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Tales of the Dead 3 - Contest Entry Thread

Perhaps you’ve heard the true tale of Sorion, the lost minstrel, but the grim scene surrounding him was too good to pass up for a new Tales of the Dead contest! Come up with your own story for how this frightful arrangement of the dead came to be, and you could win some great prizes.

Consider the screenshot we’ve provided below and create your own fictional entry (in 500 words or less) that describes what happened. 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 the contest entry thread.

We’ll start accepting entries today, February 16th, and will close the contest this Friday, February 20th at 11:59PM EST. 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!


For more information, read the full contest rules here.

Good luck!
Jason Leavey
Community Coordinator - The Elder Scrolls Online: Tamriel Unlimited
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Staff Post
  • Dominoid
    I'd like to make a recommendation. Part of the reward for winning should be to include the "readable" in-game at the location of the scene. You have three winners so replicate the scene in each alliance somewhere. This would add a new and fun dimension to this reoccurring contest.
  • BigDanT
    "Um Grandpa.... That's not a neck bone."
  • xJester1x
    The day is Fridas, 17th of Last Seed. Sorion and his friend, Valdur, have spent the better part of the week working on poems, trying to form a story so majestic and awe-inspiring that whoever read it would never forget a single word, nor forget the book in which it was written. Five days saw them fail time and again, only succeeding in creating masterpieces. But Sorion didn't want a masterpiece, he wanted more than a masterpiece. He wanted a single original work of art which would be etched into the stone of time and remain forever.

    So, having exhausted all other options, the desperate minstrel turned to his last resort, the one force he knew could help him create the greatest poem of all time: Oblivion. More specifically, the Daedric Prince of Knowledge, Hermaeus Mora. Valdur tried to stop Sorion but the Altmer would not be swayed. He'd spent his life searching for an act, a poem, a song which could be described as unmatchable and had failed. He wanted to die knowing he'd contributed more than just mere words to Nirn, even Aetherius. Sorion's silver tongue brought Valdur round to his way of thinking and, although doubtful, the Nord aided his friend in calling for the aid of the Daedric Prince of Fate.

    Two days and two nights they gathered the resources for the summoning; six skulls and four phials of blood. The blood coming from Argonian, Khajiit, Orc and Imperial, each in their own phial. The skulls coming from Redguard, Nord, Breton, Dunmer, Bosmer and Altmer. An empty seat to receive their Daedric guest and a sack of an assortment of poems, stories and plays written by Sorion himself. All that was left was to summon Hermaeus Mora.

    "You have summoned me, mortal..." The Daedric Prince said through the mouth of the Breton's skull. "You seek the means to create a work of art, yes?"
    Sorion instantly grabbed the skull from the shelf and marvelled at it, the focus of a Daedric Prince. "Give me the knowledge, I beg of you!"
    The skull began to shake. As it did, Sorion's eyes turned black and his left hand left the skull to grab a scrap of parchment and a quill. He began to furiously write on his lap, his wrist moving far faster than Valdur had ever seen his friend write, yet the Altmer never looked at the parchment. A few seconds later, the spell broke and Sorion's eyes returned to normal.

    "And now, I shall receive my payment for this service I have given you," Hermaeus Mora said as the skull remained in Sorion's frozen hand. "You still have many stories and poems you have yet to put to paper." And with that, a thin stream of light blue appeared between the skull's, Sorion's and Valdur's eyes. When the stream vanished, both poets were simply sitting on their chairs, their minds completely sapped of all thought or memory. And there they would stay, for centuries to come.
    Blood for the Pact!
  • NerevarIndoril
    Soul Shriven
    Ones fascination with Necromancy can bring death and destruction to the world. The fear that the very word “Necromancy” instills into another is proof enough of its horrific meaning. For most who study the “Black Arts”, power and domination are the catalyst for improvement. However in this dreary world of practice there is one, who wishes to bring nothing but a simple smile to the people of Tamriel. To have the bones of those lost, spring to life and dance! Tell us Jokes; act out famous plays like that of “The Horror of Castle Xyr”.
    This is exactly what is happening in the picture above, a re-enactment of the marvelous play written by Baloth-Kul. With of course of a few comical twists, one such twist being that Clavides (Skeleton seated on the right) is holding the head of Anara. To all of those who travel to witness the skeletal performance not one person leaves in disgust or disappointment.

    It is the dream of Dunmer Necromancer Malakeith to bring laughter of something that has been feared for a very long time. Driven from his homeland where the practice of Necromancy is Illegal he wishes to return one day and bring honor back to his family name. The troupe of Skeletons he uses are still a mystery but the name of the gang is “Feel it in my bones”.
  • phraetor
    Soul Shriven
    1:"To be or not...."
    2:"Dangit put me down, your hands a cold."
    3:"Would you two quiet down before another adventurer comes in here thinkin' we be more necro pets?!"
    4:"I'm sooooo bored, I'd almost welcome that."
    3:"You wouldn' be sayin' that if you were a head on the ground!"
    1:"I guess you shoulda quit while you wer....."
    2:"Your jokes suck!"
  • FusionThunder
    Soul Shriven
    Riches Awaits

    Long ago, two old friends believed that in time they shall receive their riches. They delved around in all kinds of dungeons, expecting to find treasure beyond imagination, it's all a matter of time.

    One day these two went into a dark dungeon. They could smell the wet stench coming from the dungeon, but they truly believed that their time has come to find their riches.

    They entered the dark mysterious dungeon and battle all kinds of horrible creatures. At the end of the dungeon, they came upon an old ghost. The two seems mildly disappointed that they haven't found any treasure in the dungeon. The old wise gosht asked them in a dark deep voice why they look so disappointed. "Young living men like yourself should live you life to the fullest." One of the friends answered, "We've been waiting for our riches all our lives and we truly thought our time has arrived, but we've been mistaken."

    The old wise gosht longed for a body to relive his life in. The gosht as wise as it was answered the young man, "Fear not for you do not have to wait any longer, I have an old map of hidden treasure." The two old friends suddenly got a glimpse of hope in their eyes. The gosht asked the two man to take a seat. The two men were tired from the long battle so they didn't refuse. Just as the two men sat the gosht cursed them right in their seats. The gosht took their flesh and organs and transformed it into a new body. The gosh was no longer bound to the old dungeon. The poor two old friends souls was forever traped and bound to the dungeon.

    As the legend would have it, their skeletons to this day very day is still sitting and waiting for their riches to come to them.
  • Ysne58
    "What trouble have you brought us this time?"
  • imacatcherb14_ESO
    Soul Shriven
    Jeff the Dunmeri died doing what he loved, puppetry with a full sized skeleton he affectionately harveted from Achmed, a dead Redguard alcemist.
  • Goldie
    The Laughing Mage: A Tale of Two Brothers

    This tale of two brothers, a tragic telling of twins,
    Their fate to befall, as our story begins.
    One brother a Bard, the other a Page,
    Both met their end, at the hands of a Mage.

    The twin called the Bard, mocked the Mage with his song,
    The other twin objected, as he knew it was wrong.
    The Mage with his spell, caught the two by surprise,
    and cursed the two brothers to bring their demise.

    With eyes full of tears the twins they did weep,
    with day after day without any sleep.
    A curse although fitting, with a smile they both cried,
    For them to be cursed to laugh 'til they died.

    Edited by Goldie on February 19, 2015 4:35PM
    "Wood Elves aren't made of wood. Sea Elves aren't made of water. M'aiq still wonders about High Elves" - M'aiq the Liar
  • scarydrew
    Three Skulls and a Baby

    “Alas, oh woe art thou fateful skulls upon whence cameth I,” cried out the melodramatic Argonian, Acts-Too-Hard. Casually leaning back in his chair while he wailed caused for a confusing sight with a skull lazily resting on his propped up knee.

    “No, no, no!” cried his theatre partner Sharp-With-Criticism, “I erect the spine of distaste at your delivery! Let us try this again.”

    Acts-Too-Hard raised an eyebrow at the suggestion that his recitation of the lines from the new play “3 Skulls and a Baby” was anything less than brilliant. Familiar with this lack of appreciation he once again chalked it up to an inferior audience. “My art is one of a kind and little do I expect one such as thineself to grasp the potency of my character representation. It is all part of… the process.”

    “Your ‘process’ isn’t going to fill any seats, now is it? Now let’s try this again, we’re not going anywhere until you get it right!” Sharp-With-Criticism huffed. They had been going back and forth on this subject for hours already.

    And hours more they would continue to practice, Acts-Too-Hard overacting every line and Sharp-With-Criticism never reaching anything resembling satisfaction at the delivery. Hours turned into days, days into weeks, and weeks into months. Before long the skeletons of the two Argonians were discovered, still practicing the same lines over and over again long after death.


    One warm summer day an entrepreneurial Nord, Hofikgar, purchased the residence and remodeled the house by removing the side wall completely. Thus “3 Skulls and a Baby” became one of the most famous plays in all of Tamriel, one that never started and never ended.
    Edited by scarydrew on February 20, 2015 10:05PM
  • Kahli Astarte
    Kahli Astarte
    Soul Shriven
    9 Last Seed

    Caledas brought back another head today, this time a Breton. Oblivion knows why I put up with it, and the horrible smell. Divines know, if he wasn’t the best archer in all of Valenwood, I probably wouldn’t. The crazy Bosmer is obsessed, though. It wasn’t good enough for him to fill up the back wall with all his hunting trophies. Oh no, now he says he has to collect one head from each type of creature in Tamriel, including man and mer.

    Maybe he’s obsessed with heads because he was dropped on his when he was young.

    12 Last Seed

    Divines damn that crazy Bosmer! I knew he was obsessed, but there’s a difference between crazy and stupid! I don’t even want to know how he got his hands on a daedra head, but it’s his new pride and joy. Won’t even put it down. I told him that he wasn’t keeping it in the hideout, and he got sulky on me, threatened to leave our operations. If it wasn’t the fact that I need him, I would’ve told him to go, and take that horrid collection with him.

    14 Last Seed

    Something’s wrong. Caledas is acting crazier than normal, hunching over that cursed daedra head, even whispering to it. He’s lost all interest in the rest of his collection, and even outright dismissed me when I tried to tempt him out of the hideout with the idea of hunting down more. Normally, I’d try to use this distraction to get rid of some of the more disgusting pieces, but I’m worried about him. Daedra are bad news in any form, even severed heads.

    15 Last Seed

    His craziness is worse. Caledas hasn’t eaten at all, and ever since I yelled at him to drop that damn thing in the river, he won’t speak to me either. He just sits in his chair, stroking the hair on that daedra head like it’s some sort of pet. Stroking it!

    That’s not the worst. Sometimes, I see him sizing me up with that murderous look he gets when he wants to kill, always when he thinks I’m not looking. Sends chills down my spine. That head is messing with his head, I swear.
    I’ll give him one more day. If things don’t get better, I’ll take it from him by force. He might hate me for it, but Divines know, it’ll be better for him.

    <The next page is scrawled in a different, nearly illegible script>

    You tried taking it! No one takes my new friend, do you hear? No, you don’t hear, old friend, because you’re dead. Why could you not be friends? But you hated, HATED, my new friend. And now you’re dead.

    Why is this pen so loud? Scritch scratch on paper. I can’t hear the whispers.

    Goodbye, old friend. I’m going to listen to my new friend now. But don’t worry, we’ll sit with you forever. Maybe someday, you’ll hear the whispers too.
  • tommyyellow
    Soul Shriven
    As the Curtain Drops

    The curtain slowly rose, as the set was unveiled, a single actress on the small wooden stage. Amongst the audience, her closest loved ones, though they may not have known it. Their faces looked a bit shocked, but she only thought of it as how proud they were to see her up on stage, performing just for them. As the curtain finally completed its opening, she began. “An autumn or two ago, I sat upon my roof, looking out into the Grahtwood. All I could notice was the altmer in the distance, and his melody which echoed throughout the trees. Soon, he walked to my humble cabin, and spoke to me. Oh, how his charm warmed the air around me. And so our courtship began, deep in the wood, surrounded by the scent of pumpkin. Time seemed to stand still, but months passed, and it was time for my love to move on. I begged him to stay, I did, but he would not listen to me. And soon he slipped from my reach. I wept and wept, hoped that he would come back, but no matter how hard I tried, no matter what magic, what enchantment or other, his face stayed the same. The winter came, my pumpkins withered away, but their taste lingered in my teeth. I would weep for my lost love, his scent lingering amongst my cabin. And my mind slowly descended into madness.” She slowly slid to her knees, a single tear running down her face, and began to shout. “But I, I pushed on! I swallowed hard and tended to my garden. In memory of my love, I asked any weary traveller inside for a meal, and so the taste of pumpkin never really left. Many would just walk along, but once in a while, someone would come and dine with me. The problem was, none of you ever seemed to know that pumpkins had bones. You called me mad, and perhaps I was. But you need to know something about madness. Some call it a curse, and try to avoid the strange cabins among the Grahtwood, in fear of madness. But a soul can only take so much until they too fall to their knees, weeping, laughing, with blood on their hands, and bones on the floor.” And so the curtain closed, and the weary bones of long forgotten travellers dropped to the floor, as a guest prepared for his meal above.
  • Cinicus
    Soul Shriven
    Skeleton 1:
    I am..
    literally, holding my own head in my hand...

    Skeleton 2:
    this skooma though......

  • Sunver
    Hello everybody and good luck to you all! Heres my story!

    Tirdas, 19 of Last Seed

    I have been working for so long and lo and behold – my device is ready! A Nirnbomb(oh, how I fancy the name!) – the device which siphons the energy of the Mundus itself and accumulates it for later, triggered explosion! Wasn’t for my exceptional magical skills and knowledge of the Ancient Dwemer artifacts I’d fail already. I have to do a few adjustments, but minor ones, and tomorrow I will present my creation to them.

    Middas, 20 of Last Seed

    They won’t listen! Ignorant mudcrabs! The Wormcult should’ve known better! How many times I have to repeat – the device is very delicate and responds to the environment! They want to take it to some blasted island(was it Stirk?) with hot climate and detonate it there… According to my calculations, any fluctuation of temperature could cause a spontaneous detonation! Stupid, stupid, stupid…

    Turdas, 21 of Last Seed

    The Day of Appreciation is today... Oh the Irony… I should’ve been made king of the world for such a potent weapon of mass destruction! And all they want to give me is a thin sack of gold… I’ll ask my wife to cook a proper dinner for a scholar of my degree and maybe mu blunt son will understand, how fortunate he is to have such a bright father(and quit that brawling to study with me). Tomorrow, they will take the device and, with that ridiculous amount of gold, I maybe will be able to start working with another device.

    Fire Incident Report, Bruma Fire Department – 22 of Last Seed, Fredas.

    Yesterday, we have put out the fire in a burning kitchen of a house of a well-known scholar Titus Firo. We have found three skeletons inside, with no burning marks and all clothed, assumedly the victim and his family. The fire probably spread from an oven left unattended. Inside the building we all can hear a strange ringing and the air smells like swamp(strange for a burning house). We will have to call the mages of the Mages Guild to properly examine the scene. Something is not quite right here.

    Fire Marshall Aryenn Lagus
    Edited by Sunver on February 17, 2015 1:47AM
    When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained;
    What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?
    For thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and honour.
    O LORD our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth!
  • rawcomrade91
    Soul Shriven

    A Deadly Ambition

    16 Sun’s Dawn, 582

    As I currently camp out awaiting the sun to descend, I ponder where it all went wrong. What if I had done things differently? What if I had better safeguarded my surroundings?

    Forgive me, for I digress. Allow me to recount the events leading to my current predicament for posterity.

    It was another evening. I was at my desk, spell books and scrolls askew, searching for answers. Page after page, scroll after scroll, and I was no closer to finding a solution. I angrily crumpled one of the countless papers in front of me as I felt the Magicka burn it in my hands. I yelled in aimless abandon.

    As I collected my thoughts, I began to breathe. Slowly and calmly I let all anger and hopelessness fade from my mind. There was a task at hand, and I must meet it.

    I stood up from my desk and turned to face the skeletons lying on the ground before me. There must be a way, I thought. I closed my eyes, focused my Magicka, and forced the now-familiar spell onto the bodies at my feet. I numbingly watched as both skeletons awakened from death and rose to their bony feet. Almost mindless, the two reanimations began haphazardly strutting around the small, abandoned cabin I had chosen for this task. Without hostility, I might add; an improvement over my earlier attempts.

    Sit down, I commanded with my mind, Magicka coursing through my veins. They obeyed without question. By this point in all my experiments, reanimating them was the easy part.

    Once I was sure they would remain seated, a thought came to me— what if I could manipulate the skeletons’ personalities? I quickly poured into one of the many texts littering my desk and came up with a rudimentary spell and, surprisingly, met with moderate success. One of the skeletons kicked its leg up in the chair and reached for a skull lying on the ground—a piece of one of my earlier attempts—and proceeded to hold it and act as if it was laughing. The other seemed to be laughing at this minor spectacle. Not necessarily the results I was looking for, but it was success nonetheless. Another step toward bringing her back.

    Just then, the cabin’s door slammed open and in marched two Dunmer patrolmen. They pointed their blades in my direction and yelled “You! By order of House Redoran, you are under arrest for crimes of Necromancy against Morrowind and its people.”

    Before they could utter another word I blasted them aside with a fire spell and vanished out a makeshift door I created if such an event were to pass.

    I now seek passage out of this place. It is clear my practices are too dangerous to be performed here. Once I am safely beyond Morrowind’s borders, I will resume my work and bring my lovely Velara back. I pledge to Azura I will.

  • link91b14a_ESO
    Soul Shriven
    If you found this in our shack, run. Run before It finds you...

    There is a daedra that we summoned here by accident, one that is fond of jokes. If he appears and starts talking, DO NOT LAUGH. Once you do, it'll be too late. That is the fate that befell us.

    It was just another day of magic practice. Taleis and I had been using this shack to practice our summoning. Taleis had just come back from shopping for the ingredients we needed for our next spell. Everything was routine and after we banished our latest summon, Taleis said he had one more spell he wanted to try. He had obtained some exotic ingredients from a salesman he met on the way back and he wanted to try them in our next spell to see what we would get. I should have known better as the ingredients were not like anything I had ever seen but, our wards and barriers had held up so far so I figured 'why not'.

    It seemed to be going well and we did get our summon. At first I thought we ended up summoning a human. But those eyes, no human has eyes like that, nothing on Nirn does. It offered us a deal, it would tell us the secrets of summoning and binding the most powerful daedra and in exchange, we would listen to its comedy routine. We jumped at the chance. The secrets would be great but a daedra's comedy routine! No one had recorded such a thing. We thought we couldn't lose.

    That first joke was hilarious, so we laughed without hesitation. The next joke was terrible, but we found ourselves laughing anyway. It soon became apparent that we were going to laugh at anything it said. Next thing we knew, we were sitting in the chairs, bound. Some sort of magic is keeping us here. Skulls appeared around us and started to laugh as well and, with each laugh I can feel my energy draining. It was feeding on us. Thankfully it seems to need time to digest the energy. It takes a break every so often, So I have time to write.

    It's taking all my energy to write this, I'm not sure how much longer I can last. Taleis has almost had it. I pray to Stendarr that he forgives us for our foolishness and that someone will come to banish this daedra.

    Oh no. It comes....
  • lastphotograph
    This is a story about husband and wife. The husband, Tom of Spellscar, was a habitual adulterer. The wife, Livia of Glenumbra, accepted his need to seek other womens affection. ONLY on 1 condition, She gets to take thier heads. THE END.
  • aligar89_ESO
    Soul Shriven
    A Head Hunting We Shall Go!

    Two figures running in the night holding severed heads. They were the infamous Head Hunters assassins there calling card was taking the head of there victims as trophies. The two hooded figures drawing ever closer to a small run down shack

    ???- did you see his wife's face when she came in with dinner Ran'sif?
    She was a well built red guard shrouded in a dark green cloak.

    Ran'sif- Yess it'ss to bad sshe saw us sshe was attractive could have remarried and I could usse a distraction every now and then.
    He was a short Argonian with grey scales and red accents on his face and chest a black strip ran down his tail.

    ???-Ran'sif you need to stop thinking with that tail in the front and learn to keep the one sticking out of you backside from knocking over lamps.

    Ran'sif- Come on Adriana can you get passt that already we killed the witnessess and got away.

    Adriana- Fine just keep up we are almost to the there and I want to clean up are new trophies.

    They entered shack it was a little dusty and filled with skulls trophies of all there deeds completed. the smell of rot and mildew filled the space they called home.
    Adriana set her prize down to look around making sure everything was where it should be.

    Adriana-Did you put them there?

    Ran'sif- Put what where?

    Adriana-Stop admiring your skull for a minute and look In the center of the room in the chairs there are two skeletons there.

    Ran'sif- I don't know we haven't been here for months are you ssure you didn't leave them like that?

    Adriana- No, I think I would remember sitting to skeletons in the middle of the room.

    Adriana crouched over one of the skeletons and as she did its head turned to meet hers. She screamed but to late the Skeleton had already grabbed her by the shoulder and bite down on her neck.

    Ran'sif- Adriana!!!

    He lept to her side and as he reached out to try and free her the other skeleton grabbed him. He pulled his dagger out and thrust it into the skeletons chest. The dagger got caught i nits rib cage. It then bit his arm causing his to yell in pain. Releasing his grip on the dagger. This was all the skeleton needed it lunged forward and dug its boney hand into his gut.

    Ran'sif turned to see Adriana's lifeless body on the floor the other skeleton was now devouring her with some sort of daedric magic. As the blood slowly ran from his body and the world faded to black all that was heard was the blood dripping from the floor boards.
    The two skeletons now sat in the chairs once more one admiring the head of the head hunter the other just laughing a shrill high pitched deafening laugh.
    Edited by aligar89_ESO on February 17, 2015 6:37AM
  • Aidantwab16_ESO
    "Now allow me, my two dear friends, to recant one of my favorite pieces of Sload poetry."
    Edited by Aidantwab16_ESO on February 17, 2015 6:43AM
  • batz1989
    Soul Shriven
    A wisp of air blew through the dimly lit cavern and the bones seemed almost to shiver. A man with white hair spun about as a moan crept between the teeth of a skull.

    "No! No, no, no, no, NO!" Roared the man, "you're doing it all wrong! And you call yourself actors! No wonder you found yourself stuck in this little situation!"

    One of the skulls made a clacking sound as it ground its teeth, "this would be easier if I had a body," it remarked.

    "Well you should have thought of that before you attempted to trip over your own feet during the dance number, shouldn't you?! And as for the rest of you lot - look lively!" The white-haired man blinked for a second as though stunned, then slapped his thigh and laughed, " 'look lively' HAH! I kill myself some times!"

    One of the skulls muttered, "if only."

    "Now, now, do remember who's in charge here. You know, I could always attach your good self to 'Sir-Loin's' humerous - make you his new funny bone. Then, maybe, you would develop some wit."

    All nine of the skulls groaned, an earthy, deep rumbling sound. The two still attached to bodies managed to shake their heads, producing a sound reminiscent of finger nails scratching a chalk board.

    "Now, let's try this again, from the top. And this time, I want to feel the anguish which only a comedy wrapped in a tragedy with an enigma dressing can provoke! And I-lean," he looked at one of the complete skeletons, "if you trip over your own feet once more, I'll do you a favour and remove them, like I did with Ivar the Boneless over there. Permanently!"

    The bones began to creak once more as they participated in the roles assigned to them. Not for the last time did they regret having bargained with the Prince of Madness.
    Edited by batz1989 on February 17, 2015 7:45AM
  • P3ZZL3
    @ZOS_JasonLeavey I have a quick question if I may.

    You offer the $25 voucher for the Bethsoft store. Anyone who is outside of the US will have to spend more money to use it as the postage with cost a fortune? Therefore making the prize somewhat obsolete.

    Cheapest sensible item / T-Shirt - $20
    Shipping - $16

    Is there anything else you could do in terms of the prize to entice more entries from outside of the US? Maybe we could get a 3mth time card for ESO instead? Would allow us to get some crowns for the in game store when it releases next month?

    Matt / Pez
    CP561 Redguard | Jabsy Templar | Stamina Build
    CP561 Breton | Jesus Beam Templar | Magicka Build Forever!
    CP561 Naked Nord | Tanky DK | Stamigicka Build

    ✭✭✭ Check ESO Server Status Live!: http://eso.webhub.eu/ ✭✭✭
  • Themistokles
    Soul Shriven
    Sheogoraths day out
    ”Did you hear that”, whispered a soldier in a frightened tone, “It came from that direction!” he pointed towards an abandoned building in the midst of a clearing in the forest.
    The captain looked around while slowly bringing his hand to the hilt of his sword. He raised his finger to his lips, to instruct his troops to move silently towards the building, the soldier heard the noise coming from. They moved slowly and soundlessly towards the building, efficiently surrounding it so that no one could escape. When the captain saw every one of his troops being in position, he started the assault, kicking down the door of the old building. His soldiers followed him swiftly inside, only a few were standing guard outside making sure no one left or entered the building.
    What awaited the group of soldiers inside was horrifically eerie. Two skeletons sat on chairs. One of the skeletons was holding a skull in its right hand and touching another with its left foot. The other skeleton was looking, almost hypnotized towards a pile of seven beheaded corpses.
    “Look here captain”, said one of the soldiers, “These are the uniforms of the missing patrol”.
    The Captain walked towards the soldier, looking at the pile of armor and cloth, laying abandoned on the ground. “There are ten uniforms here but only nine bodies!”. At the same time, a scream came from the outside. The captain rushed out only to see his old comrade, and captain of the missing patrol, naked to the skin, sucking out all the blood of the now dead soldier, not like a vampire but like some kind of animal enjoying the taste of blood and therefore drinking every last drop of it. After being momentarily paralyzed by the sight of this event, he quickly swung his sword, killing his old friend. He looked at the dead soldier; all the blood in his veins had been drained, not even leaving a blood mark where the bite wound had been inflicted. The captain started to wonder where the rest of the guards were, and started to realize none of his troops had followed him outside. He went back inside, seeing all of his soldiers looking towards him. He suddenly heard a voice.
    “Look at those deliciously boring soldiers of yours, don’t you think their blood would taste like the finest wine and skin and meat like the rarest animal?”, said the voice with in a irresistible way, “I think you need to brighten their day while enjoying it yourself, make them watch you kill them, one by one”.
    The captain didn’t know the voice, but it sounded logically, he started to remove his clothes so the blood wouldn’t get sucked up by the cloth. The soldiers started to do the same and laughed when the captain started to skin them alive one by one – and finally himself.
    The voice said while laughing: “And they say I’m mad!”.
    Edited by Themistokles on February 19, 2015 8:06AM
    - Klytamnestra (Templar healer)
    DSA World record on vanilla difficulty (1.4): 115:54:406
  • Darkheart
    "Darn thieves guild! They have no shame anymore, they picked us clean!"

    Returning Home to Daggerfall.
  • JellyToast
    Soul Shriven
    “The Giggling Shack”. It didn’t sound like a terrifying place to go and investigate – in fact it would probably be easy compared with ousting the Demons in Riften, thought the Exorcist. She’d been traversing the lands of Tamriel for many years in pursuit of sending the foul beasts back to their own plane of existence for years and now she was expected to take her team to investigate a shack that giggled?!

    However silly it seemed, the locals were paying good coin to have her team investigate so the Exorcist reluctantly began to canvass the area. A few decades ago, according to locals, a Bosmer had arrived in their quiet village to host an event. Unfortunately, where the Bosmer was a hit back in their homeland, their routine didn’t go down as well with the locals here. The Bosmer disappeared in rage but soon after, the Shack on the hill began to giggle. All night. Every night. The villagers had tried to investigate but it only resulted in the giggles getting louder.

    The story seemed so childish. The villagers must be bored and isolated in this desolate area of Tamriel and they were getting their kicks this way. When the sun started to fade, the Exorcist and her team made their way to the Shack and knocked on the door. She smiled to herself when there was no answer. See! No sign of a Bosmer. There was nothing at all wrong with this Shack, so the team let themselves in. It seemed to just be the one room. The furniture was as old as the exterior of the Shack and just as worn. There was a smell of must and there were curious ornaments all over the mantels.

    The Exorcist and her team sat on the only few chairs in the room. They looked at each other and began to laugh at the absurdness of it all! They’re being paid good gold to investigate a Shack that’s just old! The laughter was catching, even the ornaments seemed to be laughing with them. The Exorcist picked up one of the ornaments. It looked like a skull replica. The mouth was stretched wide like it was laughing too. It was just too funny! The skulls were clearly a trick to go along with the whole… “Luuuuunch!” It was a slow, strange sounding voice coming from behind them. The team laughed louder. This prank was so poorly executed!

    Laughter seemed to consume them all for a few minutes. When she finally managed to catch her breath, the Exorcist turned her head to look at her team but they’d decided to dress as skeletons during her laughing fit. So they were in on it! The cheeky little… “Onnlllyyy yoouu leffftt” – there’s that voice again, this time from by her knee. Still laughing she looked down at her knee bones and laughed still louder. They’d actually got a Bosmer to be in on their little prank!
  • ArconSeptim
    It was a beautiful Fredas morning in Rain's Hand, the nature was rising from the depths of soil.The weather was becoming warm and bright just as Akatosh scales.

    Somewhere in Cyrodiil...The Great Forest.

    Marcuvius was eating his breakfeast with his uncle Urnicus, they were discussing about their hard life in the Imperial Hunters and Miners guild, when suddenly, in front of them large bright mist appeared.
    Loud sounds of laughing and madness could be heard from the strange light in front of them!Marcuvius got upset and took his favourite pickaxe from the shelve, Urnicus stood stunned at the place.

    They didn't know it was the Mad God who started to talk to them.
    Urnicus shouted : "Whaat, whaat are you demonic creature?! What do you want from us?!We didn't do anything to you!"
    Mad God:"Ha Ha Ha Ha, my shoes look nice can you see them? Of course you can't, you see only ghosts and Gods around you...ahh.Must have been the shoes..."
    Marcuvius:"Uncle please what do we do now? Our breakfeast is getting cold?!"

    Mad God:"I thought so, hmm...You must have been waiting for me, yeah sure, hmm...Can I give you a proposal?"
    Urnicus:"Tell us please, just tell us we don't want to suffer in this endless sounds of madness around us, we are just innoccent workers for Imperial crafting guild."
    Mad God:"I told you I have proposal for you mortals, I will make your lifes a honey and mead every day, butterflies in your eyes each and every day, everything will be gold around you!
    Pure riches!So what do you say?Hmaa..."

    Marcuvius:"Uncle, say yes please say yes! It must have been the divines who sent us this miracle!"
    Urnicus:"Marcuvius, we don't know who is this creature how can we trust it?"
    Marcuvius:"Do you want to spent your whole life here as a hunter and miner for the Imperial elite?No, I think you don't want that..."
    Mad God:"Soo, did you brew your thoughts yet? The work is not going to do for it self.Please just say yes or noo!Hah.. Espuento you little leaf under the bottom of an Orc..."

    Urnicus:"YES, we say yes, make our lifes better, tell us what do you want us to do?"

    Everthing started to almost disolve in brightest light they have ever seen, Marcuvius couldn't belive he actually was an butterfly accompanied with his uncle Urnicus, they were travelling in the void!

    But when they finished that split second travel which seemed to them as eternity, they realized they were at Sheogoraths mad realm called Shivering Isles!
    You could hear everywhere mad songs, people crazy from happiness and wealth, you could hear here and there "Cheeese, cheese for everyone!", they remembered that sentence very well!Or maybe not?

    Urnicus:"What is this place?! What have you done to us? Who are you actually?!"
    Mad God:"I'm Sheogorath, the shadow in your subconscious, a blemish on your fragile little psyche. You know me. You just don't know it ... You can call me Ann Marie. But only if you're partial to being flayed alive
    and having an angry immortal skip rope with your entrails.
    If not, then call me Sheogorath, Daedric Prince of Madness. Charmed"

    Marcuvius:"Hmm, somehow like I heard this line before, just don't know from where, must have been my cold breakfeast...or..."
    Urnicus:"I knew it we are cursed for all eternities, why did I listened to you..."

    Sheogorath:"You don't know me, I don't know you, but do you know me if I know you actually?I think you do just remember those adventures with your little fingers on the waste land of buttons, you will figure it out I know!Hah! Hahaha! Hah!"
    Narrator: (LMAO)

    Urnicus:"Please tell us what you want from us and what do we have to do for you?Why are we taken as some kind of trophie for mad people?"
    Sheogorath:"You have been chosen, tooo, toooo, to-to-to take these friends of mine, and make them company for all eternity!Why? Because I want so?Why? Beacuse they haven't had company for a long, very long time.Every word with them could help them out!
    It's like you, you, yes you, use your one hand for something else, the other hand for something else, and then you realize you don't have hands!Haa!"

    Marcuvius:"I don't understand this crazy mister, uncle what is he talking about?"
    Urnicus:"I think that's why they call him Mad God, I have red about this but I thought these were only legends, seems it's true..."
    Urnicus:"Alright, Mad God where are your friends you talk about?"

    Sheogorath:"(blink, blaa, bluu klik, klik, scrolls), ah Espuento please give these two kind peoples the "bags", now Espuento hurry up!Now!Leave that guar alone!Ahh.."
    Espuento:"Here is it, Shelli, the "bags" wait for the chosen ones."
    Sheogorath:"Please don't call me Shelli in front of guests, ahh...Mortals, follow me!"

    Then the mortals saw the bags, when they opened them, they couldn't belive, living talking heads of people were inside of them!
    In each of those bags, there have been ten bags of them, there was an race head from Tamriel!
    Who would thought Sheogorath would take each one of those heads for his friends, but as he didn't have time to spent to make them company, he directed the chosen mortals to do that.Sheogorath is a busy God, he is very busy with his madness realm and mortal affairs he couldn't find
    some time to waste on those noddle friends!

    Urnicus:"Damn you mad God you are...mad I suppose, what do we have to do with those noddle people-people??"
    Sheogorath:"Make them accompanied for some time, hmm some time hahahahaahahahahah HA I will visit you sometimes and when I do that, I will do that again! Haa!"

    So when the couple was preparing for leaving the Shivering Isles, Marcuvius decided to visit the local inn called "Insane, you welcome!", where he brought three of his noddle friends with him.
    He thought nothing serious could happen, but he met a strange person, dressed all in black he couldn't even see his face or hands from the gloves, that person offered him a bet.

    Unknown:"Hey you, yes you the guy with three heads, come here I want to speak with you!"
    Marcuvius:"Yes?What do you want from me?"
    Unknown:"I was interested in having those three souvenirs you carry around, would be interested in having a talking Khajiit head accompanied with Nord and Orc.What a life would that be, having dinner with my noddle friends, taking bath with them and carry them around!Wow so many possibilites to choose."
    I know you have been brought here because of Sheogorath, so I can help you and your uncle to escape from his madness, are you interested?"

    Marcuvius:How, how do you know all that? I suppose you can help us, I mean I miss my cold cottage and working with my uncle in Mine of Corinthias in the Great Forest, it was all better than it is now, I can't take this madness anymore!Yes help us, I will give you the noddle friends!"

    Ahh, who would thought Marcuvius would do such thing against Sheogoraths very very important friends, Marcuvius gave the three heads to the mysterious man and never seen him again.
    When Sheogorath found out about this, who knows how could he find out that, he is a Mad God there are plenty possibilites, he cursed the mortals to eternal company with the remaining heads of all races of Tamriel.
    The mortals where in a time prison, where they couldn't reach any reality of the Tamriel.

    But we will remember them as brave heros who tried to take a better life in their hands, and who would try to escape from the Mad God himself.
    Some say Sheogorath blessed them with his insanity so they can experience his powers, some say they got a special place in his realm.
    Who knows but only thing that, sometimes is good to be happy with what you have now and not to reach for something which is unreachable.
  • RazielDERF
    The dead men you see in the picture are victims from the Assassin's Guild. They were taken out by the Thieves Guild in an apparent ambush. The thieves even stripped them of their clothes. The rookie assassins are not so much the intended targets but rather collateral damage. This story gets deeper as you discover that the guilds have been at war for generations. Fighting over turfs and control over underground activities, even loved ones. Guildmaster Elise, a beautiful Kaljit, leads the thieves as Viros, Elise's lost orphan brother, leads the assassins. They don't know if each other because of the loyal secrecy both guilds honor.

    If you want to hear the rest of this story then pick mine to win!
  • Kre
    “Well who be it here?! My favorite flesh bag it seems. Sorry for the summons but I had to show ya my latest, er oldest…I mean earlier, possibly later, fantastical wonder! These lovely two used to be a traveling duo, they make my day, every day and twice on Sundas! Ha! So I thought I’d share….”
    Sheogorath grins slightly.
    “That one there staring blankly…no, the other one, the one with his mouth hanging open. He was such a stick in the pie that one. I bet him I could make him laugh so hard he’d die of laughnin, and the other well, he bet his mothers head that I couldn’t bounce on mine! Ha! Pretty sure he laughed more at his mother’s severed head than he did at me bouncing. Who knew I’d do him a favor…that he’d repay a thousand times. It’s rude not to laugh at a man bouncing on his head you know?”
    I'll stab you. I'll stab you until your dead. Then, I will stab you again. Just to be sure that your dead.
  • zukahnautb16_ESO
    Soul Shriven
    “Free tickets or not,” Wilmot said to Nils, “I’m sure Southpoint is ripe with better ways to spend a Fredas evening. Look at this place! The venue doesn’t exactly advertise quality, does it?”

    Nils cuffed Wilmot on the back of his head. “Stop your bellyaching, you damned milkdrinker! I thought you were above judging a book by its cover, after seeing the Bosmer you bedded last night.”

    “Damned elf slipped something into my drink,” Wilmot grumbled. “I’m telling you, we’ll find no bard with an ounce of talent—or self respect—performing inside this place. It’s a cottage!”

    “What are you now, an architect? The ticket says the Sweetbreeze Nightclub, just like that sign by the door. It also says there will be a surprise performance by a guest known all through Tamriel, and—most important, I think we agreed—it says drinks are complimentary for the evening. And since you lost all of our septims by being so unscrupulous last night…” Nils held out Wilmot’s ticket and let it hang in the air alongside his accusation.

    The pair of Nords were greeted at the door of Sweetbreeze by a Bosmer lass who smelled of soil and pumpkins. She accepted their tickets without glancing at them and led them to the door of a cellar, her hand upon Wilmot’s shoulder. Wilmot wrinkled his nose at the fragrant red-brown soil underneath her fingernails.

    “Not just a cottage,” Wilmot hissed into Nils’ ear, “the cellar of a cottage.”

    Nils pointedly turned his ear away. “When does the performance start?” he asked the hostess.

    “Immediately,” she told them. “You are just in time.”

    “And the drinks?” Wilmot asked.

    “You’ll find a pair of empty chairs with full mugs at the bottom of the stairs.”

    The Nords bickered in hushed voices all the way down to the cellar, but they took their seats. The cellar was dark. They could see nothing beyond the pool of light from upstairs where they sat, except for the torch-ringed stage.

    “Rotmeth,” Wilmot spat, sipping from his mug.

    “What did you expect?” Nils grunted. “Mead? We’re in Valenwood.”

    “Fermented meat…Why can’t they use honey like a civilized people?”

    “Just plug your nose and drink until you can’t taste anymore.”

    “That’s what got me in trouble with the Bosmer last night.”

    “Shh, it’s starting.”

    A cloaked and hooded figure had stepped through the ring of torches onstage. It stood in the quiet—Nils and Wilmot were suddenly aware of just how quiet the cellar was apart from them. How many others were actually down here with them in the dark?

    The mystery performer began to sing. The words sounded like jibberish, if hauntingly beautiful. “What is that, Ayleid?” Wilmot asked, but Nils couldn’t answer.

    “Oh, no,” Wilmot slurred. “Not again.” He turned his mug upside-down, pouring out the tainted rothmeth. Too late. He propped it on his knee to look at it, his limbs suddenly feeling heavy as horkers. “Drugged again. Stop…stop laughing. You damned mug. Stop laughing!”
    I make comics! Read ZUKAHNAUT and SKYRIM NEEDS DRAGONSLAYERS for free online.



  • c.reevesnub19_ESO
    My Confession

    Loneliness abates me. Surely I would have failed to notice but it had affected my work as of late. A while back I had resolved to confine myself to an uninhabited area so I could focus solely on my profession without the interference of common-folk. Regrettably, my biological research borderlines the majority of lawful acts. Apparently people do not find it acceptable to dig up their dead relatives to determine a cause of death, even when it could further advance modern medicine. No, they are more focused on the religious sanctification of the dead than of curing diseases that affect the living. But I digress; loneliness.

    As a human being I am afflicted with the emotions that correlate to such an existence. I attempted to solve my issue by burying myself with work. It was to no avail. Sleep eluded me for days. My cognitive abilities were impaired to such a state that basic arithmetic had transitioned into an unknown language. Hallucination was becoming common and I feared that my mind was losing grip on reality.

    Much to my relief an earnest band of adventurers stumbled into my encampment. When they discovered my occupational residence they were all but shocked at my unscrupulous surroundings. Since I was alone I failed to keep the place socially hospitable. My work was strewn about the place in an exceedingly disorganized fashion. Grateful for their presence I immediately offered them what accommodations I could. They agreed to stay for the evening, accepting what food and drink I could offer.

    Their demeanor was pure-hearted and eager. They spoke fervently, boasting of previous conquests and rallying feats. Consequently, this led to an interesting but flawed debate amongst them. The large Nord-looking fellow belched out his favor and emphasized heavily on his ferocity, convinced it was the only way to defeat those who opposed him. As he argued he took up one of my research skulls in hand holding it comparatively. Another companion, Breton perhaps, chimed in arguing deftness and tact. The elder of the group joined in to suggest that by combining their skills together they could be the heroes to claim the Ruby Throne and restore order back to Tamriel. Now I have heard some ‘tavern talk’ in my day, especially as an unorthodox researcher, but it seemed that what the man said had resonated with the group. Their noisiness had peacefully subsided and they all lingered there quietly in contemplation.

    But after a few minutes I realized they were not meditating at all. I quickly scrambled to get a look at the bottle resting on the table only to realize that they had been drinking a mixture derived from Nirnroot. Horrified at the scene that lay before me I had no choice but to run. The next morning I concluded only to resolve my guilt and make amends for this unbearable tragedy - I would aspire to become a hero for Tamriel and hide this secret forever.
  • Forcebuster
    Thunk. Skritch. Thunk. Skritch.

    I let out a sigh, as I pass the back of my hand across my brow, brushing away the sweat. My work halted, I smile as the muffled sound of music greets my ears. It drifts me away for a song, or two. When I look back down to my work, I notice it has become darker, and decide it is enough for today. Leaning my rake against the fence, I make my way into my tiny house. I pat the dirt from my robes, and cross over to my pitcher of water. Grabbing a rag, I dampen it, and wash my face.

    Satchel in tow, I make my way to the Inn close by. By now, I had made this trip a few times, and surely granted myself a less than favorable title from the villagers. I suppose that's to be expected, but my love deserves to play before new faces every night, and new faces he shall have!

    As I enter the Inn, I search the room for travelers, and spot a couple already neck deep in drink. Pushing away some stray hair behind my ear, I make my way to them. I place my satchel on the counter, and nod to the barkeep.

    He frowns, but nods back to me, and takes the satchel from the counter. He may not like his work, but he is paid handsomely enough. When the Redguards sneak a peek at me, I flash a sweet smile to them, and strike up a conversation. While they are distracted by my conversation, the barkeep drips some of my concoction into their drinks, then hands me my own. I toast them to friendship, and safe travels.

    Slowly, my concoction begins to work, and I mention to them that the Inn is rather expensive, and that they are more than welcome to stay in my home for free. They agree, pay the barkeep, and follow me home. By the time we get there, they are suspicious, but extremely drowsy. They couldn't even put up a fight as I thrust my dagger into their chests.

    I drag them both onto a pallet of wood that I had tied a bit of rope to, and pull them into my home. I go to the cellar door, open it, then drop the bodies down. Carefully, I make my way down after them, the sobs of my beloved growing louder.

    "Look, my love! New faces for your audience! Play for us!"

    I smile to him as his tremulous voice begins to sing. I drag them one at a time to the chairs I had set up, and position them in a fashion that would please my beloved. I then sit myself on the floor before his stage. Closing my eyes, I sway to and fro along with his music.

    "My dear, sweet, Lobelathel
    Compared to her, another's beauty will surely fail.
    My love she owns, forever be,
    For all others are nothing to me!

This discussion has been closed.