|
Post by simonstormcloak on Oct 13, 2012 19:45:26 GMT -5
And yes, that was a Lord of the Rings reference.
|
|
|
Post by simonstormcloak on Sept 28, 2012 16:22:10 GMT -5
Hello viewers. I have been writing Skyrim fanfic for around half a year now, and I'm not going to stop. But I would like to officially announce that I am DISCONTINUING stories on this site. If you want to read more of my works, then head over to fanfiction.net and find me, SimonStormcloak. Nobody posts on this site anymore, and fanfiction has a MUCH larger archive of Elder Scrolls stories, over 1700, in fact! So I would like to say, as for my works on this website, This is the End. I am LEAVING. Goodbye. *Puts on ring and disappears*
|
|
|
Post by simonstormcloak on Aug 3, 2012 20:23:05 GMT -5
The next morning we continued along the road until I saw a large stone temple across the river. "Ralof," I said. "What's that?" "The stone temple? Bleak Falls Barrow. Big for a barrow. Full of Draugr, it is." "That's what they say in Hammerfell. Except that all we got are ancient structures left to us by the Dwemer." "Must be hard to explore with all their creations." "What? No, There's not much in there. Just a few zombies and rats." "A zombie? What's that?" "Kind of like a Draugr. But no armor and no weapon. They're rotting corpses that moan and walk around. Lots of them in Cyrodill." "So... Not deadly then?" "Quite the contrary. They can punch and claw. Most adventurers can handle them, but I've seen a few running out with a few zombies after them. But the guards always put them down." "Let's keep going." We kept along the path, and eventually Ralof came to a stop. "These are the Guradian Stones." He said, pointing to three large tall stones, one with a carving of a wizard, another with a hooded man, and a man with a horned helmet and an axe. "That's the warrior, the thief, and the mage." "Oh, you mean like birthsigns?" "Huh?" "You know, the Tower, the Steed, the Atronach..." "Yeah, the stones! You put your hand on it, and you're given powers!" I was astonished. How did he not know about birthsigns? "Yeah. You're born under them, aren't they?" I said. "No..." "Of course! I was born under the Tower! What about you?" "Well, I was interested in magic when I was little, so I got the Mage, but now I'm a warrior. But you can only touch a stone once, so I'm stuck being a wizard with a sword. "So, pick your sign carefully. Or else you'll be stuck being a phoney forever." "Okay." I said. I walked over to the Warrior stone. I put my hand to it and... Nothing happened. No blinding white light or big blackout, nothing at all." "Hmm." Said Ralof. "If you're 'born under the Tower', maybe it just can't change it." "It's funny," I said, "How things change in different parts of the world." "Yeah, born to be Tower, I guess." Eventually we came to some stone and wood walls. Well, not really stone and wood, more like a little portion of a wall for people to get a view. "This is Riverwood." Ralof said. "A cozy little town on the border of Whiterun and Falkreath." "What hold is it actually in?" I asked. "Well, let's say right now I'm in Falkreath." He took a step into the town. "Now I'm in Whiterun." He said. "Come on, let's find Gerdur. She's my sister, owns the lumber mill with her husband Hod. Got a little child, too. Name's Frodnar." I took a look around and from what I saw, it was a pretty decent town. There was a Blacksmith shop to my left, General store to my right, and a little bit ahead there was an inn. In between the Inn and the Trader I could see a few houses. Right in front of the Smith to my left, there was a wooden path leading to the mill. "A Dragon! I saw a Dragon!" What? I turned to my right. In front of the Trader was a house with an old woman up front. A man with long dirty blonde hair and a muscular build went up to the woman. "What? What is now, Mother?" "I-It was as big as a house, and black as night! It flew right over the Barrow!" She saw it too? The man didn't seem to be showing any suprise. "Dragons now, is it? If you keep rambling on like this, everybody will think you're crazy." "Sven, I'm not lying! It roared and flew straight away! You didn't see it?" I was about to cut in when Ralof grabbed my arm. "Let's try not to draw any attention to ourselves, okay?" We went to the mill where there was a big man in a white tunic working the mill. Down below cutting wood was a blond woman in a green dress. "Gerdur!" Ralof said. She looked up. "Ralof! Why are you here? Are you on leave-" "Gerdur, Gerdur! We're fine. Is there someplace we can talk without being overheard?" "Ah, yes. Follow me." She led us to a tree stump, then turned and yelled to the man at the mill. "Hod, get over here!" "What is it woman? Sven drunk on the job again?" "Just get over here!" Hod looked down and was clearly suprised by what he saw. "Ralof! What are you doing here? Er, I'll be right down!" We waited awhile and Hod got over. "Now, Ralof." He said. "Why are you back?" Was there some family arguement? He didn't seem too friendly. "Yes," Gerdur said. "We heard Ulfric had been captured." Oh, they were just worried about him and Ulfric. "Sit down." He said. "It's a long story."
|
|
|
Post by simonstormcloak on Jun 23, 2012 22:01:14 GMT -5
Thalmor Embassy, 31st Frostfall, 4E201 Helvir ducked as a shock spell hit the wall above him. He jumped forward and broke the mage's neck. He picked up his sword and ran forward. He still wasn't quite used to the Steel Imperial sword. It was sharper, but shorter and heavier than his preferred Iron Longsword. But the sharp edge did come in handy. His Iron sword probably wasn't enough to get through the Gilded Elven Armor that the Thalmor had. That's one room clear, about... three to go. Helvir ran out to catch up with the Legate Fasendil at the entrance. "Legate," He panted. "The room's clear. No sign of Elenwen." "Damn." Fasendil said. "Let's move on. She's here somewhere. Shke has no other place to escape to." Elenwen was the High Elven Thalmor Ambassador for Skyrim, sent by the Aldmeri Dominion to keep the peace. "Alright. Let's go on to the next room. Helvir, get Julius and Draconius." "Yessir." Helvir went into a cleared room, where Draco and Brutus were doing a double check, just to make sure. "Oh, hi Helvir." said Julius as Helvir walked in. "The next room's clear, just so you know. Anything in here?" "Yeah. There were a few hiding out. We killed 'em. "Good. The Legate needs us to regroup and move on to the next room." "Sure thing, just give us a moment." Brutus walked over to a closet. "Must've forgotten to check here..." An Aldmeri Assassin jumped out of the closet and stabbed Julius in the chest. "SHIT!" Draco yelled. He grabbed the Assassin and threw him into a wall. "You stupid elf... You'll pay for this!" Draco brutally beat the elf until there was blood coming from his eyes. "That'll teach you not to kill my friends!" He plunged a dagger into the Assassin's neck. Helvir was attending to Julius, who was bleeding out. "Oh gods, Julius..." He stood up. "I'm sorry Draco... He's gone." Draco wiped away a few tears. "Not a surprise. I've had a lot of friends killed." "It's alright, Draco. Come on, the Legate's expecting us." The two ran out of the building and into the next, where some of Fasendil's soldiers were clearing out the first room. Fasendil came out of the second room, covered in blood. "I think- I think I saw Elenwen. She's... In the next building. The- The Solar. But there's mages. They almost killed me. So, unless you absolutely hate magic... come on!" They fought their way through the building, until they reached the last room. In there was Elenwen, in full Malachite Glass armor, surrounded by about four mages and ten warriors, all dressed in Gilded Elven Armor. "Well," Elenwen said. "It seems that you were lucky enough to fight your way here." The Aldmeri warriors drew their swords, the mages readying spells. "It's a shame that you had to start this attack, but certainly not a shame that we have to kill you. In fact, I'm going to quite enjoy this." Fasendil came running into the room. Nobody noticed his short absence. "General Stormcloak is here." He informed everyone. Ulfric Stormcloak came into the room, dressed head to toe in Steel Nordic Armor. His helmet was pure steel with two long horns. "Elenwen. Nice to see you again." "Ulfric. Didn't expect you to live this long. I guess I underestimated the power of the legion." "Even more powerful with Stormcloaks in it. "I think not. Your 'Legion' didn't do too well in the last war." "That was then. This is now." "Then I guess you still believe in this silly 'Talos'." "The whole reason of this." "Well, I'll have you know it's impossible for Talos to ascend to godhood. There are only Eight gods." "Don't you mean seven?" "Huh?" "Arkay was a man before becoming a god." "Well, I guess I never really took that into account..." "Talos is mighty!" Yelled one of the Legionnaries. All the Imperial Soldiers charged. Helvir cut several Thalmor down before coming face to face with a warrior. "Come at me, Nord." He sneered. "You know mer are superior to men." "In your Low Elven Dreams!" Helvir charged. He swept upward, missed, then slashed the elf in the shin. "FUCK!" Swore the elf. He landed on his face. Helvir dug his sword into the elf's back. The Elf was screaming in pain, but Helvir had moved on, so he couldn't hear him.
|
|
|
Post by simonstormcloak on Jun 22, 2012 16:09:01 GMT -5
Fort Greenwall, 17th Last Seed, 4E401. Helvir stoked the flames and turned to his friend Jorvar. "It's a really cold night." "What did you expect?" Said Jorvar. "It is Skyrim, after all." "I guess so. But somehow, this fire isn't warm enough." "Maybe it's burning out. Want me to go get some wood?" "Sure, maybe that'll help." Jorvar grabbed an axe from his tent and went into the woods. A few minutes later, he came back with two logs. "Hey, Helvir?" "Yes?" "The men you kill... Do they haunt you?" "Well..." "I mean, only a beast kills without feeling, right?" "I guess. But if we didn't kill them, they would've killed us." "They say you get used to it after a while. I don't know if that's good or not." "Who knows, really..." Jorvar was cut off by a horn blowing. "Imperials." Said Helvir. He grabbed his Waraxe and ran to the gate. Jorvar stumbled to grab his Warhammer and sprinted to the south flank. Imperials were coming out of the forest on horseback. They were led by a huge Legionnary in heavy armor. The general stood at the gate of the fort. "Helvir, get to the Northeast turret! Falin, Right flank! Hvelga, guard the front gate with Nura and Hvort! I will be at the front with Aelvan and Jorvar! Droth and Vulan, I need you to make sure nobody enters through the back! The rest of you, Defensive Formation!" The Imperials charged on horseback. Helvir readied his bow. Remember training, he thought. One second, find a target. He locked on to a Legionnary staying behind with a few others. Two seconds, take aim. He made sure not to break his line of sight. Three seconds, draw. He drew his bow and focused. Four seconds, Hold your breath. He did so, helping him concentrate. Five, Fire. It hit the target straight in the neck. The Legionnary fell off his horse and bled out quick. Helvir then noticed that the enemy was almost breaking through the main entrance. Hvort was already down, and Nura needed some help. Helvir jumped down from his position and drew his axe. He swung and hit an Imperial in the chest, spun around, dodged a sword attack, disarmed one, then chucked a dagger at another, using the disarmed Imperial as a human shield, being pelted by arrows. He threw down the body and grabbed an Imperial's arm. He punched the Imperial in the face, kneed him and then broke his neck. Jorvar wasn't having nearly as much fun. He swung at an Imperial, missed, hit the wall and broke his Hammer. He reacted by smashing that Imperial's head in the wall. One crept up behind him, a fatal mistake. Jorvar twisted the man's wrist and plunged a dagger into his eye. Aelvan fought off several Imperials before being cut down, and the general had gone to fight at the back gate with Droth, as Vulan had been killed. The fight went on for several hours, and by the time the battle was over, only Falin, Nura, Jorvar, Helvir and the General were left standing. And the survivors also had tremendous wounds. Falin had lost an eye, Nura was out cold, Jorvar had a large cut on his back and the general was near death. Helvir seemed to be the only one unwounded. Afterwards, Nura was resting in the tents, Jorvar was writing a letter home, the General was planning, and Falin and Helvir took a walk. 'Dear Helena,' Jorvar wrote. 'I have been in the Rift for two months, now. The weather is cold as always, and the Imperials are relentless in trying to take Riften. Jarl Ulfric has promised reinforcements, but that was two weeks ago. We were attacked today, and the results were devastating. I've been here so long, I've forgotten what day it is. Morndas, right? seventeenth of last seed, fourth era, two-hundred and one. I wonder how we've managed to survive this long. I hope this war is over soon. Don't we all? Maybe I should retire. But I can't for that would be much too cowardly. You Bretons don't know courage like Nords. I'm running low on ink, so I must finish. I love you, -Jorvar.' Jorvar finished his letter just as his quill ran out of ink. Meanwhile, Falin and Helvir were having a discussion in the barracks. "A courier told me that Ulfric was captured." Falin said. "The Jarl? How?" "Exactly. That's where it gets weird. He was near Darkwater Crossing when a bunch of Imperials jumped out of the woods and ambushed him." "How is that weird?" "Well, General Tullius led the attack..." "Tullius! That scoundrel..." "Also, Ulfric gave up without a fight." "What? How Cowardly of him! I hope he had good reason." "Oh but he did. He was greatly outnumbered, and he knew he wouldn't win." "So much for his 'Death or Glory' reputation." "Yes, but now it gets very strange. The courier told me that a dragon attacked and destroyed the town." "A... Dragon? That can't be! Are you sure the courier wasn't-" "Drunk? Yes. I asked him. He said he'd been dry for three days." "Did Ulfric escape?" "Fortunately, yes." "Well, that's... Crazy." "Of course it is! But we shouldn't tell anyone until it's confirmed." "We should sleep now. Hopefully there won't be an attack tomorrow." Falin and Helvir went to their bedrolls. Tomorrow should be better, Helvir thought as he drifted off to sleep.
***
Rift Imperial Camp, 18th of Last Seed, 4E201. Legate Fasendil woke up to the smell of Roasted Rabbit. "Mmmm... Rabbit?" The missionary Draconius answered. "Nah, Venison." "Hmm? All the way out here in the Rift?" "Yeah. We found a whole bunch of 'em in the forest. Turns out, the Rift isn't all swampy marshland. Look around, and you see a lot of trees." "Well..." Fasendil grunted and got up. "I've never really got to explore much, with all the raids and stuff." Fasendil pulled his cuirass over his shirt, and put on his boots, bracers and greaves. "You know what I've noticed, Draco?" "Yeah?" "Our armor doesn't have pauldrons. Have you noticed that?" "Well, our soldiers in Morrowind have pauldrons..." "Yeah, same in the Imperial City. But here? Like, seriously. With Nordic armor, your arms are always exposed. Yet nobody seems to care." "It's kept us alive so far, right Commander?" "I guess. But last night's raid didn't go too well." "You've got to admit, they're really tough." "Definitely. Sometimes I wish I was on their side." Draconius was appalled. "Fasendil! How could you say that?" "I can say it because..." He paused, then looked up. "Because I hate the Thalmor." "Don't we all?" "It's not just that. This Empire is a puppet. A puppet of a stupid Dominion from a stupid Province that hails a stupid race." "Commander, you're a-" "High Elf? An Altmer? You think I don't know this? You think I want to be a stupid f**king ELF? I want to be a Nord, an Imperial, even a Gods-Damned Breton! I do NOT hold with the Dominion's Ideals. I do NOT support them at all! I hate this stupid Empire, this damn puppet of the Thalmor! I may be an Elf, but at heart, I'm a Stormcloak!" The whole camp was staring in awe at Fasendil's sudden outburst. It wasn't everyday a High Elf Legionnary hates the Dominion and likes the Stormcloaks. After a long moment of silence, Draco laughed. "You can't be- Hehe-serious, right Fasendil?" "You don't think I'm serious?" He said. He went into his tent, and came out a few moments later with an Amulet of Talos. "Oh yeah," He said. "I'm serious."
*** Fort Greenwall, Noon. Helvir was getting tired. The only exciting he'd seen all day was a Bear chase a Rabbit. The Rabbit got away, and Falin killed the bear and took it's pelt. Before he decided to doze off, Nura, who was reading a book, looked up and shouted; "Helvir, look!" Helvir stumbled for his bow. "What is it? A Troll?" "No. A horse!" "What in Oblivion..." It was a gigantic convoy of Imperials. Led by General Tullius. "Oh no... Everyone out! Imperials!" The general rushed out of his tent with his enchanted battleaxe. Falin and Jorvar came out of the fort. "Everyone up to the gate!" Said the General. "Oh gods..." "By the Nine!" The convoy was composed by eight carriages full of soldiers, not to mention about fifty men on horseback. With them were about thirty Alik'r warriors. Also, there were about sixty Dunmer. Beside General Tullius was the High Elf Legate, Fasendil. And on the other side was Legate Rikke, with a smile on her face. The General stepped forward. "Well, well. General Tullius. No reason to send the whole legion on us." "That's not what we're here for. Ulfric?" Ulfric Stormcloak stepped out from behind Tullius, dressed in full battle armor. The Stormcloaks at the fort also noticed that some of the Imperial Soldiers that were in the carts and on the horses were fellow Stormcloaks. "Do not worry, friends. I'll explain it all on the carriage."
*** Now, are you wondering why Ulfric is suddenly with the Legion? I bet you are. And I bet you've figured it out already. Fasendil, by now a huge Stormcloak sympathizer, had rallied Imperial Legates to have a council meeting with General Tullius. Over the course of a few weeks, the Legates swayed him, and so Tullius pleaded his case to the Emperor. Titus said that he couldn't send Legion troops from Cyrodill, and that Skyrim had to make do on it's own. General Tullius then seeked help from Hammerfell, who happily agreed to send troops to fight the Dominion. The Tribunal in Morrowind took a little persuasion, but eventually they agreed. Now, Skyrim was ready to eradicate the Aldmeri Dominion. *** "Fellow Nords, Imperials, Dunmer, Redguards. We are gathered here today to fight an evil. An evil worse than Jagar Tharn, worse than Mehrunes Dagon, worse than the God Alduin himself! We fight an evil called the Aldmeri Dominion. "These Altmer, these stupid, snobby Thalmor, they think they're so much better than us. Today we will prove them wrong! "It has been thirty years ago today, that we went to war with this evil. But we were caught off guard, and so we must not do so again! And so on this thirtieth of Frostfall, Fourth Era Two Hundred and one, we go to war again! My friends, WELCOME TO THE SECOND GREAT WAR!" The crowd cheered at Ulfric's speech. Over five thousand warriors, fighting for their freedom. Beside Ulfric was the King of Morrowind, Helseth Hlaalu. Along with them was an ambassador from Hammerfell. General Tullius was beside Ulfric, with Legate Rikke at his side. On the other side of Ulfric was Galmar Stone-Fist. The army had assembled in front of the Thalmor Embassy, with their swords drawn. A Thalmor General came out of the Embassy. "By the Eight..." "The NINE, you mean. Right?" Said Ulfric. "What in Oblivion is going on?" "This." said Tullius. He drew his bow, shot, and hit the Thalmor Soldier straight in the eye. It was the first shot of the Aldmeri War.
|
|
|
Post by simonstormcloak on Jun 7, 2012 21:49:34 GMT -5
When I was a child back in Elinhir, my father told me tales about Tiber Septim, or as he called him, Ysmir, and how he conquered Tamriel with his voice. I knew that Tiber Septim was the first Emperor, and that he ascended into godhood, but I never really understood that part about the voice, or as father called it, a Thu'um. Now I did.
It came out of nowhere, flew across the mountains and landed on the tower. "Sentries, what do you see?" Said the Captain. Everyone drew their swords. One Imperial cut a Stormcloak's binding loose and gave him a spare sword. "DRAGON!" One of the Stormcloaks yelled. The headsman was so suprised he fell down. He got back up, but then the dragon yelled, "Yol Toor...SHUUUUUUUL!" Breathing fire on the 'Shuul'. The headsman fell down. It shouted something else, but I couldn't figure out what it said. Flaming rocks fell from the sky, and a pile of wood fell on me. "Guards, get the townspeople to-" General Tullius shouted before the Dragon killed his horse and made him fall down. Suddenly, the wood was lifted off of me. "Hey, Kinsman! Get up! Come on, the gods won't give us another chance!" Ralof the Stormcloak pulled me up, and dragged me, half-conscious, towards the tower. Once we were in, Ralof closed the door, and before me stood Ulfric Stormcloak, Ungagged. I noticed he had a beard, which made him look older. "Jarl Ulfric," Ralof said, "What is that thing? Could the legends be true?" Ulfric responded with a more brave tone. "Legends don't burn down villages." Such heroic words yet so little time. "We've got to move. Now!" Ulfric shouted over the sound of destruction. "Let's go! Up through the tower!" Ralof said to me. We ran up the stairs and found another Stormcloak, saying "We just need to move some of these rocks to clear the-" The wall burst open and the dragon shouted "Yol Toor Shuuuuuuul!" On 'Shuul', a gout of flames came out of his head. Ralof tumbled down the stairs. The dragon flew away and Ralof came back up the stairs. Pointing to the hole in the wall, he said "See that Inn on the other side? Jump through the roof and keep going!" "Jump through the wall? Are you crazy?" "Go! We'll follow when we can!" I grunted and jumped through the wall and into the Inn. It was an amazing feat. Im alive, I thought. Then I saw the blood on my leg. Oh gods... I broke my right leg. I limped downstairs and saw the friendly Nord Imperial (Hadvar, was it?) trying to get the child Haming to take cover. On the ground lay Torolf, bloody and defeated. "Haming, you need to get over here, NOW!" Haming finally listened to Hadvar and took cover behind the broken house with him. Just in time, for the Dragon had landed and yelled 'Yol Toor Shuul'. "Oh gods, everyone get back!" I took notice that there was an old man in Iron Armor with Hadvar and Haming. The fire from the Dragon killed poor Torolf. "Gunnar, take care of the boy!" said Hadvar. "I need to find General Tullius and join the defense!" "Gods guide you, Hadvar." Said the Old Man. "Still alive, prisoner?" Said Hadvar. "Stick close to me if you want to stay that way!" We ran past Torolf's corpse, behind a house. "Stick close to the wall!" At that moment, the Dragon pegged one of his wings into the ground and burned an Imperial Soldier. The Dragon flew away and we ran to the gate. General Tullius was leading the defence. I saw Vilod and Ingrid on the ground, but not dead. Thank the Gods for that. Tullius yelled at Hadvar, "Into the keep, soldier! We're leaving!" "It's just you and me, prisoner. Keep moving!" "I don't think so." said a voice from behind me. Ulfric Stormcloak stood, axe in hand and covered in blood. "Follow me, Torgen." I immediately complied. I ran with Ulfric down into the keep, and I met with Ralof and another Stormcloak. "Jarl Ulfric," I said. "How do you know my name?" "Well," he replied. "When I was in the legion, I-" Just then, the top of the keep collapsed and rubble covered both doors. "Shor's bones..." Ulfric took his axe and sawed off my bindings. Ralof handed me a sword. "Here. Gunjar, follow me. Jarl Stormcloak, lead the way!" Ulfric led us to the gate, where Imperials where fighting the Dragon. He told us to stand back and he yelled; "Fus... RO DAH!!!" He blasted the gate down while the soldiers ran for cover. "What was that?" said Tullius. "The Thu'um. A blessing of Talos." replied Ulfric. "You stupid Nord... TALOS DOES NOT EXIST!" Me and the Stormcloaks ran through to gates and ran for our lives. Once we had run a fair distance, I turned around and saw Helgen, by now a smoking pile of rubble. The Dragon flew away and I turned to Ulfric. "Where to?" "You should go to Riverwood with Ralof. I'm returning to Windhelm with Gunjar to make sure everything's alright." "Okay. Let's go." Me and Ralof traveled along the ruined road. "That was some creature," he said. "I wonder if Hadvar made it." "Maybe." Come to think, I hadn't seen Hadvar since he told me to come along. He might have been killed by the Dragon, but I wasn't sure. "Maybe the dragon killed Tullius." "That would be a blessing. But I think that he probably escaped." We ran along, talking about life and such matters. By nightfall, we were about halfway along the road, roasting some rabbit in a campfire. Ralof told stories about Draugr, undead nords who killed anyone they saw. I told him about growing up in Elinhir, and how I came to Skyrim. "You came home." he said. "Just because I'm a Nord doesn't mean I can't be from Skyrim." "Where's your family from?" "All over Tamriel. We originate in High Rock, but then my early ancestors traveled to Morrowind, then Skyrim, that's where my Nord heritage starts, and lived in Valenwood for a short time. My Great-Grandparents lived in Summerset Isles until the end of the Oblivion Crisis. Afterwords, they moved to Hammerfell, where they started a family in Dragonstar. My mother moved to Elinhir when she was a young woman. There she met my father, a miner from Skyrim. I lived in Elinhir until now. I have no contact with my family and I can't risk to go across the borders again." "A family of Nomads, eh?" Ralof said. "My family doesn't have much history. We originate from Markarth, but most of my family is from Riverwood. I grew up there with my sister Gerdur. Hadvar was one of my best friends, you know? Until after the great war. When I joined the Stormcloaks and he went Imperial, things changed. We became rivals. A house divided can not stand. Mark my words, some day the war will end. Which side will win, I do not know. Nor do I know if I will survive. I just hope that we can bring this conflict to an end. I don't want to lose the empire, but I don't want it to be a puppet of the thalmor." I nodded in agreement and took another swig of mead. "Elves really aren't that bad. My best friend in Elinhir was a Bosmer, and occasionally I got to see my Altmer friend in Sentinel." "Why do you call them 'Bosmer' and 'Altmer'? Why not refer to them by their common name? Wood Elves and High Elves. It's much easier." "When you live in Hammerfell, you learn that using correct terms for names really helps. A Bosmer may take offense at being called a 'Wood-Elf', so we natives refer to them by their true name." "It's almost eleven. We should get some sleep if we want to make it to Riverwood tomorrow.
|
|
|
Post by simonstormcloak on Jun 7, 2012 21:09:49 GMT -5
Yeah, so... The Earth connecting to Skyrim idea didn't really work out. I mean, as much as I love skeptical Irish people, it's an idea I need to can. So now, I'll be focusing on the Last Dragonborn, which seems pretty nice to me. PEACE OUT! :-)
-Simonstormcloak
|
|
|
Post by simonstormcloak on May 10, 2012 19:58:48 GMT -5
Ysgramor returned to the tavern in Dunthraad after to find it filled with 480 people. Only 30 were actually in the tavern itself, as it had filled up with people. Ylgar, Ysgramor's eldest son, ran to his father, and said: "Father! Father! We have hundreds of people dedicated to our cause! Even some Elves joined up! With this force, we can take back our home with ease!" Ysgramor was filled with joy, and laughed when he said that he could only recruit twenty men by himself. The 480 men plus the 20 that he had borrowed from the guard captain made exactly 500 companions for Ysgramor and his sons, no more, no less. And so, Ysgramor and the 500 companions, sons included, set sail from the massive shipyards of Jylkurfyk, to Mereth, which, in the future, would be called Skyrim. There were many people, and many boats. Ysgramor's boat was called 'Ylgermet', and his son's boats were named 'Harakk', and 'Darumzu'. The plan was originally to head straight to Atmora and meet up at Hsaarik Head, but a large-scale storm, known as the Storm of Seperation, split them apart. Yngol was the only son that found his father. Ysgramor took all his men and went into the storm to seek Ylgar. However, once he found the wreck of the Ylgermet and the dead crew, including Ylgar, The Sea-Ghosts had already taken out two ships, including the Darumzu. With both of his sons dead, Ysgramor hunted down and burned the Sea Ghosts in their honor. After Ysgramor killed the ghosts, he dug a Barrow. He went back to the ruins of the Darumzu and Buried his son in the Barrow. This was later called Yngol Barrow. Finally, with 470 companions left, he reached Hsaarik Head. At the camp, Ysgramor made a speech: "My Shield-Brothers, I know we have lost many men today, but do not give up hope! For I have lost both my sons, and I still fight! So, in honor of your dead companions, FIGHT! And we will win this battle! We will drive the Elves from our home! We will reclaim what is lost! And we will restore Saarthal to it's former glory!" This gave the men courage to fight, and so in the night, Saarthal was attacked, this time by men.
|
|
|
Post by simonstormcloak on May 10, 2012 19:57:40 GMT -5
Yngol and Ylgar woke up at around 9:00 in the tavern that they had stayed in the night before. The inkeeper had informed the boys that their father, Ysgramor, had left to rally men to take back Saarthal and drive back the Elves. "Don't go causing any trouble, alright? We don't want your father visiting you in the prison." The two boys heeded the innkeeper's warning, and set out to look for their father. They eventually found him at the guard barracks, seeking aid from the watch captain. Ysgramor was arguing with the captain. "I already told you, we can't spare any more men! The risk is too great!" "I don't care if you can't give me a whole army of guards! I'm asking for all that you can afford at this time! "We can't afford anything! Too many men were lost in the civil war, and we need to wait for more recruits!" "Is that what you're going to do? Wait it out? Do you know how cowardly that is? Are you a man, or a weasel?" The entire room was silent, and after a few moments, Yngol spoke out. "Father? What is going on?" Ysgramor noticed his sons and said: "Yngol, Ylgar. Now is not the time. We should leave and see what the others have rounded up." As Ysgramor and his sons headed for the door as the captain exclaimed: "Wait!" Ysgramor turned around, and the captain said: "I admire your courage and wisdom. I can spare but twenty men, but I will help convince the other cities to lend men. I will do most anything to help your cause. But I cannot send away too much soldiers, or the city will be left undefended. You can have three quarters of my reserve, twenty men. As long as you are noble, and your cause just, I will help in any way I can. Gods bless you, Ysgramor." And with that, Ysgramor and his two sons left.
|
|
|
Post by simonstormcloak on May 10, 2012 19:56:55 GMT -5
"Can you believe it father? We are home! We are finally home!" Yngol jumped with excitement as his brother Ylgar woke up from his sleep. "What is it brother? What's going on?" It was his father, Ysgramor, who replied. "We are back in Atmora, lad! The city of Dunshaal lies just ahead!" Ysgramor, Ylgar, and Yngol had fled from the burning city of Saarthal the night before, and as far as they knew, they were the only survivors of the Falmer attack on Saarthal. The city gate guard said to Ysgramor: "Ysgramor! You have brought your sons here! I trust you bring good news?" "Meet me at the tavern at 7:00. I will tell you what has been going on." The guard went back to his post, and as the family entered Dunshaal, Ysgramor said to his sons: "I will tell the people at the tavern what has happened, you just get some rest." And with that, Ysgramor's sons went into the local tavern, bought a room with two beds, and slept 'till the next morning. Meanwhile, Ysgramor explained the events of Saarthal: "My brothers, I come with bad news. We Inhabited Mereth, and built a glorious city called Saarthal. We also got along with the elves, who called themselves Falmer. One told me that Falmer meant: 'Snow Elf'. Eventually, the Elves decided that they had had enough. Their forces, led by an Elf known as the Snow Prince, attacked Saarthal and killed everyone. We are the only survivors, and we escaped on the very last longboat. I need a force to drive the Elves out of our city. I need you to get everyone you know and rally them to take back Saarthal." The crowd was silent. "Well?" The whole Tavern said at once: "AYE!"
|
|
|
Post by simonstormcloak on May 8, 2012 10:29:39 GMT -5
"Hey you, you're finally awake," said a voice as I woke. "Huh?" I looked up to see another Nord sitting in front of me. Right away, I noticed that we were on a carriage. "W-where are we?" I asked. I was still dazed after what had happened last night. My brother Jonvar had invited me to visit him in Riften last month. I had been with my friends in my carriage driving towards Riften when the Ambush happened. A bunch of Imperial Soldiers had jumped out of the bush and killed my friends. I was captured, and thrown into a different carriage. That was when I passed out. They probably assumed we were stormcloaks. I just hoped I could explain what happened to me, and that they would let me go. Boy, was I wrong. "You were captured," The Nord said, "Along with me and that thief over there." I looked to my right and saw another Nord. Then I noticed that the First Nord was wearing Stormcloak armor. "Damn you Stormcloaks," The thief said, "Everything was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and Lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell!" By then, my vision was all cleared up. I saw that the thief had a stocky build, brown hair, and was wearing tattered clothes. The Stormcloak was very muscular, with long blonde hair and a rough beard. "We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." The Stormcloak said. The thief looked at me and said: "You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants." "You're absolutely right." I answered. "I'm completely innocent. But didn't you steal a horse?" "Well, yes. But if I'm on a cart with a bunch of Stormcloaks, there's bound to be trouble. I'll just get more than I deserve. If I steal a horse, I should be in prison a few days, yeah. But wherever there's Stormcloaks, there's-" "Shut up back there!" Said the driver of the carriage. "What's his problem, huh?" The thief nodded to a man with dirty blond hair, a fur cloak and a gag in his mouth. "Watch your tongue!" The Stormcloak said, "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true high king!" "Ulfric, you're the leader of the rebellion! If they've captured you... Oh gods, where are they taking us?" "I don't know... but Sovngarde awaits." "No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening!" The carriage passed through gates to a small village with lots of Imperial Guards. The Stormcloak looked at a tall man with gray hair and golden armor with a red cape on a horse talking to two Altmer. "Look at him," The Stormcloak said. "General Tullius, the military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him too. Damn elves, I bet they had something to do with this." A little bit of silence passed, then the Stormcloak said "Hey, what village are you from, Horse-thief?" The thief replied, "Why do you care?" "A Nord's last thoughts... should be of home." After I took a look around, I finally said: "Like I said before, where are we?" "This is Helgen," The Stormcloak replied. "I used to be sweet on a girl here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with Juniper berries mixed in. Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers made me feel so safe." I saw a boy sitting on the porch of his house, talking to his father, who, as the Stormcloak said, was named Torolf. "Time to come inside little cub." "But Papa, I want to watch the soldiers!" "Get inside...now." "Fine." Suddenly the carriage stopped against a wall. An Imperial Captain yelled "Get these prisoners out of the cart!" "Why are we stopping?" The thief said, worried. "What do you think?" The Stormcloak said. "End of the line. Come on, we shouldn't keep the gods waiting. As we got out of the carriage, my legs wobbled a bit, then I collapsed. "Easy there," said a Nord in Imperial Armor. "You haven't walked in a while, I presume." He helped me up just as the thief was getting out of the cart, saying "You've got to tell them, we weren't with you!" "Face your death with some courage, thief." The Stormcloak said. "Alright," The Nord said. "Step over to the block when we call your name." He motioned to a bloody stone slab in front of a Tower, where there were some villagers and a Priestess of Arkay. "Imperial love their damn lists." said the Stormcloak. "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." The Nord called. As I watched the gagged Jarl of Windhelm walk towards the chopping block, the Stormcloak said: "It has been an Honor, Jarl Ulfric!" "Ralof, of Riverwood." The Stormcloak, Ralof, walked over to the block, grumbling. "Lokir, of Rorikstead." The horse-thief stepped forward and said, "No, I'm not a Rebel, you can't do this!" He started to run. "Halt!" said the Imperial Captain. But Lokir kept going. "ARCHERS!" The Captain yelled. "You're not going to kill me!" Lokir shouted. I almost thought he would make it... Until he was pelted by arrows. The Imperial Captain turned to me and said "Anyone else feel like running?" I shook my head quickly. Then the Nord Imperial spoke up. "You, get over here." I walked up to him and said "Yes?" "Who are you?" "T-Torgen, of Elinhir." "A Nord from Hammerfell? You don't find that very often. You aren't on the list. What's your story?" "I was on a carriage to Riften to visit my brother when I was attacked by some Imperial soldiers who thought we were Stormcloaks. I acted calm, because I knew that if I explain to someone, they might let me go. I'm Innocent." "Don't worry, I believe you." He turned to the Captain and said "I think he's telling the truth. We should let him go. Maybe-" The Captain interrupted him. "Are you out of your mind, Hadvar? How do you know he's not lying? He could be spying for the Stormcloaks! Why do think he's not the list?" "But Captain-" "Forget the list. He goes to the block." Hadvar sighed and said "By your orders Captain." He turned to me. "I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to Hammerfell." I decided to say more. "I have a family in Dragonstar. If you could send me there, they'd appreciate it." "I will." The Imperial Captain said "Come on!" and walked towards the crowd, where everyone else was. I followed. General Tullius was standing in front of Ulfric. "Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a Hero. But a Hero doesn't use a power like the voice to MURDER his king and USURP his throne!" Ulfric grunted. "You started this war, and threw Skyrim into chaos. Now the Empire's going to put you down, and restore the peace!" Just then there was a strange sound coming from the sky, like a distant, medium-pitched roar. "What was that?" Hadvar asked. "It's nothing," General Tullius answered. "Carry on." "Yes, General Tullius!" The Captain said. She turned to the Priestess of Arkay. "Give them their last rites." She said. The Priestess started talking. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the Salt and Earth of Nirn, our beloved-" A Stormcloak interrupted. "For the love of Talos, SHUT UP and let's get this over with!" "As you wish." The Stormcloak stepped over to the block. "Come on, I haven't got all morning!" The Captain pushed him down. The headsman raised his axe. "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" Those were his last words. His head rolled off, into the basket. One voice said: "You Imperial Bastards!" Vilod yelled "JUSTICE!" Ingrid said "Death to the Stormcloaks!" Ralof said "As fearless in death as he was in life." The Captain shouted "Next, the Nord in the rags!" Then the roar came again. "There it is again. Did you hear that?" "I said, NEXT PRISONER!" Hadvar shot a sorry look at me. "Alright, prisoner. To the block. Nice and easy." I walked towards the block, trying to act calm. But by the time I had gotten there, I had broken out in sobs. It was all over, I knew it. They were going to kill me, kill Ralof, kill Ulfric, and end the Rebellion. Stupid Elves were going to rule the world. It can't get any worse, I thought. Then the Dragon attacked.
|
|
|
Tiber
Apr 26, 2012 18:49:38 GMT -5
Post by simonstormcloak on Apr 26, 2012 18:49:38 GMT -5
Once, there was a smith in Hammerfell named Vaskun. He was growing old, and a war was brewing. The year was 3E249, and Camoran the Usurper had taken over Valenwood. Vaskun was a Redguard, living in the great city of Rihad. Vaskun knew that soon, Camoran's armies would invade Hammerfell. They would sail around Cyrodill and take over Stros M'kai. Then, they would take Gilane and Taneth. Once those cities were taken, the Usurper would attack Rihad. Vaskun knew that once Rihad was taken, he would be killed. He knew he had to make one big project to carry on his spirit. So he got an Idea. He worked at the forge day and night for two weeks. Then, he finished. In front of Vaskun stood a large Automaton, made out of Bronze and Steel. He had also added Dwarven Metal to protect the machine from being destroyed. He named it Tiber, after the Great God who founded the Empire he lived in. Tiber had 250 poison arrows in each arm, making 500 in total. It was powered by a Grand Soul Gem and Two Welkynd stones. Tiber also had a large chunk of Quicksilver to make counterfeit coins. As Vaskun had predicted, Haymon Camoran's armies invaded Rihad, and many were killed, including Vaskun. But Tiber managed to get out of the city, and he fled into Cyrodill, where he got stuck in a swamp in Blackwood. Soon, the life in Tiber's soul gem faded, and the great Robot became nothing but a bronze statue in the mud. About One-Hundred and Fifty years later, in the year 433, a Breton mage found Tiber stuck in the mud. He hauled it back to his small shack in the Jeralls, and put another Grand Soul gem into Tiber (Not to mention the Two Welkynd stones). When Tiber activated, he walked straight over the mountains, leaving the mage with a quantity of 500 Quicksilver coins. Eventually, Tiber went into Skyrim, and found a family with a burnt down house in the middle of nowhere. He gave them 1000 coins, and kept walking. Tiber kept doing his kind deeds of giving money. He couldn't talk, so all he did was walk on. By the time Tiber had passed through Morrowind and Black Marsh and into Cyrodill, the Oblivion Crisis had started. Uriel Septim VII was assassinated, and Mehrunes Dagon was invading Tamriel from his plane of Oblivion. Tiber walked straight into an Oblivion gate on the Border of Elsweyr and was never seen again. Tiber killed all the Daedra in that part of Oblivion, but he was stuck in the Sigillum Sanguis, and could not find his way out. That Oblivion gate was never found, but it said that when the Crisis ended, and all the gates were closed, Tiber perished with them. People have never told of Tiber in stories, for nobody knew who he really was. And so, Tiber was soon forgotten, and he vanished from all records. Now, Tiber isn't so much as even a story, and nobody knows who he was. But people claim that sometimes, in the reclaimed city of Rihad, that they feel the spirit of the smith Vaskun, looking down at them from Aetherius.
|
|
|
Post by simonstormcloak on Apr 11, 2012 14:26:28 GMT -5
Lucian ran. He ran all the way into the woods, far away from Bravil. He wanted to die. To be released from the pain that he was in. Lucian Lachance was just an ordinary boy, living in a nice little house in Bravil. Bravil had always been his home. He had ties to that city, and had never been anywhere else but Leyawiin, on a trip with his father to trade supplies. But recently, Lucien's father had been gambling and getting drunk. He lost all his money and came home penniless. And even worse, Lucian's mother had contracted Ataxia and Rockjoint at the same time. Soon, Lucien's mother died, and he was left with no money, no food, and they couldn't pay the tax for the house, so they had to live in tents outside the city. Lucien's father taught his son to hunt with nothing more than a wooden dagger. They had food, but soon supplies became scarce, and they had to hunt deeper and deeper into the woods. Eventually, they couldn't afford to hunt so far from the city, so Lucien and his father set up a tent even deeper into the woods. Lots of animals lived in the forest, so there was plenty of food. Water wasn't a problem either, as their tent was just beside a lake. But just as things seemed okay, their luck ran out once again, as bandits attacked that night, and killed Lucien's father. Lucien hid and watched in horror as the bandits mutilated his father. And then Lucien ran into the woods. Lucian ran. He ran all the way into the woods, far away from Bravil. He wanted to die. To be released from the pain that he was in. Soon, Lucien found a small cave, where he figured he could spend the night. He went in and saw a group of 4 Bandits. Lucien was enraged, because they had the same armor as the ones that killed his father. He was mad, but he controlled his anger and snuck up on one and slit his throat. He threw his dagger at the other. He strangled the next, and when the last one aproached, Lucien grabbed the bandit's sword and stabbed him in the thigh, incapacitating him. Lucien raised his sword and finished him off with a stab in the chest. Beside the corpses were bedrolls, so Lucien lay down and slept there for the night. When he woke, there was a Hooded man standing over him. Lucien immidiately drew his dagger. The hooded man laughed. Lucien could tell by the man's voice that he was an Imperial. "Who are you?" Lucien asked. "That is not important, boy. All you need to know is that you are a cold-blooded killer." "What are you talking about? I've never killed anything but bandits and animals. I could not possibly be a murderer." "Alas, those were not bandits that you have slain, but adventurers come here to explore. did you not bother to try to talk to them?" "If I didn't kill them, they would have killed me..." "You were assuming this. If I wanted to avenge these... People, you'd be dead already." "But the armor..." "Merely a coincidence." "Well then, why do you want me?" "To recruit you." Recruit me? For what?" "For our family. A very... dysfunctional family." But-" "But nothing, just hear me out. To join our family, you must go to Fort Scinia. There, you will find a man named Gran Struthe. He has provoked the wrath of Sithis, and for that he must die." Lucian was astounded, for he knew at once which faction the hooded man represented: "Your're from the Dark Brotherhood! You're a Murderer! Why would I trust you?" "Your whole family is dead, child. You have nobody left in your life, and when I offer you a new life, a new home, you refuse? You have no home, no friends, and no food. And you refuse my offer of help? Alright. I'll take my leave now. But remember: the Night Mother is watching you. If you ever think to accept my offer, then kill Gran Struthe. I will say again: the Night Mother is watching you." And with that, the Hooded Assassin vanished. Lucian knew what to do next. That night, he stole a horse from the stable outside Bravil. He went to Cheydinhal, bought supplies with the money he had stolen from the citizens, and rode east to Fort Scinia. There, he found food, armor, and weapons. He put them to good use, killing Bandits, Zombies, Rats, and pretty much everything that dared attack him. Eventually, he found Gran Struthe. He snuck up behind him, slit his throat, and got out of the Fort as fast as he could. He went back to the cave that he slept in the night before, and had some rest. When Lucian awoke, he was no longer in the cave, but in a small room with sandstone walls and a disfigured statue. "Where am I?" Lucian shouted. "You are under the Lucky Old Lady." A voice said. Lucian's Father had told him about the Lucky Old Lady. You make a wish, kiss the statue, and your wish is supposed to come true. It didn't work for Lucian's father, as he had been murdered and left for the wolves by bandits. A group of hooded figures came out of the shadows, and the voice said: "I am the Night Mother. Welcome to the Dark Brotherhood."
|
|
|
Post by simonstormcloak on Apr 9, 2012 19:36:04 GMT -5
Runilt was a Dark Elf living in Windhelm. Like all Dunmer in Windhelm, he lived in a shabby little house in the Gray Quarter. Dark Elves like him were not trusted in Windhelm, because the Nords who lived there had an ongoing hatred for elves ever since the Great War. The same went for the Argonians, but instead of living in shabby houses in the Gray Quarter, Argonians were forced to live on the docks, with no roof. One night Runil was at the new Gnisis Cornerclub talking to his friend Aval Atheron when there was a commotion outside. Runilt, Aval, the inkeeper Ambarys Rendar and his assistant Malthyr Elenil rushed outside and found Rolff Stone-Fist beating up Revyn Sadri. "You stupid little Elves never should have come here! NEVER!" Revyn screamed in pain as Rolff pulled out his dagger. But as he was about to kill Revyn, Runilt intervened and punched Rolff in the stomach. Rolff staggered a bit, then got up and stabbed Runilt in the chest. Runilt fell to the floor just as a guard came, knocked out Rolff, and started to haul him off to the dungeon. Aval and Ambarys helped up Revyn, while Malthyr stayed by Runilt's side. Two more guards came and bandaged him up, and Runilt fainted from the pain. They picked him up, then brought him to Helgird, a priestess of Arkay. She used as many healing spells as she could, but Runilt would not recover. After two days of pain and agony, Runilt died. He was embalmed but not put in the Hall of the Dead. All the Dark Elves in the Gray Quarter honored him by giving him a Traditional Funeral. Even Ulfric Stormcloak came to pay his respects to a hero who sacrificed his life to save a friend in need. He was buried just outside Windhelm in a marked grave. Rolff was temporarily let out of prison to pay his respects, but all he did was spit on the grave and get a longer sentence. The Dark Elves in the Gray Quarter felt that Runilt should be honored more than that. They believed that Skyrim was home to more than just Nords. The Dunmer, Led by Revyn Sadri, rallied the Argonians and started a rebellion in Windhelm. They did not seek to overthrow Ulfric and the Nords, but to be treated equally. Many Nord Citizens of Windhelm admired their cause, but just as many opposed it. Brunwulf Free-Winter convinced many people to help the Dunmer and Argonians, but others, such as Rolff Stone-Fist (After he was let out of prison) and Angrenor Once-Honored rallied people against the Rebellion. Ulfric Vowed not to take part in this, that he would just keep the peace. His steward Jorleif favored the Dunmer, along with his bodyguard, Galmar Stone-Fist (Rolff's brother). Eventually, the Dunmer protested outside the Palace of the Kings, and Ulfric decided to let the Argonians into the city, and let them move into the Gray Quarter, which was now renamed the Snow Quarter, and was renovated to make it a fit place to live in. The Dunmer were finally allowed to live outside the Snow Quarter. And Windhelm was finally a nice place, All because one Dark Elf named Runilt sacrificed his life to save a friend in need.
|
|
|
Post by simonstormcloak on Apr 7, 2012 19:14:39 GMT -5
"RUN!" "HELP!" Ysgramor ran for his life, stopping only every once in a while to catch his breath. He ran all the way through Saarthal, looking for his sons, Yngol and Ylgar. Finally, he found Ylgar fighting off three Falmer. Ysgramor cut them down with his axe, Wuuthrad, and said to Ylgar: "Son, where is Yngol? I have not seen him anywhere! "I don't know, Father!" Replied Ylgar. "Last I saw, he was in the Alchemy lab helping Fuldar with his new potion." "Well then I need to find him! Follow me!" Ylgar followed Ysgramor into the Alchemy Lab, slaying 6 Elves in the process, only to find a Falmer standing over the dead body of Fuldar Swiftbrew. Ylgar sliced the Falmer's head off, and Yngol rushed into the room. "Father, what's going on? I- Oh, no. Fuldar!" "There is no time to weep, we must leave now!" Ysgramor, with both of his sons, went to the exit, and found a few Falmer at the doors. They were quickly taken out, and Ysgramor, Ylgar, and Yngol fled from the burning city of Saarthal. When the Family reached water, only one longboat was left, as the Falmer had sunk and burned the rest. Ysgramor steered the boat, while Ylgar and Yngol stood guard. After what seemed like hours, they hit land, and the longboat sunk. The water was shallow enough for everyone to get onto land with ease, and Ysgramor and his sons set up a tent out of the supplies left, and ate a Goat for dinner. Then the family went to sleep. When Yngol woke up, the first thing he saw was a city. He didn't know which city it was, but he woke up Ylgar and Ysgramor. "Father, look! A city!" Ysgramor got up at once and observed the land around him. "Son," He said,"We are home. We are in Atmora.
|
|