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Tale of a dark elf by Anthony J Bartley (crimson storm on youtube)
Tale of a Dark Elf
Alchemy
A vale of ebony and stars swept over the skies quickly, time it seemed steadfast, too fast to my liking.
Just a Dunmer woman picking some snow berries for my potions and I get carried away with thoughts of what I may come up with next, if that damn Altmer doesn’t hog that alchemy station, near Irgalfa owlcloak's stall again.
I can’t wait to get back into town, or rather camp site, my schedules always full for making the curatives to poisoning by those Alit's back in Stonefalls.
I need to get back soon, no telling what creatures lurk at night.
*Snap*
Limibuna rarimcil turned slowly.
"Who's there?" she called echoing into the forest.
No response.
She readies her right hand with a fireball and one of her steel daggers in the other hand; cautiously she treads down the dirt path back into the camp site longing to get to the alchemy station.
A howl behind her sends trembling down her back.
Quickly she instinctively activates her racial defence mechanism " Ancestors Wrath ", her body a flame she turns confident and see's a white, shaggy-furred snow wolf, snarling it pounces but at that precise moment...
*ZZZZT*
A thunderbolt strikes the wolf from its left hand side.
Shocked Limibuna turns slightly to see someone in black robes.
Hoping it's not a necromancer she thanks him, as he turns and pulls down his hood she realises.
"Fulis moral...what are you doing out here!?" she is almost stuck for words as the wolf disintegrates on the side of the dirt path leaving only a small bundle of ash quickly captured by the unforgiving winds and thrown into the distance.
"I was just enjoying a midnight walk until your flames caught my eye and I had to help" He replies as if it was too obvious an answer, infuriating Limibuna.
"I had that wretched mongrel right where I wanted, you just have to interfere, don't you, and you Altmer are all the same, egotistical, wanting control over every little thing!" Limibuna shrieked remembering every time she had been judged by or had her life interrupted by others and still feeling the shock of possibly being eaten alive by a wolf in the wilderness.
Limibuna turns and strides down towards the comforting site of distant flickering light.
Finally at the alchemy station, being a regular to his stall, Limibuna steps right up and get’s on with her alchemistical discoveries.
The self made recipe she had made before hand and kept in her satchel reads:
- Mudcrab Chitin
- Vampire Dust
- Charred Skeever Hide
Done!
Taking apart the mudcrab chitin and placing it in a beaker over a small fire, half full of water she then adds the vampire dust. The colour changes from grey to turquoise before flourishing to become a deep crimson and then she gets one of her steel daggers and shreds the charred Skeever hide into very small pieces falling straight into the beaker and stirs vigorously as the heat stays on.
After six minutes of stirring to her relief it is done, she lets her hand at ease and pours the contents into a double glazed clear glass bottle. That should complete it for her next shipment to arrive in Stonefalls next week by boat.
She smiles to herself in accomplishment ignoring the fact that there will be more requests, placing the bottle gingerly into one empty divider inside her bag, next to many others.
It’s not much but it’s the best a travelling mage who’s half way to learning about potions. Sixty bottles, low on stock.
After the hard day’s work she gently walks into her tent, tired she ties the door way shut and goes to the rolled up silk sleeping bag she brought with her from Morrowind. Keeping her current and only clothes so far on which consist of wool black robes with purple stitching, white bears fur around the hood and one deliberate red patch on the robe where her right knee could touch for her own personalised style, Unfolds the sleeping bag and drifts to a sound sleep.
Silence.
Perfect she thought, didn’t want to have to tell random drunken Nords to be quiet again.
The next week in the morning, sun shining yet frost still lies on the floor freezing everything in time.
She makes her way briskly to the harbour awaiting her boat to take her all the way to Stonefalls. “Late...figures” she groans, two hours pass and only then does she see it in the distance. Bells ring as it closes in to port; she makes her way with the Khajiit traders who commonly travel and trade all over Tamriel.
A familiar black robbed figure dashes onboard with a bundle of scrolls cradled in his arms.
“Oh Fulis, didn’t realise you took your enchanting seriously” she said as she notices the symbols on a folded over backwards page.
He kneels down gets his bag and places the scrolls separately from books inside to organise it, he then stands back up and nods “ yes I must, I enchant weapons for anyone willing to pay of course, times are tough, you know” he smiles half heartedly.
She nods and turns to look out to sea as the boat moves slowly away from the harbour, and sails south directly for Stonefalls.
Weather warms as they sail between The Rift and Morrowind but winds stay strong pushing the boat fast enough for a slight breeze to flow into everyone on deck.
Sunlight illuminating the surface of the cold dark waters, dancing fish in the sea and wind in her hair she stares out onto the horizon.
“So why are you heading into Stonefalls?” Fulis asks gently.
“I am helping the people who have been poisoned by those Alit’s, I make curatives among other things...” she says not really paying attention to anything in particular, she turns and puts her elbows on the railing facing into the ship, so dose Fulis.
“And why do you prefer to ship every now and then from Bleakrock isle to the Stonefalls instead of living there?” he questions.
A sigh that means she knows he wasn’t leaving anytime soon, “I figured it would be safer than on the island away from the main bulk of the land further away from Cyrodil and all that war, might I ask, how does a high elf not get at least ridiculed out here, your Altmeri Dominion are you not?” she says just realizing how dangerous it could or could’ve been for him.
“No, I never agreed with all their pointless endeavours that we all were expected to do, and the views on anything to be honest were worse...” he stops and falls silent.
Not wanting to annoy him she steps forward to head to the bar inside the cabin like part that’s on the same level as the dock, “I’m going in for a drink, see you later...”, she waves while walking on.
Bewitchment
Limibuna awakes from her slumber to find a hazy vision of a familiar worried face.
“Wake up! No time to explain” blood splatters over her as she jolts upwards to question why he had woke her up at this time.
As she comes too she realizes the arrow pinning him to the wall, “by the eight divines! What’s happening!” she exclaims as she tears the bedding to use as a short term bandage after snapping the end of the arrow and pulling him through.
“No...Arghh! You must go on without me...” she finishes putting the bandage together and places one of his arms over her shoulder and walks slowly to take him with her to a chair and lets him drop into it.
Limibuna harnesses flames in her hand and puts one of her steel daggers to it, “this may hurt, I’m sorry...” she seals his wound on both ends.
She walks over to her bed and searches for her bag of remedies to ease his pain.
The door opens with her standing directly behind it; she can see three shadows on the floor and stands still, silent.
“And who have we here...a high elf...never had much taste for your kind altmer, and seriously? Travelling unguarded and in plain sight.” The orcish voice insults with scorn.
“I’m no criminal...I’ve never in all my days, caused such an offence to bring you here” he calmly explains.
“Supposedly neither has anyone else I’ve come across...but...such scum must exist in this world and I intend to hunt them down and put an end to it, by the honour of my ancestors...” he says as he raises his last arrow for his target.
The door slams and Limibuna flings her fire bolt that she had been charging into his back, scorching his leather armour, the hunter turns to try and shoot for her but barely misses, scratching her cheek and she throws the red hot dagger for his head and then he plummets to the ground with a dying groan of pain.
Gasping realising there are still two others, hooded and masked each with duel ebony daggers.
Fulis forces the last of his strength to use chain lightening to knock the two out cold.
Grabbing her bag, she scurries past the bodies on the floor and hands a small bottle labelled fortify and restore health.
He snatches the bottle and downs it all, quickly the wounds close and blood stops pouring out and scars over.
“It’s not a perfect brew so your scars will heal in a few days” she explains as she helps him out of the chair.
“It’s ok I can walk now...” he says patting her on the shoulder kindly, nodding she turns and makes sure she hadn’t forgotten anything.
“Ok...I don’t know what sort of trouble you’re in but it seems we need to work together here...” she says as she walks cautiously into the bar like part of the dock under the cabin above reserved for the captain of the ship, next to Fulis, fire bolt in her right hand and dagger in the left.
Arrows everywhere, blood and bodies also astray both Ebon heart pact and Daggerfall covenant , angry scorch marks on the walls, being a lot to take in Limibuna is frozen in shock, sinking to her knees she lets one tear fall to the floor before getting up sharply and firmly striding out to on deck.
A flurry of furious flames coat her and she readies her hands with fireball’s, she turns slowly and stares at a few hooded obviously assassins of some sort, screaming in anger she throws a charged fireball using both hands.
The sinister looking characters only notice it for a second before a great explosion sends few flying overboard and most were charred to be only ash replicas of their former much more lively selves.
The flames start the travelling fires across the ship of oil that another behind her was pouring and the flames climb quickly into the pot and smash it from the heat and the contents fall all over the unsuspecting Daggerfall covenant hunter.
Two arrows shot at her from on the upper deck where the steering wheel is, they simply incinerate before they touch her clothes and in response she jumps and using the shockwave from another fireball to shoot her further up and lands in front of them and changes one hand to the fury spell and casts it on both of them making them kill each other.
When she awakes from her black-out-rage, the flames diminish around her as she falls to the floor crying and turn to face the sky and screams before passing out as the sails fall, a cluster of other explosions on the lower deck and the ship begins to sink.
Mustering what strength he has which is more than he expected, most likely because of the potion he took earlier effect’s, he manages to reach the steering wheel and he makes a hard turn right wards and drags Limibuna to the steering wheel and uses one of his spare belts to tie her safely to it, awaiting impact he quickly tries to do the same for himself but it’s too late.
A moment froze for a second as he began to be flung overboard onto the dry land, the wooden deck still a flame crashing and in result breaking into a low cliff which dug into the lowest floor of the ship where some people slept, no doubt dead by now.
But.
Then time sped back up and he was hurled onto the ground and, although she was safely tied to the steering wheel she violently jolted forwards due to the crashing of the boat.
Suddenly Limibuna wakes up with a jolt, wide awake, gasping for a few moments, struggling curiously she finds herself tied to the helm somehow, slowly looking across the ship her eyes come into focus as the morning sun shines into them.
“Fulis...FULIS!?” she screams thinking the worse must have happened but she regains initiative, she forcibly activates her ancestors wraith barely but it burns the belt enough to shrug off and she falls slightly forward catching her breath and feeling her neck as she can feel the whip lash from the crashing.
It all comes flooding back, the rage, the blood the flames, explosions, its all unthinkable to her as a mainly a humanitarian person, she mustn’t lose control again, standing up, stretching to waken up her aching body the strides towards the stairs to the half destroyed deck of the ship so that she may get onto dry land once more.
Looking down at the stairs she realizes, there are no more stairs and if she dosent jump far enough its water down there for who knows how long.
One deep breath and a quick jog start, she soars and falls at the same time landing on the dock barely, nearly falling backwards but forces her weight forward and falls onto the floor, meanwhile, the part she jumped from falls down into the dark dank murky green waters, into the abyss.
Slightly disorientated, still, she gets back up sharply, slowly she walks onto land and turns to her relief to see Fulis, lying on the ground unconscious but unharmed seemingly and with no scars now, but that could mean two things, that the potion saved him or the potion wore off too soon making it seem that he is still alive.
Cascading darkness
“So...what happened next mother...” asked anxiously the little dark elf, tucked into his bed.
The next morning, brilliant sun shine squeezes in the gap in Comson’s curtains, shining in his eyes he lifts his hand blocks its beam and opens his eyes, gets out of bed, kneels to his small chest and puts on some light, loose brown leather trousers, cloth socks, again leather shoes and a dark purple woollen jumper, pulling his fairly long dark brown braided pony tail out of the back of his jumper.
He expertly find’s his stolen book of “Dark Magic” he stole two years back from Fulis’s bag, looks around and continues to read on “Rune prison” , re-reads the incantation, holding the book to his chest, looking at the ceiling, to prove to himself he knows the spell.
Hearing his parents moving things around in the shop they run on the ground floor, downstairs, he places the book under his bed under a clutter of old toys such as wooden swords and a practice dummy and so on...
He sits on the stairs watching them, placing potions on the counters and shelves or putting parchments and tomes into lockable glass show cases, a dark green robbed man walks in, a bit early he thought but he just watched the friendly faces come by as he always did before running off into town to see his friends.
This man had a strange and awe-worthy stave on his back made of black steel and has a disfigured skull on top holding a soul gem in its mouth.
Fulis came to the customer with a smile and said “What can I do for a fellow mage, huh? Enchantments maybe...”
A couple minutes pass and this stranger says nothing, hooded, Comson could not tell what was going on.
The gem began to glow and the man reached round to grab his staff, Fulis looked up at Comson with a worried expression, his mother had no idea she was happily humming a tune to herself as she made some new potion experiments in the corner.
Straight away Comson knew something was wrong and he had to protect his family, the odd man’s hand glowing an ominous blue was obviously charging some spell and Comson did not want to give this one a chance to try anything and so, he holds out his hands and cast’s his Rune prison upon the dark sorcerer.
Relieved Fulis runs to grab Comson and shouts on the shocked Limibuna to come with him as they run out into the streets of town, people screaming and running, the skies turn black and stormy, confused they look around but the barely phased Comson points out a thing glowing the same colour as the dark sorcerer’s hand, in the sky.
Passing Comson to his mother Fulis kisses her on the head telling her to run with Comson to safety and runs into the crowd of undead walking and killing as he goes.
“Why’s dad leaving?” the teary eyed Dunmer boy asks.
Limibuna could not bring it to herself to even speak and turns to run to the next village leaving only a tear that escaped her will and dropped onto the cobblestone pathway.
With a outstretched hand Comson saw the last smile from his father he will ever see as he turned to reassure his son, but then his face changed, confused perhaps ?, Limibuna stopped, something was keeping them from advancing to safety.
Comson Moral turned to see the same necromancer from back in the shop glaring coldly into his eyes, pointing his stave at Limibuna and firing something.
A flash of ghastly green and then they fell, she had been paralyzed, and hearing Fulis scream “NO! Get away from my family!”
Terrified and confused Comson is pried from his mother’s arms and dangled in mid air held by the scruff of the neck of his purple woollen jumper, barely struggling as he knew that it was a futile attempt to try and escape the grasp of death.
Deadric Imprisonment
Sitting in a dank, dark dungeon, hair grown wild and long, eyes a misty crimson with nothing but the screams from tortured and dying people for company, Comson moral stares at the floor gloomily, nothing to do but wait...
Wait...wait for what? It’s not like anyone can save him now, stuck in the realm of Cold Harbour for an eternity.
Aged approximately twenty six, Comson moral, a fairly well educated young man in magic, history, the common language and his native dark elven language seemed to hold such potential, what a waste it is that he has been imprisoned here of all places...
Mike snakus agreed all too well, what a waste indeed and so – after gaining better gear and money in which to get to – arrives at Comson’s childhood home saunters casually up the stairs as if he had lived here himself and kneels to feel through the ash and scrapes out the book, the book of dark magic...
Mike then proceeds downhill towards the still open dark anchor, for some reason the deadra do not attack him and he stops to marvel at the luminescent beauty of its energy which radiated an aura of beckoning servitude. He drops the book at his feet; it falls loudly, lying open at a random page; he places down the black soul gem filled with the soul of what once was a necromancer, now comfortably becoming used to his shady form in the soul cairn, gently, places his left hand on the soul gem peeling his gloves off as he does so to then go on to draw his blade and stabs himself in his hand then speaks in a ancient ruinic language: “decca deadra duraca...”
The blood turns dark and a most foul slimy texture takes over, then it glows with utter blackness – continuing the ritual he says: “Open the gates...I shall serve...”
A horrifying voice starts in Comson’s head “A necromancer demands your summons....hahaha...be gone with you...” the voice stops along with the pain and the door to Comson’s cell opens. Believing it to be some cruel joke of Molag Bal Comson sits still in the darkness for a few moments worried he is being tortured next. What has he done to deserve such a cruel, unforgivable fate...?
A scamp appears at the gate and drags Comson’s thin figure easily across the ebony stone floor for what seemed to be a day before throwing him to the floor in front of an altar of some sort. Molag Bal crawls up from the deep cavern below the altar picks Comson up and stares at him finding an un-phased face he frowns and throws him up into the dark anchor portal above.
The Cursed Necromancer
A few days go by as Comson is bed ridden; Mike feeds him and keeps him warm to heal from the entirely disorientating experience.
“Here...found this, it’s yours is it not?” Mike asks rhetorically.
Comson stares for only a moment before snatching it and clutching it holds it to his chest as he once did that fateful day. Comson gets out of the decrepit small bed and stands realising, fair enough, he may be ready physically but he lacks gear in order to survive the wilderness.
“Lucky for you...” said Mike “I’ve come prepared” he smiles as he hands Comson a blackened wooden stave with a dark red orb entangled by the wood at the head of the staff and some black, scorched, silk robes, a pair of dark brown leather boots and finishes by handing Comson a bag full of spell tomes, both empty and full bottles of potions and a few handful’s of ingredients.
“Now...” Mike said dimly “You are to help be in becoming at least one of the most powerful necromancers...understood...” Comson nods whilst highly doubting it would be possible, but then again he had seen a lot during his life so far that should be far from the normal Dunmer life.
On the way down the stairs Comson senses familiarity, yes indeed he had once been here. The room brightens with sunlight coming from two windows either side of a door with a bell to ring to signal when a customer came in, he turned and saw the oak counter and his father, Fulis, standing completely still with a smile off into the distance and in the corner he saw his mother, Limibuna humming that same melody as she dabbled in alchemy and placed each freshly made bottle on the shelves. Suddenly the world shakes, screaming, and trampling from outside, Comson turns in horror to se that same necromancer, the one with that unforgettable Deadric staff.
“Comson...Comson!” said Mike whilst waving a hand in front of Comson’s eyes. Coming back from his once delightful delusion of dizziness Comson jumps and angrily barges into the street.
“Well...anyway...we really should be going...long road and not a lot of time...” Mike sauntered out as the wall caved in and the shop stood no more, passing Comson and beckoning him to follow.
sorry if this is story breaking or just doesnt make sense kin anyway its my first fanfic nd im rly trying just let me knw wat u guyz think nd ill continue it if enough like it.
THX GUYZ
Alchemy
A vale of ebony and stars swept over the skies quickly, time it seemed steadfast, too fast to my liking.
Just a Dunmer woman picking some snow berries for my potions and I get carried away with thoughts of what I may come up with next, if that damn Altmer doesn’t hog that alchemy station, near Irgalfa owlcloak's stall again.
I can’t wait to get back into town, or rather camp site, my schedules always full for making the curatives to poisoning by those Alit's back in Stonefalls.
I need to get back soon, no telling what creatures lurk at night.
*Snap*
Limibuna rarimcil turned slowly.
"Who's there?" she called echoing into the forest.
No response.
She readies her right hand with a fireball and one of her steel daggers in the other hand; cautiously she treads down the dirt path back into the camp site longing to get to the alchemy station.
A howl behind her sends trembling down her back.
Quickly she instinctively activates her racial defence mechanism " Ancestors Wrath ", her body a flame she turns confident and see's a white, shaggy-furred snow wolf, snarling it pounces but at that precise moment...
*ZZZZT*
A thunderbolt strikes the wolf from its left hand side.
Shocked Limibuna turns slightly to see someone in black robes.
Hoping it's not a necromancer she thanks him, as he turns and pulls down his hood she realises.
"Fulis moral...what are you doing out here!?" she is almost stuck for words as the wolf disintegrates on the side of the dirt path leaving only a small bundle of ash quickly captured by the unforgiving winds and thrown into the distance.
"I was just enjoying a midnight walk until your flames caught my eye and I had to help" He replies as if it was too obvious an answer, infuriating Limibuna.
"I had that wretched mongrel right where I wanted, you just have to interfere, don't you, and you Altmer are all the same, egotistical, wanting control over every little thing!" Limibuna shrieked remembering every time she had been judged by or had her life interrupted by others and still feeling the shock of possibly being eaten alive by a wolf in the wilderness.
Limibuna turns and strides down towards the comforting site of distant flickering light.
Finally at the alchemy station, being a regular to his stall, Limibuna steps right up and get’s on with her alchemistical discoveries.
The self made recipe she had made before hand and kept in her satchel reads:
- Mudcrab Chitin
- Vampire Dust
- Charred Skeever Hide
Done!
Taking apart the mudcrab chitin and placing it in a beaker over a small fire, half full of water she then adds the vampire dust. The colour changes from grey to turquoise before flourishing to become a deep crimson and then she gets one of her steel daggers and shreds the charred Skeever hide into very small pieces falling straight into the beaker and stirs vigorously as the heat stays on.
After six minutes of stirring to her relief it is done, she lets her hand at ease and pours the contents into a double glazed clear glass bottle. That should complete it for her next shipment to arrive in Stonefalls next week by boat.
She smiles to herself in accomplishment ignoring the fact that there will be more requests, placing the bottle gingerly into one empty divider inside her bag, next to many others.
It’s not much but it’s the best a travelling mage who’s half way to learning about potions. Sixty bottles, low on stock.
After the hard day’s work she gently walks into her tent, tired she ties the door way shut and goes to the rolled up silk sleeping bag she brought with her from Morrowind. Keeping her current and only clothes so far on which consist of wool black robes with purple stitching, white bears fur around the hood and one deliberate red patch on the robe where her right knee could touch for her own personalised style, Unfolds the sleeping bag and drifts to a sound sleep.
Silence.
Perfect she thought, didn’t want to have to tell random drunken Nords to be quiet again.
The next week in the morning, sun shining yet frost still lies on the floor freezing everything in time.
She makes her way briskly to the harbour awaiting her boat to take her all the way to Stonefalls. “Late...figures” she groans, two hours pass and only then does she see it in the distance. Bells ring as it closes in to port; she makes her way with the Khajiit traders who commonly travel and trade all over Tamriel.
A familiar black robbed figure dashes onboard with a bundle of scrolls cradled in his arms.
“Oh Fulis, didn’t realise you took your enchanting seriously” she said as she notices the symbols on a folded over backwards page.
He kneels down gets his bag and places the scrolls separately from books inside to organise it, he then stands back up and nods “ yes I must, I enchant weapons for anyone willing to pay of course, times are tough, you know” he smiles half heartedly.
She nods and turns to look out to sea as the boat moves slowly away from the harbour, and sails south directly for Stonefalls.
Weather warms as they sail between The Rift and Morrowind but winds stay strong pushing the boat fast enough for a slight breeze to flow into everyone on deck.
Sunlight illuminating the surface of the cold dark waters, dancing fish in the sea and wind in her hair she stares out onto the horizon.
“So why are you heading into Stonefalls?” Fulis asks gently.
“I am helping the people who have been poisoned by those Alit’s, I make curatives among other things...” she says not really paying attention to anything in particular, she turns and puts her elbows on the railing facing into the ship, so dose Fulis.
“And why do you prefer to ship every now and then from Bleakrock isle to the Stonefalls instead of living there?” he questions.
A sigh that means she knows he wasn’t leaving anytime soon, “I figured it would be safer than on the island away from the main bulk of the land further away from Cyrodil and all that war, might I ask, how does a high elf not get at least ridiculed out here, your Altmeri Dominion are you not?” she says just realizing how dangerous it could or could’ve been for him.
“No, I never agreed with all their pointless endeavours that we all were expected to do, and the views on anything to be honest were worse...” he stops and falls silent.
Not wanting to annoy him she steps forward to head to the bar inside the cabin like part that’s on the same level as the dock, “I’m going in for a drink, see you later...”, she waves while walking on.
Bewitchment
Limibuna awakes from her slumber to find a hazy vision of a familiar worried face.
“Wake up! No time to explain” blood splatters over her as she jolts upwards to question why he had woke her up at this time.
As she comes too she realizes the arrow pinning him to the wall, “by the eight divines! What’s happening!” she exclaims as she tears the bedding to use as a short term bandage after snapping the end of the arrow and pulling him through.
“No...Arghh! You must go on without me...” she finishes putting the bandage together and places one of his arms over her shoulder and walks slowly to take him with her to a chair and lets him drop into it.
Limibuna harnesses flames in her hand and puts one of her steel daggers to it, “this may hurt, I’m sorry...” she seals his wound on both ends.
She walks over to her bed and searches for her bag of remedies to ease his pain.
The door opens with her standing directly behind it; she can see three shadows on the floor and stands still, silent.
“And who have we here...a high elf...never had much taste for your kind altmer, and seriously? Travelling unguarded and in plain sight.” The orcish voice insults with scorn.
“I’m no criminal...I’ve never in all my days, caused such an offence to bring you here” he calmly explains.
“Supposedly neither has anyone else I’ve come across...but...such scum must exist in this world and I intend to hunt them down and put an end to it, by the honour of my ancestors...” he says as he raises his last arrow for his target.
The door slams and Limibuna flings her fire bolt that she had been charging into his back, scorching his leather armour, the hunter turns to try and shoot for her but barely misses, scratching her cheek and she throws the red hot dagger for his head and then he plummets to the ground with a dying groan of pain.
Gasping realising there are still two others, hooded and masked each with duel ebony daggers.
Fulis forces the last of his strength to use chain lightening to knock the two out cold.
Grabbing her bag, she scurries past the bodies on the floor and hands a small bottle labelled fortify and restore health.
He snatches the bottle and downs it all, quickly the wounds close and blood stops pouring out and scars over.
“It’s not a perfect brew so your scars will heal in a few days” she explains as she helps him out of the chair.
“It’s ok I can walk now...” he says patting her on the shoulder kindly, nodding she turns and makes sure she hadn’t forgotten anything.
“Ok...I don’t know what sort of trouble you’re in but it seems we need to work together here...” she says as she walks cautiously into the bar like part of the dock under the cabin above reserved for the captain of the ship, next to Fulis, fire bolt in her right hand and dagger in the left.
Arrows everywhere, blood and bodies also astray both Ebon heart pact and Daggerfall covenant , angry scorch marks on the walls, being a lot to take in Limibuna is frozen in shock, sinking to her knees she lets one tear fall to the floor before getting up sharply and firmly striding out to on deck.
A flurry of furious flames coat her and she readies her hands with fireball’s, she turns slowly and stares at a few hooded obviously assassins of some sort, screaming in anger she throws a charged fireball using both hands.
The sinister looking characters only notice it for a second before a great explosion sends few flying overboard and most were charred to be only ash replicas of their former much more lively selves.
The flames start the travelling fires across the ship of oil that another behind her was pouring and the flames climb quickly into the pot and smash it from the heat and the contents fall all over the unsuspecting Daggerfall covenant hunter.
Two arrows shot at her from on the upper deck where the steering wheel is, they simply incinerate before they touch her clothes and in response she jumps and using the shockwave from another fireball to shoot her further up and lands in front of them and changes one hand to the fury spell and casts it on both of them making them kill each other.
When she awakes from her black-out-rage, the flames diminish around her as she falls to the floor crying and turn to face the sky and screams before passing out as the sails fall, a cluster of other explosions on the lower deck and the ship begins to sink.
Mustering what strength he has which is more than he expected, most likely because of the potion he took earlier effect’s, he manages to reach the steering wheel and he makes a hard turn right wards and drags Limibuna to the steering wheel and uses one of his spare belts to tie her safely to it, awaiting impact he quickly tries to do the same for himself but it’s too late.
A moment froze for a second as he began to be flung overboard onto the dry land, the wooden deck still a flame crashing and in result breaking into a low cliff which dug into the lowest floor of the ship where some people slept, no doubt dead by now.
But.
Then time sped back up and he was hurled onto the ground and, although she was safely tied to the steering wheel she violently jolted forwards due to the crashing of the boat.
Suddenly Limibuna wakes up with a jolt, wide awake, gasping for a few moments, struggling curiously she finds herself tied to the helm somehow, slowly looking across the ship her eyes come into focus as the morning sun shines into them.
“Fulis...FULIS!?” she screams thinking the worse must have happened but she regains initiative, she forcibly activates her ancestors wraith barely but it burns the belt enough to shrug off and she falls slightly forward catching her breath and feeling her neck as she can feel the whip lash from the crashing.
It all comes flooding back, the rage, the blood the flames, explosions, its all unthinkable to her as a mainly a humanitarian person, she mustn’t lose control again, standing up, stretching to waken up her aching body the strides towards the stairs to the half destroyed deck of the ship so that she may get onto dry land once more.
Looking down at the stairs she realizes, there are no more stairs and if she dosent jump far enough its water down there for who knows how long.
One deep breath and a quick jog start, she soars and falls at the same time landing on the dock barely, nearly falling backwards but forces her weight forward and falls onto the floor, meanwhile, the part she jumped from falls down into the dark dank murky green waters, into the abyss.
Slightly disorientated, still, she gets back up sharply, slowly she walks onto land and turns to her relief to see Fulis, lying on the ground unconscious but unharmed seemingly and with no scars now, but that could mean two things, that the potion saved him or the potion wore off too soon making it seem that he is still alive.
Cascading darkness
“So...what happened next mother...” asked anxiously the little dark elf, tucked into his bed.
The next morning, brilliant sun shine squeezes in the gap in Comson’s curtains, shining in his eyes he lifts his hand blocks its beam and opens his eyes, gets out of bed, kneels to his small chest and puts on some light, loose brown leather trousers, cloth socks, again leather shoes and a dark purple woollen jumper, pulling his fairly long dark brown braided pony tail out of the back of his jumper.
He expertly find’s his stolen book of “Dark Magic” he stole two years back from Fulis’s bag, looks around and continues to read on “Rune prison” , re-reads the incantation, holding the book to his chest, looking at the ceiling, to prove to himself he knows the spell.
Hearing his parents moving things around in the shop they run on the ground floor, downstairs, he places the book under his bed under a clutter of old toys such as wooden swords and a practice dummy and so on...
He sits on the stairs watching them, placing potions on the counters and shelves or putting parchments and tomes into lockable glass show cases, a dark green robbed man walks in, a bit early he thought but he just watched the friendly faces come by as he always did before running off into town to see his friends.
This man had a strange and awe-worthy stave on his back made of black steel and has a disfigured skull on top holding a soul gem in its mouth.
Fulis came to the customer with a smile and said “What can I do for a fellow mage, huh? Enchantments maybe...”
A couple minutes pass and this stranger says nothing, hooded, Comson could not tell what was going on.
The gem began to glow and the man reached round to grab his staff, Fulis looked up at Comson with a worried expression, his mother had no idea she was happily humming a tune to herself as she made some new potion experiments in the corner.
Straight away Comson knew something was wrong and he had to protect his family, the odd man’s hand glowing an ominous blue was obviously charging some spell and Comson did not want to give this one a chance to try anything and so, he holds out his hands and cast’s his Rune prison upon the dark sorcerer.
Relieved Fulis runs to grab Comson and shouts on the shocked Limibuna to come with him as they run out into the streets of town, people screaming and running, the skies turn black and stormy, confused they look around but the barely phased Comson points out a thing glowing the same colour as the dark sorcerer’s hand, in the sky.
Passing Comson to his mother Fulis kisses her on the head telling her to run with Comson to safety and runs into the crowd of undead walking and killing as he goes.
“Why’s dad leaving?” the teary eyed Dunmer boy asks.
Limibuna could not bring it to herself to even speak and turns to run to the next village leaving only a tear that escaped her will and dropped onto the cobblestone pathway.
With a outstretched hand Comson saw the last smile from his father he will ever see as he turned to reassure his son, but then his face changed, confused perhaps ?, Limibuna stopped, something was keeping them from advancing to safety.
Comson Moral turned to see the same necromancer from back in the shop glaring coldly into his eyes, pointing his stave at Limibuna and firing something.
A flash of ghastly green and then they fell, she had been paralyzed, and hearing Fulis scream “NO! Get away from my family!”
Terrified and confused Comson is pried from his mother’s arms and dangled in mid air held by the scruff of the neck of his purple woollen jumper, barely struggling as he knew that it was a futile attempt to try and escape the grasp of death.
Deadric Imprisonment
Sitting in a dank, dark dungeon, hair grown wild and long, eyes a misty crimson with nothing but the screams from tortured and dying people for company, Comson moral stares at the floor gloomily, nothing to do but wait...
Wait...wait for what? It’s not like anyone can save him now, stuck in the realm of Cold Harbour for an eternity.
Aged approximately twenty six, Comson moral, a fairly well educated young man in magic, history, the common language and his native dark elven language seemed to hold such potential, what a waste it is that he has been imprisoned here of all places...
Mike snakus agreed all too well, what a waste indeed and so – after gaining better gear and money in which to get to – arrives at Comson’s childhood home saunters casually up the stairs as if he had lived here himself and kneels to feel through the ash and scrapes out the book, the book of dark magic...
Mike then proceeds downhill towards the still open dark anchor, for some reason the deadra do not attack him and he stops to marvel at the luminescent beauty of its energy which radiated an aura of beckoning servitude. He drops the book at his feet; it falls loudly, lying open at a random page; he places down the black soul gem filled with the soul of what once was a necromancer, now comfortably becoming used to his shady form in the soul cairn, gently, places his left hand on the soul gem peeling his gloves off as he does so to then go on to draw his blade and stabs himself in his hand then speaks in a ancient ruinic language: “decca deadra duraca...”
The blood turns dark and a most foul slimy texture takes over, then it glows with utter blackness – continuing the ritual he says: “Open the gates...I shall serve...”
A horrifying voice starts in Comson’s head “A necromancer demands your summons....hahaha...be gone with you...” the voice stops along with the pain and the door to Comson’s cell opens. Believing it to be some cruel joke of Molag Bal Comson sits still in the darkness for a few moments worried he is being tortured next. What has he done to deserve such a cruel, unforgivable fate...?
A scamp appears at the gate and drags Comson’s thin figure easily across the ebony stone floor for what seemed to be a day before throwing him to the floor in front of an altar of some sort. Molag Bal crawls up from the deep cavern below the altar picks Comson up and stares at him finding an un-phased face he frowns and throws him up into the dark anchor portal above.
The Cursed Necromancer
A few days go by as Comson is bed ridden; Mike feeds him and keeps him warm to heal from the entirely disorientating experience.
“Here...found this, it’s yours is it not?” Mike asks rhetorically.
Comson stares for only a moment before snatching it and clutching it holds it to his chest as he once did that fateful day. Comson gets out of the decrepit small bed and stands realising, fair enough, he may be ready physically but he lacks gear in order to survive the wilderness.
“Lucky for you...” said Mike “I’ve come prepared” he smiles as he hands Comson a blackened wooden stave with a dark red orb entangled by the wood at the head of the staff and some black, scorched, silk robes, a pair of dark brown leather boots and finishes by handing Comson a bag full of spell tomes, both empty and full bottles of potions and a few handful’s of ingredients.
“Now...” Mike said dimly “You are to help be in becoming at least one of the most powerful necromancers...understood...” Comson nods whilst highly doubting it would be possible, but then again he had seen a lot during his life so far that should be far from the normal Dunmer life.
On the way down the stairs Comson senses familiarity, yes indeed he had once been here. The room brightens with sunlight coming from two windows either side of a door with a bell to ring to signal when a customer came in, he turned and saw the oak counter and his father, Fulis, standing completely still with a smile off into the distance and in the corner he saw his mother, Limibuna humming that same melody as she dabbled in alchemy and placed each freshly made bottle on the shelves. Suddenly the world shakes, screaming, and trampling from outside, Comson turns in horror to se that same necromancer, the one with that unforgettable Deadric staff.
“Comson...Comson!” said Mike whilst waving a hand in front of Comson’s eyes. Coming back from his once delightful delusion of dizziness Comson jumps and angrily barges into the street.
“Well...anyway...we really should be going...long road and not a lot of time...” Mike sauntered out as the wall caved in and the shop stood no more, passing Comson and beckoning him to follow.
sorry if this is story breaking or just doesnt make sense kin anyway its my first fanfic nd im rly trying just let me knw wat u guyz think nd ill continue it if enough like it.
THX GUYZ
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MIng_ESO✭✭✭Your chapter title here
[DonottypeSPOILER] Your story here[Donottype/SPOILER]
Take the words Donottype out to shorten your story and shorten your post so you can easily go to each chapter and add to it.Your story hereEdited by MIng_ESO on April 1, 2014 9:20PM1