A Tale of Deceit - Prologue

  • The night air is cool and there is a slight breeze that the many holes in the walls have let in. Above me, the stars peek through a gap where one of the planks that make up the roof has rotted away. The world around me is silent except for the occasion creak of old wood, which is good because the silence helps me remember – remember the words of my Master, the words that in my sleep many nights ago bid me travel to Skyrim.


    ‘Why?’ I had asked. It seems impertinent now (for who am I to question my Master?) but at the time my curiosity had bested me.


    I had waited for what felt like years as the fear that I had angered my Master spread throughout me. When the response finally came it was not one of words but that of a vision. Before my eyes, a sword made of the blackest night and stained in blood appeared.


    ‘Restore my Blade and use its power to sow treachery and deceit throughout Skyrim.’


    At the time, the vision seemed like all the instruction I would need. The moment I awoke, I gathered the few possessions I could call my own and departed from the temple I had served for the past thirty years of my life, without so much as a backwards glance. It took almost two weeks to reach my homeland’s western border with Skyrim. The whole time, my mind had been focused solely on the fact that my Master had chosen me over all her other faithful.


    Once across the border, I passed an old crumbling tower, in front of which lay a weathered book atop a stone pedestal. Out of curiosity I stopped to read the book. What I found was a decree in memory of those who had fled the Red Mountain’s Fury. I had been lucky enough to miss the eruption by some seventy years, but growing up I had seen the destruction it had done to the mainland, and it caused me to both pity and respect those who had made it this far.


    After returning the decree to its place on the pedestal I continued down the road. Nightfall was approaching when I came across what I would generously call the remains of a shack. Through the many holes that marked its walls, I could make out the shapes of what could only be bandits, for who else would choose to bed down within such a building?


    The bandits, it turned out, were little trouble as a couple of fury spells turned them against one another and all I had to do was watch as they killed each other. When there was only one left standing, I made my way towards the shack. The final bandit was a giant of a Nord. He straightened from where he had been leaning against a battered iron greatsword, and watched as I approached.


    He stared at me with a look that was a mixture of hatred and fear. I took a moment to study him and realised that it was mostly fear. Good; that meant he had realised what was behind the bloodshed, and that would make this easier.


    I stepped forward, smiling disarmingly at him. As I did so I let loose a calm spell and watched as his hands released the greatsword. Once I was entirely sure that the spell had taken effect, I drew the dagger that I kept at my side and walked towards the bandit. When I reached him I was forced to stand on the tips of my toes as I placed my free hand on the back of his head. With the other I slowly drew the blade across his throat. I released my hold and watched him crumple.


    Now I lie awake atop what I once would have called a bed inside the remains of the shack, having realised that I have no idea where the Blade may be. Part of me keeps saying that I should have asked my Master where I could find it, and many other parts keep telling me that she would have told me if she wanted to. Which just leaves me with one question:


    ‘Why didn’t she?’


    A moment passes and I realise that I had spoken the words aloud. I haven’t said a word since leaving the temple, so my own voice sounds strange to my ears. The absurdity of that mingles with the absurdity of my situation, a smile spreading across my face, followed by a gush of laughter. Fighting to regain my composure, I realise that there is a steady stream of tears running down my temples and into my hair. The realisation causes my laughter to burst forth again.


    It felt like forever until I was able to get myself back under control. Wiping the tears from my eyes I took several deep breaths to calm myself. Once I was satisfied that the laughter had stopped for the foreseeable future, I rose to my feet and headed towards what remained of the shack’s doorway. Stepping through the doorway, I could see that the sun was starting to rise and decided that there was little point to staying in the shack any longer. Perhaps some walking would help me think.


    I turned and stepped back into the shack to retrieve my belongings and then made my way down the steps to the roadside. As I stepped onto the road, I noticed the battered greatsword from the previous night and paused. It was still lying where the bandit had dropped it, as I could not be bothered to do anything about the corpses and their weapons. I walked over and bent to examine the sword more closely. There were a few nicks here and there on the blade and maybe a little rust as well, but all in all it wasn’t in too bad a shape.


    I brushed the snow from its length and then moved to its previous owner’s side to retrieve the sling he had been using to strap it to his back. It took longer the remove the sling then I had thought it would; being left out in the snow overnight had caused the knots in the leather to tighten. When I finally managed to free it from the corpse, I fitted it to myself. It was quite loose, as my body was a fair bit smaller than the Nord’s. I would need to either adjust it or acquire a new one, but for now it would have to do.


    With a little effort I managed to slide the greatsword into the sling, hoping I would be able to remove it when the time came to use it. Besides, I could always use my Illusion spells and dagger if necessary.


    With that in mind, I began to make my way further into Skyrim.


                 ~~ TOC ~~ Chapter 1


  • Sotek
    Sotek   ·  May 17, 2016
    I know about the Spear of Bitter Mercy, the Wabbathingy ermm Molag's mace/club type thing....
    With my astute knowledge maybe I should help out in the Lore section...
    Wonder what artefact this is leading towards.
  • Karver the Lorc
    Karver the Lorc   ·  May 17, 2016
    And there shall be backstabbing...
  • Will
    Will   ·  May 16, 2016
    I'm interested to see where this goes 
  • Lyall
    Lyall   ·  May 16, 2016
    I read "fury spells" as "furry spells".  Can't wait for part 2. I mean, Chapter 1. Whatever.
  • Golden Fool
    Golden Fool   ·  May 15, 2016
    Phil I'm going to claim that was all intentional  But then that's the beauty of interpretations. I'll try to keep it going in later chapters.
  • Paws
    Paws   ·  May 15, 2016
    Nice Golds, I really like the questioning going on here. I imagine the mystery of Mephala would be a constant test to her faithful and that is wonderfully realised here. To accept that you will always be at least a chapter behind The Webspinner but follow...  more
  • Golden Fool
    Golden Fool   ·  May 15, 2016
    Hmm I wonder what it could be 
    Thanks Lissette.
  • The Long-Chapper
    The Long-Chapper   ·  May 15, 2016
    I think I know what this one's looking for. A fine start. Looking forward to seeing where this leads, Goldie.