incotheghost
The Lore Library
Welcome to the library, I'm Inco, the librarian. Here you will find blog posts concerning lore and stories told in video games, as well as stories I may tell myself. Coffee machine is in the corner, vending machine out front, and there's always an open spot on the couch. Enjoy your stay!
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Have Faith In The Rot
Chapter 1, part 3
The cold wind yet again grabbed them tightly. A few pearls of sweat ran across Fariss’ forehead, having just started to adjust to the heat of the forge. A few raindrops replaced them shortly, as the clouds grew tighter above them.
“Oh for crying out loud,” Captain Hollander cursed, “A terrible night for rain.”
“How so, sir?” Fariss questioned, his footsteps growing muddy by the minute.
“We have a leak in our roof at home, and the carpenter is scheduled for tomorrow.” Hollander continued, chuckling deeply at the terrible timing.
“Your home? You live nearby?” Fariss eyes lit up slightly, “Would you tell me about your home, sir?” The idea of home felt so far-fetched for him at that minute. Walking through the mud in the cold rain. With barely a tree around.
“Of course,” Hollander responded, a smile sneaking onto his face. “It’s a lovely little cottage in the closest woods. About two kilometers down the mountain from here. It’s not much, but it’s our home.”
Fariss was enjoying the moment, “‘Our home,’ sir? I thought the paladins were sworn to the cause and none else. Who do you live with?”
The captain looked Fariss in the eyes with a smile: “You know your homework, recruit. Good job!” Hollander rested a heavy hand on Fariss’ shoulder in affirmation. “That is true. I live there with another captain, my assigned partner from when I joined many, many years ago.”
“Captain Arian, a master of the tome as much as I am of the sword. Her and I have fought more battles together than I can count, and her expertise of the tome has saved my life too many times as well.” Hollander told with clear pride in his voice. Proud of what they had achieved, proud of calling her a friend, and proud most of all for surviving this many years.
“But do not let that fool you!” Hollander continued, chiming, “She has bested me in sparring more times than I would like to admit. One of our best.”
“Wow,” Fariss could barely hide the glee he felt hearing the story. “Iit sounds like you two have seen a thing or two. I can understand why you chose to live together, sir”
Hollander spread out his arms and gestured to the lot they were standing in. “This encampment was one of the largest in the country back when it was built. Now with so little need for warfare, it has been reduced to just what you see.”
A sigh left this mouth. “Of course it is very nice to not need such armaments anymore, but it does sadden me to see what it has been reduced to.”
Fariss nodded, understanding the captain’s troubles. The rain was falling less and less. As Fariss looked up to inspect the dwindling clouds, a sign caught his eye. A sign with the symbol of a book and quill.
“Is that the library, sir?” Fariss called to Hollander
“That, it is, recruit, good eye! You had me all in my own head there.” Hollander laughed as they approached the building.
In front of them was a grand wooden building. Fariss was astonished at the size of the library, dwarfing the great town hall of his hometown. The library was supported by large pillars, decorated with shields of past battles. Ornate carvings covered the doors and windows. Some for decoration, and some being runes of protection. The two pushed the great, heavy oak doors open and immediately felt the dead silence of the library. Stepping just inside, the sound of the stopping rain disappeared fast behind them.
Heavy thumps sounded as Captain Hollander walked precisely up to the front desk. before he could even open his mouth, a shriveled branch swung out from between the shelves. Fariss stood in shock as he witnessed a less-than-human being appear in front of him. The sounds of roots crackling and leaves rustling followed as the creature of wood walked up to the captain.
The captain rested his hand on top of his head, and nodded at the creature to greet it. A low shriek sounded from the creature as it did a little jump. It seemed to wait for the next orders from the captain.
“Good evening, Snivilet, I am sorry to interrupt you this late.” Captain Hollander spoke with a broad smile. Hand still resting on his head.
Snivilet jumped a few more times, and mimicked the captain’s gesture. To the best of its abilities. A twig on its arm got slightly tangled in the crown, causing Snivilet to make a frustrated squeak. Yet it still stood there, awaiting more orders from the captain.
Captain Hollander slowly lowered his hand, and returned it to his side yet again. “I told you the other day of our emergency recruit, I want you to meet Fariss, newest member of the order.” Captain Hollander gestured to Fariss and stood to the side.
Snivilet jumped up and rushed to Fariss. Even without a face, it was clear to see the creature was excited to meet someone new. Snivilet tried to greet Fariss by bringing its arm to its head, but it realized its arm was already stuck to its crown. Letting out a low growl of annoyance, Snivilet tried to pull its arm loose, to no avail.
Before Fariss offered to help, Snivilet had a brilliant idea. If one arm was stuck, it could still use another. Snivelet raised its other arm above its head and bowed lightly at Fariss, inadvertently making an arc, and an improper greeting. But that did not matter. Fariss mimicked the greeting, and Snivilet jumped yet again, taking a moment to finally untangle itself.
Captain Hollander approached Fariss over the sounds of the struggling Snivilet. “That’s Snivilet, a small branchling. Fickle creatures created by paladins, mostly to be used for libraries.” Hollander explained, keeping an eye on Snivilet.
“Why are they used for libraries, sir?” Fariss asked, trying to not get distracted by Snivilet getting more and more tangled.
“They are made of wood, as you can see,” The captain explained, gesturing at the, now angry, tangle of branches. “And because of that, they have a special magical connection with everything wooden. Snivilet here knows every book in this library perfectly, and keeps them in perfect shape. It even carved the doors and windows itself.”
“Wow, that is incredible!” Fariss exclaimed, looking around in awe. “Who made this one, sir?”
“That would be me.” The captain answered with a smile on his face. “Twenty years ago when I first arrived at this encampment with captain Arian, my first task was to create our designated librarian, and so I created Snivilet.”
Both Captain Hollander and Fariss were watching Snivilet closely, as the little branchling got more and more tangled as it was trying to free itself by growing new appendages. Stumbling about on the wooden floor, it could be easily mistaken for an angry, sentient tumbleweed.
“Should we... help him, sir?” Fariss asked worriedly.
“Maybe we should.” The captain responded with a grin. “Alright Snivilet, hold still now. We’re gonna do the usual.”
In an instant, the growling shrubbery ground to a halt. To the best of its abilities it turned to the captain, chirping a little melody.
“One day you’ll have to learn to do this by yourself, Snivilet. You let your own branches get the better of you.” Captain Hollander spoke softly to Snivilet, as he unpocketed a small gardening knife. Carefully he began trimming Snivilet’s wild branches, reducing it to no more than a stem.
#Book#OC#Original#Original Content#Story#Fantasy#Dark fantasy#Paladin#Writing#Have Faith in The Rot#HFITR Chapter 1#HFITR Chapter 1-3#HFITR#original work#First draft
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the only way to overcome unrealistic beauty standards and botox culture and the fear of aging is to start living our lives as fully violently and lovingly as possible. be human on purpose
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Have Faith in The Rot
Chapter 1, part 2
“Sir.” Fariss responded, sounding yet more unsure. A thousand thoughts were racing through his head, as the two went out to the courtyard.
The air bit at their ears, as they walked through the outpost. The nights were getting colder and colder, Even with winter far away. A sign of the dark times the world was witnessing.
“So, Fariss, tell me,” Captain Hollander began, in an unusually informal tone, “You grew up in Aremdil, far out in the countryside to the north. What was it like there?”
Fariss stumbled over the captain’s now-friendly attitude, but a sparkle grew in his eyes.
“Well, sir, I..,” Fariss began, taking a moment to collect his thoughts, “..it was incredible, captain. Absolutely beautiful!”
Not noticing the captain cracking a smile, Fariss continued.
“I lived in a small wooden cottage, with my ma and pa and siblings. in the reaches of the forest. And this forest, captain, the greenes, lushest trees. We had a small farm, with our own livestock. And crops too!”
Fariss was beaming as he spoke of his home life. All the wonders of the north. Captain Hollander listened to every single word and took them in. Fariss went on, about hunting with his father, sparring with his brother and sister. Living the hard, but perfect life.
“Tell me, then,” Captain Hollander laid a hand on Fariss’ shoulder, “If life at home was so good, why did you decide to leave and join the order?”
Fariss’ expression sank a little, his posture breaking slightly. “Well, sir, you see… We lived very secluded, and tended to ourselves. So we had very little money. So when pa got sick, we had to find a way to afford his treatment.”
He looked up at the captain. The stinging cold wind forced him to narrow his eyes.
“I went into town to see if I could be of help anywhere, and I saw one of your men. I thought to myself ‘I know how to use a sword,’” Fariss quipped, in a mocking tone, “And I went to ask for a recruitment officer. One thing led to another, and now I am here.”
“A noble cause,” Captain Hollander answered, in his most orderly tone, “And speaking of here, we’re at the armory, see?”
Fariss looked up with awe at the giant building in front of him. Misshapen and battered, like it was carved from a piece of a mountain. More exhaust pipes littered on the sides, than there were trees by Fariss’ home. Even through the meter-thick walls, the two could hear the banging of metal inside. Was this all really just for an encampment? How does the forge look in the capital? Fariss wondered.
Entering the forge, the change from the cold wind to the heat of the furnace, almost knocked the two off their feet. Both taking a step back and cursing at the sudden change. They could almost see the redness in the air itself, from the heat. The sizzling of hot metal and banging of hammers filled the room. Fariss struggled to keep his bearings, but followed close by as the captain approached the counter. Leaning on what could only be described as a battered and rusted iron block, the captain hailed the forge master to the counter.
Forge master Jones was up in his years, nobody could deny that, but he was yet revered for his smithing skills. Having seen his part of life, and being left scarred and with just one eye remaining, Jones always brought an attitude to the table, yet he was loyal as long as the sun shined.
“Jones! Can we borrow you for a moment?” the captain bellowed. Within moments the forge master had put the entire forge on pause. It was only him at work, after all.
The forge master looked at Captain Hollander, adjusting his clearly custom made goggles and apron, “Evening captain! What can I do for you sir?”
“Evening Jones! Good to see you in your ever shining mood.” Captain Hollander responded, sharing a salute with the forge master. “We are here to pick up some equipment for our new recruit here.”
“A new recruit? You look no more than a page to me, kid. What’s your name?” Jones said with a sharp tone.
“Uhh… recruit Fariss Jute, sir.” Fariss responded, shrinking under the forge master’s gaze.
“Jute? An odd name, where’d you get that? You the wound-up type?” Jones cocked an eyebrow above his missing eye.
“Both of uh… my grandmothers were famous local seamstresses. And had a shared love for the coarseness of jute. When my ma and pa took the oath of entwinement, they took the last name Jute, in their parents’ honor.” Realizing that the forge master was already tired of the story, Fariss paced a few steps backwards, slowly.
Jones turned to Captain Hollander, scoffing that Fariss did not catch his joke: “Does he always talk this much?”
“I would not know, he only just arrived today, but he tells great stories. Reminds me of home.” the captain responded with a low hearty laugh.
“Only just arrived… Ohh, he’s that recruit. Oh poor boy,” the forge master shook his head as he turned again to Fariss, “I have your equipment right here. Sword… scabbard… shield with strap… oh and special issue for you, an engraved shortbow.”
“Tha-” Fariss got interrupted by the forge master, rummaging in a new box.
“Shut it, I’m not done yet.” The forgemaster held his hand up, “Let’s see here… Oh by the light, I know this armor. Take it off my hands please.”
Jones placed a grand cuirass of golden and blue colours on the counter, and a matching pair of pauldrons. Each shoulder in the shape of an eagle’s head. A flurry of blue feathers crowning the eagle.
Fariss took a closer look at the cuirass. There was an indentation on the right side of the chest, with two pierced holes in the middle. Fitting to where the medal had been on the recruiter’s armor. “Do all paladins get a medal with a designated sigil?” Fariss thought.
Fariss snapped out of his head and began picking each piece up carefully, stashing where he was taught. Sword on the side. Shield on the back. Bow over the right shoulder.
“Why was he issued a bow?” Captain Hollander asked with confusion.
“I don’t know, sir, bows are usually exclusive to the front line paladins.” Jones shrugged.
“Interesting,” the captain grumbled, holding his chin, “Well, that is of little concern now. Thank you Jones, good evening!”
“You too, sir!” Jones shouted as he returned to the blazing forge.
Captain Hollander ushered Fariss outside, and directed him towards the library. Fariss looked dumbfounded by all that just happened as they walked along.
#Book#OC#Original#Original Content#Story#Fantasy#Dark fantasy#Paladin#Writing#Have Faith in The Rot#HFITR Chapter 1#HFITR Chapter 1-2#HFITR#original work#First draft
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Have Faith in The Rot
Hello folks! This is something quite large. I have accidentally begun writing a book.
Accidentally? How do you accidentally write a book?
Well you see, it was only supposed to be a short story at about 10 pages, a little longer than my usual stuff, but then I got caught up in it, and what was meant to be a 1-page introduction, is now looking to close at about a 20-page first chapter. So why not share it with you lot?
You will only get the first draft version here, if it pick up enough traction, I will contemplate releasing a finished product in a more official manner, but that doesn't mean you're getting skimped, there's a lot incoming!
Enjoy!
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Chapter 1: A Final Roll-Call
“Recruit Fariss, you’re up next!” Captain Hollander bellowed with a staggering authority.
Fariss sat in his assigned bed. An old worn piece of oak, with only the most ragged of linen to use for covers. With barely a chance to get settled before he was already getting called on. He rose from his bed, carefully, and stood before Captain Hollander.
A large man, radiating with stoicism and poise. A man who clearly had seen his share of battles. Gold and red trimmed armor, with his hand always resting on the hilt of his sword. On the right side of his chest, a medal was pinned to his armor, showing the symbol of an open tome.
“Recruit Fariss, honored to mission for the order, sir!” Fariss responded, his voice shaking from thick anticipation in the room. He could barely contain his heart in his chest. Fariss tried to suppress the onset adrenaline and anxiety from being called on, yet the captain saw right through him.
Captain Hollander looked Fariss directly in the eye. Sharing a moment of seriousness, and a sense of forgiveness. Captain Hollander knew where he was sending Feriss, and he knew that Fariss was far too inexperienced.
“Recruit Fariss,” Captain Hollander continued, less imposing, “You have been selected for this mission of our order. Whether you wish to accept or refuse, there is no change in the outcome. At daybreak, in the morning, a carriage will arrive. You are ordered to bring your most essential belongings only, and stand at the ready for the caravan. This mission is of highest priority, and you are the only available paladin. If you fail to show, you will be hunted down and brought before The Judicator. Is your assignment understood?”
Captain Hollander’s gaze fell from Fariss’. As if to say ‘I am doing this with no honor,’ and Fariss stood still, frozen in time, by these orders. Fariss was nothing more than a new trainee to the Order of Justice. Only given the rank of a proper recruit, because only few paladins remained. The order was desperate for manpower.
“...Y- Yes sir! I venture by the light, for the light!” Fariss stammered. Petrified of what was to come in the morning.
Captain Hollander reduced his sharp eye, loosened his authoritative shoulders, and breathed deep. “Sit,” he commanded Fariss, “There are some things we need to run through first.”
Gently, the two paladins sat on opposing beds, facing each other. Captain Hollander wished nothing more in that moment, than to order Fariss to run. To run as far and fast as he could. But the orders were right and true, and the light was steadfast. Even if Fariss was released on orders of Captain hollander, he would yet be hunted.
“Have you had a chance to receive your supplies yet?” Captain Hollander asked gently.
“Only the recruit-issued armor. My sword, shield, and tome are awaiting pickup, sir.” Fariss responded, sheepishly. Feeling inadequate that he had not even collected his equipment yet.
“Worry not,” Captain Hollander eased, almost in a whisper, “Special occasion today, I’ll accompany you to the armory and the library. I need to collect some things for myself.” Fariss’ eyes beamed a little, but before he could show his gratitude, the captain continued.
“You’re from the countryside. So I assume you have experience with a sword, yes?” Fariss nodded, and Captan Hollander continued: Then forget about the training dummy tonight. What I need right now, is for you to study the tome as much as possible, before getting some rest. And studying it further on the carriage in the morning.”
Fariss was taken aback by these orders. Why was the tome that important? Fariss knew little beforehand about paladins. The only he had ever seen was the recruiter who passed by his hometown, with that eye-catching medal in the shape of a shield. But if the captain ordered this, he would be sure to follow.
“Come,” Captain Hollander beckoned, as he stood up from the bed, “walk with me, and tell me a little about yourself. And I’ll tell you about what the Order of Justice stands for.”
#Book#OC#Original#Original Content#Story#Fantasy#Dark fantasy#Paladin#Writing#Have Faith in The Rot#HFITR Chapter 1#HFITR Chapter 1-1#HFITR#original work#First Draft
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Dear OSHA Snom, what is the most outrageous violation against snomkind you have seen?
cc .)_)__\ the put icemelt on the sidewalk in front of the SNOM ONLY DOOR like 6 times
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Rusted Silver
It happened far in the north, at Silver Shore. It happened without warning. It happened… so fast.
We were a nation of peace, uniting all lords of mankind under treaty. A treaty that would ensure our safety after being plagued by wars for too long. On the day of the signing, feeling almost like a blessing, our waters became clear. Muddied no more, and now healthy for the people. And the bone-filled seabed became the whitest of sand, shining back the dawn upon us. We named it Silver Shore, for its peaceful majesty.
The woodfolk, loyal as ever, warned us of something stirring. Trees were dying in unusual patterns. So we readied our defenses and steeled our minds, in preparation for whatever was coming. I was one of the scouts, sent to look for nearby signs of danger. My kind were always scouts, in thanks to our agile bodies, and great wings. We were few left, but we were proud.
We readied up for the first trip. I was assigned to accompany Alred in this outing. The one who first brought me to Silver Shore. Both of us, battered and beaten from the warfront. And since, he has had my back better than no other. I greeted him with a friendly clap on his wings, but remained serious in tone. We both knew that preparation was useless against an unknown danger.
Tour after tour, we flew. Soaring the skies and keeping a watchful eye. It must have been weeks, while the woodfolk warned of the danger growing greater. No longer were only the trees dying, rocks were crumbling too, and dead fish washed up in yet greater numbers.
Alred and I landed in a secluded area. He was contemplating flying away while we had the chance. We would not survive what was coming, we both knew that well. Deserting would give us a fighting chance. Or at least a week longer to live.
The idea was tempting. I did not want to die, none of us did. But we were bound by honoring the treaty. Protection at all costs. Crestfallen, Alred agreed to continue our work. At least for the time.
More calamities occurred. Every day gets harsher, as nature falls around us. Something horrible is stirring. Yet out of sight. Our crops have died. Livestock has fallen to plagues. The dirt hardened. There was no more that could be taken from us, other than ourselves. The sky has even darkened. I have not seen the light of day for weeks.
I felt something. Seems every one of my kind did. A pulsing feeling moving through my wings. We leapt to high places to look around, yet we saw nothing.
Then the sky cracked.
Like split in two, the great darkness that has taken our sky, suffered a great rift. As if splitting in half. No more than seconds had gone by before the darkness was gone completely, and we were blinded by the return of light.
Our joy was short-lived, however. As my eyes adjusted, I witnessed a great beast fall upon us. Large as a mountain, carried by six wings that were woven by pure dark. Descending upon our land, I saw panic spread in the faces of my fellow people. Whenever the beast swung its wings, death followed. I grew ever weaker, as I saw my friends be torn apart by the inconceivable force of the wings.
My town lies dead. I do not. Why did I live? The earth was blackened around me, sizzling with death, yet there I stood.
My wings are broken, but I must reach the kingdom. I have written this letter to warn of coming times. I will find a way to deliver it before I arrive.
The land is dying. Silver Shore is no more, reddened and blackened by the powers of death. The only waters left lie still with a deep orange mud. We must never return.
#Fantasy#dark fantasy#OC#story#storytelling#apocalyptic fiction#monster#horror#original#Original Work#I spent my workday on this rather than actual work#I watched LOTR for the first time and I am inspired
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The knight and the would-be witch
An honorable and determined knight was exploring to get the lay of the land. Catches the whim of these bewitched woods, which the townsfolk claim have people disappearing frequently. The story goes that a witch lives in the woods and takes the people for sadistic rituals.
Curiosity gets the better of him, and he decides to explore these cursed woods. Immediately running into a thick fog, unable to see more than a few meters ahead. Noticing a faintly glowing light in the distance, he treks on. Pushing through magical whispers and sightless roads. Reaching the light, he sees a simple totem. Rudimentary magic, but enough to maintain the spell. He goes to break it, and as the wood clatters on the forest floor, the fog lifts in the area.
Throughout the woods he finds several more totems, breaking each one and lifting the fog. A path to a small hut is revealed though some overgrown bushes, and he decides to go near. Spotting a solemn girl wandering the yard, watering a myriad of colourful, magical flowers. Attempting to introduce himself, he gets little to no response from the girl. Not because she does not care, but because she is not made for interaction. He judges from her movements that she must be one of the magical pawns that people speak of every now and then. He has seen them before, aiding other adventurers, but they are otherwise incapable of independence.
Wondering why she is in these woods all alone, and how she is a pawn without a master, he decides to watch over her. Even if she is not a pawn admitted to him, he will keep an eye out until trace of the original master is found. After some weeks of visiting and helping her out, he would grow attached to her, and she of him despite her inability to show it. Pawns are not supposed to have feelings, after all.
Returning to the nearby town one day, he happens upon a frightening sight. A witch hunt is under way. A guard noticed that the fogs had disappeared, and began to round up townsfolk to hunt down the witch. Worried for his friend the night hurried back to the hut in the woods, only to find that the group in town, was the second group. The first group had already arrived, ready to burn down everything. Calling her name, the pawn felt a sense of threat, and in a moment activated several golems that lied dormant in the yard.
Golems and knight, fighting with all of their beings to protect the pawn that is not meant to be. Focusing on the townsfolk in the yard, they miss the captain sneaking his way to the hut, about to break down the door. A scream pierces the forest and everything grinds to a halt. The knight, realizing what is going on, sprints to the hut hoping that he is no too late. There he sees the captain with his sword to her throat, cursing her with every breath he takes. In a fit of rage, the knight draws his own blood soaked sword and charges the captain. Plunging the sword deep in the captain's side, exiting his left shoulder, scolding him for attacking a girl who cannot even defend herself.
The captains falls, and the woods grow quiet. The golems return to their dormant positions, but one who had its magic broken and is no more than rubble. Retrieving his sword from the body, the knight just now realizes what he almost lost. He stumbles to embrace the girl, tears streaming, and sees for the first time a smile on her face.
Taking his hand, and speaking as simple as ever, the pawn leads the knight to a cave, previously blocked by the now fallen golem. Magic plants and lights create a flurry of energies as they travel through. At the end she shows him the truth. She has no master, as her master died, and bestowed their soul to her. Like an infant, she knows not how to live, but she is now learning, thanks to the knight.
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I wrote this quite a bit ago, inspired by a questline from Dragon’s Dogma, which I absolutely adore. Hope you all enjoy too!
And I swear there’s no ill intent with her being a “pawn” in lack of a “master” that’s just the circumstances of her in the game. Pawns are *usually* human-like creatures that lack free will, whose only goal is to serve adventurers, calling them “masters.” They come in all shapes, sizes, races, and genders.
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Sudden inspiration - Legacy of The Being itself.
Bhoth was born, by immortality, to pursue inevitability. Created and shaped by a being beyond their knowledge, they were created as nothing more than a tool for destruction. And so they fulfilled their life with pleasure. Sowing the seeds of despair and darkness amongst every single mortal creature. Through every single time. In every single place. While not ultimate, their influence from beyond was undeniable, and little by little, worlds fell apart and realms torn asunder and stitched together in unreasonable ways. All without any creature ever knowing, for how could they ever know the influences of that which they cannot comprehend?
Bhoth was an artist, however. They questioned not their need for destruction, nor why they were created. With less than a care for the world, they sought only to destroy in the most beautiful of ways. The universe was their canvas, and every single death, their ink. Through various means, they sought the most entertaining destruction. Influence a peasant to commit a coup. Crumble mountains by shaking the earth beneath them. Tear open an incomprehensible wound in the realm, and scatter it to the winds. Betrayals, cults, extraplanar crises, magic, brutality, destruction that found place in less than a second, destruction that made each being writhe for millennia. All in the name of creating Bhoth's finest piece of art.
A signature was left in each world, for every sundering, and every mutilation of nature, they crated their signature to exist in the world. A single, amazingly beautiful, perfect white pearl. For what reason, they knew not, they had always done such, and always would. A badge of honor. Not that it mattered. The pearls could not be touched for as long as they remained within a living nature, and there was nothing to touch it in a dead realm.
Until one day, this lowly prince found a pearl. Not pure of heart, no great destiny. But none the less, he managed to grasp the pearl, and it sought itself inside his hand, gaining him a piece of Bhoth.
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Enderal: Forgotten stories - The Adventure of Aldyne, chapter 2: The Might of My Ancestors
(SPOILERS FOR THE GAME ENDERAL: FORGOTTEN STORIES AHEAD)
I took in my surroundings. I was on a small island in the middle of an endless ocean, in an endless night. All I could see beyond my platform were unnatural sight of floating ruins, immovable by gravity, and above me a spectrum of all colours, forming a sky I could not believe. Nothing made sense.
Five pillars stood around me on the tiny platform I awoke on. I walked up to each one, inspecting it. There was pillar, glowing red. It looked like a hammer breaking a mountain. Just by focusing on the pillar I felt myself getting stronger. There was a second pillar, glowing green. Digging out of the very ground like the tips of needles. Walking nearer I felt light disappear and shadows envelop, as if I, myself, was becoming one with them. There was a third pillar that, in contrast to the others, felt like it was swallowing light. Looking like a looming shadow, blocking out the light. The closer I went to it, the more my vision blackened. I heard the cries of wolves and pleads of insanity. The was a fourth pillar, glowing blue. The very fine and orderly cut almost looked like stacks of books. Inspecting closer I felt my mind expand as sparks flew between my fingers. And there was a final fifth pillar, glowing a deep purple. It looked unnatural, hellish, like something that did not belong. Walking closer I heard cries of anguish from tortured souls, forced to do bidding against their will.
Stepping back to the center, I felt a pull. Maybe it was my eternal curiosity and seeking for knowledge, or maybe it was the aeternian blood in me. In whatever case, I felt a calling for the blue pillar. Laying my hand upon it, it showed me visions of my destiny; a powerful and feared sorcerer that would bring a change for the better. I laid my hand on the pillar and felt a surge unlike anything I had ever experienced before. I felt… free. Wisdom and mana ran coursing through my veins. This was my calling.
Having made a connection with one of the pillars, I stepped back yet again and pondered my way out. Thinking back to how I got here I recalled being instructed to breathe. And so, I did. Yet again. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply.
I heard something, waves! I heard nature. Wind, birds, water splashing! I opened my eyes and awoke to myself being soaked at the waterfront. This must be where I had initially ended up after being tossed overboard. I stood up briefly only to stumble forwards. My entire body was hurting, and my head was a mess. I have no idea where I was but at least there was a path ahead I could follow. Meaning there must be people nearby.
At least I hoped there would be. My hopes started to crumble when I already found a skeleton a few meters ahead of me. Poor soul looked to be an old miner who met their demise and never was found. I collected their stuff on the thought they were of no more use to them, and I walked ahead. Walking to an encampment that looked eerily familiar. Turning a corner, I was attacked by two rats, the last thing I need at that time. I grabbed hold if the pickaxe I found with the skeleton and began swinging. Little bastards managed to get a good few nibbles before I put them down.
Looking up I saw where they came from. I stood before and entrance to an old, abandoned temple. Now in ruins. With nowhere else to go, I gripped the pickaxe fast and went inside.
Heading inside it grew dark almost instantly. I struck alight the torch I found by the miner as well and began exploring. My feet quickly became soaked in the rive running thorough the temple. Stepping into the first room I was welcomed by something outlandish. A large sphere glowing a bright purple, from behind which I heard the mellow tune of a music box. A melancholic song was playing. Beneath the sphere I saw more skeletons, gripping yet more mining equipment. I assumed they had to have been part of the same expedition. In-between the bones I found a little key with an unusual shape, and I began looking for a place it would fit. And so, I spotted a little statue with a gaping hole in it. Figured that must be where the key went and put it inside. I heard a click, a clack, a tick, and a lot of whirring began as stone platforms began to raise from the small river flowing through the room.
With a little difficulty I slowly scaled the platforms and moved through a hallway glowing a soft blue. Either that, or this place was making me see things. The blue was quickly swallowed by the orange burn of my torch, and shortly after I made it to a crossroads. I stood, thinking about what way to go. The way ahead I could not see a thing. To the left of me was what I could only describe as borealis. And to the right was a room where the river was flowing down. Hoping to find another entrance, or a way out to another side, I followed the river. I followed it all the way to the bottom of the room, where I realized that I would not be able to get outside though the tiny crack the water flowed through.
Turning around I scanned the room and found a platform with a pedestal. I walked to the pedestal and was amazed by the pieces of metal that were scattered. Now, I was never adept in smithing, but this metal and these engravings were something I was sure I had never seen before. Amidst the pieces was a key that I decided to take with me, and I turned around back to the crossroads.
Standing at the crossroads I decided to move towards the borealis. Which I soon discovered were glowing crystals emitting intense amounts of magic. Every step I took towards the table in the middle of the room, I was struck with waves of pain.
Fighting through it, I quickly grabbed what I could, and ran out of reach of the crystals again. I inspected the items I had grabbed and found an old mage’s robe, a scroll to heal myself, and a book. Not just a book, a tome. With haste I tossed the pages open to learn the arcane secrets within, and to very fruitful results. I learnt of the spell known as “grounding”. Seemingly novice level but I did not care. I was ecstatic at the though of learning my first spell.
I read thoroughly and did as the book instructed. Cleared my mind, felt the earth and energy. Stretching out my arm I felt a surge, a tingling sensation turned prickling. As I heard the surge escape my hand, I opened my eyes in astonishment to see lightning itself coursing from me. I had a new weapon now, and I could begin living up to my ancestors’ history and talents.
Returning to the crossroads I went the final path. As it bent and weaved, I eventually wound up at an abandoned encampment. Judging from the skeletons nearby, it was not abandoned willfully. Despite the macabre scene, I decided it best for myself to have a nap.
Same nightmare as usual.
I woke up to the sound of the nearby running water. Gathered my bearings and continued on, where I immediately ran into a door. Constructed of the same material and decorated with eh same engraving as the metal parts I found before. Heading deeper and deeper into the temple I could not help but feel yet more and more alone. There were no sounds here, and despite being alone so far, everything just felt emptier.
I found yet another door, this one remarkably grander than the others. Pushing the heavy doors open, I enter a room lit up by a broken ceiling, just as my torch flickers out. Great timing there. The light from the crack highlighted a great pit in the floor, within was what looked to be an ancient machine. Something I had never seen before, however, the closer I got to it, the more I got this sinking feeling in my chest that I knew what this was. That I knew what it did. A feeling that I just could not shake.
I went to look around the room. Ancient place full of unrecognizable things from ages past. All now covered in dirt and moss. In the crevice where the machine was, I found a broken door leading to a stream of water. A small cave, gently lit up by the nearby plant life. I stumbled upon a waterwheel blocking my path to the outside, surrounded by yet more corpses. I wondered heavily what had actually taken place within this temple.
A small wooden construction was next to the water wheel. Inside which there was yet another spell tome. I decided to wait with that one however, as my head was very tired from the previous one. Above the tome I found a valve. I turned it and heard a series of mechanical noises as I saw the water wheel rise, allowing me to pass under it. I continued carefully. I heard odd noises from the next room over.
The odd noises quickly gained a host as I discovered an elemental right ahead of me, and much to my disliking, it had discovered me too. Charging at me I back up and began to the best of my abilities to shock it, each shock feeling like a little more power leaving me. Eventually I could not do it anymore, but the hulk was still standing, swinging with wild abandon! I took hold of my pickaxe yet again and returned swings. A few well-placed hits and a lot of pain ensued. In the nick of time, I landed the final hit on the elemental, embedding the pickaxe in its barely existing skull. It was stuck in there tight. I had to give up on retrieving it and make do with my lightning for a while.
In the far end of the room, I saw an opening. An opening to the outside! Sunlight glaring in. I moved though the opening and found myself on the side of a mountain, a setting sun glaring at me. The beauty of nature at my feet. I decided to sit down and relax for a while, I was bruised and wounded, and needed to clear my head as well. Finding a nice patch of soft grass, and using a nearby pumpkin for support, I sat down and closed my eyes.
#oc#enderal: forgotten stories#Skyrim#fantasy#story#retelling#storytelling#Aeternian#new life#The Elder Scrolls#magic#aldyne
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Enderal: Forgotten stories - The Adventure of Aldyne, chapter 1: Dishonest Beginnings
(SPOILERS FOR THE GAME ENDERAL: FORGOTTEN STORIES AHEAD)
I was back again. My old home, the wonderful hut where I grew up with my family. The sun stood high above the horizon, breathing life to the entire farm. Everything was as it was supposed to be.
I ran to my father, found him chopping wood as always. Ecstatic to see him I greeted him heartily. He told me about a massive elk he had hunted earlier. Thanking the Creator for putting it in our path. “Go in and help your mother out in the kitchen.” He told me, and so I did. Bolting inside, eager to see my mother and sister again, I found no one. The Kitchen was empty, and there was not as much as a breath in the house.
Walking into the next room, I see the dead elk on the floor. My father walked in and commented on the messy state he had left everything in. Curiously I asked about my mother and sister, to which he gave me a puzzled look as a response.
“Silly boy, don’t you remember? You murdered them, years ago. We buried them out in the garden.”
Whatever I was hearing I could not believe it. I remember how it happened. I remember! The masked men, the ones from the temple! I snapped at my father, recalling I tried to convince him time and time again. I have been here before.
I pleaded for him to believe me, but it was no use. He will only believe that it was I who murdered them all. The sun stood high no more. He lamented that if the Creator had made him just a little less merciful, he would have known to drown me the day I was born. Furiously, he turned around and exclaimed: “But enough about that. I don’t want to hear any more of this. I’m bloody hungry!”
At the same moment, our house was engulfed in flames, the heard burning everything. My father fell to his needs and began eating the now scorching flesh directly off the elk. As I was immolated, I flailed and screamed. Anguish, pain, fear, hatred, everything wanted out! Right until my own flailing woke me up and brought me to the real world.
In front of me was my travelling companion, Sirius.
“Another nightmare again? I swear if we had a penny for every night you woke up screaming, we wouldn’t have to be riding as blind passengers.” He quipped. “Perfect timing anyway, it’s your turn to stand guard and make sure no one catches us.”
Sirius was a good man, a good friend. Although forgetful at times, it was never out of malice. Some stuff just did not stick. He asked me again about my mother, who she was, and indirectly just who I am.
I am Aldyne. My mother was an Aeternian, making me half-Aerternian. I grew up in the slow life with my late family, and I have always had an affinity for magics. An affinity I planned on expanding once we reached our new world and got our second chance.
Not a second after asking about my mother, however, two of the ship’s guards entered the depot where we were hiding. They ended up wanting to search behind the crates, and so we had to act quickly. Defending ourselves in hope of not getting thrown off, Sirius took the young man, while I took the elder.
We didn’t want to, but we beat them unconscious. Anything to preserve our hiding spot. In order to avoid further injury to ourselves, or the men, I opted to gag and bind them until we arrived at the harbor. Releasing them and fleeing upon arrival. These plans would be short lived however, as the moment we turn around, a veiled woman greeted us with powerful magic that ended up knocking us unconscious.
I awoke to Sirius pleading for his life, as the ship’s captain took our measure. Before I had ever a chance to realize what was happening, Sirius was dead. Executed in the middle of the deck, by the captain.
Noting that I was now awake as well, the captain went for an immediate execution of myself. This is the last thing I remember as she threw Sirius and me overboard. Sinking slowly to the bottom of the ocean, past wreckages of ages past.
A voice whispered in my mind, disembodied, asking me to breathe. And so, I did, and now here I stand. At a point between worlds, surrounded by stone pillars, emanating of power.
This just might be the second chance I sought.
#OC#enderal: forgotten stories#fantasy#story#retelling#Aeternian#skyrim#the elder scrolls#new life#magic#storytelling#aldyne
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Whoops my finger slipped
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“A collection of common glyphs of the poorly understood Memeorite civilization of the Second Silicon Age. Memeorite glyphs possess multiple conflicting interpretations and a complexity of meaning impossible to capture in a few short words. These are rough translations only.”
Source: https://twitter.com/beach_fox/status/1325668490431246336 (which include more “memeorite glyphs”
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My Own Adversary
Slowly drowning in my own fog. Her heart creates ripples in my sea of insomnia.
My hears skips a beat, or two, or five, whenever she strays acrosses my mind.
Echoes of past's despair scream out through the forest. Reaching all but my ears of solitude.
"No. I will not listen, I will not cave. There are yet deeper horrors I am to brave.
There is naught to do, naught to be said, I shall lie on these roses and pray for yet a slow death."
The blossoming thorns piercing my soul, leave me with all but a healed heart. They stick themselves into every vulnerability I possess.
As I raise from the bed of red, my soul is yet till anchored. With nothing but a husk to wander I see myself from the outside.
What is this? Who is this? do I scarcely recognize myself any more? Empty of pain that expands my void, and full of glee to share.
Will I be me when this is over? Will getting better make me a better person? Will the light of my beloved blind me from what I possess?
Aimlessly wandering through the rough, thorns are all in my hide. One thought that remains anchored to me, I must keep the dark by my side.
What else can I do but to hold back what I trust, what else can be done than to swallow my own pain. What else can prove to me that it's worth it.
All but her heart, which creates silence in my home of insomnia.
A lot’s been happening as of late, and many thoughts burrow into my mind, some things are changing in my life and I am unsure if I like them. To my friends this is my reach out to you for I can not express it in any other way, if you can decipher the jumble of my mind. Take care y’all, and have a good one!
#Poem#Poetry#Poet#Poems#OC#Spilled Ink#Original#Original Work#existential poetry#Love#Original Content#Original poem
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