Authors Note: I wanted to play a Maormer (sea elf) in ESO, but I had to come up with some reason, some crisis of consience that would justify it...
Standard disclaimer: I do not own any of the wondrous creations of Bethesda Softworks or Zenimax Online, however I certainly lay claim to misspellings, mistakes, tweaks, spells and characters of my own invention.
~~ Assault On Kenarthi~~
Holding her staff high in both hands, Kitalya stood proudly next to her mentor as the two of them called wind and wave to crush the foolish drylander ships that prowled waters that should belong to none but the Sea-Kin. Laughing aloud as crackles of static danced in her hair, she gestured slightly with the fingers or her right hand and lightning twined down from the sky to dance across a sail, and send shreds of smoking fabric spinning into the dusk.
In the distance she could see someone on the enemy craft was calling forth flame of some kind. Beside her, her mentor spoke a single word. The clouds darkened, and torrents of rain doused the foolish attempt.
She could feel power all around her, in the thrumming of her staff, the way the deck underfoot shifted with the waves, the wild energies in the air that wove her once braided hair into a sable corona. It was beautiful. Ahead, beyond the enemy ships, she could see the froth that marked where waves her people had conjured were slamming into shore. Teaching the beastmer and their kin proper respect for the lords of the sea.
When the last of the foriegn ships had been swept away, the fleet-commander signaled for the storm-callers to let loose the reins of the sea and sky and slowly they returned to calm. She did so only, slowly, only reluctantly. It had been wonderful. Beside her she could hear the sigh of regret as her mentor unwound his power from the skies and let the clouds begin to disperse.
As the exultation faded, Kitalya was aware that she was wet. And cold. And her eyes were wanting to close. Belatedly, and somewhat groggily, she realized she'd never been involved in a working of this magnitude, or one that lasted even half as long.
She was only dimly aware of one of the apprentices steering her to her assigned bedding.
She woke slowly out of a heavy sleep, warmed by the charmed blanket that had been placed over her. The sounds of arguments and the smells of cooking told her that all was going well. She could hear Vriandil insisting that it wasn't too early in the day for springwine. She smiled to herself, and quickly untangled herself from hammok and bedding.
Her mentor looked her over quickly; he didn't seem particularly pleased, or displeased. Covertly looking around she didn't see any of the other Adept ranked Storm Callers, so she wondered was she first up? Or last?
"You have been assigned to scavenger duty." He informed her. The dryness of his tone told her that it was not his idea, and cautioned her against protest.
She swallowed her aggravation, and helped herself to a breakfast of roe-and-kelpweed. "What am I looking for?"
"Anything esoteric, including any dryland survivors that might be trainable, or potential threats." A short pause, a glance to the nearest military officer, and he added quietly. "Or potential gifts."
"Gift" was a designation that referred to someone who was not talented enough to be trainable, but had enough latent ability to be a powerful sacrifice. The more potential the 'gift' had, and the longer the sacrificial ritual went, and the more power the ritual would net. It would be a great honor to find such a one, and an even greater one to be taught to release and control that power.
She nodded.
She rode in a light skiff with three others, all low ranking crewmembers. She'd not been given any authority over them, nor they over her. It seemed the military and the storm-callers might still be at odds about how the chain of command was working. Or not working. Inwardly she sighed. It was a long standing conflict. One she and her brother, who was a lieutenant in the military order, never agreed on.
In any case, the morning smelled of sea. The wind was cool, and the sea was calm. All was peaceful.
As they approached the land, she could see great hulking sections of what had once been clunky drylander ships. They'd not stood a chance against the storm-caller weavings. She felt proud of her guild, and her power.
"The storm comes/ and none shall remain" She chanted softly to herself.
The beach was scattered with detrius. Bits of ship, blown trees.
And bodies.
Well... of course there were bodies. This was a prelude to war, and enemies died in war.
She paced slowly along the beach. Pale skin, and limbs twisted into wrong shapes. Bones broken when the ... man? mer? had been flung against a tree by the storm. Further up the hills she could see sheared off support pillars, sections of carved wood; remains of what must have been dwellings of some kind. The dwellings had been on stilts of sorts. Well carved. Artistic. Sort of.
She'd been told these were savages.
PIcking her way uphill, she saw torn leaves and kelp lying across what looked like ... fur? Moving a largish section of palm, she saw a furry.. .cat-mer. It was holding a smaller being. A ... a baby? So what if it was a baby. The sight of a dead baby beast-mer shouldn't make breakfast sit any less comfortably in her stomach.
The remains of enclosures, and the corpses of dead groups of animals. She didn't know what kind they were, but they had clearly been in some sort of herd or group.
A wailing cry caught her attention, and she picked her way through broken crates to find a small silver haired, wide-eyed mer child. A toddler. Their eyes met, and the little one held out arms in a gesture that clearly meant 'pick me up'.
She stepped foward. "Hello." She said cautiously in Altmeris.
"I want my mama." The little one said, gesturing with arms wide. His accent was odd, and the tone was childish, but the words were perfectly understandable.
Hesitantly she said. "I'm ... new here. I don't know your mama." Out of the corner of her eye she scanned the beach to either side, trying not to be obvious about it. She wasn't sure if she was hoping to see any of her people or not.
The small child's pale blue eyes swam with tears. "I want mama. Help me find her?"