Niamh's Adventures in Nirn..., This is a thread featuring a digest of stories about... Options

[PhonAntiPhon]

NIAMH.
But first, who is she?
Well she's a character who I have been acquainted with for a very long time, and with whom I have travelled across many worlds.

She's a Wood-Elf, in Nirn terms - of about 30. She's very much her own boss, and not a terribly pleasant individual. She is, to employ a cliche, "mad, bad, and dangerous to know". She's a hard drinking, promiscuous, authority-hating rebel with baggage enough and troubles enough to fill a volume of psychoanalysts' shelves.

She's maybe 5 feet 8 inches in height, very slender, with pale skin and long black hair and dark, chestnut eyes in deep sockets. She had a predilection for body-piercing and a bad-attitude to personal hygiene. She's a thief and an assassin and pretty much anything else that will garner her gold and a thrill.
In the Nirn universe - (Cyrodiil) - she lives principally in Bravil, but has a shack on the waterfront outside of the walls of the Imperial City, although she spends much of her time in a rather dysfunctional relationship with Jo, one of the local "courtesans", who you will not be reading about on here(!).
In Morrowind she was a loner who pretty much stumbled upon a destiny of sorts more by simply being in a certain place at a certain time than by design; whilst she arrived in Skyrim confused and somehow "altered", more feral and wild, as part of a story arc that started in Cyrodiil and ended back there amidst death and heartache.
Since then she has had a second chance, but is squandering it, reverting once again to type...

Throughout her adventures in Nirn - Morrowind, Cyrodiil, and Skyrim, her character has evolved and changed. She's taken on aspects of each of these variants to become something "other" than what she started as; more rounded, but far more complicated. The ultimate expression of that is in the world that she now inhabits - Varrius, a world created for her specifically, with it's own story arc and characters.
Anyway, that's by-the-by, for the nonce, this thread will have various stories and vignettes that I have written involving her, and the characters that she has interacted with, during the time that she has inhabited the Elder Scrolls universe.
(Only some of the stories are on here, as this is a 13-rated forum, and not everything I write is... suitable. For stories not on here, do feel free to visit Niamh's blog, in the signature.)

I hope you enjoy her stories, it's gives me a lot of pleasure to write them.

This post has been edited by PhonAntiPhon: Jan 19 2013, 04:22 PM

[mALX]

Welcome to the Fic forum! Niamh sounds interesting and fun - almost lost my monitor to a Pepsi with this little detail:

and a bad-attitude to personal hygiene

Can't wait to read about her, and I def see me visiting that blog!

[PhonAntiPhon]

[[This is the first story I ever wrote about her, both of us were finding our feet, this early on in our relationship...]

Niamh's Travels - The Wolf

Her horse was getting tired and the unwelcome attentions of a wolf a few miles back along the trail that snaked between the trees had taken their toll of it. Despite her urgings the beast was barely able to manage an irregular trot. Its hind quarters on its right hand side were gashed and bloody from an attack that had she not leapt from the saddle almost at the instant of its inception, would have had very serious consequences indeed.
With a wince as she settled her sore body more comfortably in the saddle she resigned herself to a further unscheduled stop and went over the events of barely two hours previously.

The wolf had come out of the trees to her right, launching itself from the bank behind and slightly above the rear of the horse. Some sixth sense had alerted her that something was about to happen and almost at the instant of its leap she had vaulted from the saddle.
Slightly too slow, she had felt claws rake down the back of her right arm and, subsequently unbalanced, she landed heavily on her ankle. Once on the ground and grimacing in pain, with the back of her arm stinging and hot blood starting to run down over her elbow, she had striven to focus herself. Drawing her elven blade she attempted to grab her shield off of its hook on the saddle, it proved tricky as she had to fight for it as, stumbling on her sore ankle, she competed with her terrified mount as it bucked and kicked, whinnying in fear and pain, its attacker attempting to consolidate its hold on the horse's rump.
Finally grabbing the shield she hobbled as fast as she could around the back of the horse, ducking almost to the ground as she dodged its flailing legs. Composing herself she summoned her strength and barged at the wolf with her shield, the impact shuddering through her slender body and rattling her teeth. It was a big animal and the combined weight of both it and the horse it was currently attached to made it seem like a very solid thing indeed.
She knew she couldn't hope to overcome the creature's inertia and push it off of her horse but she at least hoped to unsettle it enough so that it would leave her mount alone and focus on her, thus allowing her at least a chance of getting a blow in without hitting the other animal.
As it turned out she was unexpectedly successful and to her surprise the great shaggy beast all but lost its grip on its erstwhile prey and with a snarl of rage only partially muffled by a mouthful of horseflesh it leapt backwards and sideways onto the ground and, facing Niamh, tensed and glared at her, its eyes an evil diseased yellow, its muzzle scarlet. Across the distance between them she could detect the rank fetor of its breath as it panted and growled deep in its throat.
Her horse, sensing its opportunity, whinnied and ran back down the road the way they had come. Niamh forced herself not to notice and stared at the wolf, her muscles tensing as she slipped into a defensive crouch; her armoured feet scuffing in the dust of the trail. The two circled each other warily for a moment as if both were duellists searching for an opening.

An archer by nature, Niamh was not wholly comfortable with a blade and when she did use one - (which was not often) - she preferred surprise and daggers by and large; the elven shortsword was light though and comfortable enough for her purposes, although the light shield she complemented it with still felt cumbersome and awkward. Nevertheless she hefted it in front of her and held the sword out to the side, gripping the hilt tightly.

Her eyes narrowed as she saw the big animal tense and spring towards her, its mouth opening wide to reveal an array of sharp yellow fangs flecked with blood and flesh, spittle flew from its gums.
Bracing herself she thrust the shield in front of her and took the force and weight of the wolf upon it, gasping in pain as her damaged ankle sang a high-pitched song of protest in her brain. Her practiced moves came through for her though and she allowed herself to fall backwards, channelling the momentum of the beast, effectively guiding it over the top of her as she rolled under it. As it passed over her, with a grunt of effort she thrust her sword up and around her shield and stabbed the wolf in the flank, the blade penetrating deeply into its body with a wet smacking sound.

The wolf's snarl of rage became a yelp of pain and it pivoted in the air as it left the blade behind it to land awkwardly on its side, hitting the ground hard. Winded herself, Niamh took a deep breath and rolled over flicking herself up onto the balls of her feet, as the wolf stumbled upright and into an awkward crouch, the muscles in its injured side quivering spasmodically, and its legs trembling.
The two faced each other down once again, both panting and shaking with adrenalin. It was a warm evening in the woodlands and Niamh felt perspiration beading on her brow and between her breasts. A trickle of sweat, making its way from her shoulder blades down to the small of her back, tickled her momentarily and she twitched, the sensation strangely acute in her overly-sensitized state.

After a moment the wolf took a step forward and she readied herself once again but then she saw that evidently it was more injured than she had at first thought. Blood that had initially been only a trickle from its flank now flowed in a bright stream matting its fur; still it would not give in though and despite the increasing spasms of its limbs it took a further stumbling step towards her, it's head low, the glowing embers of its eyes filled with hate even as bloody phlegm bubbled from its mouth as it's breathing became more and more ragged. Finally after another moment and with a wheeze like a punctured bellows its legs gave way and it collapsed to the ground.

The tension in the air between them leached away and the world around her swam back into focus, the sounds of the forest re-asserting themselves in her consciousness, as the creature in front of her lay prone on the track mortally wounded.
She felt no pity, nor any sympathy. She was the victor in a fight where there could only have been one outcome and, she knew, had it been her there now lying on the ground breathing shallowly and irregularly as her lifeblood drained into the packed earth of the path then the creature that now suffered before her would have felt no more sympathy for her than she did for it. It was quite simply the way it was.
The wolf gave a final rattling exhalation and the fire went out of its eyes, its body seemed to slump in on itself and it became still.
Only then she did stand and hobbling over to it she kicked it sharply, once, balancing gingerly on her injured ankle. Flicking the shortsword round in her hand she bent and stabbed the blade quickly and efficiently into its chest, flicking it almost as rapidly back out. The speed of its movement left in its wake in the air a string of red beads that sparkled in the light of the setting sun where it broke through the dappled covering of leaves above her.
She wiped the blade on the creature's fur and sheathed it. Standing up she checked around for both any other aggressors - (there were none) - and the horse - (there was no immediate sign).
"Stupid animal." She swore under her breath.
Now that her body had calmed down the pain in her ankle and the stinging from the gash on the back of her upper arm were increasingly vying for her attention. Dropping her shield on the ground she pulled her right arm around in front of her body with her left, twisting it and simultaneously peering over her shoulder, saying a silent prayer of thanks as she did so for the fact that her armour, such as it was, offered no resistance to such awkward positioning.
The white smoothness of her skin on her triceps was shredded, but it looked in actuality relatively minor, and although the back of her arm was caked down to her hand with rapidly drying blood it didn't look like there was any other, or lasting, damage.
As soon as she had found that stupid nag she would wash the wound and dig out one of the cure disease potions she had purchased a few days ago in Bravil, just as a precaution.

Cursing her luck and wincing at the pain in her ankle, she wiped the sweat from her forehead with a grubby hand, picked up her shield, and set off half hopping and half running back down the trail in search of the horse, her quiver of arrows and her bow - appropriated from a Grummite who had no further need of it - jolting on her back...

[PhonAntiPhon]

[Another earlier tale, which sees Niamh and Vilja getting themselves into trouble whilst exploring. Pretty much anyone who is familiar with Oblivion will know who Vilja is - (thank you Emma) - the Vilja in Niamh's world is a little bit "different" from the original...]

--

DUNGEONEERING

"Ssh!" Said Vilja, looking admonishingly at Niamh, "I can't believe you're making so much noise!"
Niamh shot her an irritated glance and went back to disentangling herself from the hanging roots that depended from the low ceiling of the dank cave they had found themselves in. They'd come across this one a little way outside of Bravil, its opening covered by the familiar wooden door, rotting now and hanging slightly askew from its equally worm-eaten frame. Vilja was still recovering from her - albeit entirely self-inflicted - alchemical accident and was suffering a little in the noonday heat, so it had seemed like a good idea at the time to seek a break of sorts in the cool, moist darkness of the cave.

It turned out that the place was infested with Daedra which, whilst providing a diversion from the otherwise tedious trip southwards from the Imperial City, did nothing to improve Vilja's mood.
"I hate creature caverns." She said, pouting, her silvery eyes flashing in the gloom. "Lots of work for very little loot. And my face hurts..."
Niamh rolled her eyes and, raising them to the rough rocky roof of the entrance passageway, mouthed a small prayer to Sithis. "I'll make your face hurt in a minute sweetie." She said under her breath, however, turning to her companion she said brightly, "Look V, think of it as a little diversion from the trip, you didn't like it out there either." She gestured back to the door.
Vilja harrumphed and signalled, not without a degree of ill-humour, for Niamh to lead the way deeper into the system.

++++

The "diversion" had not proven to be a smooth one. This close to the bay the floor was puddled and in some places covered to a depth of 2 or 3 feet with cold, murky water seeping in from the Silverfish River. Niamh had received a Slaughterfish bite to her ankle which had resulted in a deal of frenzied but surreptitious thrashing about, hindered in part by Vilja's refusal to assist and constant abjurations to "Be Quiet!"
Now after several Scamps, a Daedroth and a Land Dreugh, they had finally emerged from the most recent watery tunnel and had found themselves in a root-choked cavern lit faintly by luminous fungi. Niamh could just make out a wall to their right but little else though a constant low breeze blew on their damp bodies, prickling their skin and making them shiver. It seemed to be coming from somewhere ahead of them and indeed, once Niamh had extricated herself from the clinging roots and started forward once more, she could see a darker area to their front that appeared to be the source of the airflow.
Reaching out for Vilja's hand in the dimness, she grasped it and led her companion over to the nearest wall. It was slick with moisture and lichen; she could feel tiny, and not-so-tiny, cave-dwelling creatures scurrying over her feet. From somewhere in the distance came the echoing sound of something large moving about. The sound of trickling water came from over to her left.
She lent close to Vilja who turned to look at her, her damaged eyes glittering in the lambent glow of the fungi. She said she could see just as well as before and indeed it seemed so, nevertheless Niamh couldn't help but resist a shudder at what could have happened. Vilja's mother really would throw a fit if she could see her now.
"I'm going to light a torch." She whispered. "See what's about." This close to Vilja she could smell her skin, Vilja always smelt faintly of roses, albeit somewhat masked by the more pressing odours of sweat and general dirt that both of them carried with them on the road.
"I don't know why you don't wear that helmet thing you've got." Vilja replied. Her breath was warm on Niamh's face, carrying with it the scent of almonds which under other circumstances would have been pleasantly distracting, however;
"It's made for humans." Niamh shot back testily. "It hurts my ears. You've tried it as well."
Vilja was silent for a moment.
"Ok. I'm sorry Niamh." She said quietly. "Guess I'm a bit fed up today."
"It's ok," lied Niamh, "We'll talk about it when we get out of here. We'll get to Bravil and sort out S'krivva; hole up in an inn for a couple of days and take some time. Ok?" She touched Vilja's arm lightly with the tips of her long pale fingers; chipped and cracked black varnish on the nails, Vilja's skin was cold and damp, the hairs on it standing stiffly to attention.
The glowing orbs in Vilja's face looked at her intensely for a moment, black pupils narrowed to tiny points despite the gloom.
"Ok." She whispered.
It wasn't ok and both of them knew it but that wasn't a discussion for here, now, that was something for later...
Niamh reached behind her and rummaged around in her pack, attempting not to cut herself on anything sharp. There was so much in there at the moment that she had a job to find what she was looking for. Finally grabbing hold of a torch she pulled it out and held it whilst Vilja, taking a couple of pieces of flint, struck them together against the tarry wadding at the end.
The atmosphere in the cave was close, fetid and damp and it took her several attempts before she could raise a spark and she cursed under her breath. Eventually the flints connected successfully and the wadding flared alight. Vilja turned briefly away and Niamh squinted against the sudden flickering glow, holding the torch away from her body and peering into the cavern lit now by a smoky yellow flame that though strong enough, still flared and popped fitfully in the moist air.
With Vilja tagging along behind brandishing her katana - a wicked looked double-handed affair with a black blade covered in mysterious red Akaviri runes - Niamh cautiously padded across the weed- and rubbish-strewn floor, her eyes scanning all around for signs of anything of interest or danger that came within the dancing circle of torchlight.
There was a scrabbling sound off to their right and Vilja's hand went to Niamh's shoulder, halting her.
They stopped dead in their tracks.
The noise came again, from ahead of them now. It was the sound of something large and chitinous tap-tap-tapping across the floor at the far end of the cavern, where the opening was. They waited, holding their breath.
A third time they heard it, closer now and definitely the sound of large insect-like legs. This time however it was accompanied by a scent; not unpleasant but unlike anything else on Cyrodiil. Vilja had little concept of space - the firmament above - but what little she did know led her to believe quite firmly that it must smell something like that scent.

In the darkness she moved still closer to her companion, putting her lips right up against Niamh's pointed, be-ringed ear.
"Spider Daedra..."

[mALX]

Niamh's Travels - The Wolf

Really gritty battle in this episode! Visual through your descriptions and attention to detail, it felt like being there seeing it all happen! Really well written and immersive!

[PhonAntiPhon]

Niamh's Travels - The Wolf

Really gritty battle in this episode! Visual through your descriptions and attention to detail, it felt like being there seeing it all happen! Really well written and immersive!

Thank you very much!
As soon as I've time I'm looking forward to going through the pieces by others on here, yourself included, it'll be an enjoyable - (not to mention a learning) - experience I am sure.

This post has been edited by PhonAntiPhon: Jan 19 2013, 07:13 PM

[mALX]

** Love the background given for Fiachoir's Daughter on your blog, nice concept that promises an interesting story!

[Colonel Mustard]

That was an excellent read; gritty, detailed, immersive and exciting, and I'm liking the episodic, vignette-style of these stories. Might have to check out some of the rest on this blog you mentioned; if they're anything like these then I should have some good reads on there.

Just one thing, though; it makes it way easier on the eyes if you put a double space between each paragraph, as big walls of text on a screen aren't really that comfortable to read.

Aside from that, though, excellent stuff.

[PhonAntiPhon]

Just one thing, though; it makes it way easier on the eyes if you put a double space between each paragraph, as big walls of text on a screen aren't really that comfortable to read.

I completely appreciate that.
Thing is I do use spacing, as a break, but perhaps not as much as I should do, it can be a little variable! Something I will look at.
Thank you for the feedback.

This post has been edited by PhonAntiPhon: Jan 19 2013, 07:58 PM

[King Of Beasts]

I'm really liking this story

The fight with the wolf was epic.

The cave certainly sounded like a walk in the park -rolls eyes-

I can see why Vilja wasn't enjoying the journey much. You described the cave better than the caves look in-game.

Good Job, I'm really liking this story so far. You're quite talented when it comes to describing the surroundings

[McBadgere]

Fair dues!!... ...

I'm liking Niamh...She's cool... ...

Loving the vignette style...Just gets on with stuff...*Applauds*...

Looking forward to more...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[PhonAntiPhon]

Thank you all. It's such a nice thing to have feedback from one's peer group. I purposefully joined chorrol.com for that very thing and I'm glad it's panning out that way.
I've been reading through some of the other stories on here and its so impressive, the talent there is.
Anyway, I have more, and I shall post some soon...

[Lady Saga]

YES! I am glad you have migrated here, Phon!



This post has been edited by Lady Saga: Jan 21 2013, 12:27 AM

[mALX]

Dungeoneering - First off..."Vilja! WOOOOOT!" SPEW! You have Vilja's personality so down pat here that I can hear her voice saying these things - and remember how it gets under your skin at times, but unplug her mod and try playing without her and see how lonely it is with a quieter companion, lol.

What I like about these short episodes is that you are able to display and showcase a different talent in each episode! This one you excelled in getting into the minds of your characters as you develop them for us - I am loving these episodes! Great Write!

[Acadian]

Wonderful to see you over here at chorrol, Phon, and a warm welcome as you share excerpts from the life and times of Niamh. The vignettes are indeed effective for her, as they afford glimpses but retain plenty of mystery.

Lots of easy to envision action during that tense wolf fight. Then some very nice cave atmospherics and fun bickering between N & V - that is until Miss Spider Daedra showed up. It occurs, with a smile, that these two episodes have a common theme: Be it horse or Nord, Niamh has challenges getting on with companions.

I hope you and she enjoy this delightfully cozy forum.

[PhonAntiPhon]

Wonderful to see you over here at chorrol, Phon, and a warm welcome as you share excerpts from the life and times of Niamh. The vignettes are indeed effective for her, as they afford glimpses but retain plenty of mystery.

Lots of easy to envision action during that tense wolf fight. Then some very nice cave atmospherics and fun bickering between N & V - that is until Miss Spider Daedra showed up. It occurs, with a smile, that these two episodes have a common theme: Be it horse or Nord, Niamh has challenges getting on with companions.

I hope you and she enjoy this delightfully cozy forum.

Thank you, it's nice to be here.
Yes indeed she does have some "issues" with regards to playing nice with others...!

Well, it has become more than a little apparent that I am going to have to do a little bit of editing before I can post any further stories up on here - content-wise I don't tend to write pg-13 ones, so some "content-amendment" will need to take place!

This post has been edited by PhonAntiPhon: Jan 21 2013, 11:42 PM

[PhonAntiPhon]

Well here's one from the vaults, I was playing around with pathos and wondered how a certain person's demise might play out.
Again, this is fairly early, before Niamh's character had really had much of a chance to develop.

This is "Possible Futures"

–

Niamh was dying.
There was no doubt, no possibility of error or confusion.
A fact was a fact.

She lay on the cool grass by the obelisk, curled into a tight ball, arms wrapped around her belly, eyes closed; mouth slightly open, teeth clenched.

The sounds of battle had faded into silence and all the other noises of the world had been quieted, replaced by the pulsing of her blood in her veins and the frantic beating of her heart as it pounded in her chest against her ribs. From somewhere at a distance she could not determine, she felt waves of shocking, exquisite pain. Perhaps mercifully, all her body was numb such that she could not tell where her wound was. Vaguely she recalled a Knight of Order, a flash of metal, an impact. She remembered dropping her katana and falling to the ground but little else after that.
Save for the sure knowledge that she was dying.
She lay still, and waited.

++++

So much blood…

Blinking back tears Vilja dropped her katana to the ground and cast away her buckler from off of her wrist. She ran to Niamh – a pale form against the green. She was curled tightly into a ball, arms around her stomach, legs pulled tightly into her body. The grass around her stained darkly with blood.

As Vilja came closer she could hear her panting, her breathing rapid and shallow.

Cold fear embraced Vilja’s body, raising the hairs on the back of her neck, pawing at her chest with wintry fingers.
“Niamh?” She asked, her voice shaking and thick with fright.

She knelt by her companion, the grass sticky under her knees.
“Niamh…?” She asked again, quieter now. She reached out and with trembling fingers laid them on Niamh’s arm.
Niamh’s skin was cold and damp. Usually pale to the point of whiteness it was now sallow and grey.

“Let me see, Niamh.” She said quietly, sniffing. Her eyes were cloudy with tears and she wiped them roughly with her free hand. “Show me where you’re hurt.”
Niamh did not respond; only lay curled up just so, her breath rasping in and out of her mouth.

…So much blood.

Vilja shook her head and put her hands on Niamh’s arm where it was clamped across her stomach, tried gently but firmly to pull it away.
“Please…”

++++

She thought she recognised a voice, barely heard above her pulse which like some giant forge hammer thundered in her ears.
Someone seemed to be calling a name. There was a pressure, a feeling of pushing against the numbness that cocooned her.
The voice came again, closer now it seemed.

“Niamh.” It said.
It was her name, she was Niamh. It was soft and feminine, this voice, heavily accented. Not like the harsh cries she had heard before she fell.

There was a sensation of pulling at first gentle, but then again more firmly.
The world flooded back, washing mercilessly over her.
“Please…”

++++

Oh no.

Vilja’s insistence had paid off but now if anything the situation was worse.
With a cry Niamh had come to as Vilja pulled more firmly at her arm. Her body had relaxed and unfolded. She rolled onto her back, her legs falling open; her free arm lying limp at her side.
Vilja, still holding Niamh’s other arm gazed in blank wide-eyed horror at her ruined body.

The knight’s sword had rent Niamh’s belly asunder, butchering her midriff as surely as one of the market traders in Imperial City would carve up a chop.
Where the perfect skin of Niamh’s stomach had once been was a ragged bloody gash from which her lifeblood flowed onto the grass, soaking into the uncaring earth.
The wound yawned massively, extending the full width of her belly. Her chest, groin, and thighs looked as though they had been painted darkly crimson; the freshly spilled blood sparkled harshly in the sunlight dappling through the canopy of trees above them.

Vilja was for a moment unable to move, transfixed by the destruction before her. Grasping Niamh’s hand in both of hers she squeezed her partner’s fingers.

They were cold, twig-like.

“Oh Niamh…” she gurgled, her voice was wet with tears, too full of sorrow. “Oh, my dearest one.”

It was a moment or two before she looked at Niamh’s face and when she did she saw that it was grey and glistening with an unhealthy sweaty sheen.
Niamh was watching her, her dark eyes bright now, a reflection of the pain betrayed in her face.
Vilja gazed at that face, unable to comprehend the hurt that it conveyed, unable to speak.

++++

Vilja.

Her partner swam into focus. She was not looking at her, but looking somewhere on her body; looking perhaps at the small sun which, radiating knives and razors, was burning in her stomach and lighting the edges of her vision with pure white pain.

Vilja would make it better; she would know what do…
Niamh coughed, bringing up gobbets of bloody phlegm that bubbled up out of her mouth and ran thickly down over her cheeks to the ground.
…Except she couldn’t.

Niamh knew Vilja lacked the skill, but it would not have mattered anyway.
No one could fix her, she was broken beyond repair.

Vilja’s head turned, and their eyes met.
The sunlight shone and glinted off of Vilja’s long blonde hair, tied up in its usual pony tail. The skin of her face was freckled.
Niamh had always liked Vilja’s freckles.

Vilja’s silvery eyes were pools of heartache and tears flowed in rivers down her cheeks.
Her lips moved.

++++

“…can’t fix you Sweetie.” Croaked Vilja at last. “I can’t fix you.”
She shook her head, her lips trembling. “I’m so sorry. I wish…”

Niamh took a deep breath, wincing as fresh pain flared in her guts.
“It’s ok, V.” She said, her voice little more than a whispered breath, “It’s not your fault. I think I got broke too much.”

There was a silence between them for a moment then, a deep, profound silence. Vilja could not bear to look at her partner’s face as her life melted from her, but could not turn away lest she missed the briefest flicker of hope in those deep, twinkling eyes.
Niamh fixated on Vilja’s gaze; hung onto it as a mariner, wrecked in stormy seas, would to a barrel or a plank, keeping himself afloat and taking some hope from its presence, however false the hope or doomed to failure that course of action may be.

After a few moments an understanding passed between them.
“Hold me,” Breathed Niamh.

Vilja lay down on the grass next to her companion, shuffling closer she raised Niamh’s head with one hand and slid her arm under her. Placing her head down gently, she pressed herself tightly to her, maybe hoping that the warmth and vitality of her own body would communicate itself to Niamh’s cold, dying flesh. Had Vilja been able, she would have surrendered half her remaining years for but one moment more of Niamh being alive, and unhurt.

Niamh’s hair was matted with sweat and plastered to her forehead, with a shaking hand Vilja brushed it away and, lowering her face, kissed her gently.
Niamh smiled weakly; her breathing though still ragged, had slowed now and was slowing still, Vilja could feel the thudding of Niamh’s heart in her chest.

“We had some good times. Didn’t we?” Again, a paper-thin whisper.
“The very best.” Replied Vilja, every word filmed with tears.
She drew in a shuddering breath. “You are crazy, but I Love you.”

“I Love you, too.”
There was nothing more.

There were no more words to say, nothing to be done; no thought, action, imprecation or abjuration would change anything now.
Vilja clung to Niamh then, heedless of the blood that covered her, as if holding her tightly would stop her from leaving but it was too late as, with a sigh, Niamh’s breath left her body for the final time, her heart slowed, faltered, and stopped.
She slipped away, and left Vilja all alone.

A dead weight of despair pressed down onto Vilja as Niamh’s vital spark went out. All the world and all of its pain and its sorrow beat down upon her shoulders. With a strangled sob she gathered her partner’s lifeless body into her arms, squeezed her to herself, and wept; wept for Niamh, for her, and for the life that they would now never have together.
Great wracking sobs they were, and she paused only to draw deep shaking breaths, snot and tears coated her face as she pressed it against Niamh’s neck before turning it to the heavens and wailing her anguish at them, now cursing them, now pleading with them.
But for nought, there was no response. The heavens went on their way, the stars wheeling unceasingly in their paths above Vilja, seemingly mocking her even as her world had come to a stop.

She cried until she was beyond tears, cried until it felt like there were no more tears in all of the Shivering Isles to cry but even when she had nothing left beyond gasping, breathless sobs she would not let go of Niamh, could not let go of her and so as the day wore on she knelt, holding onto her tightly, rocking her gently and whispering softly to her.
“Oh my dearest Niamh, I wish I could have saved you.”

But there was too much blood.

---

[Lady Saga]

Very detailed and at times gruesome, but an awesome read. My fave is the second 'chapter', where Niamh and Vilja were dungeoneering. I really want one of my characters in Oblivion to find some sort of partner.

Hey PhonAntiPhon. I've always wanted to ask if Niamh is inspired by somebody in your life, or somebody who was in your life?

[PhonAntiPhon]

Very detailed and at times gruesome, but an awesome read. My fave is the second 'chapter', where Niamh and Vilja were dungeoneering. I really want one of my characters in Oblivion to find some sort of partner.

Hey PhonAntiPhon. I've always wanted to ask if Niamh is inspired by somebody in your life, or somebody who was in your life?

Glad you like 'em.

Actually no, I've never met or known anyone quite like her. She has really just evolved that way. I'm not like that, my wife certainly isn't and I'm not sure I would ever really get on with her if I met her in real life!
I guess I've always been drawn to characters like her though, conceptually if not in reality. I never really set out with the notion that she would become as complex as she has, but then I never thought that much about it to start with; she has never seemed like a construct, I've just kind of hung on for the ride, if that makes sense...

[McBadgere]

Wow...Fair dues, that Possible Futures was brilliant stuff...You really did get me all sad and choked up with that one...Blimey!!... ...

It is only 4 in the morning, but still... ...

Nah, that's some brilliant writing there...Loved the way it swapped from one to the other...Fantastically done...

What I thought was most brilliant is that you made me feel all that sadness despite only having met Niamh so recently...I genuinely felt sad that she was now (possibly ) dead...

Fantastic stuff...

Oh can I also congratulate you for the use of the words "Rank Fetor" in the first story?...I can't tell you how much it impressed me... ...Mind you, looking at it now, it sounds like an amazing character name... ...

This post has been edited by McBadgere: Jan 23 2013, 05:05 AM