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[Story] Tell me traveller, have you heard the tale of...
druidicwolf
✭✭
Whoa there wanderer, earlier this day I found myself doing as you do now, browsing this here corner of the Elder Scroll forums. Whilst enjoying adventures shared to us by the many scriveners here and idea blossomed into a tale... in my very own imaginarium. Nothing stolen, perspire not with worry for my soul remains untainted of plagiary.
So, below you will find the first chunk of a tale that I intend to finish in parts of three. Akatosh willing, of course.
Please, I ask of you to forgive three errs you may find:
Forgive the spelling.
Forgive the grammatical faults.
Forgive the stale scent you may find this story possesses.
And off we go, into a life lived by another.
Have you heard the tale of...
Part I/III
Soon after departing from Davons Watch they chanced upon each other. Recalling the last time a stranger had not met him with distrust proved to be a futile task for Selcis. It was not so with the argonian; his reptilian eyes had only conveyed friendly interest, and that simple look alone was a welcome change for Selcis. They had become fast friends, and for the last few weeks they ventured over the harsh, sulphuric tainted slopes of Stonefalls in search of hidden secrets and shards of power.
War danced in Tamriel, its deadly rhythm promising a crown and a ruby throne. One only needed to reach out with merciless fingers and take it; so the most daring, cunning and brutal dancers now pranced on corpse ridden fields as war frolicked in the blood of their sons and daughters.
Selcis’s bloodline emanated from High Rock, a bretonic heritage flowed through his veins. In his travels great care was needed when dealing with strangers, in Stonefalls his lineage alone could mean a swift execution. The Ebonheart Alliance, of which Stonefalls was a member, were now sworn enemies of High Rock. High Rock had formed a tripod alliance for themselves known as the Daggerfall Covenant. Selcis wanted nothing to do with the Daggerfall Covenant; he wished no part in their pointless war. The alliances, he thought, shaking his for the hundredth time, if they would only sit down together and talk, with an understanding of the others concerns, the others wants and needs, then they could peacefully seat someone who had fair values and honorable intentions for all upon Cyrodiil’s ruby throne. Instead, they chose to embrace death.
“What do you think?” Asked Selcis, staring into the darkened depths of a cave.
“This one does not like darkness, nor does this one like caves. Combine the two and...” Said Sits-on-Frogs, his worried look that made it clear how he felt about the combination.
“Well, this is exactly why we’re out here.” Said Selcis settling into a crouch, “For adventure my friend, for the unknown.” A toothy smile spread across Selcis’s face and a spark of mischief glinted in his blue eyes. Crouching low he shuffled his way towards the rocky maw.
Sits-on-Frogs grinned. Selcis’s love of the unknown and lust for adrenaline inducing adventure once again leapt out and tugged at the argonians fears, tearing them away. He followed his friend into the shadows.
“Wait, let me just...” Selcis said lifting his hands, he moved them in slow, subtle patterns while murmuring words that almost made sense to Sits-on-Frogs, but the meaning slipped into the endless void at he back of his mind leaving him wondering what exactly Selcis had said. Selcis touched the argonian on his shoulder which sent a slight prickling sensation through his body and the darkness around him vanished revealing the inside of the cave.
“That should last us a while.” Said Selcis with a nod. Night Eye, thought Selcis, a simple spell that had time and time again proven to be at the fore of his most used spells in his magic arsenal. He could never thank the man who had taught him the workings of Night Eye enough. Renion Skyrar was his name, Selcis decided that if they crossed paths again, he would buy the sorcerer several hot meals and all the mead he could guzzle... for a week at least, before he ran out of coin.
On soft feet the pair moved deeper into the cave, painstakingly trying not to disturb whatever or whoever may be slumbering within. Selcis was soon greeted with a wall of disappointment as the cave ended in rock, dirt and sporadic roots jutting outwards as if in search of freedom from their earthen captor.
“This place dries my scales. We should leave, there is nothing here.” Said Sits-on-Frogs, unease clear in his voice.
“Rats! I was sure there would be something in here.” Said Selcis. He booted a stone as his frustration got the better of him, it skittered across the ground to the back of the cave and bounced arching into the air and over a large rock where it struck something that sounded wholly out of place, a dull hollow whack.
“What, did you hear that?” Asked Selcis, furrowing his brow and shooting a quick glance at his companion. “That sounded like... ”
Selcis crept to where the stone had vanished and peeked behind the rock that concealed the cause of the unexpected sound.
“Hey, Sits-on-Frogs, come here, there’s a... yes! It’s, this is unbelievable, it’s a chest!” Said Selcis, kneeling before of their discovered treasure. As chests go, this one was small and made of a dark wood with metal bands bolted along its width. A rusted iron padlock sealed the chest’s contents inside, keeping them safe from prying hands.
“Whoever hid this has not visited this forsaken hole in a long while.” Said Sits-on-Frogs as he brushed away a layer of dirt that caked the top of the chest.
“Good. We can take our time. I found some lock picks a while back. I’ve been wanting to try them out. They are in here somewhere.” Selcis rummaged inside his backpack and produced two thin metal picks, one short and hooked and the other long with a small spike attached to the end, the longer spiked pick always made him think of a tiny person wielding it as a hammer.
Selcis gave the lock a quick wipe and a hearty blow then seated himself, trying to get as comfortable as possible. He slid each of the picks into the lock and began to gently twist and maneuver them.
“Selcis, you have done this before, yes?” Asked Sits-on-Frogs, his reptilian eyes were narrow slits accompanied with the beginnings of a serrated smile, an expression of both curiosity and playful accusation. It had taken Selcis several days to begin to notice the subtleties of argonian facial expressions, their features were far more exotic and ridgid when compared to bretons, nords and elves, but he understood what to look for now, the slight changes in brow and the shifting glint on moving scales, the expressions were there. Their humor, now that was a topic that still baffled Selcis at times.
Selcis grunted. “Whatever do you mean.” He returned the smile. “If... I can just...” He felt the lengthier of the two picks bend before the sharp metallic sound of it snapping signaled the picks end. “Akatosh damn it!” Selcis cursed. Luckily he was still able to pull the broken pick from the padlocks keyhole. “There’s a bit of luck, we can try again, I have more picks.”
Sits-on-Frogs held scaled hands out towards Selcis, “Let this one try. My fingers are twitching. I feel they are nimble this day, my friend.”
Selcis shrugged and handed Sits-on-Frogs the fragile lock picks. His argonian friend inserted the tools into the rusted lock and after a few brief moments of wiggling the lock clunked open.
“Well, I think I’m not the only one who has done this before.” Said Selcis, gripping Sits-on-Frogs shoulder and barking out an excited chuckle.
Together they cracked opened the abandoned chest, the cave filled with the sound of grinding hinges.
To be continued...
Edited by druidicwolf on April 22, 2014 4:43PM So, below you will find the first chunk of a tale that I intend to finish in parts of three. Akatosh willing, of course.
Please, I ask of you to forgive three errs you may find:
Forgive the spelling.
Forgive the grammatical faults.
Forgive the stale scent you may find this story possesses.
And off we go, into a life lived by another.
Have you heard the tale of...
Part I/III
Soon after departing from Davons Watch they chanced upon each other. Recalling the last time a stranger had not met him with distrust proved to be a futile task for Selcis. It was not so with the argonian; his reptilian eyes had only conveyed friendly interest, and that simple look alone was a welcome change for Selcis. They had become fast friends, and for the last few weeks they ventured over the harsh, sulphuric tainted slopes of Stonefalls in search of hidden secrets and shards of power.
War danced in Tamriel, its deadly rhythm promising a crown and a ruby throne. One only needed to reach out with merciless fingers and take it; so the most daring, cunning and brutal dancers now pranced on corpse ridden fields as war frolicked in the blood of their sons and daughters.
Selcis’s bloodline emanated from High Rock, a bretonic heritage flowed through his veins. In his travels great care was needed when dealing with strangers, in Stonefalls his lineage alone could mean a swift execution. The Ebonheart Alliance, of which Stonefalls was a member, were now sworn enemies of High Rock. High Rock had formed a tripod alliance for themselves known as the Daggerfall Covenant. Selcis wanted nothing to do with the Daggerfall Covenant; he wished no part in their pointless war. The alliances, he thought, shaking his for the hundredth time, if they would only sit down together and talk, with an understanding of the others concerns, the others wants and needs, then they could peacefully seat someone who had fair values and honorable intentions for all upon Cyrodiil’s ruby throne. Instead, they chose to embrace death.
“What do you think?” Asked Selcis, staring into the darkened depths of a cave.
“This one does not like darkness, nor does this one like caves. Combine the two and...” Said Sits-on-Frogs, his worried look that made it clear how he felt about the combination.
“Well, this is exactly why we’re out here.” Said Selcis settling into a crouch, “For adventure my friend, for the unknown.” A toothy smile spread across Selcis’s face and a spark of mischief glinted in his blue eyes. Crouching low he shuffled his way towards the rocky maw.
Sits-on-Frogs grinned. Selcis’s love of the unknown and lust for adrenaline inducing adventure once again leapt out and tugged at the argonians fears, tearing them away. He followed his friend into the shadows.
“Wait, let me just...” Selcis said lifting his hands, he moved them in slow, subtle patterns while murmuring words that almost made sense to Sits-on-Frogs, but the meaning slipped into the endless void at he back of his mind leaving him wondering what exactly Selcis had said. Selcis touched the argonian on his shoulder which sent a slight prickling sensation through his body and the darkness around him vanished revealing the inside of the cave.
“That should last us a while.” Said Selcis with a nod. Night Eye, thought Selcis, a simple spell that had time and time again proven to be at the fore of his most used spells in his magic arsenal. He could never thank the man who had taught him the workings of Night Eye enough. Renion Skyrar was his name, Selcis decided that if they crossed paths again, he would buy the sorcerer several hot meals and all the mead he could guzzle... for a week at least, before he ran out of coin.
On soft feet the pair moved deeper into the cave, painstakingly trying not to disturb whatever or whoever may be slumbering within. Selcis was soon greeted with a wall of disappointment as the cave ended in rock, dirt and sporadic roots jutting outwards as if in search of freedom from their earthen captor.
“This place dries my scales. We should leave, there is nothing here.” Said Sits-on-Frogs, unease clear in his voice.
“Rats! I was sure there would be something in here.” Said Selcis. He booted a stone as his frustration got the better of him, it skittered across the ground to the back of the cave and bounced arching into the air and over a large rock where it struck something that sounded wholly out of place, a dull hollow whack.
“What, did you hear that?” Asked Selcis, furrowing his brow and shooting a quick glance at his companion. “That sounded like... ”
Selcis crept to where the stone had vanished and peeked behind the rock that concealed the cause of the unexpected sound.
“Hey, Sits-on-Frogs, come here, there’s a... yes! It’s, this is unbelievable, it’s a chest!” Said Selcis, kneeling before of their discovered treasure. As chests go, this one was small and made of a dark wood with metal bands bolted along its width. A rusted iron padlock sealed the chest’s contents inside, keeping them safe from prying hands.
“Whoever hid this has not visited this forsaken hole in a long while.” Said Sits-on-Frogs as he brushed away a layer of dirt that caked the top of the chest.
“Good. We can take our time. I found some lock picks a while back. I’ve been wanting to try them out. They are in here somewhere.” Selcis rummaged inside his backpack and produced two thin metal picks, one short and hooked and the other long with a small spike attached to the end, the longer spiked pick always made him think of a tiny person wielding it as a hammer.
Selcis gave the lock a quick wipe and a hearty blow then seated himself, trying to get as comfortable as possible. He slid each of the picks into the lock and began to gently twist and maneuver them.
“Selcis, you have done this before, yes?” Asked Sits-on-Frogs, his reptilian eyes were narrow slits accompanied with the beginnings of a serrated smile, an expression of both curiosity and playful accusation. It had taken Selcis several days to begin to notice the subtleties of argonian facial expressions, their features were far more exotic and ridgid when compared to bretons, nords and elves, but he understood what to look for now, the slight changes in brow and the shifting glint on moving scales, the expressions were there. Their humor, now that was a topic that still baffled Selcis at times.
Selcis grunted. “Whatever do you mean.” He returned the smile. “If... I can just...” He felt the lengthier of the two picks bend before the sharp metallic sound of it snapping signaled the picks end. “Akatosh damn it!” Selcis cursed. Luckily he was still able to pull the broken pick from the padlocks keyhole. “There’s a bit of luck, we can try again, I have more picks.”
Sits-on-Frogs held scaled hands out towards Selcis, “Let this one try. My fingers are twitching. I feel they are nimble this day, my friend.”
Selcis shrugged and handed Sits-on-Frogs the fragile lock picks. His argonian friend inserted the tools into the rusted lock and after a few brief moments of wiggling the lock clunked open.
“Well, I think I’m not the only one who has done this before.” Said Selcis, gripping Sits-on-Frogs shoulder and barking out an excited chuckle.
Together they cracked opened the abandoned chest, the cave filled with the sound of grinding hinges.
To be continued...
0
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druidicwolf✭✭Part II/III
Flickering flames devoured the firewood with crackling delight. The idol Selcis and Sits-on-Frogs had found inside the hidden chest gleamed in the fires effulgence. Selcis had wiped it down as best he could given all he had at his disposal was an already dirty rag that someone had used to wrap around the treasure.
Sits-on-Frogs looked up from the gold coins he sat counting. “This one still thinks we must be rid of that. It is not right, a sense of foulness comes from within it.”
“Huh?” Said Selcis, coming out of his reverie. “Oh, no. You worry too much my friend. It might even fetch a pretty coin or two. It has some reptilian features, are you sure you do not know who this is meant to be? I mean no offence.”
Sits-on-Frogs frowned, “No, I do not, not all reptilians are my kin, Selcis, and one would be a fool to part with gold for such... strangeness.”
“Speaking of gold, how much did we find?” Said Selcis prodding the conversation to less confrontational subjects.
“Fifty-two coins, all gold.” Said Sits-on-Frogs, pleased with their discovery. He scooped up the coins and shoved them into a leather pouch.
“Great. We can head to Davons Watch, sleep in a proper bed, eat a proper meal, drink ourselves into stupidity and maybe find some of the more feminine type of company. The sky bores me, a ceiling would be a welcome change.” Said Selcis, sighing heavily. Selcis placed the horned idol down beside his bedroll and sprawled onto his back. “Wake me when it’s my watch, would you.” Selcis closed his eyes.
“Yes, my friend.” Said Sits-on-Frogs.
The void. Everywhere and nowhere at the same time, it circled him, a charcoal whirlpool with himself at the its core. He stood on a small rock outcropping, his only purchase against the crushing tide. He floated, lost, detached from what was real, from hunger, from thirst, from himself.
“Where am I?”
“You are with me.” Came a voice from the void. A soft droning thunder in a raging storm.
“Who’s there? Who are you?” Asked Selcis. Fear blossomed in his chest. He was a mere speck in the vast emptiness around him, a flea on a cosmic sheet; he was insignificant. The void swirled around him, threatening to smother him.
“I am truth. I am the future. I am here for you. Do not fear, Selcis, I will protect you, I will be your shield, your cure against the venomous fangs of evil.” Said the void.
Selcis felt a warmth seep into him. Was it the voice? He wondered, did it reach out in comfort, to reassure him, to protect him as promised from the ferocity of the darkness around him, from the evil that lurked therein? Selcis felt his fear wane, he felt his terror ebb away from him, replaced by a cradling warmth; his mother used to cradle him so, he thought. Selcis felt safe, a sense of peace replaced his fear.
“I... thank you. But, where am I?”
“You are where you need to be, Selcis. Our meeting was fated eons ago. Selcis, do wish to know the truth? Do you wish to see through the curtain of lies that blankets your vision?” Said the void.
“What truth? I don’t know what you are talking about. Can you take me home? This place... I wish to leave this place.” Said Selcis as he gazed into the nothingness that threatened to absorb his very being and tear away the peace he had found.
“Then let us leave, let us see all that you need to know.” Said the voice.
Selcis’s feet lifted off his stone purchase, he drifted upward, or downward, he was not sure, he did not care, he would be protected, no matter what. Silver spots sprouted across the darkness, holes in the void. He began to move through the darkness, faster and faster, the spots stretched into silver streaks, smearing across a cosmic path into the endless forever.
He slowed, a yellow light blinked below him. Abruptly he began to descend towards the beacon of light. A camp, he realized, as his descent brought him near enough to see. His feet gently touched the ground. He blinked, wincing at the stinging assault against his eyes as his vision adjusted to the light of the campfire Sits-on-Frogs sat beside.
“Sits-on-Frogs!” Selcis called out, happy to see someone he knew and cared for. Sits-on-Frogs did not look up, nor did he reply. Could he not hear him?
“No, he can not hear you.” Said the void. “You must watch, feel what he feels. Let the lies become truth.”
Sits-on-Frog stared into the flames. He knew he shouldn't, it was his turn to keep watch, and staring into the fire would blind him to the shadows around their camp site. Leaving them vulnerable, he would fail to see threats skulking about. But he did not care. He had more troubling thoughts to contemplate. The gold, the idol. Oh, how he wanted the idol. It had reptilian features, obviously it was meant for one of argonian blood, not a breton; boot-scum need not own such beauty. Why was Selcis being so stubborn? Why would he not be rid of it? He had tried to convince him, to tell him it was something foul, something evil. Why would he not just do what Sits-on-Frogs wanted and be rid of it, so he could have it. Sits-on-Frogs ginned.
Gold, he thought. Only fifty-two pieces of it. Sure, that would buy a lot of meals and drink, plenty nights of feathered beds. He would have to split it though, he would have to share it with Selcis. Why? He was the one who opened the chest, not the breton idiot who had tried and failed as expected. Without him there would be no gold. No idol. No, this would not do. It was all rightfully his, Selcis deserved nothing.
Sits-on-Frogs glanced over at the prone figure of Selcis. An hour had passed since he had closed his eyes to sleep, his breathing was shallow, his body appeared relaxed. He looked to be in a deep, peaceful sleep. Sits-on-Frog stood and quietly moved to stand over the sleeping breton. He looked around their camp, into the shadows, a habitual act to see if anyone was watching, pointless really, he doubted he would notice if anyone were hiding outside the camp light.
He stared down at the sleeping breton. It had to be done, there was no other way. Its not like the breton would see reason and give the idol and gold to him, even though he deserved it all. No, too stubborn, too greedy, he hoped the Ebonheart Pact crushed the Daggerfall Covenant soon, then Tamriel could be rid of the gutter and waste that was High Rock and the bretons.
Sits-on-Frog unsheathed his dagger, it blade glinted in the soft light of the flames. He knelt beside the sleeping man and placed its point at his ribs and pushed, cold steel slid between the bones of Selcis’s rib cage and sliced into his heart. Selcis jerked awake, too late, his life drained out him, an unstoppable torrent of abandon. Nothingness claimed him with the cold grasp of finality.
“It is his nature. It is in all of them!” Bellowed the voice in the void.
“You’re dreaming, Selcis!”
Selcis bolted upright, sweating and breathing heavily. “Ah...” He called out. He felt disorientated, confused. Is he dead? He felt for the puncture at his side. No blood, yet he could still feel the blade as it scraped its way inside of him, a ghostly pain, now fading.
“My friend, are you well?” Asked Sits-on-Frogs. He sat at the edge of the camp, where the light ended and the dancing shadows began. “You were making noises in your slumber. This one was beginning to worry.”
“Uh. Yes.” Said Selcis, looking around the camp. He swallow hard, his throat dry. The campfire popped sending sparks twirling upwards into the night sky. “Yes, I’m alright. Just a dream. Just a dream.” He said and lay back down on his side. He stared at the idol. “Just a dream.”
To be continued...Edited by druidicwolf on April 23, 2014 3:14PM0