Tales of the Dead 2 - Contest Entry Thread

Community Manager
The second Tales of the Dead contest is here, and we’ve returned with another macabre screenshot from Tamriel. How did it come to this? What led up to such an unfortunate and untimely death for this traveler, and who was he or she? If you can come up with the best fictional entry, you’ll be a winner!

To participate, take a good look at the image below. Then, create your own fictional entry of 500 words or less that tells us more about the scene. You can write a short story, a journal entry, or any other kind of fictional text. Once you’re happy with your creation, post it in this thread.

We’ll start accepting entries today, September 22nd, and will close the contest this Friday, September 26th at 11:59PM EDT. If you’re one of the three winners we announce, you’ll receive a $25 electronic gift certificate to the Bethesda Store and an ESO t-shirt of your choosing!

You can read the contest rules here.

Good luck!
Gina Bruno
Senior Community Manager
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Staff Post
  • Winnower
    “You are ridiculous."

    “No, this will work, I’m telling you!”

    Lucian sneered at his little brother. Lucian was a warrior, an elite medium infantry for the 23rd Imperial Legion. His brother Aloysius had only managed to apprentice himself to a woodworker, and now stood there with that absurd pole in his hands, insisting that it would be an effective weapon.

    “A spike on the end of a pole, and you think you can throw it? It can’t possibly fly straight, never mind hurt anything. If this could be a real weapon it would have been invented already. No one in all of Tamriel uses anything like it.”

    “Lucian, I swear, this is the best invention in years. It’s going to be the coming thing in warfare, not like that “stirrup” thing that guy last year was hawking. I call it a “spear”, like those Aedric spells the Templars cast.”

    “I bet you couldn’t even knock this bottle of wine off my head. Here look, I’ll take off my helmet and balance the bottle … so. Now go ahead.”

    “No Lucian, it’s too dangerous, you could get hurt.”

    “You always were a weakling and a coward. Now I see that you’re stupid as well. Father will be angry at your time wasting…”

    At the limit of his patience, Aloysius hefted his “spear” and with all his strength threw his new invention toward the wine bottle. “GOOORCH”, went the spike through Lucian’s skull.

    As Aloysius ran away in horror, he had time to reflect that Lucian was right, he had missed the bottle. And father was going to be angry indeed. If he said anything to anyone, that is.

    VR14 Templar, VR14 DK, VR8 DK, VR7 NB, VR1 Sorcerer;
    All 3 Alliances;
    2 Pre-order Imperial Accounts, yes that means 16 characters on NA alone
  • Aidantwab16_ESO
    2E 582, 3rd First Seed
    Today marks the last day of my life as a petty thief! Ogrunk laughed at me when I told him I found an Altmer who could construct me an invincible set of armor, but he won't be laughing when I'm a mighty warlord and he is still picking for scraps in the alleyways! I'm going out to this mage's cave in the forest tonight to start work on it.

    10th First Seed
    It's been a week and the only thing he's made that deflects weapons is this ugly leather helmet! A whole week of stupid incantations, and hours and hours of having objects thrown at my head at varying speeds, no wonder that wizard didn't ask for money, I'm just an experiment rat!

    17th First Seed
    Another week, and finally this wretched trickster has headed back into town for supplies! He snuck out with a ring that makes him look see-through like glass, because of "wild beasts and savages". What a coward. Well I didn't stick around either, as soon as he left I snatched up some of that wine and cheese he's so fond of, and I'm going to have myself a nice little party out here in the fresh air while he's in town. First though, I'm taking off this damned helmet.
    Edited by Aidantwab16_ESO on September 22, 2014 10:07PM
  • MorHawk
    Cheese, wine, a lack of pants and a spear through the skull?
    Yep. Definitely a story here.
    Observant wrote: »
    I can count to potato.
    another topic that cant see past its own farts.
  • Halorin
    You know.. It’s funny. I grew up thinking I’d be the hero, you know. Make my mother and father proud. There’s so much wrong with this world. How could I just sit by and do nothing, when I know that I might be able to make a difference?

    It all felt so glamorous and full of adventure. The good guys always win. That’s what I told myself. They always find a way to come out on top, because that’s how it’s supposed to be. That’s what was supposed to happen.

    Or so I thought.

    I thought I would make our son proud, much like my father made me. I thought I would write letters home to you, telling you about all the good I’ve done. The lives I’ve saved. The evil I stopped, but the Eight’s favor does not seem to shine on me, my love. Not anymore.

    If anything, I’m glad that they showed me enough mercy to taste a life worth living. A life with you. I sit here bleeding, fearing for the end knowing that at some point in my life, I was happy. A beautiful wife. An adoring son. If I could do it all over again, I much rather would have given up my notions of honor and duty to be with you.

    I feel robbed. It was not supposed to be this way. We were supposed to grow old together, but my foolishness has taken that away from us. I think about what will happen after I’m gone. If you will find another husband. If our son will forget my face. I will be but a memory, and memories fade. I will fade.

    I don’t know if this letter will find you, my love. But if it does.. Make sure that our son does not make the mistake I did. The world may need saving, but in these moments before death, when footsteps are heard from angry and evil men coming to finish what they started on the trail, you realize that Oblivion itself could rain down on your head and you’d feel comfort knowing you were with your family.

    I love y-
  • Natjur
    His Armour and food has not been taken, but he is missing his pants........ Sounds like a father in-law got mad
  • gltyspng
    Soul Shriven
    They had been chasing him for hours.

    As Harold paused to catch his breath, he mulled over the unfortunate situation he had got himself into. Just days before, he had been dreaming of riches and adventure as he perused markets and inns, hoping for a word or whisper of treasure. He remembered very suddenly the face of the High Elf that had convinced him to travel to this tormented place. He had sounded so trustworthy, the treasure so authentic. The Elf had woven tales of a prize in a Nord cave, guarded by the most hideous creatures he had ever heard of. This prize, the Elf had said, would allow its holder to enjoy heavenly finery at whatever time he chose, yet only once. Harold's imagination went wild.

    "He should have told me," he thought to himself as he struggled to calm his breath down.

    Harold had crept passed sleeping Nordic undead to get into the cave. The only "treasure" he found in the cave was a slice of cheese and a bottle of wine. He had almost angrily thrown the bottle against the cave's wall. That was, until he realized this cheese and wine must be the legendary Cheese and Wine of Sheogorath, taken from his own table! The appetizer was said to be the best, worthy of a Daedric Prince. It was even said that after years of improper storage, these delights would still never lose their freshness.

    Harold sat down behind a large boulder with his divine picnic. He could hear them getting closer.

    "Better enjoy it while I can," he thought.
    Edited by gltyspng on September 23, 2014 11:57PM
  • c0rp
    Marius looked over his shoulder with sudden haste, determined to outrun the Imperials that wanted nothing more to end his life. Once the Imperials had learned that he was spying for the Dominion, he had been on the run for days it seemed. It was of the most dire importance that the information he carried be given to the Queen.

    As Marius fled his pursuers, he couldn't help but to think how everything escalated to this point..how had the Imperials learned of his betrayal? It had been at least two days since he stopped to eat or sleep, pausing only briefly to drink from random streams along the way through the dense foliage of the forests. His stomach was churning with hunger as he ran for his life. Would he make it to the border of the Dominion? He was determined to run without food or sleep until he did.

    Marius ran for two more days, until he realized that he would meet his goal. He would make it back home. Back to the lands of the Dominion, where he had lived most of his days. At the point of his realization, he collasped from exhaustion. Marius knew that he would have to eat and sleep before he could continue any further. He was sure that his Imperial stalkers had given up, and turned back to their outposts.

    Marius collapsed in a small cubby hole of rock, shaded by the tall Dominion trees. Marius had not carried much with him, only a small amount of rations, and a bottle of wine that had not been touched since the grand chase for his life started. Finally feeling safe for the first time in days, he decided to eat and rest.

    As he removed the Imperial armored helm from his head, he did not even have enough time to shout at the Khajiiti scout he saw perched in the tree across from him. All Marius had time for was wishing he had brought a change of clothes with him. The spear found its home.
    Edited by c0rp on September 22, 2014 11:53PM
    Force weapon swap to have priority over EVERYTHING. Close enough.
    Make stamina builds even with magicka builds.
    Disable abilities while holding block.
    Give us a REASON to do dungeons more than once.
    Remove PVP AoE CAP. It is ruining Cyrodiil.
    Fix/Remove Forward Camps. They are ruining Cyrodiil.
    Impenetrability needs to REDUCE CRIT DAMAGE. Not negate entire builds.
    Werewolf is not equal to Vamps/Bats.
  • Dagoth_Rac
    "So awkward trying to consume this cheese and wine with a helmet on. I'm going to take it off. Just for a minute. What's the worst that could happen?"
  • Wyietsayon
    I just really wanted to become a unicorn.
  • Curragraigue
    It was a good day today Lirath my love. I know I have been away a lot of late and you have been missing me but things have finally worked out for us. I’ve told you before about how I was an adventurer when I was younger and how I snuck in and stole this leather jerkin and helmet while exploring Bonesnap Ruins. I found out afterwards that they were magical and they have brought me good luck ever since. Getting that armour at the time was tough and it reminded me that what I was good at was stealing not fighting.
    After changing path and working for the Thieves Guild for the last 30 years I have finally hit pay dirt with the big heist I have been waiting for. In the end it was simple enough. Stalks-His -Prey had tipped me off on a deal that the Jarl of Whiterun was making with a shady Altmer necromancer. He told me that the Jarl intended to get his trusted Thane Oloth to transport some valuable gems to the necromancer to pay for his own immortality.
    I then just had to stake out Thane Oloth’s movements in Whiterun. He is so stupid it was simple. I actually heard a guard in Deshaan saying it while I waited for a ship to Windhelm, and I have to agree, they really will make anyone a Thane in Whiterun.
    Anyway it was simple to work out when Oloth’s house was empty. I then popped the lock on his cellar door and snuck into the house. He didn’t even have a wolfhound inside. It was as simple as going upstairs to his study and grabbing the jewelry box. As expected the gems were all there, he hadn’t transported the gems yet for the Jarl. So I took the gems and headed for my contact in Riften. I mean really I was helping the Thane out, everyone knows you don’t make deals with Altmer necromancers, it never works out well.
    I met my fence paid my dues to the Guild and they agreed that I could retire as long as I never tried to come back in to the game again in their turf. Which is fine by me, this nice big bag of coins is going to look after us in our retirement. So I picked up this vintage cheese and bottle of Comet Wine to celebrate. I’m going to go into town tomorrow and pay off that debt to Thoran before that meat head intemperate Nord builds up a head of steam.
    Which reminds me, what was Thoran doing around at the house when I got home? Was he hassling you about the debt? I told him I would get him the money. Anyway I can finally relax and take this helmet off and enjoy this beautiful afternoon sun with you my love. Hmm what is that sound coming from over in the bushes? It sounds like… Thoran what are you doing…
    PUG Life - the true test of your skill

    18 characters, 17 max level, at least 1 Stam and 1 Mag of every class, 1 of every race and 1200+ CP

    Tanked to Undaunted 9+ Mag and Stam of every class using Group Finder for 90+% of the Vet Dungeon runs
  • Slywolf
    Warren Poor Eyes needed money. His increasing gambling debt was quickly spiraling out of control. And it wasn’t his eyesight that was the problem. He could see the pips on the dice clear enough; he just couldn’t predict their outcome with any regularity. So, he owed a few people a few gold. The only quick way out that he could think of was his sister.
    His sister had married into money and would surely loan him enough to get out from under the threat of the disembowelment his creditors had promised. She was his sister, was she not? The problem was; she lived two villages down the road…nearly a day’s journey by horse. All he had to ride was his old flea-bitten nag, Rosebud, whose best years were past long before he acquired her…one of his gambling “wins”. If he left at the break of dawn, he would be lucky to arrive in his sister’s village before dusk.
    Warren had begun his journey at dawn as planned and all had gone well until mid-day. That’s when Warren Poor Eyes missed the proper fork in the road. Without knowing it he had gone left when he was supposed to go right. And, of course he had missed the sign that read “Ware the giants!” He rode on in his usual fuzzy haze essentially leaving the navigating to Rosebud. The poor old nag was prone to flatulence so when Warren heard the occasional trumpeting sounds he attributed it to the horse’s gaseousness. As they continued along, Rosebud became more fractious. Finally, Warren decided to stop and eat his lunch and allow Rosebud to graze…perhaps taming her irritable bowel.
    Warren found a spot of shade up against a rock face and sat down. He took off his helm and opened the bottle of wine he had intended to give to his sister. The wine was from another of his rare winning streaks. ”She’ll never know,” he thought. He removed the wrappings from a piece of cheese. “Quite a proper lunch if I do say so myself,” he said aloud.
    Midway through his meal and quite suddenly, Rosebud screamed. The way only horses in sheer terror can scream. Then he heard her gallop away faster than he thought she was capable.
    As he sat there in mild astonishment, Warren noticed a shadow before him. The first thing that went through Warren Poor Eyes’ mind was, “Is that a giant?” The last thing that went through his mind was the giant’s spear.
  • phraetor
    Soul Shriven
    I use to be an adventurer like you until I took a spear to the head!
  • solopro
    Soul Shriven
    "AARHAHAR ! ya slobbith ol bis grabbah... ya stumma..." Arroth trumpeted after his 6th mead. his hearty nord sister replied with an equally ferocious " OOWahh ! hibbin per vimma...", then she began to laugh uncontrollably.

    it was Cartha's 8th mead... by the eight those nords can drink. they seriously underestimated the power of the redguard black market mead and downed more than what should not have let a giant of skyrim off his arse.

    no matter, the gauntlet had been thrown down. challenged, and accused of being unable to satisfy a woman, Arroth lurched the spear from Cartha's hand.

    unsteadily and not unlike a rabbid mammoth in the school of magic, Arroth "snuck" over toward the snacking adventurer, who, in his sobriety, was very unconcerned and mildly amused by the dancing drunkards.

    one eye closed and his tongue gently pressed against his lip, Arroth knew that such an expertly crafted weapon would give him an above average advantage in such a menial task... child's play even !

    the redguard held back his chuckles as the tip of the spear fished for his wedge of cheese. each wild miss made it harder not to burst into a full belly laughter.

    "HHAA ! " Arroth shouted, beckoning Cartha to come and give him his well deserved accolades. However, after seeing his actual catch, they both ran into the night, to this day they have no recollection of the incident.
  • fjaliebeb14_ESO
    Soul Shriven
    “I shouldn’t have done it.
    The guilt plagues me like a cloud of fleshflies. It gnaws at my insides with voracity, leaving me doubled and gasping. I cannot bear the hollow roar in my stomach, yearning, pleading, demanding for more. It is almost as bad as the guilt.

    Sweet as a breeze from Xarxes’ seat in Aetherius itself was the scent that filled my entire being with desire. Heady like the finest Summerset wine, richer than the purest gold, and utterly irresistible, there was no turning back. Not after I caught its heavenly smell. Not after I, at last, felt its dense, yet delicate, weight in my hands. And, undoubtedly, not after this mere mortal is allowed a taste of immortality.
    I would say I have turned to petty thievery- stealing from an unsuspecting child, (a child, no less!) in the hubbub of the market- but there is nothing ‘petty’ about what I have stolen. No indeed. It is a treasure beyond the scope of mortals. Might I say, the Divines themselves? I can think of only one Daedric Prince who might appreciate my discovery, my prize, according to its due. But even he could not do it justice.
    But I digress. I put off the fateful moment. The culmination of life itself. The ascension of my senses. I no longer feel guilt. No more regret. How could one, when they have acquired the ultimate sustenance. It seems even the plants are in awe. The birds cease to sing. Whatever small creature stalks in the forest nearby halts to witness. It is time.”

    <Blood splatters this tattered parchment note, written in a trembling hand. Over the back of the paper is scrawled as if by a finger dipped in fresh gore:
    “MY CHEESE”.>
  • ers101284b14_ESO
    Hey I invented a new game. I'm gonna call it lawn darts. I mean what could go wrong?
  • dvukasovicb14_ESO
    Soul Shriven
    At an in,Villiam catches up with Maiq,"I have a bit for your show," Villiam says,waving parchment in Maiq's face.
    "I see two of your troupe starring,Cadwell,that knightly fellow,and...I forget his name." "The one who chronicled his 80 day trip around Tamriel,but wasn't allowed to lecture the skywatch mages due to their dress code."
    Maiq sighed,"Okay,okay," he said,"let's hear it."
    --Cheese Monger:--
    Scene**A cheese monger accosted by a Breton**
    Customer:"I want to buy some cheese."
    Customer:"How about a little Stonefang Isle?"
    Monger:“I'm afraid we're fresh out.”
    Customer:"Never mind,how are you on Silsailen?"
    Monger:“Never at the end of the week.Always get it fresh first thing on Morndas."
    Customer:"Tish.No matter.Well, yeoman,Pelagiad,if you please."
    Monger:"Well,it's been on order for two weeks.I was expecting it earlier."
    Customer:"'Not my lucky day,then? Aah,Noellaume Estate?"
    Customer:"Cheesemonger's Hollow?"
    Monger:"Normally,but the delivery man's horse,Diamond, pulled up lame."
    Customer "Skuldafn?"
    Customer:"Vulkwasten, Mzithumz?"
    Customer:"Any Norn Jarlsberg,per chance?"
    Customer:"Kragenmoor,Tanzelwil,Sheogorath's Tongue?"
    Customer:"Nestmother Scaled Bleu,Double Toothmaul?"
    Customer:"Wayrest,Shornhelm Blue Vinney?"
    Customer:"Ondil,Fungal Grotto,Daggers Point extra sharp,Skywatch,Aldcroft,Lake Hlaalu,Chateau d'Rodent,Riften,Hozzin's,Folly,Maormer Camp?"
    Customer "Camlorn?"
    Monger:“Ah! We do have some Camlorn,yessir."
    Customer:"You do! Excellent."
    Monger:"It's a bit runny,Sir...."
    Customer:"Oh.I like it runny."
    Monger:"Well,as a matter of fact it's very runny,Sir...."
    Customer:"No matter.Fetch hither the fromage de la Belle Daggerfall! Mmmwah!"
    Monger:"I think it's runnier than you like it,Sir..."
    Customer:"I don't care how runny it is.Hand it over with all speed."
    Customer:"What now?"
    Monger:"a Khajiit ate it,earlier."
    Customer:"Did he?"
    Customer:"Elinhir,Hegathe,Smoked Breton?"
    Customer:"Sanguine's Demesne?"
    Monger:“No sir.”
    Customer:"You do have some cheese do you?"
    Monger:"Of course,sir.I am a Cheese Monger,Sir.I've got-"
    Customer:"No no...don't tell me.I'm keen to guess."
    Monger:"Fair enough."
    Customer:"Ah,well,I'll have some of that!"
    Monger:“Oh,I'm sorry,I thought you were referring to me,sir."Mister Farragut",that's my name.”
    Customer:"...Shadowfen Zuuk?"
    Monger:“Ah,not as such.”
    Customer:"Dhalmora,Wansalen,Shad Astula,Skyshroud Barrow,Senie,Dominion pig's milk cheese?"
    Customer:"Ebonheart Natch cheese?"
    Monger:“Not today.”
    Monger:“Well,I'm afraid we don't get much call for it around here.”
    Customer:"Not much ca--It's the most popular in Tamriel!"
    Monger:"Not here,Sir."
    Customer:"...and what IS the most popular cheese?"
    Customer:"IS it?"
    Monger:"Oh,yes,it's staggeringly popular."
    Customer:"Is it."
    Monger:"It's my best seller,Sir!"
    Customer"I see.Uuh..'Cheydinhal,eh?"
    Customer:"All right.Okay.'Have you got any?' He asked,expecting the answer 'no'."
    Monger:"I'll have a look,Sir..nnnnno."
    Customer:"Not much of a cheese monger,are you?"
    Monger:"Finest in the district Sir!"
    Customer:"Explain the logic underlying that conclusion!"
    Monger:"Well,I'm so clean,Sir!"
    Customer:"You're certainly uncontaminated by cheese."
    Monger:"You haven't asked about Stinking Bogmother,Sir."
    Customer:"Would it be worth it?"
    Monger:"Could be."
    Customer:"Have you any Bogmother?"
    Customer:"Figures.Predictable,really I suppose.It was an act of optimism to have posed the question...Tell me something.Do you have any cheese at all?"
    Customer:"Now I'm going to ask you again,and if you say 'no' I'm going put this spear through your head.Now,do you have any cheese at all?"
    (Customer stabs a spear through the Mongers' head)
    Customer:(To audience) "What a senseless waste of Breton life."
    "Whatd'ya think?" Villiam said,looking to Maiq."That was great," Maiq said."So...original..." Villiam sighed.He knew now it'd never get performed.Maiq didn't get his nickname by accident.
    Edited by dvukasovicb14_ESO on September 23, 2014 5:46AM
  • LonePirate
    Here lies Bjorn Pinegald, former proud and loyal member of the Ebonheart Pact army in Cyrodiil. His vibrant life was cut short by a mysterious assailant while on a top secret battle mission.

    As a young child, Bjorn always dreamed of becoming a mage so he was overjoyed when he finally received an invitation to learn at the prestigious Shad Astula mages school. Unfortunately, Bjorn's magical skills never fired properly - sometimes several seconds after he would execute them - so he flunked out of Shad Astula and was left with no other career option but to join the Ebonheart Pact army.

    Within no time at all, Bjorn had risen to the rank of Recruit, and like all other Ebonheart Pact soldiers of similar rank, he thought he had a better battle strategy than Grand Warlord Zimmeron. So one day, like any good Nord, Bjorn set out alone to prove himself in battle. He packed up his trusty meatbag catapult and headed out to the farm near Blue Road Keep which had been overrun by enemy forces.

    Upom arriving at the farm, Bjorn quickly realized he was overmatched by superior numbers and he hopped aboard his trusty steed, Starlight, and raced back to Blue Road Keep with the enemy gaining ground with every step. Upon reaching the keep, Bjorn was unable to enter it because all of the knobs on the keep doors were broken. Bjorn tried and tried but the keep doors would not open and the enemy troops were nearly upon him.

    He jumped back on Starlight and raced towards the friendly confines of Drakelowe Keep. Bjorn managed to evade his foes but as it had been a couple of hours since he last munched down on a Fortified Sweetroll, he was hungry and he needed to recharge. He found an unassuming rock and decided to sit and eat some lunch. Little did he know that a hunting party of goblins from nearby Muck Valley Cavern regularly patrolled his lunch spot. Oblivious to the dangers around him, Bjorn sat down for his final meal only to receive a spear through his head. His murderer was never apprehended. At least Bjorn died a quick and noble death with a belly full of mead - exactly how every Nord wants to die.
    Edited by LonePirate on September 23, 2014 5:15AM
  • maptx
    Soul Shriven
    From afar an untrained eye would curse the Nordic iron spear. So many brothers and sisters of arms fell before the cold iron; But my eyes, my eyes know what to see, how to see, and when to see deaths artistry before them.

    Only the delicate Bosmer were so precise, so cruel, so quiet in death. Not a warriors death would they give their victims or for this instance, their mark. A moment of respite with some cheese and wine, his helm at his side. No bite did he take nor wine wet his lips.

    Commoners, nobles, and warriors alike fell to thiefly plots. So secure in their halls, yet so quick to sing exploits, hundreds did they recruit and pull the dregs to their ranks. Ever for the profit, safety in numbers and from all ilks do they scurry into dark corners and sewers to ply their trade.

    There are few among their ranks that rise above, that take pride in the craft. More in the shadows do they move, more in silence they tread. Use of skills bred by birth. Dark of skin to share the night. Rarely was there even one. One that could walk at our sides if chosen. Never had I fathomed why this one. The one true dark jewel among them lurked in the murky shadows of those pitiful thieves save to test my forbearance.

    Strangely, I found myself one step behind. Twas my brother once, now he was reft of flesh and soul, but still my brother in death. No familia or contest of war could bring one as close as our dark family, born of death, rage, and subtle vengeance. Only to our mother did we harken, to our mother did we whisper, and to our dear mothers cold bosom would we suckle in death.

    This nameless shadow had bereft me of my blood duty born of blooded oath. Only one of the brethren were to take this one was whispered to me and I listened.

    “Take this one,” she bade me. “Pain must he feel. Public monstration must his be. Bring me back the token he dare touch and reward you shall be.” In my mind she did whisper thus. In my mind I did swear.

    I knew of certainty the token was spirited elsewhere. Only this dark one was so bold in all her subtleties. I knew of this one. I had seen the work more than once. Never had she touched after a kill. This time was different. I sniffed, looked around, and found an obvious trail. A fatal game she played. I followed.

    “We should have been sisters. Soon sister you will feel my womanly caresses when I send your soul to meet our mother,” I continued on, warm in the embrace of my mothers cold silence.

    “Sweetest night mother. I will visit your vengeance on this arrogant dark thief and she will learn of your full power. I, your Listener, so do swear.”
  • DuelWieldingCheesyPoofs
    One day a nb stepped into cyrodiill, got a spear though his head and was left for dead.

    the end.

  • Soulharvester
    I found a strange artifact in a mine that had a supposed curse upon. I heard this many times before, and decided to plunder as I always have.

    One item caught my eye, it was a spear, like none other I have seen before. I picked up the spear and suddenly a warmth began to envelop me, as I tried to let go, I felt a shock that sent me to the ground.

    I heard a voice, I jumped to my feet and expected an attack, however the room was vacant, and looked to have been for years. I looked closer at the spear and I heard its voice again, this time louder than before.

    The spear spoke to me and said, "Thank you for freeing me, I have been trapped here for many years, you will carry me away from this place and set me free, a debt is owed to me by another, however, should you find me, I vow to be yours.

    As I sat, my torch went out and suddenly the spear began to shine with an intensity brighter than any torch I have ever seen. Wow I thought, this spear is useful, I lashed the spear onto my back and finished my plunder.

    As I exited the mine, I heard the voice again, my new master, I must now carry out the debt owed to me, I thank you for your obedience. I heard a distinct laughter as it suddenly escaped my grasp at a velocity I have never seen before.

    I watched as I lost sight of it, never to be seen again.

    I have since spent many days trying to find this spear, sometimes late at night, I dream of it, it shows me images, a picture of a knight sitting by a tree with his beloved, I can almost feel his happiness, then sudden dread, then nothing.
  • pitbull0210preeb18_ESO
    Soul Shriven

    Units are reminded to calibrate and test the functionality of all ballistas, catapults, trebuchets and rams BEFORE deployment to Cyrodiil, feel free to use captured enemies as targets just give them a last meal first, after all we're not savages...
  • omy_mkeb17_ESO
    Journal entry #37
    It's getting dark soon. I'm tired. I'm hungry. I can hear their horses.... close. They won't stop until they will get it back. All i can think of is cheese.... and Sun's Dusk ale...
  • WikileaksEU
    Story of a Skeleton

    This guy took a break near a rock, and forgot to unequip the Gemstone of the Skeletal Visage.

  • mattijs.buysb16_ESO
    Soul Shriven
    Finally, the adventuregroup "Band of the hand" found a place to rest. After a long day of travel they needed a good meal and a good night rest. Ylianar, the oldest of the five adventurers, was cook for tonight. He took the dried rations (as they did every evening) and started sharing..."Not again dried fruit!" Enyo complained.
    "Whoops! We should do something about that. Don't we Haskill?" Two figures, one dressed very colorful while the other was rather dull, stepped from behind a rock which the band was planning to use as shelter against the cold wind. "I have cheese for everyone!" the colorful man continued, with an exciting sparkle in his eyes.
    "Nah" replied Enyo "first of all, we don't know you. for some profitable reason you might try to poison us and I'm not that fond of cheese".
    "Wha...heh...now now, you're not very easy to please, are you sir". The stranger answered.
    "...and you're not playing by the rules...errr...well, my rules to be exact. I always find the rules simple, why do man always have to make it so hard on them selfs. Haskill, why do they make things so hard?"
    Haskill pulled up his shoulders, "Because they are not that smart sir?"
    Enyo, puzzled as he was, tried to protest, but the colorful man interupted him. "Jolly good guess, Haskill! <haha> Because them mortals are not that smart. I should tear out your intestines and strangle you with them!" he shouted at Enyo.
    Before the adventurer had time to react, the stranger continued.
    "Oh well, I like to give presents. I like giving presents even to those who don't like or use my rules or eat my cheese. Haskill, What do we have to give to this man? Something that wil blow his mind. <haha> I'd say that polearm in your pocket will do. Don't you think so Haskill?".
    "A very good choice, sir." answered the dull man.
    "Well, go on...<blow> his mind with it.......

    The rest of the band ate cheese that evening...

    edit to write ps
    I live in Belgium. I don't see my country in the list of the contesting ones. There is a reason for this? Is there a chance I can compete in some way?
    Edited by mattijs.buysb16_ESO on September 23, 2014 9:56AM
  • EmmaRose
    Soul Shriven
    You might be wondering how I ended up with this big ass spear in my head. Well it’s a bit of a tale. You see I’m from a long line of adventures. I was trying to make my own mark in Tamriel, sadly the mark I left wasn’t the one I was hoping for. I wanted to be known as the best assassin out there. Sneaking up on my enemies and downing them before they knew they were being attacked.
    Only a month into me leaving the safety of my family, I found myself with this protrusion sticking out of my head. I had been getting too lax in watching where I was setting up at night. On this night, I didn’t look to see if it was a safe place. I was confident that my abilities as an adventure would keep me safe, since it had so far. I didn’t bother with a fire, sticking with another dinner of some cheese and wine. Both stolen from a backpack left along the road side. Just as I had taken off my helmet I had heard some twigs snapping around me, thinking nothing of it I went on with my night.
    That is when an Orc, bigger than most trolls I swear, jumped from around the boulder, yelling something at me in Orcish. He plunged the spear into my scalp before I could even draw my swords! As he left me there bleeding out, the bugger took my pants, boots, weapons and backpack. Leaving only my chest gear, helmet and dinner sitting beside me, it was defiantly the worst night of my life. Sitting watching through the empty socks, watching other adventures running around about me, and no one giving me a second glace. I do wonder if my family will ever find me.
  • LaChoupette
    Soul Shriven
    The Ley of Ser Ballard

    Hear ye today I sing the song
    Of Ballard the Unlucky,
    Who lies in rest; as you might guess,
    My story won’t be long.

    He rode his steed with fine prowess
    Through grounds both dry and murky;
    He was a knight, knew how to fight,
    But in this I digress.

    The cry came unto him one night
    A maiden fair and sorry.
    He turned his steed to pay it heed
    And saw an awful sight.

    An ogrim of the vilest breed
    Was gnawing on the lady.
    He saw Ballard as he rode hard
    And tried to hide his deed.

    Now I say this, but I’m no bard
    To sing of deeds and folly,
    But Ballard stopped, and Ballard dropped
    And Ballard stood en garde.

    The ogrim charged and Ballard hopped,
    The maiden stood to flee;
    The ogrim roared, and Ballard soared
    And then his sword he dropped.

    The ogrim looked a little bored
    With his poor adversary;
    He picked him off the ground so rough
    As the maiden took his sword.

    Although the ogrim did look tough,
    None was as sweet as he;
    He saw how fared Ballard the fair
    And said the fight was off.

    And as the beast prepared to share
    His dinner with the enemy,
    The maid swung low, and threw a blow
    At the ogrim in despair.

    It was dumb luck that made it so,
    Ballard was thrown into a tree;
    He fell with ear on tip of spear
    And now he’s food for crows.
    Edited by LaChoupette on September 24, 2014 4:37PM
  • Skallolf
    The banners of the Daggerfall Covenant flapped idly in the gentle breeze as lone figure stood overlooking the Illiac Bay. He reached for the note that the Dark Elf had given him and read it for what felt like the hundredth time. “You are required to do your duty for the Ebonheart Pact. King Emeric will be dead by the first day of Sun's Dawn or your wife shall be dead.” He crumpled the piece of paper and dropped it over the wall. He had run out of time and he had to move quickly. He rushed down the steps and towards the castle. He bowed his head as he approached the guards at the door. “Good Morning Commander” one of the guards said to him, “Is It? I suppose it is” he replied grimly. As he entered the keep he clutched at his sword, he didn't want to draw it yet but he wanted to be ready. He knew what he had to do, he just had to get in and get out fast. He found his way to the Kings bedchamber and he breathed deeply as he approached the door. “You can do this Gawain!” He mumbled as he opened the door. “By The Heavens!” He yelped as he laid his eyes on what awaited him. Instead of the King, there stood a trio of Guards.

    “You will never succeed Gawain!” A Redgaurd man glared at him, holding a long spear in his hands as he did. He was flanked by two Orc's, both of which were holding great swords and snarled at him.
    “I'm sorry Isleif, I had no choice! They have Jisika” Gawain drew his blade. “I shall not listen to a traitor, Kill Him!” The two orcs rushed at Gawain, swinging their blades at his head. Gawain rolled to the right, slicing one of the Orc's sides as he did. Isleif threw his spear towards Gawain, but his blow wasn't true as Gawain leapt out of the open window. He twisted in the air and thrust his blade into the heavy cloth banner that hung outside of the castle wall. It slowed him enough to save his life. He crashed to the floor but didn't linger. “Damn!” Gawain cried as he dropped his sword. “Raise the alarm!” Isleif screamed from the open window as Gawain escaped into the nearby forest.

    After a while, his body could not continue. He needed to rest. Gawain leaned against a nearby boulder and removed his helmet. He reached down and opened his pack. He took out a small piece of cheese and a bottle of Sujamma. He took a deep drink from the bottle and began to weep into his hands. “Jisika, I am sorry my love.” Suddenly there was a cracking sound and his gaze darted up. He was too late. Isleif stood nearby, surrounded by a patrol of guards. “Forgive Me Jisik...” Gawain was silenced as Isleif threw his spear, it was a perfect throw.
  • Powell90
    What would you do for a klondike bar :D
    Pain is Weakness
  • Elsterchen
    Boethia was bored. Mortals are so uninspired, when it comes to play wicked games and while HE enjoyed the whimmering pleas of the followers SHE just couldn't stand to be reminded of their weakness. Boethia decided to look at what the other gods were up to at the moment, maybe there was something happening, that could help to rise HIS/HER spirits.

    (in another plane of existance)
    Sanguisine narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean with, there is no pear cider ?" The argonian servant crouching to his feet shivered in fear. "Master forgive me ... I trieb to szummon pier zsiboer, juszt asz you tolt me ... but it woulbn't work...". "Than you shall do nothing else untill you fullfilled your masters dutie." demanded Sanguine and silently congratulated himself for taking the lizard-men with such obvious speech impediments into service. He was going to be a fine amusement, think of it, the stupid mortal wanted to be a great wizzard... Sanguines thoughts hovered around this a bit before they focused on the glass of mead in his hands...
    Bound to obay the will of his master the argonian started his incarnations desperatelly trying to pronounce the correct syllables: ... "pe-ar--szi-bor" ... "pier-szzi-boer"... "p-pea-rrr-szi-bö--oe---oe-r"...

    (yet, another plane of existance... luckily there is quite a number of them. ;-) )
    Akatosh was distracted. What did this stupid bird think it was doing? "Not yours" ... "No, No" ... "Noooooo, Noooo... nonono"... "Not yours" it croaked from a distance, where a colorful parrot joyfully trained the words he learned from a gang of pirates a few days ago. Akatosh decided to get rid of the distraction and half mindedly hovered a spear of light in the direction of the annoyance.

    The spear of light flew...

    "pear-ci-b"... "pe-ar--szi-bor"...

    Boethias pupils widened, SHE saw and understood in an instant,
    HE raised the hand ..."just a slight twitch" ...

    "pe-arsz-i-boer"... "pie-ar-zs-i-bor"...

    ... done...

    PIE-R-CE--IB-OR !

    ... and understood

    SHE giggled like a young girl when the spear pierced through the skull of Ibor Snowflake, a sworn paladin of light and loyal only to Akatosh, who just wanted to enjoy his dinner before dutifully progressing to his nightly prayers. While HE was consumed by the change of appearance to the spear as it hovered through the different planes of existance, from a shining light to a more nirn-bound wodden shaft with a metal tip. "At least the size did not change that much" HE thought. Delighted Boethia noticed the last flashes of holy annoyance, travelling with the spear, ripping of the flesh from Ibor Snowflakes bones. This unexpected result of their wicked actions made HER almost blind to the angry gale, that suddenly emerged and with no doubt was fired by Akatoshs fury over the loss of one of his loyals. HE, however did notice and so Boethia retreated to Attribution’s Share, pleased with HER/HIMself.

  • Shaminar
    "‘Don't go out into the wild alone! There are murderous bandits there these days!’ they told me as I left the city. BAH! I'm a Dunmer, born and bred. I serve only the Tribunal (Praise Vivec!) And bandits? REALLY?! Why should I fear faithless bandits? They have no place here, none at all! If I come across any bandits, I'll show them the fury of the three!"

    Athus-Dreth left the fortified city of Mournhold behind him and into the wild. It was a beautiful day, with guar and scuttlers running about. Birds were chirping and the sky was clear. It was a PERFECT day for a walk. Why should he need protection? That was silly. Only Argonians and Nords need protection in numbers!

    His journey through the woods was quite peaceful; no dangerous animals were about, nor were there any bandits that he was warned about. But, occasionally, he couldn't help but feel as if he was being followed.

    Athus turned around and surveyed the bushes. Deciding not to take chances, he drew his sword and called out.

    'If anyone's stalking me, come out and face me like a man...or are you afraid?'

    There was no reply. After a minute of waiting, Athus muttered 'I'm getting paranoid' and sheathed his sword before resuming his trek. He walked for another mile before finding a lovely stream of fresh water. No hostiles were found in the area.

    'Ah, this looks like a nice spot!' he said and unfastened his sword, resting it against a large rock, removed his backpack and sat down. Opening his pack, he withdrew a bottle of flin, a plate and some cheese. It was such a nice day, that he decided to also remove his helmet.

    'Such a lovely day' he said and he took a bite out of the cheese. 'Mmmm, tasty!' he remarked, then placed the cheese down and picked up the bottle. He opened it and took a healthy swig then leaned back and closed his eyes with content. Suddenly shadows appeared before him. He sat up with a start.

    'What the...' Athus started to say, but with a sickening crunch, a spear struck him in the head. As his life faded away, the shadows drew closer. The raspy voice of a goblin cried out.

    'Nice shot, Agugrel! You got him!'

    'Search the greyskin, Guloik!' said the goblin named Agugrel, and his fellow goblin scurried over and snatched up the backpack.

    'Cor! He's got food in 'ere! And...and gold too! Ohhh, and look at this!' Guloik pulled out a valuable necklace with the symbol of Azura on it. 'This ought to fetch us a few bob, don'tcha think?

    'I like his pants' said Agugrel. 'Let’s take 'em!'

    And so, Athus-Dreth became yet another victim to his own arrogance. Not only did he venture into the wild without others, but he also wandered into a hot-spot for goblin bandits to murder and loot travellers.

    Let this be a warning to all, never travel alone!
    Edited by Shaminar on September 23, 2014 12:14PM
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