The Firesong DLC and Update 36 base game patch are now available to test on the PTS! You can read the latest patch notes here: https://forums.elderscrollsonline.com/en/categories/pts

Who are You?

Azzuria
Azzuria
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It was unusually cold in the Ashlands, but she didn't mind. She preferred the cold, having grown up in the snow and wind of Skyrim. The wind, so often sweeping down from the fire-topped mountains, had shifted, bringing in a blessedly fresh zephyr from her home in the North.

Her armor rattled melodically with every step, the shield on her back and sword at her hip a comforting presence, all the more needed considering the alien surroundings.

She recalled her mother's words. ' Be as good a guest as you'd want to have in your home, love '. Her mother, not by blood but by choice, was a strong Northerner. The kind of Nord that everyone thought was a stereotype. Hard working, hard drinking, loudly-swearing, no non-sense but with a course and cutting sense of humor. And that laugh... a laugh that crinkled the corners of her eyes, lit up her leathery face and soften her otherwise stern countenance. A laugh more infectious than Hircine's own bite.

Helga Snow-Borne had found the youngling in the snow not far from her home near Whiterun, crying, shivering and nearly dead. Being barren, Helga's young love left her before they were to be married, left her alone and childless. She took to the mewling infant like an Argonian to muck. She brought the babe into her home, a simple, rustic farmhouse in the Nordic style, all rough-hewn timber and dark comfort, dominated by a riverstone fireplace that turned the house into an oasis of warmth in the dead of a Skyrim winter.

In the house and on that farm, the youngling had grown up quickly. Too quickly for Helga. Knowing her daughter would be some be affected by the wanderlust that often took hold of her race, the Nord woman cherished every moment the two had together.

The girl's first drink of mead, to which she quickly developed a taste that might later cause her no end of grief. Bringing in the harvest of cabbages, hunting for herbs in the nearby foothills, trapping game, learning to shoot a bow and handle a weapon. The young girl took to weapon-play quickly and hunting even faster. Before long the two of them had more meat than they needed and enough pelts and leather to sell for extra gold. The extra gold didn't change how they lived, and that didn't bother the nearly grown girl.

As Helga feared, her little love seemed to grow more restless. Hunting trips were longer, nights in the tavern more often ended in fights. Not unusual for a Skyrim tavern, but Noemi was not like other Nords. The locals never fully embraced Helga's daughter and it had never really bothered the two of them. They had each other and that was enough.

Or it had been.

The day finally came when Helga knew her daughter, the little bundle of love she had found and that had made her lonely life so full, could no longer stay. It broke the old Nordic woman's heart, but also filled the cracks with pride. Her Noemi was strong, proud and fierce. She would make a fine addition to the Pact. The recruiter was hesitant at first, given who, and what, Noemi was. But a dozen fights later the young woman was the only recruit who wasn't looking like 25 miles of bad road on a rainy Morndas.

On the day they all left for Dunmer lands to join the Pact, Helga was there to see her off. The Nord woman held a bundle in her arms and she beamed with pride, even as a tear of grief seeped out from creases around her eyes, made all the deeper for the broad grin. Holding it out toward her daughter in upturned hands, the young woman deftly parted the homespun cloth to see the fine hilt of a sword resting in a delicately tooled leather sheath. Picking it up, she drew the weapon, judging the heft, swinging it to test the weight and balance. Perfect. It was simply perfect. It fit her hand, it rested there as if it were made to do so.

Noemi sheathed the sword and took her mother up in powerful arms. The women wept and held one another like it would be the last time. As they parted, the young woman gently wiped away a tear from her mother's face. ' Thank you, mother ', she whispered, barely able to get even that much out from behind the lump in her throat. The Nord woman cleared her throat, straightened her shoulder and to all the world once again became the stern, taciturn Northerner that everyone knew. But to Noemi's eyes she was still crying, the young woman could read both the pride and the grief in her mother's countenance.

Strapping the sword to her side, settling the shield to her back, she waved goodbye to the woman who had loved her in spite of everything, and joined her fellow soldier on the wagon for the long ride to the Dunmer city that was the capital of the newly formed Pact.

......

The young Khajiit woman walked into the inn, took a seat far from the fire. Peeling off her helm and letting it fall to the table, she leaned her shield against the wall and her sword, a gift from the woman who had found her and raised her as her own, rested on her lap.

The Dunmer waiter came by and eyed the armor-clad cat with a touch of suspicion.

'Mead', she stated flatly with a thick Nordic accent. The waiter nearly tripped. People who had been eyeballing her slyly did double-takes and jaws all over hung open in confusion, disbelief and, in some cases, amusement.

The mug of honeybrew found its way to the table and the cat paid and added a healthy tip. ' No innkeeper will turn away a well tipping customer, little love ', her mother had told her. A wise woman, Helga Snow-Borne.

A few more Nords, fresh recruits like Noemi, came clattering in and saw their compatriot sitting in the corner. 'SNOW-PAW!" they shouted, knowing damned well her name was Snow-Borne, like her mother. It didn't bother her. Much. These were some of the ones she'd whipped to earn her place in the Pact. It only raised her hackles a touch and her fellows knew to back off when her tail started to bristle and twitch.

Noemi Snow-Paw. It had a nice ring to it. Her mother would laugh and that was good enough. (less)
Brunhilda Icehammer - Nord Dragonknight, 'Smith & Enchantress 'What is 'ranged? I need to hit something!!'
Laehl Direthorn - Bosmer Nightblade, Purveyor of fine Clothes, Bows and Staves
Reeza gra-Zuni - Orc Templar 'War Shaman' and Apothecary
Noemi Snowpaw - Kajiit Dragon Knight - I laugh... or I'd have to kill you.
Kitera Dreamon - Breton of The Dominion: Because those Daggers don't appreciate a great Mage.
Lysara Shadowcroft - Dunmer Bloodmage: This will only hurt a lot.
  • Azzuria
    Azzuria
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    Go ahead and post your stories here.
    Brunhilda Icehammer - Nord Dragonknight, 'Smith & Enchantress 'What is 'ranged? I need to hit something!!'
    Laehl Direthorn - Bosmer Nightblade, Purveyor of fine Clothes, Bows and Staves
    Reeza gra-Zuni - Orc Templar 'War Shaman' and Apothecary
    Noemi Snowpaw - Kajiit Dragon Knight - I laugh... or I'd have to kill you.
    Kitera Dreamon - Breton of The Dominion: Because those Daggers don't appreciate a great Mage.
    Lysara Shadowcroft - Dunmer Bloodmage: This will only hurt a lot.
  • CavalryPK
    CavalryPK
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    @Azzuria,

    You need to stop playing the game and finish this story/book. I don't think I read anything this awesome since Infernal City. Much love.
    THE CAVELRY HAS ARRIVED! Cav is a professional magblade, (in his not so professional opinion). He is immortal and is fighting for the Pact since 2E 572, amidst the turmoil of the Second Akaviri Invasion. He protects the provinces of Skyrim, Morrowind and Black Marsh.

    Check out his PVP YouTube channel !

    https://youtube.com/TheCavalryPK
  • Azzuria
    Azzuria
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    I never intended this to be anything more than a one-shot origin story. But there is always more to write if there's a demand for it.
    Brunhilda Icehammer - Nord Dragonknight, 'Smith & Enchantress 'What is 'ranged? I need to hit something!!'
    Laehl Direthorn - Bosmer Nightblade, Purveyor of fine Clothes, Bows and Staves
    Reeza gra-Zuni - Orc Templar 'War Shaman' and Apothecary
    Noemi Snowpaw - Kajiit Dragon Knight - I laugh... or I'd have to kill you.
    Kitera Dreamon - Breton of The Dominion: Because those Daggers don't appreciate a great Mage.
    Lysara Shadowcroft - Dunmer Bloodmage: This will only hurt a lot.
  • CavalryPK
    CavalryPK
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    Can we get some hype on this post please? Lets Motivate our friend @Azzuria to write more !
    THE CAVELRY HAS ARRIVED! Cav is a professional magblade, (in his not so professional opinion). He is immortal and is fighting for the Pact since 2E 572, amidst the turmoil of the Second Akaviri Invasion. He protects the provinces of Skyrim, Morrowind and Black Marsh.

    Check out his PVP YouTube channel !

    https://youtube.com/TheCavalryPK
  • CavalryPK
    CavalryPK
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    very nicely written! I already am drawn in to the story and definitely looking forward to see what happens when she goes to the barracks.

    I wish you could write out the actual curse words. hehe.
    THE CAVELRY HAS ARRIVED! Cav is a professional magblade, (in his not so professional opinion). He is immortal and is fighting for the Pact since 2E 572, amidst the turmoil of the Second Akaviri Invasion. He protects the provinces of Skyrim, Morrowind and Black Marsh.

    Check out his PVP YouTube channel !

    https://youtube.com/TheCavalryPK
  • Avran_Sylt
    Avran_Sylt
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    This, is interesting.
  • Azzuria
    Azzuria
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    CavalryPK wrote: »
    very nicely written! I already am drawn in to the story and definitely looking forward to see what happens when she goes to the barracks.

    I wish you could write out the actual curse words. hehe.

    Your imagination is better than anything I could write.
    Brunhilda Icehammer - Nord Dragonknight, 'Smith & Enchantress 'What is 'ranged? I need to hit something!!'
    Laehl Direthorn - Bosmer Nightblade, Purveyor of fine Clothes, Bows and Staves
    Reeza gra-Zuni - Orc Templar 'War Shaman' and Apothecary
    Noemi Snowpaw - Kajiit Dragon Knight - I laugh... or I'd have to kill you.
    Kitera Dreamon - Breton of The Dominion: Because those Daggers don't appreciate a great Mage.
    Lysara Shadowcroft - Dunmer Bloodmage: This will only hurt a lot.
  • Avran_Sylt
    Avran_Sylt
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    Azzuria wrote: »
    CavalryPK wrote: »
    very nicely written! I already am drawn in to the story and definitely looking forward to see what happens when she goes to the barracks.

    I wish you could write out the actual curse words. hehe.

    Your imagination is better than anything I could write.

    But artistic works fuel the imagination. Your story sets the stage for our minds to wander. Edit: And your words guide us on said stage
    Edited by Avran_Sylt on July 20, 2017 9:49PM
  • CavalryPK
    CavalryPK
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    Azzuria wrote: »
    CavalryPK wrote: »
    very nicely written! I already am drawn in to the story and definitely looking forward to see what happens when she goes to the barracks.

    I wish you could write out the actual curse words. hehe.

    Your imagination is better than anything I could write.

    Your imagination writing is better than anything I could write imagine. - there I fixed it. you are welocme
    THE CAVELRY HAS ARRIVED! Cav is a professional magblade, (in his not so professional opinion). He is immortal and is fighting for the Pact since 2E 572, amidst the turmoil of the Second Akaviri Invasion. He protects the provinces of Skyrim, Morrowind and Black Marsh.

    Check out his PVP YouTube channel !

    https://youtube.com/TheCavalryPK
  • CavalryPK
    CavalryPK
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    Avran_Sylt wrote: »
    Azzuria wrote: »
    CavalryPK wrote: »
    very nicely written! I already am drawn in to the story and definitely looking forward to see what happens when she goes to the barracks.

    I wish you could write out the actual curse words. hehe.

    Your imagination is better than anything I could write.

    But artistic works fuel the imagination. Your story sets the stage for our minds to wander.

    Yeh what he said.
    THE CAVELRY HAS ARRIVED! Cav is a professional magblade, (in his not so professional opinion). He is immortal and is fighting for the Pact since 2E 572, amidst the turmoil of the Second Akaviri Invasion. He protects the provinces of Skyrim, Morrowind and Black Marsh.

    Check out his PVP YouTube channel !

    https://youtube.com/TheCavalryPK
  • CavalryPK
    CavalryPK
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    Bump!!!!
    THE CAVELRY HAS ARRIVED! Cav is a professional magblade, (in his not so professional opinion). He is immortal and is fighting for the Pact since 2E 572, amidst the turmoil of the Second Akaviri Invasion. He protects the provinces of Skyrim, Morrowind and Black Marsh.

    Check out his PVP YouTube channel !

    https://youtube.com/TheCavalryPK
  • wyneww
    wyneww
    Soul Shriven
    Your story is beautiful, dear Azzuria. You'd keep posting, wouldn't ya?

    We are children of the Twilight. Beings who are to be guided from the darkness into the light. And from the light into darkness.

    CP 254 - PC/NA

    Raj Khab - Forgotten lad from a forgotten land, a redguard swordmaster whose past, buried in sand, is relentlessly full of terror and sorrow.

    Lilivah R'en - Prettiest worshipper of The Dread Father, Sithis. A vampire feminine Dark Elf who master the art of dark magicka. An able assassin lives in shadows and dies in light.

    @wyneww
  • cjhhickman39
    cjhhickman39
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    Excellent story please keep your tail growing
  • CavalryPK
    CavalryPK
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    Yess! More please! Dont wanna comment on ehat happaned to bot spoil for anyone!
    THE CAVELRY HAS ARRIVED! Cav is a professional magblade, (in his not so professional opinion). He is immortal and is fighting for the Pact since 2E 572, amidst the turmoil of the Second Akaviri Invasion. He protects the provinces of Skyrim, Morrowind and Black Marsh.

    Check out his PVP YouTube channel !

    https://youtube.com/TheCavalryPK
  • Azzuria
    Azzuria
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    Noemi awoke before dawn, as was her habit. Growing up on a farm, work started early, ended late and continued until everything was done.

    She threw back the thin blanket and stretched, claws in toes and fingers extending as she did. It was a long, languid, body-arching stretch and she imagined that the others in camp envied her in that moment. It was a very, very good stretch.

    She swung her feet out of bed and sat up, giving her head a moment to clear up from the bit of fog still in her mind from that last mug of mead. She stood and stretched again. Donning her armor, she buckled and fastened it tight then strapped on her sword and took up her shield. She tossed the blanket back over the bed and left.

    She went down stairs and into the common room where the previous evening's fire had been stoked back to life, with a kettle and the same iron pot hanging over the flames. The table that held the mead barrels was now stacked with empty mugs, bowls and spoons and tins of coffee and teas. She took up a mug, threw in some tea leaves, an empty bowl and a spoon and moved back toward the hearth. The Argonian tending the flames, she couldn't remember her name, poured water into the mug and spooned some stewed oats into the bowl. Moving to her table, she sat and ate.

    She was long done with breakfast and sipping the now cooled tea when people began to filter down to the common room. The room's quiet comfort slowly built to a busy buzz as the sounds of eating and conversation built to a crescendo.

    Just a short time after sunrise the front door opened and broad Nordic woman strode in. The morning sun glinted off her armor and the sharp edge of the axe that sat at her back. She cut an imposing figure. She was also there to put the new recruits through their paces.

    She was a thick woman. Broad of hips and shoulders. Shorter than average, but it seemed what she lacked in height she made up for in girth. She was not fat, but big. The kind of big you get from working sun up to sun down, every day. Working muscles. Noemi imagined surviving a shield-bash from her would be worth of poem and song.

    'Round up, you lot! ' she bellowed. It seemed a bellow, though the Nord woman seemed for all the world to no more than chatting. At volume. Chair scraped the wooden floors and the sound of weapons being hitched up sounded across the room and they all began to file out in no particular order. Some good natured shoving among the Nords, haughty sniffs from the Dunmer and Argonians weaving around so as to keep the Dark Elves at arms length.

    They all filed down the stairs and into a loos half circle surrounding the beefy Nord woman, who stood amidst the crowd with a look of utter and complete disgust.

    'Shor's bones... why me?' she asked the heavens with a sigh. ' What a lot. What a utter load of dung. I swear ... ' she muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear, and continued with colorful description of just how cursed she was to be saddled with such a collection of rabble, lay-abouts and simpletons. Some took offense, some looked around sure she not speaking about them and Noemi... she just waited for it to begin.

    ' I'm here to learn ya ta fight' she finally stated. ' We're gonna see whatcher good at and then split ya about to train ya up. ' She pointed to a rack filled with serviceable weapons, from daggers to swords and mauls. Noemi picked a sword and dagger, other Nords gravitated to larger, two-handed weapons.

    'Pair up! ' the stout woman yelled, and they all did. Slowly, in a haphazard fashion. Noemi stood alone among pairs of her fellows.

    A huge mitt landed on her shoulder, eliciting an 'oof' from the woman. It was Korsten, and the 2-handed axe he held didn't look big enough for two of his. He smiled his ugly, lopsided smile. Noemi nodded and her mouth twitched into a quick, small smile.

    They faced off, a few steps apart. Around them, others paired off wielding their preferred weapons. Korsten's axe spun around in a loose grip. The smile no long on his face, he took on the bearing of someone who meant to injure someone.

    'FIGHT!' the Nord woman yelled.

    All at once everyone began battle as was their custom. Nord bellowed, trying to induce a moment of fear. Dunmer took battle poses, graceful and lethal. Argonians slunk down, coiling their lithe bodies, ready to strike. Noemi and Korsten both let forth loud, aggressive shouts and charged at one another.

    Korsten's axe drew up and arced over in a powerful downward swing. Noemi dodged quickly, spun and drove the fist holding the dagger into Korsten's belly. She moved away as Korsten huffed, breathless.

    She returned to a ready stance. Left hand up, dagger blade facing out. In her right, she spun the sword in quick circles, eyes on Korsten's feet.

    Korsten spun and the axe followed around with a whistle. Noemi rolled forward, under the blade and came up close to Korsten and her sword hand struck his belly again before rolling away. Korsten doubled over and gasped again. Her punch had landed true. Standing again she faced him.

    Around them the sparring had wound down. Not all fights won, but all stopped to watch. No one had wanted to fight Korsten. While a good enough cook and a gentle soul, in a scrap he was terrifying. He swung an axe like a woodcutter bent on denuding the world and angry that the task was keeping him from his cups.

    At the ready, Noemi danced lightly from foot to foot, both still sore from the day before but feeling better for the poultice, bandages and hasty adjustments to her boots done the day before.

    Korsten stood straight again, swung the axe around in his hand, roared and charged.

    Noemi stood her ground, digging in her feet. As Korsten's powerful side swing approached her, she deflected the weapon up and over her head, setting the charging Nord off balance. He staggered past her as she stepped aside to let him.

    Trying to catch his feet, Korsten staggered and stumbled and eventually fell face first onto the ground. The assembled crowd burst out in laughter. The enormous Nord rolled over to face the Khajit. His ugly face was beaming a wide grin. ' I'll be dipped in dung and left for dead... you're fast!' he exclaimed.

    Noemi dropped her guard, sheathing the sword and, flipping the dagger around to snatch the blade, threw it to stick up the hilt in the ground at her feet.

    She walked up to Korsten and offered him a hand. His meaty mitt engulf her hand and she gave him a hefty tug. He tugged harder. She flew over his head and landed on her back, stunned and breathless. Korsten guffawed as he lay back, his head not far from hers. The crowd cheered. Noemi, when her breath finally returned, chuckled as well. 'Well played, Korsten. See if I help you again! '.

    The big Nord clambered to his feet and offered Noemi a hand up. She eyed it suspiciously for a moment, then took it. He gave a might pull and it felt like Korsten was trying to rip the arm out of the socket, but she was up on her feet again.

    They both looked around at the audience for their performance. Noemi nodded to them slightly. Korsten put his meaty paws on his wide hips and laughed infectiously.

    ' What're you lookin' at?' bellowed the female Nord who had ordered the bout. ' Get busy! ' The crowd broke up and went back to sparring in pairs. Noemi rested an arm on Korsten's broad shoulder a moment. Just beyond the sparring recruits stood Ingvar and his lackies, sneering.

    Noemi plucked the dagger from the ground, drew her sword and she and Korsten practiced parrying and she showed him how she had dodged his strong but slow attacks.

    Ingvar walked away but Noemi had a feeling he would be back again. Some people never learn.


    Brunhilda Icehammer - Nord Dragonknight, 'Smith & Enchantress 'What is 'ranged? I need to hit something!!'
    Laehl Direthorn - Bosmer Nightblade, Purveyor of fine Clothes, Bows and Staves
    Reeza gra-Zuni - Orc Templar 'War Shaman' and Apothecary
    Noemi Snowpaw - Kajiit Dragon Knight - I laugh... or I'd have to kill you.
    Kitera Dreamon - Breton of The Dominion: Because those Daggers don't appreciate a great Mage.
    Lysara Shadowcroft - Dunmer Bloodmage: This will only hurt a lot.
  • CavalryPK
    CavalryPK
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    !!! awsome. gona read it a little later !
    THE CAVELRY HAS ARRIVED! Cav is a professional magblade, (in his not so professional opinion). He is immortal and is fighting for the Pact since 2E 572, amidst the turmoil of the Second Akaviri Invasion. He protects the provinces of Skyrim, Morrowind and Black Marsh.

    Check out his PVP YouTube channel !

    https://youtube.com/TheCavalryPK
  • TheArch
    TheArch
    Soul Shriven
    Awesome story bud, can't wait for the next installment when and if you feel so inclined.
  • Azzuria
    Azzuria
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    Not a 'bud', more a 'doll', but I'm happy you're enjoying it.

    Right now I'm trying to do character sketches and plot out where to take it.
    Edited by Azzuria on August 4, 2017 9:22PM
    Brunhilda Icehammer - Nord Dragonknight, 'Smith & Enchantress 'What is 'ranged? I need to hit something!!'
    Laehl Direthorn - Bosmer Nightblade, Purveyor of fine Clothes, Bows and Staves
    Reeza gra-Zuni - Orc Templar 'War Shaman' and Apothecary
    Noemi Snowpaw - Kajiit Dragon Knight - I laugh... or I'd have to kill you.
    Kitera Dreamon - Breton of The Dominion: Because those Daggers don't appreciate a great Mage.
    Lysara Shadowcroft - Dunmer Bloodmage: This will only hurt a lot.
  • cjhhickman39
    cjhhickman39
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    Enjoying your work a lot, have you ever read any of Jim Butcher's fury series your style reminds me of his writing
  • Azzuria
    Azzuria
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    Enjoying your work a lot, have you ever read any of Jim Butcher's fury series your style reminds me of his writing

    I loved the Furies series.
    Brunhilda Icehammer - Nord Dragonknight, 'Smith & Enchantress 'What is 'ranged? I need to hit something!!'
    Laehl Direthorn - Bosmer Nightblade, Purveyor of fine Clothes, Bows and Staves
    Reeza gra-Zuni - Orc Templar 'War Shaman' and Apothecary
    Noemi Snowpaw - Kajiit Dragon Knight - I laugh... or I'd have to kill you.
    Kitera Dreamon - Breton of The Dominion: Because those Daggers don't appreciate a great Mage.
    Lysara Shadowcroft - Dunmer Bloodmage: This will only hurt a lot.
  • CrisXD
    CrisXD
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    @Azzuria I love this! Very creative. You should put the story on Wattpad.
    PS4 EU
    Tamriel Dance Masters:
    AD - Altmer MagSorc, Altmer Magplar, Redguard StamBlade(PVP)
    EP - Nord Tank, Altmer MagSorc(PVP), Dunmer MagBlade(PVP)
    DC - Redguard StamWarden, Breton MagDK

    GM - The Taverneers PS4 EU

    Feeling Fresh Traders PS4 EU
  • SkillzMFG
    SkillzMFG
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    I wanted to write my character's story but it would pale in comparison to your writings so I kinda gave up on it....maybe when I get more inspiration
  • Avran_Sylt
    Avran_Sylt
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    SkillzMFG wrote: »
    I wanted to write my character's story but it would pale in comparison to your writings so I kinda gave up on it....maybe when I get more inspiration

    Everyone starts somewhere. If you feel that you don't have enough to work with currently, ignore that feeling, see what you can scrap together as is. Anything of quality will take time and several attempts till you're left satisfied (I edited this no less than six times prior to posting). So the best time to start is now (Though only if it interests you).
    Edited by Avran_Sylt on August 13, 2017 10:16PM
  • cjhhickman39
    cjhhickman39
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    SkillzMFG please tell your story, no two writers are the same and we are all our own harshest critics.
  • Azzuria
    Azzuria
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    Avran_Sylt wrote: »
    SkillzMFG wrote: »
    I wanted to write my character's story but it would pale in comparison to your writings so I kinda gave up on it....maybe when I get more inspiration

    Everyone starts somewhere. If you feel that you don't have enough to work with currently, ignore that feeling, see what you can scrap together as is. Anything of quality will take time and several attempts till you're left satisfied (I edited this no less than six times prior to posting). So the best time to start is now (Though only if it interests you).

    I usually only edit for grammar before posting. Most of this is stream-of-consciousness. That's why it takes so long between installments: I have to think about what happens next, where it's going and how it fits... and then imagine how it happens. The rest just comes to me while typing.
    Brunhilda Icehammer - Nord Dragonknight, 'Smith & Enchantress 'What is 'ranged? I need to hit something!!'
    Laehl Direthorn - Bosmer Nightblade, Purveyor of fine Clothes, Bows and Staves
    Reeza gra-Zuni - Orc Templar 'War Shaman' and Apothecary
    Noemi Snowpaw - Kajiit Dragon Knight - I laugh... or I'd have to kill you.
    Kitera Dreamon - Breton of The Dominion: Because those Daggers don't appreciate a great Mage.
    Lysara Shadowcroft - Dunmer Bloodmage: This will only hurt a lot.
  • MarzAttakz
    MarzAttakz
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    Thank You <3 Got me through the final hours of the patch download!

    "He wasn't a smart man but he was kind and gentle and wise in the way that only someone without guile can be." - a word-smith, a poet and a keen observer in one.
    Edited by MarzAttakz on August 14, 2017 9:27PM
    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
    PC EU
    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
    Qura Scura | Altmer | MagBlade
    Lhylyth | Breton | MagPlar
    Nhynyth | Khajiit | MagDK
    Ghwynyth | Dunmer | MagSorc
    Loots-All-Urns | Argonian | MagDen
    Shades-Of-Gray | Argonian | StamDK
    Or'Chastration | Orc | StamSorc
    Little Miss Famished | Orc | StamCro
    Fhane Sharog | Orc | StamDen
    Dead Moons Rising | Khajiit | StamBlade
    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
    The aim of argument, or of discussion, should not be victory, but progress.
  • Azzuria
    Azzuria
    ✭✭✭✭✭
    Ingvar leaned against the wall, his cohorts spread out to each side. They joked and shoved each other roughly, but with that teasing, good nature of comrades-in-arms. While the others were playing about, Ingvar was watching the new recruits at their training drills. He thought of them as younglings, even though most were years older. Some practiced with large weapons, some with a weapon in each hand, others with sword-and-shield. That cursed ... cat ... even in his thoughts he spat out the word ... was with the latter group.

    She moved with that same uncanny grace and power he had seen the day before during sparring matches. She wielded the shield as a weapon, both blocking and bashing the target dummy. Her sword strikes were swift, sure and powerful. Her feet, though... she seemed to be favoring them. A weakness?

    The drills ended when that lumbering cow, Hildr, sent them off to lunch with a stream of invectives and insults.

    The cat, after stowing sword and shield, bent over to fuss about with her boots. Yes, he thought... that's the spot.

    She stood up, rocked back and forth on her feet, winced a bit and then followed the crowd back to the barracks.

    Ingvar shoved his way past his pack of comrades and slowly walked away, keeping that damnable cat always in the side of his vision.

    * * *

    He was watching her again. Did that milksop ever do anything but stalk her? Had she not known better she'd imagine he was moonbrained in love with her. Likely story, that.

    Most of the Pact soldiers tolerated her. Some even liked her, once they realized she wasn't a scooma-addled thief like so many of her race. That thought stuck in her head. She may be Khajiiti by birth but she wasn't by any other standard. She didn't think like them. Didn't talk like them, with their backwards 'this one' speak and she certainly did not act like them. She stood tall, no skulking or crouching for her, no shifty eyes, no dissembling. She stood upright, looked a person straight in the face and said exactly what was on her mind. And she'd lop off the hand of anyone who thought to steal from her.

    No, she was a cat only insofar as she had fur and a tail. In all the ways that mattered, at least to her mother and she, she was Nord through and through.

    Noemi rocked back and forth, heel to toe, checking the fit of her boots. They were better and fresh poultice and wrapping were helping a great deal. Her new boots, custom made by her, mostly, should be ready the following day. She had asked one of the Argonians who shared her barracks to make some leather liners and she had happily agreed. I think more because Noemi had asked politely than out of any desire to help the cat. The lizards were an odd lot and Noemi felt a sort of kinship with them. The Nords didn't understand them and the Dunmer, nearly to a man, either despised, denigrated or dismissed them.

    Rindol the Black, she liked to think of him that way because he was a blacksmith, obviously, but also because there was usually some kind of soot mark across his face, darker than his already deep grey complexion. It was apparent he bathed regularly because the black streak changed places on a daily basis. Rindol had shown her how to build her new boots around the leather lining and the idea of being able to charge and dodge again without stabbing pain in her toes was far more exciting than it really should have been.

    Noemi followed her fellows into the barracks for lunch, bringing up the rear. Not out of any deference to the others, just to avoid being jostled. She didn't like feeling hemmed in.

    * * *

    Lunch was, of course, stew.

    Korsten had started the kettle simmering before morning drills and it smelled divine. As usual. The common room was comfortingly loud and friendly as soldiers lined up with mugs of mead or ale, half loaves of fresh bread and empty bowls, awaiting a heaping helping of the ugly Nord's latest permutation of this singular culinary creation.

    Noemi took her bowl, bread and mug to a small table away from the others, as was her habit.

    She was barely a spoonful into lunch when in swaggered Ingvar and his lackies. Did that preening twit have nothing better to do?

    You would imagine Ingvar an Elf noble the way he ponced about. He and his clot of clods made their way to the small, shadowed table where Noemi was trying, in vain in appeared, to eat in peace.

    'Cat', Ingvar spat, as he stood before her, feet spread, arms akimbo. He was wide open. He really should not do that.

    'Milksop', she replied flatly in her very think Nord accent. Chuckles bubbled up around the room, mostly from other Nords.

    Ingvar snarled at her. Noemi reached for her mug of mead but Ingvar snatched it up first and drained it dry in one gulp.

    There were insults, and then there were insults.

    Noemi growled. Well, to her it was a growl but coming out of her throat it sounded more like a cross between a Nord's belch and an angry lion. A thoroughly annoyed and truly intimidating sound that anyone with half a brain would understand meant imminent danger.

    Ingvar ignored her, slammed the empty mug back on the table and leaned over slightly towards her as if to offer challenge. Before she could move, though, Ingvar's foot moved quickly and stamped directly on top of hers. She let out a screaming yowl that silenced the already hushed room and seemed to echo.

    Ingvar was looming ever closer, his boot atop her, pressing and grinding. The pain would have been worse yesterday but it still hurt like mad and it put the otherwise annoyed Noemi into a truly foul temper.

    From out of nowhere a bright light flashed and pain erupted in her head, so profound it eclipsed that in her foot. She felt the world moving in odd ways, tilting and swirling without cause, to come suddenly to a stop when the floor smacked her on the side of the face. She rolled onto her back to see Ingvar above her, flexing his gauntled fist. It took a moment and several slow blinks for her to gather enough stray thoughts to realize he had blindsided her.

    Over top her, Ingvar and his half dozen lackies were staring down and braying like jackasses at her.

    It was then that a guttural roar from across the room suddenly got louder as it moved swiftly their direction and ended in a 'oof!' as Korsten tackled half of Ingvar's cohorts.

    Big as they were, Korsten was bigger than any two and it took everyone but Ignvar to pull, shove and push and drive the ugly, raging Nord , from atop the squirming mass where his meaty fists were landing solidly on faces and in guts.

    The three other Nords with Ignvar, the ones not subject to the pummeling of a lifetime, tossed Korsten towards the door and all six managed to get up and between him and Ingvar and still prostrate Noemi.

    'If you know what's good for you... cat... you'll leave and never come back. We don't need or want you kind here. ' He put so much hate between the words 'cat' and 'kind' you would be forgiven for thinking they were the worst curses imaginable.

    'Go home', Ingvar said and spat at Noemi. The globule just missed her face, but the insult had landed.

    He turned to leave and his friends followed him, all of them keeping between Korsten, still panting and hands opening and closing.

    The door slammed shut behind the last one.

    Korsten's entire countenance changed. He went from charging bull to childlike concern in an instant and with speed the belied his bulk, moved quickly toward where Noemi lay.

    She was flat on her back, eyes closed, and made no move to get up. She had been here before. Spat upon, dismissed, hated and it felt terrible. Before she could rely on her mother to pick her up, offers some words of wisdom and make it all feel better.

    She opened eyes to see Korsten's face looming just above hers. What a sight. ' Y'ok Nemi? ' he asked. He'd never actually called her by her name before and she just didn't have it in her at the moment to correct him.

    ' I'm fine. Wasn't the first time. Won't be the last', she said and took Korsten's offered hand. He yanked her up with a tug. She laid a hand on his shoulder and looked up at him. 'Thank you'. He smiled his ugly smile.

    She returned to her seat and started to finish her lunch.

    The Argnonian who had crafted her boot liners walked up to her and said, ' That was not right' in her slithery, raspy voice. It was a statement of the obvious but the way she intoned it left Noemi with the thought that maybe it was more.

    Around the room there were nods and the occasional colorful description of Ingvar's mother and her mating habits. Even the Dunmer seemed aghast at such uncouth behavior from a Nord. Given the low expections the Dark Elves had for their allies from the North, that said a great deal.

    The Nords were loudly talking among themselves about the cowardice of the whole affair. 7 on 1, a sucker punch... They were offended that one of their own could act so.

    Noemi just stayed in her quiet, dark corner and ate her lunch. Chewing hurt and so did her foot, but each throb only stoked her rage. She always carried a small spark of anger within her, but Ingvar had thrown coal onto it, stoked it and left it to burn. He thought to have put the fear into Noemi.

    That was his third mistake.



    Brunhilda Icehammer - Nord Dragonknight, 'Smith & Enchantress 'What is 'ranged? I need to hit something!!'
    Laehl Direthorn - Bosmer Nightblade, Purveyor of fine Clothes, Bows and Staves
    Reeza gra-Zuni - Orc Templar 'War Shaman' and Apothecary
    Noemi Snowpaw - Kajiit Dragon Knight - I laugh... or I'd have to kill you.
    Kitera Dreamon - Breton of The Dominion: Because those Daggers don't appreciate a great Mage.
    Lysara Shadowcroft - Dunmer Bloodmage: This will only hurt a lot.
  • CavalryPK
    CavalryPK
    ✭✭✭✭✭
    Azzuria wrote: »
    Ingvar leaned against the wall, his cohorts spread out to each side. They joked and shoved each other roughly, but with that teasing, good nature of comrades-in-arms. While the others were playing about, Ingvar was watching the new recruits at their training drills. He thought of them as younglings, even though most were years older. Some practiced with large weapons, some with a weapon in each hand, others with sword-and-shield. That cursed ... cat ... even in his thoughts he spat out the word ... was with the latter group.

    She moved with that same uncanny grace and power he had seen the day before during sparring matches. She wielded the shield as a weapon, both blocking and bashing the target dummy. Her sword strikes were swift, sure and powerful. Her feet, though... she seemed to be favoring them. A weakness?

    The drills ended when that lumbering cow, Hildr, sent them off to lunch with a stream of invectives and insults.

    The cat, after stowing sword and shield, bent over to fuss about with her boots. Yes, he thought... that's the spot.

    She stood up, rocked back and forth on her feet, winced a bit and then followed the crowd back to the barracks.

    Ingvar shoved his way past his pack of comrades and slowly walked away, keeping that damnable cat always in the side of his vision.

    * * *

    He was watching her again. Did that milksop ever do anything but stalk her? Had she not known better she'd imagine he was moonbrained in love with her. Likely story, that.

    Most of the Pact soldiers tolerated her. Some even liked her, once they realized she wasn't a scooma-addled thief like so many of her race. That thought stuck in her head. She may be Khajiiti by birth but she wasn't by any other standard. She didn't think like them. Didn't talk like them, with their backwards 'this one' speak and she certainly did not act like them. She stood tall, no skulking or crouching for her, no shifty eyes, no dissembling. She stood upright, looked a person straight in the face and said exactly what was on her mind. And she'd lop off the hand of anyone who thought to steal from her.

    No, she was a cat only insofar as she had fur and a tail. In all the ways that mattered, at least to her mother and she, she was Nord through and through.

    Noemi rocked back and forth, heel to toe, checking the fit of her boots. They were better and fresh poultice and wrapping were helping a great deal. Her new boots, custom made by her, mostly, should be ready the following day. She had asked one of the Argonians who shared her barracks to make some leather liners and she had happily agreed. I think more because Noemi had asked politely than out of any desire to help the cat. The lizards were an odd lot and Noemi felt a sort of kinship with them. The Nords didn't understand them and the Dunmer, nearly to a man, either despised, denigrated or dismissed them.

    Rindol the Black, she liked to think of him that way because he was a blacksmith, obviously, but also because there was usually some kind of soot mark across his face, darker than his already deep grey complexion. It was apparent he bathed regularly because the black streak changed places on a daily basis. Rindol had shown her how to build her new boots around the leather lining and the idea of being able to charge and dodge again without stabbing pain in her toes was far more exciting than it really should have been.

    Noemi followed her fellows into the barracks for lunch, bringing up the rear. Not out of any deference to the others, just to avoid being jostled. She didn't like feeling hemmed in.

    * * *

    Lunch was, of course, stew.

    Korsten had started the kettle simmering before morning drills and it smelled divine. As usual. The common room was comfortingly loud and friendly as soldiers lined up with mugs of mead or ale, half loaves of fresh bread and empty bowls, awaiting a heaping helping of the ugly Nord's latest permutation of this singular culinary creation.

    Noemi took her bowl, bread and mug to a small table away from the others, as was her habit.

    She was barely a spoonful into lunch when in swaggered Ingvar and his lackies. Did that preening twit have nothing better to do?

    You would imagine Ingvar an Elf noble the way he ponced about. He and his clot of clods made their way to the small, shadowed table where Noemi was trying, in vain in appeared, to eat in peace.

    'Cat', Ingvar spat, as he stood before her, feet spread, arms akimbo. He was wide open. He really should not do that.

    'Milksop', she replied flatly in her very think Nord accent. Chuckles bubbled up around the room, mostly from other Nords.

    Ingvar snarled at her. Noemi reached for her mug of mead but Ingvar snatched it up first and drained it dry in one gulp.

    There were insults, and then there were insults.

    Noemi growled. Well, to her it was a growl but coming out of her throat it sounded more like a cross between a Nord's belch and an angry lion. A thoroughly annoyed and truly intimidating sound that anyone with half a brain would understand meant imminent danger.

    Ingvar ignored her, slammed the empty mug back on the table and leaned over slightly towards her as if to offer challenge. Before she could move, though, Ingvar's foot moved quickly and stamped directly on top of hers. She let out a screaming yowl that silenced the already hushed room and seemed to echo.

    Ingvar was looming ever closer, his boot atop her, pressing and grinding. The pain would have been worse yesterday but it still hurt like mad and it put the otherwise annoyed Noemi into a truly foul temper.

    From out of nowhere a bright light flashed and pain erupted in her head, so profound it eclipsed that in her foot. She felt the world moving in odd ways, tilting and swirling without cause, to come suddenly to a stop when the floor smacked her on the side of the face. She rolled onto her back to see Ingvar above her, flexing his gauntled fist. It took a moment and several slow blinks for her to gather enough stray thoughts to realize he had blindsided her.

    Over top her, Ingvar and his half dozen lackies were staring down and braying like jackasses at her.

    It was then that a guttural roar from across the room suddenly got louder as it moved swiftly their direction and ended in a 'oof!' as Korsten tackled half of Ingvar's cohorts.

    Big as they were, Korsten was bigger than any two and it took everyone but Ignvar to pull, shove and push and drive the ugly, raging Nord , from atop the squirming mass where his meaty fists were landing solidly on faces and in guts.

    The three other Nords with Ignvar, the ones not subject to the pummeling of a lifetime, tossed Korsten towards the door and all six managed to get up and between him and Ingvar and still prostrate Noemi.

    'If you know what's good for you... cat... you'll leave and never come back. We don't need or want you kind here. ' He put so much hate between the words 'cat' and 'kind' you would be forgiven for thinking they were the worst curses imaginable.

    'Go home', Ingvar said and spat at Noemi. The globule just missed her face, but the insult had landed.

    He turned to leave and his friends followed him, all of them keeping between Korsten, still panting and hands opening and closing.

    The door slammed shut behind the last one.

    Korsten's entire countenance changed. He went from charging bull to childlike concern in an instant and with speed the belied his bulk, moved quickly toward where Noemi lay.

    She was flat on her back, eyes closed, and made no move to get up. She had been here before. Spat upon, dismissed, hated and it felt terrible. Before she could rely on her mother to pick her up, offers some words of wisdom and make it all feel better.

    She opened eyes to see Korsten's face looming just above hers. What a sight. ' Y'ok Nemi? ' he asked. He'd never actually called her by her name before and she just didn't have it in her at the moment to correct him.

    ' I'm fine. Wasn't the first time. Won't be the last', she said and took Korsten's offered hand. He yanked her up with a tug. She laid a hand on his shoulder and looked up at him. 'Thank you'. He smiled his ugly smile.

    She returned to her seat and started to finish her lunch.

    The Argnonian who had crafted her boot liners walked up to her and said, ' That was not right' in her slithery, raspy voice. It was a statement of the obvious but the way she intoned it left Noemi with the thought that maybe it was more.

    Around the room there were nods and the occasional colorful description of Ingvar's mother and her mating habits. Even the Dunmer seemed aghast at such uncouth behavior from a Nord. Given the low expections the Dark Elves had for their allies from the North, that said a great deal.

    The Nords were loudly talking among themselves about the cowardice of the whole affair. 7 on 1, a sucker punch... They were offended that one of their own could act so.

    Noemi just stayed in her quiet, dark corner and ate her lunch. Chewing hurt and so did her foot, but each throb only stoked her rage. She always carried a small spark of anger within her, but Ingvar had thrown coal onto it, stoked it and left it to burn. He thought to have put the fear into Noemi.

    That was his third mistake.



    been waiting for this far ages!!! thank you !

    THE CAVELRY HAS ARRIVED! Cav is a professional magblade, (in his not so professional opinion). He is immortal and is fighting for the Pact since 2E 572, amidst the turmoil of the Second Akaviri Invasion. He protects the provinces of Skyrim, Morrowind and Black Marsh.

    Check out his PVP YouTube channel !

    https://youtube.com/TheCavalryPK
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