Carstein Chronicles

[Sammaven]

Air swooshed by Latchuk's forehead, a twisted wooden club slashing through the air. The nimble Redguard twisted into his opponent's guard and plunged his shortsword into the Argonian's shoulder blade, grinding and snapping sinews and bone, the Argonian howled in fear and pain. The Redguard smashed his fist into the Argonian's face, sending him sprawling, but still conscious. The desperate lizard man lashed out with his studded boot which hit Latchuk on the shin, and he backed up in recoil nursing his leg.

 

"Son of a.." muttered the Redguard, who rubbed his leg as the Blue Team Argonian stood. "RAAH!" shouted Latchuk, rushing forward with his shortsword held out before him and his combat knife held upside down behind him. He rushed in with the shortsword, swinging it up so that the lizard could easily block with its mace. The blade embedded itself a quarter of the way into the wood and stuck. The Redguard let go of the sword and rammed the knife into the Argonian's unprotected abdomen, rupturing its intestines.

 

The lizard knew he was going to die, and decided to go down honorably. It got on its knees in front of the Redguard.

 

The shortsword cracked halfway into the scaled head, blood and brains gushing out of the opening.

 

The crowd roared in applause with a few Boo's here and there.

 

"What the.." muttered Latchuk, as he saw one of the members of the audience fall onto the spikes lining the arena. It was too gruesome a sight for even one as tough as the Redguard to look at, and the crowd gasped in shock.

 

Purplish green blood gushed out of the broken Wood Elf on the spikes, the confused and awe-struck crowd cringed in disgust.

 

Latchuk wrenched his steel sword out of the lizard man and walked back towards The Bloodworks.

 

The audience was more focused on the body hanging on the spikes, so they didn't see the Yellow Team Redguard vomit a vile stomach acid onto the steps and trudge away.

 

 

OOC: Sorry that it's so short, but I have a LOT of really cool things planned for this fan fiction.

[Sammaven]

Y'mellus licked the envelope sealed and stamped it with the Mages Guild Seal.

 

Mannfred Von Carstein,

 

Make all haste to the Imperial City. Do NOT speak to any of the locals. In fact, avoid contact with anything and everything non-military. This is an Imperial decree, and if you are not in the City within two days, you will be brought here by force.

 

Sincerely, Y'mellus

 

The Altmer passed the letter to a Dunmer messenger, who instantly darted from the room

 

"It disgusts me to call upon such worms as Mannfred. Are you sure we need him?" spat Y'mellus, stabbing a steel dagger into his table out of mere boredom.

 

"Y'mellus it is necessary. Stop worrying about it, they will probably just kill him after he's finished," said General Currux, scratching his neck, sitting back in a chair, trying to forget the recent events. He popped a cigar into his mouth and puffed on it. Smoke rose gracefully into the air, dancing wisps of gray cascading from Currux's mouth.

 

"You're right, but it bothers me that the Mages Guild cannot deal with this matter."

 

As Y'mellus was about to sit down, a figure burst through the door. It was a filthy man, a Breton, maybe a Nord, by the looks of it.

 

"By the Nine how did you get in here?" bellowed Currux, unsheathing his sword. The figure vomited green and black liquid onto the unfortunate General.

 

"You filthy [censored]son!" howled Y'mellus, leaping onto the desk in the middle of the story and lopping off the man's head, sending him flying back, vile fluids leaking out of his already rotting body.

 

The General was moaning, his arms reaching outwards in jerking motions.

 

"By the Emperor! Currux no!" shotued the Altmer.

 

"The.. disease.. It's going to kill me. I never got to say goodbye to my kids...." drifted Currux, drooling green saliva out of his mouth, the cigar had fallen onto his lap.

 

"Don't say that, man, you are going to make it! By the Nine I ORDER you to make it!" Y'mellus yelled.

 

"Don't.. fight with me. Accept the gift of Narsiym!" blurted Currux.

 

"What are you talking about General? You're crazy!" screamed Y'mellus, backing up with his ebony longsword raised.

 

"Leave! Get out of here before you catch it! Quickly damn you, Altmer!" screamed Currux, who seemed to have grabbed ahold of himself for a few seconds.

 

Y'mellus leapt over a pile of bile and blood, and through the door. He closed the double door to Currux and stumbled out into the hallway. Nobody was in sight.

+++

Alvex Meveil, the Dunmer messenger that was delivering Y'mellus's message, slid out of the room and jogged down the hall, bumping into a sickly looking Nord, and kept on jogging.