A/N Setting up.
Alt title: An elf!? Blasphemous!
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WOW this took a long time to come out.
next up is a chapter of The Wild Tale of Cyril Leon
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ARay9581: I intend to!
DancingLeaf: Ah, the elite treating the hardworking as commodities even in a fantasy world. I feel for Azuraitha.
I have a science degree and work the paint counter at a Walmart.
Here's some more Lilyrael.
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-Date, Time-
'Thoughts'
"Speech"
System
(Text)
*Sounds/Actions*
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-Alftand, Winterhold, 9th of Rain's Hand, 4E 201, 8am-
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Lilyrael POV
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"What am I looking for Mistress?" Azuraitha's deep, guttural voice resounds.
We've been fortunate not to encounter any disruptions. The only issue being how many nests of Atmorans we've had to fly around. Extending what was supposed to be a seven day flight at most. Though, it is still preferable to the month long march that would've been needed to be undergone had we traveled by foot.
The stops we made did give me time to further practice my alchemy. Allowing myself to better reverse this disease the traitorous Dwemer forced upon my kin. When we finally find the original recipe.
"There should be an embassy overlooking a cliff!" I shout over the winds. "With four towers!"
"What might these towers look like?" Azuraitha asks.
"I'd imagine they would be of standard Dwemer architecture! Grey stone with Dwemeric metal shingles for the roofing!"
"I see three such towers." Azuraitha answers. "However, they are partially on a cliff, and partially in an iced crevice that cuts into it."
'That can't be right.' I think to myself.
"Bank around, tilt so that I may see!" I command.
Azuraitha does so, and I get a look as what certainly is Dwemer towers. And this is the supposed location of the Alftand Embassy for the Northern Shores. But, the embassy building is gone. And the cliff is marred and left with a scar in its face. But, more than that.
Wooden huts and hide tents. The savages have made their way here. Picking at any bits of scrap they can.
"It seems we'll not have an easy time." I say to myself. "Very well, if I must play the part of exterminator, so be it. Azuraitha! Scorch the Atmoran huts!"
"As you wish." She says in an almost playful tone.
I hold on tight, as do my two accompanying attendants, as Azuraitha dives down. Loud, thunderous screeching assaults my ears as lightning is unleashed. All other sound is drowned out by the hiss and crackles of Azuraitha's breath.
It's not much longer that Azuraitha lands, jolting us to attention as she leans to one side. Extending a wing to allow us down.
"Naerynda, Aerencoar, dispatch and set up camp." I instruct my attendants. "We've no clue as to how long we'll be here. So set the camp to last."
"Of course." Aerencoar says as he gathers his tools and slides down Azuraitha's wing.
"On it!" Naerynda says shakily as she stumbles. Grabbing her gear and tripping, rolling down Azuraitha's wing with a squawk.
I on the other hand, stand up and walk along the top of her head as she lowers it to the ground.
Looking around, I see we've landed next to a hut. One that remains untouched by Azuraitha's attack.
"I thought I told you to destroy the Atmoran structures." I say as I glare at the structure.
"I figured that if nothing else, it'll serve as decent kindling." Azuraitha says after returning to her Falmer form. "We are lacking in raw materials. And my gate can only connect to the vale for an hour, Mistress Lilyrael. If I have offended you, I will correct my mistake in short order."
Thinking on it. I suppose she brings up a decent argument. It could serve as a decent source of lumber for the time being.
"Perhaps I was I too hasty in my demands." I concede. "We need all we can use. Thank you Azuraitha."
"It is not a problem." She says as she steps in front of me to give a curtsy. "However, perhaps we should deal with the individual still inside the structure?"
"Urgh." I can't help but scoff in disgust. "Take the Atmoran and toss him over the cliff. If Auri-El wills it he'll survive."
"No!" The wretch cries out as, he? Runs out of the hut and prostrates himself before me. "Please! I'll give you anything!"
He's, a Bosmer. In hide, ram furs with crude metallic attachments.
"What, is this?" I ask.
"I believe the mer is begging for his life." Azuraitha says as she straightens herself. Looking down at the, the, I'm not even sure what this is.
"I see that, but, tell me good Mer!" I demand of the prostrated wood elf. "Of what manner are you held here? Be honest with me."
Perhaps he's a captive? And managed to slip out in the brief chaos Azuraitha's attack caused.
"I, we heard this place was decent enough out of the way." He says. "So we holed up here and siphoned off the caravans for the war. Never too much to be missed, but, enough to be comfortable."
'Now I have, several more questions.' I think to myself.
"Pray tell, which side of the war are you siphoning from, and for who?" I ask, hoping to mask my ignorance and gleam some information.
"Um, both, I suppose." He answers unsurely. "Though mostly from Stormcloaks in Winterhold. And, for ourselves really."
A deep, deep sense of disgust boils in my gut as I realize the truth of the matter. Looking back towards one of the charred corpses, seeing the rounded ears, square jaw, and bits of pale skin. And looking back to the Mer.
"You're bandits." I state.
"Well, I prefer to call myself a hunter of luxuries. But, yes most refer to us as such." He says with a dubious tone as he looks up at me. "Please don-"
"Who gave you permission to look up you squirrel?" I sneer at the disgrace of a Mer.
"Please!" He says as he buries his face into the snow. "I don't want to die okay!?"
Looking upon the pathetic form of the Bosmer, I sigh as I know what I must do.
"May Auri-El preserve your soul." I say softly, causing the mer to look at me in confusion. "For the wolves certainly won't preserve your body."
It is not a moment later that Azuraitha step forward, causing the maggot of a mer to scramble. Shouting obscenities as he clumsily gets to his feet and tries to run.
Azuraitha grabs him by his collar and pulls him close to herself. Holding him in a death grip from behind.
"Hmm, he's quite the specimen." Azuraitha says. "Do you mind if I play with him a bit before I kill him, mistress?"
"Hurry up." I say plainly, intent on allowing her to toy with her food. "We still need to set up camp proper and your gate spell is crucial towards that end."
It's important to keep your retainers happy, lest they become instrumental in your downfall.
"Hmm, is thirty minutes enough?" She asks.
"That is the extent of what I'm willing to allow." I say.
"Perfect!" She says before wings grow out of her back and she flies off.
Turning back towards my other two attendants, Naerynda has already set up her cooking pot and spit. Merely setting up stones to mark the fire's position. Meanwhile, Aerencoar has his bow out as he scours the crevices edge. Keeping his ears out to hear for any disturbances.
"I suppose I am to wait." I say to myself.
It's not entirely bad. The air is pleasant, and the wind gives a soothing hum. I've not had much peace and quiet in recent memory. So this is rather welcome.
I am curious as to what exactly Azuraitha is doing
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-7 minutes later-
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Lilyrael POV
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As I'm staring out over the blanketed wastes, contemplating our next move in the quiet serenity.
Right now I need to focus on reaching Fal'Zhardum Din. Finding the alchemist's apothecary and research lab. Then curing my people.
After that, we rebuild. The Vale will make a good starting point. It was once the capital of our kingdom, and can serve as such once more. The abundant natural resources and isolated nature of the Vale will prove crucial towards its defense.
More than that however, we'll need labor. Specialized and unspecialized. It hurts to know that many of my people's crafts are likely lost. Gelebor may be a good source in rebuilding the paladin order. His stalwart and pure hearted devotion makes him the obvious, even if the only, choice in such an endeavor.
I'm aware golems were used in large part for farming. But I'm unaware of how to craft them. And I can't plant knowledge I don't have. There's also all the specialized work.
I've gotten by, simply by taking individuals with the knowledge already possessed, having them keep the knowledge. And reforming the rest of their minds.
It is clear that isolation is not an option should I wish to return my people to their former glory. I need to think of a ways to outsource and build diplomatic ties. I'm reluctant reach out as of now, or even in the near future due to our perceived weakness. Even then, our prospective allies leave much to be desired.
The Bosmer? Maybe. I'm reluctant to deal with the cannibalistic Mer. The Altmer failed to assist my people and from what I've learned, failed against the Atmorans so terribly they allowed them to establish an empire.
It may seem hypocritical to denounce them for failing in much the same manner as we. However, mine were assaulted with little warning and no preparation. The Altmer were given ample opportunity and resources. What's their excuse?
The Chimer, or rather Dunmer, I know too little about. So, I'll hold off judgement.
"Beset by incompetents on one end. And beasts on the other." I muse aloud. "Truly, we are given an uphill battle."
It is as I say this, that I hear the familiar wing beats of Azuraitha approaching. Turning around in time to see her finish her Falmer transformation, a bit of an annoyed look on her face that she quickly schools.
"Hmm?" I intone. "You're back sooner than expected."
"Yes, much sooner unfortunately." She sighs.
"Excuse me?" I question, confused as to her meaning.
"It is nothing my lady." She says with a bow. "Merely lamenting recent events."
I'm, unsure as to what she means. The Dov are a capricious race. So I'm uncertain as to what she may consider worth lamenting. But, I find myself not truly desiring to know. If it's important, I've full confidence she'll inform me.
"Be that as it may." I say as I step away from the ledge. "Open the wayshrine, we can transport the camp here and set up. Afterwards we will delve into Alftand and see if the way to Fal'Zhardum Din is still operational. From there, we'll scour the city."
She gives a bow, and a clear window opens in the space between us. It is a bit different from the wayshrine portals I am accustomed to. Being that the portals are thin, blue pillars of light, and you merely need think where you need to go.
This, is a hole in the air. Connecting to our hidden camp. The slither I left behind walks into view, though it's a bit paler than I last recall. With slight blue markings on its face as it looks towards me.
"I see then." I say as the slither waddles towards me, going through the portal and approaching as though normal.
"Ahn!" It croaks at my feet.
Well, I suppose this proves it works.
"Stay." I command the creature as I head through the portal to collect my people.
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-1 hour later-
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It would appear my subjects were quite efficient with their time. Having taken my orders to prepare, with a certain diligence that only leaves me proud.
I suppose this sense of pride is the reward of a good ruler. Though, I may be getting ahead of myself. I've not even twenty citizens to my regrowing kingdom.
Regardless, the hut Azuraitha spared is proving a decent storehouse for the supplies and other fallen my people captured to avoid being discovered. I now have ten more of my people to restore.
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-Alftand, Winterhold, 10th of Rain's Hand, 4E 201, 9am-
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Holding my arms out for Yearna to scrub, I thank my fortune for the small luxuries. With my camp so well prepared, we managed to set up in a matter of hours. Even build a basic hut for privacy.
I had water heated this morn and am now enjoying a nice bath as the help washes me. Azuraitha is washing my garments in the meantime.
"That should be plenty, Yearna." I say as I step out of the wooden tub and onto the furred rug. "Fetch my robe."
"As you say my lady." She says as she diligently places the snow bear robe over me.
If it weren't for the unsightly swollen red lids of their eyes. You'd never be aware they are blind.
"Much appreciated." I say as I move to sit on one of the chairs taken from the hut.
It's been properly cleaned and polished of course. No telling what manner of pestilence those depraved ilk left behind. I'd rather not.
Irregardless, I reach into my pocketed space of oblivion that seems to be attached to whatever grants me my abilities. And I pull out the intended book.
(Beginner's guide to firearm safety.)
I know not why these, guns, are referred to as firearms. And it doesn't seem as though this book will inform me. So far it is a strict informative on their proper use. Which is honestly appreciated.
Now, to understand the difference between a, shot-gun, and assault rifle.
It would seem that just as there are many forms the blade may take. So too is the gun a varied weapon of combat.
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Bonus
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-The Forgotten Vale-
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Alduin POV
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This disgusting race. They've perverted this land.
It has been so long. So much of the landscape has changed. And those, humans have perversed so much. It seems, even the elves were not safe from their corruptive touch.
It was mere moments for me. And I weep for my brethren who have been left to waste. As the influences of the mortals beset them from all ends. How long have they lied under the soil? Their souls trapped in eternal hibernation.
No longer.
As I reach the lake. I sense them. The twins in the vale. Locked away under the lake and ice. Forgotten and discarded like the Falmer who cohabited this secluded spot.
The Falmer. I've not seen hide nor hair of them. They were of the few to not rebel against us. I kept out of mortal squabbles. Only when man started to declare themselves as father's chosen did I ever intervene.
But, I fear my intervention was ill timed in their favor.
"RISE! VOSLAARUM! NAASLAARUM!" I call down. My voice echoing through the water and reaching them as I tear their souls and force them back into their bodies. "MAY YOU RETURN TO YOUR GLORY! YOUR ELDEST CALLS UPON YOU NOW!"
"Leave us." Comes a sullen, depreciated voice echoing through the ice.
'What?' I think curiously.
I land on the ice, staring down to where I know them to be.
"What manner of rebellion is this? Have you no respect towards your eldest brother!?" I demand to know.
"We have no wish to see Nirn." Naaslaarum answers. "Our chosen are gone."
No.
"Explain!" I demand.
"The Falmer, have fallen. They are no more." Voslaarum answers. "The Atmorans wiped them out not long before you left! We were gone. Looking for you. And in our absence, the Falmer were dealt a deadly blow. We have no desire to assist you brother."
"We only wish to stay, and protect their home from those that would defile it." Naaslaarum says in turn.
Their chosen. Many of us had attachments to this land. Like my foolish younger brother Paarthunax. He developed an attachment to all the mortals. He sees them as, cute. And wishes to protect them.
The twins, found a fondness for the Mer who worshipped our father and gave him his due respect.
"Are they, truly gone?" I ask.
"They have descendants, but they are no more Falmer, than Mer are Aedra." Is the answer I get.
"I understand." I say solemnly out of respect for my brother's grief. "Take care, Naaslaarum, Voslaarum. I shall attend to your company when I've rid Faloia of the mortal curs."
"Be well brother. May father be kind to you." Voslaarum says.
It is with a solemn heart that I fly away. The twins are in mourning and as such useless. Paarthunax is likely at the throat and aiding the mortals. And the Dovahkin is on the move, but to where or even whom they are, is unknown to me.
I need to be diligent and raise my brothers. Then, then we can get to work putting the mortals back in their places. Those who will not bend their knee and bow their head.
Will break.
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A/N
To be clear, nothing non consensual of the sexual manner occurred. The only non consensual acts here, were murder. Which is, better? I think?
Oh well.
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Lilyrael's current number of forces
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1 scouting party of 22 Falmer
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Mages: 3
1, Destruction specialist
2, Illusion specialists
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Archers: 9
Scouts, 3
Marksmer, 2
Woodsmer, 3
Huntsmer, 2
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Cook: 2
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Warriors: 10
4, Light warriors
3, Heavy warriors
3, Skirmishers
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Craftsmer: 4
1, Alchemist
2, Fletcher
1, Blacksmith
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Extra: 3
1, Chaurus tamer
1, porter
1, fisher
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