Tales of the Dead 2 - Contest Entry Thread

S1LENTJ

Day 75652663

05:47
think I'm going to out again today, these dark dungeons may suit the others but I like to feel the breeze through my ribs. Blow out the cobwebs as they say.

10:00
Fortune smiles on me today, no sooner had I left the dungeons and I bumped into some young lad, no doubt after his fame and fortune. Told him there wasn't anything worth looking for down there. Seemed awfully shocked when I spoke to him, dropped his bag and ran for it. Well one persons loss is another ones gain, cheese and wine this is turning out to be a good day.

10:45
Found a nice spot off the beaten track, think I'll be safe behind these rocks. Just have a rest before my feast.

13:00
Unbelievable, rudely woken with a spear, yes a spear through the back of my skull. Can't even get up now, have to admit, strong arm on him though, managed to go straight through and stick into the rock. Took my pants too, can you believe it. Now what am I to do.

14:30
Not happy. Not happy at all. Going to have to slide down the pole to get off, might stay a while though sunlight will give my bones a good bleeching. Might have a new hole in the head but at least I can show off my tan to the others.

Tasmin

"I'm so sorry to intrude, my dear man", Janewen hesitated, blushing slightly, "I appear to have lost my dinner and wondered if" she pointed to the full back pack beside Hanol, "you might spare me a little of yours - just to tide me over until tomorrow?" She attempted a laugh, as light as a butterfly upon the wind, to ease her embarrassment.
Hanol snorted contemptuously: "And why would I do that, your Ladyship, your Grace, your majesty?" he made an extravagant, overly flamboyant gesture with his hands, ending with a shrug "cannot your servant wenches run from your castle with delicacies the moment your heart desires something, your Highness?", the human said, sarcasm falling like breadcrumbs from his mouth, which was still full of food.
Janewen's still shadow fell between them, her long High Elf legs casting the tall outline of her silhouette on the ground between them. Years of aristocratic upbringing and privilege made her bristle with indignation at being both refused and mocked at the same time, and yet she felt her class shone more brightly in her manifest restraint, than in a display of ill-temper and she held her tongue, although her hand clutched the tall jousting spear tightly, as she wrestled her rage.
Just as she was about to turn and leave, humiliated, but determined to retreat with dignity, albeit hungry, Hanol's food-muffled gruff voice sneered: "Now get your posh elven ass out of my light and bugger off! Ha! Maybe you can catch your dinner with your spear?"
"Maybe I shall!" Janewel shouted, surprising herself, and she spun around enraged, flung her spear in a whirl of fury and speed, so fast, and so hard, that Hanol had no time to react and she watched, in fascinated horror as it shattered his skull, pinning him to the rock. For a moment she just stood there, paralyzed with the realization of what she'd just done. She recovered quickly, however, her usual poise returning to her, safe in the knowledge that, this far from home, no witnesses watched. Janewen sauntered calmly to where Hanol slumped dead at his last meal and sighed mournfully:
"Oh no", she sulked, "I hate cheese".

Khorflir

The captain couldn’t tear his eyes away from the scene that had unfolded before him. He watched as the large Altmer walked up and pressed the heel of his shoe to the now aged and brittle skull that only moments ago held the fleshy features of his fellow. The skull gave way as he pulled the spear point free, and he stuck it into the ground beside him. The captain suddenly realized that the mer had not stopped talking this whole time.

“The bonus is that there is no flesh left at all. At this point just grab whatever you desire from your foe”, he gave the chest piece a gentle tug and the remaining bones easily broke away, falling in a heap on the ground. “Ugh! Leather in this heat; the smell of him alone...” He trailed off as a heavy toss saw the piece of armor land in the back of his wagon amidst the other boxes and crates.

“Tell Khazil again about the enchantment”, he brought his eyes up to the Altmer who was picking up a bottle belonging to his former associate, taking a drink before he beginning to speak.

“Two enchantments, hence the steep cost. It’s rare to find a mage equal to the task. The mage who performed the enchantments was a scholarly type experimenting with incompatible spell matrices. On one hand a curse to instantly kill the unlucky *** on the other side of the point, no matter the size of the cut, and on the other a spell to slow your foe. Cast at the same time, the slowing spell alters the matrix of the death curse, yielding the result you just witnessed. You asked for a weapon of terror, one that is befitting your living legacy? No finer instrument of death exists, I assure you”.

. . .

It had been forever since he saw the two part company, but the horror of it still gripped him. That name, Khazil -the bandit captain- he shuddered at the thought. He slowly worked his way down from his vantage point high up in an old tree, and made his way to the pile of bones. He knelt down to say a prayer for the dead elf, and that’s when he felt it - square in the centre of his back.

It consumed him, and he tried to let out a scream. Every thread of muscle in his body burned. He couldn’t move. His skin itched as if being devoured from the inside. He remembered the elf’s earlier words as he died “It appears to us to take but a few moments, gruesome, but over in less than a minute. However, I’m told by the enchanter that to the victim time slows to a crawl, what might be a minute to us, feels like a day, or even a week to him.” He could see the shadow of a figure standing behind him, long tail wrapped about his legs. Could a shadow look evil?

MagnusKain

Page from the Captain of the Guards Journal

________________________________________________________________________

Fredas, 5th day of Frostfall 2E 830
Today a farmer I have known for ten years confessed of being the murder of my missing guard Haversham. I at first laughed and told him his grief over the loss of his daughter has surely driven him mad with guilt. It was only when I saw Haversham’s body did I believe him. We locked him in shackles and escorted him back to the jails where he wrote a formal confession. I have copied it here for future study for I found it to be too unbelievable, being about people I see everyday….

“I, Erving Yewer, confess to the murder of the Riften guard Steve Haversham. I followed him on his daily rounds of the city and saw how he carelessly performed his tasks. Extorting wine from one merchant while stealthy stealing cheese from another and even consorting in back alleys with the very bandits suspected of the kidnapping! Its no wonder the bandits are so close to the city these days when the guards are of this caliber. I know my reasons do not excuse my actions but I am prepared to face the consequences. Two weeks ago my only daughter was taken and murdered from the market district during broad daylight. The guard on watch claimed to have seen nothing and heard nothing. (Likely he wasn't even at the post assigned to him.) So I followed and waited as he sat readying his acquired lunch. I waited for the moment to strike. He removed his helm and began to nap. I was ever so quiet. I am still amazed he was not awakened by the sound of my teeth grinding with rage or my blood boiling with hate. I blame all my grief on this one man. I took his blade from against the rock and delivered the killing blow. I know killing this n’wah won’t bring back my Mary…. But I feel justice has been done to the at least one of the monsters responsible for her death.”

I was shocked about what I read in his confession… for Haversham was a loyal guard who, in my presence, always presented himself as a respectable man. Although I didn’t know him personally. I had my men check in to the accusations about extortion from the merchants and shady characters meeting my guards in the alleys. Turns out they were not lies and I have uncovered a huge trail of corruption inside the entire barracks. This will be quite a mess. You never really know a man as well as you may think… A kind farmer turned stalking murder, my best guards as guilty as the criminals we chase, and a Captain of the Guards clueless to the intentions of his men…….
________________________________________________________________________

A fictional excerpt by
Jesse Swope
a.k.a MagnusKain

Echo_ofDragonfire

Benegar took one last look around the rocks and settled down with his bounty. No one had noticed him at all. As usual. No matter, this time it had served him well. Stolen food was the best, particularly when it was stolen from that stuck up Sir Edgermore.
Getting comfortable Benegar took in the smell of the fine rich cheese. And knowing Sir Edgermore the wine would be the best too. Snatched while the noble had been bragging about what perfect aim he had with his new spear; what a great hunter he was. Bah! How he hated him.
Yes indeed, Benegar was feeling good. This was going to be deli-

A deep voice laughed softly, "Enjoy the wine and cheese. And you can keep the spear too...consider it a parting gift."

Genesismech98

I was twelve. A young elf on his first mission in the forests of Valenwood. I was sent to kill troublesome boar that had been destroying all of our crops. I didn’t want to, but the elder made me, said it was some sort of “rite of passage" or something. I didn’t ask any questions. I grabbed my bow and strapped on my “special boots.” Personally, I didn’t think they were so special, but my mother told me that if I wore them, there would be no better sneak in all the seven provinces.
I headed out at around 6 pm. The boar was only active at night, so I decided to wait. It wasn’t too hard to find its home, a small glade about an hour away from the village. It was careful though, so I could never get a good shot at it, almost as if it could sense that someone wanted him dead. As if he was mocking me. It got bold, started strutting around, leaving the safety of the rocks he so carefully arranged.
I drew back my bow, angry at his arrogance and just let loose. He dived under a rock he was hiding with his body and the arrow bounced off. The boar bolted for the forest and I chased him bow drawn not realizing that night had begun to fall. I got lost in the darkness and just waited. I sat on an old log and cried. I knew what the others would say. “The son of the watch captain and he can’t even kill a pig?” I imagined them laughing at me. The whole world laughing at me, and then I just stopped.
I looked up and saw a campfire. When I snuck up to it there were two men arguing. One was pacing the clearing frantically. “I should have never listened to you, Boyle” A man shouted “Calm down Aaron, the treasure is here, we just have to figure this out!” Boyle shouted. “We were watchmen, Boyle, watchmen, now were just deserters. We’ll be dead in a week. All for a stupid rock” Aaron shouted, taking another sip of their cheap wine. “Look, Aaron, just calm down. You’re obviously drunk. We’ll figure this out in the morning.” Boyle pleads, reaching for his bottle of wine.
“No, you’ve screwed me for the last time” Aaron said walking over to a log. He reaches for something, a spear. Boyle doesn’t see it, but I do. Aaron raised it, looking into the eyes of the man he once called friend, and just ended him. I stared at his lifeless body, cold and dead. I swear he saw me. Sitting there and watching. “A kid should never see this” Boyle says, with his last breath. And he was right.
There he was, sentenced to lay there, on that rock, forever. That is why I founded Amnesia. The guild that makes me reflect on this today. “We are Amnesia. We speak for the dead”

TheFormalGamer

“Ten hours of constant patrol around the camp and through the murky waters of the swamps finally ended with a simple wave of the hand from Captain Uvani. I grabbed some food and wine and sat against a rock outside of camp for a little privacy. After finishing the bottle of wine, I noticed the scaled savages emerge from brush. I hollered at them, telling them that the area was off limits. As they turned toward me I realized recognized the expression on their face: the look of someone that has decided to kill but didn't to. Then I noticed the weapons. None of the normal hunting weapons that they usually wielded, there were great swords and war hammers: tools solely meant for rebellion. They began to move toward me and I realized the severity of my situation. As I struggled to my feet I heard the quick, soft footfalls of the scalebacks and saw the flash of steel before… well… I don’t remember anything else.”

“That’s all you can tell me? You don’t know anything about the Covenant or the Dominion?”

“I… don’t know what those are. I've told you why I was here, now release me.”

“Fine, fine, you may rest easy once again, spirit.” Responded the scrawny Nord summoner as the Breton’s translucent image faded. The Nord turned to his companion “Just another slaver Gajul-ei,this one wasn't a spy and definitely didn't know any information.”

“Keep looking. There’s money in finding information.” Hissed the Argonian, “Trust me, I don’t want to interview slavers either, but we need the coin.”

“Alright” sighed the Nord as he trudged over to another skeleton partially covered in degraded cloth and held up a soul gem.

Adrianithus

Andard crouched quietly behind the stone wall and listened to the voices in the distance. His stomach rumbled from hunger; he had not had a bite to eat in 3 days now. The pack on his back was rather heavy with stolen provisions but he knew that if he sat down to eat they would catch him. The rough leather armor he wore was itchy and sweat dripped down his brow.
In the distance he could hear the barking of the hounds and the muffled voices of his former comrades, "I think the deserter went this way, follow me!"
He decided he had to do something or they would surely catch him. He thought for a moment and came up with a plan.
Moving with the swiftness and silence of a true Covenant scout, Andard gathered some food from his pack and moved. He went towards the barking of the hounds and the sound of voices. When he decided he was close enough he laid out a trail of supplies, leading in the opposite direction from where he had left his pack near the cliff.
He then quickly doubled back and made a large circle around the soldiers camp. He did not want those dogs to pick up his scent again. Soon enough he had made it back to his stone wall and sat down. This will work... they will lose my scent for sure if they follow that trail... He thought to himself. He waited for a long time and finally the barking stopped. He was safe. His former friends had followed his trail and must have lost him.
His stomach rumbled again. Its time I ate something... He decided and pulled some food and a bottle of ale from his pack. He inspected the bottle, That commander of ours sure knew a thing or two about good ale... he thought and a smile crept across his face. He set the bottle down and reached up to take off his helm.
Just then, a spear split the side of his skull and the final sight Andard ever saw was a Covenant scout, wearing rough leather armor, "You always were second best brother..." Whispered the soldier.

lmaim

Dear Diary,

Today was a most unfortunate day. I finally found my fathers’ family heirloom spear that I foolishly agreed to let Galron shoot out of the catapult contraption he fashioned last Winter. While this would normally give call to celebrate, there will be no mead poured this evening. For when I came upon fathers spear, I also found where Uncle Olan had wandered off after the Heart’s Day celebration last Sun’s Dawn.

I was traveling N.E. of Stendarr’s Beacon when I noticed a small trail winding between the two gigantic mountain ranges. I followed the trail for a few days before it turned sharply up the treacherous side of Red Mountain. As I made it over one of the many tight cliffs close to the summit, I saw him. Uncle O’ was impaled thru the skull by fathers ancient spear, sitting next to one of his prized bottles of Consummate Jazbay Cabernet and a plate of cheap Kwama Quiche. Mother always did say that fancy wine of his would lead to his demise... guess she was sort of right.

I did think it was strange how his quiche had survived the elements all these months. Not even the creatures of the forest cared to eat it. I think that is one meal I will definitely stay away from!

S.A.

Vizzinator

I love my job, or rather, I loved my job. I’m not one for traveling anymore in the state I’m currently in. I used to travel all over Tamriel from the Black Marsh to High Rock and even the Summerset Isles once. My boss was good to me. He took me everywhere and treated me as if I was an extension of his own arm. We were together through every conflict I’ve ever been in. Last time I saw him we were with a small group of mercenaries for hire. I felt like we saw more action when we travelled that way. Plus we used to live off the land, which I prefer.

I like to hunt. Animals or fish mostly, though when hunting for fish, I mostly ended up wet and fishless. I have even hunted humans, but usually not for sport. Only those seen as a threat or as a target. Take this poor fella for instance. It all started when our group stopped for a short rest. An Orc was boasting that nothing is better than a solid two hander to the torso to take a foe down. The Bosmer argued back that a well placed arrow from afar is much more convenient. The Orc roared with laughter. “And what will you do with those tiny toothpicks once a foe is breathing down your neck? You think that rawhide armor will protect you?” And that’s where I entered. Spears are good for offense and defense both a distance and melee range. The two arguing buffoons turned against me. “Ha! A stick is still a stick! No matter if it’s a spear or an arrow! Steel is where it’s at!” The Orc bellowed. “There’s no spear that will meet its target like an arrow, I don’t care who is wielding it!” The Bosmer stated arrogantly.

That’s when my boss turned towards the 5th member of our group, a Breton that we were planning on ditching at the next town. Always going on and on about Breton culture as he sat and ate his cheese on a plate; who does that!? I had no objections when my boss picked me up, took aim, and heaved me through the air. I had taken the flight before but never at this speed. It was glorious! I burrowed deep into the skull of the unsuspecting Breton. Unfortunately, that is where I still sit along with him, simply waiting for someone to pull me out and use me again like the good ole days. I still wonder to this day why I was left here to rot with this corpse.

ConnerKonEl

Budaiya sighed as she gazed at her reflection in the Shadowfen swamps. It had been an early morning and over the last few hours she had rescued a whole generation of new Argonians and even defeated a whispmother from controlling an innocent’s mind. Her feet ached and her last scuffle had left her with a good size bruise just beneath her left eye; she ran a hand through her fiery red hair trying to see the bruise better but stopped when she caught sight of a skeleton on a small patch of land to her left. She had been fooled by the undead before so she quickly grasped her recently carved destruction staff and waded into the muddy water. She pursed her lips, ready at a moments notice to cast a spell as she pied around to the front of the corpse but stopped when she noticed a long spear protruding from its skull.
“An innocent? “She mused. Her eyes studied the bones a little longer and she found herself perplexed by the sight, whoever this person had been, they had to have had a hell of a final moment. Here before her, the dust and mud covered skeleton was dressed in leather armor with no leggings at all, his helmet beside him and some cheese and wine at his side. His mandible had fallen away some time ago and frankly the rest of him looked a mere touch away from turning to dust. Although the cheese was well past edible, the thought of food churned her stomach, “Well, eating next to corpse is about as safe as any other in this disgusting swamp”. She sat herself beside the bones and pulled a drink from her bag; the skeleton’s hollow eyes seemed to gaze upon her and for a moment she could have sworn she felt a presence of some sort beside her. She sipped some wine and looked to her lunch companion, “I don’t know the story regarding your pants but it’s a shame you died eating something as boring as cheese, I could have at least given you a good meal before you went.” She commented as she retrieved a baguette and raised it to her mouth.
A gust of wind breathed through the marsh and within it she could have swore she heard, “Well, you know how it is. Right place, right time, and wrong dame; who would have guessed she was a daedra?”
Whether the reply was real or imagined, Budaiya grinned at the comment. “Hope you got her back at least.”
“Well I kind of have a spear in my skull so definitely lost that fight but you’d be surprised how easy it is to annoy a daedra when your soul is protected by enchantments. She can’t hurt me and I can drive her crazy. Win win I suppose.”
Budaiya laughed, the two continued on and before long she could feel her skills needed elsewhere in the swamp. It truly was the little moments…

ZOS_CarolusS

We have locked this thread, as the submission period ended as of September 26th at 11:59PM EDT. Thank you, for your contributions, we have a lot of reading to do.