Fate/Sundered Moons Chapter 1-Of Bulls and Elves
Erik gasped as he awoke, springing out of bed. The farmer glancing at his hand, finding his Command Seals, forming the shape of hoe, much to his displeasure, emblazoned on his skin. Erikur’s ears and nostrils perked up as his senses detected the sound of water boiling, and the distinct smell of someone cooking in his great-grandmother Nadia’s old black cooking pot.
Blinking the rheum from his eyes, the farmboy glanced over, and found the white haired elven maiden before him. He racked his brainbox over her name, and eventually opened his mouth. “Tauriel?” he asked, using the name he recalled her calling before he had passed out and pissed himself.
The Altmer’s pointed ears perked up, and she turned her head to face Erik, her braid whipping back. She smiled warmly, “Oh, good morning Master, I made you some food.” she came over, bringing him the bowl of Horker Stew. “Did you sleep well?” she asked.
Erik took a spoonful of the food, and nodded slowly. “Yes, thanks.” he said, glancing once again at the brand on his hand. “Tauriel,” he clicked his tongue. “I’ve never heard of you.” he said, and flinched when she appeared to look offended. “I’m sorry, I didn’t me-” but was cut off as his Servant was holding her sides, laughing.
Her crystalline armor clinked at her movements, and after two minutes of pure guffawing, the Altmer cleared her throat, and composed herself. “Well, we Heroic Spirits can come from the distant past, yes?” Erik nodded, having read about it in his great-grandmother Nadia’s journal. She had been chosen during the last Divine Chalice War, during which she had been the Master for the Lancer Class, a hunter named Alrabeg. “Then you must know we can also come from the future, hmm?” the alabaster haired Mer took a seat, sitting back, leaning one arm casually across a nearby table.
“So, you’re from the future then?” Erik asked, as he finished off his stew. It rivaled that of his mother’s, and her mother’s, and well, you get the picture. Tauriel nodded her head eagerly, like one of those dunking bird toys his grandfather Ragnar had made for him. “How far in the future, if you don’t mind me asking?” The farmer asked, trying not to focus on the rather low neckline of her azure armor, and what lay beneath.
“Hmm, it’s the Fourth Era, year two-hundred and two, yes?” The Altmer Archer asked, receiving the thinking face of her Master, before an curt nod. “Wonderful. So I come from the Seventh Era, year four-hundred and twenty-four, so roughly three Eras and two-hundred and twenty-two years from now.” Erikur, like Elenwen’s jaw when she had met her ancestor Gailion of Stormhold, had his maxilla smack against his palm, to which Tauriel helpfully closed with her own hand. “Let me guess, you want to know what it’s like?” Erikur once more nodded, excited to hear tell of what the future would entail, even if it was unlikely he would get to see it. “Well, let me give you a brief summary…” With that, Tauriel cleared her throat.
“In my Era, the Dwemer have started to return, apparently they had been sent to an as of yet, unexplored pocket of Oblivion. Alongside this, technology has...progressed due to the Dwemer. Not to the extent we’re all riding in Dwemeri airships, but at least the various armies have air support now. That and prosthetics are a fair bit more functional than they are in this Era.” Tauriel listed off. “Oh, and firearms are a thing now.” she added.
Erik clicked his tongue. He had heard the word firearm before. It was then it clicked. He recalled a traveling weapons merchant once passing by, armed with what appeared to be twin crossbows in the Dwemeri style, each small enough to be wielded in either hand. The Dunmer had explained he had come across a schematic while scavenging a dwarven ruin that told of how to forge such, or at least a prototype. That had been almost twelve years ago. “I can’t believe it.” he muttered at last, rubbing his temples.
“I know it sounds insane, but its the truth.” Tauriel smiled. “Now, let me guess, you want to learn how I, the humble and sexy Tauriel Melnibone found herself a Heroic Spirit, no?” her smile grew into a slight smirk. The Master of Archer had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. Of all the Servants, HE had to get one with an ego the size of the Throat of the World. He cleared his throat, and simply nodded. His Servant might be a tad bit hyper, but still didn’t want to anger her. Hell hath no fury like a woman pissed, his father had once told him. “Well, I’ll give you the brief summary. I grew up reading about the heroes of ages past, the Eternal Champion who laid low Jagar Tharn, the Apprentice, who battled the armies of Mehrunes Dagon and the Ideal Masters to free the Battlespire, but most of all...him.” Tauriel whispered reverently. Erikur quirked an eyebrow. “He was a paladin from my hometown of Duskendale, or Dusk as its known as in this time. During the Great War, it was said Auriel blessed him and he in turn rallied the harrowed defenders of Crystal-Like Law, prior to its destruction and eventual reconstruction during the last few decades of the Fourth Era. His true name has sadly been lost in the annals of history, but we still know him as The Ivory Aquilla. And if his portraits are anything to go by, he’s quite attractive.” she licked her lips, purring, as her eyes glazed over. Luckily, before he lost her entirely to erotic thoughts, Erikur snapped his fingers in front of her face.
“Oh, I’m sorry Master, I got, um, distracted.” Tauriel blushed, wiping the thin drool from her mouth, and shaking her head. “Anyway, its because of heroes and heroines like them I took up my bow. It was during the Kamal Invasion of 7E 414 that I Lord Auri-El honored me with his Bow.” she ran a hand across the argent longbow, nuzzling it.
“You know, I never got that, why is it Mer have two different spellings for the same god’s name?” Erik asked her, curious.
“What do you mean? Both Man and even some Beasts do it too. You Nords have Alduin, whereas those who follow the Alessian pantheon have Akatosh, simple. It’s like how some people say potato, others say something like poh-tah-toe” Tauriel shrugged, sipping some Jazzberry Tea.
“Wait, Tauriel, you can’t be serious. For one, no sane man says pohtahtoe. Secondly, Alduin and Akatosh are NOT the same deity….” Erik said. For the next few hours, Master and Servant engaged in a theological and spudilogical debate.
Meanwhile, in the Jerall Mountains
Garrosh panted, his breath frosting as he and his Servant clambered up up another rocky outcropping, finally emerging onto the side of the mountain range where Skyrim lay. “Lord Mo-er, Morihaus,” The Orcish knight corrected. Morihaus had asked that, when in private or in the company of those considered allies or kin, there would be no formality between the two. Morihaus, even though he had been the ada and commander to the Paravant’s legions, he had still come to connect with them, learning each of their names, their wants, their hopes, and more. “We’ve arrived.” he said, gazing upon the tundraic vista before them.
Morihaus snorted in response, his nose ring swinging. “So we have indeed, noble Garrosh.” he clapped a toned hand atop one of Garrosh’s bronze pauldrons, causing the Orc to plant his feet firmly and to call upon the strength within him to resist getting knocked down, for such was the strength in Morihaus, even though his parameters as a Servant were lower than if he had been summoned, say, an Archer or Berserker. “You have a keen eye. If you had been born in my time, why, I might have you made a part of the scout corps.” he tapped his chin. “And, if my dear Alessia were willing, perhaps invited you to bed with us.” he grinned cheekily, causing the Orismer to turn his head, coughing. “Come, we have ascended this mountain, my Master. Now, we descend!” with that, the original Minotaur bounded off, laughing gaily. Garrosh sighed, and followed, though with more caution.
Little did the Master and Servant pair notice the black robed figure watching them from a shaded outcropping, nor did they see Lucien Lachance melding into the shadows, smiling ever so slightly.
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