Hey everyone, here's a story I wrote about my newest character's adventures. I also posted this to Reddit. Hopefully that doesn't break any rules, I just mean to join the Skyrim community. This is all from my mobile so I apologize if it's a formatting disaster.
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Enter Ildrdar Niveben, a Dunmer refugee. The air is cold and humid, very taxing on our hero.
"Where's that damned cat?" I thought to myself. He ought to have been in position an hour ago, and I could see dark, heavy clouds rolling in. At least it had given me time to steep a concoction. Among the ingredients were hagraven feathers and a handful of coarse grass pods that I uprooted out of boredom while waiting. The poison would make my foes more susceptible to J'zargo's lightning spells, but I was beginning to think the storm would beat him.
Dipping my arrows into the brew, I looked over the valley below me. J'zargo and I had been making our way through the southern mountains of the Reach when we came to a cliff. It hung over a Forsworn camp and a river. "A dead end, perhaps we should turn around, to someplace warm."
"A dead end, Ha! Is it not so that Khajit are famous for landing gracefully?"
"Well, yes, but-"
"Thanks for volunteering"
"This khajit would rather fight a dragon than-"
"But you won't." I reminded him, "You always leave me the honor, in typical khajit fashion."
He swiped at me with a hiss, and after a short scuffle J'zargo stood on the cliff's edge.
Dryly, I told him to reclaim his people's honor. Oh, what a snarl he gave me before he leaped into the water. He dove with all the grace one would expect of a khajit, barely a splash was made. I was only teasing him earlier. We share a mutual respect, you see. However, my descent was more self-motivated, to say the least.
Easing my way down the cliff face, I take note of how slick and jagged it is. Thank Azura I'd beaten the rain. Finally my feet come to a small ledge, an alcove from which I can see the camp in its entirety.
There were about six savages in total. One was a woman with various shrunken heads and charms hanging from what little clothes she wore. Another had skin similar to mine, a pale blue/grayish complexion. However, I was a Dunmer and he was something I'd only heard about, a briarheart.
Long ago, I promised myself never to resort to such a vile and barbaric practice as necromancy. I'd seen enough men back in Morrowind become consumed by the dark arts. The College's views on necromancy disgust me. Conjuration students are told to practice alone, in an effort to keep people out of harm's way. Isolation is the worst possible advice. Silence lets dark thoughts creep in easily, like the tides when Masser hangs low in the sky.
Sorry for the rant, I'm only cross because the rain has started coming down. It's pouring down in cold drops that send a shiver down my spine. A brilliant flash lights up the sky in my corner vision. It is followed by a thunderous boom that makes me flinch. It reminds me of Helgen.
...
Ah, there he is. Down by the river I see J'zargo placing runes. We'd rehearsed this tactic dozens of times. J'zargo hasn't mastered the expert level Destruction spells yet, but he was a very powerful mage, especially for a Khajit. I was a healer by trade back in Mournhold. Before I came to the College, some questioned if Restoration was a valid school of magic.
J'zargo gives me the signal, letting me know his magicka pool is recharged. I look to the briarheart, but his heart is too small a target for me at this distance. Instead I loose an arrow towards the witch. It whistles through the air before sinking into her collarbone. The ambush has begun.
The savage drops to her knees, coughing and spewing blood. She cackled and laughed all the while, which disturbed me. Her hands shine as she struggled to heal herself, but J'zargo unleashes an arc of energy that designates her. Splendid, now her allies can't revive her. That doesn't stop the next two from charging madly straight towards J'zargo. I loose another arrow but to no avail. Worry not, for I have another nocked right away. I pull the drawstring back as they trigger the rune J'zargo placed. The two men are violently thrown to the side, and J'zargo sprints past them. One makes an effort to stand up, his skin visibly singed. I send an arrow his way. He sits back down.
The remaining Forsworn still haven't noticed me. J'zargo's magic is always an excellent distraction. The purple bolts dance through the rain, which is falling down in heavy drops that pick apart the earth. A savage with a deerskin helm runs near the mountain, in an effort to flank J'zargo.
As he passes under me I swoop down on him. We trade a couple strong punches before I decide enough is enough. Holding him down in the mud, I reach back for an arrow. He takes hold of my arm and unleashed a surge of fire. I can feel his hand burning, sinking deep into my skin when I slam my fist on his face, jamming an arrow into his eye. I take a moment to heal myself, and except for the rain and thunder, the camp is strangely silent.
Just as I begin to worry, J'zargo sprints past me, "No time to explain!" he shouts. We take off further into the camp with two briarhearts in hot pursuit. We pass under an archway, where a pair of hagravens burst out of a tent, joining the chase. J'zargo head to the right, leading us up a stairway that was carved from the mountain.
At the top we rush to the end of an aqueduct. It hangs over a waterfall and I see jagged rocks at the bottom. "Gah! Another dead end!" J'zargo says as he plants some runes to impede the progress of our entourage.
"It's no use!" I shout. The storm is directly overhead now, it looks as if the sky has burst open. Again I'm reminded of Helgen, where I was saved from execution by a dragon's timing. Alduin had torn open the sky. Raining fire and death, as if Oblivion's gates had opened again.
The briarhearts draw closer, J'zargo unleashes a flurry of destructive magic at them, blasting one apart. I send my last arrow crashing into his chest, destroying the false heart. He drops like a sack of potatoes, his momentum sends him off the edge, into the rocks below.
I had no arrows and J'zargo was drained of his magicka. There we were, defenseless on a ledge about 200 paces up in the air.The hagravens were about to hurl a volley of fireballs at us when they're turned to ash by a massive bolt of lightning from the sky. The energy in the air gives me goosebumps, and J'zargo's fur is fluffed up like a kitten.
This was no time for celebration though, because two dragons came roaring over the mountains where the dark clouds had been. One circled overhead, the other landed where the hagravens once stood. I realized the whole storm was a shout in the dragon language. It was like what Alduin destroyed Helgen with, but lightning instead of fire.
"So...would you rather jump or fight two dragons, J'zargo?"
"Look, the next time I say, "Let's go someplace warm," let's GO someplace warm"
"Ha! That's only if we survive today, you fool!"
END
I'm open to any criticism, especially on which tense to use. I feel my wording near the end was awkward, and I'll will work on being more descriptive.
Hey everyone, here's a story I wrote about my newest character's adventures. I also posted this to Reddit. Hopefully that doesn't break any rules, I just mean to join the Skyrim community. This is all from my mobile so I apologize if it's a formatting disaster.
----------
Enter Ildrdar Niveben, a Dunmer refugee. The air is cold and humid, very taxing on our hero.
"Where's that damned cat?" I thought to myself. He ought to have been in position an hour ago, and I could see dark, heavy clouds rolling in. At least it had given me time to steep a concoction. Among the ingredients were hagraven feathers and a handful of coarse grass pods that I uprooted out of boredom while waiting. The poison would make my foes more susceptible to J'zargo's lightning spells, but I was beginning to think the storm would beat him.
Dipping my arrows into the brew, I looked over the valley below me. J'zargo and I had been making our way through the southern mountains of the Reach when we came to a cliff. It hung over a Forsworn camp and a river. "A dead end, perhaps we should turn around, to someplace warm."
"A dead end, Ha! Is it not so that Khajit are famous for landing gracefully?"
"Well, yes, but-"
"Thanks for volunteering"
"This khajit would rather fight a dragon than-"
"But you won't." I reminded him, "You always leave me the honor, in typical khajit fashion."
He swiped at me with a hiss, and after a short scuffle J'zargo stood on the cliff's edge.
Dryly, I told him to reclaim his people's honor. Oh, what a snarl he gave me before he leaped into the water. He dove with all the grace one would expect of a khajit, barely a splash was made. I was only teasing him earlier. We share a mutual respect, you see. However, my descent was more self-motivated, to say the least.
Easing my way down the cliff face, I take note of how slick and jagged it is. Thank Azura I'd beaten the rain. Finally my feet come to a small ledge, an alcove from which I can see the camp in its entirety.
There were about six savages in total. One was a woman with various shrunken heads and charms hanging from what little clothes she wore. Another had skin similar to mine, a pale blue/grayish complexion. However, I was a Dunmer and he was something I'd only heard about, a briarheart.
Long ago, I promised myself never to resort to such a vile and barbaric practice as necromancy. I'd seen enough men back in Morrowind become consumed by the dark arts. The College's views on necromancy disgust me. Conjuration students are told to practice alone, in an effort to keep people out of harm's way. Isolation is the worst possible advice. Silence lets dark thoughts creep in easily, like the tides when Masser hangs low in the sky.
Sorry for the rant, I'm only cross because the rain has started coming down. It's pouring down in cold drops that send a shiver down my spine. A brilliant flash lights up the sky in my corner vision. It is followed by a thunderous boom that makes me flinch. It reminds me of Helgen.
...
Ah, there he is. Down by the river I see J'zargo placing runes. We'd rehearsed this tactic dozens of times. J'zargo hasn't mastered the expert level Destruction spells yet, but he was a very powerful mage, especially for a Khajit. I was a healer by trade back in Mournhold. Before I came to the College, some questioned if Restoration was a valid school of magic.
J'zargo gives me the signal, letting me know his magicka pool is recharged. I look to the briarheart, but his heart is too small a target for me at this distance. Instead I loose an arrow towards the witch. It whistles through the air before sinking into her collarbone. The ambush has begun.
The savage drops to her knees, coughing and spewing blood. She cackled and laughed all the while, which disturbed me. Her hands shine as she struggled to heal herself, but J'zargo unleashes an arc of energy that designates her. Splendid, now her allies can't revive her. That doesn't stop the next two from charging madly straight towards J'zargo. I loose another arrow but to no avail. Worry not, for I have another nocked right away. I pull the drawstring back as they trigger the rune J'zargo placed. The two men are violently thrown to the side, and J'zargo sprints past them. One makes an effort to stand up, his skin visibly singed. I send an arrow his way. He sits back down.
The remaining Forsworn still haven't noticed me. J'zargo's magic is always an excellent distraction. The purple bolts dance through the rain, which is falling down in heavy drops that pick apart the earth. A savage with a deerskin helm runs near the mountain, in an effort to flank J'zargo.
As he passes under me I swoop down on him. We trade a couple strong punches before I decide enough is enough. Holding him down in the mud, I reach back for an arrow. He takes hold of my arm and unleashed a surge of fire. I can feel his hand burning, sinking deep into my skin when I slam my fist on his face, jamming an arrow into his eye. I take a moment to heal myself, and except for the rain and thunder, the camp is strangely silent.
Just as I begin to worry, J'zargo sprints past me, "No time to explain!" he shouts. We take off further into the camp with two briarhearts in hot pursuit. We pass under an archway, where a pair of hagravens burst out of a tent, joining the chase. J'zargo head to the right, leading us up a stairway that was carved from the mountain.
At the top we rush to the end of an aqueduct. It hangs over a waterfall and I see jagged rocks at the bottom. "Gah! Another dead end!" J'zargo says as he plants some runes to impede the progress of our entourage.
"It's no use!" I shout. The storm is directly overhead now, it looks as if the sky has burst open. Again I'm reminded of Helgen, where I was saved from execution by a dragon's timing. Alduin had torn open the sky. Raining fire and death, as if Oblivion's gates had opened again.
The briarhearts draw closer, J'zargo unleashes a flurry of destructive magic at them, blasting one apart. I send my last arrow crashing into his chest, destroying the false heart. He drops like a sack of potatoes, his momentum sends him off the edge, into the rocks below.
I had no arrows and J'zargo was drained of his magicka. There we were, defenseless on a ledge about 200 paces up in the air.The hagravens were about to hurl a volley of fireballs at us when they're turned to ash by a massive bolt of lightning from the sky. The energy in the air gives me goosebumps, and J'zargo's fur is fluffed up like a kitten.
This was no time for celebration though, because two dragons came roaring over the mountains where the dark clouds had been. One circled overhead, the other landed where the hagravens once stood. I realized the whole storm was a shout in the dragon language. It was like what Alduin destroyed Helgen with, but lightning instead of fire.
"So...would you rather jump or fight two dragons, J'zargo?"
"Look, the next time I say, "Let's go someplace warm," let's GO someplace warm"
"Ha! That's only if we survive today, you fool!"
END
I'm open to any criticism, especially on which tense to use. I feel my wording near the end was awkward, and I'll will work on being more descriptive.
