Tales of the Dead - Contest Entry Thread

Dragonsoul

About three years ago, I was staying in a little town called Whiterun. At first, I was renting a room at The Bannered Mare until I could save up enough money to purchase a house of my own. Wouldn't you know it, a house opened up just after I earned enough to buy it. The house needed some work, but the price was right and I didn't have a bard singing all night while I was trying to sleep.

After a couple of weeks, some people picked the lock on my door and let themselves into my house. I peeked my head out of the bedroom door to get a look at them and see what they were up to. To my dismay, I seen that they had found what they were looking for. I couldn't believe my eyes as they grabbed my sweetroll and bolted out the door! After I was confident that they left, I immediately went to the guards to tell them what had happened. They just told me to quit loligaggin and some of them even mocked me by saying "Let me guess, somebody stole your sweetroll"... I could see that if anything was going to get done about it, I would have to do it myself.

It took me a while but I finally tracked them down to a camp near Lake Halcyon. When I found out where they were, I decided to make my move. I stood up straight and walked right into their camp to confront them about the incident. Alas, I was too late, it looked like someone wanted their sweetroll.

j.greenmanb16_ESO

Of Action and Consequence

This tale it begins with a wandering guar
Roaming the fields under the great morning star
Little did it know that it would cause a great ruckus
Little did it know how bad some peoples luck is

Meandering the fields, this guar was content
Until a blade of grass, into his nose it had bent
It tickled his nose, into his nostrils it had thrust
Than the guar did sneeze, creating a great gust

As the wind had traveled, its power grew stronger
Mile after mile, a storm it did conjure
Jostling the bushes and bending the trees
They now stood there, bearing no leaves

As the winds died down, they carried one leaf
And this bit of flora was 'bout to cause great grief
for as it floated down lower and lower
It would happen upon an old Khajiit bowyer

He was out looking for some pesky black crows
on which he could test out his brand new bows
And to the bowyers delight, he found them all still
feasting upon some others old kill

He readied his bow, with his arrow he took aim
And he had missed his marks! The leaf was to blame
For it had floated down near where the birds had all settled
And they did not see it coming, each one it had startled

Arrow after arrow, he shot in a hurry
Thanks to the leaf, the crows felt no fury
Angered and disheartened, he left in a fit
Retrieving not his arrows from the marks they did hit.

Not very far off, there was two elves
Who set up camp to restore themselves
Weary and tired, they traveled a long way
Little did they know this was to be their last day

The Altmer she was seated at their camp table
Drunk on wine, she could no longer sit stable
The other, a Wood Elf, stoking the camp fire
Getting his wet boots a fair bit drier.

Now the arrows loosed by the old khajiit bowyer
Flew into the camp to be the elves destroyer
The elf drunk one wine, she took one to the head
And from an an arrow to the eye, the other lied dead

Tis such a shame that these two innocents were slain
But at least they died quickly, they had felt no pain
And they drank on wine, eating cheese and grapes too
Before a pin cushion, their camp was made into

So dear traveler, please heed my words
Of sneezing guars, khajjit arrows, leaves and birds
For each had an influence that would spread some dread
And would eventually leave two innocent elves dead

For every action you make has an effect
So never let your whims go on unchecked
'Cause if you act hastily without second thought
Havoc and destruction will likely be wrought

Sunchill

Today children, I want to tell you the story of Torbald the Unlucky. Well now, Torbald was a simple man of Nordic origins, but he longed for the excitement of the adventurer’s life. He traveled south from his home in Morthal, ready for all the wonders the world might hold. He might have gotten a little turned around along the way, however, because it was weeks before he finally found a town. Upon stumbling into the inn, he found before him the most enrapturing beauty. Her name was Martha, and she was the innkeeper’s daughter. All his lofty plans of adventurer flew out the window as he became determined to woo this beautiful woman. Asking around town, he learned that she loved cheese. So, the would-be adventurer set off on a quest for the very best cheeses. He spent many days looking, but could not find a single slice. Then, out of nowhere, he stumbled upon a rock slab that was ladened with cheese! There was some strange statue there too but Torbald didn’t really pay it any mind. 

Upon returning to town, Torbald set up the most marvelous picnic for he and Martha to share. He had candles, wine, and of course the cheese- the whole shebang. When Martha arrived, she was positively glowing. Torbald could tell that this was going to be an excellent night. But as they sat down to eat a sudden rumbling sound echoed through the clearing and a rain of arrows fell from the sky. As the couple fell to the ground a fearsome cry rang out.

“I found ye, Cheese-thief!” 

Apparently, Sheogorath does not like to share his cheese. And thus ends the sad tale of Martha and (Blank). Let that be a lesson to you children, never take cheese that isn’t yours. You never know who it may belong to. 

Sighlynce

Last entries of Aveder Gavvus's Journal
Last Seed, 09, 582
At last. The journey has been a long and arduous one, at times one I thought would never end. The Redgaurd, Rhortan , has been a true friend and a welcome companion. Ah, that stern look he gives me when I refer to him as The Redgaurd ! He says to me 'Do I refer to you as The Breton? Can they not see I am a Redgaurd? My name man is Rhortan and it is thus I shall be referred.' In jest I tell him, all in jest ! A true warrior he is. An honorable man.
It seems a lifetime ago when this journey was started. A lifetime ago when I received the letter. An uncle, I knew him not, had passed and left a parcel of land and other belongings to me. Of noble birth he was and as of now my favorite uncle! The long wars and far travels have aged my friend and myself . Brothers in arms are we. Each of us have spent our life's blood in defense of the other. The lands we have defended run red with our being . The rotting corps of the Daedra and ruins of the Dark Anchors we have destroyed lay in our wake. We truly have given all. And only if our bodies were not held together by scars and prayers there would be more to give. But alas our broken bodies will not sustain us through another battle . The journey here was filled with the rumor of more war. The Daggerfall Covenant has sworn to restore the Second Empire and return peace and stability to Tamriel. A just cause. A just war. For this broken body, a whisper of leave for battle.Our journeys have formed us into honorable men, men if integrity and purpose but also men without roots. Men without family. This land is truly a gift The eight Divines surly have smiled upon me.
Last Seed, 10,582
I was out earlier this morn and saw some lads fulfilling their duties to The Covenant by joining the campaign. Training will soon begin and the air will be filled with the sounds of mock battle and the swoosh of arrows .

On the morrow , I celebrate Koomu Alezer'i with Rhortan . A feast of Thanksgiving . Later today we will venture into the nearby town and collect supplies and if The Divines decide to be gracious, perhaps companionship for each of us.. After all what is a feast without the witty charm and arousing aroma of of the fairer sex?

The Divines be praised! The feast on the morrow will be one of great food, aged wine , laughter, dancing and the winsomeness of Lady Astiira and Lady Julna. Truly I am giddy with anticipation ! Like a lad on his first hunt, neither Rhorton nor myself can quit smiling! Its like a weight has been lifted and a veil opened. A life. Two lives. A beginning for two war weary soldiers , a rest deserved, the beginning of a life we have witnessed but never been privy to. On our way back we noticed the soldiers building a practice arena near our camp. I will greet them when I wake and make them aware of our presence. It would not do to have them firing upon us ! I had to laugh at the thought of Rhortan and I surviving the very devils own demons only to be killed by some lad who can't string a bow let a lone wield a sword ! Ah but that is on the morrow, tonight we fill our bellies with wine and cheese. Talk of our adventures laugh at our shortcomings and then rest. For our new lives start on the morrow . Well deserved and much anticipated.

wafffllesss

I'm from Brazil, I can't participate -cries-

Aldmera

This 28th of Last Seed marks the 1st anniversary of the day that I TRULY began to hate bandits.
I am stopping by the remains of the campsite on my way back home from the Harvest End markets. Anything that would have marked the existence of the fine silken tent of Father’s is gone, yet the arrows sit stubbornly in Brother’s eye sockets, and Father remains seated in his favorite chair. As the priests of Arkay refuse to step upon this region, burial does seem useless. Leaving them segments of their favorite cheese and a container of wine they bottled just a few days before the attack, as well as lighting some candles in remembrance, the scene looks a bit necromantic. Yet, I think they would be proud to know how Mother and I have kept the homestead going in their absence.
Most of what Father had purchased on the trip they made to the markets that fateful year had been scavenged just as soon as they were dead, making it hard for us to survive through to the next year’s South Winds Prayer Day. For some reason, perhaps some unspoken rule, the scavengers left them that last sack untouched and I cannot take it either. There is this overwhelming feeling when approaching it that it is full of the presents they will never gift to us, and I could never appreciate them now knowing where they came from, knowing I could never thank Brother or Father for thinking of me as he made his way through those crowded, confusing and exciting markets, that, only now they are gone, I have been able to experience for myself.
Bandits stopped waiting to ambush anyone since then and now follow folk they saw buy valuable items toward their homes. Today I know they follow me, so I should be going, now that I have given them sufficient time to catch up. I noticed there is this nice loop to the top of the cliffs that if I go up quickly enough I will have the perfect shot and cover as they go past on the road looking to overtake me.
Huh. Probably about the same place the others shot Father and Brother from back then.
How fitting.

Searic

3 Breton Thieves

3 Breton thieves sat by a campfire, with coin purses full and food on their plates. A successful heist involving an Altmer mansion resulted in a fine meal of cheese, grapes, and wine, along with the finest bows crafted by Orc blacksmiths. The youngest of the Bretons, Fulton, was fascinated by the Orcish bows. He would not touch any food, nor drink any wine, only obsess over the engraved shafts and the taught strings. Eagerly he ran off with a bow and quiver full of arrow. Shouts from behind threatened to consume his share of the food. He neither cared nor listened, only continued up the hill illuminated by moonlight. Drawing back the string, he released arrow after arrow into the night sky, loosing sight of them within seconds, until his quiver was empty.

He returned to his camp and enjoyed a full meal.

Conarchcplb14_ESO

Entry 1
Mort and I were at the pub in town today and saw a robed man sneak off into the forest with a package and return later empty handed. Mort looked at me with a hungry gleam in his eyes and we went searching but couldn't find the package anywhere.
Entry 2
Saw the robed man again today with another package, Mort wasn't around so I tried to follow him alone. Lost him a decent way into the woods but I think I found a place for Mort and I to ambush him next time.
Entry 3
*handwriting smudged* Well.. the ambush worked. We got the jump on the robed man while he still had the package. I snuck up behind him while Mort dropped from a tree in front. The package must have been filled with a weapon or something.. I heard the man scream some crazy words, saw a flash and all I could smell was burning flesh. I woke up hours later and could hardly see. Writing this was nearly impossible! I found Mort but he hasn't woken up yet, his arm feels funny and looks really pale. I wonder what the spell was, I hardly have the strength to move anymore.
Entry 4
*handwriting more smudged* Still can’t see more than a fingers breadth in front of me.. Mort just keeps ranting ‘we are dead, we are dead’ over and over. I don’t know what’s gotten into him but we must have been out here for days now. I have had this gnawing hunger ever since we ran into that robed man! From what I can see of Mort he looks like a bag of bones, I can’t imagine I look any better.
Entry 5
*hardly legible* I feel soooo hungry……sounds like some people have set up a camp nearby.. they must have food! Mort and I spent the day working our way towards the noise. I took forever to get close. We will try to plead with them for help in the morning. Well I will plead, Mort has stopped his ranting.. but now his teeth just keep chattering together. I may kill him myself if he doesn't shut up soon.
Entry 6
*scribbled* …as soon as we approached everyone started screaming and ran off.. sounded like they shot some arrows at us and I thought I got hit in the head but didn't feel much so it must not be bad. Will worry about it after I eat. Mort grabbed a piece of cheese and immediately fell down asleep, I hope. Couldn't see if he got hit with too many arrows… with all this food in front of me I think I can finally rest …I hope help comes soon.

Teh_Tee

"Hmmph.. Adventurers and their adventures" muttered the bandit leader. His voice was muffled slightly by a mask that covered the lower half of his face. The rest of the men stretched out behind him in a twisted line, moving through the forest like a writhing serpent. All were armed with bows, and swords, and all were clad in a leather armor. They made not a sound as they slunk through the forest drawing closer to their target.

A small camp lay just beyond the forest borders. A group of three men, eating, drinking and talking loudly of their latest adventure into an abandoned mine. The sounds of three men's voices laughing and talking rang through the night air just as lightning impaled the sky. It's dazzling brilliance lit up the area for yards blinding all three men. One of the men grasped both hands over his eyes just as thunder rumbled so hard that it seemed to split the ground around him with a deafening clap and roar. The ground shook so fiercely that the young man swore he felt something give out in his knee. As his sight returned he managed to catch a glimpse of a horrific sight. Both of his friends were slumped over the table, long shafts of deadly arrows protruding from their bodies. His first reaction was to stand, yet as he did so his knee gave way. He reached out a hand to grab hold of a chair, but the pain was too great, and he fell, knocking the chair backwards and spilling the corpse of his poor friend backwards and out of his seat.

"Go to college...pfft earn a living" mumbled the bandit leader as he and his friends loosed a second volley of arrows into the camp. Lightning struck yet again as the sky suddenly seemed to to simply descend upon the scene. Rain and hail cascaded down and almost with perfect timing as the booming crash of thunder drowned out the screaming of the third and last adventurer in the once merry camp, now littered by deadly arrows.

The storm was too much for the attackers and the deluge forced them to slink away into the night. Behind them lay two bodies punctured with arrows, while a third figure struggled in the mud, a lone arrow plunged deep into his knee.

Saucy_Jack

Alazarr frowned at his food and then squinted across the table at his companion.

"You realize I trust you less than the savages in Toothmaul Gully."

Culner smirked. "I realize."

The Altmer and Bosmer were sitting down to a meal at their camp, having just raided the goblin clan. By a combination of the high elf's sorcery, the wood elf's stealth, and a rather sizable streak of luck, they had managed to escape mostly unscathed with quite a respectable amount of treasure in tow. As all adventuring contracts start out, it had been agreed to split any gains down the middle; as most adventuring contracts end, each saw the middle as somewhat less than what they really deserved.

Alazarr again looked down at the food Culner had set before him, knowing for a fact the Bosmer had poisoned it. He shook his head. "No thanks," he said, pushing the plate away. "I'll get something to eat back in town." He began to get up, but immediately doubled over in his chair from the excruciating pain that had suddenly begun ravaging his insides. He stared wide-eyed at Culner.

The Bosmer smiled. "Surely you didn't think I would rest the chance of your death on whether you ate that food or not? I'm a master of stealth, you know. Nicking your side with a poisoned blade during the fight without you noticing was no trouble at all." Culner started to laugh, but dropped to the ground screaming when his skin started to boil all over his body.

"I'm...master of magic, you know" gasped Alazarr from his chair with a weak chuckle. "Poison enchantments...your armour...during fight...without...noticing ...no trouble at all."

As both lay dying, the remaining denizens of Toothmaul Gully came across them, having tracked them since their earlier escape. As it turns out, neither goblins nor their arrows are much concerned with the details of adventuring contracts.

Dovel

The warm summer air carried with it the fragrances of Rivenspire. It drifted over the fields, and along the hillsides. It moved without intent or will, but rather with a casual ease most beings lacked. When it reached the Vale of Silverhoof it had gathered much of the scents of the hill country. And when it found the drifter it touched him as it touched many others before it moved on and continued south.

The drifter had entered the Vale at sunrise. He had walked the edges of the rocky slopes most of the day. Picking through the rocks, looking for what scraps he may find. He carried with him a collection of bits that others had cast away. Tokens used and then discarded. Many broken, chipped, and considered rubbish. But to the drifter they were treasures to be cherished.

It was almost nightfall when he came upon the old campsite. He found the inhabitants, long dead. Their bones gleamed through the rags that still clung to their frames and the arrows that had sealed their fate. The drifter walked among the dead and what was left of their possessions that lie scattered about. His dark eyes spied pieces of armor. A buckles, a clasp, a metal pin that might have once held a belt in place. All of these things he collected and placed in the old rucksack he carried as his heart raced with excitement at the trove of abandoned wealth he had found.

His dirt stained hands stopped when his dark eyes cast upon the food that rested upon a wooden table that had seen better days. And though everything else had been left to the crows, the dead included, the food remained fresh and appealing.

"What's this?" he asked, but only the birds that rustled their feathers on the rocks above were there to hear. "I've never saw this before."

It had been days since he had eaten well. Days since his stomach had anything but tepid water and old bread to fill it. Quickly he moved to the table to claim his prize. But as his hand reached to claim what his stomach demanded he felt a shiver come over him. A chill that touched him to his soul. As if something had suddenly taken all the warmth of life from world around him.

The drifter stepped back. His eyes, full of fear, glanced from the food to those that lie dead. "Please, forgive me. I didn't know it was yours. I wasn't going to take it. I swear!"

Quickly the drifter opened his old bags and poured out the treasures he had collected only moments before. Even a few of the items he had found earlier in the day dropped to lay upon the ground.

"I am going. Yes, going," he whispered to the dead. But before he left he made a sign. An ancient gesture formed with his hands as if to ward off an evil that might befall him. "May Stendarr have mercy on your souls."

Then with hurried steps the drifter took to the path that lead away from the camp and out of the Vale.

Senlui

On a blood-stained note clutched in the hand of a third skeleton,

“Traveller take heed. Flee now before they come for you. Flee as I have done.

Weary were we, far from the place we once called home. Driven out by men with swords and torches, my brothers and I took what few belongings we could carry and fled to find a place the fighting was not.

Our meagre rations ran out after two weeks. With the invaders making their way from village to village, we avoided the paths that took us near any ransacked steads and farms. Hunger began to bare its teeth after a short while. We foraged for berries and roots, eating what we could find along the tracks and trails.

It was the day I was considering boiling my own boots to make a stew that we came across the camp. Fresh grapes, bread, cheese, and wine were laid on a table before us. I knew we should have carried on, I tried to warn them. But Garret ran ahead, weak with hunger. As he gorged himself on bread, Swain joined him, grabbing a hunk of cheese. Something told me to stay away. Someone would be near. This was not our meal to take.

Not touching anything from that table, I began to break down some crates, and set about making a camp fire. If we were going to remain here, we should at least try to find some comfort. Swain and Garret joked and laughed about their good fortune, whilst I urged them to be quiet. We did not know whose camp it was, nor if they were friendly. In times such as these, I doubted they were.

It was whilst I went to fill the water skins that I heard the screaming begin. Shame on me, I hid.

The lads didn’t stand a chance. It was all over in seconds. I think Garret died instantly. What strength these archers had, to shoot an arrow straight through a man’s skull. Swain tried to get away, but they got him too. I could hear his moans as he lay on the ground dying.

They spoke in a guttural tongue, rough hoods covering their faces. After the killing was done, they swept the camp before stooping over the bodies of my brothers. I thought they were frisking them for anything valuable. They stole their clothing.

Gods, I cannot remove from my mind the horrors that I witnessed next.

They peeled the flesh from their still warm bodies. They butchered my brothers like animals. One of them lifted a strip of raw meat to his mouth and began to chew. I swear he looked straight at me as he ate.

I ran. I ran for my life. Gods, don’t let them find me!

Traveller, flee. Flee now and touch nothing at that table. For that meal may be your last.”

EllZed

A mad game

We had camped for a second time after arriving to this wretched desert of Elsweyr. Not that I like being anywhere in the Arena, but at least walking in the forest of Valenwood reminded me of my strolls in wondrous mushroom-tree forests of Mania. My scales are too sensitive for this kind of temperature. I think I will go mad if we stay much longer in this place.

What was the score again…? Yes, yes, 136. Not sure if our competitors are doing any better, but 136 doesn’t sound much. I am sure that these Bosmer aren’t the highest quality of archers Bliss could offer. And that, what his name again… ah Fimmion, yes, always mumbling about the food! If it was up to him we would be having only sweetrolls for food. Good thing that Rendil proved to be a better cook than what you would have expected for a Dummer. And he knows his herbs as well, if not for his insane insistence of adding that purple Aster Bloom substance in every meal. He says is to protect us from the evil spirits, but I think the only effect is to make the food taste bitter. Maybe next time I should give him some Felldew instead…

I am not sure why the Duke would have me send away from the Palace on this mission. Keeping the score of this game is so much inferior to my skills. Even that crazy old fool Uungor could do it. Why send me here with this lazy bunch of Wood Elves. They think they are doing so well, that they keep carving the name of their city on the arrows to take pride for the kills. Fools, they don't realise that if we go on killing in this pace we won’t even get to 200 before we are summoned back. Truth is that the lack of proper roads didn’t help us get a higher score so far. Perhaps if we stay close to the roads here we can do better. We might come across some caravans, and add some more points.

Sheogorath preserve us from Lord Thadon’s temper if the Duchess’s team returns with a better score.

SteenBelhage

Twang.
Plok!
”Eh-yess... maybe a little more to the right next time, no?” the lisping tongue of a Khajiit broke the otherwise peaceful quiet of night, the twang of his bow and the blunt thud of arrows upon wood being something often heard by hunters when they miss their prey and strike a tree instead. But his prey wasn't missing, nor was he a hunter, this one... sort of. The slits of his narrow eyes dilated in the darkness, the shadows no challenge for keen eyes like his. In the brisk, cold winds of a starry night, he needed only the silver glow of the moon to stalk his prey. Thankfully, prey like this was no challenge to hunt. Especially when it was already dead.
“This one counts his fortunes that it found a table with a dead man on...” a wry smile crept over his wide, feline lips, and his gaze moved away from the skeleton at the table, and all the stale, withered food “...And so should you.”
The man that paced by his side seemed less so joyful about the whole thing. Nervous eyes darted around to the shadows, to all of the forest around them, and his skin prickled and shivered under the nightly gusts. It was hard to tell in the darkness that he was a Redguard, in the same way it was hard to find any bravery through the cracking, frightened voice of his.
“This is bad... bad, Dar'Kharjin. Firing arrows on the dead won't exactly win us their favor. What if they come back to haunt us? I didn't smuggle you into Glenumbra to be rewarded with years of sleepless nights, you know.”
Twang.
Crack!
“Calm now, little man.” the Khajiit spoke with guile in his voice as he fired another arrow, this one breaking right through the skull of the lonely skeleton “A few more arrows and you can go home, yes? This one would have come here, fired an arrow in this man's skull and left, but this one does not think Orcs are so... precise. Authenticity, my little friend. If this is supposed to look like Orcs having butchered this little Redguard, then this one cannot fire like Khajiit. When it comes to inciting distrust between these two people, there can be no space for laze, my little friend.”
Sadly, the Redguard didn't seem convinced. He quickly shook his head, his face painted thickly with worry and fear “No no no, this won't work. I'm sorry, Dar'Kharjin, but you're not paying me enough for this. You're on your own!” he quickly turned around to leave, but felt a sudden grip around his throat, before being hurled to the ground. His head smacked against a stone, the world spun, and he would call for help if the Khajiit hadn't put a boot to his adam's apple.
“Bad idea, little man. It seems now that the Orcs in fact killed two Redguards. Tragic... but it happens. So long, my friend.”
Twang.
Crack!

little_wolf112_ESO

One bright day in the middle of a candle lit night,
two gorged men sat down for a bite,
side by side they ate together,
threw their cheese and shot each other,
a Daggerfall guard smelt the dairy,
and came to drink the wine of berry,
upon seeing the men's demise,
the soldier shot one in the eyes.
if you don't believe this lie is true,
ask M'aiq he saw it too.

ultimatewatergodub17_ESO

Middas, 21st of Rain's Hand

My colleague Valera has been exiled from the mages guild for stealing from Sheogorath. Ha! those fools will soon be begging us to rejoin them when we barter what we have for power from him. They said dealing with the Daedric prince of madness could only end in disaster, but they never stole some of his prized cheese.
We brought some basic supplies for dealing with bandits and the like, but they are the least of my concern. Valera assures me Sheogorath did not realize it was us that stole it. I hope she is right.

(There appears to be a second journal entry not dated and written with haste)

The arrows fly as if possesed, we should have listened. I sit here, pen in hand, bleeding out slowly. I write this in the only ink I have: my own blood. The daedric lord knew all along and he made us decide who would die first. He is letting me live until he finishes his meal. He said he loves the sounds of screams while he eats.
He is finished and coming my way, Mara help me.

venator1

6 days. 6 days of fighting. 6 days without laying down arms against an onslaught of bandits. Geidenvur fled to seek help on the second day. Only the Eight know if he made it, but now the fight is over, i don't think he will return. Become one with Nirn brother. I and Krangesh are the last. We are broken. Krangesh's leg's are torn and I am paralyzed and stuck in this forsaken chair. All we can do wait, eat like it is our last day and pray for help. I told Krangesh he must try and hide the plunder, i will not allow anyone to steal my family's fortune.

A figure approaches. Veiled and mysterious. With one swift action he executed Krangesh. This is my end. We exchanged words awhile. I finally recognize the voice. I finally see the grand scheme that had been unwound.

He signal's to his last remaining assassis's.

aqulinox

If only I could show you the places I have seen, you might understand the things I say.
I have been to the desolate lands, wandered by those souls who still see the lands of the living but wear the cloak of the dead.
Blind to their own ends, they cry, passing through one another like shadows in the dying light of day.
I have travelled to where souls rot in torment, pierced with the jagged shards of life and vision, clinging to memory - regrets of the flesh.
I saw that this prison was of their own making, and that the key was in unknowing, in release... and still, I travelled on.
And finally, I came to the place where souls go to die. Where the mirrored and worn spirits fall into an endless sea of grey,
mirrored glass... and I lowered myself within... and lay among them...
And do you know what I found there? There, among the silent and battered shells of the innumerable? Peace. Enlightenment. Truth.
Only then I realized that this place, this "Life", is an abomination, a horrible distortion of the natural order.
This "Life", who mothered Pain, and Fear, and Envy - these twisted children who exist only because we are here to feed them, to nourish them.
This "Life", this... afterthought - a disturbance, a mere ripple in that great, dead sea, not even the cause, but merely an effect,
sending these souls upwards, screaming for release from the day they are torn from their waters! The effect of what!
I do not know. Nor do I care.
Envy would define and shape my fate.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness...
I had signed an agreement and so had he. But that piece of paper was a mere formality, no more binding than a handshake. Or so I thought.
Many books require no thought from those who read them, and for a very simple reason; they made no such demand upon those who wrote them.
This was such a Book and I was to bring It to him.
He said: "It is a book to kill time for those who like it better dead.".
The Book was said to hold truths; truths that reach not only our world, but planes further beyond.
And he who opened his mind to these secrets could ,so easily, be conscious of the true meaning of Time.
Be that as it may, I did not realize the literal meaning of his words... when I took the job.
I was just an "intercessor", my job was to go to the location, "borrow" the Book and bring it to it's destination.
And it was at this moment of the "exchange" it appeared. This ragged, faded apparition showed me visions of power, what one could accomplish after leafing through It.
Minds, like bodies, will often fall into an ill-conditioned state when faced with such quandary.
And as it disappeared gradually, I decided!
To defy him and his agreement. With all this power, deceiving one little "mortal" would be child's play.
But I was not thinking more clearly than a newborn.
I had to share it with someone, and who better than my childhood friend and occasional "business" associate.
Thus, with clouded and drunk minds we started celebrating the upcoming age of blossom and prime.
And then we heard it. And then we saw it. That black cloud ,whistling through the air, falling towards us. It was too late...And all for what.
I do not know. Nor do I care.

I know i won't get anything out of this as i come from the far realm of Greece, but damn i had to share this.

EruEarendel

Tales of the dead

Two friends were just sitting together and eating
Some grapes and some cheese from a barrel in Betnikh
The one was a Nord,the other was Breton
The Nord was a Dragonknight,the Breton was Templar
The night was dark so they lighted three candles
To be more romantic while drinking their wines
They laughed with Hagraven's of how they look like
They laughed with Kagouti's of how they walk by
They had so much fun,that was their best night
It seemed like nothing,could put down their smile.
But while they were sitting together and drinking
A heavy sack spawned,which one should loot it?
They looked at each other with fearsome eyes
They both wanted Garnet,Sapphire and Quartz
or maybe Jejota Denata or Ta?
The Nord was ready for his Dragon Leap
The Breton was ready to spam Blazing shield
But while they were ready to start up the fight
There was a Khajiit That was walking by
This one saw the Heavy Sack and he turned Crazy
This one has Stealthy, Robust and Carnage
This one has Volley With Long Shots and Hawk Eye"
"It should do the work" he thought in his mind
He used Arrow Barrage and critical striked
This poor Nord and Breton was sure that they died...
Khajiit came near the shack and pressed "E"
"Again just a Sardonyx? I am just gonna leave"

x99Needles

Three suns had fallen since I had started following them, and my patience was enduring less than the ache in my muscles. I lost them for a short while outside of Riften, and cursing my sloppiness I had finally made up my mishap. The constant moving and running, sleepless moons and finally I would be upon them tonight. I was anticipating every moment leading to the time I would strike.

I followed the tracks left by their horses, and if I was an excellent judge, and I was, they were no more than a few hours ahead of me. Soon they would stop to rest, water the horses and let themselves relax, oblivious to the coming events.

As the sun started to close her eyes, and the stars awoke in the clear skies the shadows embraced me as I watched them upon a ridge above their encampment. My eyes thinning with a smile. Their goods were off the wagon and the horses tied down by the river. The two men sat lavishing themselves at a table set for a king, their goblets full of ale, they laughed and cheered a fire roaring beside them. I didn't know why their names had been marked, I never did, and it never mattered. The contract was sealed in blood and the Night Mother would be satisfied as was my sacred oath.

I drew my bow slinging an arrow from my quiver effortlessly silent. I released her with grace and accuracy she met the side of her target's skull with a thud and the man's arms fell limp immediately. I imagine his companion would have cried out if he had been granted the choice. My second shot found her home inside his right eye and he fell backwards in his chair. My objectives were dead, and my contract fulfilled.

However discretion is the mark of a true artist. This area was known for bandit patrols, this would be easily disguised as nothing more than another innocent victims slaughtered at the hands of merciless brutes. After releasing the horses as they deserved no such fate as their unfortunate masters, I saw to the scene. I smashed all their goods scattering the stage and let loose a volley of arrows to make it seem as though they were ambushed without a chance by a number of men. The fire attempting to give warmth to the grim sight would see to itself.

I walked over to the table beside the seated man, his eyes were agape with a cold void. I broke off a single grape and helped myself. Admiring my work I was about to turn away when I saw the candles on the table had gone out. I waved my hand over them whispering a tiny incantation and flames appeared. Eternal flames to keep the scene vivid, a small trick I picked up at the guild as a child once upon a time. I looked into the dead man's eyes, "Something to remember me by."

shadelet

5th Heartfire, Cheesemonger’s Hollow

My dearest sister,

I hope this reaches you, but honestly, He swore it was the best cheese He had ever tasted AND He promised you’d get the letter while you were still alive and could understand it. Said his assistant would write it. Sorry. It was the best I could do. And He said the letter made him laugh. Said He couldn’t believe I was still afraid of you after I was dead. I said if you were his sister, He’d be scared too. Sorry again if that causes a problem. I know, I know, I don’t think. In my defense, a dead person doesn’t have a lot of choices. Not like I can hold a pen.

Anyway, I need you to know this was NOT MY FAULT. Not my idea. Yes, I agreed to cater the event, a little, rustic anniversary dinner for two. The money was good, very good. They wanted only the best, but they wanted it to seem primitive. I had imported smoked fish, those fancy candied flowers on ice, and didn’t those cost. I had, with my own hands, made iced snowberry parfait. I had selected the rarest delicacies from every nation. There were flowers from all over Tamriel, blooms from every mountaintop and remote lake, and all manner of pretty shells for decoration. There were hangings too, and imported rugs from Hammerfell.

Oh tree sap, stop grinding your teeth, I can hear you from here, and I don’t have ears any more.

There were to be no servants. I was to have it all prepared, as if by Nereids, or some such thing, are those even real? And it had to be done twice, the first time for a cousin, or something. I was never clear on his exact relationship, but he was or claimed to be an expert on foods and wines and presentations. He was sworn to secrecy, lest the anniversary couple hear even a whisper of the celebration.

Just between us, my dear, if being an expert means you can empty a barrel of wine into yourself, and then yes, Gaiis Aras Pavir was an expert. He was also insufferable, annoying, and would have served the world better as a nursery for wasp babies.

For the tasting, I kept it simple, just the foods and wines, but…well, the impossible. Arrows came out of nowhere. Most of them hit Parvir, and you know, I had time to rejoice, but then, then I was dead myself and standing over my own body in utter bewilderment.

But at least they did not make a mess of my food, or my table.

Your loving brother,

Marsis

Oh, and one more thing, He might be taking me onto his staff to find and make new and rare cheeses, so maybe you can be proud of me yet.

Kahli Astarte

“Are you sure this is a good plan?” Bakiska asked for the sixth time as Aeliron scanned the rocky cliffs.

“Of course it is,” the Altmer snorted derisively. “I keep their leader busy while you get into position. Stick an arrow in him, and the treasure will all be ours. He’ll likely have a similar plan, so watch your tail.”

“Bakiska thinks it may be better to play it fair. We take the gold, let him take the cursed diamonds.”

Aeliron rolled his eyes. “You’ve been against our little alliance from the start. If I would’ve known robbing some cat priests would turn you into a superstitious, mewling kitten, I would’ve chosen Bowenias as my second.”

Bakiska’s tail lashed angrily, but cut off her retort as a fox-faced Breton moved to take a seat at the table at the base of the cliff. Aeliron wordlessly smirked to Bakiska as he stepped from his hiding place to cross the glade, taking a seat across the table.

“How nice of you to join me,” the man greeted Aeliron, his eyes cold even as he gestured to the food on the table. “Come, share a drink?”

“Do you think me foolish enough to take any fares you supplied, Garenas, when thousands of gold are on the line?” Aeliron sneered.

Garenas barked a laugh. “Your caution does you credit as a fellow bandit leader. Straight to the treasure, then.”

“I want the diamonds,” Aeliron declared. “Take everything else, but the diamonds are mine.”

“Funny,” Garenas mused as he leaned back, sipping from a bottle of wine. “I was going to make you the same offer.”

“I made the offer first,” the Altmer shrugged, “but I suppose it doesn’t matter in the long run. They will be mine.”

“My sentiments exactly,” Garenas grinned, then gestured toward the cliffs. The Breton’s look of triumph changed to shock, however, as a white-fletched arrow drove into his temple. He slumped in his seat, the bottle sliding from his hand.

Aeliron grinned, exulting in the job well done, until another arrow, dyed with Bakiska’s traditional gray, slammed into the table beside him. His blood ran cold as more arrows struck the ground around him, placed perfectly to create absolute terror. He stumbled backwards, overturning the chair, as the numbness of betrayal filled his veins. “Bakiska?”

“You brought this on yourself,” he heard her growl. He fearfully looked toward her voice and saw the two gray arrows flying for his eyes, before his world went black.



Bakiska watched the other Khajiit enter the glade, a white-fletched arrow ready on his bow. “We split the gold,” she said firmly.

He wordlessly nodded as he smashed open the crate and barrel next to the table, letting the gold pour out. As they each gathered their share, both Khajiits knew better than to touch the heavy sack containing the cursed Dark Moons Diamonds. Neither glanced back at their fallen leaders, who had paid the price for not listening to Khajiiti legends.

Fair_Astrea

It began simply enough – Crassh Gro-Morebeard and I had the idea to set up a base camp for hunting in this beautiful and serene meadow. As summers passed, and we used the meadow more and more it slowly began to grow into a homestead. First, Crassh, being the strong and intrepid Orc that he was, brought out a table he had made, and chairs for us. The tent was replaced by a cozy cabin (you can see the path by the rock) and then eventually we brought a goat or two and some chickens for company. We lived happily every summer out in the wilderness away from the madness of Elden Root.

Then, we heard that Queen Ayrenn was coming to Elden Root to be crowned. Crassh and I made the decision to escape and live out here permanently ... oh what? You are offended that a beautiful Bosmer like myself would be in love with an Orc? But Crassh wasn’t just another pretty face! His was a noble family of warriors, loyal to their King, but his family was slain by the Bloodthorn cultists. He was captured and enslaved, and that is how I came to meet this noble Orc! You must understand that I am a loyal servant to Queen Ayrenn and have worked closely with that wily Khajiit, Razum-Dar, even becoming a member of her elite corps, “Eyes of the Queen”! Indeed that is how I first met Crassh! Razum-Dar and I rescued Crassh when over-throwing that foul traitor whose name shall not pass these lips...Crassh was so sick and needed much healing and that is when I discovered that I had a talent for healing. And, even warriors tire and long for rest.

We spent many happy hours hunting here and woodworking together. Our reputation as weapon-makers began to spread across Valenwood...And then, the unthinkable happened! Our beautiful meadow was overrun by Daedras, and those damned archers who were with them caught us off guard whilst we were feasting on a sumptuous repast of cheese, wine, bread and grapes. And, there lies my beautiful Crassh and here is me, a hungry skeleton doomed to look at food frozen in time, unable to eat or drink again...oh the misery of looking at those beautiful grapes, glistening in the sunshine with an arrow sticking out of my head...Oh, Curse Molag Bal!

Be wary, Fair Traveler, of the feast on that table. Should you reach for it, you will be ensnared as we are!

You could help us, Oh hapless wanderer...if you could but break the wards surrounding our meadow then our spirits would be freed. ...Please, noble passerby, I see that you are a talented and handsome mage...May the Divines bless you! Your bravery will not go unrewarded! For freeing our spirits, please accept this beautiful, enchanted Oak bow (level 72, precise) and 130 gold!

DaggerfallGirl

17th of First Seed, The Second Era

Issik and I have finally reached the antechamber. Our breath is like vapor and our limbs move leadenly as the chamber is covered in hoarfrost. The cold does nothing to dispel the odor of death and decay that hangs in the air like thick smoke. I hate this place, but no one dares to cross Sheogorath. I can only imagine what endless tortures the Mad God would devise for us if we fail him in this ridiculous quest!

20th of First Seed, The Second Era

Success! Issik and I found the relic Sheogorath sent us into that labyrinth of puzzles to recover. I couldn’t believe my eyes when we pried open the urn where the relic laid. It’s a fork! A fork!
Sheogorath appeared to us, snatched the fork (I still can’t believe it’s a fork) and cradled it in his arms as if it were his suckling child. He thanked us for finding his…relic and invited us to a special feast to celebrate. I have a bad feeling about this.

21st of First Seed, The Second Era

Issik and I found a tunnel that led out of the delve and the Mad God had a set a table for us that had our mouths watering in anticipation. The finest wine, succulent grapes and a surprising amount of cheese greeted our eyes.

As I write this final journal entry, our bellies are full and our hearts are lighter now that the task is complete. Our gold is in a heavy sack nearby. Issik leans back in his chair, his arm resting over a stack of books with titles like “Gambolpuddy” and “The Fine Art Of Cheesemongering”.

I lean forward amused, to ask Issik to open one of the books when I hear a high-pitched whistle close to my ear. Issik doesn’t even have time to cry out as the arrow pierces him! I stumble back from the table, startled by the unexpected violence.

More whistles and I feel myself falling…it feels like I fall forever. The ground rumbles beneath me as my vision fades to gray. I see boots marching past me but they begin to waver as my sight fails me. I think I hear two more whistles. It’s cold again. So cold.

I think I’m….I think I’m dead! But if I’m dead, why am I still writing in this journal? How is this possible?

“Now, now don’t lose the moment! You were really building up to something before you realized you were dead!”

Sheogorath? What have you done?

“I guess I’ll take over since you’ve gone soft. Not to mention all the cheese that was wasted! Just look at that! I should kill you for that alone. Oh, you’re already dead, ha! The party’s not over just because you’re bug food. We’ll be dining together for a long, long time. Merry Hogithum to me! That’ll show you Dunmer what happens when you choose that dullard Azura over me!”

Endemondia

I, master potion maker, Endemond The Tinker, while consuming the last of my rations stumbled across the formula for flight. Wind walking, I departed the ground rising up from the table where I had gathered the rare ingredients (of which I must confess cheese played an important part).

It was just as well I had grasped my bow & quiver as I took off, for though not of good shot, I spied 4 villains plundering my goods as I returned from my vertical adventure. Fortune had it that I could loosen arrows from above to slay 2 of them (whilst they seemed unable to overcome my aerial advantage) - the other 2 fled and I, in anger, gave chase.

By the time my miraculous potion had worn off I had lost my adverseries & also the wherabouts of my provisons. But with the formula safely remembered I set off to buy more of the scrumptious cheese. Fortune beckons!

rfennell_ESO

A tale of 3 brothers

I put this tale to words to document the ravings of Decidus Vaine. Once of a noble house and an adventurer of note he now dwells deep in the dungeons beneath Daggerfall, there is he kept away from light and other prisoners so to not infect the world or it's damned from madness. Most days Decidus spends his time giggling, laughing and screaming, oftimes all at once. Except that one day that he told me his tale, a tale I relate here.

Decidus was the younger brother of twin mages of great power, Bartol and Farrong Vaine. His families lineage was full of mages from as far back as any history notes. Poor Decidus, however, did not inherit the gifts of magic like his siblings. As a scout and archer he excelled, and Bartol and Farrong did have need of someone that could move stealthily and scout on their adventures and Decidus' abilities with a bow were remarkable. Stalk up ahead and see what obstacles stand before us was what his brothers would say. Their adventures to dark corners of the world facing unnatural horrors was legend, and to merely take part was enough satisfaction.. as daedric beings and elemental monstrosities were more than a match for a wooden arrow.

The last adventure was their greatest as they entered a magical doorway to a place of madness know as the shivering isles, home of Sheogorath. A twisted dimension of Oblivion full of daedra and other nightmares, through this realm of madness they trekked looking for arcane lore. Decidus tracked and stealthed finding the way for his brothers who weaved mighty spells to defeat the hordes in the way. In this realm of madness they found a keep, a keep guarded by all manner of evil. Decidus was able to find a way in thru an underground passage and bypass the traps and locks that barred the way. Gaining entrance to this foul keep the brothers located a library from which they took three tomes of arcane importance. With bounty in hand they left this plane of madness before Sheogorath became the wiser.

Upon their return Bartol and Farrong decided to celebrate at the shore and peruse their latest find. Armed with grapes and Cheese and wine they sat to unveil the mysteries within the tomes they had won. When Decidus arrived to partake in the celebration Barton said "Why don't you run along and hunt us a pig? This is not for someone lacking the magical aptitude to muse over, you just wouldn't understand it". So Decidus went hunting, his brothers knew best.

Tracking through dense forest he suddenly heard a voice, it said "so they send you out on errands when it was you that found the way in" Is someone there? Decidus plead. "they have no respect for you, you lackey" They are my brothers, Decidus again plead. "they treat you like a servant don't they?" "they don't respect your abilities" "I can hear them now, laughing at you" No that can't be true, Decidus cried. A wavering image appeared and it was his brothers, Bartol was laughing as Farrong said "why don't you run along and hunt us a pig, my god what a useless fool" to which Bartol replied "I couldn't believe I kept a straight face with that dolt when I said it". Now anger took hold in Decidus, he knew he never received any credit... it was he that took the biggest risks and warned them of the danger on their adventures. "why not teach them a lesson" the voice asked as a montage of images from years of his brothers laughing at him behind his back flooded his mind. They have wards and shielding spells, I'm no match for them. "ah but if they don't see you, and you unleashed one of your volleys on them.. they couldn't react to that could they" No he said as anger turned to madness from seeing the multitude of times his brothers had disparaged him ran though his mind, No they wouldn't see it coming. "I'd like you to leave a note for me" the mad god said "and I'll preserve this deed for eternity".

"I bet the cheese is still fresh hahaha the cheese is still fresh, it's been fresh for 20 years" ended the mad man in his tale of 3 brothers.

cagleyb16_ESO

Dearest Myrkal,

I've found the most wonderful location for us to study the latest tomes I picked up from the Mages guild! Its situated in a small cove, snuggled peacefully next to a stony outcropping and a small glade to provide the perfect ambiance. I have prepared food and drink and will have a small fire burning to mark the location.

NOTE: There is a small bandit camp nearby, however they did not seem interested in my passing.

Sincerely,
Ren

Tasmin

The Boomerang Bow

Darting from tree to tree, Dandrum and Droggle followed their mistress Emeena, the legendary wood elf, as she let fly another unerring arrow. It found its mark, as ever, right between the eyes of the orc warrior guard. He fell soundlessly, like snow. Hastening to catch up to his mistress, Dandrum snapped a dried twig underfoot and she spun around, enraged, finger to her tight lips, a look of silent fury in her angry green eyes. She raised her bow and aimed her lightning arrows towards them. Their eyes widened in terror. For several long, panic-stricken seconds they beheld her as her hands whitened, long, strong fingers pulling back her bow.

Behind her, the sudden loud crash of heavy footfall startled all three of them and she spun around. Droggle and Dandrum exhaled a long, wavering breath and heaved a huge sigh of relief, nearly weeping with fear.

"You fools will be the death of me!" Emeena hissed to her young companions: "I hate Mondays."

Yet even as she tensed to face their fast-approaching assailant, they could make out the shadow of a quick, sly smile as it passed across her beautiful, cruel, porcelain face.

A huge Orc, named Behemantle, their prey and the target they'd been silently tracking before he'd been alerted by her inept companions, roared as he lunged towards Emeena. His mammoth bone mace crashed like thunder onto the very spot she stood. Or rather, where she had just stood a split second ago. She rolled, her agile, elven limbs a blur of reflex and motion. She was at home in the woods, and as the clumsy orc chieftain charged into a tree, unable to stop, she dodge-rolled again and raised her bow, letting fly a piercing steel arrow. As Behemantle raised his mace to swipe at the huddled Droggle and Dandrum, her arrow found its mark, inevitably, and he fell, a look of suprise and baffled wonder on his huge, ugly face.

Gleefully, Dandrum and Droggle looted his bloated body and at last picked up their prize, the magical, green-glowing Boomerang Bow. To their surprise, Emeena let them keep it, waving them away as they offered it to her. She watched at the wood's edge with unusually indulgent amusement as they sat down at the dead chief's camp table, greedily emptying the contents of his bags into their own.
"Why is this puny Boomerang Bow so special?" Droggle asked, and he used it to fire a scattershot of magical arrows towards a distant tree. To his horror his question was swiftly answered as a spray of arrows turned about and poured upon them killing them in a hail of magical arrows, like a lethal green rain.
"The Boomerang Bow is a gift you give to people you want to be rid of", smiled Emeena, as she turned to walk back into the shadow of the trees, adding: "I'm beginning to like Mondays".

huffmichaelab14_ESO

Six-word memoir:

Came for dinner. Stayed for Ever.

PropsnMayhem

Fredas, 8th of Last Seed

Came across an old bandit camp today near Riften. No food to be found in any of the nearby crates and barrels. Looks to have been picked clean by some previous passerby. Possibly the one responsible for the decayed skeletons of the two unfortunate souls that lie near the center of the camp.

I have been traveling for hours and my body aches for rest and nourishment. There is a beautiful wooden table here featuring two very inviting chairs. Quite a luxury for a refugee adventurer like myself. There will be no eating on the ground tonight! I found some candles near a barrel and set out the goblets I picked up from an abandoned fort in Eastmarch. I laid out some aged cheese and grapes from my pack on a few tarnished plates. It's no steaming roasted boar and golden potatoes (oh how I wish to Talos for a taste of such a fine fare) but it will keep me going. I even pulled one of the skeletons into the second chair and propped it up with some of my journals so that I could have some company during my supper. Life gets lonely out here when you're always moving from place to place.

I miss the home I once had but I will be successful in the task I must complete.

I've poured what is left of my mead into a goblet and have now sat down for this feasting.
What a grand night this will be.

-Valen

**********************************************************************************

Fredas, 8th of Last Seed

Cowards! Damn cowards! Out of nowhere in the middle of enjoying my supper, arrows! I jumped so quickly from my chair it was overturned. I grabbed my pack and took to the forest just as a shower of sharp steel fell from the sky. I barely made it out of there alive! Just when I thought I had found a safe place to find comfort..

I suppose a group of thieves came across my merry little dinner party and desired to take from me what was mine! And a ranged attack nonetheless! Jealous cowards! I suppose it was good for them to keep their distance. Talos knows none of them could rival me in combat and leave alive. I bet I've fought mudcrabs stronger than them.

I plan to return to the camp later in the night and salvage anything that may have been left behind. All of that wonderful cheese.. and my journals! I must have them back. They can NEVER know my secret.

-Valen