» Fri Apr 11, 2014 5:20 pm This is the story of a character I had planned, as I enjoy writing out extensive stories of past significant events of my characters to flesh them out proper. It is still work in progress, and I have written three chapters so far, and intend to write more to finish his story. Enjoy, and please do drop some feedback! It is very much appreciated.
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Chapter I: A tombstone, a bloodied figure and a dug up grave
It had been silent for some time now. It was difficult to tell just how long, as each second felt like agonizing hours. The soaking, young boy clutched an amulet in his two trembling hands, an amulet with the shape of a horn. Outside, the rain was pouring down, as it had been doing consecutively for the entire day. The gentle rain was tapping on the roof of the shack, the boy hadn't heard any other sound but the rain for several minutes, or was it hours?
Another drop descended from the roof of the shack onto the boy, it made little difference as he had already been exposed generously to the cruel weather. He slowly pushed himself up on his shaky legs. He needed to know. His father had told him to run and hide, and run and hide he did. With a series of slow, steady breaths, the young boy attempted to regain control of his sobbing body, succeeding only minorly. The shack door creaked open, but his father was no where to be seen. Pine trees that the boy had climbed in a number of times, the lake, which had always been generous with fish. Blood. The rain had obscured it somewhat, but it was definitely there. The boy gulped, clutched his amulet tighter, and pressed on. Where could he be?
Blood. A trail of it, leading from the lakeside house into the nearby pine forest. Had his father attempted to run? Or to draw whatever that was coming away? The boy held on to the latter. His father was no coward. The boy decided he wasn’t either, and pushed on into the forest. Was this his father’s blood? Or that of whatever that was coming? The boy dismissed the thought, he couldn't bear losing his father too.The forest was damp, yet protective from the rain, the large branches near safeguarding the boy from the relentless rain. The blood was easier to track here, and the boy sped up his pace, and before he knew it, he found himself deep in the forest. It was getting progressively darker - night was fast approaching, the boy knew he had to hurry, he could be in danger.
A groan. It was faint, but it was audible. Obscured by the heavy rain. Could this be his father? The boy darted off in the direction he thought he heard it coming from. Another groan, clearer this time, he knew he was getting closer. He looked around, he recognized this place, he hadn’t been here for many years.. The grave of his grandfather? Soon the boy found himself in a clearing. A tombstone, a bloodied figure and a dug up grave.
“Father!” The boy uttered as he darted towards the bloodied character, lying in a mixture of mud and blood, tightly clutching his gut.
“Boy..” the man started, coughing up blood as he attempted to speak. “Gah.. Don’t.. Worry about what you’re seeing, boy.” the man added weakly, wincing in pain - both in his heart and physically.
“It’s been dealt with, but at a cost I wasn’t ready to pay.. There’s no helping me, I’m done for I’m afraid. Y..You need to end it.” The man continued, a determined tone played his words, sobbing as he glanced with pity and hopelessness at his son. The boy was horror struck. What would he do without his father? Tears rolled down his cheeks, but one couldn't tell, the rain was merciless.
“I.. I can’t. Don’t ask that of me! I've never killed anything!” The boy cried back desperately.
The man pulled his son close, too weak to utter loud words at this point.
“I know it’s hard, nothing’s been easy since your mother passed, but at least I’d leave this world knowing I've a strong, brave son to carry on.. You’ll.. be fine.” The man replied, nodding firmly to his son as he reached down for the boy’s hand, clutching it, and the amulet, tightly.
“It’s almost time. Ahh, end it now… “ He said, his tone shaky, his body trembling.
“Do it now!” He demanded, using what power he had left into those words.
“A sad story, my friend. Truly.” The fat man opposite on the table said, raising his tankard in a toast.
“Putting your old man down cannot have been easy.” He continued, his voice grim, as was his expression. The other man on the table nodded a series of times, stroking an amulet the shape of a horn at his chest.
“No, it wasn’t.” He replied calmly, glancing emptily into the fireplace, seemingly completely lost in thought.
“Hrm.. You mentioned your grandfathers grave had been dug up.. What had happened to it?” The other man asked, narrowing his eyes at his drinking buddy.
“That, Esdrec, is a story for another time.” He replied softly, slowly averting his eyes from the flames, offering him a brief glance before pushing himself off the table.
“There’s work to be done.”
Chapter II: Stendarr Be With You
“Boy!” a firm and authoritative voice sounded, to no avail as the messy boy remained sleeping on the ground. The rain had stopped, and it had dried up to some extent. Sunshine seeped through the dense, damp forest and the threads the boy was wearing had long since dried in with the blood and mud from before.
“...Dead, brother… The boy.. His father?” the young lad could barely make out what they were saying. His head was a mess, what had happened?
“Boy!” the same voice as before sounded, followed by a violent shake. A soft groan was all that escaped the boy’s lips initially, as he slowly pushed himself up, glancing at the robed individual who had kneeled in front of him. He was reasonably old, yet by no means adolescent. Short brown hair graced his scalp, matched by a goatee at his chin. A silver mace hung at his belt, together with a book in chains, in league with various other trinkets and packs.
“W..Who are you?” The boy asked carefully, studying the three man group, all dressed similarly.
“I am Thalen Scerius, these are my brothers of the Vigil - Sodril Nedalor and Mecius Acicius.” the robed man replied, as his focused, dark blue eyes studied the shaky, young lad.
“Is that your father?” he continued, a grim expression upon his face, his tone unchanged from before as he gestured to the corpse behind himself. Tears were being fought desperately, Thalen could tell as his eyes scanned the lad. A simple nod was all the boy could conjure as his glance passed by the robed man, and towards his father who were being studied by his robed companions. Soon, one of them came over. Could he help his father? Could he be revived? The boy knew the healing prowess of these men, at least he hoped he did. Perhaps there was hope for his father?
This one had red eyes, red hair styled into a short mohawk, and grey skin. He appeared stern, if not the definition of it.
“You are followers of Stendarr? What I presume to be your father had an amulet.” the dunmer glanced down at the boy with his inquisitive eyes, yet his tone was pleasant enough.
“Can you save my father?!” The boy blurted out, changing his glance between Thalen and the dunmer, desperation and tears in his eyes.
“No, your father is dead.” The dunmer replied simply, coldly.
“Answer my question.” he added, folding his arms across his chest.
“Y..Yes” The boy replied, tears rolling down his cheeks as his eyes hit the ground.
“Then, the god of mercy and compassion has brought us here intentionally. There is nothing we can do for your father, boy, but we can help you.” Thalen put in swiftly before his dunmer companion could ask further. The third of the group, an imperial, like Thalen, approached the youngling too.
“We’ll bury your father, and give him a proper ceremony.” He said.
“My condolences.” he added, before heading back towards the corpse. “And then, you’ll come with us. We’ll take care of you.” Thalen said, smiling towards the boy, placing a hand upon his shoulder, offering him a firm, friendly shake.
“Come to us, Stendarr, for without you, we might be deaf to the manswarm murmurings of thy people, and forgetting their need for comfort and wisdom, we might indulge ourselves in vain scribblings.” The three man group versed. The body had been buried, the evening was around the corner and the dark forest had donned a similar gloominess as before. Silence was all that followed the verse, respectfully so. On top of the grave, an amulet with the shape of a horn had been placed. “Stendarr be with you.”
“Ahh, so that’s how you came to know them vigil boys, then!” Esdrec said, emptying what was left of his half empty mug, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he sighed.
“At least your old man had a worthy burial. They’re good lads, if not just a tiny bit zealous.” Esdrec added as he loosened his belt, his belly fat being introduced to the edge of the table.
“That he did. The Cyrodiil chapter is like a family to me. Thalen, Sodril and Mecius in particular.” He replied, tilting his head at the fat on the table, before taking a swig from his own tankard.
“Sodril and Mecius, those were the two companions of Thalen, right?” the inflated man asked as he started on his second tankard, he always ordered a few at once. His drinking buddy nodded a series of times
“That’s them, yes.”
Chapter III: Path To the Faith
Masser and secunda ruled the night sky. It was a warm night, a gentle breeze introducing itself to the tall trees every so often - the leaves rustling gently, and the trees swaying softly. A pleasant night, as opposed to the day before. Yet, the young character tagging alongside the three vigilants did not seem any more cheerful than the past day. Even still, he would sob quietly as he dragged his feet into another step along the dirt path which cut through the forest.
“The boy has been weeping for an entire day. I grow weary of it.” the grey skinned vigilant declared quietly to Thalen as the group travelled onwards on the dirt road. Nedalor’s stern, red eyes did not avert from the dense nature surrounding the group, the mer ever vigilant.
“Have a heart, Sodril. His entire family is likely dead. We must look after him. Stendarr meant for us to find this boy - I am certain of it.” The imperial replied back, his tone firm and authoritative, yet soft to avert their new young comrade of the discussion. The man was certain of himself. The mer merely shook his head ever so slightly, shooting Thalen a brief, disagreeing glance.
“Whatever you say, Thalen.” The dunmer did not sound so sure.
Mecius had been keeping rearguard for the group so far, whilst Thalen and Sodril held up the front. A sobbing figure remained in the middle, who had been left to his own for the majority of the journey thus far.
“How you holding up, my young friend?” It was Mecius who spoke, addressing the boy with a soothing tone and a friendly smile, soon appearing next to the young character, walking beside him.
Two tear filled, brown eyes soon glanced up at Mecius’ towering figure. The imperial had a fierce look about him, yet without appearing in the slightest uncivilized. On his back, a massive claymore hung, which didn’t make Acicius appear any less daunting. After snuffling a series of times, the boy uttered words for the first time since they began their journey.
“Ah.. I’m.. I’m fine. I will be fine, I mean.” His voice was hoarse and unsteady, courtesy of hours of weeping. Mecius offered the now vocal boy a firm nod.
“Sure you will. We’ll make sure of that!” The towering man uttered. Acicius was a man with presence to be sure, lightening the mood of any man, woman or child graced by his words.
“I don’t know whether Thalen told you or not, but the name’s Acicius. You?”
“My name is--”
“NOW! GET THEM!”
Sprinting from beyond the dark trees of the night, half a dozen highwaymen soon appeared around them, shaggy, rusted weapons drawn on their part - their armor in similar condition. Athelies swiftly hid behind Acicius’ massive frame, who unsheathed his imposing silver claymore from his back dramatically, piercing the ground with it as he glared at the approaching thieves.
“Travellers. Friends. Comrades. I am called Vase, for reasons you need not concern yourselves with - trust me on this. We have ourselves a little predicament here, do we not?” This one was a Bosmer, as if his height didn’t give it away, his squeaky voice sure did.
“A little one indeed. Choose your next words carefully, Bosmer, or they may be the last ones you utter on this plane of existence.” Sodril swiftly replied, his stern eyes settling upon the Bosmer - if looks could kill. The dunmer firmly rested his right hand around the hilt of his blade, still sheathed.
“Such cruel words! Unheard of, right boys?” The bosmer looked around at his thugs. One or two may have nodded. “Yet, no one shall ever say that Vase is unkind. All that I need you robed men to do, is pay me a fee of say.. three hundred gold, and I shall let you all pass! Unharmed!”
Sodril did not appear at all amused, yet it was Thalen who swiftly broke further words.
“You make demands of the wrong men. We are vigilants of Stendarr, and we are not threatened by common bandits.” As before, Thalen was as authoritative in his tone as ever. A couple of the robbers exchanged looks, noticeably having second thoughts on robbing men who face off against the four abominations. A few of them even stepped back.
“I suggest you make your escape now, ‘Vase’, prior to your thugs doing so.” Nedalor said calmly. By the looks of it, his patience had just about run out at this point.
“Nobody tells Vase what to do, dark elf!” The bosmer was furious, shouting back at the vigilants.
“Indeed, you’re right. Nobody tells any vase what to do. They are usually pushed over, and -broken-” his reply was quick, and his silver longsword was unsheathed with these words.
“Y..Y...You can’t talk like that to me! We outnumber you! We-” before he could even finish his sentence, two of the thugs had started legging it. The rest of the bandit group glanced at one another, dumbfounded.
“We still outnumber you! We’re four! You’re only three!” All of a sudden, the Bosmer’s voice was approaching shaky.
“Vase is a stupid name anyway!” One of the highwayman promptly declared before scooting off into the forest. Then another one followed, and another after that. Very soon, there was only Vase.
“Fine! I shall deal with you myself!” the seemingly mad Bosmer declared as he lunged at Sodril clumsily with his glorified, rusty shank. Vase employed no manner of skill to his attack. Wielding his longsword with two hands, the dunmer easily parried the attack, disarming the smaller mer in an instant by the sheer force of his single defensive outmaneuvering, of which also set the Bosmer off balance. Vase eventually tripped to the ground, crawling away from the group.
Glancing at the robed group with an expression of utter terror, Vase soon found himself back on his feet and legging it back into the forest.
“Damn you, unkind knaves!” Could be heard from the Bosmer, but not before he had dived deep into the forest, far out of their reach.
“Scum.” The dunmer said as his silver blade was sheathed back into its scabbard at his belt.
“Indeed..” Thalen concurred, shaking his head slightly in disbelief of the half witted Bosmer.
“Who calls themselves ‘Vase’ anyway?” Acicius asked, though likely rhetorically, as no one could truly answer that question.
“We should keep moving. We still have a distance to travel.” The group did not object to Thalen’s suggestion, and soon the group found themselves travelling the dirt path once more.
“Athelies Mathredus.” A young voice eventually uttered.
“What?” Replied Mecius, glancing down at the boy next to himself.
“My name is Athelies Mathredus.”
“I see! So your name wasn’t unknown to them forever, then!” Esdrec leant forward in his chair, which creaked in agony as the inflated man planted his elbows onto the messy wooden table. A generous row of tankards flanked the big man on either side as he glanced at his companion, who could not boast of any sort of tankards. Today, Athelies did not care for alcohol.
“Indeed. During our travels to the chapter house I learned much about those three. After their mere presence had frightened off a band of brigands, and Sodril sent Vase running off by a matter of seconds, I couldn’t help but feel.. Protected, and that I could trust them.” Mathredus gaze was fixed on the crackling fire of the calm evening tavern. It would’ve almost been too hot inside, had it not been for the gentle breeze rolling in from a few opened windows.
“And did you make it? To the chapter house?” Esdrec inquired, whilst helping himself to yet another tankard.
“That, we did.” He replied, his eyes not averting the fire.
