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The tall tales & tragedies of the Chattering Scroll Inn


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#31
iansaltman

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A slight smile played at the corners of the girl's lips, "Then she shall become he, and he shall become Arva. As for my name, it is Reona. It means 'reaper' in an ancient language long forgotten by time."

She motioned to the window with the slight lift of a finger, and in a voice so light and rapid that only another elf could understand, she mumbled, "The man occasionally peering into the window is my travelling companion. Don't look over at your normal speed, do it very quickly, if you must... He thinks he's inconspicuous, you see."

She tugged at the black frill of lace that fringed her sleeves, nervously straightening them as she looked up at the towering Altmer, "What name shall I address you by?"


As Ellundil looked upon her solemn face, all he could do was smile. He rose from his seat and sheathed his sword on his back, looking down on the innocent Bosmer, then lifting her head with his worn hands- "Maybe one day, when our paths cross again, you will be able to know." and with that he left some gold at the bar, simply out of politeness. And left the inn, as swift as the storm had lifted.

Ellundil began down the road- not knowing where it would take him or why he would go the direction he did. He just went with the wind as some would say. The breeze blew cool on him through his entire journey through a shaded forest. Solemn did he take a rest, or make a fire, and even more solemnly did he sleep. He walked on further, seeing the sun peeking through the trees, and a field beyond that. "Ahh, simply bliss..reminds me of..." and with that spoken to himself, his voice was abrupted by a bandit at the end of the road.

"Stop and pay the toll to exit the forest! We wouldnt want trouble!" - with that said the rest of the bandits, lets say 10, sprung out of the bushes, swords and axes in hand.

"Trouble is already here, my friend." And with that he sprung to the bandit that had spoken to him, slicing him in two. This had the opposite effect of what was intended, the bandits went into a mad fury. However, the battlecaster was not worried, he teleported from here to there in very short bursts, bashing bandits with his blade, felling them one at a time. Three bandits were left in total, and as he ran forward towards them he felt fatigue, and tripped on his greaves. The largest and strongest bandit then went up to him and slashed him once across the back with a large axe. The wound Ellendil had was fierce, and he was paralyzed. Left to thoughts of how stupid he was, being looted by common bandits.

Would this be the end for a tortured soul like Ellendil, or is someone watching over him?

Edited by iansaltman, 10 August 2011 - 01:59 AM.


#32
tokyobiohazard

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Reona's bare feet sunk into the muddy earth as she ran, hindering her speed slightly. She felt the air make her hair whip around her face as she followed the scent of blood. Something was wrong, of that she was certain. Her sharp eyes barely focused on what lay ahead, she followed that strong, metallic scent, listening to her own footsteps as she bolted ahead, not sure what exactly she would find. She listened hard, not hearing any footsteps behind her. Her companion had decided to stay behind at camp today, it seemed.

Reona whizzed past a black horse and its rider, and smirked as she heard their astonished exclamation at her sheer speed. She chuckled to herself and sprinted faster, showing off a bit. The harsh sound of steel striking steel filled the air and Reona's hair stood on end as a shiver racked its way down her spine. She skidded to a stop and leaped into a tree high above the ground, looking for a better vantage point. Off in the distance, she saw it, a group of bandits attacking a single man... and a familiar glow radiating from his shirtless torso.

She hopped from treetop to treetop lithely, agilely leaping, but nevertheless cursing her dress for being so long. She tilted her head to the side like a predator watching its prey, and gasped soundlessly as the Altmer from the inn was rent open by a huge bandit from shoulder blade to hip.

A primal part of Reona awoke at that moment and the timid Bosmer suddenly was filled with murderous rage, for whomever would harm one of her friends, even if a newly met friend, would suffer her wrath and taste Arva's might. She roared and pounced at the huge bandit, her black skirt billowing around her like the petals of a battered flower. She landed on the bandit's shoulders and drove the point of Arva into his head, hearing the crunch of the sword puncturing his skull and the satisfying sound of his last breath.

She turned to the other two bandits, snarling at them as if she were an animal, "If you want to live, I'd advise you to leave now."

The bandits looked at her warily, as if they were considering whether or not she could take them both at once. They looked at each other and ran, looking pale as ghosts.

"Good choice," she mumbled to herself as she bent down and pulled a fishbone hook out of her dress pocket. She carefully began to stitch the wound, not having anything else on her person to treat him. She sat down in the grass and leaned against a tree, intent on watching him until he awoke.

#33
iansaltman

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Edit: Wasn't Happy with my work, will change today after dinner.

Edited by iansaltman, 11 August 2011 - 08:03 PM.


#34
Lisnpuppy

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Approaching the gate, she saw the owner of the voice, a dark and dazzling woman was emerging just beneath the shadows, surely an ancient race rarely seen.

The captive woman pushed the gate and it swung free, still clutching the femur but pinned down at her side, the anger rose within her and she pulled her chin up, pushed her shoulders back and in a threatening tone demanded:

"Why am I here? Did you see them? Why did you unlock the gate? Which way is out? And most importantly WHERE IS MY BOW?"



The Drow/Dumner woman blinked, green eyes flashing as she took in the plethora of words the woman seemed to shove in a smallish space of time. Deciding to give her answers in a similar fashion, Kismet answered.

"I know not. Yes. To let you out. To the East. Where the males are, I would think."

Having answered Kismet looked around the cavern again with perfect sight, inherent to the Drow race. Looking back to the woman and her femur weapon she pulled a dagger from a cleverly hidden sheath on the outside of her boot. Flipping it from hilt to blade, she unerringly caught it and handed it toward the woman.

"Will this due until we find this bow? I can poison it if you promise not to injure yourself with it." The blade was blacker than the darkest parts of the cavern, the hilt magnificently made. A treasure to be sure, in this world anyway. Yet the Drow handed it away as if it was nothing, a trinket of lowest value.

The faerie fire shone on the Drow's curious face. Her dark skin perfect and without scars or blemishes. She was lovely, with high cheekbones and almond-slit eyes. Her countenance perfect but thus far so perfect as to seem unnatural. She could pass for an unusual looking Dumner...Kismet however had an arrogant stare and held herself in a manner which made most who encountered her, if they did not turn tail and run, cower slightly and follow her commands. Though she gave nothing away other than curiousness...it was the curiousness of a large, predatory cat has when its belly is full...that sees a rabbit come from its burrow.

The Drow looked again to the female. Wiggling the dagger's hilt at the woman, Kismet said again in her low-silky voice. "Come! Decide and let us be going. Otherwise I leave you here with only that for your company!" Kismet nodded in the direction of the femur still gripped tightly in the woman's hand. The as if an afterthought the Drow spoke again, "Oh...I am Kismet. Now I am know to you. Let us make haste."


#35
XxPockieNinjaxX

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After my many thoughts of my dreams at the camp lit fire, I gathered my stuff and plotted my course. As I walked down the path of the forest my every step echoed like the sound of a great tree falling, the crackling of twigs and branch's below my feet.

But the echo was not mine alone, I could faintly hear footsteps they followed far behind. They seemed to be moving closer by the second "I wondered was it friend or foe?"...but before I could ask. I was given my answer, the familiar sound of steel awakening brought my mind into focus. A figure came into view out of the corner of my eye my instinct took over "my hands dashed for my sword" my thoughts not fast enough to keep up. The clash of cold steel, its resonating sound of battle, yelled out. My elf sense's kicked in my body was in control now.

My every step was like a master piece "well planned and precise" my sword checked his, our battle cried out intensifying. By the way he moved I could tell this was a assassin, the anger and joy of his eyes darted out into the depth’s of my very soul. His blade checked mine recoiling me back, poised to strike it seemed this battle was to come to a end.

Edited by XxPockieNinjaxX, 10 August 2011 - 02:59 PM.


#36
QuantumNano

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Vizharan is a dark elf who practiced blood magic and was once a member of the house telvanni in morrowind and a high ranking member at that he was sent on a mission to find out what the mages and necromancer had been up to in cyrodiil such as new spells enchantments or arcane artifacts but in his travels he came across a place known as echo cave as he wandered through the cave he came across a rather unusual room and some stairs and at the top of those was manimmarco king of the necromancers.Manimmarco did not take vizharans presence kindly and was quickly defeated but for some reason manimmarco could not turn vizharan into a worm thrall so instead he wiped his mind and left him on the coast of anvil and vizharan awakes with no memory of his past life....Then as he wandered around cyrodiil he came across an inn known as the Chattering scroll inn he entered in hope he would find someone who could help him recover his lost memory.

#37
AurianaValoria1

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Rhaine sighed as she listened to her black steed's hoofbeats. Perhaps this road would lead to the Chattering Scroll...so she hoped. It wouldn't be the first time someone had led her astray to watch her flounder. These people were deathly afraid of plane-travellers at worst, and cruelly difficult at best. Nevertheless, she had to bear the burden of embarrassment and frustration for the sake of this world - and her own.

She lifted her hand to the amulet about her neck, bearing the skeletal hand-and-scales symbol of her god, Kelemvor. It pulsed with warmth at her touch. The fact that her god was with her in this quest was her only comfort.

Suddenly, she spied dark shapes on the road ahead. Several bodies were strewn on the ground, and a Bosmer girl - or what she thought was a Bosmer girl - knelt by one of them.

She kicked Thanatos into a canter, and called to the little elf. Her hood fell from her head, allowing her auburn hair to fly in the wind. She prayed she could arrive in time to be of aid...

#38
Flintlockecole

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Locke wandered through the vast yet foreign forest hoping to find a road to anywhere, his ears luckily were still as sharp as they were when he was alive. He heard chattering, people boasting about what they had stolen the previous day. Information he though to himself. As he Approached the camp of bandits he heard the cries of the men begging for mercy, drawing his blade he quickly yet quietly made his way up to the camp.

A girl with brown silken like hair with a blade that shined like the moon itself stood there pointing it in his general direction. "Come out and I won't slaughter you like these thieves" She said. Out through the shrubberies Locke wandered out, sheathing his blade he asked "Where in the Bloody hell am I..." His words paused as he had a better look at the blade. He knew that blade all too well. "Where'd you get that blade" He said with a stern voice. "Your dead, back to the grave with you!" The Ranger screamed. They fought til the sun dawned above the dense woodland, The Ranger lunged at Locke. He dodged her and his blade tasted her flesh, she lay on the ground in sheer agony "Pppoissonn, Ccheatter" she managed to chatter out. With little emotion in his cold walk Locke picked up the blade. "I thought I wouldn't have seen you again in my lifetime" he said to himself.

Standing over his broken foe he jabbed her blade straight through her eye and into the ground. "If that blade is here, that means 'she' must be here as well..." His cruel thought's inside his head rang. Picking up the rangers gear he kept on heading west in hopes of finding answers.

#39
Keanumoreira

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Sarah watched secretly amongst the protection of the damp foliage, observing the duel that had just taken place. Her thoughts turned back to her vacant childhood, devoid of the parents that brought her into Nirn. Death...so ultimate, so final, yet she was one to deliver it herself. Thieving, sneaking, silting throats; this was an unusual list to ponder given the circumstances.

Observing as the ruthless killer disappeared into the warm copses just ahead, Sarah felt compelled to approach the fallen ranger, her scarlet blood dripping in the sun's glinting light, "Cras in enim nunc temptandi." The prayer was that of respect for the fallen, but no relief came with it. Although it felt wrong to steal from the dead, Sarah's nipping stomach hadn't seen a morsel in three whole days, and this opportunity just couldn't be passed up. Taking the seventy gold pieces, a piece of mutton, bread and cheese, which the murderer had mysteriously skipped, she leaves a final blessing for the departing soul.

"They will be put to good use, I promise." Slipping back into the brush, the nimble thief heads to her destination, intent on finding the Scroll Inn before dusk crept from over the mountains.

Edited by Keanumoreira, 13 August 2011 - 03:24 PM.


#40
tokyobiohazard

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Rhaine sighed as she listened to her black steed's hoofbeats. Perhaps this road would lead to the Chattering Scroll...so she hoped. It wouldn't be the first time someone had led her astray to watch her flounder. These people were deathly afraid of plane-travellers at worst, and cruelly difficult at best. Nevertheless, she had to bear the burden of embarrassment and frustration for the sake of this world - and her own.

She lifted her hand to the amulet about her neck, bearing the skeletal hand-and-scales symbol of her god, Kelemvor. It pulsed with warmth at her touch. The fact that her god was with her in this quest was her only comfort.

Suddenly, she spied dark shapes on the road ahead. Several bodies were strewn on the ground, and a Bosmer girl - or what she thought was a Bosmer girl - knelt by one of them.

She kicked Thanatos into a canter, and called to the little elf. Her hood fell from her head, allowing her auburn hair to fly in the wind. She prayed she could arrive in time to be of aid...


Reona glanced upward upon hearing hooves stamp the ground in the distance, her hand instinctively swiping her sword from the ground and her body feeling the edgy adrenaline rush that coursed through her veins whenever a stranger neared. Her eyes flicked to her Altmer friend lying on the his belly, his breathing erratic and disturbed; the wound was still bleeding, despite the stitches. He would bleed out soon, Reona guessed, feeling a twinge of sadness.

A female voice broke the silence, making the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. She brushed her fringe of raven hair behind her pointed ear and gazed upward, her eyes meeting a hooded figure on a black steed. The person's hood fell away, and a regal, kindly woman gazed back at her with a concerned expression, her hair like liquid fire in the harsh wind.

Reona stood and curtsied, her body still feeling tensed and twitching with pent-up adrenaline, ready to spring at the woman if need be. She glanced up and reflexively said, unintentionally sounding a bit venomous, "Greetings, fellow elf. I sincerely hope that you do not also wish to harm my friend here, for I fear he cannot endure much more. He shall likely be gone within a few hours, I suspect. I shall, however, defend him with my life until his dying breath."




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