Tales of the Dead - Contest Entry Thread

Gogog Bloodthroat

Tirdas, 25th of Morning Star

The raids were going well. No one has any idea that the steward and I are behind them.He says the jarl is planning an ambush on the bandits raiding the towns.The group we hired likes to scalp the villagers and the Jarl can't ignore that kind of violence. The next raid is set for a few days from now. We will flee and take what we have, the other's will be none the wiser.

Loredas, 29th of Morning Star

We fled this morning without warning the others. We'll be making our way through Cyrodill. I hope they don't suspect us of setting them up...They will all be dead by nightfall anyways, the Jarl never leaves criminals alive.

Loredas, 12th of Sun's Dawn

We've been running for two weeks now, this is the 2nd time we've moved. We're staying on the outskirts of small villages off the main path. When I went into town, people were talking about raids in villages about 200 miles north. We'll be moving again today just to be safe.

Fredas, 18th of Sun's Dawn

We've moved 4 times since fleeing Skyrim. I heard more rumors in town of raids nearby. Now they are just 50 miles away. I know I'm being paranoid, but their was talk of people being scalped.

Morndas, 21st of Sun's Dawn

We're settling down for our dinner now. I heard another rumor of raids nearby. There's no way it could be the same group of raiders. We're leaving tomorrow morning to keep heading south, no matter who is behind the attacks.

terey2828

Ah yes, you again. We've met before i'm sure of it. At least I think, serving a Mad-god sometimes leaves certain events...convoluted. Anyway your reason for finding me is extremely important, yes? No, just to chat? Just wonderful. Well then might I regale you with my lord's recent endeavor .

Once there were two Altmer supremacists. These elves would boast day and night of Altmer superiority over the other races Tamriel. They spoke of Altmer archers who's arrows flew straighter then any Bosmer's, of Altmer steel harder then the finest Orc armor. The even spoke of Altmer philosophers that could even trick the Mad-god. This naturally caught his lordship's attention.

So one day during their ranting Sheogorath came to them. "Maelor! Anthelo the wiggling and waggling of your tongues is heard even from the shivering isles, Its quite rude you know I can barely converse with the voices in my head!" .

Maelor the arrogant fool responded, "We will not apologize Mad-god, for what we speak is truth".

"Oh little elves, that's not for you to decide. If Altmer are the superior race as you claim then id have you prove it"!

"And how would you have us do this Mad-god? An archery contest, a riddle?" asked Anthelo.

"Boring! Such mundane tests drive me insane, well more insane! We will determine this with... A dinner party! Truly no greater display of sophistication exists! Replied Sheogorath.

Maelor and Anthelo accepted Sheogorath's challange and made their way to the dinner party that was set up by, well me, in the nearby woods.

"Now i'm curious witch for will you use first? the salad, no dinner fork! Just make sure you dine properly, or i'll use a dinner knife to claim those tougues you love to wiggle and waggle. Or maybe a steak knife I haven't decided yet" said Sheogorath as he disappeared.

The Altmer were then presented a meal of only cheese and grapes. Confident of their victory the elves laughed. "Your meal is disappointing Mad-god, every true Altmer knows one eats cheese with a cheese knife" said Maelor.

He then reached for a silver cheese knife with a handle bearing three yelling faces. Maleor then reached to cut the cheese. But as he cut, the cheese vanished in a red cloud. Confused Maleor yelled "Have you given up Mad-god? You are no match for the superiority of an Altm.... Maelor was interupted as a volley of arrows rained down upon them killing them both.

"Oh no,applogies dear Maelor, I may have accidentally replaced your knive with the Wabbajack, or Wabbacheeseknife rather. "Sighed Shaeogorath now speaking to the dead elves. "Regardless congratulations you have proven that Altmer are indeed superior, especially in the art of fine dining Haha!

Well there you have it, I do hope you enjoyed this tale. And, oh my, you must excuse me. As it turns out i've forgotten to clean up that very dinner party. Oh I do hope no one has pocketed Sheogorath's favorite cheese knife.

chugabrewski

The smell of cheese fills the summer air as the two Altmer men ride down a rough dirt road. The older Altmer with silvery long hair called to the younger, blonde haired, Elf. “Falcar, Keep up! There are many miles of dangerous terrain before we make it to the hunting camp.” Falcar nodded, giving moonsugar a slight kick, and then the horse was off to a trot. As Falcar caught up, Hindril asked him “Do you ever think I’ll complete my collection?” Falcar looked at the old man reluctant to answer. “No.” Falcar said “Every time you find a new book there’s another that you must have.” He said amusingly “You won’t stop till you have the Oghma Infinium.” Both elves belt out a roar of laughter. Hindril looking back gave a slight smile and said “I won’t be able to do this forever. Though our adventures have been exciting, I fear I am growing too old. I almost had us killed in black marsh and for what a damn Argonian healing tome.” Hindril shouted angrily “No book is worth your life, no matter how rare it is. Promise me Falcar you won’t travel alone once I grow to weary. The lands are fierce and the bandits who live in the hills are worse.” Falcar nodded in agreement though his plans were to do exactly that. Falcar loved books as much as Hindril did. He wasn't about to give up his life of adventure to rot away in some damp library.
It was nearly dark before they found the small camp. The elves climbed off their horses and began unloading their provisions onto the wooden table and throwing their bag by a barrel and crate. With a slice of cheese in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other Hindril bellowed “Let the feast begin!” As the two High Elves devoured slice after slice of the pungent cheese Falcar exclaimed “Remember the look on those Nord’s faces when we tricked them into giving us their Road to Sovngarde book.” Falcar carefully placed the Nordic afterlife book on top of the other three books they acquired in their journey. “I’d give away all this cheese if I could see their faces again.” Hindril said in a droll tone. Glancing over his shoulder Falcar noticed shadows moving through the flames of their camp fire. He said to Hindril “Hurry up and eat that cheese. I can see skeevers moving in.” Before He could reply a cloud of arrows enveloped the area where Hindril’s chair sat. One of the arrows pierced the side of his skull and he was dead before Falcar knew what was happening. He lunged back in his chair as more arrows came buzzing his way. Falcar lies flat on the ground, cheese in hand, when he hears a voice grunt “Milk drinkers.” It was the Nords and there was nothing Falcar could do but watch as the arrows plummeted towards him.

k20350

RIFTEN CRIER

HERE YE HERE YE

A guard patrol from Fullhelm fort last week discovered a grisly scene near the outskirts of the Cyrodill, and Skyrim boarder. A resupply post for Pact military units returning or heading to the front was found in ruin with partially eaten corpses from the indigenous wolf packs, and sabre cats that prey on the area. Guards identified two skeletal remains one belonging to Ivilo Kolan a seasoned officer and respected member of his men. Ivilo was a native of Skyrim and a true believer of the Ebonheart Pact. The second individual believed to be Feord Snow a native of southern Rift and a supply quartermaster known for his frequent convoys to the war effort in Cyrodoll, both found pelted with numerous arrows in their skulls and torso regions.

Captain of the Guard Tibacles, the lead officer of the Fullhem patrol went on record to say “…My scouts had come back to our patrol reporting an eerie quietness coming from the Trollhetta base camp; attempts to hail the gate guard to open the camp were unsuccessful. I then had my men setup camp and post sentries in case the brigands were still in the area. Next morning we breached the camp by mid-afternoon to discover the inhabitants had been slain in their bed rolls and tents with few signs of struggle. We discovered Ivilo Kolan near his cavern quarters with several fatal punctures from arrows. Ivilo Kolan appeared to be in the middle of his morning meal in conversation with Feord when the ambush was sprung”.

Some merchants and locals of the area had recently petitioned to the Jarl for an increase in patrols a few months prior to the incident. Sightings of roaming cannibals, tribesmen, undead, and even incursions of Aldmeri Dominion forces were all dismissed by Jorunn the Skald King himself stating, “…its just common rabble from scared country folk”.

This recent assault has raised awareness by military units moving in the region to be on full alert, as Pact officials from all three provinces are requesting a full report by next month to determine the next step. Rock-Bow, an Argonian and respected hunter and guide for the Riften guard was puzzled when his hunt for the suspects left no trace. What the Argonian did discover was arrows with the feathers only found from long passed Ayleidoon archers. Which suggests an undiscovered Ayleid ruin nearby that bandits might have been able to plunder for their armaments. Even still the professional manner of the attack has even The Rifts best strategists wondering who could have pulled off such a clean and efficient slaughter, and why?

Cayz88

A tale told by many Khajiit on Knenarthi's Roost, a tale about two very unfortunate men.

Two traveling miners that would go from cave to cave just to get ore as needed to supply for their families, had stopped at a moon-sugar farm on Knenarthi's Roost to resupply on food, water, and some good rest before heading to a mine they have never reached before. The mine was mentioned to them by an old friend. The farm they had stopped at was owned by a friend of theirs they have known for ages, Mahd-Kla. While they visited with Mahd-Kla for hours before heading to the beds he had lent them, they noticed Mahd-Kla had seem troubled. They figured they would have to return back this way after thier current job, and would discuss Mahd-Kla's problems with him and do what they could to help.

After parting with Mahd-Kla, leaving his plantation with full bags of moon-sugar glazed cheese cuts, they headed straight for the cave. After 2 days of peaceful travel they reached the cave, set up camp on the inside and began to mine. Long hours pasted and much ore had been gathered, they decided to sit down for some tasty cheese cuts. Right after receiving a mouthful of cheese a warning arrow had pierced the end of their table. Four men in half-faced masks ran up to them. While pulling back arrows with their bows and screaming at the miners, the masked men asked them where the skooma was. The miners had no idea what the men were talking about. Not long after denying everything the miners had been shot point blank several times by the masked men.

The masked men went through the miners bags and had found the skooma they were looking for. The masked men had done this many times in many different locations. They had picked off travelers who had come from Mahd-Kla's plantation from Knenarthi's Roost. Seems stange and seems to have no reason behind it, but Mahd-Kla was a great skooma smuggler, who knew how to get his product out to a drop point undetected.

Moral of the story kids, TRUST NO ONE.
You maybe Mahd-Kla's next victim.

Icy

Let's Decide This

Gillard the Poxed swaggered up to the table tucked in at the foot of the cliff. He was ready for this, so ready. He swiped at his dripping nose then his hand dropped down to rest ever so casually on the hilt of the axe at his side. Gillard nodded his greeting at the other, and slipped down into his seat.

"So," the Brenton said. "You here to join the Debaucherous Tea Party too?" He sniffed, then hawked and spat off to the side.

A look of disdain crossed the face of the Altmer across from him, and she pointedly looked away. Gillard pulled out a large checked square and blew his nose into it lustily. The Altmer huffed and turned back to him.

"Look," she said. "They're only after one new recruit, and you're obviously not up to their standards, so why don't you take yourself and that wood axe of yours and go home to your sick bed. The next member of the Debaucherous Tea Party will be Ali'et the Golden, and no-one else."

Gillard pushed himself back on the chair and propped his feet up on the table, one thumping great boot after the other, spraying muck over the blocks of cheese so thoughtfully provided.

"Oh yeah?" he said. "Well, let's just let them decide". The axe thumped up on top of the table as well, scattering plates and goblets.

Ali'et reached out a long fingered hand and plucked a single purple grape from the bunch on the silver plate, and held it poised between thumb and finger in front of her sky-blue eye. Then a white frosting grew from the bottom of the globe, eating up the sides, till the rich purple was a pale lavendar. Then, as Ali'et squeezed, it shattered.

"Your head," she said, and nothing else, with a cool smile creeping across her mouth.

Gillard surged up and out of his chair, kicking it out of the way behind him.

"You want to decide this now?" he bellowed, chin thrust forward belligerently, axe swinging upwards. "I'm ready."

But he wasn't ready, not really. And neither was Ali'et.

Arrows descended on them from above, thudding down and ripping through flesh. Gilliard staggered backwards, falling over the chair he'd kicked aside earlier. Ali'et sat slumped where she sat, an arrow standing jauntily from temple, the sky blue eyes glazing over with frost.

The last thing Gillard saw where the pair of arrows aimed for his own eyes. Then he closed them.

---

The Dunmer slid down the cliff behind the dead pair, pushing the bow up and onto her back as she reached the ground. She picked up the axe and slung it beside her hip.

"So foolish," she said. "Only we decide who we recruit to the Debaucherous Tea Party, no one else. And our main requirement is that we get along with each other. And you failed that first very important test." And she left them where they lay.

massivetruth

The Hist Sap Journal

I’ll admit that it wasn’t the lifeless corpses or dilapidated furnishings slowly decaying in relentless exposure to the elements that drew me to the scene. This was all too common to desensitized adventures such as myself who found themselves caught in the midst of three factions fighting for control over Tamriel. It was the rather emphatic lack of “muchness” that captivated me … that stirred long forgotten feelings of empathy for the couple. In hindsight, I might have called it “intrigue” more than anything.

For a moment, I allowed myself to take it all in … the hardened food, the abandoned campfire, the busted crates no doubt prey to looters. I even took time to count all 18 arrows, as if each one begged the same question, “Why so many arrows? What threat could these two possibly impose that would require such a maniacal frenzy?” My breathing slowed and I could feel my heartbeat reverberate in my eardrums. It was then I noticed for the first time that the candles were lit. Someone had recently been here.

For a moment, I damned myself for foolishly walking into a trap as if the whole scene was nothing more than a façade, fabricated for my demise. My muscles went rigid, locked in fear and I waited. One minute became 5 … then 10 … then an hour. Nothing happened.

As I ramped down from the state of hyper-awareness, my eyes picked up the corner of a book hidden in the cleft of the rock face. The mages guild is always looking for new journals … my curiosity peaked. I gingerly pulled it out, so as to not scratch the cover, and brought it over to the table. It was written by the *** who killed them.

Pages alternated between meaningless chicken scratch and ongoing lamentations, pleading for forgiveness. The author’s tears stained most of the pages, while a sticky brown substance stained the edges and left contour of their hand outlined the back cover. It was this particular entry that left me feeling sorry for calling him a ***:

Honestly, it was the Hist Sap that brought about such brutality. I felt such freedom, strength, and rage like I could take on a horde of goblins. Much to my surprise, that’s exactly what I did. As if they heard my inner dialogue and sought to challenge me, they appeared around every corner, down every alley, all the way up to the edge of the village. Remembering you were headed here, I ran as fast as I could, begging them to tell me where you were and when they lied, I filled them arrow after arrow.

And when the hallucination subsided, I realized much too late there were no goblins. I’m sorry.

I wiped the tear from my cheek, closed the book, and silently thanked the author for restoring a modicum of humanity within me. I put the journal back and continued on my journey.

robbdavisspreub18_ESO

“The best tales often end as they begin - with tragedy,
When two Bretons conjoin, expect unparalleled strategy,
For when minds of great find cup and plate,
Ideas flow like wine and sizzle like alchemy.

This is the harrowing demise of Garlius and Alyes,
Breton by race and no hero of heart,
Not half Sheogorath but mischievous and smart,
These two lovers conspired on a passing trade cart.

Cheese, grapes, a Heavy Sack full of stones,
A quick dagger took a Khajit from hums to moans,
Laughter and cheers on their new stolen loot,
A shadow of arrows reduced them to bones,

For the dagger is swift but a cat is swifter,
Take care you don't rob the wrong passing drifter,
When Breton's 'huzzah' too loud and drink steadfast,
The last tickle they'll feel is their assailant's whiskers. “

Etched on a table top in Stros M'Kai

RedMiniStapler

A young Argonian peasant named Stinky-Cheese was quietly walking besides his guar carrying bags of cheese. All his life, he wanted to be like the Jorunn the Skald-King, the fearless hero and the king of Ebonheart Pact, but due to his small stature and poor parents who were cheese makers, he couldn't even dare to sign up for training as a guard.

Stinky-Cheese : Dad! someday, I wanna become a guard and defend the city and to serve the Skald-King!

Dad : That's great, but who's going to take over our cheese business if you become a guard? You know, the guards looks fancy with their weapons and armors, but you know who's also important? us! the cheese makers! without us, the guards won't have any good stuff to eat, so you could say without us, there won't be any strong guards to defend the citizens.

Stinky-Cheese : But daaaaaad...

Dad : Alright Stinky, do you see that huge ax stuck to a tree? People say that's been left by the Skald-King himself, when you are strong enough to pull it out of the tree, then I'll let you sign up for the guard training class, I promise.

Stinky-Cheese tried everyday for over 10 years, and yet he never succeeded to do so, and eventually he gave up.

It's been couple days since Stinky-Cheese was on his way to Windhelm from Mournhold to deliver cheese. On his way to Windhelm, he saw many great adventurers fighting evil and even saved by couple of them as well, and he thought to himself "Only if I had the strength..."

He was almost near Windhelm, but he was getting tired and he could even see guard were walking slow, so he decided to look for a spot to camp out and give food and water to guars and let them rest as well. He was looking for a safe spot from monsters, then he saw some light near by and heard loud laughter. Stinky-Cheese commanded the guard to stay, and he approached where the laughter was coming from. Then he saw two nord guards drinking meads and talking amongst themselves. He tried to be quiet but he tripped and fell, and the nords noticed Stinky-Cheese.

Nord Guard 1 : Who goes there? show yourself!

Stinky-Cheese : I'm just Argonian passing by with cheese, please don't kill me!

Nord Guard 1 : Cheese you say? well then, how about share some of your cheese and join us for bit of mead drinking?

Stinky-Cheese : Well sir, I'm delivering these to Windhelm...

Nord Guard 2 : How about if we pay for some of those wonderful smelling cheese? We got plenty of gold! but we will gladly share mead with you.

Stinky-Cheese : In that case, I guess I could take out some.

Nord Guard 2 : As you can see I'm blind, my vision might be gone, but my sense of smell has been heightened, so I can tell if the food is good or not just by smelling'em.

Stinky-Cheese took some cheese out and gave them to the guards, and the guards poured some mead for him.

Stinky-Cheese : So how long have you guys been guards?

Nord Guard 2 : Hmmm... It's been so long I can't remember, do you?

Nord Guard 1 : Heck if I know, I'm just guarding this spot with this blind ***, who I don't even see any use for since him being blind and all, and drinking mead at night as our well earned reward. Although I guess I should ease up on drinking, I think i'm getting permanent hangover, this headache won't go away, BUT... I could fight it by drinking even more!

Nord Guard 2 : Headache? I've got sore crotch for last co....

Nord Guard 1 : For the last time! I do NOT wanna hear your complaining about your sore crotch!

*awkward silence*

Stinky-Cheese : So... you guys seen many action while guarding here?

Nord Guard 2 : I'm blind, I haven't "seen" anything in a while, har har!

Nord Guard 1 : Shut your trap. Here, stuff your mouth with more cheese. Anyways, many years ago, we were ambushed by Aldmeri Dominion scums. Those crafty wood elves and their arrows. We fought and chased them away, and it's been quiet ever since.

Nord Guard 2 : That's the night I lost my sight and my crot...

Nord Guard 1 : Again with the crotch!

Stinky-Cheese : Boy, I wish I could be like you guys, Ebonheart Pact's hero.

Nord Guard 2 : Well, what's stopping you?

Stinky-Cheese : As you can see, I'm very tiny... even my parents thought I'd fit as a cheese maker than a guard.

Stinky-Cheese told the guards about his childhood story.

Nord Guard 2 : Well lad, strength isn't the only factor to become a guard or a hero, one needs to be also agile and intelligent. Thorvald over there and I are all about strength, so we can swing an ax or a sword, but we lack agility and stealth. Your small stature may help you become a great nightblade.

Stinky-Cheese : A nightblade?

Nord Guard 2: Yes, a nightblade. an assassin or the unseen enemy if you will. Here, here's a pair of daggers you can have which belonged to my older brother, may he rest in peace.

Stinky-Cheese : How did he die? in a battlefield?

Nord Guard 2 : Liver failure, too much mead and wine.

Stinky-Cheese : Oh...

Nord Guard 2 : If you get to Windhelm, look for Jesper the leather worker. He used to be an adventurer, but he took an arrow to the knee and had to quit. He can craft you decent gears and even teach you all about becoming a nightblade. Tell him Rasmus sent you,he owes me couple favors.

Stinky-Cheese : Thank you so very much, here's more cheese as thanks, no gold needed, these are all free!

Nord Guard 1 : More cheese? you know what that means! more mead!

All 3 drank and enjoyed the cheese, but Stinky Cheese being a lightweight drinker, he passed out before the guards. Next morning he woke up because he accidentally poked himself with a dagger, then he saw a horrifying sight. The place where the nord guards were sitting, there were only skeletons.

So who was he talking to last night? and who really gave him the daggers?

*cue the dramatic music*




**i meant to type a very short story, end up being a novel. Insomnia is a ***! anyways, if you stuck with reading the story, sorry for horrible grammar!

Aeradon

You filthy High Elf!

I know about your sick deeds with Anton. You can have that disgusting swine if you so wish. All he does is sitting in the tavern all day dreaming of becoming a bard. Oh the Divines must have blessed the bartender with great patience, to listen to a pig spill sorrows everyday. Sometimes I wonder, perhaps the bartender is deaf and all he does is nod his head.

It was only his physique that kept me attracted, now that he no longer has it from all the cheese and wine you've been feeding him, I am free from this nightmare! Maybe I should thank you? Yes I should! As a token of appreciation, here's a piece of advice. Leave him if you can, he may be really funny when he imitate the goblins, but he is just not worth it.

kayeb16_ESO

Too late he had understood why that to hunt out in the near wilds and to return required two men. Too late he had realised why desire was the most destructive force on all the planes of Tamriel.
Jälda was beautiful, with auburn hair, golden-hued eyes and cheekbones which suggested more than just Nord in her ancestry. She stepped lightly, she sang with silvered words, and she was going to marry Hall.
Hall was a good man, granted. He could wield an axe in peace or war, but he had dark eyes and held the axe in his left hand: either was bad enough, but both together, well. So Thorolf had made his plans.
The seasons were turning towards winter. It was the time for some last hunting, before the winds swept down from the Ghost Sea and screamed their way past Windhelm.
Thorolf had gone to his friend Hall, and talked about the village’s supplies of salt meat. There was not enough, he had said, for a long winter. So he suggested a last hunt. They could make the high cave bothy in one day, hunt down some elk, then drag them home behind the pony. It would give them standing in the village and Jälda would be even more impressed.
Hall had laughed and said that he did not need to impress Jälda, that she would have taken him barefoot. Thorolf had shrugged, keeping his bittered silence.
They had made good time, reaching the bothy well before nightfall, discussing who would take first watch, but had come across a bear foraging around the place. Hall always kept his bow well-strung, and had loosed an arrow that took it down and near killed it. Another rammed through its eye socket ended its life.
They lit a fire, ate and celebrated with mead, and as Hall sat outside the bothy, watching the stars grow hazy in his sight, Thorolf crept behind him, took one of his arrows and drove it into Hall’s temple. He gave one terrible sigh and died, still sat in the chair.
‘Tomorrow will be a hard day for us, Hall. We’ll fight that bear. Some way north from here. And I’ll be bad hurt by its claws, but you’ll die protecting me. I’ll even drag you home. So you’ll be the hero, but I’ll get Jälda for myself.’
Too late. The bandits came at night, with Hall cold and dead in the chair and Thorolf, over warm with mead, and no lookout. Arrow volleys hammered into the dead man, concealing the murder weapon. Volleys hammered into Thorolf, knocking him on to the ground and he died, agonised, as the bandits robbed him of almost everything he had. The snow came the next morning.
The winter was fast hard, but the village survived. In the Spring a traveller found the remains, still as they had died, one sprawled in agony, the other sitting. He took the news with him and Jälda mourned her love.

sufferthorn99ub17_ESO2

A Tragedy of Mara
By Anonymous

"In the heat of summer, born in Sun's Height
Mara's hand of aedric grace shined so bright
In the heart of lover's, never to be
Sparked aetherial wheels of destiny.

Their love, in innocence , should bring forth joy
But instead, in blindness, love would destroy.

On Turdas the lover's together fled
Because as two rebels they would have bled
Their love, stains, on their families repute
Unleashing the dogs of bloody dispute.

They took what they could, in a heavy sack
And crossed a great length till the sky grew black.

They stopped where they were and laid in a field
And placed there bags so their bodies may yield
To Nirn in rest, a holy spirit bond
Lay the lovers in peace; their souls beyond.

But as the days so fled and their love grew
Neither one could expect what would ensue.

With a small campsite for them now in place
And their lives at an ease and without pace
Relaxed by the flame, and dined as they wished
And took the time to seal love, and kissed.

It seemed, in that moment, time could stand still
And the space around them; bound to their will.

But in a flash of time love came to end
As arrows hurled down from around the bend
The lovers then fell, and drew their last breath
And said goodbye love, and hello to death."

Let this ground be hallowed; woe to Mara and those who die for love
Selah

RiverSong69

From the “Grave” of Roronikis Willimond

As you can see, my life has been taken, and not by choice. In fact, I thought my life was just beginning. The bones you see here are of my beautiful Ame, and of my own. We never thought we were to be hunted down and killed on what was to be our wedding night.

I was passing through Sentinel when the undead started attacking the docks, and I decided to help defend the city. After the problem was resolved, I was taken to be honored by King Fahara’jad. It was then that I saw the most beautiful Redguard woman. It was love at first sight for this Orc, but she was betrothed to another man. That did not matter to me. I had to know the love of this woman. It didn’t take much to win the heart of Ame Waters, for she was bound for a loveless marriage. We dreamed for a life together, and Ame and I planned to run away.

I found a secluded spot in Bangkorai, I was sure her betrothed could not find. An old table and chairs had washed up by a past flood. I used it to set up a nice campsite for my bride. On my way to get Ame, I ran into a mad man by the river. He called himself a doctor. The man asked why I had such a happy smile on my face. I said “This is the day I fetch my bride”. The man asked what our plans were for our wedding night. I told him we had no money for plans, but finally being together would be enough. The man laughed and said, “What kind of doctor would I be, if I didn’t help a happy soul as yourself?” He handed me a strange tool, and said it was worth a lot of money in trade. I took this tool, and went to town and traded it for the best fruits, cheeses, and wine a man could buy. I wondered what kind of tool that was, to be worth so much. I packed the food in my bags, and went on to meet Ame.

I met Ame by the wayshrine in Sentinel, and we traveled on to camp. She was so surprised by the feast I had packed. She kissed me, and then we sat down to our meal. I looked at my beautiful Ame smiling back at me. I was so happy. The next thing I knew, I had an arrow in my head and I was dead. Ame’s betrothed had found us. That wasn’t the worst of it. In a jealous rage, he started yelling and shooting his bow at her, the last arrow striking my love in the head. My soul watched as she died because of our love. The man spat in my lifeless face and left a note to shame my corpse.

So here we are now, Ame and Roronikis, together forever in death.

Horkerloaf

"So these two Woodelfs, brother and sister, walk out of the dark and into camp one stormy night. The sister is leading a chicken on a leash. I says, "Where did you find the pig ?" The brother says, "That's no pig, it's a chicken." I look at the brother and says, "I was talking 'bout your sister."

vegardgjerlovb16_ESO

Morndas, 28th of Rain’s Hand
I saw two strangers outside my cave this morning. I wonder who they are. They seem unaware of the dangers around here.


Fredas, 2nd of Second Seed
The strangers are back. And they brought supplies. It seems they are interested in my cave. But they haven’t dared to enter it quite yet. My growls and scuffing keeps them away for now. I heard them speak about the treasure. But they are oblivious of the danger they’re in. They can’t be from around here.


Loredag, 3rd of Second Seed
They have set up camp! How dare they?! Look at them! Stuffing themselves with cheese and fruits and niceties I no longer can taste… I heard them speak of entering my cave this evening. They must be stopped. But how?


Morndas, 5th of Second Seed
They are still keeping their distance. My growls are still frightening enough. But I can’t keep this up. If they just hear sounds and see nothing they will find the confidence one day…


Middas, 7th of Second Seed
One of them entered! He said to the other one that he wasn’t afraid of some sounds. I have to act before my nature overwhelms me. They cannot find the treasure. How can they not know about the curse? Didn’t they speak with any locals? Haven’t they heard my story? I want to kill them! I want to make them suffer!!
NO!!! I have to tell them! By the gods I have to tell them… But how?


Turdas, 8th of Second Seed
I put out their fire with an arrow soaked in a frost-potion. I broke their equipment. I put some arrows in their food. I scattered some arrows around their camp so they know they're not safe.

Turdas, 8th of Second Seed - evening
They didn’t run away. They was just angry, blaming it on some bandits. But I am no bandit. I just want them to be safe! They have to go. I can’t let them find the treasure! WHAT?! They are carrying it outside! NOOOOOO, not again! STO


Fredas, 9th of Second Seed
*hulk* I am forever cursed… When I woke I had put an arrow in the head of one of them. The other one I shot twice. The treasure is back where it has to be. And I am again stuck here. Alone…

Why did I try to find this treasure so many years ago? And why can’t the curse just let my mind slip and let me be a mindless guardian? Why do I have to endure the suffering of killing again and again? I once used to feed birds from my crops. They were so beautiful when they swirled around me in anticipation. Why did I have to leave everything to find this treasure. I was happy! I still feed birds, but the food and the birds have changed… My only relief is that their newly plucked corpses and oddly fresh fruit might keep others away.

Elad13

My brother and I have been captured by orc bandits. They have forced us to play elder scrolls online. However each time the game crashed they will shoot arrows at us.....
(15 mins later) my brothers dead!!!! I'm afraid I'm next!! Divines who programmed thi...........

ppotoczneb17_ESO

Necromancer Journal

Alstelor:
I played with those bodies for an hour already. Animating dead makes so much fun.
I even set up a scene so they have a short lunch like we did together Alyssa.
Illusionary food, some furniture that I found near my camp in ancient race ruins. I think they were named Nai-mar.
Wait, something is wrong...
Someone is coming this way I need to hide.

Traveler Journal

Gvern:
Hey Craig ! Look!
Bloody dead corpses are having a feast, it's a cursed place!
Lets hide in here and shoot them, I don't want to risk that this dead man will attack us later.
Craig:
Now ! Shoot, as fast as you can!
Gvern:
Look we missed one, he's getting up, shoot more arrows !
....

Necromancer Journal cont'd

Alstelor:
I knew that it will happen from the moment the strangers came this way.
So much work, energy potions lost and now everything is destroyed.
I will deal with them ... Still I know some of the Sun magic.

Necromancer shouted from his shelter and draw sun fire rune lines in the air.
Rune lines stayed in the air and blazed with light in front of him.
His body stretched enormously like he didn't have bones, lifted in the air by unseen force.
You could only sense electrified air stunned for a moment like in a seconds before big explosion
and suddenly the magic wave of sun rays spread from him like a storm drying out the dead man corpses and hitting hidden travellers with incredible force.
So powerful and yet so delicate as it just lighted the candles on the table.
That moment he thought:
That's what I forget about! Lighting the candles....

soldat-48433eb17_ESO

Forgotten road
People walking on the forgotten gods road of Tamriel and probably have more than one day, thought that it would be nice to arrange the beds in the near future: approaching storm, which is guaranteed to get wet through. The Wayfarer has seen a footpath running from the main road in a crevice between the rocks. Not bad, he thought, and went on a winding path. Having squeezed into the narrow doorway, I saw a field full of trees and other vegetation. Right above the clearing hanging rock, like a roof, and beneath it lay a big stone. Here and set up the bed, thought the traveler and when I went for the stone, I saw two people that had been killed a long time ago, but he didn't listen, because many have seen as in the service of the king of Cyrodiil, and that was the renunciation of service and wandering around the world. The sounds of rain and the crackle of wood burning in the fire was fast asleep, but the dream had a difficult sitting at a table in the shelter, and the other person, the next person says something to him about money, theft and that they are in danger and here our traveler arrives arrow in the head and the rest is watching from the side. His interlocutor was seized and executed by shooting in the eye and in the crotch area, while speaking - you deserve it all robbers! In the morning the traveler buried them, to comfort the souls of the dead and walked away. soldat48433

soldat-48433eb17_ESO

Забытая дорога
Человек, идущий по забытой богами дороги Тамриэля и видимо уже не один день, подумал о том, что неплохо бы устроить ночлег в ближайшее время: надвигалась непогода, которая гарантировала промокнуть насквозь. Путник увидел тропинку, убегающую от основной дороги в расщелину между скал. Неплохо -, подумал он и отправился по извилистой тропинке. Протиснувшись в узкий проём, увидел поляну, наполненную деревьями и прочей растительностью. Справа над поляной свисала скала, словно крыша, а под ней лежал здоровенный камень. Здесь и устрою свой ночлег -, подумал путник и когда зашёл за камень, то увидел двух бедолаг, которых убили очень давно, но он не смутился, потому что многое повидал будучи во служении у короля Сиродиила, что и послужило отречением от службы и скитанием по миру. Под звуки дождя и треск дров в костре быстро уснул, но сон приснился непростой6 сидит за столом в этом самом убежище, а другой человек, рядом стоящий рассказывает ему что-то про деньги, кражу и что они в опасности и тут нашему путнику прилетает стрела в висок и остальное уже наблюдает со стороны. Его собеседника схватили и казнили, выстрелив в глаза и в область паха, при этом говоря – поделом вам разбойники! Утром путник похоронил их, что бы успокоить души умерших и ушёл прочь.

jacobauclairub17_ESO

As instructed you are to eliminate the two targets. As many of the letters you receive, my dear Silencer, are short and direct. But this is no longer the matter of the Black Sacraments that our Mother has requested we carry out. Darius Pinto and his brother Marcus Pinto were fools to have ever let word slip about our family in Stormhaven. The Purification must be performed and the sanctuary must be cleansed. But first, you are to kill the two traitors that have put us in danger here. They are your brothers but the void whispers to them. They have taken refuge in to the north in Rivenspire. Eliminate these incompetent swine here and now, but do so not to draw more attention to us, make it look... messy, and after, the sanctuary. There is no telling how many have been corrupted by their superfluous lies and deceit. I am to move to the sanctuary up north in Skyrim. Being a vampire has never had its benefits more than now. The damned nords can be thick as horkers and wont feel the cold coming down from Throat of the World. We should be safe for now in the Falkreath sanctuary. Come here after the traitors have felt the kiss of the void.
-- Vicente Valtieri

psharrad_ESO

Morndas, 7th of Evening Star

After countless retched courtings with the so called woman, she has finally agreed to meet me in seclusion. What a farce! That I could love that creature of assassination and beguile.

Morndas, 14th of Evening Star

She is so cunning, so wily; my crew of arrow snipers wait ready. In the event she is less than cordial, they shall fire upon her. After all, it is my job to bring her to ruin, not to have that daedra loving creature bring it on to me!

varonica

Varonica winced at the crunching of small bones. Sinking back against the cliff face she wondered again about the usefulness of heavy armour, particularly boots that gave no feel for the ground one trod. She looked down. Another, that was six since she passed the old dwarven delving, this one as peppered with arrows as the first five, its outstretched fingers crushed into fragments in her last bootprint. She sighed lightly and resumed her stealthy advance along the cliff path, staff at the ready. The next turning brought her to a clearing, a small camp, broken tables, broken chairs, broken boxes, broken bones, more arrows, an unfinished meal! So eight altogether, careless, a party of eight should not have fallen so easily.

She bent and rescued a weather beaten journal, caressed the smooth leather, flicked through the pages, read the embossed name, "The Tamriel Chronicle."

Inside the entries were curiously arranged, a few words on one line followed by a long paragraph a line lower, the pattern repeated down the page, it was an interview she realised after struggling to read the entries on the first few rather tattered pages, one of those pesky news gatherers then. She started to feel some sympathy for the owners of the arrows, but only some, there were limits after all, a taste of flame to warm a backside certainly deterred the curious and inquisitive, but she wouldn't go so far as char bone.

A few pages in the thin spidery scrawl was not so faded and tickled by curiosity she righted and dusted off a half useful chair and settled down to read.

Interviewer: "Do you often find these old delves inhabited by hostiles Drougba?" (At least that's what she thought, it was pretty sketchy really, half the words and letters missing, just enough there, she supposed, to remind the interviewer what had been asked.)

Drougba: "Pah, hostiles? Orcs, wild animals, bandits, all sorts of course, but we don't let that scare us, me and the boys have made some good money from delves others have passed by out of fear. Why we chased a fair band of Orcs from this one the day we arrived."

Interviewer: "What have you found here then?"

Drougba: "The usual, gears, parts of machines, the boys will be here soon with the latest haul, nearly supper time.........."

Here it stopped, the spidery scrawl endng abruptly in a thin shaky line down the page. Fools, they never even put a sentry on the bluff in case the Orcs returned, it seems that Drougba's reputation as a hardened and skilful delve digger was more talk and less actual ability.

She slipped the journal into her pack, the least she could do was to drop this off at the nearest Chronicle office, the man may have family waiting and wondering where he was, any answer was better then never knowing.

lowlifer

Marauder’s Journal Entry #1
This one thinks he is being punished… the captain has always had it in for J’zhar. This one has been tasked with guarding the entrance to the new hideout while the others dance and cheer. A lot of treasure was taken from the last job but J’zhar almost lost an eye while trying to board that ship! At least this one has a friend with him although J’zhar does not understand this game of cards.

Marauder’s Journal Entry #2
J’zhar finds it relaxing here under the shade of the mountain, the sound of the sea as it comes to shore. After being on the sea for so long, this one is starting to miss his home in Elsweyr. Hopefully J’zhar’s family understands why he had to leave. One must leave home, even into danger, to further his understanding of the world. One day this one’s family will see things as J’zhar does. For now, there is much travel ahead. J’zhar has many new skills since being with the Half Moon Marauders, skills that this one could use elsewhere. J’zhar hears of a guild in Riften, but that is a long travel from this one’s current location.

I wonder when this one will receive his share of the treasure…

Marauder’s Journal Entry #3
J’zhar has noticed the Captain leaving the hideout late at night. J’zhar wonders where he goes so late at night… No one else has noticed but this one notices everything. J’zhar is sure he is up to no good. He still hasn’t paid this one from the plunder he did, perhaps J’zhar should speak with him…

J’zhar is sick of losing this game! This one thinks his friend cheats… J’zhar would much prefer some moon sugar amongst his kin.

Marauder’s Journal Last Entry
This one followed the Captain last night. J’zhar saw him carrying large sacks away from the hideout. J’zhar saw the Captain take the sacks to a secret place in another cave north-east of here. J’zhar thinks the Captain is moving the treasure we collected from the last plunder. Why is the Captain doing this? This one took note as to the location of the secret place, one must walk north to the rock’s finger then east through the woodland opening. J’zhar will wait a while longer before going to where the Captain put the treasure. Hopefully the Captain will take more treasure to the secret place then there will be more treasure for J’zhar to take. This one was clever as to not let the Captain see him. J’zhar’s skill in stealth is far better that he thought.

This one heard rumour of imperials patrolling close to the area. J’zhar hopes they do not come too close and spoil this one’s plans.

There are no more entries.

"Probably going to receive a lot of criticism regarding the khajiit's style of 1st/3rd person. Haters gonna hate..." - LowLifer

the.olive.riverb16_ESO

Old Nan always said, “labour’s the heartland of man and mer.” Our family were traders. Of cheese.

When I was a babe Old Nan told goblin stories. Nothing but goblins. Disgusting yet frightening.

One day, when father didn’t return from a High Rock business trip, our family hit hard times and mother went mad. His disappearance encouraged her to embrace Sheogorath like a distant uncle.

One day as I arrived home, I found mother packing. Upon asking, she wouldn’t even open her mouth.

I noticed Old Nan, looking out the window. Her face awash in dusk. Nan was senile and few spoke to her bar myself. I asked and she replied, “Doreann thinks Llorens was captured by goblins looking for suitors. She’ll claim him back.”

I remember stories she told about goblins’ relationship with cheese but never thought mother would allow herself to believe them. Father wasn’t a fighter but also not dim.

I couldn’t change her mind. So in the interest of keeping some family alive I humoured her in the hopes she’d see reason. And we went to find a goblin-infested crag and much to my dismay entered it. Mother finally revealed the secret: guarded by the Thieves Guild and Dark Brotherhood. Nobody knew goblins to be cheese-makers – their prowess not by talent but raw material: dreugh.

We never found father. But found cheese. We weren’t overwhelmed by goblins but dreugh cheese. The smell… overtook our senses and before I knew we’d stolen several wheels and made for the exit.

Upon surfacing, mother became saner. She asked about Old Nan. We decided to go home. But we were slowed down by dreugh cheese. There was only one way, we thought: we had to get rid of it! Not by disposal – that’d be worse than feeding it to Daedra! – No. We decided to eat them.

Once distance stood between us and the goblin lair we found an alcove in the mountain slopes and set up a banquet, in honour of father, with plunder from a nearby besieged town: furniture and wine for a banquet to father. It all became a shrine… to father the cheesemonger.

But as I carried a last mead barrel from Northpoint I paled to see a goblin gang come down the mountainside. In the distance but a line of marching ants. I ran to camp. Mother set a fire. Her eyes consumed with grief yet unwept. “Come feast in honour of your father.”

I made my peace. I sat mother down. I brought grapes to accompany cheese. I didn’t think it mattered who got us… had it been goblins, sniffing out the aroma of stolen cheese? Perhaps Akaviri scouts? Or Montclair troops, having spotted our plunder?

No matter… as we toasted, I chose to ignore the deluge darkening the sky. I’d sat mother so she didn’t see it coming. And as we drank to father in Aetherius the arrow shower sealed the fate of lowborn house Llewellyn forever.

Father, here we come.

Medawin

”So, what happens when a Bosmer, Orc and Breton go into the woods?”, Nanwen giggled. Shel snatched the pipe from her hands and growled: ”The Orc and Breton slaughter the Woof Elf who keeps all the skooma for herself.”
”Hmph”, Nanwen muttered. ”You ruined the whole joke.”
Vincent was already dozing off, humming to himself.
Without a further word, they watched the clouds in silent euphoria.

Nanwen took a glimpse at the fire, and saw it was going out. They might need it yet.
”I'll go look for some wood”, she murmured in her thoughts and started towards the forest. The forest was full of trees, but there seemed to be no dead branches on the ground. She walked deeper.
”Branches!”, she called out, in hopes some would answer. ”Branches?”
She sighed. ”Damned branches.”
Suddenly, she saw a grey-haired man standing some feet away from her, with a basket in his hands.
”Hello?”, she yelled and tried to focus her gaze. The man waved at her cheerfully, like an old friend.
”Hey there!”, he called, and approached in agile, jumping steps. ”I brought you the snacks!”
”What?”, Nanwen asked, frowning. ”Who in Oblivion are you?”
The man shook his head with disappointed expression. ”What are you blabbering about, darling? Don't you recognise your favourite uncle? Come give us a big hug!”
She took a long look.
Well, of course! That made perfect sense. She ran to hug her dear uncle, and invited him to join their little get-together.
When they made it back to camp, Vincent was almost unconscious but Shel was suspicious.
”What's the old man doing here?”
Nanwen announced him with glee: ”Well, this in my favourite Uncle, silly! Say hello to my uncle, comrades.”
”Hello, uncle”, mumbled Vincent with his eyes closed, nearly asleep. They all settled around the fire, and the Uncle started telling glorious tales that lifted even Shel's mood.

”I have a wonderful idea!” the Uncle announced suddenly. ”Dear Nanwen here is a great archer. Let's put stuff on your heads!”
”What a great idea!” Nanwen cheered. She was immediately getting her bow out. ”Shel, you'll go first!”
Shel rolled her eyes and accepted an apple from Uncle's basket. She put it on her head, and Nanwen readied a position.
”I bet you can shoot the head without even touching the apple!” the Uncle announced.
Shel reflected for a second. Even under the skooma, something seeemed wrong here.
”Wait... what!?”, she managed to scream, but Nanwen's arrow was already flying.

It was too late.

”I did it, uncle!”, she cried out with childlike joy. ”Now Vincent!”
She put a wedge of cheese on dozing Vincent's head, and performed for her dear Uncle again. He clapped his hands and came to put his hand on Nanwen's shoulder.
”I'm so proud of you, dear girl. Let me take you home and we'll have a proper feast!”
”A feast!”, Nanwen rejoiced. ”What's on the menu?”
”Cheese”, the Uncle answered and patted her head. ”Cheese for everyone!”

HurlinMerlin

Still waiting for a story to explain why the skeleton on the ground has an arrow in its crotch. Judging from the angle of the arrow, it would have been a straight shot to the jimmy by someone standing over it.

Surely one of you Ernest Hemingways can come up with a story to explain that!

Trefleh

The men cheered with joy after their successful raid, spoiling themselves with cheese and wine. With dawn approaching, and one bottle of poison left between these 18 raiders, they bickered whom shall recieve it. One lad sat as the others fought and yelled, stood up and announced,"I know who will get the last bottle." He handed eighteen bows and eighteen arrows to each man. "Stand firm, last man to move gets the bottle", He exclaimed. Pulling the arrow back and aiming straight up, he looked at the men. Each followed and aim up, looking at each other with doubt and courage alike. "Loose!" The lad yelled, letting the arrow fly. As each man let loose their arrows, some dispersed and some stood still. Eventually just the lad, the groups leader, and another soul stood firm. The lad picked up some cheese, looked at the leader sitting in his chair, and in a piercing tongue yelled out,"Boethiah claims you!" Just as the arrows rain back down, the lad vanishes like dust.

thren_fellhorn

Morndas, 1st of Morning Star

My younger brother, Marcus, has hired The Dark Brotherhood to kill me. I am being pursued day and night. We have fought off 3 prior attacks with heavy losses. I feel safe today though. It is an important festival today. Finally some peace.

A representivie from the Morag Tong came to the came to me. He offered protection, for wish I gladly accepted. He seems to be an honorable man. But something is off about this man. I guess that should be expected from an assassins guild. He seemed more than willingly to take on The Dark Brotherhood. Almost to eager. He asked for no protection money.

Tirdas, 2nd of Morning Star

By the divine, I have made a mistake. I saw his pack this morning and it had a set of Brotherhood armour in it. Shortly after, I noticed some of my men were dead.

(written in blood)
Oh gods help me, I have been poisoned and shot with an arrow. This my last entry. The man who killed me is named Obsidian. Whoever finds this journal, take vengeance for me! You will be rewarded. Obsidian took from me a pendant that unlocks the family treasure. More gold and jewels than you can imagine, and it will all be yours. My family surname is Caro.

Titus Caro

BootsFTWub17_ESO

In other news, Cram got us into another great mess of sorts. Well, an opportunistic mess you might say, I doubt the guards would care so much for what we found! Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, I know already! You're asking, oh Brynyolf, what could you have possibly found? Is it true love? An ancient sword? A mound of gold? Rubbish. A piece of garbage honestly, and I can't see why they would want such a piece of a guar's droppings if they could even smell it! Whoosh! Like Breton cheese!

But you shouldn't listen to what I think it is, not when those crazed psychopaths want it so badly, it's obviously worth something! They were even scared of me! Hah! Imagine that? A bunch of old robed men scared of a numbskull and a wanderer! Though now that I think of it, perhaps I should return it to them. After all, I don't want some magic ball blowing up in my knapsack now do I? Besides, I've been seeing lights in the woods of late, and muffled voices near our camp. It's probably just the weather, it always is. Cram even thought he saw a tiger! Nearly scared my beard off! Stupid kid! I just about had it with him, always trying to frighten me, then playing dumb like he never meant it! Oh, why did I ever pick him up from Tear? I shouldn't have taken pity on him! Damn it! Emotions! Emotions! Emotions! Did I tell you the time I almost got killed by his stupidity! Here we are outside of a giant's camp, and I tell him to find a space where we can gather our old hunting traps and sneak by. And so he goes up to the giant and asks him if he can be sent up to space to go hunting! Dumb kid! I still have bruises from that day!

I give up! Soon as we get to Wayrest I'll dump him right where I found him, the back of an inn telling old wives tales. Good riddance!

Now that I think of it, where is that kid? He should've been back an hour ago. Well there you have it! Always getting lost and needing my help! Shows you how dependable he is to gather dry sticks on the ground! Great, now the fires burning low and I'll have to eat my meal cold. Bah! Curse the divines! I bet those crazy old men got hold of him. Good riddance!

Wait a minute, where's the orb? I knew I left it on me! STUPID KID! I bet he went to play with it in the forest! Look, muddy tracks from my sack to the wood! He even took our weapons! How many times have I told him he's not a hunter! He thinks he can just go and –

Wait a minute. He's right here. Then where did …

GnatB

So, an Orc, a Bosmer, and a Dunmer walk into a bar.

The Bosmer walks out.