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> A Skyrim tale - Vengeance and Redemption, Eilidh MacAuley's Tale
PhonAntiPhon
post Mar 10 2014, 08:31 PM
Post #1


Mouth
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Joined: 27-August 12
From: Whiterun, central Skyrim.



HELGEN

"What's your name, Elf?"
The shouts of soldiers and the clatter of weapons echoed around the windblown courtyard. Someone's discarded linen shawl blew between the legs of the small group of guardsmen standing lazily to attention beside an old and scarred desk set up in the middle of the wide space.

Behind this desk, holding a quill pen poised over a ragged sheet of parchment, sat a hard-eyed and angular woman of maybe 50 summers, bedecked in the regalia of a captain of the guard.
She sighed, and waved the quill at a soldier standing behind the prisoner.

With a grunt of acknowledgement the soldier lifted his spear and slammed the butt end of it into the small of the captive's back.
She fell to her knees on the hard dusty ground, sucking a pained breath in through between dirty, clenched teeth.
"Your name." Demanded the captain once again.

After a moment longer, the prisoner looked up at the captain behind her desk; regarded her with large, nearly black eyes set in a gaunt face framed by lank, straw-coloured hair from which protruded the pointed tips of distinctive Elven ears.

The Elf opened her mouth and said in a low, cracked voice; "Eilidh."

The Captain regarded her a moment longer.

The Bosmer - (who, incidentally smelt... well she smelt terribly, but she also smelt like a wolf or a bear; slightly "meaty" and "musty"; sour and rotten. All her kind did, it was as distinctive as it was unwholesome; a result of their twisted diet. And yet, the Captain had to admit to herself, she found this one more than a little fascinating) - The elf's face and body betrayed no small degree of history and hardship; thin she was and yet beneath the ragged sackcloth shirt her body was nevertheless sinewy and bowstring taut, the compact muscles hard and surprisingly powerful; at least one of her men had found that out the hard way when they had attempted to capture her.

Her skin was heavily freckled, beneath a layer of greasy filth, and marked by innumerable abrasions, pocks and marks of all shapes and sizes. She was heavily tattooed with any number of vulgar designs.
But it was her face, more than anything, that told of the hardness of her life until now, it's end.

The left side of the Bosmer's face was a mass of scarring, the damaged skin pale and livid against the dirt that covered her. Dark warpaint was smeared across her cheeks and the sockets of her eyes, which were black and moist; vastly deep like some animal's and rimmed with a livid red as of an incipient infection.
The woman's mouth was set in a thin hard line, the lips bloodless.

But enough of this.
She sighed, waved the quill again and once more the butt of the spear connected with the kneeling Bosmer, hitting her shoulderblade with a crack barely muffled by the thin material that covered her.
"ALL of your name, bosmer." She said, spitting out the last word like an insult.

"MacAuley, Eilidh MacAuley." Said Eilidh finally, her dry voice heavily accented.
The captain grunted in satisfaction and carefully wrote down the name on the parchment, poking out her tongue in concentration.
When she had finished she looked up at Eilidh again, saying; "So, bosmer, have ye anything to say in ya defence, afore I pass my judgement?"
It was a pointless question, and she knew it.

Eilidh knew it too.
"Téigh gnéas féin agat soith..." She hissed through yellowed and gritted teeth.
"Speak Imperial!" Snapped the Captain. Eilidh winced as the guard behind her applied his spear to her back once again.
She glanced hatefully at the woman behind the desk and then, a cold half-smile flickering across her lips she said; "Go **** ye'sel' *****."

There was an audible gasp from the men around her at this display of blatent insolence, and for a moment even their leader looked taken aback.
The Captain gathered herself.
"Even if you were not already dead, bosmer, now you are for sure..."

Silence held sway for a moment and Eilidh, naked but for the thin cloth shivered a little in the chill air blowing through the garrison's courtyard.
She ached all over, or at least more than usual. Her brains were pounding in her ears and her mouth had a dry and phlegmy taste in it. Her condition was not helped in any way by the fact that she had not had wine for some 3 days now.
More though, was the pain of what that pig of a legionary had done to her.

Hers had been a hard life, she had had to fight every inch of the way barring a few brief patches of respite. She looked, she knew, every one of the 173 seasons that she had spent on this Gods-forsaken world.
During her time she had committed... dubious acts, both physically and morally, and yes amongst those had been the auctioning of herself, when money had been tight and survival the only factor.
But that was different, she had been in control; calling the shots she had run the game and come out the victor in those encounters.
Yesterday though, that had been something else entirely, that was evil even by her standards of behaviour. There had been a wrong visited upon her the likes of which should never happen.
Ever.

And then, out of the corner of her dark eye she saw him, standing just behind the guard Captain's entourage he was.
He was a big man, broad of girth; fat, sweaty jowls, and sallow oily skin. He was wearing a helmet and facing slightly away from her but she knew him; his stinking greasy body, his breath hot and sour against her, his little piggy eyes.
Oh, she knew him alright.
The blood in her veins ran cold as ice, her heart pounded against her ribs.

He turned then, and saw her.
His plump mouth spread open in fat grin, the thick lips pink against his pale cheeks. He pointed at her with a stubby finger whilst with his other hand he made a sign, the meaning of which was only too clear to the Bosmer.

The sound of the Captain's voice droning on - a litany of her crimes, chief amongst which was simply of having been born a Bosmer - had long since faded into the distance, to be replaced by one repeated thought:
"HE MUST PAY. HE WILL PAY."
Over and over and over, a cold and hard nugget of vengeance.

Had she been able, she would have leapt at him then and there even though her hands were bound.
Indeed, even as she thought it, her body moved of it's own accord, her mouth twisting into a snarl...

...Then hands grabbed her and lifted her roughly to her feet, through a red haze of bloody murder she vaguely heard the Captain's voice; "...for the crime of being an unwelcome element in the Imperial Province of Skyrim, for numerous

breaches of our laws, I hereby refer you for summary execution."

Her captors walked her across the courtyard to the block that sat lumpen and solid; bloodstained and chipped, in the centre of the courtyard. A mute symbol of oppression and arbitrary justice.
She passed him and their eyes met - his, mocking and leering and hers, hate-filled.
She kept her eyes on him as she was led away, maintained contact even as the tendons in her neck began to creak and ache.

Finally she faced the front, faced her future.
173 years.
He Would Pay. Even if in Death she made a pact with all of the Daedra themselves to send her back, He Would Pay.

173 years.

They forced her roughly to her knees, pushing her head onto the block.
Rage boiled within her.

173.
He Would Pay.

She sensed the headsman raise his sword.
1...
7...

The world exploded into roaring fire, and everything around her went insane.
-x-


This post has been edited by PhonAntiPhon: Mar 10 2014, 08:42 PM


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PhonAntiPhon
post Mar 11 2014, 11:11 PM
Post #2


Mouth
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Joined: 27-August 12
From: Whiterun, central Skyrim.



ESCAPE

Instinct took over.
As the firestorm erupted about her she sprang to her feet and barged into the startled headsman with a bony shoulder. Caught off balance he fell backwards in a heap as in one smooth motion she vaulted the execution block and hightailed it to the shelter of the closest piece of shelter that she could see.
Headless of the sharp stones under her bare feet, she let her long legs carry her rapidly across the open space, bound wrists held out in front of her.

The distance to the relative safety of the garrison wall was further than she had thought, her destination seeming to fade into the distance as all around her came the sounds of panic and confusion, shouted orders and the constant roaring of flames.
From off to her right she was aware of one of Helgen's watchtowers collapsing in a cloud of dust and rubble, sparks from it's burning wooden platform spreading around it like fiery snow.

Finally she reached the stone alcove in the wall that she had been making for.
Hunkering down she entered the alcove and pressed as far back into the shadows as she could get. Turning, she peered out at the scene beyond the opening and tried to take stock.

Beyond her hiding place utter confusion reigned. Everywhere there were flames, men and women ran screaming and shouting hither and yon amidst the steady rumble and crack of crumbling, flaming buildings.
"Think Eilidh!" She said to herself.
venturing out as far as she dared, all the while conscious of her near nakedness and vulnerability, she looked around until she spotted the entrance to the still standing keep, just across the way from her position.

She needed armour, weapons, and drink; food she could harvest from the corpses - (though normally she preferred her meat raw) - she was about to make a run for it, cursing her still-bound wrists, when a vast shadow blotted out the sun, already patchy from the clouds of smoke and haze from the many fires about the settlement.
There was a stench of bitumen and methane and a foul wind washed over the ground.

"Dragynne!" Her heart leapt in her chest. "A Dragynne!"
There had been no dragons for many centuries and she herself only knew of them from the old fireside tales of her youth many years ago. She spared a moment to look up as a huge shape, long neck and tail and massive ragged wings, swung round far above her. It dropped like a stone and opening its mouth washed the town with a stream of roiling liquid fire.
Eilidh threw herself into the back of the alcove as the dragon passed over once again.

The keep! She must reach the keep!
She bolted out of the alcove towards the doors of the rough brick tower opposite and was almost bowled over by a running Imperial Guard, his torso and head well alight, burning arms outstretched, he was shrieking like a monstrous tea kettle.
He fell just beyond her, his dagger popping from its sheath as he hit the ground twitching and spasming. On impulse she grabbed the dagger and resumed her flight to the keep.

By the time she had arrived she had managed to cut through the bindings on her wrists and had freed them.
Mercifully the doors were not locked and hanging off of the latch she heaved them open and tumbled inside, pushing them shut with her feet, heedless of who or what lay beyond.
Inside, the keep was relatively still and quiet, the dragon had not yet breached it and the thick walls muffled the sounds of chaos and carnage from outside..

Eilidh squatted on the floor breathing heavily. She needed to think, to plan.

++++


As she had flung herself against the door her senses, attuned as they were to His presence, had directed her eyes briefly across the the courtyard just in time to see the Fat Pig disappear with two others into the smouldering wreckage of a house near the wall.

She would venture deeper into the keep for now, wait for the attack to be over and when the dragon had passed, having marshalled herself and her thoughts, then she would see what was what...

-x-


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Posts in this topic
PhonAntiPhon   A Skyrim tale - Vengeance and Redemption   Mar 10 2014, 08:31 PM
PhonAntiPhon   RALOF Ralof picked his way through one of the tun...   Mar 13 2014, 09:23 PM
PhonAntiPhon   ++TEASER++ "For what seemed to Ralof to be a...   Mar 19 2014, 12:16 AM
Grits   Oh dear, Ralof is stuck between a dragon and a sha...   Mar 19 2014, 12:44 AM
PhonAntiPhon   We shall see... [Next installment coming shortly]   Mar 19 2014, 08:21 AM
PhonAntiPhon   ENCOUNTER For what seemed to Ralof to be an uncom...   Mar 20 2014, 11:56 PM
PhonAntiPhon   TO RIVERWOOD PART 1 - DEPARTURE Had Eilidh picke...   Mar 25 2014, 08:56 PM
PhonAntiPhon   TO RIVERWOOD PART 2 - LARELLEE As quietly as she...   Mar 28 2014, 06:05 PM
haute ecole rider   I've been reading this all along, and am likin...   Mar 30 2014, 07:39 PM
PhonAntiPhon   TO RIVERWOOD PART 3 - WOLVES She awoke with a sta...   Apr 1 2014, 05:25 PM
haute ecole rider   Larallee needs a couple of lessons in survival fro...   Apr 2 2014, 12:25 AM
PhonAntiPhon   For all her aspect, Eilidh is not without honour a...   Apr 4 2014, 02:47 PM
PhonAntiPhon   TO RIVERWOOD - PART 4 A CHANGE OF HEART/ARRIVAL A...   Apr 22 2014, 05:44 PM
PhonAntiPhon   RIVERWOOD 1 RECOVERY, LARELLEE MUSES It was maybe...   Apr 27 2014, 01:50 PM
haute ecole rider   This is a very interesting chapter where we see La...   Apr 27 2014, 08:10 PM
PhonAntiPhon   This is a very interesting chapter where we see L...   Apr 27 2014, 10:22 PM
PhonAntiPhon   New update coming soon... Larellee and Delphine ha...   Apr 30 2014, 04:23 PM
PhonAntiPhon   RIVERWOOD 2 [b][center]DELPHINE [in which Larellee...   May 7 2014, 11:51 PM
haute ecole rider   Very interesting insight into racism in the ES uni...   May 8 2014, 07:42 PM
PhonAntiPhon   Very interesting insight into racism in the ES un...   May 10 2014, 12:29 AM
PhonAntiPhon   There may be a new story coming soon...   Aug 14 2014, 10:43 AM


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