Exiled, A Fan-Fiction Options

[Zalphon]

Prologue

“You stand before the Council of Elders for your use of the ‘dark arts’, Nym,” the High Elder growled. “You used the arts that have been banned since Ward was founded.” She was an old Nord hag.

The people of Ward, my ‘adoptive’ family feared magic. As if it was a plague upon humanity. The worse part was, I was a Witch-Hunter. I didn’t study magic, it just came to me. My ‘father’ was the High Shaman of Ward, but he wasn’t merely like the rest of these people, he taught me the ways of a Witch-Hunter.

“Nym, you used the ‘dark arts’ against the tribals of Vulpen. The ‘dark arts’ are what caused many of the problems in Nirn… Nym, you have until dawn to leave Ward forever. If you’re seen here again, it’ll be your head.”

I sighed as I walked out. I walked into my cabin and looked at the blade made from Nordic steel. Engraved in it was, “Champion”. I grabbed the blade and shoved it into my sheathe. I picked up my leather quiver and Nordic-steel and oak bow. I donned my leather armor and opened the door.

The Nords watched me leave. I was of Dunmeri blood; they feared me, because I was different. I couldn’t blame them, but their ignorance would lead them no where. As I walked out the gates, I felt the chilled flakes of snow bite into my face. I was merely history there, nothing more than text written in the book.

Hircine’s Moon was a vicious place. The mountainous terrain made it difficult to travel. Finally I reached the valley and the snow continued into my flesh. I forced my body to continue, fighting the elements was like fighting the gods…

I saw a corpse, it was fresh. A young Nord had come here and an arrow went into his back. But what made it real interesting is, his body was cut to the bone, except for his head. “Mmmmm, dinner,” a voice whispered in my ear. I felt a dagger cut my face and as I tried to fight back I just couldn’t. I was so tired… I fell to my knees, asleep.

When I awoke, I had a collar around my neck and shackles around my wrists that held me against a wall. “You hungry?” the voice asked. “I’ve got some delicious Nord Stew and I’m more than willing to share.”

“You N’wah, you’re a cannibal. That’s so foul! That Nord was barely an adolescent and you’re eating him.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” the man sighed as he walked in. “Open your mouth and eat it.” His hands shook as he moved, almost as if they were twitching.

When I refused, he grabbed my jaw and shoved a spoonful of his crimson-liquid inside my mouth as well as a chunk of flesh. I vomited all over myself as I was trying to cast “Ondusi’s Open Door”.

“Fine, no more for you, that just means more for me. I’ll enjoy it, though.” He grinned eagerly as he shoved a spoonful of the grim stew into his mouth. “Mmmm, you want more?”

“You Fetcher, that’s a person!”

“And now he’s my dinner. Don’t worry, he’ll be keeping me full for a couple weeks, then you get to be my meals. I’ve never tried dark elf.” His hood fell back and I saw his bony face. His yellow teeth, his sunken, pallid eyes, his almost white skin, it made him look even more inhumane.

I muttered under my breath and finally I succeeded in the spell to unlock my shackles. I muttered again and my collar unlocked. However, this time he heard it. “You are trying to run away? But the muscle is so much tougher when you run first, why don’t you hold still?”

He grabbed an axe and swung at me. Luckily, I evaded it by a hair…barely. I looked around for anything I could use as a weapon. I grabbed a knife he had on the table and stabbed at him.

It connected to his left arm, but I don’t think he noticed as the axe came down into my shoulder. “May you forever suffer in the Dead Lands, you S’wit!” I cried out in anguish. I muttered under my breath and flame bit into his face, searing it and enraging him.

“You’re not going to die quickly, I’ll eat you while you live!”

He swung again, but I thrust the knife into his stomach. He looked at it as the scarlet fluid that was his blood formed a puddle at his feet. Life outside of Ward would be much different…

[Zalphon]

Chapter One: A New Life

I looked at the corpse, blood surrounded the lifeless body. That could’ve been my blood; some of it even was mine. I could’ve been that corpse. Back at Ward, I never had these kinds of fights for survival. I looked in the cauldron of stew which bubbled. “Sorry friend, I couldn’t get here fast enough,” I whispered. My curiosity forced me to open a door into another room.

A bed was there and a journal as well,

“My kin remain below the house waiting for the fresh dark elf. Unlike me, they’ve completely gone mad from the hunger. Their ravenous cravings have driven them to start eating each other. Luckily I kept them locked away beneath the house, for if they escaped, then all would be lost.

The Fallen Prince”

I muttered under my breath and flame engulfed the book. As I walked out, it spread throughout the house. This place would merely be the tomb of a family of cannibals. The snow had risen to knee-length and it bit into my flesh, even if the leather was a barrier.

The moon was high in the sky as were the stars. Tonight, the sign of “The Lord” was out, which was the one I was born under. It was rather fitting, because I was quite healthy, but I had a feeling that would change since I had left Ward.

For what felt like hours I walked. My feet were sore from all the walking and my face felt as if it were on fire from the blizzard. It had risen to waist-level. I looked at the snow and almost wept at how nice it would be for sleep, but if I slept, death would soon follow.

A small town was in sight. I sprinted towards it, hoping that I could get a bed. All would be well if I could find a bed. When I reached it, not a soul could be found. I noticed the skeletons next to houses, as if they were trying to protect their home before their death.

“They hated you at Ward,” a voice whispered in my ear. “They wanted to watch you be skinned and burned, forcing to inhale the stench of your own burnt flesh.”

I looked around me for where it was coming from. No one was around. “You were a failure in Ward, you’ll be a failure here,” another voice whispered. “The gods have forsaken you, because all you’ll ever be is a bug waiting to be crushed.”

Still no one could be seen. I gripped my sword and swung it around me, no blood turned the snow red. “You call yourself a Witch-Hunter?” yet another voice whispered. “All you are is some pathetic S’wit with a sword who knows how to light a candle.”

I looked around the village. “A necromancer,” I growled. “He has tainted these lands. His magics have corrupted the spirits of the denizens of this town.”

I saw a large home and I decided to enter. I muttered under my breath and a Dremora appeared to my side. I drew my blade and went down the stairs to the basement. “You have summoned me mortal, what is your reasoning?” the Daedroth asked.

“Silent,” I replied. I saw something strange beneath. Vials filled with various substances on tables. There was also a table with bloody tools on it. On hooks, near the walls corpses were hung with their blood dripping onto the stone-floor.

Out of the shadows appeared the monster that was guilty of these crimes. On a table in the center of the room was a victim who was unable to move. His torso was completely skinned, his right leg was amputated from the knee down and his arms were both amputated from the shoulder.

The necromancer pulled back her hood. A lich was what it was. I backed away slowly, but she barked, “I know you’re here. Come to me.” I climbed the stairs and tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t open.

She walked towards me with a sour look on her face. “A mortal dares enter the lair of Evangeline Mortalitis?”

The Dremora vanished as if it were afraid. The lich’s bony hands escaped the sleeves of her robes. “You’re an abomination,” I spit in her face as she had her face merely inches from mine. “I’ll be glad to watch you die.”

She muttered under her breath and everything went black.

When I awoke, I was still clothed, I couldn’t move. I tried to speak, but I couldn’t. “You called me an abomination, Witch-Hunter. You’ll never speak again for your insults. The reason you still live is you had the fighting spirit to try to intimidate me. Leave slayer of the unnatural.”

The spell that left me bound dissipated and I was able to get up. As I walked out of the manor, I had never felt more alone. The blizzard has stopped, making it easier for me to move through the frozen tundra.

The coldness of the air was intense, even after the snow had stopped. After several more hours of walking in the horizon, I saw a jungle. It was the first time I had ever seen so much flora in one place. I continued walking towards it, eager to finally feel the warmth of the sun.

When I reached the green grass, it felt almost divine. To feel the sun’s light against my face and not the icy winds of New Skyrim. I walked into the jungle, ready to find a new tribe to make my home.
As I walked through the dense foliage, I could tell I was being watched by the vicious creatures and tribals. “Outlander,” a voice called. “Why do you walk through the borderlands? This is the territory of the Sik’atu Tribe.”

I tried to speak, but then I noticed when no sound came out. I pointed to myself and then put my hand over my mouth. Several dark elves with spears, wearing green skins for armor pointed them at me. “Be gone,” the voice hissed. “Or else the Sik’atu will regret their foolishness.”

The speaker walked out of the darkness. A Dunmer with long, silver hair wearing old, gray robes with the hood pulled up glanced at me. The Sik’atu hunters were gone, but I had a feeling I was in danger.

“Hello, young kinsman. My name is Gulas Myneld,” he introduced himself. “Follow me, Young One…”

He started walking and I began following…