Picture Book "THE STORY TELLER" Post A Pic Tell a Story in TESV

[Kaos Wulf]

Merry Christmas, everybody! I've got a special little something for all you good boys and girls this year. Remember that one long-awaited thing I should have written about two months ago? Well allow me to finally present...

 

 

I'm glad you posted the first act to this, since I missed it completely. This along with your piece on Leijona were both a good read. A little suggestion to benefit you in finding your own works, you should blog them so that they're all nicely kept in one spot.

 

 

[tomz31790]

Merry Christmas, everybody! I've got a special little something for all you good boys and girls this year. Remember that one long-awaited thing I should have written about two months ago? Well allow me to finally present...

 

 

Wonderful! Doesn't even need many pictures to tell the story. Looking forward to more.

 

PS. Is that face/body paint a racemenu plugin?

[Guest NeonFirefly]

 

Merry Christmas, everybody! I've got a special little something for all you good boys and girls this year. Remember that one long-awaited thing I should have written about two months ago? Well allow me to finally present...

 

 

Wonderful! Doesn't even need many pictures to tell the story. Looking forward to more.

 

PS. Is that face/body paint a racemenu plugin?

 

 

Thanks a lot! Her war paints are all RaceMenu plugins - I'm using a combination of TairenSoul's female warpaints on her face, and KJ Tattoos on her body.

[blazingsai]

Flame-Child: Part Two

Chapter Three: Trials (Part Three)

They are so tiring...

Links to Past Chapters:

 

Link to Part One:

 

Part One: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/23977-picture-book-the-story-teller-post-a-pic-tell-a-story-in-tesv/?p=992192

 

Link to Previous Chapters:

 

Current Arc:

Chapter One: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1000093

Chapter Two: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1015993

 

Specials:

Number One (Carciel): http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1014707

Number Two (Nyleine): http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1024876

 

 

 

Story

Part One

 

 

“Down goes the Pretender,” Telind said. “Laughable. It’s completely laughable that someone as frail… as powerless as her was able to fell me twice!”

“But she did.” Telind narrowed his eyes, glaring at Niyleen lying motionless on the floor. “As much as it pains me to say this, that bitch defeated me twice… even when my Mistress gave me her boon… ARGH! Stupid sisters… damn you!!”

“Niyleen…”

 

“And you! I’ll get to you next you…”

 

Nyleine tuned him out. This wasn’t what she wanted. This wasn’t the ending she saw when Niyleen had finally accepted her into her heart.  She cupped her sister’s face, and then brushed her hair from her face. It should have been me… No, I shouldn’t have ever met up with her. I should have never been born!!!

Telind flicked the blood from his blade and smirked.  “Now then former Mistress.” There was a bit of an edge to his tone.  “Not to be disrespectful, but it’s time to be reunited with your Big Sis in Oblivion!”

Sister… Nyleine started to pray to the Gods… any Gods, even a few Daedric Princes to save her sister.

 

“Hey! I said get up! I won’t hesitate to strike you down on your knees and have your blood spray over your sister’s corpse.”

 

…

“…dead…”

 

“You say something Redguard?”

 

Nyleine opened her eyes and glared at the Altmer. He knew that she like her sister resented being called that as they weren’t pureblood.  “I’ve had enough of your shit Altmer. I could just undo the spell I cast on you, but that’d be too easy… too good for the likes of you…”

“What happened to that proper speech of yours,” Telind taunted.  “You sound like a certain no name necromancer that I used to know.”

 

Nyleine drew her sword never taking her eyes off him. “It’s clear that you have a death wish…”

“…Let me fulfill it!” Nyleine lunged at Telind trying to catch the elf by surprise.

But to no avail. No sooner did she take the air did Telind counter with an attack of his own.

 

Stuck in midair facing an attack that not only was an offensive but defensive maneuver, Nyleine tried to block it but was spun by the force of the attack and sent flying back towards her sister.

 

Pleased with this, Telind stuck his blade in the ground and said, “Is that it? I expected more from you, but I guess I shouldn’t have. After all, what can a mortal really do when faced with the unadulterated power of a Daedric Prince?”

“Amazing… just amazing…” That arrogance of Telind’s was beginning to creep back to the surface. “To think, before I couldn’t hold a torch to Flame-Child and I couldn’t even hope to raise a hand towards Soul-Crusher but now…”

His grin got even bigger.  “Look at you two. Defeated by the one person on Tamriel you both KNEW was powerless against you. You don’t kow how much this… exhilarates me. I feel alive again!”

 

“Kill them thrall. This game of revenge is starting to bore me…”

 

“Of-of course Mistress. A-at once!”

“Still,” Telind said as he took one last glance of appreciation at his handiwork.  “Something about this is too surreal…”

“Is this it? Not like I’m complaining, but when I got my revenge I thought it was going to be something… grander? I don’t know…”

 

“You test my patience thrall, and I am not amused. Kill the half-breeds now or damn yourself. To where? I’ll see which realm strikes me.”

 

“Damn… and here I wanted to savor this…”

Telind walked over to the sisters and lifted his sword above his head just like he had when he struck Niyleen down. “Well then, I wanted to draw this out a bit, but you know the drill. Orders are orders.”

He was about to bring is sword down on Nyleine when something caught his eye. “I’m amazed… That bitch is tougher than I imagined.  Her cut may be deep, but she is still holding on like a pest. Just die already Pretender!”

Starting his downward swing again, Telind froze yet again due to something he caught in the corner of his other eye; an otherworldly aura gathering around Nyleine.  “You sisters are so annoying! Can’t either of you just die normally!?”

“Tsk… the elder or the younger sister…”

Telind, feeling that Boethiah was about to chew his head off again, decided to finally act. As he brought down his blade to strike Nyleine, he yelled, “Time to die, Mistress.”

 

 

Part Two

 

 

A sudden burst of force pushed Telind back and made him defend instinctively. “What the hell? She shouldn’t have nearly enough power to challenge me! I’m the one with the power. I’M the one that’s blessed by a GOD! Know your place, Red—”

“AAAARGH!!!!” A flood of electricity engulfed Telind. Sparks flew all around him and the blistering sensation he was feeling warned him that even this thrall began to feel how pain felt again.

Kill…  Destroy… Eridicate… Avenge!!!

Nyleine blasted wave after wave of magic at Telind. She wanted to lash out at him, to not only physically hurt the Almer, but inflict pain verbally. But the words would not come. Her rage did not allow her the luxury to form cohesive sentences and so killing this insignificant thrall would have to do.

“H-h-hold on Redguard! S-stop blasting me,” Telind pleaded.

As time went on, he thought that the pain would continue forever, but as if on a whim, Nyleine suddenly stopped and stared towards the ceiling like she was possessed.

“IS THIS SOME KIND OF A JOKE,” Telind roared. “You really think I won’t kill you… that I can’t kill you! Oh you should have kept me down while you had the chance.”

 

Nyleine looked finally looked at Telind, but she didn’t see him. She saw the space behind him, the space he was occupying, but the man she had once conversed with over drinks at Sleeping Giant Inn was long gone.  The knowledgeable sage that she thought she had to kill, the Altmer she made her thrall… her partner, Telind the man she knew was gone and what she faced was no more than a puppet barely hanging on its strings.

“Look at me damn it! I’m standing right here!! I’m not some lowlife peon with only five repeating speaking lines.”

Nyleine finally found her voice and said lasciviously, “Whenever you’re ready to stop sucking on Boethiah’s teats and see what a real woman  can…” She narrowed her eyes. “Screw the pretense, when I’m done with you you’ll be thanking all the Divines for me to stop.”

“In your dreams!”

 

Telind rushed at Nyleine, and with a sigh she retaliated with her previous attack from earlier, a concentrated but multi cast version of a super charged version of the novice spell Sparks. The initial impact of the spell halted the Altmer’s progress, but he slowly continued to creep closer towards Nyleine.

This isn’t enough. Nyleine swore under her breath. This man killed her sister and all of her rage only amounted to THIS? This isn’t NEARLY enough!

“FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK! B-BOETHIAH! HELP ME!!!” Telind cried as Nyleine continued her relentless attack.

But his words fell on deaf ears. He may be an undead blessed with Boethiah’s boon, but in the face of Nyleine’s unmatched magical capabilities, he was but a babe before a God. 

 

Being brought to a knee, Telind cried out, “F-forgive me!! You win!” Finally acknowledging Nyleine’s dominance.  “I… ahh!!! I… realized that I can’t stand up t-to you. PLEASE! Have mercy!!”

This still isn’t enough! Nyleine felt incompetent, weak, and useless. She could have done this from the start, SHOULD have done this, but she hid.  She hid like she’s always hid be it behind her father, her thralls, Telind, and now Niyleen.  Every time she hid, someone died. No more…. NO MORE!!! Ignoring Telind’s pleas, she began to channel more and more of her Magicka into the spells until she felt herself getting lost in her own power…

It was then that Nyleine released it all. Her anger, her sorrow, her fury, all in one densely focused uncontrollable continuous blast. The magic spilt forth from her engulfing everything in its path.

Nyleine assumed that Telind was screaming his lungs off as his flesh was being ripped from his bones and being burned to cinders. She could barely see him within the weaves of electricity covering the room, and even if she could all she could hear was white noise.

Sparks suddenly began to land uncomfortably close to Nyleine, and she angrily sucked her teeth.  Shit! Focus, FOCUS!! Even if Niyleen was dead, she’d be damned if she was going to let her big sister’s corpse be desecrated by her own foolish actions. Calming her mind, Nyleine was able to stabilize the spell and send the majority of it directly at Telind. Good… just a bit more…

More…. More More MORE MOOOOORE!!!! Nyleine felt her hands begin to burn but she didn’t care. This amount of revenge wouldn’t add up, couldn’t add up to the loss she was feeling. I had a home, a family. My life was just about to begin anew… but you… YOU DID THIS! There will be no Oblivion for you, no reincarnation, no afterlife at all!!

 

A shriek cut through the white noise, and it was then that Nyleine knew enough was enough.

 

When you die, even Sithis won’t be able to take you to the Void.

Nyleine canceled her spells and absorbed as much of the residual lightning from within the lair as she could.  When she was done all that was left was Telind completely debuffed lying face down in the dirt and Nyleine standing over him shrouded in a dark aura with a look of pure hatred in her eyes.

“Times like this make me wish I was a lower caliber of mage,” Nyleine cursed. Telind, although clearly beaten, did not outwardly look like he had just been electrocuted for over ten minutes straight. “Damn old magicks, when you make someone immortal you truly make them immortal…”

Nyleine snapped her fingers and Telind began to float in the air as though he were getting grabbed by the throat by an invisible hand. 

 

“W-what now?” Telind said weakly.  “Are y-you not done? Just end it… end my existence! There’s nothing left for me…”

“You do NOT get to tell me when I’m done thrall,” Nyleine said. Her voice was deeper, darker than usual and she knew why. Possession. Last time this had happened it was a former Lich, but this time she had no clue which of the souls she had accidentally tapped into.  But it mattered little for this soul and Nyleine shared the same opinion over the matter.

“I should make this painful. I should rip you limb from limb, no… I should scorch your body slowly over time starting with your hand and feet. Then I should feed you the remains as I move slowly closer to your torso. Maybe I should revert your feelings back to those of a mortal? Maybe I should just rip your soul in half and watch as even Oblivion won’t take you…”

 

Darene Fratecou… I never imagined we’d ever be on the same page. Fratecou was a half ass necromancer that believed that the purest form of darkness came in the form of the ultimate combination of Restoration, Destruction, and Conjuration or what she liked to call torture. ‘Fratecou always liked to say, Death is peace. Death is salvation. It is life that is truly darkness.  Only in life can on experience the purest darkness.’

“As much as I agree with her, I wish you would just die!” Suddenly Nyleine stuck her hand through where Telind’s heart would have been had she not removed all of his organs before making him a thrall. “Bring her back… IF YOU WON’T DIE, THEN BRING HER BACK! BRING BACK NIYLEEN!!!” 

Pain stuck Telind’s face but she didn’t care. He muttered something to her, but she didn’t care. His existence was now trivial to her in every shape and form.

 

With one final look into Telind’s eyes, Nyleine knew she had postponed this long enough. In one motion she removed her hand from his chest and blasted him full of sparks with the other one.  Unlike her previous attacks, this one was aimed at the core of what was making him “Immortal”

Telind smiled as he realized what was happening to him. He looked down at Nyleine said almost in a whisper said, “Thank you Mistress… for everything…”

Nyleine turned her nose up at him and said, “’Thank you’? Are you insane!? I killed you, twice! And you dare to thank me? I… I—”

 

“Tell Niyleen it was never personal…”

 

“Tell her? She’s alive!? Wait, Telind. TELIND!!!” But it was too late. He had already turned into ashes and within the pile she saw two black soul gems.

 “This is why I hate thralls. Piece of crap suicidal undead maggots.” As she calmed down, the aura around her died down. She knew exactly what Telind meant by ‘it was never personal’.  He was a thrall. And no matter what he said or did, all he really wanted was to die.  Thinking back, if he were a normal person she would have killed him many times over for patronizing Niyleen, but Telind was special. WAS.

Suddenly Nyleine let out a shriek and fell to her knees as all at once her body felt the after effects of using so much magic in such an unfiltered way. There wasn’t a part of her body that didn’t ache, but her hands and her head were getting the worst out of it.  Her hands felt like a sabercat was gnawing on them nonstop, and her head felt like someone had been beating her upside the head with a mace for the past hour. This… aaahhh! This pain… it has to be a side effect of being near—

“Niyleen!” Nyleine turned quickly remembering Telind’s final words.

Disregarding how she felt, she crawled over to her big sister and noticed that Telind had indeed been telling the truth.  It may have been barely, but Niyleen was still breathing softly.

Telind, you idiot. You should have just said you wanted to be released. We didn’t have to go through all of this.  Nyleine let out a relieved sigh.

Using all of her remaining strength, she picked up Niyleen and said soothingly, “It’s all right now Sis. I’ve got you, and I’m going to make everything alright.”

 

Nyleine carried her slowly over toward her workbench and laid her down.  She then cleaned and treated Niyleen’s wounds.  “I-I did everything right, by the book. But Niyleen… she’s only getting worse.”

Pacing back and forth Nyleine began to panic. If I wasn’t weak from using my amulet…

 

“Do you need a healer?”

Nyleine whipped her head around and saw an unfamiliar woman in black standing there with unfamiliar magic in her hands.

 

“I said, do you need a healer?”

 

 

[apathetic]

Hey guys, introducing Ember, a young Nord woman heading out into Skyrim to chase fame and fortune.




Join Ember and friends in a series of vignettes throughout her adventures. In this part Ember in joined by her childhood friend, Erik the 'Slayer', as she departs he childhood home of Rorikstead and aims to join the Companions.

 

This is NSFW so don't open the spoilers unprepared.

Jumping straight in...

Evening - Shoal Rest Farm. Rorikstead outskirts



Ember: "Erik, I love you..."



Erik: "You won't believe how long I've been waiting for this. I've been in love with you for years. It's fantastic to finally hold you like this."

Ember: "What's this pressing into my stomach? Seems like someone wants some attention..."



Ember: "Erik, you're so big..."



Erik: "That feels incredible... Your mouth... Nnngghh..."

Ember: *Slurp*



Erik: "Holy shit, ahh! It's going down your throat..."



Erik: "Wait! Stop, I'm about to..."



Ember: "Hold up, lover. You're not allowed to cum yet... I want it somewhere else."



Ember: "Carry me to the bed, I'm going to ride you raw."



Erik: "Talos, I love you..."



Ember: "Lay back and and let me take care of you..."

Erik: "Fuuuuck, you're so hot... So wet...."



Erik: "It's so tight...I can't hold it... I'm gonna..."



Ember: "It's fine, let it all loose... Cum... Cum... Come on-"



Ember: "What's taking Erik so long. We organised to leave early this morning. At this rate we're not going to make it to Whiterun by nightfall."



Ember: "Still sleeping like a baby. And he's gone to bed wearing his new armour as well."



Ember: "Still such a child. Probably dreaming about food as usual. Come on wake up!"

Ember: *KICK*



Erik: "Wha...?"

Ember: "Come on wake up sleepyhead. We need to get going."

Erik: "Ember? What's going - why are you dressed?"

Ember: "Huh?"

Erik: "It was a dream...?"



Erik: "No way..."



Erik: NNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooo!!!!!!"



Erik: "... The world is a cold and lonely place..."



Ember: "Well, I don't really get it but you better get your gear together and say goodbye to your old man. We need to get this adventure underway."

Erik: *Sniff* *Sob*



Ember: "It's a lot later than I wanted to get away..."

Ember: *Checks journal*

Ember: "Here it is... The miscellaneous quest to investigate joining the Companions... So according to the marker... Whiterun is thataway."

Erik: *Sigh*



Ember: "Stop looking so down. It's the beginning of a new adventure! Tell you what, the last one in to Whiterun covers the ale!"



Ember: "Ready... set... GO!"

[Standman]

Hey guys, introducing Ember, a young Nord woman heading out into Skyrim to chase fame and fortune.

 

 

 

Join Ember and friends in a series of vignettes throughout her adventures. In this part Ember in joined by her childhood friend, Erik the 'Slayer', as she departs he childhood home of Rorikstead and aims to join the Companions.

 

This is NSFW so don't open the spoilers unprepared.

 

Jumping straight in...

 

Evening - Shoal Rest Farm. Rorikstead outskirts

 

 

Ember: "Erik, I love you..."

 

 

Erik: "You won't believe how long I've been waiting for this. I've been in love with you for years. It's fantastic to finally hold you like this."

 

Ember: "What's this pressing into my stomach? Seems like someone wants some attention..."

 

 

Ember: "Erik, you're so big..."

 

 

Erik: "That feels incredible... Your mouth... Nnngghh..."

 

Ember: *Slurp*

 

 

Erik: "Holy shit, ahh! It's going down your throat..."

 

 

Erik: "Wait! Stop, I'm about to..."

 

 

Ember: "Hold up, lover. You're not allowed to cum yet... I want it somewhere else."

 

 

Ember: "Carry me to the bed, I'm going to ride you raw."

 

 

Erik: "Talos, I love you..."

 

 

Ember: "Lay back and and let me take care of you..."

 

Erik: "Fuuuuck, you're so hot... So wet...."

 

 

Erik: "It's so tight...I can't hold it... I'm gonna..."

 

 

Ember: "It's fine, let it all loose... Cum... Cum... Come on-"

 

 

Ember: "What's taking Erik so long. We organised to leave early this morning. At this rate we're not going to make it to Whiterun by nightfall."

 

 

Ember: "Still sleeping like a baby. And he's gone to bed wearing his new armour as well."

 

 

Ember: "Still such a child. Probably dreaming about food as usual. Come on wake up!"

 

Ember: *KICK*

 

 

Erik: "Wha...?"

 

Ember: "Come on wake up sleepyhead. We need to get going."

 

Erik: "Ember? What's going - why are you dressed?"

 

Ember: "Huh?"

 

Erik: "It was a dream...?"

 

 

Erik: "No way..."

 

 

Erik: NNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooo!!!!!!"

 

 

Erik: "... The world is a cold and lonely place..."

 

 

Ember: "Well, I don't really get it but you better get your gear together and say goodbye to your old man. We need to get this adventure underway."

 

Erik: *Sniff* *Sob*

 

 

Ember: "It's a lot later than I wanted to get away..."

 

Ember: *Checks journal*

 

Ember: "Here it is... The miscellaneous quest to investigate joining the Companions... So according to the marker... Whiterun is thataway."

 

Erik: *Sigh*

 

 

Ember: "Stop looking so down. It's the beginning of a new adventure! Tell you what, the last one in to Whiterun covers the ale!"

 

 

Ember: "Ready... set... GO!"

 

Nice story, short but really sweet (a bit humorous too). I'd been writing something similar for my upcoming first story post over the holidays invoving Erik the Slayer as well, but it seems like I've gotta overhaul it now.   Hopefully I don't post something too similar. *scrambling wildly for ideas*

[uptower]

Started my own saga rising through the ranks to be a bandit leader.  Did it as a new thread before I found this.

 

First few entries of 'The Brigand Diaries' have no screens.  Now regularly updated with screenshots.

 

http://www.loverslab.com/topic/41277-the-brigand-diaries-returns-with-screens/

 

No spoiler tags on pics in that thread yet but be warned - raunchiness is commonplace.

[apathetic]

 

 

Nice story, short but really sweet (a bit humorous too). I'd been writing something similar for my upcoming first story post over the holidays invoving Erik the Slayer as well, but it seems like I've gotta overhaul it now.    Hopefully I don't post something too similar. *scrambling wildly for ideas*

 

 

Ah, sorry about that. 

 

Erik is going to be one of the main characters as this little adventure continues. Next part should be up soonish, it's actually a journal snippet from Erik, all written and drafted just need to complete the pictures. A fair bit longer than the last (and safer for work) covering a bit of the personal history of Ember and Erik.

 

I'll also be using Borgakh the Steel Heart, Lydia and a personal NPC follower to round out the party so feel free to pre empt me on any of those as vengeance... 

 

That said Erik the Slayer is pretty under-appreciated so he deserves some more love. 

[Standman]

 

 

 

Nice story, short but really sweet (a bit humorous too). I'd been writing something similar for my upcoming first story post over the holidays invoving Erik the Slayer as well, but it seems like I've gotta overhaul it now.    Hopefully I don't post something too similar. *scrambling wildly for ideas*

 

 

Ah, sorry about that. 

 

Erik is going to be one of the main characters as this little adventure continues. Next part should be up soonish, it's actually a journal snippet from Erik, all written and drafted just need to complete the pictures. A fair bit longer than the last (and safer for work) covering a bit of the personal history of Ember and Erik.

 

I'll also be using Borgakh the Steel Heart, Lydia and a personal NPC follower to round out the party so feel free to pre empt me on any of those as vengeance... 

 

That said Erik the Slayer is pretty under-appreciated so he deserves some more love. 

 

 

No worries!   I'm sure I'll be able to think up of something. I actually quite appreciate the way you used the pictures to let the story flow well. Ember's got quite the charming grin.

 

And agreed on Erik the Slayer, he's pretty badass.

[apathetic]

Okay, here's the next snippet.

Excerpt from the Journal of Erik the Slayer



Dear reader, the book you have in your hands is the journal of the legendary adventurer, Erik the Slayer. Doubtless you know all about me from the many bards’ tales and songs detailing my many exploits, but it may interest you to hear about my humble beginnings.



I was born and raised in the small farming community of Rorikstead, in the Whiterun Hold of Skyrim.



My father, Mralki, runs the local Frostfruit Inn. He is a former Legionnaire who served in the Great War before retiring here.



I started this journal under the advice of my dearest childhood friend and super secret crush, Ember.



Ember is the only other person here my age and as such we grew up with only each other as playmates and have always been the closest friends.



Ember lives just outside Rorikstead at the Shoal Rest Farm her parents left her after their deaths a few years back.

Even from a very young age it had been obvious the Ember was more than a little strange. Keeping a journal she constantly updated whenever something happened to her,



Ember: “Sweet, sidequest complete!”

Incredibly skilled at anything she tried, always performing odd training,



Erik: “Ember, what the hell are you doing up there?”



Ember: “I'm training in light armour and restoration!”



Ember: "Wheee!"

Erik: “Holy shit!”



Ember: “Ooowww!”



Ember: “My restoration’s gone up again!”

The way she could learn magic spells just by looking at the cover of a spell tome,



Ember: “Oh, a spell book! Flames, huh? I wonder what this one does…”



Ember: “Mwahaha! Burn!”



Erik: “Damn it! Not inside!”

How she would always know the way to places people had told her about even just in passing,



Ember: “Red Eagle Redoubt’s that way, huh? Erik, it’s time to go sword hunting!”

And also how she would occasionally blank out looking at the sky and then suddenly demonstrate a new skill.





Ember: “Now I can do this with both hands! You have fire! You have fire, too! Everyone can have some! Bwahahaha!”





Also worth noting about Ember is that she lives up to her name and is a bit of a firebug.

Another odd thing about Ember was the way people reacted to her, often asking her to perform all sorts of tasks, despite having never met her before,


Random Fugitive: “Can you hold onto this for me? I’ll be back for it later. Kthxbye!”



Ember: “Wha-“

How she always knew people’s names before they could introduce themselves,



Kleppr: “Welcome to the Silver-Blood Inn, my name is Kle-“



Ember: “Kleppr. Yeah, yeah, I know. Did you have any convenient rumours to set me on to any sidequests?”

Kleppr: “Well now that you mention it…”

And how every courier in Skyrim always knew where she was.





Ember (whispers): “Sneaky, sneaky, sneak. Gonna steal all your stuff!”



Courier: “I’ve been looking for you. Got something I’m supposed to deliver. Your hands only.”



Ember: “You idiot...”

Bandit Outlaw: “What! Who’s there?!”

Despite all the oddities about Ember, she was one of the sweetest people I have ever known, provided you kept her away from fire





And ignored her kleptomania.





There was just something about that girl,















I was seriously in love with her.



So when Ember decided to head out to Whiterun to join the Companions I was on board.



And despite distraction,









After distraction,





After distraction,







We finally arrived in Whiterun,



And that's were my adventures began...

 

[yui0820]

Elywn's back story.

Part 1

 

 

 

 

 

Part 2

 

 

 

 

 

Part 3 - END

 

 

 

-THE END-

 

 

[uptower]

Brigand Diaries updated:  adult content so link is in spoiler.

 

 

http://www.loverslab.com/topic/41277-the-brigand-diaries-returns-with-screens/?p=1050672

[apathetic]

Next snippet. Very NSFW again. And 60 pics.

The Bannered Mare - Whiterun



Lydia (thinking): 'Why am I stuck here with this lout? Surely my Thane could left him with the Companions rather than me..."



Lydia: "Ughh, this is crap ale as usual. Nothing like what they serve at Dragonsreach."



Erik (slurring): "Why'd Ember leave me behind when she went to meet the Greybeards, huh? Wasstha all 'bout?"



Lydia: "Not just anyone is allowed to visit High Hrothgar. Most pilgrims are stopped at the gates, only those talented in the Voice are allowed entry."



Lydia (thinking): 'Better staying here where there's fire and ale rather than freezing my tits off on the Throat of the World.'



Erik: "Dammit, Ember's all alone on that mountain with those decrepit perverts. Who knows what's going on right now."

Lydia: "Perverts? I'm pretty sure the Greybeards abstain from worldly desires like sex..."

Erik: "Like that will stop them. It will probably happen like this..."



Ember: "So this is High Hrothgar, awesome!"







Ember: "Ah, hello Masters, I am Ember the Dragonborn. I have come in response to your summons."



Arngeir: "Dragonborn, welcome to High Hrothgar home of the Greybeards. We have been anxiously awaiting your arrival."



Erik: "Cheers! I'm ready for my super awesome Dragonborn training now!"



Arngeir: "Naturally, we can begin the training immediately. First things first, for this training we will require you to remove all your armour and clothing."



Ember: "You need me to be naked?!"



Arngeir: "It is exceptionally important that there is no clothing to interfere with the mystical elements of this training."



Ember: "Well if you say so... I'm sure I can trust the Greybeards."



Arngeir: "Excellent! Now I will need you to wear this and get on your knees in the centre of the markings on the floor here."



Ember (shakily): "O-okay, ready..."



Greybeards: *Snicker*

Arngeir: "We will now begin the training."



Arngeir: "Now open your mouth, the first step of this training in a special throat massage."



Arngeir: "Wider. I need to fit the special massage tool in your mouth."



Ember: "Mmghff!"



Ember (thinking): 'What the hell is this? It's warm, doesn't feel like any massager to I've ever come across.'



Arngeir: "Fantastic! This is truly the mouth and tongue of a Dragonborn!"



Arngeir: "Already? Quickly swallow the potion coming out of the tool now!"



Ember: *Cough* *Cough* "What the hell is this? It smells awful!"



Arngeir: "You wasted most of the potion that time, we will need to repeat that again. This tool is a little bigger, you will need to get it right down your throat this time."

Wulfgar: *Smirks*



Ember (thinking): 'How the hell will this fit down my throat?'





Ember: "This is not going to fit Master."



Arngeir: "Coat it in saliva, that should lubricate it enough to fit,"



Ember: "Mmmmff!"



Einarth (thinking): 'Oh, Talos. Look at that arse! When is my turn coming already!'



Ember: *Slurp*



Einarth (thinking): 'Fuck it! I can't wait any longer!'



Einarth (thinking): 'It's been so long - where the hell does it go in again?'



Ember: "What's going on back there?!"



Ember: "Ahh! Talos, what are you doing!"



Einarth (thinking): 'Nnghh! It's so tight... Why the hell did I every give this up?'

Arngeir: "Dammit, Einarth! Well the games up now, may as well just go with it now."



Erik: "And then they would all pounce on poor Ember..."



Erik: "And then this would happen..."



Erik: "And this..."







Ember: "Mmmgh!!!"



Ember: "Aahhh! Stop it, you're breaking me apart!"







Erik: "And that, until finally..."



Ember: "No more! I can't take it!"



Arngeir: "This will never stop, Dragonborn! From now on you will service the Greybeards! Bwahahaha!"



Erik: "No I can't let that happen to my sweet, innocent Ember!"



Lydia (thinking): 'I need to get away from this idiot... Stupidity like this could be contagious.' *Down drinks*



Lydia: "Kay, I'm done. I'm heading back to Breezehome."



Lydia: "Wha? Is that..."



Lydia: "Ember?"



Erik: "Yay, Ember!"



Ember: "Oh! Hey guys!"

Lydia: "Aren't you supposed to be with the Greybeards?"

Ember: "Hmm? Oh that... Amren needed someone to find his missing family sword. Naturally I volunteered to take care of that first!"

Lydia: "So while dragons are appearing all over Skyrim and slaughtering innocent people, rather than answering the summons of the one group of people likely to have knowledge about the current crisis, you went out looking for some random guy's sword? Is that about right, my Thane?"

Ember: "Right you are! Off to the Greybeards then!"

 

----------

 

Outside The Bannered Mare, Whiterun



Battle-Borns/Grey-Manes: *Rabble* *Rabble* *Rabble*

Ember: "I smell a sidequest! Hey, what's going on here?"



Lydia: "Fuck this. I'm going back for more drinks..."

 

[blazingsai]

Flame-Child: Part Two

Chapter Four: The Calm

There's always one before a mess...

Links to Past Chapters:

 

Link to Part One:

 

Part One: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/23977-picture-book-the-story-teller-post-a-pic-tell-a-story-in-tesv/?p=992192

 

Link to Previous Chapters:

 

Current Arc:

Chapter One: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1000093

Chapter Two: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1015993

Chapter Three: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1026943

 

Specials:

Number One (Carciel): http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1014707

Number Two (Nyleine): http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1024876

 

 

 

Story

Part One

 

 

Niyleen remembered this darkness, this abyss that was inside her. With every passing moment she expected Nega to come out and say ‘If only I was in control, I’d never lose to such a powerless thrall,’ but she never did, and eventually the emptiness of it all got to her and she lost perception of what was up, and what was down.

For a time she floated through the darkness.  At first with relief. “I’ve done all I can for Nyleine…” It may not have been the ending her sister wanted, but it was the ending she deserved. Niyleen had sifted through her thoughts, knew how much her sister had been through.

 

The pain of killing their father. How torn she was for making Telind a thrall. How torn she was between killing Niyleen and gaining unlimited power and her dream of having a family. How twisted her father had made her think. How desperate she wanted to impress him.  What their father did to them after he had killed them…

 

“…She’ll do fine…”

But soon Niyleen that relief vanished and she began to drown in anguish. “I was too cocky, too confident. I abandoned her, left her with a god-imbued thrall set on vengeance.”  Her heart raced and she couldn’t stop herself from falling.  “She needs me, I need to go back! Let me go back Nega!! Please, I need to save my sister!!!”

This wasn’t the ending Nyleine wanted, nor was it the ending that Niyleen could have had. She had Telind beat, pleading, begging. All she had to do was end him. A single stroke would have sufficed.  Through the neck, and done. It would have been clean, quick, final.

But what’s done is done. Niyleen had failed, and now Telind was exacting his revenge on her little sister—her other half. “I’m such a failure, as a fighter… and a sister…” She finally stopped falling and stared up into the abyss. “How long have I been here?”

“Nonono, that’s not it,” Niyleen said as she got to her knees. “Am I really alive? Or is this abyss… am… am I in the Void?” She tried to wrap her head around it all. Last time she was here it was only for a couple of hours, but this time? Days, weeks, months? Every passing moment felt like eternity and there was no discernable way to figure out whether these feeling were real or otherwise.

“I’m actually dead,” Niyleen said trying her hardest to hold back her tears. “There’s no other way around it. Nega’s not here, I don’t feel a connection with Nyleine, and there’s nothing, absolutely nothing here.” She looked around in the darkness and sighed. “Nothing… except for me…”

“You’re not dead.” The voice called out so suddenly that at first Niyleen thought I was just her imagination. But then it called out again. “You’re not dead.”

 

(Finally) She felt Nega behind her, could visualize her look of superiority, her anger, her… correctness.

‘Why wouldn’t it be? I’m the stronger one, the smarter one. The real question is, which sick and twisted Aedra or Daedra thought that a weak bitchy persona like you should be in control of this body?  Clearly it wasn’t Julianos, because it just isn’t logical.’

 

Niyleen gritted her teeth. Why was she in power? If Nega was in command, Telind would have been burned to a crisp before he could land the first time he lunged at her.

 

“I am not who you think I am.  Don’t doubt yourself, you are stronger than you realize.”

“Go fuck yourself Nega!”

 

“…”

 

No snappy retort? No laugh? No quip about how only someone of low intelligence would so quickly resort to profanities? (What’s your game Nega?)

“Last time I was here, we fought and you won.” Niyleen got to her feet and began to stretch. She didn’t need or want to face Nega at the moment, because she’d get her fill of that in a moment.  “At that time I thought you were wrong. Even in defeat I thought, there must be a reason… a valid reason that I was free and you were caged.”

 

“What was your conclusion?”

“Like you said, I’m stronger than I realize. I might even be stronger than you. My power is limitless, but I can only access but a fraction of its potential whereas you’ve already hard capped at an immense amount.”

 

“You have room for development, and I’m in stasis? When one becomes stagnant, they die. A logical conclusion.”

 

Niyleen turned and drew her blade. “I’m sick of your shit Nega. I’ll defeat you hear and now and prove that I’m the one true—!”

The one staring back at her was… herself! It wasn’t like Nyleine where if you took away the tattoos, changed her hairstyle and some of the scars they’d be the same. She wasn’t shrouded in darkness, her hair color wasn’t inverted, and there wasn’t an immense amount of malice coming from her. This was Niyleen Flame-Child looking at Niyleen Flame-Child.

 

“W-w-who… are you?”

 

She looked at Niyleen with deep sadness on her face. “Fourth… I am the Second.”

 

“Second?”

“This… all of this, is just a game Niyleen.”

 

“A game? I never asked to play a game! I never said—”

 

“You think me or the First had a say in the affairs of the Daedric Princes? Do you think we wanted this to happen? To be a part of this?”

“D-D-Daedric Princes? You’re insane! There’s no way…” Niyleen stopped. How audacious was it for her to be wrapped up in some scheme of theirs? Really, she had just been slain by one of Boethiah’s own and now she wanted to doubt her involvement? (You don’t get that luxury Niyleen. You’re in too deep.) “How… how many of them are involved?”

“If I count your encounter with Boethiah, then all but Hircine and Mephala,” the Second said grimly.  “The First gave in to Mehrunes Dagon. The Dragonborn also gave in to Jyggalag. Sheogorath’s underling keeps purposely slaying hundreds before letting herself die. Molag Bal and Hermaeus Mora—”

 

“Stop, stop, stop! Hold on, okay!” Niyleen’s thoughts were spinning. (This is bigger than I thought, there’s no way I can protect Nyleine from all of this…) She laughed inwardly. Even after such a bombshell she was still concerned for her sister’s wellbeing. (I can’t believe I’ve become so attached… wait, something about her wording…)

“What do you mean ‘The First gave in to Mehrunes Dagon. The Dragonborn also gave in to Jyggalag.’ Who is the First? Why did you word it like that?”

 

“Niyleen…”

 

“Don’t patronize me! What’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?”

 

The Second didn’t say anything for a while. “The First,” she finally said. “Was… IS Nega.”

“W-w-w-what!?! You’re telling me… I have Mehrunes Dagon’s—“

 

“Calm down, Fourth. I will tell you everything.”

 

“You better,” Niyleen said bitterly. “And I want to know everything. If you leave anything out… I’ll end you.”

 

 

Part Two

 

 

“Come on… come on…” Carciel continued to cast Healing Hands alongside other spells but nothing was working. Although was steadily looking better, she was no closer to waking than she was two days ago.

“How is she?” Nyleine said. She had just finished wiping her eyes after recovering a good cry over her sister’s condition.

 

Carciel sucked her teeth. “Tsk, nothing new. She looks well, and she’s not cold any longer, but there’s no sign of waking anytime soon.”

(I don’t get it, why aren’t you waking? There’s literally nothing wrong with you anymore…) Carciel unleashed a final burst of magic onto Niyleen and when that didn’t change anything she reluctantly stopped.

“Why isn’t Niyleen waking,” Carciel said aloud, but more for herself and not to Nyleine. “I may not be a pure healer, but I’ve trained enough with both Alchemy and Restoration magic to know that noting is ailing Flame-Child.” So why won’t she wake?

“The injury she incurred was imbued with Boethiah’s boon. Do you think that has anything—”

 

“No,” Carciel said definitively. “Even though your initial cleaning contaminated the wound, there was no lingering magic. That so called boon was probably one that made your thrall stronger and faster, but that’s about it.  If it were a more magical endowment… I wouldn’t have been able to cure Niyleen as well as I have.”

“But if it’s not because of Boethiah, then what?” Carciel had run out of ideas. There were no signs of magic, poison, or disease. (Could it be old magic? Things taught in the so called lost Black Books? No… that’s Mora’s forte, this is Boethiah…) She began to wrap her head about the possible reasons again.

Carciel began freely muttering to herself. “It’s similar, but… She was trying to contain something then… Could it be… is she trying to stifle that power?” She remembered how Niyleen felt when she touched her earlier to apply some medicine to her wound. She was warm. Not warm like a fire, but warm like she may or may not have a slight fever.

 

“When I could still perceive my Big Sister’s thoughts, she seemed worried about some inner strength of hers,” Nyleine said trying to piece together Carciel’s rambling. “I think she called it Nega. Do you think that has any bearing on what’s happening now?”

“She wasn’t sweating,” Carciel said ignoring the Halfling. “Shit girl… what are you doing?”

 

“Eheheheh.”

That bit of laughter broke something in Carciel. She turned toward Nyleine and said, “How dare you laugh at a time like this? Your sister almost died! And that now we have no way of waking her, you think this is a joke? You more than me should be more concerned about your sister’s condition, and yet… and yet…”

“I can’t help it,” Nyleine admitted a bright smile still lingering on her face.

 

“You can’t… help it?” Was this person a monster? What kind of sister could say such a thing in the face of such a crisis?

 

“I can’t,” Nyleine repeated. “Before, I had always thought that my sister and I were the same. No friends, incomplete family. But even with knowing about you and Lucari from my sister’s thoughts, it’s just… I’m so happy that my sister has friends as caring as you Carciel. I am deeply in your debt.”

Nyleine bowed slightly to Carciel, and the Breton had to turn from her to hide her embarrassment.  Sighing, she said, “You… you don’t have to bow for something like that. Any good friend would act the same way.” (When did I begin to see Niyleen as my friend?)

 

“The fact that you don’t understand how valuable your friendship is to Niyleen, makes it even more so. Please continue to stay by her side.”

 

Carciel blushed. “You… you don’t have to tell me that!” (I-idiot.)

“So… what do you think Healer Carciel? Is there anything we can do for her?”

Carciel looked down at Niyleen with worry. “Nothing. She… she doesn’t want to wake up so all we can do is wait.”

 

“Why wouldn’t she want to wake up,” Nyleine said.

 

(It’s not your fault.) She could hear the concern in the younger sister’s voice. “I don’t know. We just have to believe in her and wait for her to wake on her own. I’ll continue to cast my magic periodically, but it’s up to her whether or not she wants to live. All we can do is believe that she’ll choose us over death.”

 

 

Part Three

 

 

Moonlight basked the hall lighting up places and casting shadows in others and an eerie silence fell over the hall.

A whimper and rattling of chains broke the silence, disturbing the peace. Upsetting Master...

His shrine forever bled in the center of the room. Basked in the moonlight it looked like a monster always hungry endlessly devouring.

Inspired awe it did. Master’s shine that reflected his image, his cruelty, his power.

He is domination. His name is the Corrupter, the Enslaver of Mortals, the King of Rape. He was a player, and she a piece, a card. She was the Shackled Beast; worthless on its own, but powerful when combined with others.

“Well, that’s what he told me anyway,” a woman said.  A hint of irritation was mix with her sultry voice.  “You are the Shackled Beast,” she said as she began her decent down the steps.

The click-clacking of her heels echoed loudly throughout the hall. “Well Shackled Beast, meet the Trustworthy Servant. But to you I am the Domineering Mistress, the Unforgiving Maker. To you, sweet beast, I am God!”

She walked closer to the chained woman and when she flinched a cruel grin flashed on the woman’s face.  “Oh don’t worry my Child, I would never hurt you. You are my progeny, my future, and despite my objections,” she said as she brushed the chained woman’s shoulder as she passed. “Master’s chosen you to be his weapon this go around.”

She went up to Molag Bal’s alter and sat down with an amused look on her face. “I’m not entertained girl. Maybe your screams will do. How about another hundred lashes? Your skin healed up after the round.”

“No,” Teresa laughed. “Well, maybe you’d like to have another round with my new Second-in-Command, and kinsman Tysnhor Weird-Hung. I was surprised when he talked about how tight you were afterwards. Like you had your first fuck and then decided to go celibate. But that wasn’t it was it. Was it daddy? Was it your precious brother? Or a first love? Ha! I could see you deflowering yourself, you useless clumsy wench.”

“Speak,” Teresa said. “I command you to speak! Do you want another round with Weird-Hung?”

 

“N-n-n-n-n-n-n-n…” The woman tried to speak, but the words just wouldn’t come out.

 

A cruel smirk appeared on Teresa’s lips. “I said speak!”

 

At first the woman began convulsing, something about the command was being wholly rejected by something within her. However, eventually as if compelled to do so, she let out in a low and guttural voice a resounding, “NO!”

Teresa smiled and quickly knelt next to her progeny. Her smile brightened when the woman began to shake uncontrollably and cough up blood.  When she finished, Teresa wiped the girl’s mouth and said, “So that’s what conflicting orders do. I tell you not to let out a peep, and then I force you to answer. Is it fair? No my Child, but nothing is.” She gathered energy in both of her hands and molded the magic in her right hand into the shape of a blade. “I relieve you of my second command. Now answer me Child, do you wish to die?”

 

“N…no.”

 

The look on her progeny’s face was priceless.  “That’s right, you don’t remember that I crushed your windpipe and made you not be able to heal it all the way.  Your voice used to be sweet, friendly, light and bubbly. Now? It’s rough, gritty, raspy, nothing at all like it once did. Isn’t that right…”

“…Lucari?”

 

“Lu..ca..ri?”

 

(Damn it all to Oblivion. She must barely still be feral…) “Tsk, this isn’t going to be fun at all… Hmm, maybe these names will elicit a response, Niyleen? Carciel?” She saw Lucari wince, and then frown up at their names. “So they cause you pain? Heheheh…”

“That’s because Niyleen and Carciel are evil.” Teresa couldn’t help but enjoy this. If Lucari already reacted negatively to their names, there wasn’t much more that she had to do.  “They threaten me, you, and our Master. Niyleen and Carciel want to hurt you, much more than I ever will and their cruelty won’t have a meaning unlike mine.”

“Anyway beast, when I next return, you will have regained your senses. Master needs you to be coherent, because as of now, you are completely worthless to both of us. Do I make myself clear?”

 

“…”

 

“Answer me!”

 

“Y-yes.”

 

“Yes what?”

 

“Y-yes M-M-Mist-t-tresssss.”

 

Teresa laughed. (The Defiler so completely under my thumb… this is a million times better than having Sevetia eliminate her. But this… this husk won’t do.)

Teresa walked away and muttered angrily to herself. (Why her! Master, why do you do this? I fail you ONCE and you never trust me again? Why!? WHY!?! I’ve served you loyally through these cycles and you keep putting these useless miscreants before me… WHY!!)

Teresa sighed. “All is by your will Master.” She stopped. “Oh, I almost forgot. Until we meet again, I command you to hear the words ‘Niyleen and Carciel’ over and over in your. These words will cause you ten—no thirty—times the amount of pain that they already do. But it won’t begin until you hear me shut the door so relax. You’re going to need your strength. Ahahahahaahahaaha!” Teresa then continued to walk away.

“Car…ci…el…..Niy…le—“

 

SLAM!

 

And then, the world went black for Lucari.

 

 

[Robton]

The Legend of Miss Two-Mug - The Two Mugs

“One day in a heavy storm, an exhausted wanderer arrived at the Nightgate inn for a good night's sleep. She ordered up something to drink and sat down to relax.”



“As she started to drink, the bard started playing a dreadful tune on her lute. It sounded worse than children screaming, but when she started to sing to the tune her heavenly voice filled the room with joy. Even though some vocals were out of tune, her great singing did that nobody even noticed the bad lute playing anymore. After the bard finished playing her tune, she went over to the bench.”



Erin: Hello there, I'm the bard. Name's Erin and I am saving up septims to go to the Bards College in Solitude. Would you like to make a request?



Jofrid: It sounded that you need it, your' lute playing was horrible.



Ehmm… thanks, I guess… I'm perfectly aware of my lute playing skills. It's one of the reasons I'm applying.



Heh, sounded like you need every septim. I’m Jofrid by the way, also known as Miss Two-Mug.



Two-Mug? Why are you called that? If you don’t mind me asking.



If you’re kind enough to get me another bottle of mead I’ll gladly tell you.



If you request a song first, hehe.



Fine, please do one without that dreadful Lute.



Fine by me, I’ll get you your mead after the song.



“Erin started singing The Age of Oppression, which seemed to be a hit with all the drunken Stormcloak soldiers that were present.”



“After the song Erin sneaks back behind the counter and grabs a bottle of mead while Hadring, the Innkeeper was busy over by the soldiers, placing drink orders.”



Here ya go, about that story…



Ah, yes. I was born right here in the Pale, my parents were both Vigilants of Stendarr. Sadly they passed away on a mission when I was very young, so I was basically raised by the other Vigilants.



I’m happy with my childhood for the most part, was a bit of a party animal in my teenage years though. I developed by body quite early so it wasn’t irregular that I got the usual stare from the men there.



Thankfully they all were aware of my age. So every time I had enough to drink and became more and more slutty, they kept their hands and other body parts off me.



But one thing that happened every time I got drunk was that I eventually left the mug I was drinking from somewhere, and then I always found a new one. And I always wandered around pretty woozy and drank with the others after that, which mean I always stumble across the first mug I left somewhere again.



So at this point I always wandered around with one mug in each hand, drinking from both.



So they started calling me Two-Mug after a few times, and it has sort of stuck with me since. It’s kinda silly, but that’s basically where the name comes from.



Hah, you’re funny. Why aren’t you there drinking with them now? Are you on a mission?



Bring me another one of these and I’ll tell ya.



To be continued...

Big thanks to cyphernaut for his screenshots of Erin and the rest of the mysterious panel for helping out with ideas. Also I hope you tolerate the lack of great screenshots in my end, I had some issues with interior lighting. But IMO they turned out OK.

[uptower]

Brigand Diaries latest - now with spoiler tags

 

http://www.loverslab.com/topic/41277-adults-only-the-brigand-diaries-returns/?hl=brigand

 

 

 

 

[blazingsai]

Flame-Child: Part Two

Chapter Five: Cycles (Part One)

 

There is always something to be gained from looking to the past...

Links to Past Chapters:

 

Link to Part One:

 

Part One: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/23977-picture-book-the-story-teller-post-a-pic-tell-a-story-in-tesv/?p=992192

 

Link to Previous Chapters:

 

First Arc:

Chapter One: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1000093

Chapter Two: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1015993

Chapter Three: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1026943

Chapter Four: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1045468

 

Specials:

Number One (Carciel): http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1014707

Number Two (Nyleine): http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1024876

 

 

 

Story

 

 

“Speak,” Niyleen said. She aimed her blade at the ‘Second’ with malice.  “Like I said, any omissions and I’ll end you.”

 

The Second sighed. “I could tell you a litany of things that is wrong with that sentence, but because we are short on time I shall refrain.”

 

Niyleen scowled. “Such as?”

 

“As I said, we are short on time Fourth. Do you want me to explain or not?”

 

 

Niyleen sucked her teeth. She wanted it all, but knew that knowledge when going against the Daedra was the most important weapon she could have.  “Fine. But don’t short me.”

 

The Second blinked. “Everything you believe, from your birth, your circumstances, your sister, your friends, everything is a fabrication of reality. These relationships you’ve formed, though real to you, are shells of their actual forms.”  Niyleen opened her mouth to speak, but the Second continued, “Examples, right. I forgot that I was beyond that. Easiest example, Nyleine is your actual younger twin sister.”

 

“I know that,” Niyleen said angrily. “I swear if you’re jerking me around—”

 

“Nyleine and you came from the same womb, not the same soul,” the Second said undisturbed. “You doubt me? Ask her about a necklace with a pendant representing Kynareth and see how she reacts.”

 

(That makes no sense, Nyleine has no faith in the Aedra…) Faith, not belief. “Just a lie, no doubt.”

 

 

“A lie… then understand this. You were good friends with Sorerica, your best friend was a wood elf named Laeae who you know never told you her real name, one of your most trusted comrades was a high elf named Trineiya, Eolri was the one who trained you to fight not your mother, the REAL ‘Raging Inferno of the Reach’ is a Dunmer that goes by the name Ruby, Carciel does not exist, Sorene has tried to kill you multiple times but you befriended her using… questionable tactics, Lucari was a thief that stole your heart, and you… you were nothing like you are now.”

 

“Sure, like any of that could ever happen.”

 

“You ask me to tell you the truth and then you label it false. What do you want from me?”

 

 

Niyleen could see the error in her actions, but it was just too bizarre. “And what do you mean Carciel does not exist? I was with her not too long ago. I fought her, fought alongside her, I know she’s as real as me or… well at least as real as me.”

 

 

“And like I said, none of this is real. In this cycle—your reality—you lived with your parents for a time until your father killed you in one of his personal experimentations, fucked you, and then was driven away by your mother. You then stayed with your mother until you decided to venture off on your own and became a bandit. ALL LIES. The reality—the real reality of it all—is that you and your sister were raised in Markarth in Vlendril Hall.  Your mother ran a stall and was a great alchemist, and your father was an overly friendly dad that was also a great warrior. He declined to teach you both how to fight because he believed there would never be a day where you’d need it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“However, then he died. Killed in a Forsworn attack right before your very eyes. You were scared. Too scared to do anything and you watched as your sister, even greener than you, clung to your mother like she had no idea what was going on.  The three of you lived, but you all were never the same. Your mother—newly widowed—stopped speaking. She tried to get on with her life, but she just could. Your father was everything to her, and though she loved you two as well, your father was her childhood crush, her best friend, her first love. Meanwhile, your sister wanted strength, more strength than what a sword could ever allow. So despite you and your mother’s constant refutation, she went off and join the College of Winterhold.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“But you,” the Second looked Niyleen up and down. “You were so willed. As soon as your sister left, you said your piece to your mother and then went off with a mysterious woman who gave you the promise of strength mightier than ever before. That woman was called Ceolrianna, the White Witch, and she was your instructor-in-arms. And that all happened just a year ago.”

 

 

“But you said—” (Think Niyleen. Ceolrianna? C-eolri-anna? Eolri was a Forsworn Ravager, a mage that knew her way around a sword, but the White Witch? Only person I know that could possibly fit that title is…!!!)

 

“And there it is,” the Second said. She sounded relieved, although her stoic face didn’t betray her. “As I said, Carciel does not exist. She did not exist in any form until the third cycle. Carciel is what this cycle’s Nyleine is for you, Eolri’s shadow. And in the grand scheme of things, Carciel is a means to an end. But enough about that,” she said dismissing the idea knowing Niyleen would want more insight. “There is an issue at hand that you must be aware of, do NOT fight Molag Bal.” She looked at Niyleen sternly as she said this. “More specifically, do not fight his Champion. Every cycle there are events that must occur. Ceolrianna must die, Telind must die, Nyleine always becomes a necromancer, there must at least be one Dragonborn, Ruby will purposely get herself killed, Sorene will try and kill you, and like it or not you will have to fight Lucari. Along with those, if you fight Molag Bal and you don’t take out the other participating Daedra’s Champions, the cycle will restart.”

 

 

“C-can’t we stop it?”

 

The Second shook her head.

 

(Not good.) Everything started to mesh. Names began to match faces, events began to roll out before her, and suddenly Niyleen began to have a splitting headache.

 

“It is okay Fourth. All of us except the First went through this. Reality changing, nothing being what it seemed.”

 

“Fourth… Fourth…” Niyleen got to her feet and started to piece what the Second was not telling her together. “So this is the fourth cycle, as you would say?”

 

 

“Indeed.”

 

“And you are… the me from the second cycle?”

 

“Yes.”

 

(And the first me made a deal with Mehrunes Dagon…) “You… how much time do we have left?”

 

“That depends.”

 

 

That irritated Niyleen. People with knowledge always seemed to have all the answers but never enough time. Eolri was the same. (And I killed her. Just as I always—) “In the other cycles, did I kill Eolri?”

 

“Not all of them. She died protecting you in the first, she was slain by Malacath’s Champion in the third, and she purposely became Jyggalag’s Champion in mine to shield me from the same fate. I would indeed end her life in return.”

 

 

(So cold… so…) Niyleen couldn’t think. Wouldn’t think. When she did it hurt her head, and just made her mad. Why her? Why these people? Why couldn’t the Daedric Princes have chosen another ragtag group of people and have them go at it? (No, don’t think like that. Then they’d be in your shoes.) Niyleen knew what she wanted to know. “Second, do you have enough time to tell me what started each cycle, and happened to me at the end of each cycle?”

 

The Second looked at Niyleen saying nothing. Was she examining her? Deciding what to hide, what to bring to light? After a while she looked away and said, “I suppose. But know this. Currently you are in a deeper sleep than when the First last contacted you thusly. I am purposely keeping you here so the First cannot interfere. However, being here is like dancing with death.  If I keep you here for too long, then it is possible that you will die.”

 

 

That wasn’t good. “I see…”

 

The Second frowned. “I can discuss them both, but if I do you may become stuck here or as I said die. However, if your will is strong enough and your friend doesn’t give up on you, I’ll have more than enough time.”

 

(My friend? Doesn’t she mean my sister?) Last she knew only Nyleine would be tending to her, Lucari and Carciel may still be around Markarth, and Eolri was dead. There was no one else. No elves that she would consider friends, nothing. (Kinda depressing when I think about it.) But that mattered not. Knowledge was only going to aid her, and if she didn’t have enough she might die anyway. “Okay. I understand.” Niyleen’s voice was more resolute than she felt, but the Second didn’t need to know that.

 

 

Finally, the Second cracked a smile. “Okay then. I’ll start with what I know best, the second cycle.”

 

 

 

 

[Kaos Wulf]

 

Hope you all have a good read! I'll be releasing a new chapter tomorrow, Wednesday and Thursday. I have HUGE hopes for Thurday's release. :3 Also, I am open to all forms of criticism (seriously, I am open to all forms of criticism )

 

The plot thickens...

 

Ok criticism, since you asked:

 

It's starting to get really convoluted now, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. If you were just starting out with the story and then you laid all that on us, you would be 'sploding heads left and right. But you've paced it, built intrigue into each of your characters so that when the time comes, the audience is ready for something new.

The important thing to do (and this is entirely my own personal view on story-telling), is to keep these sequences brief. Although it's important and essentially the 'meat' of the plot so-to-speak, it can exhaust the mind holding onto the details. In a way, it's tearing down what the reader has established, and so they must be eased into the new plot. The length this time was just right, given that is was shinning light onto a lot of things.

 

I think you have the right idea with how you've been approaching everything, so what I'm saying is probably what you're already planning as you go along.

Oh, and you'll have to forgive me for not giving you a like since I already did in the other thread.

 

 

 

[blazingsai]

Flame-Child: Part Two

Chapter Six: Cycles (Part Two)

This may well be a tale of souls untold...

Links to Past Chapters:

 

Link to Part One:

 

Part One: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/23977-picture-book-the-story-teller-post-a-pic-tell-a-story-in-tesv/?p=992192

 

Link to Previous Chapters:

 

First Arc:

Chapter One: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1000093

Chapter Two: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1015993

Chapter Three: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1026943

Chapter Four: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1045468

 

Current Arc:

Chapter Five http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1062329

 

Specials:

Number One (Carciel): http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1014707

Number Two (Nyleine): http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1024876

 

 

 

Story

 

Second Cycle

 

 

Beginning

 

 

The very beginning and the end… during my time, it began with Sanguine and ended with Sheogorath.

 

Niyleen: Debauchery and Madness…

 

I… you… Niyleen was an ex-assassin being chased by her former comrades. After outwitting and out smarting four of her pursuing assassins, she found refuge in Rorikstead and rested up there for a few weeks. Everything was good. The people didn’t care about her circumstances and treated her well, like one of their own and in turn Niyleen did well by them. She worked the fields, helped out at Frostfruit Inn, protected the livestock from predators, and changed the attitudes of any outsiders that tried to make trouble. This peace could have probably continued for a while, however everything changed when a fellow named Sam came to town.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Niyleen: Sam? Sam what?

 

Sam Guevenne. He was handsome, charming, and an annoyance like no other. He made passes at every woman in town, and challenged everyone he could to drinking contests winning them all. Niyleen tried to avoid dealing with him. She sparsely went to the inn at night whenever he was there, but one night it was unavoidable.

 

 

 

Niyleen had done it all that day. Dealt with bandits, harvested crops, stopped a drunk Rorik from trying to go going the Civil War, settled a love dispute between father and daughter, harvested more crops, killed several wolves that got bold and ventured into town, and harvested more crops. She was tired, aching, and in need of a hard drink to sooth her pain and let her drink the night away. She went up to Mralki and I’ll never forget what happened between them.

 

“Mralki,” she said.

 

“Gods girl, you sound worse than Ragnar looks.”

 

“Cut the crap and give me the hardest drink you’ve got.” She slammed her fist on the counter and glare at him. “And don’t give me that no bartering crap. I’ve done well by you. Whether or not that matters to you, it will count towards this drink! So start pouring before I make you.” It was the first time she had threatened someone, and it made her feel ill.

 

 

Mralki said nothing and handed her a bottle and a mug and walked off. Niyleen downed the ale and was about to go rest her head, but suddenly Sam appeared in front of her. Sore, angry, and tipsy, his was the last face she wanted to see and yet it was the only face she could have imagined.

 

 

However, truth was that Sam had never made a pass at her and this was before she had started avoiding him. Niyleen had taken glances at him then, and couldn't help it when her heartbeat rose.  There was something irresistible about him, something that drew her to him. So when he challenged her to a drinking contest, even if her pride had allowed her to say no, her heart wouldn't have listened.

 

 

 

To this day I don’t know whether or not he let her, but Niyleen won against him easily and then after a few more rounds he said something to her with a voice that wasn’t his own that she wouldn’t remember until months later, “Welcome to sin and debachery.”

 

 

Niyleen: Wait… Sam was—

 

He was Sanguine. Daedric Prince of Debauchery, the Lord of Sin, Master of Sins. He was my first, and my last…

 

 

 

* * *

 

Niyleen looked at the Second and could see she was on the verge of tears. She said nothing, for nothing could be said. There was no comforting her, no… nothing. Niyleen can’t even remember her first time, and coupled with how she was treated by the Forsworn and always being on the run, relationships had been the farthest thing from her mind.

 

Niyleen could see she needed a minute, and granted her that. Whether any of this was real, or if it were a dream or some elaborate hoax, the Second had done right by her and she would return the favor.

 

 

 

“I defeated him,” the Second said far sooner than Niyleen had imagined.  “By finding Sam… finding Sanguine again and putting a dagger in his chest. Can you believe it? He laughed when i did that. Laughed!” Niyleen could see her visibly shaking, but said nothing.

 

 

 

“Now,” the Second said with more strength her voice. “About how it ended…”

 

 

 

Ending

 

 

Everything happened too fast. I was separated from everyone and Eolrianna’s cold body rested in my arms. I had killed her, but there was no blood. No sign of the fierce battle that had transpired, and yet she laid there peaceful, as if in a dream, and I prayed to all the Gods for their blessings. For them to forgive her and guide her safely into the afterlife. 

 

Niyleen: Eolrianna… I wonder what type of woman she was.

 

 

She had become Jyggalag’s Champion because I was weak, I was feeble, because I thought I needed power that never was to be mine. She was stronger, more beautiful, more elegant… she didn’t deserve it. She should have lived a long life! I should have become Jyggalag’s Champion. I should have died. And yet… she was smiling. Even in death she was smiling at a wretch like me. I felt sick, I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t just leave her there, not alone not like that. But I was drowning in my own guilt and could barely breathe.

 

 

 

It was then that she appeared. All smiles and deserving of death.  She had taken her 200^th life and was still unsatisfied. She looked at me, venomous eyes latching on to its prey and smiled. “Long time no see, partner.”

 

 

Ruby and Light they had called us. Hers was for her hair, eyes, and the red clothes she frequently enjoyed wearing. Mine was patronizing, but fit. They called me light because I wore all black, was, at the time, the only Redguard in the group, and because I always took missions where the targets were more than deserving of death. I was the light among the shadows. The pure dagger that cleansed tainted souls. “It has been a long time,” I said, not containing my malice.

 

 

“Don’t be like that Light. We all stumble here and now. Who else was supposed to take the fall if not you?”

 

 

That smile… those words… if Eolrianna wasn’t in my arms, I would have killed her then and there. Sheogorath’s puppet. The bitch had failed a huge assignment and I had covered for her and made sure it got done. No one was supposed to know, she was supposed to get away clean, but then she betrayed me. Told everyone that I had forced her to do an assignment that was beyond her depth and when she, as she thought she would, failed I went back to cover my ass. That normally no one would have believed her, but the proof was undeniable. No one in the Brotherhood could have screwed up that badly, especially not Ruby. And seeing as everyone knew that I was the better pure assassin out of the two… I began to get targeted.

 

 

“You’re right. I was careless. I thought I had a real friend in you… I won’t make that mistake again.” I gently laid Eolrianna’s head down and attacked and killed Ruby.

 

 

 

 

She didn’t put up a fight. In fact, just like Eolrianna, she was smiling as my blade slit her throat. It irritated me to no end, but I would later learn that by the time I had met Ruby, she was already broken. Ruby knew, and has always known what was going down at the end… at the start of each cycle. She accepted her role as the Mad-god’s Champion and simply played the part for as long as she could before eventually letting herself be killed by either Sorerica or myself. However, this time was different.

 

 

 

 

When I killed her, she rose again, adorned with another Daedra’s garb and mace. She opened her eyes and glared at me. “Domination,” she said in a voice that was not her own. “Has come!”

 

 

* * *

 

“I… would rather not go into details about how that fight went.”

 

“Did you win?” (She had to have right? Otherwise, I should be here…)

 

“One, does it matter? Whether or not I lost is irrelevant in the grand scheme of things,” Second said angrily. “If I won, the cycle would have reset. If I had lost, Sorerica was still alive. I knew it. And no matter how powered up a Daedric Prince might have made her, Ruby could not fight me to the death and won without sustaining major if not fatal injuries.” That would have seen like a simple boast if it had come from anyone else, but that look… that tone… they both spoke volumes. “And two,” she said frowning. “Life and death is irrelevant until the final cycle.”

 

 

Niyleen cocked an eyebrow. “The final cycle? What’s that?”

 

The Second shook her head. “We don’t have time for that.”

 

(Right. Focus on the important thing Niyleen.) “Alright. So, what’s next?”

 

The Second closed her eyes for a moment. “I believe that it would be appropriate to discuss the third cycle next.” She opened her eyes and looked Niyleen up and down. “Yes… I believe I’m right. Now then…”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[blazingsai]

Flame-Child: Part Two

Chapter Seven: Cycles (Part Three)

The more is unveiled, the  more one is undone...

Links to Past Chapters:

 

Link to Part One:

 

Part One: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/23977-picture-book-the-story-teller-post-a-pic-tell-a-story-in-tesv/?p=992192

 

Link to Previous Chapters:

 

First Arc:

Chapter One: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1000093

Chapter Two: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1015993

Chapter Three: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1026943

Chapter Four: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1045468

 

Current Arc:

Chapter Five: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1062329

Chapter Six: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1062976

 

Specials:

Number One (Carciel): http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1014707

Number Two (Nyleine): http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1024876

 

 

 

Story

 

Third Cycle

 

 

Beginning

 

The Third’s story is rather unfortunate. Sold into slavery in order to settle her father’s debts, she heard she had a sister, but never met her. Her master was cruel. He forced her to walk around nude, and in doing so she gained his wife’s ire. Both master and madam would beat her for the simplest of errors. Slightly folded the shirts incorrectly? Beating. Took half a second longer than they expected to deliver something to either of them? Beating. Clothes weren’t washed the way they wanted them to be on a particular day when they didn’t tell her? Beating. Helped her master get a great deal on a cattle by correcting him when he got his quantities wrong? Beating. Didn’t pleasure the master to his standard be it too much or too little? Beating. Pleasured the master at all? Beating. Walking around naked? Beating. Being alive? Beating.

 

 

 

 

Each day was a battle. Each day she had to force herself to perfection, to read their minds, to numb herself and act dumber and dumber as to make herself beneath them. But she knew she wasn’t. She had to remember that. Once she forgot, and she couldn’t believe the things she had done… but that is for another time.

 

 

 

It was early morning, a Turdas, when everything went to Oblivion. The lady of the house had come in smelling of booze and sex. She took a look at Niyleen and turned her nose up. “You dare look me in the eye girl?”

 

Niyleen looked away immediately. “N-n-no ma’am. I-I’d never do t-that.” Niyleen could never read Lady Silvercloak, never knew how beneath her she had to act. Dialing it up usually did more harm than good, but acting too proud was always a bad idea.

 

“Did I give you permission to speak!” Not enough. Needed a little more cowardice, but too much and it’d be unnatural. Damn her. Lady Silvercloak eyed Niyleen angrily. “Have you told Olmgurd?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Niyleen shook her head. She had wanted to, hundreds of times, but she knew it would only do more harm than good. Master Silvercloak wouldn’t have believed her and would have beaten her remorselessly until he was satisfied. Then the issue would simmer until Lady Silvercloak did something, anything to irk him. Master would then confront her, and of course Lady Silvercloak would deny it but that wouldn’t be the end of it. He would probably smack her a few times, and even though she deserved it, it was not worth the eventual thrashing that would fall upon Niyleen. So no, she didn’t tell Master that his benevolent, loving, faithful wife was cheating on him with his best friend Jorrr the Honest.

 

Lady Silvercloak rolled her eyes. “Play these games girl. See how much longer you’ll live in this house.”

 

It was her usual threat. Niyleen knew the Lady wanted her dead. She said it like that so people would think she meant her husband’s house rather than Tamriel itself. Niyleen opened her mouth to speak, but thought twice.

 

“Oh please, don’t hold your tongue on my account.”

 

 

“If I have your blessing,” Niyleen said. Lady Silvercloak nodded. “I was just wondering how you would like your morning tea? Green or perhaps black.” (What am I doing…) She knew the Lady loved white tea. She knew she was going to say white tea.

 

And she knew that it might take a second, but Lady Silvercloak would certainly understand the meaning behind Niyleen’s words. With a quickness that should have belonged to a woman half her age, Lady Silvercloak slapped Niyleen so hard that it brought her to her knees. It wasn’t actually the power behind it, but the suddenness that had stunned Niyleen and made her knees go weak. “I won’t have any back talk to me you ungrateful wretch! Now go make my tea before I give you something to cry about.” She then went about her business elsewhere in the house.

 

 

 

(What is she talking about? I’m not—) Tears fall down Niyleen’s cheeks and she couldn’t control them. She felt nothing, not the slap, not angry, sad, nothing. And yet they just kept coming. (Why is this happening to me? Why was I born? I wish… I wish…!) Master’s dog Oswin came up to her, and she wiped her eyes feeling ashamed of showing him such a sight. (I’m deferring to a dog now… I can’t keep this up.)

 

Oswin barked and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. He had bitten her when she first arrived here so long ago and since then their relationship had gotten better, but there was just something about him that just terrified her.

 

 

 

 

“What is it boy? Has mean old Lady Silvercloak been kicking you down too?” Oswin whimpered and Niyleen rubbed his fur. “There there. It’ll be alright. One of these days, my wish will be granted and then Oswin… me and you are going to get out of here. We’ll have a huge house, and I’ll even get you a harem. You heard me. Your own personal doggy harem. It’ll be grand… grand….” (And it’ll never happen.)

 

 

 

(What is it you desire mortal?) a voice said suddenly.

 

I want to be free. I want a higher station in life. Niyleen had desires for sure but had never vocalized them before. She felt that once they were vocalized, someone would go to no end to make sure they never blossomed. She knew that voice. It had been taunting her for years now. She thought it was just her imagination, but today she was certain that there was more than a realness in that voice. “I… I want…” She couldn’t. (What if this is all a ploy by Lady Silvercloak? I won’t allow—)

 

 

(Freedom and influence? I can make sure that happens. All you have to do is…)

 

It was simple, clever, and efficient. Even if it didn’t go just as planned, at least one of her dreams would be fulfilled, if only a little.

 

 

Later that evening, the master of the house came back, sweaty, tired, and aggravated. He slamed the door and shouted angrily, “Niyleen! Sonari! Are neither of you going to greet me? Ungrateful wenc—”

 

 

Niyleen came flying down the stairs out of breath. She had dine her best to hide her scars as requested she do by Lord Silvercloak, but looked haggardly and was trembling furiously. She knelt before him, as trained. “Lady… L-L-Lady…. LADY!”

 

“Speak girl! What happened to my wife?”

 

 

 

Niyleen grabbed his hand and ushered him up the stairs and into his bedroom. There they saw what made Niyleen act like this. Lady Silvercloak and Jorrr the Honest were in his bed, blood splattered everywhere. Niyleen handed her Master a note and when he read it, his knees buckled and he wept. Niyleen may have acted dumb, but that didn’t mean she was illiterate. She had read the letter:

 

I am sorry husband. Overcome with grief at my own weakness, I couldn’t help myself. I was jealous of your whore, of your slave. You seemed happy with her, and offered me none of it. You spent more time with her than you did me, your wife! It corrupted me, angered me, changed me. And eventually it tainted me. I needed love, caring, I needed someone to need me, to want for me, and so I looked outward of this house that brought me only pain. I looked to Jorrr. At first he refused. If he hadn’t this may have never happened, but eventually he gave in. Men can only deny women for so long. I am so sorry Olmgurd, my love. I couldn’t continue to shame you this way. I couldn’t bear the pain any longer. So farewell Olmgurd. As I am with Jorrr, may you be with your whore. In life, and the after.

 

~Sonari

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“S-she would never… Jorrr wouldn’t…” Olmgurd looked up at Niyleen. His eyes pleading with her to tell him it was a lie.

 

But she could only look away.

 

 

 

A giant sob overcame Olmgurd and it took him quite a while to get himself together. When he finally did, he went over to his dresser, pulled out some papers, signed them. He then went over to another drawer, pulled out a sizable pouch that jingled. He gave them both to Niyleen. “Get out of my house. I don’t care where you go, what you do, but get out of my house now! If you don’t,” he clenched his fists tightly. “I don’t know what I may do to you… NOW GO! Before I change my mind!”

 

 

Niyleen had exited the house by the time he said house the second time. She walked far and fast, scared that Olmgurd would have a change of heart and try to murder her, but after half an hour of running with no signs of pursuit, Niyleen stopped. She took a deep breath, fell to her knees and laughed. It worked. She was free. That voice, whether or not it was real, had granted her the freedom she had always wanted. Now it was up to her what she was going to make of it. Once she got her wits about her again, she stood, bowed in the direction of the house and said, “Thanks for everything Uncle Vile.”

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

“Clavicus Vile? She made a deal with him?!” Niyleen couldn’t believe it. She may have been a loose follower of Julianos and even she could see how much that offer might have been tempting, but there had to be a catch. Nothing could ever go that well.

 

 

“She did. And she never had to face the consequences of that act until… I’ll just explain it to you.”

 

 

 

Ending

 

 

The Civil War had been quite profitable for Niyleen. Due to a few chance interactions with Ulfric, and some careful dealings with improbable odds, Niyleen came away with being the Jarl of Markarth, Falkreath, and Riften. Rich, powerful influential, she reigned over three holds with an iron fist and absolute authority. Sure she answered to Ulfric, the High King of Skyrim, but he could no more interfere with how she ruled her Holds as long as she paid him sizable taxes.

 

 

 

 

There was a meeting with all of the Jarls in Windhelm that day, and although she hated the cold, she wouldn’t ignore a summons from anyone with more power than she, a habit from her time enslaved. When she made it to the Palace of the Kings everyone was waiting for her and looked at her as if she had done some inconceivable feat.

 

 

“Glad you could finally make it,” Jarl Korir said. “Finally blessing us Nords with your presence.”

 

 

“My men fought for a Skyrim where Nords reigned supreme Ulfric,” Jarl Skald the Elder said. “And yet, not only have you made a Redguard—”

 

“Halfling,” Ulfric and Niyleen said simultaneously.

 

“Same wavelength,” Jarl Sorli the Builder said. “Astonishing.”

 

 

 

“Regardless,” Skald said trying to get back on topic. “I just want to know, why is that sitting at the table with us and why does it reign over more land than any of us, yourself included High-King?”

 

 

“It was war,” Niyleen said making herself feel more relaxed. “I did more for the war than any of your armies. I personally saw to it that Talius’s head was severed from his head. My troops under my command were integral and almost completely responsible for the victories at Whiterun, Markarth, and Falkreath. We took to the vanguard. Did all the hard fighting, weakened the enemies forces so that you, Skald, or that Silver-Blood the double dealing bastard could get the credit.”

 

 

“As you said, it was war,” Skald said. “The higher ups always take responsibility, good or bad of the actions of those beneath them.”

 

 

“That sure sounds good,” Niyleen said. “But the only reason the Battle of Whiterun was even close was because your men on your order didn’t deem it necessary to join up with the rest of the army until the battle was three-fourths done. I lost almost two divisions of men due to that order, but did you ever have to claim responsibility for that call?”

 

Everyone went silent. Niyleen wasn’t the same little slave that was going to be intimidated by any of these men. She was more powerful, physically and in influence than any of these old farts and she wasn’t about to be denied what was hers.

 

 

“Jarls,” Ulfric said, his voice chilling everyone to the core. It was what attracted Niyleen to him initially. That air about him… powerful, overwhelming, and alluring. “It seems that one of us has been Touched. As I have been by Talos, one of us here has been as well.”

 

 

That was the only thing she hated about him. It was always Talos this, Talos that. The man really believed that he was blessed by Tiber Septim himself. “And you know this how,” Niyleen asked. Eyes turned to her like she had just committed some sort of blasphemy. “What? I was just saying what everyone was thinking.”

 

 

“Fair enough,” Ulfric said. “I had a vision. A dream. Talos spoke to me. Told me that someone here was given a gift by one of the Daedric Princes.

 

Niyleen’s heart tightened. She might not have known it then, but she wasn’t too ignorant now to know what had happened all those years ago. Clavicus Vile, Daedric Prince of Wishes and Bargains. He told her she would have her freedom, and she did. He said she would be richer than her wildest dream, and she was. But he never said exactly what price she would have to pay only the he would collect at a later date. Niyleen looked at her personal guard consisting of Hielda, Sevetia, and Lucari and frown. “Do you think he knows,” she whispered.

 

 

“Of course not,” Hielda said.

 

 

Niyleen tilted her head to the side and they dispersed.

 

 

“What grounds do you have for this?” yelled an unlikely source… Skald the Elder.

 

“The guilty party speaks,” Jarl Vignar Gray-Mane said a smile cracking his lips.

 

“You dare?” All eyes locked onto Skald. “Y-you all can’t believe—”

 

 

“Why not,” Niyleen said. She stood unafraid of her own dealings. “You come at me, like I’m some sort of evil, when you yourself have been sleeping with the enemy. Pathetic.” She laughed haughtily and covered her mouth, something she picked up from Sonari that showed she had the upper hand.

 

 

However, it backfired. “Pathetic? Me? Then what does that say about you, trash of Molag Bal!”

 

The room fell silent. It was a baseless claim, but with how she had been treating her people…

 

“Guards,” Vignar Gray-Mane shouted. They surrounded Niyleen in an instant.

 

 

“H-High-King! You don’t believe them do you?” She was scared. Everyone started to surround her and give her sideways looks. It made no sense. Niyleen knew she had no affiliation with the Lord of Domination, but she did share ties with Clavicus Vile. Maybe this was his doing. Maybe this was the price of her freedom.

 

 

 

“I don’t know who you are,” Ulfric said. Niyleen looked into his eyes and saw that not only were his words the truth. But she could see what he meant. She was covered from head to toe in armor that wasn’t her normal Stormcloak Officer garb. There was more metal, and she no longer saw herself in his eyes either.

 

 

“NO!” she said but the voice was not hers. It was deeper, masculine, otherworldly, and filled with malice. “Damn you Clavicus Vile. She Hadn’t Matured just yet.” She looked around unsteadily as former friend and foe came to arms against her, and laughed. “So be it mortals. Let me show you why they call me the Enslaver of Mortals.”

 

 

* * *

 

That headache struck Niyleen again. But this time images flashed before her eyes. Heilda, the Jarls, Ulfric, Lucari… all of them dominated by her strength alone. She stood bathed in their blood and only one person filled her head: Sorerica. Niyleen gasped and the image went away. She couldn’t catch her breath, but she wanted to know, she had to know… what was that?

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Am I still telling you lies,” the Second said to Niyleen. She looked more irritated than anything.

 

After what she had just seen, Niyleen knew she wasn’t, but she still couldn’t talk. It was less that she couldn’t breathe, and more that the words wouldn’t form in her head. She didn’t know whether to ask what happened to Molag Bal, or what had happened to Niyleen herself. Why had she become Molag Bal? Was it some deal between the two Daedric Princes? It wasn’t as though Molag Bal was surprised to be there, rather he was irritated at the timing of it all.

 

“I cannot wait for you,” the Second said. “This final story may deplete the rest of the time we have, but know this, once I tell you this, you’ll see the world in a different view.”

 

 

Niyleen paused. (What did she mean by a different view?) She had questions. A multitude of them, but time was not her friend. Sucking it up so that she could hopefully gain some further insight into what is going on, Niyleen simply nodded her head.

 

“Good. Now then the First…”

 

 

 

 

[blazingsai]

Flame-Child: Part Two

Chapter Eight: Cycles (Part Four)

The wheel of fate ever turns...

Links to Past Chapters:

 

Link to Part One:

 

Part One: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/23977-picture-book-the-story-teller-post-a-pic-tell-a-story-in-tesv/?p=992192

 

Link to Previous Chapters:

 

First Arc:

Chapter One: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1000093

Chapter Two: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1015993

Chapter Three: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1026943

Chapter Four: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1045468

 

Current Arc:

Chapter Five: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1062329

Chapter Six: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1062976

Chapter Seven: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1063957

 

Specials:

Number One (Carciel): http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1014707

Number Two (Nyleine): http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1024876

 

 

 

Story

 

First Cycle

 

 

Beginning

 

 

The presence of two Dragonborns had allowed the province to overcome so much in so little time. As one Dragonborn took care of a more than real vampire threat that would have thrown Tamriel into darkness, the other set off to Solstheim to battle with the first Dragonborn time had ever known. Both were successful, and through it all both became legend. When the two of them turned their eyes back toward Skyrim and the Civil War, they both knew that they could stop it with just but a word but instead they fought.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sorerica, she who embodied all that a true daughter of Skyrim should be, joined and was completely embraced by the Stormcloak Army.

 

 

Niyleen, she that was neither loved nor hated, she that felt no lingering affections toward her Nord or Redguard history’s, joined up with the Imperial Army.

 

Niyleen: I… was Dragonborn?

 

 

The two Dragonborns were at the vanguard at every major battle and through their unyielding might neither was ever felled and time and time again battles would end in a stalemate. It seemed that the fighting would continue forever until both Dragonborns were one day sent to Whiterun to do negotiations with Jarl Balgruuf.

 

“Balgruuf,” Sorerica said impatiently. She was wearing her officer’s garb and had been waiting on the tardy Jarl for almost an hour. “You know what the Empire has done. How we were made to bend to their will and accept the White-Gold Concordat.”

 

 

“We weren’t given a chance to object,” Balgruuf said referencing himself and the other Jarls. “The Jarls weren't asked. We were told. And we had to like it."

 

 

“But did you really,” Sorerica said. “Or were you one of the fools blinded by the chests of gold they were given.”

 

“Dammit woman, it was never about the gold!”

 

 

 

“If I may interject,” Niyleen said. She herself was in her officer’s garb. “I know that the Empire may not have initially been wholly fair in their dealings with the Jarls, but had the province not known peace?”

 

 

“A fake peace that made us bow to the wills of elves,” Sorerica yelled. “You think the banning of Talos was because he wasn’t Divine? Of course he ascended! The elves know it too. But his worship was a unifying force for Skyrim. If they hadn’t banned his worship—”

 

 

“Ulfric would have still done what he did,” Niyleen said dryly.  “Ulfric wants to be High-King, nothing more. ‘Skyrim is for the Nords?’ Is he really acting like other races weren’t here before? Or is he just trying to rally the radicals to join his selfish cause? And by the way, this ‘ascension’ of Tiber Septim? Never happened.”

 

 

“You lie,” Sorerica said, venom dripping off her words.

 

 

Niyleen shook her head. “One of my most trusted subordinates was there when he was alive. Tiber Septim may have been called the God of War because of his unmistakable military prowess, but he was nothing more than an obnoxious Nord that was talented enough to conquer all of Tamriel.  The reason the Empire bans his worship is because he raped and pillaged many an elven city in times of peace to get them to submit to his will even though all he had to do was ask. Those were the actions of a cowardly mortal, not a god.”

 

 

“Sacrilege!”

 

“If only his worship was permitted or even respectable.”

 

The two Dragonborns stared each other down burning holes through each other with their gazes. When one of them made a move to attack, Balgruuf stood gaining their attention. “Ulfric gave me his axe, Tullius gives me his words, and they both send Dragonborns to deliver them. The accounts are almost similar, but one comes with a threat, the other a promise.”

 

 

“It is no threat, if only you accept,” Sorerica replied.

 

“As with all things, Lord, caution,” Proventus advised. “I urge us to wait and see.”

 

 

“Prey waits,” Irileth said scornfully. “It’s time to decide. It’s clear that both sides are deadly serious with their intent.”

 

“Indeed,” Balgruuf closed his eyes for a moment and said, “Proventus. Bring me my pen. And the good parchment.”

 

"Are we writing a letter, Lord," the Imperial asked.

 

Balgruuf nodded, "Yes, to General Tullius. I need to make a few things clear before I accept these Legionnaires of his."

 

 

Niyleen smiled brightly, “You made the correct choice Jarl Balgruuf. I can assure you.”

 

 

“I hope that I have,” the Jarl said solemnly. “You,” he said addressing Sorerica. “Take this.” He handed her his axe. “Deliver this axe to Ulfric Stormcloak.”

 

Sorerica frowned and sighed. “You’ve no idea what you’ve just done.” She snatched the axe and exited the Hall.

 

 

And so with Whiterun aligning with the Empire, the Imperial Army had an edge in the war. However, neither army was prepared for what was to occur next. Dragons.

 

Since the first sightings at Helgen and outside of Whiterun, the dragons had been scarce. However, with war now encompassing the province, the Dragons seemed to be out in full force. This was more than evident at the Battle of Whiterun where four Elder Dragons circled the city and tore through both armies like they were mere parchment. Sorerica and Niyleen were able to slay one dragon each, but in the process the Stormcloak Army had been able to back the Imperials back into Dragonsreach.

 

 

 

“We are routed,” Irileth said keeping herself between the Jarl and the Stormcloaks.

 

“Forget me and run,” Balgruuf said.

 

“I’d rather die,” Irileth said as she cut another Stormcloak down. A sudden roar cut through the hall and sent the Stormcloaks flying in all directions. “A… A Dragon? Here?”

 

 

“No one is going to be dying on my watch.”

 

“Dragonborn!” Balgruuf said raising to his feet.

 

“One of two,” Niyleen said as she closed the doors behind her and barricaded it. She approached them, knelt and bowed her head. “I apologize for my absence. I was handling a Dragon and thought the line would hold. It was careless of me.”

 

 

“Nonsense,” Irileth said. “If another of those foul beasts were still living, the city would be in far worse shape than it is. You did well. I would be happy to die by your side.”

 

 

Niyleen stood. “No need for the dramatics Dunmer,” she said sternly. But she then laughed. “But indeed. I as well.”

 

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Proventus said. “But unless we get a miracle, this is it my Lord and ladies.” That definitely soured the mood.

 

“A miracle…”

 

 

(Come child… I have that which you seek…)

 

“Did you all hear that,” Niyleen asked looking around.

 

“Hear what?” Balgruuf asked looking confused.

 

(Hurry… before all is lost.)

 

 

(There it is again!) Niyleen turned to them and said, “No matter what, hold until I return.” And then headed off. She couldn’t hear what they were about to ask, as at that moment the barricade was broken and Stormcloaks rushed the Hall again. But Niyleen didn’t stop. She headed to the kitchen down the steps, through a closet and she powered her way through a door covered in blood. Then she saw it. A blade made of ebony that seemed to be untouched for quite some time.

 

(Take it. It will know what to do.)

 

 

 

 

 

Niyleen hesitated. This blade was calling to her, but she felt something ominous about it, like something in her would change if she took it in hand.

 

”IRILETH!” Balgruuf’s voice said from above.

 

“Shit…” This time she didn’t wait. She took the blade from its pedestal and then ran back to join her allies. Allies… that had a strange ring to it…

 

 

* * *

 

“W-wait! What’s next,” Niyleen said like a child. “Did she win? What happened to Irileth? How did the battle end?”

 

“Another time, another time.”

 

“No! Tell me now!”

 

The Second glared at her probably trying to get her to back down, but Niyleen wouldn’t be moved by this. “I see… knowledge is indeed a weapon, but it both gift and curse.” She gave a resigning sigh and said, “The First went up the stairs and slaughtered the Stormcloaks, but in her haste felled three allies as well. Many who witnessed it called it accidental friendly-fire, but that was what the blade wanted people to believe as to cast a veil over its true intent. The Ebony Blade got stronger with each kill of an ally. It fed off of those deceits and it slowly corrupted Niyleen’s mind. They won the battle, but Niyleen lost so much more. The seed of insanity and bloodlust had been sowed and even though she soon discarded the blade, she would never be the same. As for Irileth, she suffered a wound across her chest. It was not deep, but it bled profusely. Since the bleeding was stopped relatively quickly, she only had to recuperate for three days before she could get back to training.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“That is all I will say. No more interruptions!”

 

 

Niyleen nodded. “So how does this end?”

 

Ending

 

 

The Dragon issue had escalated in the following weeks. At the end of the month a summit was called so a temporary peace could be made so the threat could be handled. Though all parties involved were not keen on the idea, they all recognized the dangers they faced and after a few rounds of shrew negotiations the ‘truce’ was formed. They sent the Dragonborns, once friends made enemies now involuntary accomplices, to deal with the menace. Their investigations sent them across the province and made them have to deal with even more forces that were once thought to be extinct, the Blades.

After much more reconnoitering and very careful planning, they knew their target and they knew their battlefield; Alduin and Sovengard. Theirs was a battle that lasted at least four days. The Dragonborns however were not recovered until a week after they ventured into the beyond.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When news of their victory spread throughout the land, it seemed like peace could finally be obtained, and by the Dragonborns’ suggestion it finally could with one last battle.

 

(Are you sure about this? I can tell you how this all shall end if you like?)

 

“Shut up Mora,” Niyleen said as she waited to be presented. Hermaeus Mora, Hircine, Malacath, Meridia, Sheogorath, Nocturnal, Sanguine, Boethiah, Niyleen had already aided a multitude of Daedric Princes by this point and her soul, or what would be left of it would be split amongst them in the afterlife. But it matter not. Everything she did was just. She even felt that her accidental dealings with Mephala were warranted. They called her their Champion, men called her Dragonborn, Sorerica called her Niyleen, but Niyleen had long since cast off those names. Only death seemed to follow where she went and the Halfing was glad to deliver it.

 

 

“… Introducing.  Representing the Imperial Army,” the announcer said interrupting Niyleen’s thoughts. “Niyleen Flame-Child!”

 

Niyleen sucked her teeth. (Aeron… I go by Aeron Death-Bringer now…) But when she first told people this they laughed and said ‘Niyleen is Niyleen’. Like that was supposed to mean something. But she put up with it and walked out into the arena. She looked around and the seats were empty. Clearly an Illusion spell meant to allow the combatants to focus solely on each other, but they hadn’t bothered to dispel the crowd’s cheers and jeers as they filled up the arena just as Niyleen did.

 

 

 

 

She walked over to Sorerica who looked divine… in the literal sense. Clad in white, and equipped with her glowing sword, she seemed to have changed a lot over the last few weeks. “So a battle of Light versus Darkness?”

 

 

“I didn’t want to do this,” Sorerica said shrugging. Okay maybe she hadn’t changed that much. “But they said it would add a bit of flair to it all.”

 

 

“It makes me out to be the bad guy!” (But aren’t I?) True, but she still didn’t like it. It also made the Empire out to be the bad guys. Skewing the people’s views with visual representations? Good job whoever set this whole thing up.  “So how do we do this? Are we to wait? Or—”

 

 

“The fight started ten seconds after you entered the arena.”

 

 

No need to tell her twice. Niyleen took to the air and the two Dragonborns clashed. As agreed upon, no magic, no shouts, this was to be a battle of whose might was the mightiest. Their battle was fast and hectic, causing those in attendance to sit on the edge of their seats for the finish. The fight was even, and they both knew that a single error would mean the other’s defeat.

 

However, Niyleen knew that was only going to be true in Sorerica’s case. Niyleen was blessed by eight Daedric Princes. She wielded both Dawnbreaker and Nightingale Blade, was dressed in her Dark Brotherhood’s garb and was quicker and more agile than Sorerica. Didn’t hurt that she could also turn this into a technical nine versus one. And so Niyleen played around with it. She allowed Sorerica leverage where normally she had none and to all watching it really seemed that the two Dragonborns were complete equals.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And then it happened. All at once the boons given to Niyleen by each Daedric Prince suddenly vanished. The Dawnbreaker was hot to the touch so she cast it aside, and the Nightingale Blade went dull so it was discarded as well. Sorerica soon had an actual advantage and she pressed it as hard as she could. Niyleen was taking all the Nord was giving and then some and she could do nothing about it. To onlookers it seemed like Niyleen had tried something slick and it had backfired hard, but Sorerica knew the truth. She flung Niyleen across the arena, discarded her sword and walked slowly over to her crumpled body.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Two can play at that game,” Sorerica said as she took a mace, that seemingly appeared out of nowhere, into her hand. “I may not have wanted to, but I’ve had my dealings with Daedra myself.” She raised the mace over her head and said, “Well then Niyleen. Looks like the Stormcloaks are victorious this day.”

 

 

 

(Move! NOW!)

 

Niyleen’s body acted on its own and she quickly rolled out of the way and avoided Sorerica’s swing. Then she shouted her across the arena. But that was it. She was totally spent and she had violated the terms of battle. Niyleen was done, Niyleen had lost. “Who are you…” she said weakly pushing the thought of her defeat aside. She had heard the voices of nine different Daedric Princes in her lifetime, however, this one was completely foreign to her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Death-Bringer, the other Daedric Princes have forsaken you. I however, share your desire of change and destruction.)

 

Niyleen looked over toward Sorerica and saw that the Nord had already gotten to her feet and was slowly making her way over to finish the job. (This life isn’t big enough for the both of us, huh?) “Okay, I’m sold. What do I have to do Mehrunes Dagon?”

 

 

 

 

(Give me your soul…)

 

“In this life and the next? Been there, done that. I know where that path goes.” (They abandon me when I need them most.)

 

(No. If you want me to give you my boon, then abandon yourself Aeron. Abandon yourself to me and give me your soul now.)

 

Sorerica was fifteen paces away now. Do or die. “Fine. Whatever. Just help me.”

 

 

(Abandon yourself!)

 

The strength in Niyleen’s arms gave out. (I’ve already abandoned myself! My titles, my name, my identity, all of it. What do you want me to do? I’ve nothing else. I am nothing… is that what you want?) She could see Sorerica’s eyes, and she couldn’t see a trace of her friend there. Their relationship was never the same since the negotiations in Whiterun. Niyleen knew the truth about Tiber Septim would get to her, but she thought their relationship could be salvaged and lost on that gamble. She lost her friend, but she wouldn’t be lost to her. “I’m yours.” She closed her eyes ready to let what was to be, be.

 

 

(Stab her in the stomach and the pact will be complete.)

 

To submission or death those were the rules. Niyleen clenched her fist and found that something was in her right hand. Before she could look down, Sorerica was standing over her with her mace ready to end her life. Before she could move, Niyleen struck. Right in the stomach. It was quick, clean, and nonfatal.

 

 

 

 

 

(Why in the world did I listen to another Daedric Prince…) Niyleen closed her eyes and waited. She knew she was wide open for attack, and there was no way she could avoid the ensuing… attack?

 

 

(Open your eyes child. See what you have done.)

 

Niyleen opened her eyes…

 

 

* * *

 

“…and saw that—“ the Second looked around nervously. “Shit.”

 

 

“Shit? What? WHAT!?”

 

 

“I can’t have you die here,” the Second looked at her nervously. “Nega will tell you the rest at some point. I can’t be for certain when, but she’s never failed.”

 

 

Niyleen made to speak but suddenly the world around her warped. She felt disoriented, she felt sick, but most of all she felt clear. Opening her eyes, she laid there looking at the dank lair’s ceiling, just thinking. Now that she knew the truth, that this reality was false, she could understand why Ruby kept killing and getting herself killed. Nothing mattered. ‘There is an issue at hand that you must be aware of, do NOT fight Molag Bal’. (Where do we even begin? Was it too late? Am I already on the path to a bad end? I was raped, dominated by both father and Forsworn, but this is just how I am supposed to interpret events, it’s all been manufactured. Lies. But I felt it… I remember it… I…) Niyleen stopped thinking. It wasn’t going to take her anywhere, and there was a voice talking to her sister that was annoying familiar. (Who is that?)

 

 

 

 

Niyleen sat up and gasped. Ceolrianna’s face popped into her head. ’Carciel does not exist’. (But she’s here! She’s right here!) Felt like crying but stopped herself. If they asked her why what was she supposed to say? Oh, yeah sorry. Just found out that my sister is my actual twin or and you don’t exist Carciel. No, she’d keep these things secret. (You’re a pretty good liar Niyleen, just take it like a round two against Lucari.  But instead of some random Nord girl that wanted to make a name on you, lie to protect the mindset of your sister and one of your only friends. No pressure.)

 

 

 

 

“Hey, what‘s going on?” Niyleen said, as she got off of that cold slab. She couldn’t imagine anything being worse than the beds in Markarth, but she was wrong. So terribly wrong. The two of them turned around and saw Niyleen standing there. Trying to relax the suddenly tense mood, Niyleen flashed a forced smile and both Carciel and Nyleine immediately fell to their knees and began to cry. “H-hey, I’m alive. Shouldn’t you two be all smiles?” But she knew they were just overwhelmed with joy. She knelt down and gave them each a hug. (I guess we can talk about what to do now another day.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Silver Wolf]

*********************************************************

This is my first proper story. My English is not good so... use your imagination

My pc is not very good, so the picture quality may not good enough for you

and all of them are taken in 1366x768

Thanks to all my friends who help and support me to complete this little project

***************************************************************************************

"It seemed to be just another ordinary day on their adventure. Gelmir and Clochette arrived Whiterun late afternoon that day. Gelmir was about to meet Jarl Balgruuf the Greater to discuss some business and leave Cloe alone to mind her own business... for a while"

"But right after he walked out of sight.....

She sneaked in to an abandoned house - Breezehome - and put on some kinky items she secretly purchased from a mysterious shop...."

"She was really excited to try them on....

Her body felt so hot, and her hands started moving on their own....."

"She just wanted to try it a bit, but now she can't stop touching herself.....

Her hands couldn't stop....

Her body craved for more....."

"Suddently, at her most pleasure moment, Gelmir appeared! He was talking with the Jarl about buying Breezehome and came to check on the house, but instead, he found this...."

"... Now he knows about her deep, dark desire that she's been hiding ever since..."

"He appoached from behind. Cloe was so confused, she couldn't move, couldn't say anything"

"she can feel the strength of his hands of her round, beautiful and big peaches"

"Clochette tried to resist it, but nothing can stop him now. The warm of his body, his muscles press on and his scent is driving her crazy...."

"Finally, she just let it go..."

"Their bodies twisted into eachother"

"After that, she was covered in his thick and white fuid. She's never felt so good, so much pleasure before... But what then?...."

"Gelmir forced her to wear some really lewd clothes, and won't let her take off the kinky items she was wearing. She's afraid that their relationship will never be like before...."

"And she was right. From that day.....

... marks a beginning... of their new relationship...."

"The rest of the story... that depends on your imagination"

[Darth Omix]

Author's Note:

This is my first attempt at doing this kind of thing in this manner. There's probably going to be some fluctuation in the screenshot-to-text ratio over the first few segments, especially as I improve in taking screenshots in Skyrim.

IE: Fixing the outfit inconsistencies which should not be a problem after this part.

 

 

 

Part 1: Initiation

 

 

Darkness.

Soul-crushing sweet release from this mortal coil. The end of everything. That is what Sevara had given up in a trade for the chance at revenge against the man who had destroyed her family when she was a child.

 

 

As she lay on the shore, thinking over her decision, she wondered if it was wise; giving up what life she'd had left in exchange for being able to take revenge on the ruination of her old one.

 

"Totally worth it," she muttered to herself before getting dressed. She'd met some vampire nearly a month ago, but instead of killing him she'd spent the past month debating on his offer of joining him in undeath. So that she could take her revenge.

 

 

Zirelus Sadraro. A Dunmer practitioner of Alteration magic. He was also less notoriously known as a rapist and amateur slave master.

 

When Sevara's father perished in the Skyrim Civil War, her home was raided by bandits. The young Sevara never saw her mother again, being sold off as little more than a toy to the Dunmer mage. She spent the next ten years enduring his torments and experiments.

 

 

The brands littering her body continued to this day to radiate with his perverse, wicked magic. As the child of a Nord and a Bosmer, she was already a social outcast, but as an escaped sex slave, she was even more shunned by society as a whole. Until she received the dark Gift.

 

 

(Editorial Note: Glazed over the whole "lol she has a penor bit"? Yup, totally. Attributed it to Zirelus' decade of experimentation and forgot to make any other note of it in my script. :I )

 

 

 

She accepted her undeath and joined the ranks of the Vampires. However, they would not let her go galavanting about on her own business so easily. They had work for her to do, and she was damn well going to do it.

 

 

(Editorial Note: AKA I spent more time on screenshots than actually moving along the Dawnguard questline so...Yeah. :I )

 

 

 

While doing as she was told, she was waylaid at an inn with a nigh unquenchable thirst. How long had she spent on the road without noticing? She had to take action, lest it be obvious to those around her what she really was. She had to Feed.

 

 

The blood of Men was delicious. She used what little willpower she could muster to not drain the random man dry of every last succulent drop. The sensation of pure, raw power coursing through her cold flesh was nearly orgasmic. Though, she had to focus. Get back on task.

 

Lest someone else kill Zirelus Sadraro before she did...

 

 

 

End Part One

 

 

Questions, comments, and so on are accepted and encouraged as this is my first real attempt at doing this kind of serialized storyline. As mentioned in the Author's Note at the top of the post, I'll be working on improving my method of doing this as time goes on. The whole outfit inconsistency thing shouldn't be an issue as I had a case of "take screenshot, then think about it" for some of the early shots.

 

Thank you. c:

 

Edit: Fixed Zirelus' school of magic from Illusion to Alteration as originally intended.

Edit 2: Changed header image to be more like the poster I somewhat immaturely idolize. And because it looks better and is not literally my signature.

[blazingsai]

Flame-Child: Part Two

Chapter Nine: Forces

Are pulling them ever closer...

Links to Past Chapters:

 

Link to Part One:

 

Part One: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/23977-picture-book-the-story-teller-post-a-pic-tell-a-story-in-tesv/?p=992192

 

Link to Previous Chapters:

 

First Arc:

Chapter One: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1000093

Chapter Two: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1015993

Chapter Three: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1026943

Chapter Four: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1045468

 

Current Arc:

Chapter Five: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1062329

Chapter Six: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1062976

Chapter Seven: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1063957

Chapter Eight: http://www.loverslab.com/topic/23977-picture-book-the-story-teller-post-a-pic-tell-a-story-in-tesv/?p=1065509

 

Specials:

Number One (Carciel): http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1014707

Number Two (Nyleine): http://www.loverslab.com/topic/15224-show-your-skyrim-counterpart/?p=1024876

 

 

 

Story

 

 

Sorene (NSFW)

 

 

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this Skyrim weather,” Sorene said as she looked down on Windhelm. She promised Sorerica that they’d go their separate ways after she joined the Imperial army, but she couldn’t. (The Empire may have done me wrong, but I’ll not have my new home destroyed as well.)

She had been sending Sorerica information anonymously about the Stormcloaks’ actions. At first she didn’t know whether or not she was disregarding her messages, but with the movements of the Stormcloaks over the last few days, she could guess.

“Oh?” She saw a single Stormcloak come running towards Windhelm from the northwest, the direction a regiment of them went a week ago. A smile crept on her face hidden beneath her mask. “Good job Sorerica.”

 

Sorene went down the hill and met the soldier before he could get to the city gates. At first he smiled at her, but then after noticing something about her his attitude turned. “Be gone elf. I’ve got urgent news for the Jarl.”

(Ah! My ears. Racist Stormcloak scum…) “Oh?” Sorene narrowed her eyes and licked her lips. “Please, impart upon me your,” she stroked his chest and continued to move her hand downward. It was a feint, but she could feel her true nature coming out as she played with him.  “…Knowledge. Mister big, strong, firm soldier. ©”

 

“I-I can’t,” the soldier said, trembling at her touch. “If word got out…”

“I can hold a secret.” Even though whatever she learned she would—if warranted—pass on to Sorerica, it was true that normally she could hold a secret. “In fact, I’ll keep a secret that you don’t want me specifically to know. Teehee ©! ”

 

“What’re you—”

“You want to fuck me.” She said before she could stop herself. Internally she screamed, (Stop! I don’t really want to do this!!)

It wasn’t up to her. The soldier’s face turned bright red and kept speaking gibberish as he tried to deny it. But urges never lie.Her blood told the Altmer exactly what to do, and as always there was nothing she could do to prevent it. Sorene pushed him down and let her true nature take over. It had been a while since she had a good fuck. Sadly, she wasn’t about to be satisfied with this soldier’s flimsy cock and terrible technique. Sure, she could have done more to achieve complete satisfaction for herself, but why bother when the bare minimum would satisfy her base desires and loosen the soldier’s lips.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After getting the information from him, Sorene glamoured him and made him think that he had just shot one off because of how much of a hard on he was getting from reporting to Ulfric. Messed up? Yes, but he was let off a lot easier than one of her best friends from the Summerset Isles. Anyway, according to the soldier his regiment was ambushed by Imperial troops at Korvanjund, an ancient Nordic ruin, in search of the Jagged Crown, a symbol that would help solidify the legitimacy and righteousness of Ulfric’s cause. Although his men initially found the crown, it was ultimately taken by the Imperials after they all but slaughtered the Stormcloak forces there.

(I just fucked a racist bigoted Nord to find out that Sorerica actually listened to and relayed my messages. Good going Sorene.) She felt dirty, not like it was new. She always felt dirty whenever she let her Succubus nature take over. She didn’t want to be controlled by her instincts, and no matter how good it may feel, fucking someone without love always made her feel like less of a person. Out of anger she punched the soldier and cursed her luck as she was forced to glamour him again.

With that behind her Sorene was about to set off to do more reconnaissance when her stomach suddenly tightened and a chill went up her spine bringing her to her knees. “Telind…” she whispered.

She had told Sorerica before, but when Telind proposed the idea of the two of them spending the rest of their lives together, Sorene had decided to use a bit of her Succubus magic to bind their souls together so that they would never be or feel truly apart. Almost five days had passed since she had last felt his presence. Something like this had happened before, but only momentarily. She thought he may have died then, but when she could feel him again, she knew that couldn’t possibly have been the case; but now there was nothingness only a hole that was growing ever larger with the passing of the days.

 

She was almost able to pinpoint where he was when his presence faded last time, but was unable to because of how suddenly it returned. This time she knew, and if she wasn’t so preoccupied with trying to aid Sorerica and the Imperials in this idiotic Civil War, she would have immediately rushed to her beloved. “Whiterun…” Sorene said as she looked towards the southwest.

Everything became clear to her as she spoke those words. She could see her target—an arrogant Redguard woman with long dark hair, a mage—and what she had to do. Like a being possessed, she darted off toward a little known cave in the Whiterun Hold. Something seemed otherworldly about the whole affair and she would soon put an end to it, and the one that ended her beloved’s life.

 

 

 

 

Sorerica

 

 

“Good work Auxiliary,” General Tullius said as he took the crown from her. “I don’t know where you’ve been getting this information from, but it certainly has been an aid to our cause and hopefully will continue to be.”

Sorerica saluted. “I just hope it’s all worth it in the end,” she said remembering the fierce battle that took place in Korvanjund. Although ultimately a one-sided affair, their side was not without losses. Each mission she was sent on made Sorerica’s heart ache as she fought kinsmen over the egotistical ideals of that madman Ulfric. But it couldn’t be helped. Sorerica knew that, but it didn’t lessen the pain.

Tullius frowned. “Even if the retrieval of this crown was all for naught, it was still a heavy blow for Ulfric’s forces both in numbers and morale.” He looked her over with narrowed eyes.  “And I will not have you questioning me, my orders, or those given to you again. Do I make myself clear?”

 

She hated this, ultimate loyalty to an authority that would ultimately not even blink if and when she dies. It’s why she wasn’t exactly in stitches when she was kicked out of the Stormcloaks. Such a rigid power structure with no say of her own in it was beyond unpleasant, but it was the only way she could fight to protect the land that she loved.

“Ol hi hind, Zoh,” she said with a sigh. The general’s brow furrowed again as if he had heard her speak gibberish. (SHIIIIIIIT!) She hadn’t exactly let it be a widely spread known fact that she was Dragonborn, and Sorene was the only living person who Sorerica had imparted this knowledge upon. “I-I mean, as you wish, Sir,” she said trying to immediately cover her mistake.

“Right…” Tullius said, bored with her nonsense already. “Now then, I have another mission for you—”

 

“Sir, if I may,” Sorerica interjected.

 

“What is it now Auxiliary?”

 

“Now, I understand that there is a war going on and all, but ever since I joined up with the Legion, it has been skirmish after skirmish. Never-ending battles where I’ve been on the vanguard.” She stuck out her chest with pride. “And honored as I am to return from these battles where others have not, I am but of Men. I tire. I ache. And I respectfully request that I am permitted a short leave of absence to relax myself from battles past so I can recover for the ones to come.”

The general gave off a laugh so sudden and out of place that it caused Sorerica to take a step back. “What’s this Auxilary? The one known throughout both sides only as Slayer, the undying Nord strong as a troll, deadly as a sabercat, is asking for time off?”

 

“I wouldn’t be, if I hadn’t spent the last month and a half constantly on the frontlines. Shor’s bones, even some of my comrades were surprised that this was my sixth straight battle mission when they had gotten a rest after just two.” She hadn’t meant for it to come off as whiny, but the truth was the truth. Her body ached, and she’s the only one she knew that was on constant battle duty. It was only by the grace of the Divine’s that she had made it thus far.

“More like a kitten,” Tullius said with a laugh. He closed his eyes and the Nord could tell he was mulling it over. “One hour,” he finally said. “I want you to meet me back here in one hour. I will tell you my decision then. Understood?”

 

“Sir! Yes Sir!” Sorerica saluted, then turned on her heels and walked away and out of Castle Dour.

 

The courtyard always brought a smile to Sorerica as she would be able to gaze upon her fellow and future comrades’ training exercises. As one who had always just picked up what she could here and there, Sorerica was a bit envious of their formal training and would oftentimes just come here and sit for hours to watch them train. Her smiles would widen when someone among the trainees would recognize her and put in extra effort to try and impress, but she couldn’t be mad at the poor sods’ eagerness.

 

But today with the rain and its emptiness, the courtyard made her tire and Sorerica trudged along slowly, giving a nod at her fellow soldiers that she passed. She was in a bad way. Sore, tired, stiff, and in need for a long hot bath Sorerica slowly lumbered down the hill toward her house as carefully as she could as not to slip on the wet rocks until she thought she heard someone call out her name…

 

 

 

 

 

“My Thane!” …Or rather her title. She whipped around and was almost tackled by an eager Nord that was brimming from ear to ear at her presence. “Honored to see you, my Thane.” She said immediately doing her formal pleasantries.

 

Sorerica was sure her housecarl was going to want full details on where she’d been, how the war was going, and if she were alright, but all she could muster right now was a smile before she passed out.

 

When Sorerica awoke, she looked outside and saw that it was about dusk outside and immediately sat up, yelping in pain as she did. Suddenly her housecarl came into the room and frowned at her. “My Thane, please, you need your rest.”

 

 

 

“I screwed up Jordis,” Sorerica said almost in tears as she followed her housecarl’s instructions. “I-I was supposed to meet up with General Tullius a little less than an hour after I saw you. But I… I—”

“I’ve been given your next assignment,” Jordis said with a grin. When Sorerica opened her mouth to respond, Jordis simply held up her hand and said, “Due to your inability to punctually arrive at scheduled times, the General could not grant your request for leave.”

“Gods... damn my weakness…”

 

“There, there, my Thane. This should be good news! Great even!”

 

Sorerica cocked an eyebrow. “In what way? I need time off to rest!” She shouted. “I’m in no condition to go off to battle again! That idiot general is going to run me—”

 

“Whoever said you were heading out into another battle, my Thane?” Jordis said, still smiling devilishly at her fellow Nord. “Now will you let me tell you what your next assignment is?” Sorerica solemnly nodded. “Ehehehe,” Jordis laughed barely able to contain her enthusiasm.  “Auxiliary Sorerica the Slayer,” she said trying her best to mimic General Tullius’s tone. “Your next mission is as follows: Deliver this note to the Jarl of Whiterun, and make sure he and only he receives it.  Carry out any additional tasks that may occur after the Jarl gets the note as you see fit. Once you have completed this task, stay in the Whiterun hold until you receive your next assignment by courier.” By the time she finished talking, Jordis’s eyes were brimming with happiness. “Don’t you see what time means?”

“Well…” Sorerica said scratching her head. “I guess I don’t have to go to another battle?”

 

“Yes, my Thane. But you’re not getting the bigger picture!”

 

“Which is?” Honestly Sorerica couldn’t keep up. Perhaps it was her grogginess, or the throbbing headache she had from hitting the street earlier, but none of this news actually screamed great news to her.

 

“You get to see Lady Sorene again!”

“What? How does that mean…” It was then that Sorerica put two and two together. Before she last left, she instructed her housecarl to locate Sorene’s whereabouts and report any findings to her. Apparently she had succeeded. “Ofaal tir do het…” Sorerica let slip in dovahzul. “You found her?” The excited Nord nodded and finally Sorerica was just as jubilant as she was. “Then let us depart!” She said wincing slightly as she sat up again. “I’ve got to pack! There’s no time to—”

“Calm down, my Thane,” Jordis said sweetly as she gently pushed Sorerica back into bed. “It is almost nighttime and Lady Sorene has not even arrived in the Hold yet.  Gather your strength and let us leave in the morning, my Thane. A warm meal and a good night’s rest will do wonders for you.”

“That and a long warm—”

 

“Already taken care of.” Sorerica arched an eyebrow then suddenly noticed that she wasn’t wearing her soldier’s garb from earlier anymore. She looked down and her face reddened as she saw that she was instead in some nightwear that she had told her housecarl specifically not to purchase for her. Hurriedly she looked toward Jordis who had turned away. “I was only doing my duties as housecarl,” she said and nothing more as she walked out of the room and returned moments later with a hot bowl of venison stew. She then gently placed it before her thane and without so much as making eye contact left before Sorerica could recover from the shock.

 

 

 

Sorerica dug into the meal and after four or five spoonful stopped. She felt warm from the meal. Not the normal warmth she felt when eating a hot meal, but something else. Something she hadn’t felt since she and Sorene had been traveling together. As she took another spoonful she blushed again and cursed herself. (I do not have any interests in women! Be it Sorene or Jordis.) She took another spoonful and that warmth overpowered her again. (But a woman can dream…)

 

 

 

 

 

Niyleen

 

 

Rah! Fund nust ofaal daarz nalkun?

 

Niyleen sighed. Nega had been active again since she’d awakened and she also had been speaking in some foreign tongue.  Considering what the Halfling had found out, she assumed that it was the language of the dragons, but was unsure. After all, even if Nega would answer her—which she wouldn’t-she’d answer in that language—which Niyleen didn’t understand.

Having just explained everything again to Carciel and Nyleine for the umpteenth time, Niyleen sighed again. She hadn’t told them about the cycles or any of their past circumstances, but she felt she was still able to give them a detailed overview of what she’d learned. It may have taken over two days, but by the look on her sister and Carciel’s faces she finally believed that they had caught up. “So… do you get it now?”

Carciel nodded. “History has shown that when the Daedric Princes act, it isn’t usually just one. I believe in the upcoming days we are going to see even more of these unholy beings and we should prepare ourselves accordingly.”

 

Niyleen nodded in agreement. “Sis, what about you? Your thoughts?”

It took her a moment to say anything, but when she did Nyleine frowned. “I understand what you’re saying, but it was all just a dream Big Sis. Sure, Telind was a follower of Boethiah and sure Boethiah herself intervened, but I don’t believe that that coupled with your dream mean that we’ve become wrapped up in some larger than life scheme that the Daedric Princes have plotted. More or less, we are just ordinary people, not even registering on their senses.” She looked at her sister and gave a half smile. “Besides, the two of us will be just fine.”

Carciel rose, her face stiffened. “You think it would be better to wait here unprepared? To be attacked unawares? My sister said the Daedric Princes want the Dragonborn and her.” She pointed at Niyleen emphatically. “This isn’t a game of house anymore Nyleine. Grow up! There are things bigger than you going on.”

This time Nyleine rose, the anger on her face apparent. “Your sister said this? The same sister that died?”

 

“How did you—”

 

“I told her,” Niyleen admitted, feeling slightly ashamed now that her sister had used the information against the Breton. “We were sharing about our pasts. I didn’t think it would do any harm.”

 

Carciel looked pained, but understood. “Yes.” She glared at the necromancer. “The same one your sister killed.”

 

Niyleen felt an aching in her chest as her sister and the Breton stared off and engaged in a heated verbal exchange. (This isn’t right.) She brought a knee to her chest and looked away from the two of them. (Nothing is going right. I thought my sister would be on board and we’d figure out some way to go about defeating the Daedric Princes, but with her thinking they’re not even a threat…)

“You idiotic Redguard bitch,” Carciel said, making Niyleen focus on their argument again. “What don’t you understand? Your sister is in danger. They don’t know that we know this. We have the upper hand! Why can’t you put it together that we have to act now if we’re going to do anything about it?”

 

“Please,” Nyleine said with a snort. “You just want any excuse to stay near my sister. I can’t’ believe that my sister simply was gathering a harem while I was out in the world honing my craft so that I could finally be reunited with her. Ah, luck of the firstborn I guess?”

 

“A hare-I want to-w-what!?” Carciel looked at Niyleen and reddened. “I-I-I have no such f-feelings towards your sister! I wanted her dead not too long ago r-remember?”

 

“They say that the best lovers start off as enemies, and the way you were fretting over her…” Nyleine said narrowing her eyes. “That was not how a simple friend would react.” Carciel tried to speak, but her words wouldn’t come out. Flustered, she gave Nyleine a fierce look before exiting the lair. As soon as the entrance closed behind her Nyleine burst into laughter. “I can’t believe the stupid girl really loved you! Didn’t she know? So, stupid. Believing things in dreams can come—”

 

Niyleen pushed her sister to the ground hard and stood over her. Her little sister looked at her with eyes filled with surprise and concern. Before she could react Niyleen said, “STAY HERE! I’m going… I’m going out on an assignment.” She turned and walked away from her sister.

 

“B-Big Sis! Wait—”

 

“I think it’s best if the three of us cool our heads for the time being,” Niyleen said her back still facing her sister. “A bit of space would all of us well at the moment.” And before her sister could get in a word edgewise Niyleen was up the ladder and out of the lair.

(Dammit it all to Oblivion!) Niyleen wanted to scream, to shout, but then what? She needed to get Carciel and Nyleine on the same page but her and her sister’s actions were taking her further and further from that goal. Kicking the dirt, the Halfling walked toward the Southern Watchtower. She could feel the rain cooling her down and lowering her heartbeat until she saw something in the corner of her eye. Turning weapon drawn, Niyleen was ready to cut the creature down, until she noticed its pale skin and the outfit it was wearing. “Carciel?”

 

“Yeah?” The Breton said her voice almost a whisper.

 

 

 

 

Niyleen sheathed her sword. She couldn’t look the Breton in the eyes after what Nyleine had done. “Look, I’m sorry about what happened back there.” She meant that, but didn’t know whether or not Carciel would believe her considering that her sister was at the root of it all. “My sister… she just… I mean—”

 

Carciel shook her head. Her pained green eyes looked into Niyleen’s. “Your sister was right. I do love you Niyleen.”

 

The Halfling blinked. This was news to her. There hadn’t been any signs, well none that she could have made out anyway. “W-where is this coming from anyway? DIdn’t you want to kill me not too long ago? I thought I was still on your shit list.”

 

The Breton sighed. “I began to have feelings for you when I finally realized and accepted that you didn’t mean to kill my sister.” Her words were soft and almost drowned out by the rain, but Niyleen made sure to catch each one. “It would have pained me to say this, but I know that if you could do it all over again, you would have rather died than have killed Eolri.” She paused. “If… If I had to be specific, it started in Markarth after that fight where you saved my life, and in developed further when you were trying to protect Lucari from your past..” Carciel swallowed hard. “I could see the honesty in all that you were and it was just so… appealing. I would have never acted on it though, probably would have never brought it up. I especially wouldn’t now, not when Lucari doesn’t even have a fair chance to further capture your heart. Heh,” Carciel smirked. “You and Lucari were a good match if you would ever accept her feelings. Anyone could see it. Besides,” she said with a sad smile. “I didn’t want to ruin Lucari’s happiness or the blossoming friendship I was forming with you both.”

 

“We’re friends?!” Niyleen cursed herself when she saw the pain in Carciel’s eyes when the words escaped her mouth. “I… I didn’t mean… I just thought we were strictly comrades. Sure I wanted to be your friend but I never imaged you wanting to be mine… Not after…”

 

“It’s alright.” Carciel smiled, but Niyleen knew that smile. She was hurting, Nyleine had laid the foundation, and Niyleen had hammered it in. “You don’t have to force it. Besides,” she laughed. “Me? With a woman? Gods… Eoly would rip me a new one if she found out…”

 

Niyleen frowned. (We both know that’s not true. You know me and Eolri were an item.) She wanted to take Carciel’s hand in hers, tell her all the words she needed to hear, but her body wouldn’t respond. Wait, her body really wouldn’t respond! Struggling her hardest to move, fear coursed through Niyleen’s bones when she saw the magic pouring from in Carciel’s palms into her body.

 

“I don’t need your charity. Soft, kind words? A gentle, caring platonic, although sensual touch? I don’t want them! Not now. Especially not from someone whose heart belongs to another!” Carciel released Niyleen, watching the Halfing drop to her knees panting profusely. “This whole thing was a waste. I wish my sister would have rather continued the Hunt for all of this…”

 

“It wasn’t a waste,” Niyleen said in between breaths. “If you… hadn’t come, I-I would be dead. I owe you… my life Ciel. So please… don’t go.” Carciel didn’t say a word, and simply watched as the Halfing got to her feet, making no move to assist her. “We need—I need you with me now.” Niyleen said knowing that there were a million ways that could be interpreted, but not caring. “Whether or not you see yourself as a replacement for Lucari, I need you. I need Carciel Syliel, the deadliest…” Niyleen gave her a soft smile. “…and most caring Breton I’ve ever met, around to stay by my side.”

 

 

Suddenly Carciel went up to Niyleen wrapped her arms around her and the Breton touched her lips to the Halflings. The kiss, although onesided, was deep, passionate, and over before Niyleen could wrap her head around it, leaving Niyleen shocked and without her breath… and longing.

 

Carciel turned from the Halfling and said, “I won’t be anyone’s replacement. But,” she looked back with a half-smile. “I won’t mind staying around for a while.”  The Breton then walked off toward Whiterun leaving the Halfling speechless.

 

Fucking finally. Nega said, there was a hint of laughter in her voice.

 

Niyleen’s knees gave out and she touched her lips. That softness, that warmth, she wanted more needed more. Her heart was pounding, and slowly she could feel herself becoming lost in what was and what could have been. (Me and Carciel?) She could feel herself getting hot when the image of a certain smiling blonde haired Nord came into her head. “Lucari…” As much as she had been through, as much as she had wanted her to be safe, Niyleen had forgotten all about Lucari in her recent happiness, and now lust. Niyleen slammed her fists to the ground.  She felt sick, yet again she had betrayed the one person who always had complete trust in her from the first moment they laid eyes on each other. Even though they weren’t exactly a couple, this betrayal ran truer than any she had done in the past to friend and foe alike. Not only had she betrayed Lucari romantically, when she found out Lucari had gone missing finding her was the furthest thing from her mind.

 

“Gods… what have I… what have I done!”

 

 

 

 

Hyahaahaahahahaa! Romance? Really? Nega mocked again in the common language. Here I thought a world ending threat would have more precedence than your fickle flights of fancy in regards to love. By the Gods, the ‘Fourth’ is so idiotic. Hahahahahaahahaaaa!

 

Niyleen stood up and closed her eyes.

What? Are you going to cry? Need a—

 

Niyleen closed out everything, focusing her thoughts on only one thing. (Lucari…) Focusing her entire being on the image of the Nord woman, Niyleen gathered a swirling blue magic in her left hand, held it out in front of her and… nothing.

 

This is rich! Nega prodded, breaking Niyleen’s concentration. You think you’re some kind of avant-garde mage? You idiot! You can’t even cast Novice spells and you’re trying to tweak—

 

Niyleen focused harder, harder! There was only one thing that mattered, only one person that she needed to find, and she wasn’t about to let the First distract her any longer. Soon, the sounds of nature disappeared. (Harder, harder!) Then everything began to blend around her. (More, come on MORE!) Everything went blurry and was accompanied by the music of her heart beating. Lucari came more and more into view. She wasn’t the same Nord that she’d last seen, she was a vampire, chained, being turned into a subservient monster that would do her every beck and call.

 

 

 

 

She let the magic in her hand go forth once more and a path was laid out before her. Not waiting to celebrate, Niyleen dashed off in search of Lucari. (I’m coming Lucari. May the dawn keep you…)

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Darth Omix]

With little feedback, we're back with more of The Book of Darkness!

Miss the first Part? It's on the same page of this thread!

 

 

 

 

Unrest, distrust, civil discourse and betrayal. Sevara’s mission was to generally fuck shit up in the city of Whiterun. And so she followed a patrol of Imperial soldiers up until she could see the city. At which point, the bastards had worn out their usefulness.

 

 

“Like taking candy from a baby. A sleeping, narcoleptic baby who couldn’t notice if you tried.” Sevara was rather confident in her task as she kept to the back streets of Whiterun, occasionally using her powers, and a bit of her natural feminine wiles, to manipulate the mostly-male guardsmen of the city to...ignore her actions.

 

 

“It takes a good man to bend over for a woman, it takes a special one to do so while sucking another man’s cock.” Sevara began to question if people were really that pent-up, or was her power over their desires stronger than she’d anticipated?

 

 

In the dark corridors of Dragonsreach, Sevara heard talk about intelligence coming from the nearby village of Riverwood of a rare sighting. A sighting of Dragons.

 

“Pfft. Dragons? Just something told in bedtime stories to show how things have changed. Dragons are long-since dead.” She said to herself, more for her own benefit than anything else. As a fledgling vampire, she would quite possibly have quite the weakness to such legendary fire. But she needed to know for sure.

 

 

The thoughts and memories of one of the Jarl’s men proved worthless. The man’s mind was clouded with thoughts of battle, and of plunging his shaft into the ass of a Dunmer named Irileth, the Jarl’s housecarl. A woman that Sevara could not find in the castle. However, there was indeed one with far more important memories worth taking a peek inside.

 

 

The Jarl’s thoughts were a complicated tapestry of politics, suspicion, apprehension, something about sweetrolls, and an anecdote about an adventurer raving about Dragons near Riverwood. Just the detail she needed!

“With this I...I can...Find...” Sevara’s head was getting clouded with thoughts of sex, as her feedings had flooded her system with raw, unadulterated lust. It was as if she were going to burst if she didn’t get off somewhere.

 

 

On the road out of Dragonsreach, Sevara encountered a man and woman of rival families bickering about some nonsense. Waving dismissively at them with a muttered “Fuck off, the two of you,” Sevara was astounded when the man shed his clothes and presented his shaft to the woman, who bent at the waist and began to blow him, right there in the street.

 

What raw, untapped power did Sevara hold if she were able to manipulate two heated enemies so easily?

 

 

The more she considered it, the more her newfound abilities troubled her. None of her fellow Vampires seemed to have this power over the desires of others. Was there something special about her that the others just weren’t telling her? As the lust began clouding her judgement again, she wondered what she could do, and where she could go for answers.

 

It was at this time that she ran into the aforementioned Dunmer, Irileth who was trying to rid herself of a rather...interesting accidental enchantment. Sevara asked to see just what she was dealing with to see if she could help, but the horsecock-weilding Dunmer was quickly pulled to the ground as Sevara’s baser desires took over.

 

 

“Mmm, fuck, I don’t think...Aaah~...You should get this fixed. I think...Nnn...It’s rather fun, don’t you?” Sevara cooed into Irileth’s ear as she pounded the Dunmer’s tight holes from below, the transfigured woman’s new horsecock bouncing with lustful delight. Irileth could only reply with lewd, throaty moans as Sevara climaxed, dumping a hot, thick load into her depths.

Afterword, Sevara was able to use a bit of Vampiric Seduction or some such thing to leave the Dunmer enthralled and unaware that she’d just been blissfully filled with a Vampire’s seed as the former disappeared into the shadows. However, around the back of a building, Sevara found something reminding her of her own...Was mortality the word?

 

 

A Master Vampire and his Thralls lay splayed on the ground, stabbed and slashed by the blades of the Whiterun guards. How is it that they failed when Sevara was much less experienced as a Vampire? Was she so new to the whole concept that she didn’t display the “tell-tale signs” of being a Vampire? Or was it tied to her seemingly paranormal effect on the desires of those around her?

 

 

 

Note:

 

I'm open to ideas, suggestions, and such. I'm even considering having an entire section of story being totally based on feedback. Also, I'm looking for ideas for a recurring cast member. Whether they be a member of Sevara's party, or a rival or some such thing, feel free to suggest ideas to me.

 

Also, next time I will do my damnedest to remember to play with facial expressions. I legitimately forgot how to when taking some of these.