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Sun, sands & stars
Rev Rielle
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*On a side-table you find a poem scribbled down on a loose piece of parchment*
More than Words
Sometimes it's nice to take respite,
and stay and read by candlelight.
Of Highrock kings, or the Black Marsh,
or things that may yet come to pass.
Of cities where bright banners fly,
atop spires piercing the sky.
Of sun-soaked barren redguard lands,
or stars above Elsweyr sands.
Perchance they'll tell of a bleak realm,
of Skyrim and it's Winterhelm.
Or greens of Valenwood where stands,
the mightiest of all woodlands.
Or maybe the pages will hold,
A path to treasure, little told.
Perhaps they paint a vivid scene,
tranquil, serene, just like a dream.
When filled with words so clear and true,
the pages they will speak to you.
And though unmoved as you're bewitched,
You'll journey far and be enriched.
And no more just words on a page,
the scenes will burst and come ablaze.
The colours dance, the sounds they sing,
sensors embrace this wonderous thing.
Yes, it is nice so take respite,
and lose yourself on a clear night.
For little's known what lies within.
Just read, and let the joy begin.
Edited by Rev Rielle on January 29, 2024 7:00AM More than WordsSometimes it's nice to take respite,
and stay and read by candlelight.
Of Highrock kings, or the Black Marsh,
or things that may yet come to pass.
Of cities where bright banners fly,
atop spires piercing the sky.
Of sun-soaked barren redguard lands,
or stars above Elsweyr sands.
Perchance they'll tell of a bleak realm,
of Skyrim and it's Winterhelm.
Or greens of Valenwood where stands,
the mightiest of all woodlands.
Or maybe the pages will hold,
A path to treasure, little told.
Perhaps they paint a vivid scene,
tranquil, serene, just like a dream.
When filled with words so clear and true,
the pages they will speak to you.
And though unmoved as you're bewitched,
You'll journey far and be enriched.
And no more just words on a page,
the scenes will burst and come ablaze.
The colours dance, the sounds they sing,
sensors embrace this wonderous thing.
Yes, it is nice so take respite,
and lose yourself on a clear night.
For little's known what lies within.
Just read, and let the joy begin.
If you can be anything, be kind.
9
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Rev Rielle✭✭✭✭✭
✭*You look around the small, simple room. A somewhat strange open book catches your eye. The author has not signed their name, but the subject they've written about seems eerily familiar. And the ink is still fresh on the page. Perhaps you are not the only one who's been through tumultuous times of late.*
Tears.
Endless tears.
Swimming and swirling about like a great school of fish.
Pressing upon me like a hurricane's roar.
I'm tossed to and fro.
End over end, and over again.
Akin to a grain of sand tumbling across the dunes of the Alik’r Desert.
Never ending.
Eyes locked tight I feel fresh breath kiss my cheek.
I try to focus.
It is wind. It is a great force.
A cold tempest crushing upon me as I'm lifted up, higher and higher.
Tears rise and fall below, groping ever after as I ascend, above my soaking misery.
Out of the cold dark depths of seething confusion.
I dare a glimpse but the gale seizes the opportunity and fervently returns my tears, ravishing my sight.
Eyes squeeze tight again as the kraken cups me in it's arm, hurling me upwards.
Over the edge of reason.
I crash down under the weight of the torrent, sprawling out on my back.
Like a starfish washed upon the rocks.
Relative stillness now.
Fewer tears remain. The stragglers calmly roll off my cheeks.
I feel a heaving as my hysterical heart tries to burst free, to escape madness.
I grasp and gather it up, along with my thoughts. Holding them close I slowly soothe my distraught children.
The maelstrom begins to subside.
But something is missing, something no longer inside. A coldness, an emptiness.
A sense of loss washes over in a flush of goose bumps.
I shiver.
I brave to perceive my surroundings again.
Straining, I see grey cloudy figures about, moving and changing form.
Behind them, seemingly grand tall trees loom high overhead, waving massive white canvas leaves fluttering in the breeze.
They are no palms.
I try to focus, but the veil lifts no further.
With hands and fingers I explore this new world.
Cold and hard. Wooden.
Where are the sands?
This was not how it should be.
This was not how my rite of passage should end.
Feelings of shame slowly slither in and coil up in a corner of my foggy mind.
They sew seeds of doubt, dishonour.
For my family, my Ra'gada, Tall Papa, Leki.
Only the strong survive. Only those return from the desert.
This is no desert. Where am I?
Disgraced.
I close my eyes, recoiling my senses.
Exhausted, slumber takes me.Edited by Rev Rielle on July 3, 2017 7:47AMIf you can be anything, be kind.3 -
Rev Rielle✭✭✭✭✭
✭*Somewhere outside of Aswala Stables you find some headstones. In front of one; a piece of cloth held down by a stone. Scrawled upon the cloth are words, somewhat weathered by sun and sand*
With gracious sun,
And stars and sands,
You danced final farewell,
On voyage now,
Gaunt-oarman helmed,
Sung off by far knell.
The amber light,
And purple tinge,
Showed breath slowed for last rest;
Your silhouette,
Embraced the dark,
The flames set in the west.
Of future bones,
And dusty wind,
High price it has been paid;
Now sadness falls,
And soaks the sands,
Under which you are bare laid.
So sleep my kin,
No more dry wind,
Nor desert seas will call;
Rest now in peace,
'neath golden dunes,
For life it ends for all.Edited by Rev Rielle on July 3, 2017 9:44AMIf you can be anything, be kind.2 -
Rev Rielle✭✭✭✭✭
✭*A poem that can sometimes be heard recited by the local bard on rowdy nights at The Screaming Mermaid in Port Hunding*
I'd run out of capons so in went some boar.
I pinched in some salt and then poured in some more.
'Twas all out of wheat so in went mushrooms whole,
with bile and fat all mixed up in the bowl.
Next on the list; "add grapes now with a grin".
But which type I think, I've three that could go in!
Last on the page was a simple green herb,
So I threw in some wormwood feeling quite superb.
"Oh this cooking's not hard" I mused chuffed at myself,
And I twirled as I mixed, nimble as a wood-elf.
But just as I placed my bowl down on the bench,
The owner yelled out, "What the hell is that Stench?!"
And the horror as this new aroma arose,
as it watered my eyes and it infused my nose.
So I tore around looking in cupboard and sink,
all about for the impressive pungent foul stink.
Till the owner came charging in, out from the bar,
More bull-like than man knocking ladle and jar.
Till he reached my bowl sitting on the bench alone,
And out the window he hurled it like a stone.
Then he roared "Zeht's tears! What went into that stew?"
"And I won't even ask what you mixed in that brew."
"The Jackals smell it and they're howling outside,"
"I've a mind to tan you and then throw them your hide!"
Then he shoved me and spat "Go on, get out of here!"
As I groped for my sack in a sprinkling of fear.
And then sure as the Alik'r sand burns ones feet,
I was out on my rear in the Stros M'Kai heat.
So I picked up myself and my sack and I fled,
Through the hot sandy streets with face redder than red.
Dodging jackal and wolf I went straight for the docks,
As they nipped at my heels; how I wished I'd wore socks!
Ever since I've been barred from The Screaming Mermaid,
And all over Port Hunding they now know my name,
As the one who went off to cook with her cook-pack,
But instead brought along her own alchemist's sack.Edited by Rev Rielle on January 29, 2024 6:57AMIf you can be anything, be kind.5 -
maocukoSoul ShrivenIt's a very nice verse, thank you very much. And i hope that ChrisGoesAFK question will be answered:)2 -
Rev Rielle✭✭✭✭✭
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Thanks! And yes, I will right nowIt's a very nice verse, thank you very much. And i hope that ChrisGoesAFK question will be answered:)
Well I make them up as I go, when the inspiration hits. But hopefully, yes. I'm playing about with another one at the moment, something a little different. We'll see if it eventuates into anything.ChrisGoesAFK wrote: »Please tell me you have more of these?
If you can be anything, be kind.1 -
Rev Rielle✭✭✭✭✭
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It's such mages can't theorise,
It does not reside in twinkling eyes
Nor touch nor smell nor cradled kiss
Yet it's magicka of it's own true bliss.
No words uttered to know it's there,
Through sands of time it grows and cares
Trust, respect, comfort gives bloom
A strength to pierce most any gloom.
Companions; kin; the truest friends,
From now until the very ends
No more the roads you'll walk alone
With them you'll always be at home.Edited by Rev Rielle on July 3, 2017 8:10AMIf you can be anything, be kind.3 -
Rev Rielle✭✭✭✭✭
✭*A redguard's quiet word spoken the eve before battle*Perhaps it will be my time
Scattered like sands by the storm.
To be left behind as the tide rescinds
Tomorrow, after sunrise.
Perhaps the land will come to meet
The sweat and salt of hot-flushed cheek.
Grit and grains oppress on skin
Tomorrow, after sunrise.
Perhaps I'll rest on sun-baked bed
As wind-blown dunes tuck-in honoured dead.
Soon to be lost from sight
Tomorrow, after sunrise.
If so I hope comfort befriends me
And to Far Shores, Tu'whucca beckons.
Devoured and reborn
Tomorrow, after sunrise.
Edited by Rev Rielle on July 3, 2017 8:13AMIf you can be anything, be kind.4 -
Rev Rielle✭✭✭✭✭
✭*Overheard mumblings of a soul shriven in Coldharbour*
In this abyss where does one go?
On and on, now cleft of whole
Diminishing, gravitating, spiraling out of control
It takes me away, takes me down, it takes its toll.
Where is the warmth to guide home?
Out of the blackness, illuminating the cold
The somberness bends, I’m snared in the folds
I descend through emptiness, bereft of soul.
*****
As I’m torn apart I contemplate
The coldharbour echos beholding fickle fate;
No peace, no simple serenity
As reality lets slip; no placidity.Edited by Rev Rielle on July 3, 2017 8:09AMIf you can be anything, be kind.3 -
These are really quite beautiful, ill have to keep tabs to see what all else you give us.1 -
Rev Rielle✭✭✭✭✭
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I know the world is ending,
and one day I will fight back.
But for now I've gone a casting line,
with Grayol, and with Rac.
Edited by Rev Rielle on July 3, 2017 8:04AMIf you can be anything, be kind.3 -
Rev Rielle✭✭✭✭✭
✭*A loose page found in a book in Craglorn. Scribed mostly likely by a Scaled Court hand.*
~ The Fall of Craglorn ~
You witness spirits stirring,
across your eyes
You feel three constellations,
fall from the skies
You see the scaled minions,
offer up flesh
You hear the stars all wail,
they start to thresh.
At the edges of your vision,
where shadows meet
You embrace the serpent coiled,
around your feet
You soak in seething lust as,
it breaks your skin
You perceive beyond the veil,
as fangs sink in.
You bask in liberation,
with an opened mind
You cradle in the darkness,
when you look inside
You dismiss all thoughts of warmth that,
the old ways bring
You observe mantikora,
as lamia sing.
You sense a new awakening,
as the tide turns
You welcome screaming solace,
as Craglorn burns
You see the serpent consume,
before your sight
You welcome as last stars fade;
the endless night.Edited by Rev Rielle on July 3, 2017 7:52AMIf you can be anything, be kind.6 -
Rev Rielle✭✭✭✭✭
✭It seems long ago now. Though I suppose it's not quite so in reality; the day the sky opened up and great chains fell out of it. We did not know what it was then, rather just a terror from beyond that suddenly materialised and dug into the sand like a duneripper. Neighbour, friend and family alike were struck down by the creatures that spewed forth that day.
My name is Reverielle af-Tahar, and on a warm day in the middle of my village's bazaar a dark anchor from Coldharbour landed.
I love the sands, the sun, and the stars of home, the Alik'r Desert. To many it is an oppressive place where the heat and dryness are known to sap the endurance from even the most hardy of adventurer. But for me and my family, for my kin, my Ra Gada, it is home. Aswala Stables was a very small village, often overlooked by travelers on the trade route from Sentinel to Bergama or Kozanset. But we were happy with our lot. We were content. We shared our home with our famed Yokudan Charger. My family - as do many others there - tended to them daily. We would often house them inside with us for a time when the heat was especially relentless, or when the sandstorms especially strong. We would groom and platt their manes as if the coarse hair be upon our own head. They are as but our children and we loved them dearly.
The day the anchor fell many children were slaughtered.
My family are Forebears, but we still hold to many traditions of our ancestors. One of which is the teaching to all Redguard how to pull a blade in Onsi's name, and to dance & sword-sing with one in Leki's. Often we would train under my father and uncle's tutelage. All the children of the village together. Teaching us all the ways of the blade. It's philosophy. Come nightfall we would often listen to recitals from Frandar Hunding's 'The Book of Circles' and practice our stances. Critiquing our form against the shadows cast upon our home's stone walls. With two blades, with one, with a blade and a shield. Sometimes with the staff for a laugh. Sometime with a broom, when mother was not watching.
A few that day stood against the seemingly endless horrors coming out of the sky. My kin drenched themselves in honour before their final journey to Tu'whucca's Far Shore. They died true Redguards all. Giving, so many of us may yet live.
We - my sister, brother and I - had always planned on leaving our home: To prove ourselves. Our Ra Gada rite of passage. Our walkabout. The great evil from the sky brought that day closer, and with dreadful cost. So, with the heat of desert's flame and brightness of sun's flare I go now. I travel to aid where I can. No longer a stable-girl, no longer a farm-hand. A life of purest placidity torn to shreds by the claws of daedra and abhorrence of cultists. With Ruptga's blessing I will pry out the Dark Anchors from the land, like a sand-tick from the nape of the neck.
Perhaps this was Tall Papa's plan for me all along? I know not. We like to think we choose our own paths. I pray regardless I have their blessing on my walkabout, and that I may one day return home.
I do plan to, one day. When the Anchors are gone from Tamriel.
Edited by Rev Rielle on July 3, 2017 7:49AMIf you can be anything, be kind.3 -
menedhyn✭✭✭✭✭
✭Absolutely love this. Everything that went before too, but this last post especially. I find succinct, first-person narratives like this as a way to introduce people to your character much more appealing and accessible.2 -
Rev Rielle✭✭✭✭✭
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Thank you, and yes I like them too. I read through you stories for fey-vetha'a; they are great. We're quite similar in our style. I really enjoy fiction embedded firmly in the world the character exists in. It's nice to see.Absolutely love this. Everything that went before too, but this last post especially. I find succinct, first-person narratives like this as a way to introduce people to your character much more appealing and accessible.
Thanks again.If you can be anything, be kind.0 -
Rev Rielle✭✭✭✭✭
✭“Ever since the problems at Aswala Stables, Sentinel had been my preferred place of respite. When not out on walkabout and sleeping on a bedroll, Rudabeh at the Sisters of the Sands Inn has always been kind enough to let me rest there. Even when the inn was full she allowed me to linger on a couch or in the corner on the floor. I was very grateful, and it felt like my home away from home.
This was until recently when a room became available. I jumped at the opportunity to have a more permanent residence. The room is relatively modest, it is quiet, clean and has been perfect for getting a feel for all the intricacies that come with home ownership. I’m trying to furnish it in the likeness of my parent’s home; soaked in Redguard-inspired furnishing with a splash of other cultures; a reflection of the friends I’ve been lucky enough to make on my walkabout thus far.
Zerdesht and Shabaga in the Inn’s kitchen are tutoring me with cooking, and often I’ll hear Taralqua’s singing from the common room waft under my door as I drift off at night. I feel lucky to have such a place and around such kin. With each passing day it is becoming less like a home away from home, and more like my proper home. Now if only I can get my sister’s sep adder ‘Harry’ to stop bringing in birds, all will be well…”
~Reverielle af-Tahar~
Edited by Rev Rielle on June 5, 2017 7:44AMIf you can be anything, be kind.4 -
Krist✭✭✭✭Very nice. Thank you for posting this.
"Krist the Lionheart? No. Lionheart was my dog" -Krist
"Darling, if looks were everything, I would be king of the world" -Luke
"That place, between day and night, that purple color just before dark, that is where you will find me"- Hughe1 -
Rev Rielle✭✭✭✭✭
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Sweet tales now long gone,
Just memories in failing eyes.
One last grasp into the past,
Halting the bony-handed truth.
Outside, trying to reach in.
Feel old weakness spreading,
Rift widens to the outer side.
The malice it starts creeping,
Shutters rupture, Nirn churns.
Inside out.
Royal blue; A final comfort.
The bedroll thrown, the night-light spilled.
The fabric frayed and all is overboard,
Drowning in a sea of memories.
Upside down.
Desperate now.
No foe just friend,
At the end.
The undertow provides release.
Deep breath.Edited by Rev Rielle on January 29, 2024 6:55AMIf you can be anything, be kind.3
