Tales of the Dead 4 - Contest Entry Thread

Sindustrial

I stalked and crept upon my prey,
For their time of death drew today.

Let sing my arrows, four in all.
The first brother struck, he would fall.

Lest the second tell this tale.
I pierced his gut, without fail.

This gruesome scene, I used some jest.
Covering it up, I did my best.

To the eyes a drunken night.
None shall know of their plight.

For this contract, I did good.
I return now to my brotherhood.

justapriest

The Voiceless Dead

Of tears, and tales, and restless souls
Little is heard and less is known.
Questions hang.
Rumors crawl.
Where have these poor wanderers gone?

Their bones grow bare, bleached in sunlight.
A warning to all who pass by.
Perilous.
Arduous.
The fate of the foolish is nigh.

Unprepared and drunk on freedom,
Stumbling, crashing, bumbling buffoons.
Easy mark.
Sitting duck.
Death will come, so have a grand laugh.

Creatures of the wilds do not care.
The bones left behind, now playthings.
Wolves gnawing.
Ogres jest.
No one here will recite a prayer.

What luck! Free goods to loot and sell,
No thought spared for the reposing.
Lovely bread.
Decent sword.
Opportunity for the shrewd.

The wise are swift and take their gains.
Running before the ogres come.
Grab the bag.
Leave the bread.
Ogres have come to play once more.

Mocking those who once owned these bones.
Pin them up on display for all.
Ludicrous.
Dishonored.
Names forgotten, tales left untold.

Souls cry out in anguish and rage.
Ignored and powerless in death.
Impotent.
Spewing hate.
The voiceless dead cannot escape.

rhysrwb17_ESO1

The view was perfect; The bow held steady, the arrow retracted to as far back as the bow string would allow and the sights were entered on the unsuspecting prey. No distractions allowed for the perfect concentration needed for a guaranteed kill shot of the monstrous ogre foraging on her lands. The young Bosmer hunter let go of the arrow, keeping her position steady until the kill was guaranteed. Straight in the back of the head the arrow pierced, flinging the beast over a few barrels in which appeared to be a long abandoned camping site.

Suddenly, additional movement was detected ahead of the ogre; A second one was slowly getting up from what appeared to be a makeshift slumber. Thanking her lucky stars the beast was still waking up, she grabbed a second arrow from her quill and placing it in the still steady bow. Drawing back one again, she let fire, hitting the ogre between the eyes. She kept her stance for a short time to make sure there was no more additional movement, then she went down to explore the campsite further.

The site didn’t appear to be anything special save for a couple of old skeletons, one which appeared to be the result of a game of “Shoot the apple” gone wrong, with 3 arrows piercing the body in various places and the other skeleton had been skewed by a sword. “Probably Altmer rich boys who can’t hold their wine and pretended to be archers” she thought as she observed a cup on the ground, possibly used for consumption of wine. She picked up the cup to observe if it had any value, however what happened next was never expected.

New memories flooded into the hunters mind; memories of a group of Altmer spellswords whose quest was to explore various different Alyeid ruins to search for an artifact forgotten long ago by most; The Crown of Nellamia. The memory was clearer now, it was the last moments of the standing Altmer. Looking to his left, his brother was lying motionless with a blade pretruding from his body. His predicament was similar, with 2 arrows to the stomach and piercing the tree, he wasn’t moving anywhere. His hooded assailant, who was looking at him, bow drawn and all dressed in black, spoke with the evil piercing voice of a daedric prince “You have witnessed your brothers death first hand, and will experience a lot more pain before you will die unless you give me the name of the ruin you are visiting.. NOW”.. feeling defeated, the man muttered “Veyond”. Satisfied, the hooded assailant fired his bow and pierced the man’s skull, throwing the hunter back to the present.

She quickly grabbed her gear and set off in the direction of Cyrodill. What just happened? What was this crown? Who was the assailant? Why is she compelled to follow up on this?

To be continued...

Raash

Ockhams quest and the hunt for happiness

Chapter Eight - The bad day.

A long time ago, while I was travelling around searching for happiness, I saw this perculiar looking man walking back and forth reading what appeared to be a big book of some kind. I could tell he was a magician since the black robe he wore looked as sad and unhappy as the guy himself did.
I couldnt help but getting curious what he was up to so I decided to sneak on him.
As I drew closer i could hear he was swearing and cursing about how someone had made fun of him and that he would show them what true power looked like.
After a while he laughed in triumph, obviosly found what he was looking for in the book, and began to chant and dance in a way that would put any tavern dancer to shame. Suddently two skeletons manifest themselves out of thin air!
A necromancer! I was struck in horror!
But something was wrong with them. They didnt seem to move.
He made them go away and redid the process time and time again only to face the same result. Two skeletons doing absolutely nothing.
He tried to order them, scream at them and lastly begging them to move or do something at all. But they stood yet still.
The man was furious and yelled "I call for wraiths and and they send me useless bones!"
He finally gave up his tries, started to laugh manically and gave the skeletons the beating of the millenium and lastly nailed them onto a tree. He then left the scene - all while smiling the biggest smile I ever seen.

Today I can swear the same man is selling nutty hats at the city market. And he always look crazy happy!
So I guess one way to happiness is to have a really bad day just like he had!

maloneshanelb14a_ESO

Jarl and Carl's not so epic ale tale

Having spent several days on lookout for orcs, Carl looked about their camp, somewhat drunkenly bored and said to Jarl, "Hey Jarl, i bet ya cant shoot this ere' apple off me head. I bet ya cant Jarl."
Jarl replied, "Were here to watch for orcs Carl. Shut Up and keep your eyes out or i'll shoot them out."
Carl squinted at Jarl, "Ya, but then how would i look fer them orcs Jarl, ya didn't think of that did ya? I'll stand by that tree thar, and ill bet ya cant shoot this ere' apple of me head." Carl walked over to the tree and placed the apple on his head. "Com'on Jarl, i'll bet ya.. you can have some of me ale if you do it."
Jarl was rather thirsty having drank all of his days ago. "Alright Carl, your on!"
Feeling a little shaky he drew his bow, aiming at the apple as he was about to let his arrow go, his fingers slipped, the arrow flew low and caught Carl upon his leg.
"Ya shot me leg Jarl! Ya missed and got me leg!" screamed Carl.
"Shut up Carl, its only a flesh wound!" replied Jarl.
Jarl readied another arrow and released it, the arrow flew low and caught Carl in the stomach. "Ya missed and got me stomach Jarl!" yelled Carl again. Jarl quickly let another arrow fly hitting him in the stomach again. Carl let out another scream. Jarl could almost taste the ale and aimed higher, releasing the arrow it caught Carl in the eye. Carl screamed even louder, "Ya got me Eye!"
Jarl then replied, "Ya bloody win, im outta arrows." He went and sat next to the tree exhausted, flinging his sword up in the air it had got caught in the tree limbs, Jarl grimaced and and closed his eyes, a moment later he heard a cracking sound above him, "Oh crap..." The sword fell from the tree and stabbed him in the chest.
A week later 2 orcs passed by, looking at the skeletons, they grabbed the ale and left.

Moonglum83

Performance Issues

“This is a perfect spot to practice, brother! We need to make sure we get in good with that troupe, be convincin’ and all. I’m sure they’ll love seeing your trick with the apple!” Maleus’ enthusiasm for the art of winning people’s confidence was….commendable; or it would have been, if it wasn’t for the fact that he was as handy with a weapon as a priestess of Dibella was at being dull and chaste. Most of his successes were based on the fact that usually their targets were more focused on his handsome features, rather than what he was attempting to gain their confidence.

“Really Maleus? Is that why we travelled all the way from Anvil, dressed up like some Dunmer’s chambermaids? I tell you what, if you keep that Eight-forsaken tongue of yours quiet, I won’t accidentally hit you in the face with my arrows!” Kasterus was as harsh as his features. But what he lacked in grace and physical attributes, he made up with in intelligence.

“Sorry brother, I….I’ll be quiet….”

“Mmmph! Now go stand over there by the tree, with the apple on your head and stay very still. All you need to do is keep the sword spinning in front of you, like we practised, and stand still. That’s all! No smiling, no “working the crowd” and certainly NO IMPROVISATIONS! You remember what happened to that Khajiit merchant? He still has a bounty out on us, and I don’t want anything like THAT to happen again, do you understand?”

“Yes brother….”

Maleus walked over to the tree, feeling very sorry for himself. With his back pressed firmly against the tree with a bright red apple on his head, and spinning the long-bladed sword in front of him as instructed. Kasterus stood back, notching four arrows into his ornate bow. Feeling the right amount of tension, he moved to release them when he felt something thump him on the back. At first he thought it was simply his imagination, until he saw his four arrows skewer his brother to the tree; sword still spinning.

As he spun around, in total shock and slightly dazed, he was met full-face with an ogre; grinning with what could only be described as almost-teeth-but-more-like-spikes.

By now, the sword Maleus had been spinning was falling to the ground, but still moving with the momentum its former owner had endowed it with. Fortunately the sword found a new sheath; unfortunately for Kasterus, he was that sheath.

As he felt himself slip into death, he heard something impossible, yet strangely affirming. As the Ogre moved closer towards what used to be their camp, he swore he could hear him say: “Trick not bad. Need more practise?”

And so it was that the Giogori brothers parted from Nirn, with less than they started with but more than anyone could ever have – a positive review by an Ogre.

Word count: 484

Edit: amended Nine-forsaken tongue to Eight-forsaken. Forgot for a moment in which era I was.

Foxesz

"Hey brother, do you think it was a good idea stealing those shoes from the Ogres?"

The dark-haired bandit frowned deeply at his partner as he asked the question and then looked down at the shoes. "Well they don't really need shoes now, do they? They won't even know they're missing!"

The younger - and more handsome - looking bandit shuffled uneasily around the camp, his mind being filled with dread as the Ogres might want to take back the shoes. His fellow comrade chuckled and pulled him closer, giving him a friendly punch in the stomach. "Are you telling me that they're going to be pissed off, really? The only thing we need to be afraid of is other people like us, you know that, right?"

The young one shrugged his shoulders and moved back to "his" tree, resting his back against the trunk before sliding down. " I dunno, brother, what if those Ogres are clever and kill us and even eat us? I don't want to be Ogre stew, I really don't."

"Calm yourself down, you little brat! There's literally NOTHING to be afraid of! NOTHING," he shouted at his companion and and even tossed in a couple of swears meant for him.

"Be quiet, quiet! They'll find usss!" the other said in hush tones, anxious that they might get discovered.

"Boohoo! The Ogres are going to kill us and eat us, boohoo! You're sunch a pansy, you know that?! I should ju--..." The bandit groaned in agony as two arrows found their way into his stomach and forced him against the tree. His eyes widened in terror as he was unable to see who fired them. Twang! Another arrow buried itself in him, piercing through his shin.

"H-hgaahh... w-who...?" The man cried out, fearing his life might end right now.

"Not an Ogre," a voice in the dark replied before one final arrow found its way in his skull.

The young bandit sat there, mortified by seeing his partner used as target practice. He squinted his eyes and saw a figure stepping out of the shadows, smiling widely at the boy's fear. The stranger drew his sword and placed the tip against his belly. "You see now, 'Brother', for betraying me I'll leave you here for the Ogres and I hope for you that they don't eat your legs first."

"N-no, I'm sorry for... it was his idea, n-no, please!" He cried out before the sword entered him and the stranger stomped on his knees, shattering them and making any form of escape near impossible.

"Fare thee well, my Brother."

TheSteve1996

Indolanear's Journal

<This journal has a quill in it, you flip to the page with the quill and read>

Day 56
Coran and I have been traveling for about 8 weeks now and we've been doing pretty good for ourselves, we're about to stop here pretty soon, we're starting to run low on food and bones for tools and it's also getting dark, I can barely see the words I'm writing.

Day 57
Last night, Coran and I found a nice spot to make camp for the next few days, plenty of space and wildlife to hunt so we should do fine here and be able to grab any supplies we need and rest up.

Day 58
They camp is looking nice and everything is organized and neat. Tomorrow I'm going hunting for some fresh meat and bones for us.

Day 59
I saw some Wood Orcs while hunting yesterday, I don't think they saw me but I heard some strange rustling in the bushes last night. Maybe it was just a senche.

Day 60
It wasn't a senche, the damn Orcs attacked us in our sleep. Coran is injured and isn't strong enough to leave right now so we'll have to stay camped over night again and try to leave in the morning.

Day 61
I heard more rustling last night, but it doesn't matter, we're almost done packing and soon we'll be leaving this area and won't see these Orcs aga

<You notice the last journal entry is incomplete and smeared with blood, it appears the writer was killed.>

torterrx

Hunters sometimes travel in groups of two. This gives the group much flexibility when designing the day's plans. For instance, one of the hunters could hold down the camp while the other went out and hunted. Or, both could head out to double the catch rate, or even team up and take down a mammoth or a troll! Strength in numbers, as the wise saying went, strength in numbers.

However, numbers do not ensure victory, as one night, when one of the hunters was asleep, and the other was relieving himself behind a tree, It struck. Out of nowhere flew three arrows, all striking true into the standing hunter, pinning his body to the nearby tree. The second hunter awoke just in time to dodge several more arrows and scurried behind the tree. His victory in avoiding death was short-lived, for the attacker appeared next to him and stabbed his blade so far into the second hunter's neck that the blade got stuck. After several attempts at trying to yank it out, the Shadow Demon gave up, and melted back into the shadows.

Volldagora

Oh my children, sit by the fire as I will tell you the story of the young adventurers who were crossing the dangerous ogre mountains to reach Daggerfall.

There were two travelers – Gilbert the breton and Issan the redguard. They traveled deep into the mountains despite the hungry ogres who were known to attack travelling merchants and adventurers, yet the two companions pushed on and on until they decided to camp for the night.

It was cold and dark, and only the fire provided illumination from the darkness of the night and warmth from the dreaded cold. The two had just eaten their potatoes, but then they realized that their waterskins were empty. They argued about who should go to the nearest river and fill them up during the mother night, until Issan proposed a bet.

“If you do not shed fear while I tell you the most dreaded tale of these mountains – then I will fetch the water. But if you flinch, then you will do the honor,” eagerly said Issan. With Gilbert’s competitive approval, Issan began his tale, the tale of The Puppeteer.

The Puppeteer was an entity that resided in these mountains. It prayed upon he innocent travelers, killing them only to satiate his sick desires, his sick humor. Those who died by his hand, were found in a staged play, tragical yet comical. And the dead would move, and grin at the irony of the stage.

Gilbert, unlike Issan, always feared. He feared the unliving, the scary stories and curses told by many mer and men, and the magic that can rip out a man’s heart… or so he was told. Gilbert, although being a competitive breton, lost the bet to his fear, and so, with his shaky hands, he grabbed the waterskins and went to the river.

When he returned, he did not see Issan at the campfire. He looked behind the giant tree, and only then did he find Issan, dead with a sword sticking out of guts. Gilbert gasped, and did not notice a spray of arrows coming at him from the bushes. He died instantly as one of the arrows pierced his skull, but before death, he remembered Issan, dead but grinning…

My children, it was not the entity that gotten these travelers. Oh no, it was but the fearful bandits of these mountains who imitate the known tale of The Puppeteer, their leader being as twisted and sick in his mind as if he was The Puppeteer himself, staging their crimes as a mere play.

They took everything from these two travelers, scattered the food around them, and left the scene: Issan, dead on the ground as he succumbed to his wounds, with a potato on a tree pierced by the arrow, and Gilbert, dead but dramatic with a potato on his head.

And so, my children, this is the tale of the two travelers who, on a beautiful day, died like in a play.

Donum-Dei

Greetings...

... if you reading this, is because you have found my body and the one of my beloved. We have been play trying to survive in this awful time in Tamriel. But who knew our own blood would do this to us, our own family. Form all the beast and awful creatures that are in the wild, we never expect this from our people. It all started trying to escape from our own location where we knew each other instantly in maters of seconds as soon as we lay eyes on each other. Her and I and where getting out of the city, we where sad, scared and discomfort of what was going on, and all because of us. The details are not important but our short story might be.

While I was sharing a delightful afternoon, between friends and family I saw a huge ship arriving in the shores of the city. Many soldier where arriving on it as well, many secrecy where spread that afternoon and the upcoming months. A couple of days past, and people where getting recruit for unknown purposes. I was ready when I became of age to really decide where the desire of my hearth and mind was, until I meet her. Oh my what can I say, every desire and purpose that I had thought to fulfill for my own self in history, just vanish from my mind and hearth when I meet this gorgeous women. Tall and beautiful as me and very full of life and desire to fight for our alliance. As soon as we deiced not to, our own downfall begging, we where enlist together to serve and really protect, those that born and are getting raised in the same place we where living in. She wasn't allow to be part of the Alliance because she was to important, but so her desire to me, she enlist for me and I for her. As soon as we got married under the oath of our alliance, many of our brothers and sister weren't happy, because we decide to still complete our task even if our union was making us to walk a different path now. They abuse of their power to make an example of us, it wasn't because jealousy of her and me, but duty.

I'm sorry I wont be able to write more or even her name, or even mine, even my name doesn't matter at all. I am even crying with pain, but not for what may come unto me, but for her, her body rotten next to mine, so close but yet so far. With all those bows and bruises in her beautiful skin and face, along with other awful stories that has been mark in her body with those hands of this so called brothers and sisters. Watching how her beauty fades away, and flies eat her like a delicious banquet, my pain is more because I won't even get to tell her name so you can remember her, at least for me. So her beauty can be for eternity

P.s. They have allow me to write this and only this words...

rubherducky

Love can do strange things to a person. Love can mend an old wound better than any priest, or twist a man into a vile and selfish monster. This, my friends, is the tale of the latter.

Kylius marched on, gaze fixed on the path ahead of them. He held her hand just a little bit too tight that day, tugging her along the old dusty path. The air was thick with ash and malicious intent, crawling down the Dark Elves' throats and sapping the breath from their throats. The womer beside him coughed into her shoulder, looking up at Kylius with cloudy ruby eyes.

"Where are you taking me, darling?" she asked, glancing around as the scenery took a drastic change. Lush green vegetation crept its way out of the ground and cushioned the once barren path. She'd never been this far away from home, but Kylius was a noble guard and lover- there was no fear in her heart.

"A picnic, my dear," the elf answered, leading her off of the path and into a private little thicket of trees, far from the eyes of passing travelers. He set the bedrolls down at the base of a tall oak, pulling out a piece of parchment and a long, sturdy arrow disguised- with magic- as a simple quill. "But first, I wish to capture your beauty with this quill. Please, stand against the tree and pose. Do not move."

Flattered, she leaned against the trunk and modeled for her lover.

"You are more beautiful than The Lady, more striking than Secunda," Kylius said, pretending to scratch at the parchment with the fake quill. "My whole life I have served as your guard, loving you and protecting you from harm. Never did I think you would return the intense love I felt for you." He paused for a moment to pull the bow from his back, a terrifying look in his eyes. "I was a fool to think it. I know you are unfaithful to me! If I cannot have you to myself, then Nirn will mourn the loss of your beauty, and your lover will know the pain of losing you too!"

Love can do strange things to a person. Love can mend an old wound better than any priest, or twist a man into a vile and selfish monster. As the two skeletons tell, my friends, perhaps it may be wiser to never fall in love at all.

HarlequinValentine

Journal of Erlwing Dornhollow

4th First Seed.
Her eyes are golden pools. Her hair is spun silver. Of all the jewels in my possession, her hand would be my crowning achievement. My younger brother Glarnor – fool of a Bosmer, believes that her dresses should be lain aside his quiver. That his youth and looks are more valuable than my knowledge and wealth. I’ll show him. I’ll prove once and for all that it will be my arrow that claims her heart… My beautiful Faerwin.

5th First Seed.
The challenge has been set. Glarnor and I will hold an archery competition, the winner of which will be free to pursue my beloved’s affection without contest. He thinks because he hunts the wilds of the woods that he is assured of victory, but his eyes are blinded by his youth, he doesn’t stand a chance against my superior intellect.

6th First Seed.
We made camp a few miles South of the village, none will bother us here while we decide who my dear Faerwin will adjoin with. We shall have three rounds of contest. The first will test our skill with a stationary target, the second our ability to hit an apple from atop the others head – a feat of nerves. The third and final part will be a hunt, to determine who can bring down the most dangerous quarry. Glarnor is overly confident, but my skills will prove his undoing…It wont be long now, my love…

7th First Seed.
That damnable whelp! One lucky shot won him the first of our contests, but there is still the apple shot – and the hunt. He is drunk with pride, marking me as the fool for having challenged him to this duel of arrows. I’ll show him… Right now he is boasting his superiority, even in the wine and meat he had brought with him to celebrate his “impending victory”. Idiot…

8th First Seed.
It is done… Glarnor rests in a jester’s grave while I remain, the victor. I can’t wait to tell Faerwin the good news, ofcourse I shall have to embellish some of the minor details to create a fitting end for my brother. He actually believed I would allow him to prove his worth in a hunt! I have seen his home, the pelts of werewolves and hands of trolls. No. I beat him with my mind, and a couple of arrows. An apple-shot… What a fool! He never even got to enjoy the wine, but I will drink his share. It is only fair not to waste it.

…That blasted, impudent scoundrel of a Bos, he had slipped something into the wine, knew I would be the one to drink it. Knew I would win Faerwin’s heart… I feel the poison in my limbs – slow and leaden, but I’m sure all I need is a rest. I will give my love the news of my victory on the morrow… Just need a good night sleep, very tired… Can hardly write…

ajgrahl_ESO

Journal of Sorenian Catelli

Entry 1
Curse that Rogorz! Damn orc is stubborn as he is ugly. But we’ll get back every coin we lost to him, or else.

Entry 2
Word around the tavern is that Rogorz has a daughter. A beautiful daughter. Didn't think orcs could be beautiful, but it matters not. If he does not want to give us back our coin, we can take the girl as payment!

Entry 3
Su’rabi and I snuck into Rogorz’ camp last night and found that daughter of his. Not bad on the eyes, I must say! We, ehh, “stayed” a little longer than planned, but I don’t think anyone saw us…

Entry 4
Nocturnal smiles upon us! Rogorz has challenged us to an archery contest! Archery! I’m the best archer in the land, and Su'rabi's not that bad either. We're sure to win! About time our luck changed!

Skeptikitten

Twang
The sound of the arrow reverberated in the clearing. Lucan leaned on his long bow watching as his partner worked their latest score.
“Oh come now sweetling, stop blubbering.” Gavros was clearly enjoying this one. “Tell us when the rest of ye're people are coming.”
Gulping sobs joined the afternoon chatter of wood wrens and crickets. She was a pretty one, this Breton. Mongrels all of them with their damned knife ears, but still...she was easy on the eyes. Lucan stifled a yawn as Gavros continued.
“I'll deal fair with ye see?” he grinned “If you tell me true, no harm will come to ye.” The girl looked up at him. She was backed up against the trunk of a large oxwood tree, potato pinned above her head, shoulder to shoulder with her man who was all but biting through his lip in his effort to not get them both killed. “But if ye don't...ye're man here will pay the toll see?”
With that, Gavors let fly the bolt in his crossbow. Lucan couldn't recall where he had picked it up but he prided himself on his prowess with it. The bolt in question impaled the man's right forearm and pinned it to the tree, eliciting a scream of pain. Her shriek seemed for a moment to harmonize with his before being choked off.
She shook her head violently “There's no one”
Twang
The second bolt shredded the man's calf muscle and rendered him a sweating, shuddering mess.
“Perard!” she cried, attempting to reach for him only to freeze at the sight of the crossbow aimed at her face.
“Ye're not being very kind to your man my dove, just tell me what I want to know you can live out your little life with this cripple.” He grinned again. She stared at him, mutely resolute.
Twang
The third bolt buried itself solidly in the man's gut. He let out his breath in a woosh and writhed against the pinions holding him in place on the tree that was to become his grave.
The Breton woman fixed Gavros with a searing glare and snarled at him, “May Sheor haunt your steps until the day Akatosh burns your soul to ash!”
Lucans' brows lifted, curses were always fun. So many interlopers from the outlying provinces, came into Cyrodil to squat on land that wasn't theirs, only to turn indignant when the same was done to them, so to speak.
“Last chance”
She spat at him, surprisingly accurately, hitting his chest. Gavros sighed and let fly his last bolt, killing the man instantly as it entered his brain. Lucan shifted his weight, stepped forward and ran the woman through. He turned with Gavros to the overturned wagon and began rifling through it to the sound of her death rattle.
'It was always the pretty ones who ended up badly.'

Dicone

Journal found in a home in Arenthia:

What have I done!? My poor boy left earlier this week with that idiot friend of his, Monk. They are just taking foodstuffs to sell in Dune, but now I have grave fears for his safety! Oh no, how can I catch up to them to warn them?

Before they departed, I was reorganising their supplies for them, making sure they had packed everything. When I was checking through their equipment I noticed an odd contraption. On closer inspection, I found it was a wooden box, with what appeared to be a stand, and a pull string coming from it. The box had some fancy gears and strings inside, as well as some completely useless arrows! The arrows were just the shafts with sticky glob of wax on them. That would not help them at all, so I knew I should fix it for them, and I replaced them with nice strong Orcish arrows I had left over from my days in the military.

And there was a sword in there as well, but the blade felt rubbery and weak to me, so I took it to the blacksmith to have the blade replaced with something that would do them good in a fight.

But alas! Today, when I was cleaning his room, I found this note under his bed:

-- Start Entry:
We are so smart! Monk and I must travel dangerous roads in our line of work, and none of the denizens of this place frighten us more than the ogres. But the ogres only care about live pray that they can chase and toy with. Dead animals they seem to ignore completely.

The ogre’s weakness is their eyesight! We have not chanced upon an ogre up close, but we have heard that they do not see things properly until they are near, and even then they must look closely for their feeble minds to interpret what they see.

Monk and I have a very cunning plan. If ogres come upon us, we will surely see them before they see us. If we cannot run, we will pretend to be dead already! Monk will pretend to be stabbed with a pretend sword we have made, and I have made a very clever contraption that I can use to quickly fire pretend arrows at myself - with no tips and wax on the shafts to make them stick to me and make it look like I have been riddled with actual arrows! It is genius!
-- End Entry

Oh dear oh dear, what have I done!? Travellers that wander from the path are sometimes not found for months or years! Oh my, I think I’m working myself into a state, I mustn’t worry so much. Surely he’ll be ok…surely he’ll double check his equipment before he uses it.

I must pray to a shrine of Z’en to help bring my poor boy, little Benedictine, home safely to me.

Clover

(Words: 498)

Trevize2888

Lovers Lost

Tirdas, 11th day of First Seed, 3E 188
We’re finally doing it. Learnas has packed a cart of supplies and we are escaping this place.
My father be damned!
We will prove him wrong. It is almost time and I must prepare myself. We leave an hour before sunrise.

Loredas, 22nd of First Seed, 3E 188
My beloved Learnas has guided us north for eleven days. Soon we will be in Arenthia, and then our final journey into Cyrodiil begins.
Despite the hard days and the cold nights, my love for him grows stronger with each step.

Middas, 26th of First Seed, 3E 188
My father, curse his hide, has placed a bounty on Learnas’ head!
As we approached Arenthia, I spotted a wanted poster with his face on it. I am shaking with rage and tears stain these pages as I write.
Learnas has a plan to find crossing into Elsweyr, in the hope that the city of Dune will hide us until my father grows weary of his search. We are forced to take paths that have not been used in years.

Sundas, 1st of Rain’s Hand. 3E 188
The cart has lost a wheel.
Most of our supplies and clothing went into the mud. I grow weary and Learnas face has become drawn as if aged. We have set up a small camp and I can only watch as my beloved attempts to repair the damage.
For the first time, I have doubts about our choice to leave home.

Morndas, 2nd of Rain’s Hand, 3E 188
Learnas spotted a fire a way off last night and went to try and find help.
He has not returned yet and I am filled with a sense of dread.

Morndas, 2nd of Rain’s Hand, 3E 188
My hands tremble as I write this.
Learnas has returned with a group of bandits. I heard their approach and have hidden as best I can. But they have moved their camp to ours.
I am trapped here.
He is pleading for his life. Insisting that he is the only one here but they have seen my clothes. May the eight divines protect me…


They killed him.
Got bored of their practise targets and tied him to a tree. All I could do was watch.

I couldn’t move. My beloved is gone and my heart is empty.

They will hear my sobs and come for me next.

Father I’m sorry.

Gan Xing

Never trust a stranger with a bow.

Especially you are drunk.

Needless to say, Argwan and Grinn did not listen to this. The two adventurers had already stirred up enough trouble in Daggerfall after causing a ruckus at The Rosy Lion and stealing from the Daggerfall Market.

Sadly, they stole from the wrong person. As it turns out the camping equipment and baggage was ordered by the banker Angier Stower's uncle. Rich and easily angered, soon enough there was a bounty on Argwan and Grinn's head: 5,000 gold. Enough to make anyone willing to do the deed.

A poor, desperate Breton was the one to find them, counting up their loot and balancing stolen goods on their head, all the while, still drinking.

After Grinn fell asleep, the Breton walked up, prepared to strike down the two. Argwan, noticing the fellow, dares this young man to pull a William Tell, and shoot the piece of bread off his head with a bow. Realizing that his opportunity was nonetheless made significantly easier, the Breton agreed.

Taking the Bow and four arrows, he prepared to fire.
First he shot Argwan's stomach, pinning him against the tree. Then, in quick succession, he shot both Argwen's leg and arms, securing him against the tree.

Luckily Grinn had not awoken to Argwan's screams.
The Breton smiled, grabbed Argwan's sword from the sheath and plunged it into Grinn. Grinn never saw the light of day.

The Breton then walked over to Argwan, peered him in the eye, said, "Thanks for the 5,000." and shot an arrow in Argwan's face, piercing his cheek and killing him.

After collecting the valuables, the Breton lured some ogres to the area, and left to collect his payment.

Elara_Northwind

One blistering Sundas, Sun’s Height,
Whilst glugging at mead in the moonlight,
A drunken man spoke,
Listen up all you folk,
Tirdas, is the day of the good fight!

One day a year, in Camlorn,
The Orcs, Redguards and Breton born,
All gather in the fields,
With their staffs and their shields,
Their swords glinting gold amid the corn.

All worthy adults in town,
The next morning, touched swords with a frown,
Concentration was vital,
To earning the title
And winning Camlorn’s combatant crown.

Elara, the Breton, Templar trained,
Practiced all night, through the stormy rain,
She yearned for that crown,
To be the hero in town,
And nothing would stand in her way!

Next morning, at sunrise, it started,
The valiant, the brave and the fool hearted,
All manner of folks,
Gathered readily amidst the oaks,
To either triumph or be beaten or outsmarted.

First challenge for Elara, was an elf,
A tiny little maiden, full of stealth,
So charming and sweet,
But in an instant, she was beat,
And for the next challenge, she readied herself.

A knight, with a shield made of steel,
Knocked Elara down to her heels,
But a second too late,
He turned to celebrate,
And she speared him with a power that made him squeal.

She was ready to face her last contender,
And receive her crown, full of splendor,
When out from the trees,
A terrible beast,
Caused all those around to surrender

Elara stood her ground, among the trees,
The foul stench of the beast sailing with the breeze,
Men fled from the scene,
Weak and obscene,
She would bring this brute down to his knees!

Before she could draw out her sword,
She heard a cry from a challenger Nord,
She turned for just a moment,
A moment forever frozen,
And that was the end of this Breton born!

Dear Elara will always be remembered,
As Camlorn’s bravest contender,
For she took on the beast,
But ended up as his feast,
And this saved the whole town from being dismembered!

Forgamin

Day 8
I've dreamt of a palace. Strange, as I vividly remember. Full of unorganized ornamets, cheese on the tables, a monkey performing a lute and dance routine. Told my companion 'bout this dream of mine, he didn't bother, said I was stupid for trying to understand a dream.

Day 9
As we camp here, we know that these ogres do not welcome us.

Day 11
The daedric prince of madness came before us yesterday. My companion and I were confused as much as Sheogorath was confused about himself. I thought it would be best not to panic. My companion, on the other hand, was shaking. He knew nothing good would come out of interacting with the daedric prince of madness.

Our interaction with him went better than expected, and by expected I mean he simply left us a sack of potatoes. Said these were magical items disguised as potatoes and that throwing these magic potatoes would control the ogres, who were getting aggressive every passing day. After that, he gave my companion a slice of cheese for whatever reason and left. My companion advised that it would be better if we simply throw these "magical" potatoes away, as he ate his cheese slice.

Day 12
Strange, I do feel a magical aura emanating from these potatoes. Perhaps my interaction with the daedric prince made me slightly insane.

Day 13
After convincing my companion, he and I decided to test these "magical" potatoes by throwing them at one of the ogres from a safe distance.

At first we thought that there was no possible way to control these beasts. We simply laughed off the fact that we even tried. However, the strangest thing did happen. The ogre that was hit began to examine its surroundings, grabbed the bow and some arrows near our camp.

We decided to throw one at another ogre. It did the same thing as the first one did, except this time it took my blade.

After a thorough discussion with my companion, we have concluded that these potatoes were indeed magical. A magical potato of intelligence, to be precise. It would seem that whatever beast hit by these potatoes would gain enough intelligence to interact and examine its surroundings.

My companion told me that we should try convincing these ogres to join our cause. Perhaps this is what Sheogorath meant by controlling these beasts.

We are walking towards our camp as I write this.

My companion is now trying to convi-

Ben.Holtonb16_ESO

The Ogre Twins

Bog did not like his sister. In fact he would often tell her,

"Yur dumb!"

To which Urrgka would reply,

"Shurt up, dog-breath!"

And then punch him in the side of the head, it was a loving relationship to say the least. But then this was understandable considering that they were ogre twins. They had been born at exactly the same time; an excruciatingly painful birth that had not only killed their mother but had done so by splitting her in twain. Their dad had been reportedly irritated by the incident and so had abandoned the twins. Which explained why instead of using the commonly accepted ogre sign-language (in other words, point and punch) they also communicated through a rather primitive and incoherent form of common.

Due to their frequent fights, both twins where horrifically deformed, and their posture reflected this perfectly. Due to being broken so many times Urrgka's spine was so hunched over, that had her head been twice the size, it still would have been just as insignificant in comparison to her huge back. Bog whose right leg was shriveled and broken, walked along using his right arm as a substitute. During one particular walk the twins came across two hunters having a crossbow contest, and decided they would join in.

After knocking down the previous target they lined the hunters up by a tree and put a potato on each of their heads; warning them that moving was perilous to the future of their limbs, and then with a thud Bog sat down (in order to free up his right arm). To his dismay he discovered that his fingers were too blistered and bulbous to work the mechanism, and so decided to throw the bolts instead. Four cries of pain and a slow death later Urrgka took her turn.

Her first attempt to load the crossbow resulted in a small explosion followed by the rapid production of copious amounts of splinters, the next attempt with Bog's discarded crossbow was massively more successful. She took her aim and fired. The bolt sailed through the air, straight into the potato, pinning it to the tree. The relieved hunter let out a deep sigh, however Bog let out a roar.

“Yur missed the meat-bag, I win. HA HA HA!”

Urrgka was not pleased, she grabbed a great sword from the hunters’ tent and drove in forcefully down through the hunter’s pelvis, leaving him sat against the tree in a pool of his own shimmering blood.

“HA, no miss now.”

Both twins burst into loud and torturous laughter at Urrgka’s witty comment. The thunderous laughing continued for a minute, until both twins had forgotten the very reason that they had been laughing.

“Wut we do now?”

MIng_ESO

New Potatoes Old Bones...Oh MY

I always enjoyed my rides across Tamriel. I had worked hard for my little Bay Mare and never tired of riding her.

I found myself riding and forgetting jobs and quest. But so many times something would wake me up. Like the day I ran across the old Tournament grounds. Most tents had been taken but too many empty barrels were left after the mead drank. Way too much trash left behind. My Bay snorted giving me warning so we dipped back into the woods. I slipped off an watch some big ugly walk out from under a lean to. He staggered a few feet then fell on his face. Passed out from too much mead.

I decided to take the lean to down. It was still good, I wondered why it had been left behind. When I stepped under it I realized a large tree had hidden some bodies. A target lay on the ground but a body had taken its place. I guess someone missed the Potatoe on the guys head. Another body lay close with another object plunged into it. Maybe that was his prize for missing the Potatoe. I guess I missed a good party.

The barrel still had mead in it. Guess that was what the ugly guy had drank. I found myself wishing I had a wagon so I could take the mead and the lean to. I thanked the old bones for the lean to, leaped upon my Bay mare and loped on to see what was waiting around the next turn. Always something when you rode the wilds of Tamriel.

I could not help wonder why the potatoes were still good so long after the bodies had deteriorated. Someone or something was still using the bones for potato practice? I kicked my bay into third gear. In Tamriel, sometimes you need to fight sometimes you need to RUN!!



As MIng rode away she did not hear the Orc wake and then speak;

Mom I Also Did Clean My Nose

What spell is this that cleans ones bones?
Yet leaves the potato untouched and fresh.
I am thinking it is in the arrow but no, the other
Body has no arrow which protruded its once warm flesh.

It must be the worms that are under my feet
Perhaps on this barrel I should leap.
But I have a bed roll and I wanted to sleep.
Oh, it was I who ate them as they did weep.

Silly I to forget the lovely meal.
The potatoes I did not even peal.
But meat on the bones I cleaned those
Like mom told me to clean my nose.

Huggernaut

ZOS_GinaBruno wrote: »

Journal Entry for Bjorn Stonebottom Year 2E 582 Sundas, 6. Morning Star

Dear Diary,

I was out in the woods alone today practicing my battle cry. I mean, even the most proud nord tires of hearing "Victory... or Sovngarde!" if shouted enough, especially if they are busy trying to drink! HA!

I only mention my training because, it explains why I didn't hear her sneak up on me, the most beautiful woman I have ever met, and the sneakiest, but don't tell her I said that HA!, she'd skin me alive.


Journal Entry for Bjorn Stonebottom Year 2E 582 Loredas, 26 Sun's Height

Dear Diary,

Next Month is our annual get together. We're totally going win the archery competition this year! Ulrik and I have been practicing this new trick, and if we nail it, well, let's just say our kinfolks won't ever look at an apple the same way again. Ha!

I at least hope Svana joins us this year, Gods! That woman knows how to party!.

Last Journal entry for Bjorn Stonebottom Year 2E 582 Fredas, 13, Last Seed

My gods ... the carnage!. They came down from the mountains and attacked us with no warning mid revely, the swine!. Ulrik and I ... poor Ulrik ..., were in the middle of our new act when two bolts fired from cover pierced his mid-section, just as I fired, causing Ulrik to move and drive my bolt through his eye socket. I take comfort in the fact that he wasn't alive to suffer what came next....

Ulfred was next, seeing his poor brother Ulrik impaled to the tree, he stood with slack jaw horror for only the briefest of moments, but that was all it took for the vile creature to drive his sword deep into his guts, leaving his lifeless corpse slumped against the tree, while he moved on to feast upon yet another still squirming.

Blood was everywhere, and the screams, my gods the screams! I'm not sure which was worse though, the screams or the sound of bones being ground between teeth as the flesh is ripped from them. I dare not stop writing, if only to leave some record for our kin to find. I write with hope that someone finds this journal and hunts these foul creatures to the ends Tamriel for what has transpired here today, for I fear I am not long for this wo.....

(Here the journal entry ends abruptly as the author seems to have been dragged from his hiding spot mid thought. This fact made apparent by the long streak of ink trailing down the blood spattered page.)

TheValkyries

He could smell there was something of value in the distance. He lifted his head, tilting it to just the right angle, and took a big whiff. Yes, there was something there. He motioned to his brother nearby to follow, and followed the scent.

It did not seem that the small beasts were camping there still. It was a muffled scent. He figured they had set up camp for a few nights and, then, run off again. Only a stale faintness of their scent remained in the clearing above him.

He could see now, a disabled wagon, with one side having been crushed. A few feet away you could see the wheel lying on its side. Yes, definitely a deserted camp.

Approaching the make-shift housing, he could smell cheese in one of the barrels nearby. He followed the amazing scent to one over-turned barrel and placed the Fungal morsel he found into his mouth. Delicious! When suddenly he sniffed out some Rotmeth. He thought, No, no, that has not been around for awhile - But, yes, he knew it was so. He could pick out the intricacies of that flavor from far away. He followed the scent around the corner of a large tree, which held the caravans makeshift tarp roofing. He turned his head towards the scent as a sharp pain erupted from his left eye. He jerked suddenly backward, placed his hand over his throbbing eye and looked back to the spot.

That was when he realized that this spot was not abandoned. Laying before him were the remaining skeletal structure of two "War Monkeys". Their small frames had been pierced repeatedly by a recognizable weapon - the throwing sticks. It was one of these throwing sticks that had taken the life of this Mer, and then poked Naargh into his eye. He could still smell the Rotmeth. It was coming from the nasty little remains of the tiny demons of destruction. Was it worth it? Would he find later that reaching into this pile of bones was a fair bargain for a taste of the Rot. Or were these little beasts just so disgusting even the Rot wasn't worth it...

It didn't take long to decide. He held his nose, looked away from the scattered Mer bits and grabbed at what seemed to be a large vial. Yes! He found it. He thanked the stupid human remains with a nod of his thick Orc Skull, drank up the Rotmeth, and looked for his brother. Good thing for Naargh that his brother had run off - he was often scared of the War Mer of the land. Whether it be their stabbing little arms or there dried and dusty remains. He ran off towards Orddll, happy he didn't have to share the Rotmeth.

Seth_Black

Soldiers took captives to play a game with them.
One wasn't interested so they gave him a sword to hold on to.
Shortly they found out, that their aiming skills will need a lot of practice ...and more prisoners


War... war never changes...

Negwereth

Sometimes summer sun can heat a mind of you. That was a day when sun melted everything into pure gold halo, leaving nothing and nobody in one peace, separating bodies and thoughts into independent parts.

Horizon was covered with trembling haze and was looks like a thousand khajits dancing on sencha tigers trying to grab sky fabric down to ground.

Slowly as mammoth tear flowing down the fur three riders with a cart harnessed with a pale horse appeared from this haze. That was a fifth day of their journey from Marbruk to Falinesti, since the Big Marbruk Fair ends.

They can use a wayshrine, of course, but current prices for travelling with it comes too high because of increased amount of beneficiaries from Mage and Fighters Guilds, and spending money for it could drastically reduce the proceeds from the fair.
Faldan, the young Bosmer, opened his eyes with effort and said “I swear if we wouldn`t stop for encampment right now and right here I would fell asleep right on the horse in the next few minutes!”

His companions, two old Altmers from Auridon, Anarenen Anaedorin and Calindil Anaedorin, sons of ancient ruined family, look at him and stop their horses. “I agree with you” said Anarenen to Faldan, “This sun drains the life from me with every minute on the road. Let make the camp, I see good place under that rock, near big tree.”

Sun slowly goes down in its everlasting journey through firmanent leaving red-hot lands of Valenwood. Travelers woke up from short but necessary sleeping and started to prepare their artless dinner – soup with some vegetables and small amount of dry meat.

Calindil decided to entertain himself a bit and remember his youth when he likes to make pretties laughing and started to juggle with potatoes while Anarenen boiled a water. Faldan was still sleeping.

Suddenly one of the potatoes was nailed to the tree by short arrow. Calindil look in fright into twilight but sees nothing. In next moment two arrows hit him in the head and leg simultaneously and life left him at the same moment as his occiput touched bark of the tree he stand near. Next two arrows hit the dead body.

Anarenen runs with screaming but was knocked down with mighty bash. He crawled backward pulling feet while his back pressed against same tree where his brother was hanging nailed by arrows.

Dark silhouette appeared from the dusk with an iron, poor-quality sword in his hand and silently stab Anarenen in his belly. Altmer look at him and tried to say something but killer turn sword in wound and his victim drowned with his own blood.

Meanwhile Faldan, wakened with Anarenen scream, tried to grab his bow but got a powerful hit in his head and lost consciousness falling right on his sleepbag.

Camp was ransacked in a few minutes. When attackers went away, theirs head stops for a moment, looks backward and said:

“Now this is the ogres turn.”

Terminus1

Constable Erin strode through the camp/murder scene with an attitude of defiance and ownership. Quickly gathering in all information that she could, she glanced back at Levon and pointed as she began to speak.

“Levon, make sure that you get what is still useful. There is no reason to let these things go to waste.” She walked close to the tree and plucked at the end of one of the arrow shafts, its vibration making a solid humming sound not entirely unpleasing.

“Doing that will cause a few things you would not like” a new voice proclaimed.

Erin spun around quickly with her hand on her sword but didn’t draw. The stranger was not armed nor was the meek looking Argonian next to him. Being an Elf, it took seconds to correctly determine that these two were alone and posed no danger.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” he continued. “My name is Churlox and this is my companion, Whats-on-my-head. We have in our possession a Writ of Excavation from the Queen herself, giving us full access and rights to this scene. As you can see here it orders you to provide full support. As such, I would kindly ask that you have your assistant put those things down and step out of this area. Have him shoo off those ogres, if you would.” The man continued talking as he handed the decree to Erin, who didn’t bother to read anything but the signature, which was indeed the Queen’s.

Churlox walked gently through the area examining things as he moved. Whats-on-my-head moved more directly towards the bodies. As the Argonian closely examined the bodies, Churlox scrutinized every item in the area, whether it was placed there by man, Mer, beast, or the Divines themselves. His particular interest was the arrows used to pin victim 1 to the tree. He looked at them for only a moment or two and then quickly produced small axe. Removing and destroying the arrows in a flash, the body fell to the ground with a rattle. He glanced at Whats-on-my-head who looked back and only nodded.

“Alright Constable, that’s all we need here. Have your man take what he will and have these bodies properly buried. The ogres will most likely take care of the rest.”

“That’s it? That’s all you do?” Erin thought that maybe these two needed more training.

“All we do? We know exactly what happened here. These bodies are very old. They have been dead for years in fact. There is no sign of necromantic interference - the Queen’s main concern, and yet the scene itself is very fresh. This entire scene has been staged. You see Constable, this is the fourth such scene in recent months. Someone is playing a game with us. In fact, they are probably watching us right now.”

Rebershekk

“We’ll set up camp here, stay for a few days and then move on.”
He dropped a pack with a heavy sigh, “Remind me why we’re doing this?”
She took a deep breath, arms spread wide “I love the smell of Valenwood, don’t you?”
“Yeah, lovely.” He sighed again, pulling another pack from the horse and began erecting the tents.
“We’re doing this for the adventure, for the discoveries! Think how famous we’ll be should we come across something of note.”
“Aha,” he muttered, ramming a post into the ground and looked around. This place made him uneasy, admittedly he didn’t think much of Valenwood but he had a bad feeling about stopping here even if he didn’t know why. He had almost begged her not to stop here but alas, she was as stubborn as a guar. Here she wanted to stop and so here they had. He picked up the other post, walked a bit away then rammed that into the ground too but struck something hard.
A large, old root. He could most likely cut through it though. As he so did he discovered a few herbs, if they could catch a deer or rabbit that would go nicely with them. Perhaps it wouldn't be so awful.

As the sun set they sat around the fire happy and content. At least so she assumed, this place was rich in all senses from the fauna, flora and insects to the ruins she had spied nearby.
Her companion on the other hand felt differently.
There were shadows just behind the tree line, lurking at the very edge of sight. They watched. They waited. He was certain of it. They had descended not long after they had set up camp and simply observed. He had mentioned it to her, but she had dismissed it.
“Oh come now,” she had laughed, “I know you hate this place but there is no need to make up stories.” Then she'd smiled at him like he was a child.
She yawned, pulling his attention from the dark. “I think I shall go to bed”. Crossing with her to their beds he looked back and for a moment, he relaxed for he could no longer see the shadows, but then where were they?

Chaos descended.

The horse panicked, bolting past into the night. There was a thud. She screamed. He looked at her and she stared at him with pure terror on her perfect face. She was pinned to the tree by...an arrow? Arrows!
He tried to reach her but something stopped him. A shadow, then a blade. It grinned as they moved in.

The ogres followed the Bosmer's trail. They stayed a week behind, best not to get in their field of view. When they reached the camp the bones where stripped clean, thus was the Bosmer way. The ogres would stay here for a few days, until some more poor souls broke the Bosmer’s precious Green Pact, then they would all move on.

EllaRielle

"Well, I suppose I should be grateful. At least I didn't take an arrow to the knee."

"Wait a second, where's my sweet roll?..."

Volsers

- Sweet mother, sweet mother send you child unto me, whispered the dunmer into the dark and very cold night.
- For the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear, the dunmer continued as she repeatedly stabbed the effigy of the persons that had destroyed her family's lives. Suddenly the dunmer heard a silence breath from the dark.
- You have called for us and we shall fulfill your wish, said the silence voice.
- Faradill and Faldur! screamed the dunmer and told the voice where they were headed.
- We shall return to you when the deed is done, whispered the voice and disappeared into the dark.

- Faradill! how much longer do we have to walk? Falldur asked.
- We are halfway there i believe. answered Faradill.
- Halfway there? We have walked for five days now, I must rest and soon we will run out of gold, said Falldur and sounded really worried.
- Don`t worry brother, we have enough gold for our travels and I can ensure you that we will find a nice resting place soon, Faradill said.
- Look a huntercamp! We can ask them if we can sleep there. said Falldur.
- What did i just say? said Faradill and sounded really happy.

When the brothers got to the huntercamp Faradill was the first one to say something:
- Can we sleep here during the night?
- Of course! a hunter said with an almost too enthusiastic voice.
- Sit down. said another hunter.
When falldur sat down beside a tree a hunter gave him something to drink.
Falldur felt the sweet taste of wine in his mouth.
- I`m so tired I feel like I can rest forever! he said.
- Soon you will but let's play a game firts, said a hunter and picked up his bow.
- Whats your name, faradill huh, come stand next to the tree and put this apple on your head, the hunter continued.
- I'm not too sure about this... said faradill while the hunter brought him to the tree.
- Are you kidding me? We are the best archers in tamriel, throw a potato! the hunter fired an arrow as fast as the wind so both the arrow and the potato got stuck in the tree.
- Alright, I'm up for it i guess. said Faradill a little scared.

Falldur had a feeling his brother shouldn't do this, but he was too tired to do anything. He managed to at least turn his head, and saw his brother's scared face, but it was for the last time. An arrow hit Faradill right in the face followed by two others that hit his stomach.
- No! was the only thing Falldur could scream as he felt the tears coming. Suddenly he felt an unbearable pain in his stomach and the world got blurry. Falldur saw a shadow walk towards him.
- But seriously, we are the best archers. a voice whispered, and the shadow moved closer.

"Hail Sithis" was the last thing he heard before the world finally went black..