No Elves in Sovangarde Revamped, The way it was meant to be written. Options

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Hey, y'all. something that has really slowed me down on my writing was the evolution of my writing style. The second book of NEIS was sort of gritty, and the first half lighthearted and so...very...cluttered. so, instead of going back and editing what was already written, I've decided to go ahead and put the edited version in a new thread. Kayla's back story was cluttered and undefined for a lot of the story, and I've thought long and hard about how I want this to go. Luckily samara's story is still early, and is going nearly the way I want it, so the changes there won't be huge.

Go ahead and read, if you'd like. It's the same story, just written differently and a few plot changes. Some of the chapters won't change much, but some won't look familiar at all.

First, though, I'd like to thank everyone for encouraging me who aren't here, mALX and Colonel Mustard and Black Hand namely. Then DE and King of Beasts for encouraging me to write the story to please myself instead of those on the site. And then, of course, those who have kept reading from the beginning, and SubRosa for encouraging me to be more organized in my writing (lol)

------




PROLOGUE


Dusk brought the chill of the night winds, the sky lighting up in a medley of colors; blues and greens, purples and pinks. Above the ribbons of the borealis, stars twinkled like eyes, blinking sleepily at the vision of men and mer far below them. The sun set with a silent sigh and slid away to warm other parts of Nirn.

A gangly elf maiden trembled in the thin ceremonial cottons as the wind whipped the fabric around her body roughly. She struggled to keep her auburn hair out of her face and mouth, spitting the strands out and tossing her head to and fro. She shifted the luminous sphere in her hands, careful to not drop it and anger the Daedric Prince she was appealing to.

A Dunmer woman, looking to be in her twenties, gave her a hard look.

"Don't tarry, child. Meridia may look favorably upon us mortals, but she does not have the patience for the slow-witted. Step forward."

The Almer maiden, barely out of childhood and on the cusp of womanhood, nodded to her mentor. The Khajiit male put a paw on the Dunmer's shoulder.

"Gentleness, Nedine. she is but a child."

"She is to become Champion to our Daedra! You're too lax on her, Ma'dat."

"Perhaps, but this one is not fond of the tone you speak to her with. Go on, child," he said in a gentler tone to the elven maiden. "Present yourself to Meridia. You have earned it."

The elven maiden took a step towards the shrine and looked up at the towering visage before her. Meridia was depicted as a cowled woman with her arms raised, and robe drawn up as if she had wings. The sphere in her own hands would go between the upraised palms. It shone bright with each step she took, until she was upon the statue. The sphere was warm, and glittered with an internal light the reached into her chest and warmed it with an unidentifiable desire. She longed to please this deadra, to reuninite the sphere with its owner, to bring light to the world, but...

The sphere was yanked from her hands as she held it out, and a light brightened up the nearby areas with a white hot light. She felt the light fill her, and she felt airy, weightless. She opened her eyes and saw she was hundreds of feet above the earth, nearly in the stars that twinkled around her. Her white linens floated around her, and her hair splayed out behind her as if she were submerged in water. She did not breathe in, but she did not choke, nor did she feel the need to panic. She simply was.

A sword was put into her hand, and a promise she didn't fully understand was made. To preach the gospel of a faceless daedra using a sword that, once back on Nirn, she would most likely not be able to lift on her own. She suddenly cried out and gripped the back of her neck as a searing hot pain wracked her head. And suddenly she was on the cold, hard ground of Skyrim, whimpering. she had the blade of the sword between her thighs, hugging it, the white linens stained with her own blood where her flesh clutched the sword. She was pulled upwards, by mortal hands this time, and congratulated, though she barely heard the words. Her neck still stung.

"Ma'dat," She whimpered, her hand traveling to her neck. "My neck!"

"Hold, little one," the Khajiit man said, gently moving her hair from her neck. He hissed in disapproval.

"The Lady has seen fit to mark you, as well as give you her sword. This is a great honor, little one." There was something in his narrowed eyes that the elf girl couldn't read. Pity?

"Come," he gently guided her towards the tents they had set up. "This one has something to help you sleep."

He lit the fire in the center of the tent, fit for ten people. Pallets littered the ground in a lackadaisical fashion, and furs warms her feet. Sweet, spiced wine was brought to her lips, and she hungrily drank it. Her chest still pounded from the trip, as she wasn't a fan of heights. She began to slide her legs beneath the furs of the pallet, but hissed in pain when her thighs touched, rubbing the shallow wounds aginst each other.

Ma'dat gently pulled at her ankles and placed his palms on the wounds. She felt her face flush in embarrassment. They were healed shortly, and he pulled back after patting her knee.

"This is a great honor, little one," he said, repeating what he had said earlier. "Whether you feel it is or not."

"I said I didn't want to do this," she ran her fingers through her auburn hair and pursed her lips together. Her large brown eyes met his, and he blinked lazily at her.

"It does not matter what you want. It matters what she wants." His tone was flat and unreadable.

"Why couldn't Nedine be the Champion?"

"She did not defeat the necromancer in the temple."

"It was an accident! Surely it doesn't count?"

He let out a short chuckle, devoid of any humor. "An accidental defeat is still a defeat, little one. Consider it the beginning of a long line of happy accidents."

She said nothing at this, only stifled a yawn with her hand. He ruffled her hair.

"Sleep, for in the morning, we will head back to the village, and it is a long trip. Goodnight, Nisse." He stood up end exited the tent, leaving her alone with the fire. She laid down and, despite the wine, had trouble sleeping. She fell into a fitful slumber that would plague her for the rest of her nights.