So after listening to the Ceremonials album nearly 100 times, I thought that the themes the songs were about fit perfectly into the plot line that had been rolling about in the back of my mind since I began to play the wonderful, life absorbing game that is Skyrim. I'm just throwing this out there sooooo reviews are unexplainably appreciated because the idea may be working well in my head.. but the translation to the printed word is desperately lacking.
PS: The lyrics are bolded BUT they may not be perfectly word for word because I had to change them to fit into the sentence/idea – thingy…. thoughts are italicized (woah that's a hard word to spell. Took me a couple tries with spellcheck).Oh, I also want to apologize in advance for a couple choice words. I'm not sure if it enough to warrant a mature rating, but you have been warned, it's less then what they say in the game!
A slight figure walked along the edge of a cliff overlooking a giant field; a field in which history would be made. The figure stopped, her carmine eyes grazing the horizon, assessing the numbers of her enemies, her mind formulating the perfect battle strategy she would use to destroy them. Oh, how foolish they were. How dare they attempt to go up against her.
"Holy water cannot help you now, Emperor," she whispered softly to the wind, her eyes narrowed in disgust of the opposing unit. The inexorable power of Purity couldn't stop the annihilation that would soon take place. Once in motion, her plans were always too strong to be stopped. "A thousand armies couldn't keep me out. I don't want your money. I don't want your crown." She spat on the ground after thinking about the detestable Imperials and their wealth and influence – and how they achieved it. The Stormcloaks didn't need what the outsiders had to offer. Skyrim could only be great when it was finally free of the damned Imperials. Until then, she would not rest until the wishes of Ulfric, her lord and master, were fulfilled. She began the ascent down to the encampment, where the commanders of the Stormcloaks strongest seven units were discussing their trivial opinions on how to win this battle. No matter, she would eventually make them see sense. She always made them follow her advice. With a smirk she cast one last glance at the Imperial camp.
"See I have to tell you, I've come to burn your kingdom down. No rivers and no lakes can put my fire out. I'm gonna raise the stakes, I'm gonna smoke you out."
On the opposite side of the field, one lone Imperial officer sat in a limp position in his chair, eyes locked onto the highest rise of the cliffs where a small figure had just disappeared from. It was at that figures appearance that a torrent of dread filled the aging man. All he could do was look at the rise, hoping, but not believing, that what he had seen was a product of his imagination. Of course, that was impossible. Years in the Imperial army had effectively driven out what ever childish imagination he may have had. His lamenting was disturbed by the footsteps of a man behind him. Barely turning his head, the elder man saw his second in command in his peripheral vision.
"Sir, is anything wrong?" Foolish boy. The second didn't understand the hopelessness of it all. The only thing the battle would bring tomorrow would be a swift defeat, and not in their favor.
"Boy, look out to where our enemies are amassing. The seven militias of Ulfric Stormcloak have never been defeated. How can you imagine having seven devils all around you, and you alone are responsible for the fate of the men they surround. They were there when I woke up this morning, just waiting in absolute silence, the sort of silence that drives a man mad with apprehension. You know what this silence means, boy? I means that I'll be dead before the day is done."
"Sir?" The young man looked at his superior with a glimmer of his inner innocence. By the end of this event he would no longer have the peace that the small amount of innocence brought, if he was even lucky enough to survive.
"That silence is her melody, her final cry, her symphony. Silence gives birth to the chaos she ensues."
"She?" Poor, poor boy.
"Angelus mortis, the Angel of Death. Without her Ulfric wouldn't have a chance against our forces. Unfortunately, he is favored by some very powerful higher beings, or - lower beings. Her skill is unsurpassed on the battle field, and in the shadows. She is a warrior and an assassin, and the best at both. Her battle strategies are prophetic and all that remains after a battle she had led is the corpses of our men far outnumbering the dead of the Stormcloaks."
"But she is mortal like the rest of us, a woman besides. No one as powerful as her can burn so brightly for so long. Her reign is coming to an end, and then we will have the perfect chance to strike."
"You cannot defeat those who were born of evil and conflict, boy. Our only hope is that she will be ultimately reclaimed by the darkness that gave her supremacy."
She was pleased with the plan she and the officers had formulated. It was going to be perfect, effective, and most importantly, make the Imperials regret that they had ever set foot in Skyrim. This was the final message to those bastards, and it was going to leave an impression in order to stop them forever. Studying the map of the battlefield intensely, she almost felt a hint of pity for the brutes. The small flags signifying the seven armies of Ulfric Stormcloak formed a less than half circle around her own black flag on the map. The single flag of the Imperials was a pathetic red marker that represented an equally pathetic force.
"Seven devils all around you. Seven devils in my power." She caressed the red flag with narrowed eyes. She gave a scream and violently knocked the flag to the ground. "You'll be dead before the day is done."
In a dark cave, a daedric prince cackled piercingly, the maniacal, demonic sound echoing harshly on the hard walls.
"This cave can keep me high, 'til I tear the walls… 'til I save your heart," she crooned, and petted the invisible organ in her hand, "and to take your soul." The cave walls glowed a brilliant red, the daedra prince sucked in a breath, gaining more strength as she did so. She once thought that this would be her prison for eternity. Now it seemed to be the perfect vessel for her chaos.
"What have we done?" She whispered to the cave, gently touching the crimson rocks. "Can it be undone?" She cackled again, the sound ripping through the fibers of the walls. Her hatred lashed out of her body and into the walls, causing the cave to shudder violently. "In the evil's heart, in the evil's soul, the destruction of humanity will be born."
The legion commander was shaken out of his thoughts by a terrified soldier, his eyes, wide with fear, reflected the flickering light of the lone candle illuminating the tent.
"What is it?" The commander demanded.
The soldier stuttered over his words but managed to get out "it's begun."
"WHAT?" The commander rose out of his chair, furious at the absurdity of the statement. "Even she isn't good enough to lead her forces to a victory while it is still so dark outside!" It had been an odd night in Skyrim. The lights that usually danced around in the night sky hadn't made an appearance. Even the wind from the sea had died down to an occasional stir.
"Sir, outside," the frightened soldier whispered and ran out the tent. The commander followed, confused. As soon as he emerged from his tent, his heart stooped for a brief moment. The horizon, opposite from the enemy encampment, was ablaze with a bright orange, growing brighter and larger by the second. With the dry grass of the large field providing a steady fuel for the fire, it would begin to reach the Imperial camp within minutes.
"Give the command to mobilize the camp. Everyone needs to leave, and fast. Pack as much as possible, but drop everything if the fire reaches us too soon. Run to the coast line." The soldier nodded and began yelling the commander's orders at the top of his lungs up and down the rows of tents, the urgency of the moment taking precedence over his terrified stutter.
The commander himself was only able to pack a fraction of his belongings and begin the exodus to the sea, along with his second and a few men lower down in the chain of command. All were running at full speed, their life depended on it. Their group was one of the first to glimpse the coastline, their hope of survival. This joyous feeling was immediately extinguished at the sight of hundreds of men along the coast, all with their weapons drawn. At the front, a small black-clad figure with an ebony blade balanced carelessly against her shoulder.
"Welcome, my lord Imperial," she spoke with sarcastic vehemence.
Well played, Angelus, the commander thought, all hope of survival for his men gone.
When the brilliant sun rose, its rays barely permeated the dirty haze that hung over the field. The wind that typically ripped through the valley was still, forcing the smell of rot to intensify as the hours went on. The beach close to the field was stained crimson, consequently changing the color of the water each time it lapped against the shore. The bodies of hundreds of men were covered with scavengers, feasting off of humanity's loss.
One man among the hundreds was the only survivor, left to suffer alone amidst the horror. He was not without wounds. The pain inflicted by them forced him to lie in agony beside his fallen friends. Not five feet from him, the commander, his hero, lay dead. The only thing the second could do was silently grieve, the desire for revenge growing slowly inside of him.
You will be sorry for this, Angelus.
A/N: I hoped you liked the first chapter and it wasn't too confusing, albeit a little dark.… Please review! I love constructive criticism, but please, no flames.
