Shanna
PostPosted:Fri Mar 16, 2012 9:03 pm
Enjoy, another piece I wrote.
It was dark. Wind whispered off of her Ashlandic robe as it drift in the night; Red, Beautiful. Her pale blonde hair twisted peacefully behind her, revealing the ash colour of her skin. Her eye's; pale red, full of thought and anticipation. She stood there, gazing off into the distant marshmerrow farms, dotted with stock upon stock of rich harvest. Off to the left was the Telvanni tower of a magister currently volunteering to watch over the small farming town of Vos. He was powerful, and somewhat benevolent. In that, she pondered; How was it that I am able to see his demise, without a trace as to how or why. He has the ability, simply not the fate. The thought still in proccess, she turned slowley while effortlessly carrying herself over to the chest she stored just beneith the Hlaalu styled bookshelf. Releasing the silver latch to reveal the contents, she searched until she found a leather bound book, and a small neatly written letter. The letter read,
Shanna,
I am gone out of Vvardenfell, and your life, for good. The council remains unaware of my involvment with the tablet, and unaware of it's location. I have some parting advice, and a small gift which may or may not answer some of you're questions. This book which has been attached to this letter, and hopefully delivered to you, will be you're tool and guide. I cannot tell what it entails, only that what you seek is to be found within. Remember this; We cannot change the past. But we can let go, and reshape the future.
Silence never broken,
Fala.
Re-reading this, Shanna stood for a moment. Closing her eyes, she saw. And saw. Seeing.
*
Aryon sat in his study, closely reviewing and eying the Dwemer centurion schematics. What is it that these ancient people have that we don't? Suddenly, Aryon stood; staring intently out his oval shaped window, his head sharply tilted. Something...something is there... Almost as if someone snapped their fingers, Aryon strode over to his seer's stone, his tattered robe rising and dropping like liquid as he moved. Trying to focus, Aryon placed both his hands on the flawless blue, pillar-like crystal. Bright wisps of cyan energy coiled around him and reflected off the crystal foundation that made up his floor, and spilled into the halls of his chambers. As the sensation flooded his mind, he eagerly searched for the source of intrusion; What had so easily broken his ward and entered his conscience, seeing through his eyes? It was so easy to dispel, but contrarily harder to trace. Now full of frustration, Aryon tried hard to sort through the channels and strings of countless individuals, searching for the bane of his now paranoid conscience.
He could almost taste it. the smell of wick wheat and marshmerrow was strong, bitter. Intoxicating. He Burst violently from his concentration, smoke pluming from his palms, and raced over to his window to search for any viable suspect. Using his powers all to familiar, he looked through mental and physical. He looked. And looked. Looking.
*
Sitting cross-legged on her mystically patterned throw pillow, Shanna breathed deep. Surrounded by numerous incense and various colour crystals, she absorbed the natural energy emitting from both. By now, Aryon is most likely searching for me, trying to see through my carefully placed wards. She thought. Once he realizes the intensity of this situation, he will realize who I am. But none of that mattered just then.
Silently lifting from her ethnic pose, Shanna walked over to her chest, gathered up her things, and prepared to leave the farmhouse which she had lived in for almost a decade. Shanna walked outside the back door of her farmhouse, closed the door, and walked for five days, to the Telvanni capital of Sadrith Mora.
*
Aryon stood stiff, long fingers clenched tightly over the mossy ledge of his vegetable balcony, staring into Vos. His face, a mask of describable hatred and frustration, was twisted into a bizarre look. I will find it was the only thought that brutally coursed through the nooks and cranes of his head. Closing his eyes, Aryon allowed himself to calm and regain his footing. "All I will do is go to the council and consult them on the issue" he whispered to himself. He slowly turned his hands over to look at his palms. The extended usage of his seer's crystal had charred them.
Letting out a mixed sigh of pain and sadness, the young elf staggered over to his desk and pulled out a Mortar and Pestle. He quickly ground up Arrow root and combined it with a healing solution. Taking cloth, he drenched two pieces in the solution and wrapped them firmly around his hands, covering his palms. He grabbed a handful of spell tomes and scrolls and stuffed them into a pack. He grabbed his blade, and made for the teleportation pad. He would head to the home of the grand council-- Sadrith Mora.
*
In the moist morning air, Shanna took a deep breath. Smelling the harbor, smelling the market. Sadrith Mora was her home for a very long time. She had many safe houses, and many contacts; all of which she could call upon for a favor or two. This city, this place, the council may rule, but I own it. This is my city, she thought to herself. Passing through the smallish crowd of travelers and wandering fools, she entered the city through the full, green-ish coloured circular door that lead into the city. Walking at a rather fast pace, remaining anonymous, she made her way to a stone obelisk that stood between two rather large mushroom towers. She pressed her hand against the only piece of perfectly square stone, jutting out from the middle. Slowly but surely, a circular piece of mountain rock pushed its self out of the side of the slope, revealing a similarly circular door.
Once Shanna entered, the stone moved back into it's original position.
Inside it was small but complex. The first chamber held a flight of spiraling stairs made out of vine and branch, and a few book shelves; All cluttered with potions and scrolls, hymns and tomes. From the ceiling hung vines, intertwined with a wooden chandelier and crystals hanging from platforms decorated with rope, held by coppery chains. Shanna made her way up the stairs to a room holding a desk, another bookshelf, and on the opposite side where the door would have been on the first floor, a rectangular bed with rounded edges. Shanna placed her pack on the desk and made her way over to the bed. Silently, she resumed her ethnic meditation.
*
Aryon stood amongst the council that he had miraculously called to order; away from their every day studies, plots, and mischiefs, the many Sorcerers and Srocresses sat and listened annoyingly. The council was made up of the most powerful and feared Telvanni magisters that dwelled in Vvardenfel. Among the most powerful was Dratha. The woman sat elegantly in her throne-styled council seat, her divine looking face pressed with age and weariness. "So you call me away from my tower to tell me what; you're becoming weak? Of all the things I've had to listen to you rant on about, this has to be the most dreadfully pathetic." Dratha was one of the oldest council members, and one of the most powerful. She was also indefinitely sexist; in every way, shape and form. "Your lucky whoever this person is didn't just incinerate you. Seems to me that whoever this ignorant mage is, where ever they have come from, know you; and know this council. I too have sensed some strange feelings while in my chambers resting." One by one, all one after another, the magisters prattled with each other, discussing the odd encounters they've had with seer intrusions. Suddenly, one of the younger and more prommenant sorcerers wide-eyedly asks "Where is mistress Therana." Aryon looked away from his conversation, "Oh I didn't see it opportune to invite her; I thought she'd only delay us from discussing our current dilemma". Dratha looked at him despondently "You didn't see it opportune?" Conversation had stopped suddenly, all attention was directed at Aryon blatant stupidity. "You realize that you now have no chance of survival outside of this room. Once she finds out you didn't invite her; and you know how she is with exclusion; she will personally annihilate you.
"Therana is mentally ill," spat Aryon" You really think I'm afraid?"
It was dark. Wind whispered off of her Ashlandic robe as it drift in the night; Red, Beautiful. Her pale blonde hair twisted peacefully behind her, revealing the ash colour of her skin. Her eye's; pale red, full of thought and anticipation. She stood there, gazing off into the distant marshmerrow farms, dotted with stock upon stock of rich harvest. Off to the left was the Telvanni tower of a magister currently volunteering to watch over the small farming town of Vos. He was powerful, and somewhat benevolent. In that, she pondered; How was it that I am able to see his demise, without a trace as to how or why. He has the ability, simply not the fate. The thought still in proccess, she turned slowley while effortlessly carrying herself over to the chest she stored just beneith the Hlaalu styled bookshelf. Releasing the silver latch to reveal the contents, she searched until she found a leather bound book, and a small neatly written letter. The letter read,
Shanna,
I am gone out of Vvardenfell, and your life, for good. The council remains unaware of my involvment with the tablet, and unaware of it's location. I have some parting advice, and a small gift which may or may not answer some of you're questions. This book which has been attached to this letter, and hopefully delivered to you, will be you're tool and guide. I cannot tell what it entails, only that what you seek is to be found within. Remember this; We cannot change the past. But we can let go, and reshape the future.
Silence never broken,
Fala.
Re-reading this, Shanna stood for a moment. Closing her eyes, she saw. And saw. Seeing.
*
Aryon sat in his study, closely reviewing and eying the Dwemer centurion schematics. What is it that these ancient people have that we don't? Suddenly, Aryon stood; staring intently out his oval shaped window, his head sharply tilted. Something...something is there... Almost as if someone snapped their fingers, Aryon strode over to his seer's stone, his tattered robe rising and dropping like liquid as he moved. Trying to focus, Aryon placed both his hands on the flawless blue, pillar-like crystal. Bright wisps of cyan energy coiled around him and reflected off the crystal foundation that made up his floor, and spilled into the halls of his chambers. As the sensation flooded his mind, he eagerly searched for the source of intrusion; What had so easily broken his ward and entered his conscience, seeing through his eyes? It was so easy to dispel, but contrarily harder to trace. Now full of frustration, Aryon tried hard to sort through the channels and strings of countless individuals, searching for the bane of his now paranoid conscience.
He could almost taste it. the smell of wick wheat and marshmerrow was strong, bitter. Intoxicating. He Burst violently from his concentration, smoke pluming from his palms, and raced over to his window to search for any viable suspect. Using his powers all to familiar, he looked through mental and physical. He looked. And looked. Looking.
*
Sitting cross-legged on her mystically patterned throw pillow, Shanna breathed deep. Surrounded by numerous incense and various colour crystals, she absorbed the natural energy emitting from both. By now, Aryon is most likely searching for me, trying to see through my carefully placed wards. She thought. Once he realizes the intensity of this situation, he will realize who I am. But none of that mattered just then.
Silently lifting from her ethnic pose, Shanna walked over to her chest, gathered up her things, and prepared to leave the farmhouse which she had lived in for almost a decade. Shanna walked outside the back door of her farmhouse, closed the door, and walked for five days, to the Telvanni capital of Sadrith Mora.
*
Aryon stood stiff, long fingers clenched tightly over the mossy ledge of his vegetable balcony, staring into Vos. His face, a mask of describable hatred and frustration, was twisted into a bizarre look. I will find it was the only thought that brutally coursed through the nooks and cranes of his head. Closing his eyes, Aryon allowed himself to calm and regain his footing. "All I will do is go to the council and consult them on the issue" he whispered to himself. He slowly turned his hands over to look at his palms. The extended usage of his seer's crystal had charred them.
Letting out a mixed sigh of pain and sadness, the young elf staggered over to his desk and pulled out a Mortar and Pestle. He quickly ground up Arrow root and combined it with a healing solution. Taking cloth, he drenched two pieces in the solution and wrapped them firmly around his hands, covering his palms. He grabbed a handful of spell tomes and scrolls and stuffed them into a pack. He grabbed his blade, and made for the teleportation pad. He would head to the home of the grand council-- Sadrith Mora.
*
In the moist morning air, Shanna took a deep breath. Smelling the harbor, smelling the market. Sadrith Mora was her home for a very long time. She had many safe houses, and many contacts; all of which she could call upon for a favor or two. This city, this place, the council may rule, but I own it. This is my city, she thought to herself. Passing through the smallish crowd of travelers and wandering fools, she entered the city through the full, green-ish coloured circular door that lead into the city. Walking at a rather fast pace, remaining anonymous, she made her way to a stone obelisk that stood between two rather large mushroom towers. She pressed her hand against the only piece of perfectly square stone, jutting out from the middle. Slowly but surely, a circular piece of mountain rock pushed its self out of the side of the slope, revealing a similarly circular door.
Once Shanna entered, the stone moved back into it's original position.
Inside it was small but complex. The first chamber held a flight of spiraling stairs made out of vine and branch, and a few book shelves; All cluttered with potions and scrolls, hymns and tomes. From the ceiling hung vines, intertwined with a wooden chandelier and crystals hanging from platforms decorated with rope, held by coppery chains. Shanna made her way up the stairs to a room holding a desk, another bookshelf, and on the opposite side where the door would have been on the first floor, a rectangular bed with rounded edges. Shanna placed her pack on the desk and made her way over to the bed. Silently, she resumed her ethnic meditation.
*
Aryon stood amongst the council that he had miraculously called to order; away from their every day studies, plots, and mischiefs, the many Sorcerers and Srocresses sat and listened annoyingly. The council was made up of the most powerful and feared Telvanni magisters that dwelled in Vvardenfel. Among the most powerful was Dratha. The woman sat elegantly in her throne-styled council seat, her divine looking face pressed with age and weariness. "So you call me away from my tower to tell me what; you're becoming weak? Of all the things I've had to listen to you rant on about, this has to be the most dreadfully pathetic." Dratha was one of the oldest council members, and one of the most powerful. She was also indefinitely sexist; in every way, shape and form. "Your lucky whoever this person is didn't just incinerate you. Seems to me that whoever this ignorant mage is, where ever they have come from, know you; and know this council. I too have sensed some strange feelings while in my chambers resting." One by one, all one after another, the magisters prattled with each other, discussing the odd encounters they've had with seer intrusions. Suddenly, one of the younger and more prommenant sorcerers wide-eyedly asks "Where is mistress Therana." Aryon looked away from his conversation, "Oh I didn't see it opportune to invite her; I thought she'd only delay us from discussing our current dilemma". Dratha looked at him despondently "You didn't see it opportune?" Conversation had stopped suddenly, all attention was directed at Aryon blatant stupidity. "You realize that you now have no chance of survival outside of this room. Once she finds out you didn't invite her; and you know how she is with exclusion; she will personally annihilate you.
"Therana is mentally ill," spat Aryon" You really think I'm afraid?"
