Skyrim Fan Fiction Library

[SinderionsBones]

lawl. I've been looking for this thread in the modding forum >.< been like where'd it go!??

 

Ok, I'll keep goin on the one I've been doing :D I'm also seeing if I can just adapt my script to a book form for another mod of mine that's waaay more dialog intensive :D i.e. 60 or so % of the writing already done lol. No strong feelings on the covers for this current one, 06 and 06a are cool, go with 06a. 02b for the other storyline, the one I haven't started yet, :D definitely, but we'll address that when it's up.

[DanielLiswinski]

Found new Covers. Perhaps you can get permission to use them too?

http://skyrim.nexusmods.com/downloads/file.php?id=12884&navtag=file/images.php?id=12884&tab=3

[SinderionsBones]

Not saying don't ask, but :D From the modified book covers mod.

You do not have to ask me for permission to use the textures / meshes in your own mod.

(credit would be nice but not necessary)

 

Edit: btw, do you have a version of this thread in the mod talk forum? a lot of creative people in there who come to the forum with interest in expressing that creativity in one form or another.

 

I've been caught up doing a radiant thieves mod and forgot to come back and add more to my stuff lol. Until I was posting here: http://forums.nexusmods.com/index.php?/topic/620604-dungeons-and-loot/ and someone brought it up again.

 

Let's see what I can get goin. My writing is largely off the top of my head. I've chosen, for some of this stuff, to pay homage to games more just in references versus style. For this first hand account, It's more important for the feelings be expressed reasonably clearly, than for the style to remain true. I've got enough trouble even doing that without having to think about style of stuff lol. I'm no writer. Just so you know :D Edit at your discretion of course.

 

 

Dodge left. Parry upswing. Damn “sword” starts creaking. Who makes a sword out of bones and rocks anyways? Parry successful. Shoulder to the midsection. Jagged hilt between the straps of leather, kidney shot. Aaand he’s knocked over by an almost suicidal leap from one of our idiot warriors.

With a slight interruption of his berserker rage, almost comically, the warrior addresses me. “What? You wanted to finish him? He’s all yours. AHHH!!!!!”

He continues towards the center of town. These people… He woulda been skewered if I hadn’t had this fellow occupied. I give the dazed Nord a good bash to the head to keep him out. I’m not here to kill people. Just keep up appearances and keep an eye out.

The raid is going as expected. The towns people, elderly, women and children were warned off thankfully. From where I’m standing it’s not obvious though. No Nord is easily run from their home. Comforting. My work saved some lives today, and I don’t think I’m on the hook for it so far.

Where is the patriarch? Why aren’t we moving on? Shouting, from behind, they found something of interest. Warriors are running from all around to hear it. Maybe they’ll call it a day. Maybe he’s giving us our new destination.

Damn, warriors gathered, swords raised. They’re going to execute or ritually engage someone, as good as an execution. I’ve seen them do it.

“What have we here?” I yell, drawing closer and maintaining my apparent blod thirst.

“Children..” One warrior among the crowd answers. Hesitantly. Unsure of the situation.

“Nord children!” Another exclaims in disgust.

“Hiding so they could grow and fester and kill us the same as the rest of the Nord filth do!”

“Get ‘em while they’re young!” Another yells.

Damn it these people. They’re not killing children. Not going to happen. Cover be damned.

The murderous gleam in the Patriarch’s eyes is unreal. Can human eyes get that wide? If he raises his sword he’s mine. The others I can pacify. Many have lost children of their own. Just don’t do it you stupid man. They’re children.

Both hands on his hilt, begin to raise. This is it. One stab to the heart. He won’t dodge.

A loud crash, a shield on the ground? One man accidentally grazed by a sword as the previously unsure warrior pushes through the crowd.

“You will not harm them! They are children Jaadar. You will not harm them.” The Briarhearts questioning gaze shifts to the interrupting forsworn and softens. This is not a strict hierarchical society. We’re all in this together they always say.

“You will not harm them.” He repeats, sword lowered, but ready.

“No, I won’t. Yes Coren. They are just children.” He obviously just now decided this.

Shivers down my spine as the adrenalin fades. We are done here.

 

***

 

Why do we have to sleep on rocks? I can’t get comfortable. I’m not going to get any sleep like this. Who thought up the “Training” anyways?

It’s the third day of training for my first field assignment. So far I’ve been fed some of the most horrible meat imaginable, been experimented on to gauge reaction to various herbs, and worst of all, I’ve been sleeping on a rock.

“Get up loafer! Time for breakfast.” Captains gotta be joking. There’s no way. I just got to sleep.

“What? The moons still…”

“What’s wrong with you, get your head out of that fur, wrong moon genius. The others are already up. You’ve slept most of the night this time. It’s called exhaustion, works wonders.” He’s right.

“What’s the point of getting up before it’s light anyways?” I asked innocently.

“You sure whine a lot.” The captain returned. Yeah that hurt. I’ve always considered myself tough enough. This strain is wearing on me a bit. It shows. I guess that’s what the training’s for isn’t it?

“You and your team.” The captain explains dramatically. “Are going to deliver another critical report. On foot”

No whining, no whining… think, lives in danger, my training gives them a better chance.. “Alright. Now..” I cringe. “Where are we delivering it to?”

“You see that ridge over there?” He motions towards a hill some distance away.

“Indeed, the one with the trees?” I ask hopefully.

“Nooo, the one beyond it, with the snow, kind of has the shape of a deer the way the rocks and snow come together?”

“How many days till it has to be there?” Don’t do this Captain please.

“Days? It’s before sunrise, so you have about two thirds of a day.” He says with a smile.

“Yup, I’m going to die.”

“Here’s your report. Meet the others at the base of the rocks and head out. I’ll see you there tonight.”

He sits, sipping his snowberry tea. Just waiting till we take off to get on his horse and take the road there no doubt…

Edited March 18, 2012 by SinderionsBones

[DanielLiswinski]

This one here was Originally an Idea for a Mod, but since there was not a single comment left for it, I wanted to ask if it could be added as a possible Story here too. So, here's the link to my Request:

http://forums.nexusmods.com/index.php?/topic/600094-idea-for-later/

Tell me, what you think of it, possible Story, or better a dream Mod of mine?

[Fortunado3]

Everyone can start eating their hearts out...

 

 

 

First two chapters of my book, each one will be its own in game book volume.

http://i208.photobucket.com/albums/bb319/joniscrazy/Uffizi_Giotto.jpg

Giotto, Imperial Plaza, circa 43, 3rd Era.

 

The Life And Times Of Giotto De'Aguirre: The Great Hajj' to Torval

 

By Mero Pontius

 

 

Prologue

 

 

 

What had started as another trivial day among endless piles of correspondence and ponderous manuscripts, had suddenly looked up. A field dispatch to the mid-lower Niben, along the Rumare's fortune, across the rolling hills from which the great Torval himself must have observed during his many great adventures. Out of the dusty, wine filled idle, and into a royal excursion amongst Tamriel's native populace! A rare case to find myself indeed, especially with the anxious, and hectic deadlines which the Imperial Geographical Correspondence so heavily relied upon. An Imperial Courier Service that, at the time, had seen its more blessed, brighter days mind you.

 

More than a fortnights worth of Septims, and what seemed to be a less than enthusiastic guide would point me towards both my destiny and an untold history that fleshes out an adventurous Cyrodiilic spirit not wholly known by the contemporary, Imperial citizen. Settling in to what was, through recollect, a most opportune time to enhance and nourish my understanding and correlation in the ways of antiquity, I brought many 'out of date' and ideological tomes on my person.

 

A trip down the 'Imperial Run' and no fortuitous aversions, a sad commentary, but not a complete loss as the various flora and fauna along our shores had been a beautiful, and pleasant omen of inspirational things to come. As we banked, our mission became apparent as a courier and my wine stenched correspondency received us at Bravil's smog laden docks. The Imperial Seal broke, our prerogative was now privy to most in the area and as the text read, our bidding would not be alone in this mysterious estate auction that our epistle auxiliary would attend.

 

Night fell quicker in Bravil than in most provinces and domestic cries poured throughout the half cobbled streets, carried along by the rolling mist from the over drawn sewers. Choking for both air and inspiration, my mind reeled from the possibilities of who, or what had drawn such ire from the Imperial Geographical Society and by extension our Correspondence. My purse was filled with twice a months pay for your highest rank officer, thrice what I could have made in a seasons worth of writings. I had obviously been sent on a 'Walking Slip' writ to fulfill an objective I myself wasn't fully sure of. Rumors and bribes had payed our way towards a local Seraglio, slash, "drinking establishment" that was ripe with ear wigs and ill reputes. No two men could be trusted, yet no one man could be ignored. The stories, myths and legends swirled around our heads along with the local refreshments, and a full retreat to the quarters was more than warranted on many of those urban, Bravil nights.

 

As the Sun rose on that final day before my "reawakening", I was a bit under and had seen several local medical procurers about ways to cope with the indigenous spirits and subsequent nightlife. A Polypore genus I did not recognize and what I presumed to be a boar's meat concoction would be my only alleviation from the buzzed requiem I was enduring. As our buggy-cart shifted and rattled towards the excluded Estate, my swollen head accompanied. There hadn't been much room for excitement as we pulled up to the dilapidated, but sizable residence which obviously had not been occupied, nor maintained for some period. Perhaps the First Century of this Era, of our Lord Emperor?

 

Bidding started low, but gained a respectable enough sum to start spending the remaining Septims that had been burning a hole into my pantaloons throughout this whole expedition into the Tamrielic surreal.

 

"30,000 Septims!, I hear 35,000? I hear-"

 

A cloaked Breton had relinquished ethereal control of his staff as it nodded back and forth to the sides, bidding on its own in dream like fashion.

 

"35,000 There, do I hear 37,500! 'For the Emperor!', lets see it, for the Gold, do I-"

 

The time had come for action, I grasped my coins tighter in excitable impatience. I shouted above the crows, "Forty, One, Five! All!", expending my funds in their entirety. Sweating throughout every pour, I would be lucky to pay my fare back to the 'Tower' if I had came up red.

 

Nobody moved, silence only Nocturnal knows fell over the crowing crowd. Destiny! The Breton shifted backwards, engulfed by the window shoppers and the out bid.

 

What exactly had I bid on, what had I won!?

 

As the motley deluge dispersed back from whence they had came, mostly back to the local Inns and rathskellers, our victorious band of writers, journalists and epistles gathered around the gargoyled front halls, gazing into the darkened chambers of this grand prize we had just acquired. "A hefty sum", and "She may collapse before the night!", were only two of many sentiments that were thrown about by both the remaining assemblage and our own auxiliary. My pulse was dissipating along with my ardent adrenaline. The reality of winning no more than firewood and a few coins from the antiquated carpentry's had taken enthusiasm's mantle. But, such cynical negatives would be in vain!

 

Split into groups of three, we descended the many staired ingresses and cob webbed vestibules, until we had met back with our paired counterparts, having made a full revolution of the circled, bottom storey's. Mid day humidity had caused one of our Breton Paige-hands to resign back to a cooler outside stable, as we started towards the living quarters and a most impressive library half filled with mold riddled books. The many tomes were rare, but also moth eaten, and drenched in a century's worth of filth and Bravil humidity. The secluded personal quarters of the estates previous steward were not much better. Overturned furnishings, brownish red stains and boarded windows had most of us convinced the last occupier of this floor had most likely been vampire in nature. None the less, a courageous third of us trekked on towards the final doorway into the master's bedroom and study.

 

Another story entirely. The magnificent aperture had been barred from the inside and was unmolested, requiring our nimblest, and most Elven writer, Celedor to unlock it from the balcony overlay. Silver furnishings, likely mined from Argonia, and inlaid onto a prestigious Colovian border surrounded the room, while oil paintings and many frescoes dotted both the floors and arched ceiling. The studies one lectern possessed a key which seemingly opened any reliquary within the mansion proper including the two mysterious, engraved master chests that had us captivated from the moment we had entered this room. Celedor, Unwyn the Clever and myself were all that remained inside the master quarter's study. Key in hand, I slid it gently into the fastening as not to break it, or the aged lock. With Unwyn and our agile Bosmer comrade on either side, we lifted the heavy seal together in triumph...

 

"PAPERS!?"

 

Celedor had tried in futility to calm her, as Unwyn's forehead veined and reddened.

 

"We came all this-. We came all this way. PAPERS!? Forty one thousand something for some silver inlays and three diaries? I'll wring Lorasius' scrawny little neck when I-..."

 

Celedor persisted, "Calm down Unwyn, he would have known what they sent us for, right Mero... Right!?"

 

Trying to find some reassurance to alleviate the now apparently, even more anxious Wood Elf, I had remained silent and reached inside the container. Three worn journals, a forth with erroneous excerpts, various exotic papers and rough drafts were all that was inside the two gigantic safes. Written in bold, in a hardly legible hand I hadn't seen since scholarly school read; Giotto, Hajj', 3E 2 of His Grace Tiber Septim. As I opened the bindings, the still muffled Nord-ess and Celedor headed back towards the first entrance way, surely to tell the rest of the exhausted group outside, that we were all doomed. As I read the trilogy of journals, I lost track of both time and my surrounding awareness. Perplexing transparencies gave way to immersed transcendence. I was in awe of what I had just found.

 

The life and personal story of the most adventurous, interesting explorer since Topal The Pilot and dare I say, the most prolific and learned Imperial adventurer to ever grace any plane of Mundus. Giotto De'Aguirre, the name itself was gaudy and wasn't even entirely Nibenese, nor Cyrodiilic in nature. Giotto was from another time. A name that had been brought up from the Golden Coast some Centuries ago. And De'Aguirre was even more puzzling. Perhaps auld Breton, or Colovian in nature. Some contemporary West Weald-ers even took names with similar lexicons. One truth remains though, that Giotto was completely pro-Nedic in both blood line and spirit. The prototypical Imperial man.

 

His back story, perhaps even more telling than his latter adventures, described a childhood and adolescents more adventurous than most Men or Mer could accumulate in a lifetime's worth of itinerancy. At the age of five Giotto was sent to live with his last living relative, an Uncle off the coast of Anvil, after a Knahaten Flu epidemic took both his parents and other siblings. At eight, he was living a privateers life along side his picarooning Uncle, swashbuckling and smuggling Moon Sugar in the Abecean Sea. Marooned on an island in the Stros M'Kai Archipelago at eleven, rescued and taken under the wing of a Redguard whaling captain at twelve. By seventeen he had joined the ever growing Imperial Legion, and was sent to the Imperial City to understudy for various annotators and professors, having said to both help edit and even confirm various scholarly reports of the time. During the Unification of The Empire, Giotto was assigned to a correspondence's outfit at the old Fort Sphinxmoth, near the city of Dune, on the Imperial-Elsweyr border. This is undoubtedly where Giotto's love and interest for both Khajiiti culture and mythology sprung from, which would in turn lead him, and my readers on our first grand expedition. The Great Hajj' to Torval.

 

 

 

Chapter I

 

 

 

Passing the lowliest bazaar in all of the Imperial Market Place for what seemed like the seven hundredth time, Giotto was waiting in growing impatience for its unscrupulous proprietor's belated arrival. A half passed Dawn and no sign of its store hand or the incorrigible M'Rigash. Giotto's imminent success relied on a most untrustworthy Khajiit 'procurer of rarities', who had been suspected of more than his fair share of the Market Place's illegal black market activities. How he had eluded the Tower Guard and scoffed off foreclosure for as long as he had, was a mysterious enigma that rivaled the now approaching Suthay-raht himself.

 

"You have been waiting long, yes? Your cloak and hair... You look a bit like M'Rigash today, no?", grinned the hurried Khajiit as he scurried about, opening the establishment.

 

Giotto hadn't time for veiled pleasantries as he rebuked, "Yes, well. You have everything, correct?"

 

"M'Rigash has everything."

 

"Everything on the list?", Giotto inquired again.

 

The Khajiit reached under the smallest shelf, revealing a sizable black satchel stocked to its brim, as the younger Suthay store hand entered the tented enclosure. A short volley of Ta'agra ensued, only half understood by the restless Imperial. Giotto motioned towards the satchel as the the cat-man yielded to greater prerogatives. Clawed hand unclasped the dark bag, as its content was mentally catalogued by De'Aguirre; A tinkered jar of black boot polish, pie gelatin, a Northern Khajiiti Nomad's shawl and budi, several elixirs of Nights-Eye, a Potion of Acrobacy, a small flask of granulated Moon Sugar, half of a Skooma hookah apparatus, and various cakes, pastries and sugar cured game meats.

 

M'Rigash leaned in, and lowered his head, "Your last item, it was easy to come by, but... It will cost double."

 

In a hurry, De'Aguirre conceded and opened his purse, as the stock boy was dismissed by a now noticeably turbulent M'Rigash. The Cat settled while reaching into a concealed, inside pocket. A tiny clear phial capped with wax and strung with twine had been the missing and most important item. Reluctantly, the Suthay-raht abnegated the entire cache to the Imperial's custody, as Giotto rushed for the exit, hoping to still make his overdue waterfront rendezvous. Black pack in tow and the phial safley around his neck, the congested morning denizens made a quick avenue of passage less than optimal. Cutting through the various mazed alleyways of Green Emperor's Way, Giotto had found a brief moment to reminisce over the long and strange undertaking it had took getting up to this early, yet significant point.

 

During Tiber's unification of the various Tamrielic provinces, a political Elsweyr insurgency had proven futile. Though a third of the Imperial-Elsweyr border had been garrisoned by battle hardened Legions from the Argonian front lines, only the Rimmen had unofficially sworn fealty. Once an Akaviri metropolis, the outer rims were now a deserted, canyon-ed dominion, ruthlessly guarded by the Lunar Extremists. The outer rims, or 'Rimmen', in Cyrodiilic, was governed by the native warrior class, the Raj' Khaji'. Faith driven soldiers practiced in all forms of 'Two-Moons-Dance' and forged steel. After a militaristic approach failed, the Raj' Khaji' were deemed a 'Martial Race' in an effort to sway Imperial Citizenship. The Empire exhausted every avenue to win over the dauntless and valiant Raj' Khaji' through monetary favor. Unfortunately the Khajiits had no appreciation for Imperial gold, nor a grasp of the standard economics which represent currencies. The Cat folk of Elsweyr, along with the Rimmen Raj' relied on a trade that was standardized in Moon Sugar, and sugar vendettas. Not until the holiest of the Rimmen Imam's was assassinated by Torval nationalists in the Tenmar, did the Raj' Khaji' accept Imperial terms. As an official ally of the Septim Empire, the Raj' mediated a smooth transition from Elsweyri Clan Mother Rule to that of the Emperor's. By the turn of the Era, and the end of the unification, Elsweyr and Tamriel were in a mutual agreement to share certain customary titles for prosperity's sake and the original, ancient governing bodies would remain intact, if only in spirit. With that, the old pilgrim routes were re-opened and the new Era began.

 

As the provinces settled, Giotto's station at Fort Sphinxmoth was disbanded, allowing him to study the doctrine of Ahnurr and Fadomai, height of the Khajiit polytheistic pantheon, along with other Khajiit Mythology, on his own accord. Various excursions into the sands of Northern Elsweyr filled De' Aguirre with curious optimism. On several occasions a cloaked Giotto deceived nomadic caravans into thinking he was an Ohmes, or Ohmes-raht, across the border. Studying under the apprenticeship of a previous Raj' Khaji Imam on sabbatical at Sphinxmoth during the war, Giotto had acquired the informal rank of Raj' Hajji', allowing him to wear the ceremonial Green-Gold Janeu. On a terminal grant from the Geographical Society, the learned Imperial resided back to the White-Gold Tower in preparation for his first grand experiment in social adventuring.

 

A route-less band of Raj' Khaji' expatriates would meet an incognito De' Aguirre at the water's front edge, early afternoon, on the first moon in the Hajji' Ja-Kha'jay. Giotto would not only be the first non-Khajiit to take the holy pilgrimage, but would also be the first Man or Mer to enter Torval and face the Mane in person. A life's worth of seafaring and unorthodox, beast-folk tutelage embraced Giotto's mind, as he rubbed the pie gelatin furiously into his unkempt hair. Boot polish followed, as Giotto dabbed his follicles and face with black leopard marks. Finally entering the archways of the Maritime district, the explorer uncapped the clear phial and dotted his neck, as his 'Imperial to Ohmes' transformation concluded.

 

Hiding his nails from view, Giotto approached the smallest and most streamlined vessel docked amongst the various Imperial cogs and galleys. Gazing over the Khajiit's ship, many notable fundamentals were absent. Devoid of a manrope or mezzanine, the boat hadn't ladders, nor torched quarters or storage, for the Beast Folk of Elsweyr needn't assistance scaling a mast, or seeing below darkened decks. The Xebec had a long, overhanging bowsprit and protruding mizzen mast, but no weaponry other than one ballista at the bow. The scorpion projectile was attached to a line as long as the ship, and anchored with an Ebony cross. A peculiar device, but practical as the Raj' Khaji's vessel was built for outrunning the opposition, and slowing their pursuit at the same time.

 

As the boarding plank descended, Giotto held his breath as he transited aboard. Met by a robed member of the ballast-crew, De' Aguirre hesitantly asked for the ships Captain. Leaning against the gangway, the Khajiit didn't acknowledge the Imperial's inquiry. Ta'agra would have to be used exclusively with the Raj', as most of their band hadn't learned the tongues or expressions of Man. Giotto faked a Budi accent, " Rabi vabi-iit?"

 

"Va. Va, I will get him.", as the ships-mate un-postured and subsided below deck.

 

The largest Cat the Imperial had ever seen emerged from below quarters, unveiling his face from his enormous Janeu. Bespeckled accentuations interwoven with a life's worth of battle scars and an emerald glassed eye, sized up the shorter De' Aguirre.

 

"You almost look like Ohmes. I krin in pride, for deceptions are the ways of a Khajiit."

 

The ruse had been uncovered! Giotto, foot behind the other, slowly moved back towards the boarding plank.

 

"Relax my friend. You are welcomed aboard, and to accompany us on the Hajji' Ja-Kha'jay. Not many have such Gaul. I am Ra'Abheer and I will protect you with my life, my small friend.", shouted the boisterous Cathay-raht.

 

Rimmen Raj' had always shown Imperial curiosity acceptance, and this interaction proved no different, as a reposed Giotto settled, showing his hands for the first time. The Cathay spoke again, "Your nails are too short, keep them covered. You... also smell of urine?"

 

Instinctively, Giotto grasped his neck. Perhaps he had put too much of the clear phial's contents on himself? The Captain signaled for a cast off and as the anchor raised, Giotto sought a bucket to wash his throat off. Passing the harbor masters view, the explorer was on course, heading down the Niben in brisk fashion.

Edited March 22, 2012 by Fortunado3

[SinderionsBones]

@daniellewinsky: Sounds interesting if you adapted it and made it a story about a person. Edited March 21, 2012 by SinderionsBones

[DanielLiswinski]

@daniellewinsky: Sounds interesting if you adapted it and made it a story about a person.

 

So, you mean, I should give it a Try and write a Story about a Game I still don't have? Hmmm, could be interessting. :D

P.S.: I know, my Last Name is pretty wierd. :D Don't worry, not many can spell it right, so I'm not mad at you. ;)

Edited March 21, 2012 by DanielLiswinski

[SinderionsBones]

oh duh, I was thinking it was your mod idea >.< way to pay attention... lol nevermind.

[DanielLiswinski]

Actually it is still (!!!) a Mod Request, but noone is paying attention to it, so I thought, I could find out, what you think. To bad, that I have to work again (was ill for the last week :( )so there will be not much time, to write a hole story, but many thougts of me are driven me crazy for ideas for a nice Story. *sigh* If only time would stand still......

[DanielLiswinski]

How is the Progress?