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RealSwords WACSHOP • View topic - Vocha's Playground!

RealSwords WACSHOP





Post new topic Reply to topic  [ 19 posts ] 

Do you prefer stories in this project to contain more facts about the swords, or story around them?
Give me facts! I'm a sword afficionado! 0%  0%  [ 0 ]
Meh, I don't give a shite, reading is for nerds anyway... 0%  0%  [ 0 ]
I love a good story to add some soul behind the blade! 75%  75%  [ 3 ]
Give me the best of both worlds! Story and Facts... 25%  25%  [ 1 ]
Total votes : 4
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 Post subject: Vocha's Playground!
PostPosted: June 28th, 2007 
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Hi all! This is to be my little playground :)
You see I often get bitten by the writing bug, for instance;

- While writing a story for the Orc Chronicle I'll constantly think of cool things to write about in a Nord Chronicle.

- I'll imagine characters that I cannot possibly use in the current text.

So this will be the place I write down all those things and whatever stories I might conjure up because of them or the mood I'm in.

These stories/concepts are NOT assigned to any Chronicle and are NOT ordered by Waalx for the Chronicles of Steel.

I just write them for fun!

And although they contain "RealSwords" lore as well as TES lore and the titles suggest that they belong in a Chronicle they do NOT!

I write the titles as I would imagine them being placed in a Chronicle ('Chronicle - Chapter - Title' form) simply because I like too and because it gives them meaning to me.

I've also included a poll, for the fun of it and to answer a question about the Chronicles of Steel.

Criticism and comments are welcome, and please vote if you have an oppinion or just plain feel like it :)


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PostPosted: June 28th, 2007 
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Ok, so I wrote this today watching the rain and the beautiful art of Victoria Frances (Victoria Frances Art) you should check her out.

Also "Sorgens kammer" by Dimmu is a must :)

Edit: This is a very "goth" story, full of romance and somewhat morbid illusions, so I guess I should say 'reader caution' or whatever.


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Chronicles IX – Book 1 – Laloria

More than often have I endured hardship, walking in the blistering cold on the roads of Skyrim, walking over the sharp mountains of Windhelm to reach Blacklight. With soars all over my legs bathed in the cold salt and heated ash, falling from the teal skies.

I have run a marathon from Tear to Thorn with a score of Argonians, stopping only to swim in a lagoon of the eastern most sea (or was that when I was escaping the father of a beautiful Dunmer lady). I tell you; even rubbing Dragon’s tongue in the cuts left by the razor sharp shells there won’t help the pain.

But never have I seen such a gorgeous view as the one on the shores of Dusk on the Summerset Isle, the grains of sand white as the purest light, Domica Redworts grow here their seeds flown by the winds of time from the Valenwood mainland, making a crimson blanket flowing in the breeze to the symphony of sounds the shores produce. The peaks that shroud the sea line, black as obsidian and the skies are lilac with orange clouds in the evening.

While staring at that lilac sky I remembered the story of a woman unlike any I’ve ever encountered, and as I sat there sifting my fingers through that pale sand I reminisced about when I first heard it. For it is the reason I was in Dusk in the first place, you see it is rumored to be the place of her birth, not where she erupted from her mother’s womb and saw life for the first time mind you. But where she saw her second birth unfold, where she tasted the breath of life yet again, where she died and was reborn.

Victoria was her name, or used to be her name. Where she was actually born no one remembers exactly, but what they all agree on is that she was born of two races. Half Nord and half Redguard, her mother the most beautiful Nord woman in Falkreath indeed that was the only thing she was guilty of. Yet one day while crossing the mountains to Elinhir she was ambushed by three Redguard bandits, she never knew which one the father was, nor did she want to know, all she could think about when it came to the child was agony, and all she could do was cry.

After she could no longer conceal her ever growing stomach she fled south, some say she got lost in the Colovian highlands and died after giving birth in the thick forests there. Others claim she got as far as Bruma before she was taken in by a Breton woman there, and died giving birth in her basement. And that it is that woman whom gave the baby its name.

The child however was just as beauteous as her late mother, with the features of a Nord woman, hair as red as the Hearthfire sky and skin like that of the Ansei maidens.

This is where the story varies to a great extent, some say she was sent to the ashlands in Vvardenfell and grew up there, others claim she was raised in High Rock, so I will write down what I think is the most plausible of the variations.

When she was only seven the Breton woman that had adopted her by chance realized she could no longer provide for her and so she did the only thing she could do for her; she gave her up to the church. What became of her just after that is unknown, but it is said that a Redguard healer that had responsibility over the child was visited one night by a mer wearing a deep gray cloak. The mer offered to take the child off of the churches hands, so that she could be raised by people whom would care for her. He called himself simply an ambassador of the Old Ways.

The Redguard saw no lies in the eyes of the mer, and consulted Talos his patron in prayer. And so it happened that the young Victoria, now thirteen was brought into the Order of the PSJJJJ.
Victoria had no affinity for magic; neither did she possess any mer blood, but Victoria had something most people could only dream of, she inhabited the blood of a “Tongue”. And because of this she had been given eyes of foresight, she was an Oracle.

The Psijic new this, and they intended to shield her innocence from the world, so that she would use her sight for the good of Nirn. How tragic it was that their intent to shield her ended with her doom, you see ever since she was brought into the Psijic she was locked inn, taught how to block out the cries and agony of the people, taught to discard the hate and violence she saw in all and everything through her visions. She was shown how to tap into the essence of Aetherius instead, where she would see only beauty and hope. It was the only thing the Psijic could do for her, for a sight into the future sufferings of all was more a curse than a blessing. They could only lessen her torture by making her blind to it.

While blind to the world Victoria would walk the cliffs of Lillandril picking butterflies from the sky and rushing her hair through the grass that caressed the mountainside, but it was not true happiness. She would visit Sunhold and rub her lips against the ice sculptures the apprentice mages had created there, embracing them in the cold wind from the south until they melted from the warmth of her heart, yet it was not real. For her sight and senses had been clouded in a vile daze of lies.

When Victoria was nineteen she was tired of the everlasting truth and marvels of Aetherius, even what we can only dream of she discarded. She closed her mind to it, and chose to break from the boundaries of blissful ignorance. Her eyes opened to Tamriel and when her gaze of true sight showed her the future she could only see one thing. Love, it blinded her from all other things, suffering, pain, tragedy it was lost to her eyes.

She saw her future destined love, and her chest felt filled with a never-ending emotion of being complete. For the first time in her life she felt like she had a purpose, not only to drift forever in a coma.

The man she saw was an Altmer, his name is lost to history, but that is certainly not the case of his legacy and his appearance. Although it seems to vary depending on who tells the story, they all mention his long bleak hair, white as the moon, and his coveting bright blue eyes always staring deep into you, into your very heart.

About his legacy, this story will tell it by itself. The Altmer was a high ranking Psijic, nothing escaped his attention and his influence was that of water itself. It leaked through to everyone and everything it came in contact with. And so was also the truth when it came to poor Victoria, for she threw herself into the waterfall, it engulfing her head and heel. She could barely escape his prerogative to breathe and her love was the only thing that kept her warm and afloat in the torrential storm that was the white haired Altmer.

And indeed her love was so deep, it took over she lost her true sight and her spirit melded with his. Straying from his side for even a second caused her more pain than hot fire to her skin, and the Altmer knew this, and his intent and guilt eternal.

For he was eternal and he was a snake among men, his venom; love. This Altmer was cursed with the creation of Bal, a predator in the night, breeder of agony, but this particular vampire killed not with sharpened steel or fangs of lust. His crime was far more complex and never forgiving. He enticed his prey and ended it with its own love.

And so it was one fateful night, that the Altmer brought impeccable Victoria to the graveyard, candles in hand. She was faithful, loyal and understood not the concept of deceit. For in Aetherius, her everlasting dream she had seen no nightmares, she had never been taught of those that care only for themselves and their desires. She had not a care in the world, for her spirit was his and nothing but trusting.

When she stood watching the moon amidst the midnight clouds a wolf emerged from the bushes, it was a wolf unlike all others, white and adamant. It rubbed itself along the leg of the Altmer, and with a low growl it begged for food. Victoria was consumed by the beauty of the spotless stars and was in a transcendent state of mind, which was a trademark for her.

At that moment he jumped her, threw her against a large gravestone and asker her simply and in many voices if she loved him, Victoria could not think but to answer back, her heart beating like nothing but the pulsing light of the candles on the grave next to her.

Yes of course she loved him, how could she not, it was predestined and she had drowned in him before she even laid eyes on the Altmer. He grabbed her arm, and tore apart the dress covering it, in one fell sweep he grabbed the wolf with his other hand and pulled out one of its teeth. The wolf whimpered for a moment as he threw it to the ground.

The Altmer cut a deep wound in Victoria’s left arm; she cried, wailed but was paralyzed by confusion and the pain from the wound. The Altmer stabbed himself in the neck with the tooth, leaving a scarlet hole quickly turning black as his blood ran faster and thicker. He soaked his hand in it and drove it into her wound. She hulked, at that moment he drew a dagger from his robe, it was a dagger so cold, despite being kept close to his heart when he pushed it against Victoria’s skin it was colder than the water in Morning Star: she shuddered as it siphoned her skin of warmth.

The daggers blade was thin, as thin as a finger devoid of life, the hilt ornamental but without care laid into it, and of pure steel; the guard resembling two crooked horns.
His many voiced malevolence asked her again if she loved him, she was lost, dazed by the loss of blood and the distress of her situation. Her inner most emotions had betrayed her and she could do nothing but to rely on his, and answer him again, she was now flowing down the river of tears left by the flood that was the Altmer, unable to escape: unable to swim.

He spoke again, his voice slithered with the poison of his hatred, but this time he whispered; into her ear a stream of lies filling her mind with the void itself, pure unknown blackness.
He told her what to do: and how could she resist being with him forever, he gave her the dagger.
She brought it to her chest, blade scraping against her ribs when she took a deep breath, and thrust it into her heart until the crooked horns caressed her skin wet with sweat and blood, and the point of the dagger escaped from the flesh in her spine.

After she had passed, her now pale face resting against the gravestone, the white wolf licking her arm clean of blood the Altmer picked her up, walked to the edge of the graveyard. On top the mighty obsidian cliffs he threw her in the ocean beneath, dagger and all.

Three days after Victoria’s disappearance the Psijic discovered the Altmer’s body in his bedchambers, a thin dagger was lodged between his ribs, piercing his heart. His white wolf, which was given to him in his initiation as Psijic, Wrye was missing.

To this day it is said that Victoria, or what is left of her travels Tamriel with the white wolf searching for those that betray the love of others. I do not envy those that incur her wrath.

When I had written down this extraordinary story, as I sat on the beach resting my feet in the hot water and sifting my hands though the sand again, I cut myself something fierce. The bleeding stopped swiftly though, as the white sand clogged the wound. And as I reached into the depths of the sand I was very surprised to feel something incredibly cold! I pulled the cold object from the sand and washed the blood and sand off of it. It was a peculiar dagger, long and thin.


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PostPosted: June 28th, 2007 
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In case you don't get it from the text, this story is about the Stiletto from the Altmer module. I've been a fan of the Stiletto ever since I first played Hitman: Blood Money. It is such a perfect assassin blade! :)


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PostPosted: June 28th, 2007 
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nah

that's old. the stilleto isn't an Altmer blade anymore, it's a Breton dagger now...

you see that's an example of why anything you write with Realswords in mind, if we don't talk about it first, it can go wrong.

here you based your story on an old screenshot I did of the daggers. and because you didn't ask me, well it's not working as it's not an Altmer blade now.

of course the names and origins could be changed and all, but you get my point. there are things I know that are not always clear for you all..and it's normal. :)


and it's still my idea that if you take an hour like this to write a text, and it's about Realswords, that you should be sure about what to write. There's only 24 hours in a day and few will go into writing. if when you do take an hour, you start on your own and still work on something that is related to this mod, well it's as if you were working on a real text. ANd honestly I would prefer you put this hour into a text we can use for sure because it was based on what is needed. not only what you feel.

not only that, but if I already have a story-arc for a blade and you write another..either you loose your idea, or I loose mine.and it's not a constructive way to work.

the mistake in the race up there can be very insignificant, but it's the first one and already it's mistaken at the base of the subject. What's going to come next? That's why I'd like to get to know what you are doing. I'm writing two stories now..will you try to tell about a blade I'm already writing for? it can happen..or one Elhazan is writing for and you don't know.

if not write about something else if you really need to blow steam, but if you use this mod as your subject, it has to work, and not be a work done for nothing because it doesn't fit in. savvy?

beside you never know what is going to flow out when you start, so instead of loosing time, lets gain some and use every second we can give to this as work. If I take a paper and start to draw I don't know if what I'm doing is going to be hot or not.
On a few occasion I did very good drawings, but fate had it it was made on writing paper with blue lines crossing the drawing all over. Some of these times I had no choice of paper, but if I do have the choice, I will start on a base I can keep and use after.

that's what I'm talking about. now you draw on the wrong kind of paper...

I'm mostly always online these days, unless I sleep, so contacting me and asking me something isn't hard..

all that aside, I liked that story. shame you didn't talk to me before.


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PostPosted: June 28th, 2007 
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Hey it's all good, I get your point of course. That is why I wrote so bluntly how the texts I write here are not for the Chronicles of Steel. Besides, it's not like I can't change these stories later if I need them.

I'm just storing texts and ideas that I might be able to use later here, and for the fun of writing, that's all :)

Besides, like I said, I spent an hour writing this one.

The "Qandao Cloven Heart" took me six hours, the "Ahses That Cleanse" took me literally an entire day to write, I finished only the following day.

The "Ritual Legend" was fast, three hours, and most of that was just research. Actually writing it took only 30 minutes.

So is it so wrong that spend 1 hour every now and again writing some unimportant stuff that is fun for me?

Like always I'll stop writing here if you tell me too, I just thought it would be a creative idea for me, nothing more :)

(And about the Stiletto being Breton or Altmer doesn't matter, the text doesn't mention which race made it or even where it was made. Which is another reason for why it shouldn't and wasn't made to go in the Chronicles.)


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PostPosted: June 28th, 2007 
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hey I'm not going to stop you doing anything..

but even 1 hour of work is one hour of work. If you can pitch your idea and already know it's really in the right direction, that hour is added to the rest. If you work on your own there's chance we can't keep it.

and that hour can be lost. ever heard of 'everything you do matter'? let's apply this fine sentence because it's right.

the fact it is just one hour mean nothing, it's the fact that in this particular hour, you are working, even if only pitching your ideas on paper.


that is the important thing. Of course it take a little more preparation to it, but you won't be less spontaneous if you just ask me..hey Alex, do you have an idea for this one? what is it supposed to be? and then you are free and ALL you work on we can keep.

Trying to get the best I can get, I'm also trying to get all I can get. I don't want to waste anything...as there are still lots to do. So every hour should count.


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PostPosted: June 28th, 2007 
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I don't care if you keep it, it doesn't matter. Of course I like the story, I wrote it, but only for myself :)

But alright, I know what you're saying is true, and I'm only being difficult because it's late. I hate arguing (if that is even what we are doing, I've lost track).

If I have any new ideas I actually think would work with the RealSwords project, but is not for the Orc module I'll PM you Waalx :)

As for the rest, I'll post them here if I feel like it, is that acceptable? :)

Vocha is tapping into Aetherius for the evening now, suckling sweet dreams from the essence itself.

Later.


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Edit: Out of respect for the artist I have removed the picture I had posted here because I had hotlinked directly to the site of origin, I had also not stated that it was the artists work and linked to the artists site.


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PostPosted: June 28th, 2007 
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Thanks very much for sharing, Vocha! Great story, good pacing, and an enticing turn of events. I can tell it was definitely inspired!


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Vocha wrote:
By the way Waalx, is it ok to post images like this here? I mean, wont it crowd your server something aweful?


I don't think so, the images are not on my server, so what you see here is only what your computer display, my forum and picture from another site, and the beauty of it is that this process happen on your computer, not on my server. my server is only for the text on the forum, or the images I put myself in the database. The rest come from where you link it from.

I really don't know why bethesda forbid the images on the mod board at least..it is so much better.

beside with the few member we have now, it's not likely it will slow down soon, the max number of users is still 9 at the same time. not a big strain. It can take a LOT more than this..when you download from here how fast is it? I get a very good speed in my test here..


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Elhazan wrote:
Thanks very much for sharing, Vocha! Great story, good pacing, and an enticing turn of events. I can tell it was definitely inspired!


No thank you for reading and commenting Elhazan! :) It was inspired, I am such a sucker for 'romantic' stories.

I am actually going to write a series of stories based on the fiction behind this one, both about "The Altmer" and his life and "Victoria" and her future as a vampire. Should be fun :)

Waalx wrote:
I don't think so, the images are not on my server, so what you see here is only what your computer display, my forum and picture from another site, and the beauty of it is that this process happen on your computer, not on my server. my server is only for the text on the forum, or the images I put myself in the database. The rest come from where you link it from.

I really don't know why bethesda forbid the images on the mod board at least..it is so much better.

beside with the few member we have now, it's not likely it will slow down soon, the max number of users is still 9 at the same time. not a big strain. It can take a LOT more than this..when you download from here how fast is it? I get a very good speed in my test here..


That's what I thought, I just wanted to make sure :) When I downloaded Office from your server I maxed my connection all the way (500 kB/s) which is very fast, at least in my experience.

I think Bethesda banned it from their forums because if every user linked to an image it would take far too long to load a forum page, but on this forum that is not an issue :)

Oh, and you haven't voted! :-?

:)


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Vocha wrote:
Oh, and you haven't voted! :-?

:)


ah but IM partial to everything..you didn't made a choice for those who like both story and facts..I can't vote! :???:


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Waalx wrote:
ah but IM partial to everything..you didn't made a choice for those who like both story and facts..I can't vote! :???:


I can't edit the poll :-(

But anyway, like I said in the PM to you, I'm going to dream now (and this time I mean it!) so I'll just answer Elhazan's PM and then I'm off. So please don't ask me any questions now, 'cause I'll be forced to answer :lol:

Good night all!


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PostPosted: July 14th, 2007 
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I got home from Sweden today, and I've been invited to this huge LRPG on the premiss that I help write some props for the ones holding it. So here is a snip of "The Sacrament of the Damned" I just finished writing, the whole LRPG is a crime oriented RPG inspired by the movie "Se7en", which I'm sure many have seen.

I will be writing some for RS tonight, but I'm pretty busy at the moment. I just wanted to post a little and catch up here on the forums. Enjoy.

The Scripture of the Damned

And so, behold the scripture of the damned. It has been three years in apparition, obscurity and nothing else, nothing less. Truth comes in many forms, one as dark as my intentions behind writing this. In it, and within its words, ink and all is all the knowledge I have pertained in my life, or should I say death. As is, there are three faces of life, doom, death and decay; these are the three plagues of hopes abomination. This document cures all but ignorance, which is the curse we must all live with, hidden and paramount.

So, it all led to my first day of death, one of six, six which would become one in split eternities. Truth be told (and what is truth, but temporary holes in confusion, soon to be closed by ‘new truth’, falsehood disguised) and do not believe for a second I am irresolute, for I have seen what all crave and all despise, I feared death; I thought at first of the lonely macabre reality that is life, and scoffed at it, then came the sorrow.

One of six, sorrow:

Abuse your heart, and loosen the grip of predilection, animosity and eventually sentiment. Stare down the throat of the messiah in your mind, what you plead for is what you grief after.

As the comprehension reached me and with me others, by which I mean me in my six stages of damnation, becoming five soon to be one. Inclusion on another level, seen through smoke in a veil of atrocity, then appeared the agony.

Two of six, agony:

Taint your flesh, it has little value unstained, scarred by the sun are all that hide in the dark so embrace the wailing of others as you wax your surfeit in gluttony and accede to your desires, only when you can rejoice no more from your subsisting carcass will you understand what loneliness lies in anguish.

Do what you will, undermine, for it is nothing to do but fervor at (of course, when you are damned to perfection as is the purpose of all this fervor will be but an empty word) what you will have become when all your dreams of what you would do onto others has become but beauteous memories.

Three of six, vitiation:

When your talons of covet are sharpened so that all credence to indignity is like grease to a knife. Vexing influence is the answer; force all upon the bloodstream of innocence, corrupting and perpetual.
What pestilence is remorse, after
[the rest of the document is badly burnt and unreadable].


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PostPosted: July 20th, 2007 
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Ok, so this is one of three parts to a story called Sable. I was thinking of making Part I and Part III into "Sword Stories" that is stories that goes into the Chronicles, should I get the opportunity, so I won't post them yet as the are missing a few spots where the RS sword details are "supposed" to go inn.

Anyhoo', here is Part II. You don't need to have read Part I to get a bearing on what's going on, Part I is simply the reason for why Part II is happening, and Part III is the resolution to the story.


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PostPosted: July 20th, 2007 
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Sable, Part II

But Talos had sent me in my despair for answers, so questions had to be asked. And as I entered Pellagius’ prison, the Temple of Kynareth, where he ate his last meal years later, I could not feel any joy of me finding him. For as a maiden of Kynareth led me ever closer to the cell he was held in a feeling of bitterness and greif came over me, it was pity no doubt for poor Pellagius III.

As the door to mad Pellagius’ cell was opened the feeling reached its climax, there he was a former Emperor of Tamriel, wallowing in his own misery. I knew of his madness, and it was said to me that it was absolute, so I cared little for courtesy and asked my first question immediately. As one of the maidens closed and locked the door behind me I walked into the middle of the floor and started speaking.

“I once saw something I can barely describe, it harbored inside a man, something not of Nirn. It changed him my dear Pellagius, and for some reason Talos has spoken, and I am to consult you on the matter. Tell me, have you heard the phrase ‘it hides in the light’? Dear Pellagius heir of Tiber Septim, reach out of your mind and answer my question. I am a priest of Talos, and he has shown me to your doorstep, let it not be that I have come in vain.”

I said with great vigor and determination.
Thoriz Pellagius Septim, he sat in the corner of his cell, the blackness of the four walls enclosed around him embraced him in a dim light from the window. And he tore his eyes from the walls and looked at me. No! Stared at me with great hulking eyes, his eyes were grey, grey and dull. And when he looked at me I felt a shrill to my heart. Then he uttered his first words to me.

“You have seen one of the contrasts, the plight of light?” Pelagius said with a shivering voice, like he was suffering from a ferocious cold, yet the room was warm and he seemed healthy.
I did not answer, and he went on. “It hides in it; it hides in the light, in its contrast. It is one of two you see! It is so clear! I wish I could show you, but it is lost to all eyes but mine. The first you see every day, but only its remnant, if you walk in sunshine you leave it in your path, it is not from your will, it is not a choice. Shadow! We call it.”
He spoke in great enthusiasm.

He continued. “The two contrasts, black and white, but black has two residues. The first is shadow; it comes from light and is only visible in its aftermath. It envies it, and follows it gracefully, waiting for its turn to shine. The second, oh the second! It is something else entire! In the absence of light, there it is, visible to all and none! For it cannot be seen, and that is its beauty; IN THE ABSENCE OF LIGHT, THERE IS PURE DARKNESS! AND THAT IS THE SABLE!”

He said with a voice growing stronger and stronger, like something was fuelling him, until he shouted at the top of his lungs, but there was no one but me to listen to his screams. And his madness saddened me deeply.

I tried to interrupt him when it seemed he had lost breath. “Pellagius, calm down, there is only you, me and Talos here. There is no need to shout, I am listening to…” He interrupted me and continued none the less.

“The sable, I wish you could see it. Even shadow in its most profound form is still just a remnant of itself, matt, pointless. It is like the edge of a sword, only dull and unusable, but the sable; it is liquid, flowing and glistening with purity. It is essence, concentrated into a point… It is just that, the point of the sword. It is the night, and none know it, but even if you cannot see it, it is still there. And even if you cannot touch it, it can certainly touch you! And that is what it means, ‘it hides in the light’, for once the sable has touched you enough times in the night. The shadow, the edge! It is sharpened, and it becomes a part of you!”

He spoke like a scholar, I was beginning to doubt it was just insanity speaking to me, and there was something else. Something not of Pellagius, in his eyes, when I looked deep in them there was something else, other than the crazed Septim looking back. And the deeper I looked, the stronger the shrill in my heart became.

“The man, the one that was changed, I did not mention. His hair, it was once brown and thick, I knew the man well and his hair was once of great pride to him, and his eyes were dark hazel, but last time I saw him. His ghastly gaze was beyond my comprehension and his hair was pitch black and long and thin like a ginko leaf! His outside was changed, how is it possible? A man cannot change his appearance simply by his own will!”

I said as I was turning desperate; I had come such a long way, and I needed answers. I feared that the shift I had seen in Pellagius was not his intention and that he was delving further into his insanity, retreating to his safe burrow. I had to get my answers before he had none left to give.

“It is not by his will that he is changed, the sable lives in him now, each time it touches you it becomes more of a part of you. And little by little it changes with you and you with it. Trust me; his hair is the least of his concerns, HAHAHA!”

Pellagius said with an almost bored tone of voice, strangely unlike what I first encountered when I asked my first question. It was like he was almost another person, and when he started laughing at the end! It was a laugh like no other persons laugh I have ever heard, and it was so deep, not like Pellagius normal voice, which was light and flowing as can be expected of a young man, yet murky from his many years of confinement and little conversation with other men.

To be truthful, sitting in that dank room, with the only exit locked from the other side by the saints of Kynareth responsible for the temple I began to think strange thoughts. Perhaps in my old age fear was too easily getting the best of me, or maybe I was simply being paranoid, but Pellagius did not help the matter as for the last few minutes he had kept his face hidden in the shaded corner of the rooms left side, underneath the window.

The middle of the room was quite bright, illuminated almost, at least if you stared towards the ceiling, as it was a quite tall under the roof, but the window was very small and lighted only a patch of the rooms floor, and its walls made of grey stone reflected little light. And since it was dark outside and Secunda and Masser was the only brightness abroad, the room’s four corners were almost utterly concealed; only Pellagius’ white thin legs were completely visible, sticking out of his dirty torn undergarments. I could make out his shoulders as I sat clutching myself up against the locked door, his hands seemed to grasp his face or chest, and he made a series of strange noises. Like when a person eats with his mouth open, only much more subtle, like he was chewing on something.

“Pellagius, what are you doing?” I said softly.

“Pellagius, can you hear me? What did you mean his hair is the least of his concerns?” I inquired while I pushed myself up against the door until I was standing almost upright.

The awkward noises stopped for a moment, and I could see he moved, but I was standing to close to the light now, I could only make out his toes on the filthy floor. And as he moved a gust of wind caused much of the dust to gather in the air, I could see it clearly in the light from the window. He spoke.

“I’m eating, have you no manners? Interrupting me in my feast!?” He said with a grisly voice, like his mouth was filled with something moist, and it was sharp like he was screaming, but couldn’t make his voice any louder for some reason.

Before I could answer he spoke again.

“His hair is his last concern I assure you, tell me have you consorted much with this man?”

He said followed with a small gasp for air, like he had just swallowed whatever was in his mouth. His voice was much clearer, yet still retained its bored attitude.

“He was a close friend of mine, he IS a close friend of mine and a devout servant, no a saint of Talos!” I said. Not lingering on the subject, Pellagius was beginning to frighten me, I considered calling for one of the maidens outside the door, but I decided to linger a little longer. Talos guided me to Pellagius, I thought I should stay as long as Pellagius was still talking, even if he made little sense.

“Then perhaps you too, should worry about your hair, had you been blessed by having any that is. Foul disease hair loss, don’t you agree? Or is it just that you are so cursed with age that you cannot muster the strength to comb you hair any longer, so you decided to rid yourself of it!? How much strength of character it must take, being a priest of Talos, tell me are you married? What with all those maidens in the church, or do you live in a priory? Even better, secluded, one can find all sorts of joyous occasions in a secluded place. Don’t you find that screams are much better unheard? Except for you that is, the one causing them? No?”

His voice had become exited, speaking in a low sharp tone with an almost mocking attitude. I could not believe his words, accusing a priest of Talos of such impurity of such wretchedness. I was sure now; I was not speaking to Pellagius, not anymore.

“Why are your words filled with such vile accusations, such filthiness? Pellagius, whomever I am speaking to! Tell me, why have I been lead here? Why to you, and what are you? Pellagius, of the blessed bloodline what have you become?”

I was almost in tears, call it fear or pity, it was neither and both. I was almost crying out to him, highly improper for a priest, but I could not hold it in. He was crawling out of the shadows now, seemingly on his stomach, trying to get up as he crept closer and closer, like a leaf changing color in the fall I could make out more of his features, but the light and the dust concealed him just as much as the darkness did.

“What’s the matter Randar? Have you never seen a Septim crawl before?” He said as he gave out crude moans and almost slithered closer.

“How do you know my name? I have not introduced myself.” I said as he started moving again.

He did not answer my last question.

He was getting up now, he was no more than six feet from me, and as he straightened his back I could see the back of his head clearly, his hair was black as the heaviest rainclouds and covered in dust.

“My name is irrelevant, I am not Pellagius, yet he is part of me still. Your friend is lost, forget him.”

As he spoke he raised his head more and more, his shoulders were no longer grasping for his neck and he started to look relaxed, I could barely make out his forehead and his ears. And…


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PostPosted: May 10th, 2008 
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I like these stories very much! Are you still working on them?


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PostPosted: May 10th, 2008 
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this is Vocha stuff in this thread. and he's off in the military for a year.

but the Chronicles of Steel are still in progress, in a secret part of the forum. The combined stories could now be compared to a small novel.

it will come out later-on though, when I resume work on RealSwords and finish the races that are not out yet.

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