Wassup?
…
Idk what to say…
First, a disclaimer; there will probably be tons of inconsistencies.
And spelling errors.
Well, not so much spelling but autocorrect.
I'm sorry about saying there would be a chapter for The Exterior ASAP, Saturday.
If I can't keep a promise I should GTFO
To make up for it I decided to release two new stories, the ones I offered a poll to find out which one would be first.
This one got one vote…
The only vote :(
OC's are welcome, as always…
—
Caspar gazed out the opening wagon.
They'd passed the city dungeon.
He cleared his throat.
"Pardon, but where are we going?"
"Quiet, thief."
The Dunmer laughed.
"An Altmer thief?"
Caspar sighed, and combed his spiked short hair. The guard snatched his comb.
He would never get any recognition because he was Altmer.
"Now I've seen it all…"
Even the Khajiit chuckled. He'd been quiet the whole time.
"No wonder you were caught…"
"I've completed hundreds of heists, thank you very much."
The Khajiit looked up, at Caspar. He'd stared at the wagon floor, his face engulfed in shadow and hidden by his hood.
Now Caspar could see he had brown fur and blue eyes.
"This one doesn't believe it."
They were the only three in the wagon. It seemed to be heading out of the city.
"And what are you in for, Khajiit?"
"Murder. Accident, though. Wasn't my fault either."
"A Khajiit not a thief? Now I've seen it all…"
"I've completed hundreds of heists, thank you very much."
The Khajiit mimicked his voice perfectly, even using an Altmer accent and abandoning his speech impediment.
"Just never been caught before…"
Caspar growled.
"You'll learn your place soon enough."
The Khajiit grinned.
"Shut up back there! We'll knock you out early!"
"What?"
The Dunmer was hit with a club. The guard sitting to the right of the driver reached back through the hole in the canvas and smacked him.
The Dunmer said something in his native tongue, probably an insult.
"Ouch… Bastard…"
"Ha! You think that's painful? You aren't going to prison! You're going to Coredalf's killing halls!"
Caspar looked to his fellow prisoners for help.
"Opposite of Sovngarde."
The Dunmer whispered.
Caspar wasn't familiar with the Pangean religion.
His home country of the Somerset Isle was the only area in Tamriel still not conquered by the Pangean Empire.
The Pangeans themselves were elfin in shape, but had scales instead of skin, commonly a dark green.
Their eyes were like gold.
And their hair was white like snow.
Caspar wasn't sure, but he thought Coredalf was the god of death.
They had at least a hundred gods, which everyone else was taught before the days of the week.
If they were going to prison, Caspar wasn't worried.
He'd been in and out of prisons in his youth.
He was only worried his finely trimmed goatee would turn into a beard.
—
It had been at least five hours.
A candle had been lit, not for their convenience, but for the driver's.
There was simply no other place to put it than the back.
It was dark out, and they were moving through the woods.
They were in Black Marsh, which Caspar could see by the swampland and glowing yellow eyes of frogs.
For Caspar, it was oddly calming.
The Khajiit kept making nervous glances out the small openings.
He'd taken his hood off, and Caspar saw he had a black Mohawk and an odd purple rash-like patch of fur, going like a scar through his eye.
The Dunmer had fallen asleep.
So had the guard, judging by his snoring.
"We're going out to the ocean."
The Khajiit seemed worried, alert.
He'd been somewhat quiet and stoic before, apart from the one instance where he mocked Caspar.
"How can you tell?"
"This one can see the ocean through the trees to our left. You don't have Khajiit eyes. Look for the moonlight on the water."
Caspar had to squint to see the thin white line.
The carriage came to a halt.
They jerked forward, and the Dunmer awoke.
The guard almost fell off, and ordered everyone except the driver off the cart.
"Don't move, don't fight back."
"What"-
There was a blur of brown as the club whacked Caspar in the face. He was instantly knocked out.
—
A time later, he was revived.
The three were on a beach. It was still dark out.
There was a small person in robes, with a hood. Caspar couldn't tell their gender.
"Sit and mimic me."
They all sat in a small boat and were instructed on how to use the oars to propel the boat.
Caspar couldn't tell where they were going.
It must have been confidential, since they were knocked out.
As the sun broke over the horizon, Caspar found himself drifting off to sleep.
—―
I hope this chapter was satisfying.
It was short, that's for sure.
Average for me is about 1000.
It felt so good to see OC's on my other story.
I had a reader from way back, a new guy, and someone who wasn't sure about making their OC.
A diverse group.
Also, I haven't really published anything but a prologue for "Hatred, Eternal"
So that's why I'm giving those updates in this story.
Please don't everyone go with Sub-Zero
TBH I like Scorpion better.
You can have as many OC's as you want.
Now, I didn't put weapons for a reason but you can have handcrafted knives, axes, etc, and magic, under the skills section.
The OC From
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Appearance:
Skills:
Personality:
Reason for being on the island (crime):
Optional
—
History:
Other: