A Light in the Dark
The warmth of the Elder Wood. Tavan knew this feeling well, always allowing the safety of home to blanket his mind and soul into a state of knowing he will be safe, but few years ago, the dreams had begun. Nightmares of such dark thoughts of rage and destruction Tavan would wake up in a cold, horrifying sweat and chills, unable to fall back asleep most nights. Nightmares of such violence Tavan would find himself unable to attend to everyday wares: archery work for his Jaqspur drillmaster, wartime drills he was distracted with the visions, having moments of meditation he once found peaceful. Nightmares so horrible his Bosmer brothers and sisters of the wood seemed distant and so foreign he would feel the warmth of home begin to slip away. He must stop these nightmares. He had to for his home…
It could go on no longer. The approaching war was nearly upon him, upon his people, and upon the wood. His home being threatened by an inner darkness, he knew the Wild Hunt would not sated by mere hopefully thoughts. Tavan knew of its power and also knew what came along with it, he had seen it in his dreams. Blood filled carnage would ravage the land, nothing having a chance to stand in its way and nothing able to survive. He would see his fellow elves dive into a state of pure anarchy, a state of horrific judgement centered on protecting his homeland but the ends would never be able to justify the means in his mind. The images that burned into his brain would continue to bore so deep, they had felt like memories of ages past, reliving the Hunt as if he was there and present for the bloodlust that would redeem the Bosmer. Gifted in the magical arts, Tavan thought he would have a chance. The journey would be long and treacherous but nothing would keep him from doing nothing. Loved ones and his home are at stake and he must seek out the One of the Dark. He had to for his home...
Long had he put off his journey in fear of the harsh, deserted wastes of Hammerfell. Raiding parties had been rumored to wander the sands in search of chances to pillage and steal in order to survive. Equipped with his bow, Tavan had never been in such conditions. His eyes were blind from the windswept sands as he tried desperately to cover his face. The unbearable heat beating down upon his flesh without the protection of the safe haven of Valenwood's thick canopy to shelter him. Tavan took the long trek through the hopeless, barren lands of Hammerfell. He had to for his home…
Reaching the borders of High Rock, he knew he was close. Tavan had heard of stories of the war torn and razed city of Dragonstar, somewhere he had desired to avoid. He needed to reach his destination unscathed and could not afford distractions of war. Nimble enough to avoid the dangers of the desert, Tavan could not take the chance of putting himself in harms way, not after the miles and miles of desert hell he had crossed. Take the unmarked road west, Tavan could feel his soul being taken under a debilitating cloud un the unknown. He knew he was in the right place and it scared him down to his bones, but he could not turn back, he had to stay true to his goal. He had to for his home…
At last, he was there: Azra's Crossing. But he did not see what he wanted to find. The whole town, built around the Great Dark Depths as his brother had called it and told him during the late hours of the night, was deserted. A ghost town which in his mind was fitting for a grave. Stepping to the edge of the crater, he could not see the bottom. Endless darkness deeper than he could imagine, making his knees feel weak and eventually give out. He fell, using his hands to brace himself, breathing in the cool air giving him a sense of numbness like he had never felt before, losing his balance. His eyes felt heavy, his mind began to slip and his body felt weak. Flashes of home flew by in his head, but they were of memories he thought he had lost, ones that he thought he would never have back. A wash of relief covered his soul and he now knew he was in the right place. The shadow had taken him and his eyes had opened to see himself kneeling next to the crater. He was witnessing himself from somewhere … else. Stepping back in disbelief, he turned and saw him.
"Azra…"
<- (2. Art Symposium: Shadow Magic) - (4. Build: The Ceya-Tar) ->
Character: The Ceya-Tar
A Light in the Dark
The warmth of the Elder Wood. Tavan knew this feeling well, always allowing the safety of home to blanket his mind and soul into a state of knowing he will be safe, but few years ago, the dreams had begun. Nightmares of such dark thoughts of rage and destruction Tavan would wake up in a cold, horrifying sweat and chills, unable to fall back asleep most nights. Nightmares of such violence Tavan would find himself unable to attend to everyday wares: archery work for his Jaqspur drillmaster, wartime drills he was distracted with the visions, having moments of meditation he once found peaceful. Nightmares so horrible his Bosmer brothers and sisters of the wood seemed distant and so foreign he would feel the warmth of home begin to slip away. He must stop these nightmares. He had to for his home…
It could go on no longer. The approaching war was nearly upon him, upon his people, and upon the wood. His home being threatened by an inner darkness, he knew the Wild Hunt would not sated by mere hopefully thoughts. Tavan knew of its power and also knew what came along with it, he had seen it in his dreams. Blood filled carnage would ravage the land, nothing having a chance to stand in its way and nothing able to survive. He would see his fellow elves dive into a state of pure anarchy, a state of horrific judgement centered on protecting his homeland but the ends would never be able to justify the means in his mind. The images that burned into his brain would continue to bore so deep, they had felt like memories of ages past, reliving the Hunt as if he was there and present for the bloodlust that would redeem the Bosmer. Gifted in the magical arts, Tavan thought he would have a chance. The journey would be long and treacherous but nothing would keep him from doing nothing. Loved ones and his home are at stake and he must seek out the One of the Dark. He had to for his home...
Long had he put off his journey in fear of the harsh, deserted wastes of Hammerfell. Raiding parties had been rumored to wander the sands in search of chances to pillage and steal in order to survive. Equipped with his bow, Tavan had never been in such conditions. His eyes were blind from the windswept sands as he tried desperately to cover his face. The unbearable heat beating down upon his flesh without the protection of the safe haven of Valenwood's thick canopy to shelter him. Tavan took the long trek through the hopeless, barren lands of Hammerfell. He had to for his home…
Reaching the borders of High Rock, he knew he was close. Tavan had heard of stories of the war torn and razed city of Dragonstar, somewhere he had desired to avoid. He needed to reach his destination unscathed and could not afford distractions of war. Nimble enough to avoid the dangers of the desert, Tavan could not take the chance of putting himself in harms way, not after the miles and miles of desert hell he had crossed. Take the unmarked road west, Tavan could feel his soul being taken under a debilitating cloud un the unknown. He knew he was in the right place and it scared him down to his bones, but he could not turn back, he had to stay true to his goal. He had to for his home…
At last, he was there: Azra's Crossing. But he did not see what he wanted to find. The whole town, built around the Great Dark Depths as his brother had called it and told him during the late hours of the night, was deserted. A ghost town which in his mind was fitting for a grave. Stepping to the edge of the crater, he could not see the bottom. Endless darkness deeper than he could imagine, making his knees feel weak and eventually give out. He fell, using his hands to brace himself, breathing in the cool air giving him a sense of numbness like he had never felt before, losing his balance. His eyes felt heavy, his mind began to slip and his body felt weak. Flashes of home flew by in his head, but they were of memories he thought he had lost, ones that he thought he would never have back. A wash of relief covered his soul and he now knew he was in the right place. The shadow had taken him and his eyes had opened to see himself kneeling next to the crater. He was witnessing himself from somewhere … else. Stepping back in disbelief, he turned and saw him.
"Azra…"
<- (2. Art Symposium: Shadow Magic) - (4. Build: The Ceya-Tar) ->
Character: The Ceya-Tar
