * *

Tembril had said to be very careful. "Do not get it on yourself, lad, none at all, you hear?" And Marnick was as careful as could be. He got none of it on himself.

* * *

It is said that at the town hall that year, there was installed one of the best and truly gruesomest tableaus ever seen. Arrow-pierced skeletons, old comestibles turned to ruin, and a particularly grim figure of unimaginable ancientness: a mummified popinjay with the most profound look of horror on his face.

DogQuixote

Auberman worked his way through the woods. His feet knew the way, but his eyes roved. Town to camp was an easier walk down the rutted path, but no one could know when something new might turn up. The camp was as he'd left it, a darkish shadow at the base of the rock spur. Climbing the hill, he found the others as he'd left them too.

Marjuan lay, looking up at the sky, conducting some unseen orchestra with his bare toes. Draven was leaned back in the shade of the rock and beamed him the wide, cherubic grin that hadn't changed since they'd learned to walk. The remains of their last meal littered the table.

"Gents, I bring you provender!" Auberman thumped the sack off his shoulder onto the table and cleared the leavings.

"Lash all that!." Marjuan said. "I'll just have some food." He easily caught the wedge of cheese Auberman flung at him. "You got the kind with the stinky bits. I LOVE the stinky bits." He chewed slowly and roundly, a blissful smile on his face. Then his brows furrowed. "How much did this set us back?"

"It's a celebration," Draven said, eyes closed, still smiling. "Price is no object."

"And nothing is too good for my mates," Auberman said. With a flourish he revealed the bottle of wine. "NOTHING too good." Draven opened one eye and his smile grew impossibly wider.

"Mary can have my cheese and I'll take his wine."

Marjuan started to fling a chunk of cheese, thought better of it and popped it into his mouth. Around the mouthful he said,"Sod that. I'll have a double now, thank you."

They all laughed as Auberman layed out the cheese and grapes and filled the goblets. He watched his friends, his dearest fellows since childhood, enjoying the first of many rich meals to come. The ore they'd be taking from this vein would make them rich men. Just the bits scattered inside the narrow split in the rock would make their month one of ease and supply them for the real work ahead. He smiled and took in the moment again, wanting to remember his friends just as they were.

"Now, you boys try not to ache your heads on this bottle. I'm going back to settle a price on the mining gear." He started off but paused when he reached the trees. The words formed on his lips, again, as they did every year when he made this climb. The words he should have said. "Keep your eyes open and your wits about you. The locals have word of bandits down below." But that was down below. Miles of trees on all sides. The boys should have known enough to stay aware, but that isn't how a celebration works, is it?

Auberman smudged the tears off his face. "I'll see you soon, boys." His voice only cracked a little as he said it. He made his way down and did not look back.

Rarok_Yariy

Pirates

If I need someone’s gold, I take it without permission, and if someone is not happy with that, then I kill them. Because I am the captain Boran One-Eye and my ship is Thunder Storm. But it wasn’t like that all the time. Once I was just a cook, and my every day began from cooking for those dirty pigs on the deck. In the evening, when they drank rum, began to shout and sing songs, demanding more food, and again I was cooking. Only occasionally we robbed some merchant ships and would spend all money on rum and girls. The captain, Ragan was his name, all the time ate cheese and drank wine and each time we went ashore, I had to go to the town in disguise to buy more wine, since captains face was hanging on every single fence! One day I noticed that below his dirty face on those fences, guards started writing that for help in capturing Ragan, there will be a reward of 5000 gold coins. When we robbed another merchant ship, I noticed an old man hiding behind the barrels, who was trying to hide something in them. Before I killed him, he said that this was his poison, which he was developing all his life. I took it and hid it in our ship. That time Ragan decided to set the anchor at small town, which had nice girls. While we were sailing, I had time to test the poison on one sailor, I offered him a piece of cake with poison in it, and after five hours he suddenly died. By the evening we were near the town and I’ve added this miracle potion to whole crew’s food. As usual, we’ve hidden our ship behind the cliffs, the crew stayed on the ship but the captain with boatswain and some other crew members went ashore to set up a camp in canyon caves, sending me to the town. Well I brought elven guards, which shot the captain and boatswain on the spot. Later the head of the guards paid me with gold. In the towns inn I was able to recruit some former sailors, which helped me to get to the Black Cove, before dying from my food, because the previous crew died three days ago and was sent to the bottom of the sea. And here I recruited a new team and many years after, I am still the captain.

Eisenhovver

My beautiful Nara finally returned to me last night. It has been difficult raising our newborn child in her absence and Kyne knows how I have missed her this past year. The expedition was only to last a month. I am just thankful she is back. And I know our boy is too.
***
It turns out that my Nara was not on the adventure that I had expected. She has informed me that for the past half of a year she has been staying with another man. She insists that the man was merely trying to help her overcome an illness she contracted while fighting in the war but she will not tell me what the illness is. It is due to this illness apparently that she is now sensitive to sunlight and must sleep during the day. Garlund doesn’t understand why his mother is acting so strangely. I can’t say that I do either.
***
My Nara is not the same person as the loving woman that left a year ago. She has changed. The illness that afflicts her is something that I thought was only real in books from long ago. Vampirism. She swears to me that the man she stayed with taught her how to tame the urge for flesh and that her love for me was the only thing that kept her from turning the dagger on herself. I want to believe her but what I saw her do to a man tonight made me question if my Nara is even still inside this woman. She dragged him in from the darkness and the man only got one sentence out before she drained him of blood. 'They are coming for you'.
***
My wife informed me that the people that the mysterious man was referring to are a group of men and women who have dedicated their lives to destroying all vampires. The only way to keep our son safe was to leave him with my mother and hope that we can return to him when he is older and no longer in danger. I believe her when she says that she loves me and for that reason I cannot let her run in fear of her life alone. I have decided to run with her. I find that through it all, I still love her as well. She wants to return to the man who helped her these past months hoping that he will have a plan to keep her hidden.
***
My Nara is leading us into a dense forest to hopefully dodge the men chasing us. I have seen no sign that we are being followed by she insists they are close behind. I know that she is a monster but I cannot ignore my undying love for her. I would follow her anywhere. After dinner we will continue on our journey and hope that these men do not catch up.

SixSixOneRacing

Dear Journal,
I awaken today with joy and furor. My beloved Annabelle agreed to accompany me today for a feast. I must regain my composure, I'm still somewhat distressed about my brother Enos, he agreed to arrange the dinner for my beloved and I. Something odd was pestering him the other night. I wonder what it could of been?
Well, now is no time to worry myself, I must be off to pick up my darling Annabelle.
I have arrived to the arrangement Enos has prepared for my companion and I, it is remarkable. Everything seems to be in the perfect position. I can foretell this feast will be one to remember. Oddly enough i cant shake this feeling we are being watched. I shouldn't let this unnerve myself, I have a beautiful companion i must accompany. I will continue writing once the feast is complete, I shouldn't keep my darling waiting any longer.
-Hadrian (Signature trails of end of journal)

Calimyre

This is it! The perfect place for our outdoor party. A nice clearing for the buffet table, cool stream babbling nearby. Oh what fun we'll have. There is even a convenient cave nearby for my scavenger hunt. Elnora is doubtful that anyone will show...as usual...but she'll see once the guests arrive. Let those traveling revelers mock me will they!? This will show them how a true reveler....um revel!!!

It's getting late and no one has arrived. I wonder if I made the clues to the location a little too cryptic. No matter. Better to weed out all of the dullards. Nothing like an engaging party with true intellectuals like myself. Elnora has been nagging me to leave for the last two hours. But I remain in good spirits. This will be the event of the season!!!

They're here!! I was beginning to have my doubts, but a group approaches at this very moment. Divines be praised! Let the festivities begin!!!

-Author unknown-

Michael308

Bad Monday

It was a Monday, starting out like any other day with me standing in the middle of a crime scene, looking down at a dead body. I had a splitting headache and a desperate need for coffee.

The name's Thorsson, Lars Thorsson. I'm a city guard... well, I used to be anyway; then I took an arrow to the knee. But that's another story. Now I'm hired muscle. A fixer.

I shook my head, fuzzy on the details. Skooma, something to do with bad cats hustling bad sugar. I rubbed my left temple, wincing at the pain that throbbed like a spike in my skull. I'da killed for some Bugloss just now but there was nothing more than scrub grass in sight. I scowled. Focus on the details...

The campsite was a dead drop. The guys cooking sugar likely worked a lab in some cave nearby; no way they'd risk a buy there. This was one of a hundred little spots where you could make a discreet swap. Traces of gooey sugar clung to the splintered wood barrel. The buyer picks up the goods and leaves the gold. You didn't have to be a detective to know the emblem on the green silk bag was the seal of Rethan Holdings, Riften's biggest bank and money launderer for the rich and infamous.

But something had gone wrong. My eyes narrowed. Dead Guy #1 was on his back. Somebody had punched his ticket but good, an arrow in each eye socket. Nifty shooting; I know, I'm decent with a bow myself. This was Dark Brotherhood maybe, those shadowy little ninja-types gave me the creeps. One moment you're alone, then some whisp of smoke thumps an arrow in your melon.

Dead Guy #2 got it quick; so quick he never had a chance to get out of his chair. Something seemed familiar about the body but I couldn't place it. Just bones now; muscle, skin and clothes rotted away. But the pose was casual, cocky, almost like he'd been looking at Grom lying dead...

My eyes flicked to the corpse on the ground. How'd I know his name was Grom? Jumbled pictures flashed through my mind. Grom's face when he turned and saw me staring at him down the length of an arrow. I grinned when I shot him, shot my partner. Screw Grom and the Khajits, I'd thought, I had the skooma and the gold. I remembered sitting down to savor the moment, sitting right...

My eyes drifted to the second corpse and the pain in my skull throbbed anew. I sat right there.

Panic crawled up my gut as I remembered the vaguely feline shadow off to my left, just as something slammed into my skull. The damn cats had a fixer of their own. I raised my hand, dawn's light sifting through transparent fingers.

It was a Monday, just like every other day for the last twenty-odd years, when I realize the body I'm looking down on is my own.

###


Michael Marks
Guild: Dead By Dawn
word count: 500

UareGone

At the time I am able to post this comment, the Tales of the dead contest has been over for hours. I was unable to post my entry to this forum because the "Invitation" code I was sent had expired months ago. By the time they got back to me with a new account of their own creation, 36 hours AFTER I submitted the problem. Because they took so long, I was unable to post my entry and was effectively barred from competing by the costumer service department. I am posting the entry anyway however. If this story can't entre the competition, at least I hope entertained by it.

The courier was late, far too late to be a simple delay. That thought weighed heavily on Arringoth’s mind as the wealthy wood elf strode swiftly along a dusty trail in northern Reaper’s March. He was only a few miles south of the Cyrodiil, traveling to broker a deal with his suppler. The young Khajiit was always quick about his work if good coin was promised, even quicker with the promise of skooma. That sugar-sweet drug of the cat folk and the gold it promised was the reason a rich Bosmer would not only journey this far from the safety of Anvil, but travel alone.
Arringoth was one of several dealers on the docks of the city. Any of his rivals or the numerous bandits of the region would be only too happy to relieve the Mer of his head, his business, and more importantly, his stock of skooma. Knowing this, the paranoid elf could not afford to hire a sell sword or bring his muscle for fear of attracting attention.
A few hours had passed since dawn as Arringoth neared the camp of his supplier. The Altmer who called himself the Sugar Baron had provided the drug of distilled moon sugar to northern dealers for more than ten years. Rather impressive for anyone dealing in the deadly contraband. The Wood Elf followed the narrow path high up the ravine of weathered rock before he arrived in a small, shaded clearing tucked away amid the massive boulders of an isolated ridge.
The Sugar Baron shouted a greeting to his costumer as the Bosmer surveyed his surroundings. The clearing was not completely desolate. A few small trees skirted by bushes, flowers, and tall grass filled a wide corner of the open ground and a cold camp fire sat unattended. The Wood Elf returned his attention to his altmer supplier. He sat on the opposite side of the clearing in a finely carved wooden chair with his back to a boulder. Before the High Elf sat an equally fine wooden table and a vacant chair. Upon the table waited a meal of cheese and grapes with a pair of goblets awaiting the contents of the bottle of fine wine beside them.
After greetings and formalities had passed, Arringoth sat across from the Baron and the two began to discuss business. Negotiations had gone well until shouting rose from the rocks. After that, all hell broke loose. Several bandit bowmen leaped atop the surrounding rocks and loused arrows on the skooma peddlers below. The Baron turned and shouted his surrender. He was answered and silenced with an arrow to his head. Arringoth tried to run with a wedge of cheese still in hand as stray arrows touched down around. He didn’t make it far. The Wood Elf stumbled and fell by the camp fire onto his back as an arrow pierced his eye. All that work for nothing. This was no way to conduct business.

dracobains_ESO

I was on an errand for Darien to track some of the Daedric troop movements when I came upon a ghastly scene. I crouched instinctively and hid myself. There were at least two corpses long since dead and a table with what appeared to be fresh food. I surveyed the scene for quite some time before easing into the camp. The fletching was Goblin. Poor *** were probably jumped by a scouting party by the looks of it.

I was trying to determine if I had enough time to bury these unfortunate souls when I noticed the poor chap at the table was wearing a medallion with an engraving. As I reached out to read the engraving, all the hair on my arms and neck stood straight up. I recoiled and spun around and was face to face with the spirit of the deceased.

"Who are you!" he demanded.

"They call me Bloodtalon," I replied uneasily. "I am on an errand for the fighters guild."

The spirit kept scanning the carnage and I could see the rage in his eyes each time he paused on the other victim. Spirits can be very fickle when angered so I decided to speak with it further and take its attention off the other corpse.

"What happened here?" I asked gently.

He seemed to settle down somewhat as he began recollecting his final moments.

"I brought my son here to hunt and begin his journey in life as a man just as my father had done when I was his age. After a wonderful afternoon we sat down to enjoy our evening meal. My son was bragging about his tracking skills and I was laughing at his youthful zeal when I heard a goblin shriek. That is all I can recall."

His face contorted again in what looked like crying or agony I could not tell but he was obviously becoming agitated again.

"I am sorry friend." I offered. "Goblins are a vile creature."

He turned a hard cold stare at me just then and my hand clutched the hilt of my dagger.

"Avenge me!" he hissed with a fury I had never heard before. "Avenge us" he repeated as he pointed toward his dead son.

Before I could reply he pointed to his corpse.

"There. Take that medallion and deliver it to my sister Aniette in Daggerfall. It is a family heirloom and she is the last of our blood."

"You do not have a wife then?" I asked.

"No. My wife died giving birth to our son."

I wasn't sure how I was going to explain the delay to Darien but I reached out and grabbed the medallion and gave the spirit a reassuring nod. He seemed pleased.

As I headed east toward the goblin encampment I was becoming a bit giddy at the thought of killing goblins. When I glanced back I saw the man and his son eating there last meal again, laughing.

"Be at peace" I whispered.

Rajani Isa

The mage finished casting the spell, hoping to learn what happened to his employer's missing cargo. As soon as the last of the words left his lips, two images started to form.

The images were of two bretons, of similar build and appearance. They looked around, and focus on the remains of their bodies.

"Those arrows - dammit, that blasted bosmer betrayed us. I told you we shouldn't trust someone who isn't willing to go to their own home!" said the slightly older seeming one.

So one of the guards stole the cargo? My employer won't like that. The mage's musings were interrupted by the other summoned ghost shouting obscenities.

"You blasted cheat! There must be a dozen different dice here. You would cheat your own brother?"

Ah, so these are the brothers. At least we can make sure their remains get sent home.

"You said you'd stopped. That you'd reformed. I thought you had just a good run of luck but now I can see you lie like a sack of elven -" the ghost stops and turns to the mage. "Would you please leave? This is a family matter, and I don't appreciate you listening in on -"

No wonder they're dead. I wonder if the bosmer even had to shoot at them from hiding? thought the mage as he dismissed the spell, banishing the ghosts. Oh well, time to return. Wonder if I'll get to sleep before I'm sent after the bosmer?

Tannyn

“You know, why can’t people get their own things,” Arynnia mused to herself as she padded along a solemn mountain trail, empty save for dirt, a few pathetic excuses for jute (which she picked nonetheless), and her own voice reflecting dourly back at her. Adventurer and mercenary, the tiny wood elf was not uncommon to travels by herself and sometimes, when the madness of being along was too much, she talked to herself. “I mean, you’d think, that they would be capable of finding their own lost doll or journal or beloved Aunt Gertrude’s locket or whatever. People – lazy. Oh well, it’s their coin.”
She turned a sharp corner and found herself in a small clearing, silencing her rant instantly, which was something amazing indeed. Interest piqued as she took in the site that once must have been a campsite long past gone, which, honestly, probably had seen better days with the knocked over chair, rotting arrows sticking out of the hard ground, and the skeletal remains. The wood elf swayed over, examining with her luminous eyes as she noticed the obviously long-past deceased skeletons and then the table prepared with fresh food and drink.
Arynnia picked off a grape from the plate, sniffed it curiously, and popped it in her mouth. She shrugged – tasted fine – and then righted the fallen chair and sat in it to continue eating the rest of the meal. Free food was free food and she took it whenever she could, dead people or no dead people.
“So, Cocky,” she spoke to the skeleton sitting across from her, naming it so because of its leisurely-placed hand and arrogant demeanor, only slightly betrayed by the arrow embedded in its skull. She ignored the skeleton fallen behind her with feathers poking out of its eye sockets. “What happened here? Bandits come chasing after you because you picked the wrong lass at the bar? No, that’s beneath a smart guy like you. Well, I guess you’re not that smart, seeing as you’re dead and all.”
She sat thoughtfully for a while, munching upon a chunk of delicious cheese. “Ooh!” Her eyes positively glowed. “I know! A daedra! Probably pissed off one of the princes and ended up in this mess, but they wouldn’t just leave good food lying around – Hey! Don’t give me that attitude, I’ve been around a tomb or two, I met a few of those baddies. Very touchy, sensitive beings, they are, don’t like you stealing their age-old items, and the mad ones really enjoy their meals, I tell ya. Hey! Do you want me to tell you about the time I met Sheogorath?”
Cocky stared blankly back at her, silent and still. Arynnia took it as an invitation and merrily plowed on with her story, content and full with food. The slouching skeleton did not move but if the open jaw could still produce sound, it would be screaming as the wood elf’s voice filled the night’s air cheerily.

Lady_Swillmart

(Hello, everyone. I wasn't going to take the bait but then I decided to. Uh. Paw at the little plastic bit of cheese in the trap, so to speak. I guess it's more like an epilogue, so this one's probably not what you're looking for! But in the end, I really just hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed chucking things at it.)

(NB: Open Office says it's exactly 498 words. What can I say, I like living on the edge.)

But was this a terrible crime or someone's idea of a joke? Everyone at HQ had to admit, the notion of two fellows dragging a heavy wooden dining table (complete with an inedible pastiche of wax amuse-bouche) into the wilderness for a candlelit dinner was more Surrealist than Classical.

Evidence of a violent ambush made it a grisly scene however, and not an appropriate piece for any respectable Aldmeri drawing room.

In any case, Aldmeri Dominion Special Case Caseworker Case Supervisor Uurelinium was on the case, as hard as that was to believe. Confidently, with all the hard-boiled experience that came from working cases like these, he strode into the tableau.

"At the intersection of murder and comedy," he began, then stopped short of a revelation.

Needed more ruminating. While Uurelinium chewed, Aldmeri Dominion junior special agent (no capitalization for the juniors) Arlen Askew wandered to the weathered picnic table where one of the subjects sat.

Still life of a dead man. Arlen could only venture that the main course of this dinner left something to be desired.

"Aye, no two bones about it, this chappie's quite dead," Arlen said, picking up the victim's wrist. Death had left it a bit bony.

"Tipso pipso, 'twas murder paired with the wine on the table that day." Uurelinium turned on his heels and lifted a finger. "Murder for what? Crumbs, I say."

Arlen dislodged an arrow from a half-melted bunch of grapes. He stroked the fletchings; oily black cormorant feathers, like the ones used by a local tribe of goblins. "You think... Perhaps it's just a warning? Sir?"

A rustle from a towering Symphoricarpos albus.

"I think we'd best forget this Neighborhood Watch racket and focus on this composition of this scene and the, uh," Uurelinium searched, "boldness of its statement. Clearly a sardonic message concerning the greatest irony of life; the inevitability of death."

Arlen gestured at the skeleton. "That arrow in his head, 's fresh."

A polyphonic gruttering reverberating around the rocks.

"It's only subtext!" Uurelinium loved subtext. "Notice how this skeleton's hand is forever reaching for that wedge of cheese."

A grey streak through the air, an oily fletched THOINK through the table, giving the skeleton something else to reach for.

Arlen blanched.

"Comedy? Bah! What greater tragedy than to be eternally trapped in a state of longing?" Uurelinium's beady eyes had misted over. "The subtext of this murder is Time. Time moves forward inexorably but we must appreciate it while we have the faculty to do so!

"I--"

"--you must move, Arlen! Act!" Uurelinium lunged forward and grabbed the young Bosmer's shoulders. "Before your inescapable installation as a work of absurdist art! Our collective mortality! We are all doomed to become art!"

"I don't want to be art!" Arlen whimpered as another arrow whizzed uncomfortably close to his ear. "'s all very fine, but we ought not overlook the text of the installation either."

"What?"

"They're here, they're armed and they hate us, sir!"

(Thanks for reading. If you feel the need to flame this, all I ask is that you have the common decency to do it sneakily, behind my back.)

shadowedexistenceb16_ESO

“Remember boys, he's a vampire. We gotta sneak up real quiet and catch him by surprise,” Kelvan warned the eight other men in his hunting party as they stalked the countryside.

Jorgen, youngest of the men, fiddled with his bow nervously. “Couldn't we just set sail now instead of tomorrow?”

Hakon slapped the young man on the back heartily. “It has already taken notice of Eyvin's sister. It will track us to the ends of Tamriel just to get her. Vampires can fly over water, you know.”

Kelvan hushed them harshly and called them to silence Couching low ,the advanced with all the stealth the large warriors could muster.

Carefree laughter alerted them they were getting close. Then, as they rounded the bend, they saw it. Dark skin, sharp features, pointed ears, and those tell tale blood red eyes. It was with someone too. But approaching from behind all they could see was the dark green cloak she, by the feminine laughter they heard earlier it must be a she, was wearing.

The vile creature was no doubt trying to seduce his victim, offering a grape to her waiting lips hidden under the hood. Then it lifted from the chair, leaning in towards her. When it tilted it's head, the men had no doubt it was moving in to bite her and feast off her blood.

Kelvan gave the signal. As one, the nine men drew back their bows. In their first volley, two arrows took the creature right in the eyes throwing him backwards over his chair. In the second volley, another took it in the groin, pinning him to the ground.

“Bullseye! Right in the eye!” Hakon exclaimed with excitement.

“Nice one. I got the other,” Kelvan claimed.

Fiske was elbowing young Jorgen and pointing to the fallen creature. “Yeah well I got him right in the c-”

“Crap,” Hakon said cutting Fiske off with a curse. “She took an arrow to the head. Lads. Someone shot the woman.”

---

Excerpt from Renza's diary:

I met the most handsome mer today. Such exotic features and dark skin. At first his blood red eyes startled me, but he says they are common among his people the dunmer. My over protective brother insists that means he's a vampire but that can't be so. His skin was as dark as the night, not pale like the undead. Besides, he was so gentle with his pack guar and so kind to me. He gave me the most wonderful green cloak saying that it matched my eyes.

He invited me to dinner tonight. He has traveled most recently from the Summerset Isles and insists I try some of the wine he has brought with him. Eyvin would never let me go, so I will use my cloak to sneak out once it gets dark. Then I cam prove he's not really a vampire and father will let him sail with us back home to sell his goods.

ZOS_GinaBruno

Great entries so far, everyone! Just a reminder that the submission period ends tonight at midnight (Eastern time).

the_sid

Mara's Blindfold

One tale of Heart's Day that I keep on my mind
Is the day of Sir Everyman's untimely demise.
He was handsome and young and famous, 'tis true,
But his heart was mercurial and his trousers were, too.
He was the Chosen of Mara, a knight of grace and charm
The legends say his staff was as long as his arm!

Sir's skill in battle was not marked with a shield,
His conquests were made in his bed, not the field.
Though his lust and his ardor were given quite freely,
His love was imprisoned in a heart rather steely.
One maiden, whose countenance was hard as Sir's heart
Captured his honor by false word from the start.

Sir gave her his body, his sword, and his ring
But to his guarded heart, she never could cling.
At first his eye wandered, but then did his boots
And he often found himself at the local taverns to roost.
A lovely maiden passes by and turns many heads,
But a lovely man in a tavern will find many free beds.

Mara's Embrace of Protection could shield him from threat
But the Goddess of Love cannot foresee all events.
Suspicion and anger tore at the heart of Sir's wife
And for knowledge she promised Hermaeus Mora a life.
The Golden Eye opened and she was shown a single truth,
Sir drinking and dancing away her sweet youth.

She tore at her hair and her breast and her skirts,
Thinking of where to hit him, she decided where it hurts.
Dressed richly in robes and disguised as a fan,
She summoned Sir Everyman to the nearest tavern.
Seducing him quickly with a grace she was unknown to possess
His guarded heart opened and his love he professed.

Mara should have rejoiced on this famous sixteenth day,
But instead the goddess wept for her Knight's dark fate.
A secret cove in shadows, where the wedded couple first met,
Was the place his wife in costume lured him with promise of food and sweat.
As his love was finally true and his heart was opened wide,
He awaited the wife of his desires in the dark and peaceful glade.

Thinking to embarrass him, his wife revealed her ruse
But, with Mara's Blessing, along with nearly all the booze
He revealed he truly loved his wife and wanted her forever
But then Hermaeus Mora sent minions to claim his endeavor.
Showered with many arrows were their hearts and minds,
But none of the missiles spent were of Mara's gilded kind.

The lesson here, my fellows, and I promise I tell you true,
Is that a romance with your wife is too hard to live up to.
Seekers of truth and knowledge are fine in a certain place,
But the happiest romancers are those locked in blind embrace.
Once the eyes are opened and the truth is yours to see
You may just find yourself the victim of your woman's jealousy.

Iam_Epiphany

[2e 583]
10/ Morning Star
I can't keep living like this.
Scavenging and begging just to eat is a
pitiful way of living.
I've heard rumours of a guild of thieves
recruiting in Daggerfall, if anything at all
I'm hoping for some warm shelter and food.

18/ Morning Star
They accepted me!
A dark basement isn't the best place to live,
but it's a roof over my head at least.
The house is owned by a redguard who we only call 'T'.
Who would've known this place even existed under such an inconspicuous house?

22/ Morning Star
I'm told today is the day my ancestors
wake the spirits of nature after the cold months.
Today I take food and cloth from
merchants in the Marketplace. I try not to
think about who pays the
consequences for my actions.

25/ Morning Star
I've been here a week now and seen all kinds of valuables brought
in to the guild, none of it goes in to making this place look nicer,
that’s for sure. When I asked some other members where it goes, they told me
the guild master gives everything we don't need to help people like us, but with this
kind of money going around someone would notice.
What sort of guild master only gives away a single inital to his most trusted friends anyway?

1/ Sun's Dawn
The markets were filled with busy
merchants not watching wares. I
caught an easy haul, but the air felt tense
and I could feel warm eyes on me.
I found their owner, shining from the crowd,
I only caught a glimpse but she mystified me anyway.

12/ Sun's Dawn
I was in the Cathedral today and caught myself
checking for valuables.
When did I stop noticing the beauty of this place
and start looking for ways to exploit the innocent?

24/ Sun's Dawn
On the way back from the Market, the Guild
Master passed me, I followed him to a
warehouse, straight to where he was hiding the
treasure, he's been playing us all.

18/ First Seed
I came here to get what I needed to survive,
I thought they were like me, but this is an
organisation run by greed. I still need them,
but there must be a better life than this.

22/ First Seed
I saw the Breton girl again.
She left me a note on a table…
I'm going to meet her tonight.

23/ First Seed
We're leaving.
She's beautiful.
I won't steal from the innocent,
But I will steal from the guilty.

7/ Rain's Hand
I took what I could carry from T's warehouse, a HUGE bag filled with gold!
We ran east and never looked back with enough gold to buy anything we want,
I'm writing this next to a beautiful waterfall and life has never looked better, I just
hope my old life never catches up t

'No one steals from me and lives to enjoy the spoils.

Consider your debt paid.

T.'

criscal

Diary
Today is the day. I have tasted everything there is to taste in all of Tamriel. I have tasted the big five and dangerous of the Mournhold Connoisseurs. The Alit of the Black marshes, the bull netch of Stonefalls, the sea-serpent of Pyandonnea, the mammoth of southern Skyrim and the scorpions of the Alik’r desert. I have founded the local chapter of our glorious organisation in our diaspora in Vulkhel in Auridon and oh, has it increased my prestige, that had been non-existent as an outsider before.
But I haven’t stopped there.
I found sponsors to dine on the most rare and exquisite of animals of legends. I have savoured the loins of the frost-fox. I have sampled the legs of a raven toad - just to name a few. But all this pales in comparison to the aetherian simian. This fine animal has considered to be extinct. My compagnon has procured the last of its kind. He will be the referee to my accomplishment. We have set up a table to celebrate our dinner. The firewood has been piled up. A camp-fire will make it a most delicious roast.I have marinated the meat according to a book of recipes of the legendary Breton chef Eliahir - which in itself had cost a fortune to obtain.I have put out the cheese and wine that goes so well with this little creature on a table that we have brought into the wilderness. It’s a civilized place far from the city’s civilization. The starting of the fire gives me this moment of contemplation and time to write these solemn lines. My compagnon tells me that the animal was the pet of a local chieftain and that he had been very lucky indeed. The chieftain wouldn’t want to part with it at first, as he was considering the animal to be sacred. When my compagnon already had left the village, the son of the chieftain would come up behind him at the village’s fence and tell him that the chieftain had changed his mind and that some jewels would be the price for this delicious animal. I will put down my diary and lift the glass to these lucky circumstances.

kassandratheclericb14_ESO

I ran after the summoned clannifer I had nicknamed, Clanny. The darn thing would run away at the smallest of shiny objects. For a summoned creature he could ignore most of my commands if he was distracted. I almost ran into it in the small clearing where it was busily munching on some cheese.

Cheese?

I looked quickly around and saw two skeletons in the middle of what seemed to have been a picnic. More strange still was that there was no meat on their bones, nor clothing. Chairs were strewn about and both skeletons though lacking even the barest of rags, seemed to be impaled with many, many arrows. Quickly looking around for bandits I hissed at the still chomping clannifer.

“Dang it Clanny, stop eating all the cheese. You know what that does to you.” I scrunched my nose at the remembered smells.

I stepped closer and decided that these bodies had been here for some time. Weird though...all other items were still present...bags, money pouches and the like. I gingerly picking up a piece of cheese it seemed as fresh as new. Why would any bandits leave such things...?

Then it hit me like the stink that would surely come from the daedra after its cheese binge. Sheo...

Suddenly the air around me seemed to shrink and a loud pop rang my ears. The clannifer abandoned his cheese run wildly behind me. I didn't even bother to turn.

“Hello, Mad God.”

A weird laughter erupted, “Well if it isn't me favorite mortal. Come to admire a bit more of me handiwork?”

With a sigh I turned away from the scene to face Sheogorath, who was scratching the clannifer. “Oh yes it is just lovely. Watch out though Clanny ate some cheese...” At that statement there was a long, rumbling sound followed by the most foul stench of brimstone and spoiled cheese. The clannifer didn't even look ashamed.

The Mad God laughed again, “Well aren't you just good at cutting the cheese. If only these poor sods had enjoyed it as well as you, Clanny. But they complained...indeed after I worked so hard on their picnic..well..after Haskill worked so hard...” Sheo tilted his head and a twinkling appeared dangerous in his eyes. “Do you know, Mortal..what they dared to complain about? Had the very nerve after I give them all they were wishing for? Why they said these cheese was not sharp enough. Fixed that right up I did! Ha ha!”

Turning back to the scene I walked to the skeleton sitting somewhat upright. I pulled the still stuck arrow from its skull. I had to agree that the Mad God had indeed...given them some requested sharpness.

One had to be so careful when asking a boon from the Mad God...

ers101284b14_ESO

Dear Frank (Frank is my journal made from human flesh and butterflies)

Today some angry skeevers stole my cheese, so I made them into swiss and stole their souls.

I then danced around in their skin. It was so much fun I might do it again tomorrow...or maybe not

CHEESE!!!!

Love Uncle Sheogorath

Marise20

Let me tell you about a delightful young couple I once met. They were very much in love, you see. And love is the greatest form of madness. But that’s not what this story is really about.
Did you know, there are places outside of Oblivion and Nirn? It’s true. And your Uncle Sheo found a portal to one of them. Impressive, isn’t it?
It was a strange place, even to me. I found the young love birds there, sitting in the same room but not looking at each other. They were staring at some sort of windows, and do you know what I saw through them? Guess. Never mind, I’ll tell you. I saw Nirn. May I never eat cheese again if I’m lying! Well, yes, I lie all the time, but not about this.
They were looking at Rivenspire, of all things. Dreary place, if you ask me.
But how, you may be wondering, could they do this? Were they gods? No, they weren’t. Ha! They were ordinary people.
I walked in and tried to have a closer look at their little windows, but they got quite upset, if you can believe it. So I introduced myself, and they said they knew me. They’d seen me through the windows. Mad, isn’t it? I was tickled pink.
Do you know what they asked me next? They asked if I could take them to Nirn. I could, naturally, but your Uncle Sheo doesn’t do favors for nothing. I didn’t ask them for gold or anything dull like that, though. I asked to choose the time, and the place in Nirn. Simple as that.
I’m generous, I know.
So that was the deal, and the love birds agreed to it. I left and made some preparations, enjoyed a nice cup of moon-sugar tea, and went back to get them. They were ready and waiting, standing there holding hands. Daft as skeevers.
So I took them through the portal to Oblivion, then dropped them off in Nirn at the place I’d chosen. Lovely little glade. I’d set up a table there with a charming meal for them. Quite tasteful, if I say so myself. They sat right down and started eating, thanking me over and over. By then I’d started to wonder if they knew as much about me as they said they did.
Neither one of them saw the bandits until the arrows were flying. You do remember what I said about making preparations, don’t you? I wasn’t just setting the table, elegant though it was. No, I’d made sure that every bandit from Wayrest to Shornhelm knew there would be a rich young couple in that glade at just that time. Positively bulging with precious stones and gold.
No, they weren’t really wealthy. Of course not. That’s the best part of the story! Must I explain everything?
You take the fun right out of this sometimes, do you know that? Oh, but never mind. Your Uncle Sheo forgives you.

fireravenb14_ESO

The stench of death was upon her. Its potency diminished as she left the cave escorted by two undead minions. Chrystabyth squinted as her eyes adjusted to the sun.

Woods skirted the edge of the cave, leaving only a small clearing. She could feel the light of Arkay returning to her, even as the necromancer stood from his chair and food stocked table to greet her.

“You look just like her, you know.“ Said the necromancer, stepping forward to grab a lock of her hair. She cringed. For an eternity he stood smelling her hair, inhaling her scent, and treating her like some drug for mad men. Finally, he spoke again. “Come, sit and eat. We have much to discuss.”

Hard cheese, grapes, and wine had been laid upon the table. She moved forward to sit. She began to eat and the man joined her.

"Leave us," he barked at the escorts. For some time they sat in silence, sullen stares ebbing from captive to jailer.

“What do you expect of me?” She said with a sudden snap, as if her courage had returned.

“I want your help negotiating with Arkay of course.” He replied in a voice smooth as silk. He pulled a scroll from his robe and unrolled it, revealing the marvelous sketch of a woman. Chystabyth was astonished by its striking resemblance to her.

“This was my darling wife, Ysyna.” The beginnings of tears gleamed in his eyes. “Our history and life are of no importance to you, but I loved her dearly. Some time ago bandits raided our caravan. We rebuffed them. However, from me they stole sweet Ysyna. She took an arrow to the throat you see…”

The man looked down nervously as if about to burst into tears. “On that day Arkay took my loving wife from me. I believe this was a mistake, and I want you to help me bring her back.”

She looked down at the man with pity in her eyes. “There is little we can do once a loved one has departed into Aetherius. They cannot travel back until their turn comes again.” Sensing rage building in the man, she reached out and stroked his hand. “There is something we can try though.”

“Anything just tell me!” The man shouted.

“Repent your ways and pray with me to Arkay.” Chrystabyth smiled and looked into his eyes with a hushing stillness. “If indeed, he has made some error your devotion will certainly get your message to him. If not, I am certain he will send a message to you in some other form.”

She offered her hands for the man to clasp. “We can start now if you’d like.”

“I warn you any funny business and I’ll enslave you!” She simply smiled at his threat.

“You have my word as a Priestess of Arkay.” And so she took his hand and they both began to pray. Moments later his answer came to the thrum of bows; a bandit raid.

Zakoraya

Lorana gazed at my bloodied figure as I tried to catch my breath, her turquoise eyes impassive. Moments earlier I had burst from the cave and dropped to my knees, my back aflame with pain and my feet failing to hold me upright as I struggled to stand. I was clutching a heavy sack close to my body, my knuckles white with the strain as my head spun with wild eyed terror. She slowly shook her head.

‘You should never have gone in there’.

I frantically ignored Lorana’s resigned, toneless and empty response. Her strangely elegant frame was still and motionless as the sound of my ragged breathing rhythmically punctuated the morning air. My tongue felt swollen and useless - horrific images, terrors and fear clouded my mind. We needed to find some way to leave. We had to go. There was no time!

Lorana read my wordless gestures yet remained infuriatingly still. I stumbled weakly toward her and fell once more, strength flowing out of me like an ebbing tide as my mind filled with thick, viscous darkness.

My amulet. I do not know how long I lay there until what felt like the warmth of the rising sun gently pulse from my pocket, washing over me, thawing the paralysing fear and desperation which had taken root in the very marrow of my bones. I smelt the sweet familiar scent of flowers as my senses returned to me. I became aware of the soft dampness of the moss under my aching back and the familiarity of the steady ground as my mind began to clear. A sudden icy chill swept over me like a spider as my eyes settled on Lorana.

Lorana was sat at a candlelit table, her tall frame eerily illuminated by an unnatural glow. A banquet of wine, cheese and grapes was spread out before her, her eyes blank, vacant and empty. She caught my stare and abruptly fixed her eyes upon me, a lopsided, deranged smile widening across her face. My eyes flicked from Lorana, to the heavy sack, then back to Lorana.

‘Wonderful!’ Lorana screeched unexpectedly. ‘Time for a celebration... Cheese for everyone! Wait, scratch that. You have my sack. Woops! Cheese for no one...’

A block of cheese struck my arm. A mad laugh echoed before me. Lorana was still laughing when the arrows found their mark.

morladon

A whispered conversation continues in the rocks overlooking the campsite:

"Shouldn't we try to capture them? They may have knowledge we can use..."

"The two of them leveled our entire camp in seconds, we can't risk it."

"Not even for the treasure? We don't know where it is, maybe they could lead us to it."

"The Commander doesn't care about the treasure; he just wants them dead before more of our men die. These mages have left burned camps and bodies across the entire region. Of course, YOU could just walk into their camp and talk to them first, if you like. We'll be right here..."

"Since you put it that way...we take the one on the left. You want left eye or right eye?"

"Left. Archers, ready, on my mark...Fire!"

Shining1

Cheese Shot

The Bosmer's nimble fingers could fleece the tusks off a mammoth, or so she often boasted, but the pale blue glow of the gemstone held her digits at bay. It's only light, Sudd 'The Swiftest' told herself, Just a glowin' pebble on a dusty altar, in a long-lost crypt, filled with undead. There would be words with the Mage's Guild representative that subcontracted her this 'simple pickup.' Pointy words.

The young thief winced at the jarring clatter of the skeletal warriors that crushed below her mercenary companion's heavy maul. Grunk's savage bellows roused the ancient guardians nearly as fast as the grizzled Orc could pulverize them.

Sudd spat a colorful curse and snatched the stone.

*

"Care for a Jazbay Cabernet? Perhaps a Bervez Wine, or -- I know! -- what you need is an Eye-Opener." A man's bemused quip trailed off in sinister forewarning, but Sudd was deaf to the overture. Her feral sense of self-preservation flared against the unannounced teleportation. She and Grunk were back outside at their old campsite and seated opposite the other at an oddly placed dining table. The large mercenary struggled to clear his mouth of a thick cheese wedge, only to have another appear in its place to gag him.

The host, a mature Breton in burgundy and purple finery, retrieved the soiled wedge and proffered it with a grin of manic hospitality, "Blue Guar Brie?" Sudd wrinkled her nose and struggled against the sorcery compelling her to sit. Her legs were leaden. The peculiar fellow sampled the wedge before speaking around yellow mash, "I do so love me wines and cheeses. But this isn't a social visit! I am the owner of something you have, yet I am denied its recoverance. How sad." He noisily swallowed, awaiting her reply.

Sudd called the Grahtwood Middens home and recognized a shakedown. The gem in her palm was the last memory she had before this captive dinner theater. Without hesitation she tossed it on the table, "Here! Take the blasted thing!"

"There! I can't!" The host chortled with glee, then regret, "This Rain Stone must be bone dry before you can pass it on. It has enough juice for one last use. Would you, deary?"

Sudd's career had only begun, but she vowed to avoid sorcerers from thereon out. She retrieved the stone and agreed, "Fine." Just as Sudd activated the gems geometric Rune, Grunk went berserk. He tore his lower jaw wide with a terrible crack to bark a desperate, "WAIT--!" around a Gouda.

The last thing Sudd and Grunk saw was their host sheltering below a steel umbrella. Then the arrows fell.

*

"Well, that was easy. Most people at least ask what it rains." Sheogorath, Daedric Prince of Madness, couldn't help but grin as he fisted the long-lost toy. Its power would return in time. On a whim he dropped the Akavari assassin trap into a heavy sack at the campsite, then vanished.

Sharing is caring.

andre.roques.3b14_ESO

So, let me get this right?

We unleash a hail of arrows into an unsuspecting couple sending them both straight to oblivion...because you "had to have that amazing little green bag, that perfectly matches the newly dyed tunic and boots."

And you, FORGOT THE BAG!

Worse, you're just now are realizing this? It's only been a few months to hoof it half way across Tamriel since you had to sell our horses to pay for said tunic and boots.

***sigh***

Yes dear, I will go back and get the bag.

Scircin

We didn’t want to hurt anyone.

I hammered my fist down onto the wood, knocking the wine over the edge of the table. The bottleneck struck first. Red spewed onto the soil as the cork dislodged. Elliah’s eyes were fixated on the stream of wine, even as she spoke.

“Did you know…” she began.

“Hmm?” I said.

“Some say that red holds power”

I had heard this story every spring when the mountain flowers bloomed. Elliah and I would spend a whole afternoon lounging in the hillside meadows. Her hair would be down and she would smile at me sometimes. She always put red flowers in her hair and I always felt alive.

I watched the campfire burn while Elliah fetched the whiskey in her pack. It took three long gulps before my throat stopped screaming.

“Foul stuff,” I said.

Elliah smiled.

“Are you going to finish your story?” I asked.

“Maybe tomorrow.”

I remembered the wine bottle I knocked onto the ground. It still had a good swig or two in it when I picked it up. The bottle felt cold in my hand and my chest was tingling from the whiskey. I didn’t know what to do so I threw the bottle hard against the rocks. It shattered on impact.

I sat at the table with my back to Elliah and the fire. It was still burning brightly and the light made me dizzy. If Elliah was speaking, I wasn’t listening. I nibbled at the cheese we left out on the table and stared at my hand. The knuckles seemed to be healing right and the bruising had lessened. It was still sore but the whiskey helped me not to care.

“Do you think they’ll keep coming after us?” Elliah asked.

She sat down across from me and stared at the cheese in my hand. It tasted sour and my stomach couldn’t handle much more.

“I hope not,” I said.

“If we’re out here long enough, won’t they give up?”

“Sure they will, but we should move again tomorrow,” I said

“But I like it here, can’t we stay?”

“Sure we can.”

My stomach hurt.

DobbaDeuce

Journal of Shafod

14th of Second Seed, 2E 582

A feast followed by a bath of gold, we hit the big one today! Raanhard had the right idea following that fat merchant and his lazy cat companion into this valley. Sure, we couldn't have known that they were walking into an ambush, but we were due for a bit of luck after that mess in Sentinel. It was odd though that those bandits didn’t loot the carts after they attacked, just took their captives and ran. Raanhard says slavers, but they looked more like they were part of some cult to me. Doesn’t really matter anymore, their oversight just made us the two wealthiest men in Hammerfell. Now to see just how much we're sitting on.

IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII
IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII
IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII
IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII
IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII

Morwha’s ingrown toenail! It’s amazing how much gold that pompous oaf actually carried on him! There must be enough here for me to buy my own Ruby Throne! On top of that, there are these other sacks that are just full of gems, rubies, diamonds, sapphires, even ole Ronny struggled getting them all off the cart. And I did find my Ma’s dagger that Jollo filched from me stuck in a pot of stew. Disgusting man and a damn cheat, he deserves every bit of whatever those maniacs have planned for him.

Ah good, looks like Ronny found some more bottles for us to partake in as the sun goes down. I thought we cleaned everything out already, but maybe he found some more of the Breton’s wines, or the Khajiit’s secret stash. I hope it’s something hard, that apple stuff we just had makes me burp. Ha! he found one of the cat’s bows too, looks like a nice one. Can’t imagine someone of his size using a weapon like that, but he sure seems to be enjoying himself. Ah the selfish meathead! He’s drinking it all!

Wizard_Marshall

Lieutenant Korlock’s Log

Morndas, 12th day of Heartfire, 583

I’ll be glad to finally be off this island, with those accursed ruins behind us. Even if this was a secret mission from the Captain, I should've turned my squad around as soon as I saw the statue of Daedric Prince. I could feel the Daedric taint permeate this place like a suffocating bog. But the Captain said a weapon that could turn the war’s tide was hidden here, so I had to investigate, even if it went against my instincts.

Now, over half my men are either dead or thralls controlled by those damn Daedra. I had to put down Pergius, a man I've served two campaigns with, when his corpse rose up and tried to tear a chunk out of that rookie Kenren’s arm. Better that he go to the Divines’ side than be enslaved by the Daedra.

This whole mission has been a failure. How can I possibly face their families and tell them my men died for nothing?

Loredas, 17th day of Heartfire, 583

Fortunately, Kenren’s going to make it. Looks like the Divines are watching out for that lad. Best news I’ve had all week.

He’s had a ravenous appetite ever since his health returned, but I don’t blame him for being tired of Sillonius’ vegetable soup. I wouldn’t feed that crap to an Alit.

Tirdas, 2nd day of Frostfall, 583

Kahn’Dar died today. His neck had been shredded into a gaping maw. I told the men a Senche-tiger got him to allay their fears, but Kahn’Dar was one of my best rangers. A mere beast couldn't have gotten him. Besides, there was too much of his body left. He wasn't eaten by some ravenous beast; he was viciously murdered. I fear we may have brought something back from the island, and now it’s stalking us.

Kenren seems different, probably traumatized. Can’t say I blame him. First, the lad almost dies in a Daedra-infested ruin and now he’s lost his mentor.

Turdas, 12th day of Frostfall, 583

By the Divines! It was Kenren all along or rather that thing inside him. Some kind of Daedra had stealthily possessed him and patiently enslaved the others in the squad, whittling our numbers and strength away. I could’ve been next. Luckily, I got free and put Sillonius and Tharoth to rest with my bow.

I don’t know who to trust, or if I’ll be able to make it back home. I just pray that someone finds this log and stops Ke-

Lieutenant Elsinaer’s Log

Fredas, 13th day of Frostfall, 583

Today, we found a straggler covered head to toe in blood and gore. Poor kid’s probably been to Oblivion and back. I had a healer tend to his wounds. He wanted us to go back for his squad. Thinks they’re still alive. No idea if it’s the truth or not. Still, I have a duty to investigate. The straggler said his name was...

sagesourceb16_ESO

“Leave the cheese alone, stupid. It could be poisoned – or worse.”

“What's worse?”

“Cursed.”

“Who would curse a wedge of cheese?”

“You might not have time to answer that question if you eat it. And it's not right. Not natural. Look at the bodies. They're just bones. But that damned cheese still looks fresh. It's not what it seems to be.”

“I'm taking it with us, whatever you say.”

“Fine. Fine. Feed it to a dog and watch the dog go mad. Then you might believe me.”

“What's in that other bag? More cheese?”

“Let me see. Uh-oh. A couple of withered old cabbages and several spools of yarn. You know what that means, don't you?”

“That the deceased believed in a balanced diet and a stitch in time saves nine?”

“No, idiot. That they were messing around with what they shouldn't have touched. Those are offerings to the Madgod, Sheogorath.”

“Oh, rubbish. There's no altar near here. Only Pariah Chapel, and that's dedicated to Azura, not Sheogorath. I never heard that Azura was much for cheese.”

“The Queen of Dusk and Dawn isn't much for stupidity, either. You're a Dunmer. Go look in the mirror if you've forgotten what she does when you push her too far.”

“Now my feelings are hurt. That wasn't my fault. Even an orc should be able to figure that out.”

“Oh, leave it. Cheese and cabbage and yarn.... Sheogorath. Two skeletons with arrows in the head and the eyes, Sheogorath angry. Leave the cheese.”

“No. I like cheese.”

“I like being alive. Pissing off Daedric Princes is a good way to be not alive. Look at the two here. They tried something, or were going to try something, and then.... arrows. You don't jerk the Daedra around if you want to die a natural death.”

“Well, dying with arrows in each eye... and one in the crotch... is natural. Perfectly natural.”

“Have it your way. Don't expect me to carry back what's left and ship it off to your family, though.”

“You wouldn't anyway. You're too cheap.”

“Enough. There's no treasure here. Only a couple of long-deceased fools.”

“There's no danger here either. There is absolutely no danger. There is so little danger that I think I'm going to have some of this cheese. I'm hungry.”

“You're suicidal.”

“Actually, it tastes quite good. Very good. A little tingle of sharpness. Lucky you don't want any. Be wasted on an orc, this would be.”

“Hold it. Quiet. I think I hear something at the entrance..... No, nothing. No one's there at all.... oh, damn your eyes, you Dunmer dunce. Where have you gone all of a sudden?.... Right. It serves you bloody well right. Didn't I tell you?...Well, a rat. I guess I can carry a rat. But the first time you bite me or crap in my pocket, you're dead. All for a bite of cheese. Didn't I tell you the Daedra don't take kindly to being disrespected?”

Tiruviel

I hope I'm not too late, couldn't log in to the forum and had to contact support...

________________________________________________________________________

Their huntng expedition had been quite successful, to begin with. Lots of Guar and Alit hides and meat, some of which they traded for bread, cheese, beer and wine whenever they came upon a travelling merchant or an inn.

Lately though, as they continued their way south along the road, Jillian and her brothers Jack and John had come across less and less prey. Either there were other hunters in the area, or something had scared off the prey.

Reluctantly, they turned to banditry. While they did feel uncomfortable about it the first few times, they soon bedame used to the sense of anticipation building up whenever they spotted a traveller on the road.

The last nobleman had had a bodyguard with him, but that was no match for the three siblings - not until the mage showed up.
Jillian, who considered herself a master shot, had peppered him with arrows to keep him from casting spells. Eventually, she managed to kill him off, but not before he had cursed them all.

Jack, the greediest of the three, thoroughly searched the mage's body. Triumphantly, he held up a big gem, admiring all the colours that flashed inside of it.

'Get rid of that, it's probably cursed too!' Jillian sneered. Jack just stuck his tongue out at her and stuffed the gem inside his shirt. 'Calm down, little sister, I'm sure it's worth a fortune!'

As twilight approached, they pulled back to their camp. Jillian's brothers had constructed beds, chairs and even a table, and they all settled down for an evening meal.

Suddenly, Jack got up on his feet.

'Did you hear that?'

John and Jillian both listened intently, then shook their heads.

'What did you hear?' asked John.

'A voice - a voice talking to me, threatening me!' exlaimed Jack.

'Nobody threatens me!'

Grabbing his sword, Jack stalked off. John and Jillian looked at each other, and then shrugged.

'He's probably going nutters after all this time in the wilderness', said Jillian.

'Mhm', John agreed, his mouth filled with cheese and bread, polishing his sword.

Suddenly Jillian got up, bow and arrow at the ready.

'What was that?'

'What was - ' John began, but fell silent as he took an arrow in the head.

Looking around in panic, Jillian thought she could hear the mage laughing. The mage that she had killed earlier.

'Show yourself!' she yelled.

The only reply was a volley of arrows that pierced her body.
'Damn your greediness, Jack, should have left the gem alone!' was the last thought that ran through her mind as she fell to the ground.