Post by Snowfrost on Jul 17, 2008 19:16:33 GMT -5
Sounds of steel clashing against steel could be heard, throughout the barren wasteland of a battlefield. In the distance, Red Mountain could be seen in all its glory from all of Morrowind, the Ghostgate’s pillars destroyed.
A bare-chested Khajiit was fighting off several Ash Vampires with his claws and vast knowledge of the Martial Arts, the Khajiit easily defeated his opponents before turning his gaze to Red Mountain.
“You’ll rue the day you messed with my family, Dagoth!” Nerevar the Nerevarine hissed before turning back to the battlefield, intent on finishing it, so he could hurry and finished what he had supposedly finished years earlier.
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“You too…? Immortal...” said a pale Imperial, his gaze on the Dark Elf in front of him.
The Dark Elf wore a garb of dark leather clothing; loose but fitting, and wielded Zweihander which was resting lazily over his shoulder, the dark jewel encrusted in the pommel’s sword glinted with sunlight.
The Imperial gave the Dark Elf a once over to properly assess his threat level. The Dark Elf had crimson hair fashioned into a Mohawk; Crimson eyes assessing him.
The Imperial was bare-chested with the exception of a leather strap going diagonally over his chest and back; which held six knife holsters. Two similar leather straps were on his forearms, holding twice the amount of knife holsters. The Imperial wore a peculiar set of pants, from which the Dark Elf assumed was silk; colored gray, and was intended for stealth. The Imperial had onyx black eyes, as well as long black hair that flowed freely with the wind.
“No…I just don’t fear death,” Aesur Ilin said before rushing at the Imperial with his Zweihander in one hand, the Imperial smirked before jumping into the air.
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A figure was sitting in front of a desk as he studied the ancient text he was ordered to; the orders came from his teacher.
The text taught a person how to achieve a perfect state of trance and meditation, something he had forgotten years ago.
Sweat slowly came to his brow before he wiped his forehead free of it, brushing his hand through his ‘mane’ of blonde hair. Green eyes focused on the text in front of him, he had to do this, so his focus could be perfected and he could finally achieve the mastery over his broadsword that he had lost years ago as a Skooma addict.
His size was common for those as a Nord; he was well over six feet tall. He possessed an intellect that only a Breton and High Elf could rival.
Canderos Ordo smiled, for he was finally regaining a firm grasp on his life again.
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A well armored Argonian; fitted with his ominous looking spear, stood tall over the battlefield, filling the eyes of his soldiers with hope.
They fought and bled for their Lord, because they believed in him. They would follow him and their Lord to the planes of Dementia and Mania if he ordered.
For now, he had a mission to accomplish. And that was to ensure the destruction of his Lord’s enemies and establish a new Estate, from which they could operate.
Of course, he would take his time in doing so. He hated the Empire, and still did. Still killing his Lord’s enemies was a suitable substitute for the Empire’s soldiers.
Braos grinned, who was he to take a ‘gift’ for granted. For all he cared, an enemy was an enemy, regardless if it was the Empire’s soldiers or not.
Hefting his spear on his shoulders, Braos started laughing raucously, as he made his way into the battlefield.
Sometimes it was good to be the General everyone in all of Tamriel feared.
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A hooded figure was walking through the darkened streets of the Imperial City, Blue eyes penetrating the darkness of the hood.
The hooded figure had an intent pertaining in the city, a mission if you will. Its mission was to find the last aspect of its Lord, an Imperial who had infiltrated the Imperial Army’s ranks in order to be safe from people like it.
Needless to say, the hooded figure wasn’t amused. The last few aspects had been relatively simple to convince to rejoin with their creator in the first place, others not so much.
A hooded figure landed next to it, “I’ve located him, he’s in his office sweating bullets” reported Schnee-Kälte. “Good, the more nervous he is, the easier it’ll be to capture him without incident” said Fera, Schnee-Kälte nodded and turned his gaze forward.
“Hang on…A few more hours and we’ll be reunited once again” he whispered, Fera nodded and both of them disappeared from the darkened street without a sound.
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In a cave inside the Jerall Mountain range, was a ghost. This ghost was the one, who killed and manipulated people for his plans.
The ghost was dying, after the destruction of his plans. His spirit essence was leaking out of him, from wounds it had received after exiting the body of its previous host, by the hands of an accomplice he had trusted.
Silver was the bane of the undead and spirits, somehow the accomplice had gotten silver weapons without it detecting them through several wards he had established in his hosts previous domain.
In the following days of its life, it would slowly and painfully disappear into Oblivion.
This would have been the end of the ghost known as Irstythay orfay Eedgray, hadn’t it been for the intervention of two gods, Boethiah and Mephala the Spider God.
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Inside a massive chamber, upon which half of the room was covered in Ice. Water had started pooling in puddles around the Ice-free half of the room. The Ice that horded half of the room resembled more an iceberg than a wall.
Within the Ice, a peculiar Khajiit was crucified, on an upside down cross. The Khajiit was bare-chested, only wearing his leather pants. The blades of two swords were protruding from his open chest; the hilts could be seen behind the Khajiit, held in mid-air by the Khajiit's body and the Ice.
The Khajiit had an extremely rare combination of fur color, of which consisted of White, Brown, and Orange. He also had a muzzle that resembled a dog’s than a cat’s, as well as the tail; if observed closely looked like a mix of a dog and cat’s tail.
The Khajiit’s eyes suddenly opened, golden eyes once filled with life were now a pale gold filled with nothing, his eyes dimly shined with a pale blue color. The Khajiit’s mouth slowly opened, its voice even escaped through the Ice, speaking a language that was dead, long before the creation of Tamriel.
Asato ma sad gamaya…
Tamaso ma jyotir gamaya…
Mrutyor ma amrtam gamaya
A bare-chested Khajiit was fighting off several Ash Vampires with his claws and vast knowledge of the Martial Arts, the Khajiit easily defeated his opponents before turning his gaze to Red Mountain.
“You’ll rue the day you messed with my family, Dagoth!” Nerevar the Nerevarine hissed before turning back to the battlefield, intent on finishing it, so he could hurry and finished what he had supposedly finished years earlier.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“You too…? Immortal...” said a pale Imperial, his gaze on the Dark Elf in front of him.
The Dark Elf wore a garb of dark leather clothing; loose but fitting, and wielded Zweihander which was resting lazily over his shoulder, the dark jewel encrusted in the pommel’s sword glinted with sunlight.
The Imperial gave the Dark Elf a once over to properly assess his threat level. The Dark Elf had crimson hair fashioned into a Mohawk; Crimson eyes assessing him.
The Imperial was bare-chested with the exception of a leather strap going diagonally over his chest and back; which held six knife holsters. Two similar leather straps were on his forearms, holding twice the amount of knife holsters. The Imperial wore a peculiar set of pants, from which the Dark Elf assumed was silk; colored gray, and was intended for stealth. The Imperial had onyx black eyes, as well as long black hair that flowed freely with the wind.
“No…I just don’t fear death,” Aesur Ilin said before rushing at the Imperial with his Zweihander in one hand, the Imperial smirked before jumping into the air.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A figure was sitting in front of a desk as he studied the ancient text he was ordered to; the orders came from his teacher.
The text taught a person how to achieve a perfect state of trance and meditation, something he had forgotten years ago.
Sweat slowly came to his brow before he wiped his forehead free of it, brushing his hand through his ‘mane’ of blonde hair. Green eyes focused on the text in front of him, he had to do this, so his focus could be perfected and he could finally achieve the mastery over his broadsword that he had lost years ago as a Skooma addict.
His size was common for those as a Nord; he was well over six feet tall. He possessed an intellect that only a Breton and High Elf could rival.
Canderos Ordo smiled, for he was finally regaining a firm grasp on his life again.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A well armored Argonian; fitted with his ominous looking spear, stood tall over the battlefield, filling the eyes of his soldiers with hope.
They fought and bled for their Lord, because they believed in him. They would follow him and their Lord to the planes of Dementia and Mania if he ordered.
For now, he had a mission to accomplish. And that was to ensure the destruction of his Lord’s enemies and establish a new Estate, from which they could operate.
Of course, he would take his time in doing so. He hated the Empire, and still did. Still killing his Lord’s enemies was a suitable substitute for the Empire’s soldiers.
Braos grinned, who was he to take a ‘gift’ for granted. For all he cared, an enemy was an enemy, regardless if it was the Empire’s soldiers or not.
Hefting his spear on his shoulders, Braos started laughing raucously, as he made his way into the battlefield.
Sometimes it was good to be the General everyone in all of Tamriel feared.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A hooded figure was walking through the darkened streets of the Imperial City, Blue eyes penetrating the darkness of the hood.
The hooded figure had an intent pertaining in the city, a mission if you will. Its mission was to find the last aspect of its Lord, an Imperial who had infiltrated the Imperial Army’s ranks in order to be safe from people like it.
Needless to say, the hooded figure wasn’t amused. The last few aspects had been relatively simple to convince to rejoin with their creator in the first place, others not so much.
A hooded figure landed next to it, “I’ve located him, he’s in his office sweating bullets” reported Schnee-Kälte. “Good, the more nervous he is, the easier it’ll be to capture him without incident” said Fera, Schnee-Kälte nodded and turned his gaze forward.
“Hang on…A few more hours and we’ll be reunited once again” he whispered, Fera nodded and both of them disappeared from the darkened street without a sound.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In a cave inside the Jerall Mountain range, was a ghost. This ghost was the one, who killed and manipulated people for his plans.
The ghost was dying, after the destruction of his plans. His spirit essence was leaking out of him, from wounds it had received after exiting the body of its previous host, by the hands of an accomplice he had trusted.
Silver was the bane of the undead and spirits, somehow the accomplice had gotten silver weapons without it detecting them through several wards he had established in his hosts previous domain.
In the following days of its life, it would slowly and painfully disappear into Oblivion.
This would have been the end of the ghost known as Irstythay orfay Eedgray, hadn’t it been for the intervention of two gods, Boethiah and Mephala the Spider God.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Inside a massive chamber, upon which half of the room was covered in Ice. Water had started pooling in puddles around the Ice-free half of the room. The Ice that horded half of the room resembled more an iceberg than a wall.
Within the Ice, a peculiar Khajiit was crucified, on an upside down cross. The Khajiit was bare-chested, only wearing his leather pants. The blades of two swords were protruding from his open chest; the hilts could be seen behind the Khajiit, held in mid-air by the Khajiit's body and the Ice.
The Khajiit had an extremely rare combination of fur color, of which consisted of White, Brown, and Orange. He also had a muzzle that resembled a dog’s than a cat’s, as well as the tail; if observed closely looked like a mix of a dog and cat’s tail.
The Khajiit’s eyes suddenly opened, golden eyes once filled with life were now a pale gold filled with nothing, his eyes dimly shined with a pale blue color. The Khajiit’s mouth slowly opened, its voice even escaped through the Ice, speaking a language that was dead, long before the creation of Tamriel.
Asato ma sad gamaya…
Tamaso ma jyotir gamaya…
Mrutyor ma amrtam gamaya