One shot stories Options

[Kell-Reevor]

Just a short piece I put together out of boredom. Hope you like it.

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It is dark. Two figures traverse a well trodden path out of Suran. The first is a swordsman. The second... his would-be killer.

The swordsman knows of his follower's presence. He listens attentively as the assassin follows. He is clearly untrained, and this may be his first mark. There is no rattle of quarrels or arrows. It is likely the swordsman need not fear a ranged attack.

The swordsman has made an enemy in the Nobles of Suran, and was aware that eventually they would seek his life. But he is not afraid. As a swordsman, death has followed him as a companion he has developed a deep respect for.

His trained ears pick up a sound... a soft and smooth "whif" as a dagger is pulled from a belt.

Spotting a shrine by the road, he approaches. He has no love of the Dunmer, nor has he a love for their Temple, but he is a spiritual man and pays his repects nonetheless as his killer moves in.

He moves his thumb for the guard of his sword. Years of oiling grant it silence as he nudges it from his sheath.

In a flash, he grips the weapon. Rips it from its home. Then thrusts it back, cutting into the assassin's belly. Turning, he frees the weapon with a horizontal slice, then brings the weapon up for a finishing downward cut.

The ordeal is over in a mere span of two seconds. The swordsman flips his sword to remove any blood, then returns it to it's home. He kneels in respect to the life he had just ended. If the nobleman had hired a killer even a tad more competant, the outcome would have been drastically different. If his foe had been equipped with a bow, or maybe armor, or perhaps knowledge of magick, HE would have been the one to die tonight.

He closes the dead man's eyes, mutters a short prayer... then is on his way.

This post has been edited by Kell-Reevor: Mar 2 2006, 02:01 PM

[Taillus]

Four adventurers stand in one of the many rooms that make up a Dwemer ruin far north of the Ghostfence. They stand in awe at the orange tinted metal objects that fill the shelves and chests around them. This certain ruin lies beneath the earth’s surface hidden by years of ash storms and before this point, was not even known to exist by the people of Morrowind.

The four adventurers had filled their pockets and travel bags with priceless Dwemer artifacts knowing that it would not be long before they would be able to retire from the dangerous life of ruin raiding and all could settle down to enjoy their new found wealth.

They had come into possession of everything from Dwemer weapons, close to complete sets of armor, dwemer coins, gears, and other items that could earn them vast riches even on their own. Each man loots the room and refrains from erupting into a fit of excited laughter as they quickly teeter dangerously close to over encumberance.

The self proclaimed leader rallies his men telling them of the money, estates, fine clothes, fine food and especially finer women that wait for them and they all erupt in anxious cheers as they head out of the room and eventually towards the exit of the Dwemer ruin.

One man gasps as his foot sinks in the floor beneath him. He looks to see that he had depressed a tile in the floor with his heel and the adventurers tremble as a deep rumbling can be heard from the walls beside them. Each man breaks into a full run as the walls begin to shuffle inward, attempting to flatten them.

Even though their travel packs full of loot slow them down, not one of them choose to leave anything behind and they yell in horror as the walls slide closer. The second man to the back suddenly trips and screams for help but it falls on deaf ears as they have no choice but to leave the doomed soul behind.

As the walls slowly seal together, only two men make it to the other side but are shocked to see that their exit had sealed as well. Desperate, both remaining men drop their dwemer fortune and begin caressing the walls with the small glimmer of hope that a hidden glyph is waiting to be pressed so they could make their way out.

One of the men stumble upon a spot in the wall that makes the wall blocking their exit quickly rise and he removes his hands to confirm. Both men look at each other wondering how the button can remain pushed to allow both men to escape. They begin to argue over who should be allowed to leave.

One of the two remaining people found the ruin in the first place, the other found the trigger to the door. It doesn’t take long for both of the remaining men to get upset and draw weapons. A long fight ensues and both men suffer critical damage. They both fight as their bodies threaten to buckle under the strain, pain and loss of blood.

In the end, one man stands, the sole survivor of the adventuring team. He leans his deceased comrade against the wall, letting his forehead activate the trigger and picks up his travel pack. He also takes the liberty of dragging his former friend’s share as well. As he gets partially through the exit of the ruin, he looks in horror as his fallen comrade slides across the wall. He frowns over his own greed as the sliding panel that once prevented their exit plummets down upon him, crushing him at the waist. He closes his eyes as life is ripped away from him, hoping death would take him quickly so that he would not have to think about how each man's greed was the cause of their demise.