Who are we but the Earth Itself
The rain poured down terribly; the storm conjured up the mightiest of thunder shaking the very trees with each roar, the lightning provided those who dared the night with a moment of light before the darkness instantly engulfed them back into the shadows. The Reach was not a place for the faint of heart, nor was it a place one would be caught in if they were smart. The Reachmen held little mercy for those they considered enemies, at least the Frostbite Spiders were only evil due to their hunger, and not rightfully evil, at least the bears, and wolves only did what came naturally to them. Men, Mer, and the Beastfolk chose whether or not they wished to kill someone just for the sheer joy and power they felt. No, the Reachmen held little mercy for those outside of their tribes, and they used magic that was dark and twisted.
Feroxus was making his way through the rough storm after making his way through many days of arduous travel this was only one of the many obstacles that fate had decided to throw at him. His leather armor, though soaked did what it could to keep him warm, the real life saver was the fur belt that he had held after fending off a giant brown bear in Wrothgar. He soaked to the bone, his teeth wanted to chatter, his skin was freezing, and the wind whipped at his face. Regardless he pressed on, through the rugged terrain, though it was dark he could see, he had become accustomed to the night. It wasn't long though he began to notice the tell-tale signs that he was in the wrong part of Skyrim, and he would need to tread carefully.
Occasionally he could hear the loud shouts or screams of someone, other times he would see someone off in the distance that wore fewer clothes than most; though the real sign that gave it all away was the elk and deer skulls on the totem polls. Feroxus had encountered a group of Reachmen in Wrothgar; they were fighting a band of Orcs who on orders from the king needed to send supplies to a city in need, the caravan ambushed by the two dozen Reachmen. Feroxus came to the aid and slew some of the enemies but not before they released their wild magic and killed a third of the caravan. Magic was a powerful tool, Feroxus respected the limits of it and was more inclined to the magic that came from nature, what the Reachmen had shown him on that day was even magic could twist things too dark means.
Keeping himself aware of the territory he was in he pressed onward toward the East of Skyrim, towards Riften, toward the more 'civil' side of the province. Eventually, he found a road and sighed in relief when he could see that it was heading more eastward, he smiled to himself happily. Three days of grueling climbing, and walking, and hard terrain and now he would have a much easier time walking onward. Though the storm still raged, the rain had now ceased, and the wind had lessened so very much; the further he went down that road Feroxus could hear the chanting, the consistent soft tone before the sudden rise, and then it repeated.
The turning of the road brought Feroxus to a flatter landscape though not too far off was a butte adorned in old ruins, though that wasn't what caught his obsidian stare, it was the blaze that was illuminating the summit, the Reachmen had made it a home of sorts. Feroxus was more inclined to turning and getting back on the rugged road before the loud, anguished scream that came from the summit, followed by the pain scream of a woman. Willing himself into it, he ran sprinting as fast as he could drawing his bow his eyes scanned the mound for anyone he could see. Luckily there was none.
The chanting began its low words again, and Feroxus knew that he needed to be faster. Roughly climbing up the side of the mound, Feroxus was greeted with the loud sound of thunder, the icy kiss of the wind, and the wet slap of rain again. Feroxus climbed up the side of the ruin in what might have been the remains of a watchtower he saw the scene. Two men and a woman were chanting their song while a third stood at an altar intricately carved wooden stake in hand and a young woman, barely a woman was trying to tug and pull away. The figure at the platform had the head of an elk upon his head as a mask; blood smeared upon his fur and leather armor. His arms covered in blood and organic matter, this man was leading the ritual; he then began the second part of the chant with the other three in sync.
The man lifted the stake high into the air ready to slam it down into the stomach of the woman, his wicked smile and his deep voice called out to his gods and just as he was about to deal the killing blow the sudden pain in his neck stopped him. The surprised faces of his three subordinates told him all he needed to know as he stumbled back, and fell off the summit into the darkness of death. The three stunned didn't see where the arrow had come from, Feroxus fired his second and hit the man squarely in the chest, the man howled in agony and fell to his side before the other two spotted Feroxus.
Jumping down from his perch he rushed the other two drawing his curved blades he finally spoke for the first time in days.
it was almost a feral growl as he began to lash out at his opponents. Both were fast to be sure, though neither were ready for the wild spins, turns and parries he had made, Feroxus had trained hard and for many years to perfect his combat style, he flowed as fluid as water through an unobstructed stream. His metal blades were also proving to be too much for the stone and wooden style weapons they preferred. The female attacker's ax had broken at the hilt, leaving her with no chance to defend the two impaling blades, one through the neck while the other impaled her stomach. The second attacker thought he had the advantage foolishly charged in, and with a swift motion, Feroxus rolling to the side snagged the dagger the woman had sheathed on her hip and swiftly drew the blade across the man's throat causing a horrible croak before the gurgling ensured. Standing amongst the carnage he had made, and those of his enemies, he easily could see the difference in their reasons for killing, and that gave him the ability to justify why the young woman had to see what she just saw. It explained why he would delay his trip to ensure no one would endure such a horrid fate.
Posted Oct 26, 17
· Last edited Apr 15, 18
The storm picked up its symphony again, but Feroxus did not care he hadn't noticed the cut that he had received upon his side until they had gotten onto the road. He saved the young woman, now that he gauged that she was barely even two decades old; he made sure that as they moved through the night. Her name was Ayra, her hair was a sandy blonde, her eyes green as the groves of Valenwood, and her frame was petite, though the same height, which almost bugged Feroxus except for the fact that he was tall for his kind. Where do you live? He remembered asking her, she explained that they were from Cyrodiil, Bruma to be precise and they had family in Whiterun they planned on living with until they had acquired enough gold to get their own home built. One problem was the storm was impeding their progress, Feroxus had seen the shadow of more figures on the top. The Reach was a place of rough, rugged terrain, and not wanting to put her at risk, by traveling the roads, to only trade the Reachmen for bandits, at least in the rougher terrain would provide a bit of cover before reaching the open plains of Skyrim.
"Your family will rest in a better place now, knowing that you will be safe and that the killers are dispatched,"
Feroxus spoke out softly as they hiked through woodlands, though it was clear they were both tired, he wanted to ensure that both of them would have some measure of safety. With red puffy eyes and the face of sorrow and despair, she didn't say anything for a long time, until finally, the words came from her lips. "Me father used to say all Mer were wretched things, and that all Mer were wretched and wicked things, h-he-he spoke ill of yer kinsmen, Bosmer the most how ye eat yer enemies, the fallen that ye have slain."
her eyes seemed to brighten up slightly. "The terror that fell upon my heart when I saw ye down upon ye enemies, slaying them, the only thoughts I had been of ye sir, were to eat them before my very eyes, and that ye was the worst monster. But ye simply spared me and offered me food, and water, and ye are taking me to my family."
her facial expression and eyes only seemed to question him, and before she answered he cut in. "My people do dine on our enemies, that is very true, that being said not all of us partake in such things. And why spare you?You have not wronged me, had I arrived sooner I'd probably to be able to save all of those who were of your bloodline."
he frowned as he shook his head at her. "You nor your kin deserve such a fate at the hands of those who would twist Nirn into such dark things. You are young, and though the shadow of that night will haunt you, there is a chance of a better life still."
with that he marched further up into the woods, and she followed with a bit more of pep in her step.
The storm had ceased, though the clouds blotted out the sunlight still and from the looks of things, the night was fast approaching. They had marched far, and although they both were overly worried about being caught under the open night with nothing to provide them shelter the pair stumbled upon a shallow cave that would not be suitable for any beast to use as a home, it barely fit the both of them. Feroxus couldn't provide them with fire, for the wood around them was drenched, and all the dead leaves were slowly intermixing with the muck and mud. Darkness fell upon the land, and Feroxus though weary sat up, waiting for the young woman to sleep. The name will not matter, it never does, for the title will get lost much faster than the face. His eyes began to get heavy, he let them shut, and just as he did, he heard the soft rustling in the distance. He didn't move nor did he act upon it, it slowly got closer, and closer until it was just at the mouth of the cave. The soft breathing heard Feroxus could feel the darkness of the being, his hand slowly slid down to the dagger on his belt, and once he had it in hand, he pounced.
Posted Nov 1, 17
· Last edited Apr 15, 18
Regret is the feeling one gets when they do something shouldn't have done, or they realized that it was a fatal error; though it is usually the former because it makes a conscious decision. For Feroxus, however, it was the latter, as he pounced upon the figured who bore the head of an elk over his, a spiked wooden club, and a hole in his chest where a heart should have been, Feroxus instantly saw the mistake he made. As the pair tumbled down the hill, and as they fought for control, Feroxus could feel the cold quickly turning into frostbite going up his arms, his chest slowed his vision blurred. "Time to sleep little elf, time to be devoured by the Reach and her cold embrace, time to di-"
the Briarheat, stopped as he blinked a few times. His bright green eyes stuck in confusion as he stared down to see Feroxus's leg going straight through his chest cavity, at the awkward angle the Bosmer forced himself into he was knee-deep through his enemy. With the briar heart, the magical artificial heart that these Reachmen used was kicked out into the wilds. Feroxus was able to pull his leg out after a few moments of struggle as his eyes shot up the hill at the sound of the loud scream.
Two more Reachmen were dragging the girl out, the woman kicking and screaming with all of her might, she was nearly able to get away before bare club smashed her in the back of the head rendering her unconscious. Feroxus rushed up the hill toward the pair before the sudden shear pain from an arrow forced him back down the mountain, his shoulder burned and was instantly sore, though this didn't stop him from standing up to run back up the hill again. Though no arrow met him this time, not a literal projectile, a towering figure jumped over the crest of the hill down onto him, the maw and full of teeth, and the bright yellow eyes were all that Feroxus remembered before darkness swallowed him.
His dreams weren't wholly horrible, at the start they were full of pain and suffering. The Reachmen for whatever reason decided to sell him off to the Dominion, to those who were hunting him for a fallacy. That he had killed his mother and father, but the memory slowly faded, as he remembered rushing through the forest, something deep in his core willing him, drawing him near those that had betrayed him. He was stronger, faster, and his anger, rage, and pain were gone. Only the pleasure their deaths would bring were violent, and the wind in the night made the unnerving sound that awoke him.
The true sound he heard was the sound of some dozen or so men and women chanting, howling, and yelling around a bonfire, they and their hounds, no, massive wolves, white with scarlet markings, and their pups. The men and woman were chanting wildly, and happily as they celebrated some win. Feroxus' eyes drifted over to the woman, not too far away, the young girl on the altar made of stone and bone. Of Pain and fear. The beasts though tamed bared their teeth at their masters whenever they rudely bumped into them. Feroxus weak and weary noted that as the night went on, and he expected his death to be soon.
"THE REACH! THE LAND! IT PROVIDES US WITH A BIT OF SPORT!"
yelled one of the largest of the group, the chieftain or whatever figurehead they had. His loud shout stopped the party dead, and he marched toward Feroxus where one of the mages,
The 'Briar Hearts' and a woman, they both came and stood in front of their captor with their leader. The chieftain was an imposing male, long sandy blonde hair; a few long braids hung from his head, his face painted with dark blue paint, one eye, his left eye had been burned shut. His physique was imposing as was his height, he was a warrior through and through, but he was more than just brawn. The mage wore the elk head, his dark eyes stared into Feroxus' he stood just a bit smaller than his from his leader but his hands etched with runes, and the briar heart in his chest glowed with a pervert aura. The woman simply stood there, with two daggers at her hips, she was the strongest woman in the tribe, and could probably beat some of the men as well, she glanced over Feroxus with a mixture of wonder and confusion. Feroxus still had all of his leather armoring on him, just his weapons were gone he narrowed his obsidian orbs at his captors, and the chieftain grabbed Feroxus' slender face as he growled out. "The Reach has a right to you first! So we will provide to her, and if she cannot kill this conniving worm! THEN WE WILL!"
Feroxus' spit into the man's face as the crowd jeered, and the face before the woman's closed hand hit him square in the jaw, causing his vision to blur.
To the Feral Grove with him...
Posted Nov 5, 17
· Last edited Apr 15, 18
How long had he been alone in the world? How long had he had to deal with the empty void that regularly decided to thrust him into his life? Or to push him into the fray? It was a constant, unending source of agony, but it was also the type of danger he needed to be in it for the purest and primal part of him to emerge to the surface. The forest, the grove, the near-sentient thing would surely test his will to live; and so would the beasts that protected it.
Not remember the journey here, he could only remember the rhythmic chanting and the rotten smell of flesh. His dreams were a myriad of indecipherable images with blood, garbage, and limbs; his body torn asunder before suddenly erupting into life as his skin melted and peeled away before suddenly he awoke. His eyes filled with the low hanging arms of trees, and each of them tipped with dark, menacing hands, the ground smelled of the sweetly sickening smell of decaying plant matter. He had one weapon, and he left with his pants and boots; the frigid cold made the hair on his neck stand on end.
Standing up listening to the voice of the forest, more so if there were any animals, only a few birds sang, and they sang solemnly. Each tree seemed to groan in protest as the Bosmer walked past each one, he could feel the insidious magic reaching for him in the air, as the mists seemed to engulf the ground. The grove was beautiful in some ways, or at least it was, Feroxus could see that before the corruption it was a place of solace and contemplation. But no more.
The day seemed to be stuck in a perpetual morning stage or was it the mist that blotted the sun out and gave the illusion. Regardless it became apparent to Feroxus that he was not alone; the feral roar that echoed through the grove and the sudden snapping of tree branches gave way to the type of beast Feroxus would have to deal. Running through the forest to escape the horror.
Breaking through the treeline his first few steps were measured as he broke out into a meadow, his eyes taking in the scenery around him, he was inside a bowl-shaped valley covered in forest. The grass he stood in came up to his stomach, and he was out in the middle of the open field where at the far end stood an imposing figure. The massive horned bovine head varnished in black blood matted fur stared the Bosmer down; the corded muscles of the beast obscured by the leather armor it wore, the large crude ax it held made up of the natural elements, wood, and stone only added to the perversion Feroxus was to included into this habitat. The hunt had begun, and Feroxus wasn't on the firing end of the arrow.
Posted Nov 13, 17
· Last edited Apr 15, 18
Only barely missing the first headlong rush by diving to the side Feroxus followed through with the dive into a roll and was up in an instant. Running toward the treeline the loud bestial roar only set him to run faster. Fear was something Feroxus had grown to know fairly well while on the road outside of Valenwood, and into the whole of Tamerial. It had been a vague memory up until now, too bad for him the memories were being dredged up causing panic. Well this is how I die.
. Feroxus' suddenly lurched forward as he struck with a sudden sharp pain in his left shoulder. Screaming out, he rolled with the momentum and fell over only to hear the snap of what looked to be a javelin's shaft clatter against some stones and branches, the head of it still digging into him Feroxus groaned, sitting only for a few moments before the Minotaur began his surge through the bramble, and branches. Feroxus was up again, trying to avoid anything that would jar the sharp metal in his shoulder more than it had to. The pain drove his adrenaline he kept on running, and evading as the Minotaur tried to keep up; eventually, only a bellow issued out and Feroxus knew that for the moment, he had lost his pursuer.
The day waned, and the grove was not kind to the Bosmer at all as he found every bramble bush, thorn, and vine in existence. He would know nothing but pain and anguish as his hands and feet carried him through the forest, through the tight-knit trees, the ocean of bushes, and the syrupy muck. Never letting his guard down he clawed on through until he noted there was the mouth of a cave not too far off. From him, slowly he trudged his way through the knowing very well it could be his end. The cave was well lit, and for the most part seemed empty. The silence would have to sate him for he needed time to think and act, slowly he crept further into the cave, nothing aside from dirt, dust, and the smell of mold. Until a glint in the distance caught his eye, then another, and another, until slowly all eight eyes appeared from the darkness and the beast sprang forth. Feroxus barely avoided the attack as the spider jumped toward him, he rolled to the side and began to run, for this spider was alone and that would have to due. He avoided another pounce before he was pushed back against a wall. Yelling in primal fury he held back the two frontmost legs which were the only things he could grab on to preventing him from being killed by the arachnid. Slowly after getting his foot up, he launched the spider into the other side of the wall and its legs flailed as it tried to flip itself upright.
Feroxus acting quickly grabbed a large rock and began his own attack, over and over the rock slammed, the spider flailed and squealed and whined as the rock kept on striking the monster until its center mass turned into a green mushy mass. Feroxus kept screaming, the bloody mush flung and squelched and painted his arms and chest and fast until he shook his head screaming in pure fury, rage and annoyance. Sitting there he stared at the spider dead, he began to walk back further into the cave, finding its last meal, and the gear it wore. Lucky me.
. Maybe the Bosmer had a chance at surviving the grove afterall.
Posted Dec 7, 17
· Last edited Dec 7, 17
The day seemed to be an eternal monstrosity for it what was akin to a lifetime, for Feroxus it might as well have been for the sun seemed to stay forever locked in the center of the sky. The forest seemed to be as alive as Feroxus was, for it seemed every step the Bosmer took it took a breath in response, the birds' voices mixing together to be a foreboding song of what was to come next. Feroxus had never seen the corruption of nature until this day, his feet drug on through the unending forest trees were choked with deadly vines adorned with thorns, as if they were a tight sleeve over an arm, some of the vines made their own coil of pain as they formed interlocking webs over their neighboring sections. Feroxus hacked through the branches, vines, and flora as he was not to be the hunter, not the hunted.
Feroxus' ear could hear it, faint noise of hoof falls on the stone, as Feroxus remembered the visage of the bullheaded monster he only accepted that the battle would be upon him one way or another. Steeling himself he hefted the sword and began to walk toward the source of the noise. Slinking through a thicket of tightly knit trees Feroxus saw the minotaur, standing upon a boulder amongst a crag of rocks. It huffed loudly as it glanced around eagerly awaiting for its quarry, and he would have it. The beast looked upon Feroxus just as he came out into the open, sword and shield the only items he had as a defense.
"Come now! You overgrown cow!"
Feroxus flourished his blade and readied himself. The Minotaur roared its horrid yell and slid down the boulder, and began rushing toward the small foolhardy elf who clearly had a death wish. As the minotaur came rushing headlong Feroxus readied his feet, to propel him to the left; as the beast came close the elf launched himself away, rolling to the side, the minotaur only stopping short due to a tree which it skidded into and grunted before it came upon the elf again, its large war hammer swinging wildly, at Feroxus, left, right, right, high, low. Feroxus evaded many blows, though took a glance on the shield which made a very audible wooden thunk
as it connected and stunned Feroxus' arm for but a moment. The elf kept this game going, dodging learning the attacks of his enemy, knowing he needed to know how his opponent moved.
Finally, Feroxus struck, his sword now swiping low, high, right to left, and left to right. Feroxus was much more nimble and precise. his blade diving in each time the large bovine-man swung his instrument of death; though the wounds hurt it, it didn't hurt as much as the fist that caught Feroxus in the chest, sending him reeling back onto the wet soil a few feet away. Wind knocked out of him, it took everything in his body to roll out of the way as the Minotaur came rushing again to gore him with its massive horns. Feroxus heard a loud crunching crack and was more than surprised and relieved as he instantly came up to his feet unharmed; where he was now without a shield the two combatants now were in full fury. Feroxus' blade cut into the meat and thick corded arms of the beast, and the minotaurs swing of his hammer, were a contrast to the fighting style, for every five strikes Feroxus landed, the minotaurs one strike matched it, even though all of them weren't dead on hits still fatigued the Bosmer. Both of them weary though the minotaur raised his hammer high and struck fast. Feroxus' blade attempting to parry broke, and he felt his whole world jarred as his left arm went numb before shooting pain coursed through it. Feroxus on the ground silently panted before the foot of the minotaur set upon his chest heavily holding him down. The war hammer coming down Feroxus lashed out, cutting into the tendon at the back of the muscular leg of the beast, it buckled over Feroxus and landing above and behind him as it wailed out in pain. Feroxus crawled and pounced on his prey, the broken blade in a reverse grip, he began to wildly stab at the minotaur screaming with a primal fury.
Blood spattering upon his face, coating his hands and covering his pants. The beast wailed and screamed as it tried to push the wood elf off of him, but Feroxus only stabbed at the incoming appendages, severing fingers from hands, feeling from the body, The minotaur's gurgling protest only came out as a geyser of blood that coated Feroxus' arm as he left the blade into the chest of the massive beast.
"Well done, it seems that you are now, the champion of the Feral Grove."
Feroxus' face snapped to source of the voice, the chieftan that had taunted Feroxus the night before stood only a few inches away before suddenly Feroxus heard a laugh from behind him, the sharp pain in the back of his skull was followed by the ensuing darkness.
Posted Jan 31, 18
· Last edited Jan 31, 18
Champion of the Feral Grove...
this title haunted him every day he breathed, for he knew that this title only meant a few things. The first being the coming battles would be arduous and deadly; seemingly endless battles would drive his body, mind, and soul toward the ends of his sanity as he fought for survival. For every battle was a different game, a different war to be waged. A whole year of being the champion would bring up many deadly dread filled memories.
His mind recalled on his most recent battle, a flock of harpies, captured and ready for a battle, for he fought them; and fought them more like a savage. He could feel the most primal parts of his mind taking hold as his sword the one he had scavenged from the fight with the minotaur nearly twelve moons ago, the monstrous avian beings were nothing compared to his strong steel blade. The screeching wails of agony filled his ears, he could taste the blood on his lips again, and his heart pounding with anticipation. Relishing in the death of his foes, for sure, though he knew in his heart of hearts, his real enemies were only watching him for the entertainment. The dream passed as they always seemed to do, back into the darkness of his mind for a time.
The second thing his mind recalled was his mother and father; for they were the only two people in his life that had constantly hoped for their son's life would be something full of adventure, love, and everything he had spoken about as a child. Seeing the world, conquering some challenge that would attempt to batter him back. To be what all parents wanted of their child, to be happy, to live a life full and long. Feroxus, his body trembled, and as a soft cry of sorrow escaped his lips.
The never-ending darkness of the Grove, he could feel his veins being invaded by some foreign power, his skin seemed to feel as if it were slowly peeling away as his body was slowly beginning to be drug down into the dry powdery soil, he could smell it, the death, the decomposition of it all. For the Grove would have him in time one way or another. And for as long as he fought his enemies he would become a slave to it.
The darkness became less intense as his eyes shot open, the howl of the wind- no the howl of wolves woke him. The noise shook his head, and rattled his heart, for he hadn't heard a wolf howl in many moons. But he knew instantly something was wrong, he knew in his heart that this noise wasn't normal. Feroxus stood up, in the cave he had made his home, the one he had found his blade in he was alive and well, for now. Grabbing whatever garb he had made over the months, from what he could fashion together, he set out from the cave.
The fires up the mountain were faint and he knew he had always known that the Reachman clan would eventually kill him, or he would so something suicidal such as walk into the camp of the Reachmen. But here he was, and he could hear the screams and shouts as the howls came on again ringing his ears. Feroxus rushed up the through the path toward where the Reachmen had called home. As Feroxus trudge closer and closer he could hear the screams of the men and women dying against the wolves. As Feroxus drew closer, the silence was all that remained, and he stood there for but a moment before rushing onward.
As he entered the encampment he was greeted by the sight of carnage and death, most of the tents were in tatters, fires burned freely and it was mostly silent. Feroxus' eyes wide in terror drank it all in, and he began to see the true nature of what had happened. Men, women, and children were strewn about but not simply torn apart by teeth and claws. No, for wolves drug their prey away, and would devour it; the bodies were thrown, and left about, as Feroxus scanned over the bodies as he got closer to the center of the carnage, he saw the true nature of the attack.
There were three, maybe four werewolves in the center of the tribe's camp, one white, one russet, another stormy grey, and the last one almost sand colored. Though they had murdered all of their enemies, they too were slain, vivisected, burned to a singed, impale by many silver weapons, and the had died from being decapitated. All four of the beasts had come into the camp and began the slaughter, killing wildly, and doing it efficiently clearly. The Reachmen were nearly two hundred in number, with a stealthy attack as the werewolves were it was no surprise that they killed as many as they did before coming to the fall. Feroxus, he sighed in relief, for he, he would be free now. He knew that more Reachmen were bond to come. So he decided that he would gather what he could and leave.
He found various items, a well-crafted bow, used by the huntsmen, food, and even some wine, he was able to find a set of leather armor that fit him well enough, but the most interesting thing did not only do he find his two swords, he found the chief of the tribe dead in his tent. He hadn't been overly clawed or hurt, not it was a clean bite to the throat. Though the werewolves outside seemed to have been all killed and it dawned on him that this body was colder than the others. The shadow to his right was shifting, slowly rising before the soft primal growl slowly issued out, Feroxus' eyes looked toward the shadow of the tent as saw that there was the figure now moving toward the tent a loud primal roar came out of it as it catapulted through the tent's side.
The two tumbled, Feroxus and this last werewolf, looking more akin to a wolf than his or her brethren, the dark grey and light grey fur having a distinct cut-off. Feroxus was lucky one of the blades impale the beast at an odd angle not hitting a vital spot, but his blade was stuck in between two ribs, lodged in so that the monster couldn't bite any vital areas, but it also meant that Feroxus was pinned beneath the thing. Screaming out he tried kicking the beast up and away from him to no avail, both were deadlocked, trying to get the upper hand before the werewolf pushed itself away taking the sister blade away from Feroxus' other twin. Feroxus scrambled away and readied himself with the curved blade in hand. Prowling the werewolf circled Feroxus, and Feroxus followed its movements before he decided to take the initiative. Rushing the beast the werewolf evaded the attack clawing Feroxus hard on the back, sundering through his back left shoulder guard into the flesh. As Feroxus turned, the werewolf was making its advance. The agile mer rolled into the attack, throwing all of his weight into the hilt of his blade, there was a loud awkward snap and the werewolf made a pained yelp. It grabbed at Feroxus, though wounded it gave him another deep cut into his chest with its claws as it tried to bite him. The blade lodged had been kicked hard enough to the point where it lodged deep into the werewolf inward toward the spine and clearly how the beast was standing gave it away. Feroxus' hands held onto the maw as he tried to wiggle out of the deadly grip, the teeth, had sunk in just as Feroxus' lower leg forced the blade to shift enough to sever the spinal cord.
Both of them fell, the werewolf on top of Feroxus, and although he could have easily slipped out, he too fell into the darkness after his head hit a rock rather hard.
Posted Feb 3, 18
· Last edited Feb 19, 18
Of course, it was as such, for the night was the only solitude from the pain, the light, the noises, always burning into the back of the mind. The stresses of the everyday tedium. One uses the night is to reflect, for the day is a mask as much as the night is, for during the day a person would place the mask to the world, the one for their career, as well as loved ones, even from oneself. But the night is where one's truest nature could come out very easily. For many, it is their solace and the warm blanket that holds them as they sleep during the day.
The night was cold, somber, and empty; it was everything Feroxus had been very used to for a hunting trip. Adorned in his fur-lined leather armor, with a few metal plates on his shoulders, shins, and over his chest, though not much protection, it was not meant to be used in an extensive combat. It protected him enough from the elements, and from the animals, which he would be hunting elk thing night. Though for most it was hard to see, Feroxus knew that this night the moon would help light the way, and he could easily blend into the forest if need be. But for Feroxus and other seasoned hunters, things would go well, one way or another.
The woods swayed in the night, the rustling, the wind howling, and his soft breathing was all that gave him company. Feroxus found the tracks, and he followed them, the elk was a large one, a male, and Feroxus knew this beast would be a great kill. His blood warming with excitement as he began to hear the heavy huffs and grunts off in the distance. Feroxus also noted that the moon's bright face shown down upon him and though most nights it was a warming thing to the woods being illuminated in such a light, this night it seemed to make Feroxus feel a slight sense of apprehension. His obsidian gaze took a look around, only to be greeted with the exacted thing he was always used to, nothing just the darkness of the night.
There is no monster in the darkness, for this night you are the monster.
Feroxus smiled to himself as this thought seemed to pass through his whole body. He was calm once again and began to set his pace much faster than he originally had. He felt the surge of excitement bursting forth. This elk meat was to be sweet. succulent, tender, juicy, and everything that Feroxus would need for the coming days to make his meals. Notching an arrow his legs pumped and propelled him faster, the dark night illuminating even brighter as he could hear the hooves clattering off of the stone and dirt.
Feroxus then heard nothing, saw little, and felt only the coldness, warm rain. How odd for when the moon was just out, and shining for all of this to occur, but in the distance, illuminated by a wide beam of moonlight did Feroxus see his quarry. Drawing back the arrow, he saw the magnificent beast turn its head to look upon him, and in that moment as the arrow flew, and the eyes locked upon one another. Feroxus knew the trap for what it was worth. The moon revealed itself once again, and the elk's neck was impaled by the arrow. But on up on a stone throne sat a figure with the head of a wolf, cowled in what was a deer's pelt, he held a spear in one hand and the heads of various beasts, each of them dripping with gore and ichor. The figures bright yellow eyes regarded Feroxus for a time before its massive hands shot down into the earth and seemed to meld with the earth itself, the man thing became one with nature and nature became one with him. The rain picked up, and Feroxus could finally see the rain for what it was. Blood dropped down upon him like a hot rain, the Bosmer's eyes searched upwards to see the corpses of men, mer, beastfolk, beasts, and monsters alike, hung from the branches, either by rope or impaled.
The figure only seemed to shudder before the stone hide it had encased itself in before the stones cracked and began to bleed a dark ichor before the dark eldritch voice chanted."Ata maiyun! Adonai Lovac! Hautalle Kynden!"
The dark ichor burst through the stone skin and out came the slimed covered visages of wolves and wolfmen as they came rushing down upon Feroxus. The eyes solidified, as the shapes, turning the goo forms into furred monstrosities. The scream of agony he made as one of the beasts clawed into his hip, he began to run as the word kept burning into the back of his mind. Loria....loria....loria....
The word was chanted in the back of his mind as he ran, his skin burning with agony as his bloody wound seemed to seep dark fluids, the wolves and werewolves right on his heels, occasionally one would get a bite, or a claw again and again. Feroxus felt nothing but dread and pain as he was finally pounced upon by a pair before being buried in the mass of wolves and lycanthropes. His skin and bones were nothing to his hunters, devoured he watched them feast upon his innards, and flesh as if they were only children enjoying a nice sweet treat. He felt his hand his left one slowly reaching down for his hunting knife, he had found it. His mind racing as he raised it up to his throat shakily, his eyes not only wet from the blood but tears as he whimpered in pain, agony, and fear. What is to happen to me? Mother...Father...? Will you greet me there after all the darkness?
The blade plunged deep, he felt his lifeblood spurt onto his hand, he heard the wet soft pop as his aorta was eviscerated. Then darkness took him.
Champion of the Grove.....
Child of the Hunt.....
The Sundered Star....
Wearily Feroxus blinked his eyes, he could feel the pain surging through his whole body, a constant throbbing that seemed to always end in his head. He felt the hilts of his swords digging into either side of his ribcage. As his eyes began to regain focus, his eyes were met with an open maw, that shallowly emitted horrid smelling breath, he could feel it now, the breathing of this beast as its massive chest pressed down against Feroxus'. His hands felt crusted, but slightly moist in some areas, as he shifted a bit in order to get leverage. The werewolf that buried Feroxus wailed in agony as the Bosmer continued to move before suddenly it was slowly pushed off as both feet found their way beneath its body. The werewolf couldn't move, much only its fingers, seemed to twitch, and as Feroxus finally quickly extended his feet the werewolf made a sharp yelp before thudding on the ground next to the Bosmer. Blood seeped from its mouth now, as its now dull yellow eyes stared at him. Both of the Bosmer's blades had not only impaled the beast's spine, but one had burned it clean through, the legs were limp and lifeless, while the arms were beyond weak and the werewolf had lost more blood than it could have replaced. Finally, the wolf growled out actual words, the only sign of the mortal nature that rested inside of it.
"The Great Huntsman came in the dark, while you dreamt, and bless you, for my bite was to kill you and make you into a meal.
But the Huntsman came, not only did he chide me, belittle my pack, and leave me to die on your cursed blades that burn and freeze. He blessed you with life, and the Gift."
the werewolf gurgled out his last words with a dark foreboding laugh. "The sweet irony of the hunt, young pup, the irony knowing you have become what you most fear. A savage monster....."
it was with those last words the wolfish voice had died away, and the body of the werewolf went still. Feroxus stood there, dead silent, his blood running so cold that the only heat he felt came from his thigh. The gnawing sensation that not only reflected his need to scratch it, but also the intentions of the words that heard crawl out of the depths of his mind.
Let....me.....out.....and together we will have so much fun.
This voice made Feroxus grow colder, and the new morning sun so much dimmer, as he began to make his exit from the Feral Grove.
Posted Feb 8, 18
· Last edited Feb 8, 18
(Shout out to BasterdKoji
this roleplay was pretty intricate and I loved every minute of it.)
A Decade Later
Many people needed to make a living, Feroxus would forever endure the fact that he was infected, no, gifted with the bite of Hircine. Though for many days he wanted to curse and commit sacrilege toward his deity, he didn't. For he had learned to come to terms with it; not like he had a choice, for Lycanthropy had been described in a variety of ways. Some claimed that they were overly fueled by bloodlust and hunger, wanting to kill anything and everything. Others claimed to simply black out, only remembering the part of them waking up covered in gore or spooning a beast.
Feroxus and very few others developed, something else, for Feroxus it was a break and strain in who he was. For he was a very strong-willed person, and the fight for his mind had fragmented him. The fragment being that he would slowly devolve and enter a state where he tore his skin asunder, the voice in the back of his mind came with a lupine visage attacked to it, the wolf in the shadows that always seemed to haunt him, as he lived a normal life. This beast grew muscular arms, its paws growing into hands with dark claws at the ends, the maw and face growing more vicious, ferocious, a true beast of nature the frame grew larger and stood over seven feet tall. Feroxus had no control over, he knew that once he saw this thing that he was no longer in control, and he could only converse with the thing as it went on the murderous sprees it did.
But after time he grew to understand that, he could easily coax this thing into submission, for if Feroxus was to die, so would this other part of him, Feroxus would let it hunt and kill men and women, but only if they themselves were evil. Reachmen, the Cult of the Worm, bandits, assassins, monsters. Anything that posed a threat to living he pointed this thing at, for if it killed the innocent, and Feroxus would find out one way or another. Though the idea of hunting with the Huntsman wanted to make the wolf go to the grove, he also wished to taste all the interesting flavors, experience all of Nirn before dying, and even so the conversations with his vessel, seemed to always have interesting connotations, always something profound, from either Feroxus or the wolf.
Ten years of conversations, and ten years of sharing thoughts. Ten years of making his life trying to forget the Feral Grove, yet it never went away. Not only did Feroxus want to get away from Skyrim, he wished to travel and trade his goods with others, for he had heard tales of a tribe of Ashlanders known as the Junasa that frequently traded along the northern Isle of Vvardenfell. Feroxus also heard the locals in Windhelm speaking about a merchant ship heading out toward the next meeting place of the Junasa's fleet of fishing vessels would gather. Feroxus after purchasing a few permits, which of course meant he had to have one for trading under the name of Windhelm, another for trading with other provinces in the Ebonheart Pact, and another permit to show he was allowed passage and allowed to trade in Morrowind. Though it would be worth it in the long run.
Upon landing, the ship was near a small port where many of the Junasa ships had made port, though nothing as grand as the port of Windhelm. Regardless they all disembarked and began unloading their foreign goods and began to set up the stalls not too far away from the stalls of the Junasa tribe, slowly people from each side began to pass one another for the stalls across the way. Trade began to flow and things were about to change; of course, each side had no real love for one another, the merchants thought the Ashlanders were savages, rogues, and nothing above ashrats, vermin in the dirt; the Junasa had no love for these foreigners were nothing but scum, they were not of the Velothi, therefore they had no rights to the land, nor did they have no right to set eyes upon the beauty of Vvardenfell. But of course, gold speaks in many languages, and both wanted luxuries, tools, and various things. Feroxus was the only real leather worker, meaning he was the best the crew had, there was a bit of competition, but when it came to tanning and ensuring every bit of the animal was used Bosmer wasted very little.
Feroxus saw the eight or so Ashlanders carving into the large sea serpent, one of them, in particular, was growling and complaining as Feroxus approached, the mer was reprimanded by his kindred. Feroxus smiled a bit noting that the blood had been drained as they began to cut sections of meat and put them in well-woven baskets. "A lovely catch!" he proclaimed, "What is the catch of the day? Some guar? Kwama? Netch? Maybe some Cliffstriders?" all of the Ashlanders gave Feroxus a look of indifference. the larger one that was still seething annoyed by it all motioned to the corpse. “You’ve eyes, don’t you, N’chow? What does this look like to you, hm?” they began to peel back more of the hide opening the beast even further, some of the Ashlanders worked on making sure the skin had been harvest perfectly with deft hands. "Honestly looks like a bit of fun!" he chirped out in his happy tone once again before tilting his head a bit. "Don't get many massive serpentine monstrosities in the north...but..they looked delectable. I'm sure the skins come in handy!" he nodded his head emphatically as the blades of the Ashlanders carved deeper into the sections of the serpent rendering the flesh off from the beast. "Anyone here interested in some goods from Skyrim? I have items to trade and honestly wouldn't mind either making a fair trade later on or letting you peruse my stock. I'm here to trade with those of the Junasa fellows, so hopefully, things will can out for sure."
"It is the Ashlands F'lah Hot, dry, and sometimes humid. Perfect for cold-blooded specimen,” the large mer moved a woven basket away before returning with an empty one and going back to work. “We have some of those, but most of our goods come from the sea; hollowed out kwama shells, proper kwama eggs, and meat. We herd some guar, and aliit. But most of our talents lie within the ocean, Azura’s gaze is over us, whenever we traverse her seas. It’s why other tribes, or our heretical kin favor trade with us.”Some of the Ashlanders peered and scanned over Feroxus with bewildered eyes before the larger mer chuckled in disbelief. “...Skyrim? What is a Wood Mer such as yourself doing there? Is that where you’re from." He muttered something in his common tongue as if a bit of a joke was made, a few of the other Ashlanders laughed before the large mer spoke. "If you are wanting to make trade, I’d suggest you go to one of our stalls, and barter there. We’re merely here doing the labor, F’lah.”
Feroxus' eyes observed the brash and outspoken young mer. Feroxus' smirk stayed painted on his lips. "Ah lady of the Night Azrua, she seems to always be watching over me on the cold nights of hunting. She must be quite the sailor if she has kept you and your kin afloat for so long."
"I live where it best suits me. Currently, it is Skyrim, where the hunt seems to be never-ending." He shrugged not noticing his comment about Azura had bothered the young man quite a bit and it didn't help as Feroxus continued "Stalls...right I might check those out in the next moment....what is stuck if your throat? You sound as if you are about to cough up something. 'F'lah." He muttered before laughing. "Strange folk you are..." Feroxus had finally caught the reaction of the catalyst that he caused with his words as the large mer approached, standing at 6'3, mostly muscle, his head half shaven leaving a relaxed plume danging toward one side. The Ashlander was imposing and his piercing red stare met Feroxus'; one his kindred tried pulling him back. "Seheris, he isn't worth it!" clearly the man was wrong as the skinning knife that this Ashlander, Seheris, had in hand is gestured toward Feroxus with the tip.
“You belittle our Matron, and then you belittle our kin. Then you try to insult me? Are you here to trade, N’wah, or antagonize us? Nothing’s stuck in my throat but in yours? You may just find a blade lodged in the pink, soft flesh of your windpipe – if you belittle us again, Fetcher.” Bewildered, Feroxus tiled his head at the younger mer, "Belittling?" though undeterred by Seheris' threat but more utterly confused. "If one worshipper of Azura cannot speak to another without blades drawn then clearly it is a sad day." he motioned to the weapon the younger mer brandished. "You plan to kill me? For a few words? Would your kinsmen, any of them appreciate the reputation that would bring?" Feroxus put a hand on the hilt of his blade, not knowing whether or not it would come to blows. "If I offended you, or your kinsmen, it was not my intent, but I come here on good terms, and have not come to belittle, or call you lesser beings. I find your people to be an interesting sort." Preparing for a fight though not wanting to actually do so, he continued to speak. More of a stalling tactic than anything he let his words continue. "And your name young one?" he asked before he responded. "I am Feroxus of the Sundered Star." the name though long, he said every syllable nice and even as he waited to spring back away from the first bit of danger.
“It’s already a sad day with having to mingle with the presence of Outlanders, and then our heretical cousins,” Seheris scoffed at Feroxus peering down at him, the anger and rage building inside of the mer as he gritted his teeth. It was the very sudden intervention of one of the Ashlanders that split the pair away a few more feet. “Seheris! Stop it!” He slapped a palm on Seheris' shoulder, and trying to urge him back to his senses. “He’s right, you know. To kill him over a few words is stupid, and would compromise our tribe’s reputation. Do you want to put the entirety of our well being at stake, because of your measly pride?” The glowing red eyes that were transfixed on Feroxus seemed to dim slightly, though the glower and the sharp inhale before the heavy release allowed for Seheris to speak again. "Fine." he turned and began to walk off. "If I had it my way, Fetcher – I would. You best leave this vicinity, or be on your way.”
Seheris turned about with his back facing the Bosmer, obviously bearing no respect for the poor Bosmer, as he returns to the carcass of the serpent. The other Ashlander meanwhile peered toward the Bosmer, “He’s also right, F’lah. You should leave here; at least mingle with the stalls. But not here, I do apologize on Seheris’ behalf, though. Best to not further stir the tension.”
Feroxus was used to the insults and the game of pride, but he hadn't seen such first hand in such a long time, as the third party explained Feroxus should be on his way, he laughed. "Always an interesting bunch." he more muttered to himself than anyone, but he wasn't going to let this go. "If you think you can best me young mer, then I will offer you the chance in a place of your choosing later on this day." his tone was beyond serious. "If you honestly think, you can slay me, and if you think that your pride will be sated by the shed of my life force than by all means. I am sure your mother and father, whoever they may be, will just love to know the fact that their little pup picked at a beast without even knowing what kind of beast it is." He motioned to the massive serpents. "For all beasts in one-way shape or form balance out Nirn." he chuckled softly. "I think your folly is within you, and I offer this contest, as a way to show you, the most inner cracks in your foundation. Seheris...yes? Later this day, do you want blood drawn?"
Seheris halted in his tracks, his fellow Ashlander that intervened grits his teeth, “Wood Mer, please! He told you to leave, and I’m telling you to leave! This isn’t the place, nor time – you’ve even admitted it yourself!” Now her annoyance of the wood mer was shown as the brazen the young male mer turned. “Proclamations of you being a beast, and that I’m a mere pup, or is that some poor attempt at metaphors?” Seheris glances over his shoulder at the Bosmer, bearing daggers within his crimson hues. “You’re a fool in your own right to try, and antagonize a son of the Junasa, N’chow.” Seheris scoffed in his direction once more, before he trudged back to size up the Bosmer once more. "If you beckon it, Fetcher. Then I’ll gladly deliver. We’ll meet at the Velothi ruin that’s not too far from here; west. It’s but a mere gaze from here, we’ll meet at dusk.” The adrenaline pumped within the young mer's veins, as he glowered at Feroxus.
"Good I'll see you there!" Feroxus' grin could not be contained, for he knew that Seheris no matter how hard he tried to slash and cut to kill Feroxus, he could not do it very easily, turning his gaze toward the other mer Feroxus shrugged. "I try to follow the conviction behind my words, but at times, some events need to come to pass." As Feroxus made his steps, he would get a few yards away before he heard the voice of Seheris call out.“Make prayers to whatever Gods that you worship, Wood Mer. It may be your last, and remember that you brought this upon yourself.
Feroxus said not another word, as he would wait until dusk to head toward the ruins he could see a few miles off in the distance toward the west. He had set up his tent stall where he would sell his wares. The Junasa were an interesting bunch, they were hardy unafraid of a fight, but in some aspects, they had a very strong family bond with one another. The elegance of mer forged with the strong rugged bond of primal warriors, they had a temper like the massive mountain of their homeland, yet they could be as calm as the ocean unaffected by a storm. Feroxus made a profit and gained interesting items in trade. The women were enthralled with the soft furs of the hares, the vulpine beasts, and even the dark rubies, and amethysts he had gathered. Feroxus gained a few pouches of heavy gold for the gems, but he traded for the furs, which he would receive the intricate hunting tools, interesting effigies, and or stones that were meant to be from the heart of the mountain. The men would pay gold, or trade animal parts for the furs or antlers and various types of animal teeth that Feroxus had collected. Overall the encounters were civil but the tension was in the air, much like the lingering smell of decay.
The sun was setting, and many of the people were closing shop, Feroxus' packed his tent and items up and carried them back to the ship before he gathered his weapons. Vandris and Voradis, the twin blades that complemented one another in combat, both of them shaped like fangs of a beast. He also brought along his hunting knife and his hunting bow with his quiver of arrows. Feroxus had worn hunting armor that he had used from his younger days and he was just fine with that, he wouldn't ruin his best hunting armor for this combat. He set out on the beach, though it was likely many people saw the Bosmer walking if they did they said nothing. The ruins were beautiful things, for they were of another lifetime for one person could only imagine that they were made for. Feroxus closed upon the ruins, and saw his old life from decades ago now gone, he hadn't thought about it in a while but as he neared this place he knew that this would be a memorable night for both combatants.
Feroxus arrived greeted by seeing Seheris with a battleax in one hand and a wavey sword in the other. Both of them locked eyes with one another, and Feroxus refused to draw his blades, for he would see if he could reach through to the young male. "Clearly you think I am...an enemy of sorts...which in all honesty I find rather odd...." He said with a bit of introspection of his face in the form of a furrowed brow. Though he seemed to be in relaxed posed Feroxus' legs clearly were ready to shift if need be. He was also ready to retaliate if need be, but he would not attempt to kill this one. Beat him badly if need be, but not kill. "So you wish to prove yourself? You wish to end my life?" He waited for the first move, he was ready but he finished to say. "For all your call and bluster you act as a child does."
“You beckoned this, didn’t you? You’re the one that urged this on – went about antagonizing me. Belittle me, my tribe, or my Gods. Then you are the enemy, N’chow! Don’t call me the child, when you’ve brought this upon yourself!” Seheris scowled as he gestured with his blade.
The Red Mountain lies there, both of them feeling the light touch of the continuous ashen flakes that rain down. Seheris' hand caught a few of the grey flakes. “...Binthid de alri busad, amer’kon edur enhigher!” the young Ashlander bellowed out, which Feroxus now learned to be ‘Children of the mountain, strength is within’. With his sword and ax in hand, Seheris whirled them in a sheer motion, the scars upon him were his flesh, as he charged. Dust was forced into the air, as he closed the gap and lunged at Feroxus both feet aimed to kick him down hard on the face. Feroxus was hit instead in the shoulder, he twisted hard and rolled away before standing up he gritted his teeth as Seheris landed softly on the ash-ridden dirt, he was back up in an instant. "A trader, a decent one, I don't come to trade and then pick fights. I came here not only to share in wealth and bartering, I came here to share culture," he grunted as he shook himself of the pain. "clearly you wanted a fight regardless of how I came about, friendly or not." Now a few feet away, his head and a majority of his ensemble was caked in ash. Gritted his teeth before he let out a soft laugh. "I am only giving you what you want, you want to try and kill me, go ahead by all means." his face now twisting into something a little more savage, as he bared his teeth revealing a set of double canines. "But I promise you my death will not be at your hands." Feroxus readied himself again as he muttered softly. "Huntsman guides me, Shadow watch me." he drew his other blade and began to circle the Ashlander rather quickly, using his agile body to move around him waiting for the young mer to strike again.
Seheris scoffed as he. “A decent trader? I think you’re rather shit at it. I walked away, and then you decided to further antagonize me, thus questioning my worth. But it makes no difference, one less n’wah in our homeland is all the better.” Teeth bared as the sheer glower worn upon the young mer’s he had the eyes of a rabid animal. Young, brash, and full of energy, and he was indeed using it. After a quick recuperation, and fuelled by his inner drive Seheris lept toward Feroxus, his ax bearing down upon him, but his other weapon ready to parry. Feroxus was faster, and prepared, he dove to the side avoiding the attack luckily. He wouldn't kill the man, but he would teach him a hard lesson. Feroxus' blades came in smacking at the mer hard, leaving small cuts on his shoulders and body. "Your problem is you don't think enough." Though Feroxus had gotten in some good hits causing pain to come out in the form of growls and grunts, when Feroxus went to slap Seheris on the temple with the flat side of his blade he was blocked by the larger man's blade, and as quick as the block came so did the ax. The weapon grazed the Bosmer's right forearm as he ducked, causing him to drop the blade known as Voradis. Feroxus jumped back quickly and avoided the attacks as he could, he would begin to incorporate punches and kicks into his non-lethal sword place, a fist had connected hard in Seheris' jaw, it wasn't until a quick succession of rapid kicks that Feroxus landed on the mer's muscular shoulders, though the last one was caught, and Feroxus was tossed hard. He tumbled hard, on the ashen dirt he groaned in pain but it was quickly overridden as Seheris began to bear down on the smaller mer; A loud boisterous roar resounded towards Feroxus in the Dunmer's native tongue “Binthid de alri busad!” the sudden barrage would have killed someone who was hit by it.
Feroxus had avoided most attacks and was able to get on his two feet again, evading, dodging and running the two were in a dance, where the large grey shadow of a mer, chased the small figure that was Feroxus, in the confusion of it all not only did Feroxus grab his blade Voradis, he although gained his blade, he felt the dull burning sensation as the wavy blade Seheris had cut into his left side. Had Feroxus not been what he was he would have been dead, the ax had rendered the armor on Feroxus' right shoulder useless, the armor had done its job in protecting him. Calling out the names of the twin blades, one burned with the intensity of a roaring flame, and one was the burn of the freezing tundra in the throes of a storm. Feroxus' eyes became clouded and smoky, he could feel that primal part of him wanting to tear through the flesh and devour this wretched excuse of- his mind caught back on track as he growled out sending a flurry of his own into Seheris, the marks left by the enchanted weapons left scolded skin, and dark cold dead skin.
"You will tire before I do!" he barked out as he began to go back to the defense agile dodging. "Eventually you will understand that you may be the biggest beast, but that doesn't make you the deadliest." Voradis cold touch hit Seheris in the face hard right across the cheek, the clatter of the Dunmer's blade against the ground was heard too late as Feroxus' wrist was grabbed by and yanked, along with the rest of his body. Both of them were tired Feroxus was dazed taking more than a few steps back trying to regain his surroundings, Feroxus' eyes locked upon his enemy who was now on one knee, he was wearing down. Feroxus' body was basking in a warm glow, the pain was there but the dizziness in his head slowly began to subside, and although he bled out of his side it was slowing. "You fight well, a bit off center, but well." he tore off the remains of the armor, it was an old husk, something he should have discarded long ago. Seheris was bewildered and completely lost, the one strike should have ended the Bosmer's life. “What in Oblivion are you? Any mere man, or mer would’ve been dead from all those blows being struck. Yet, you bear a thick, unnatural hide.” Feroxus laughed softly. "I should probably be dead by now.....odd isn't it?" his tone gaining a cold edge. "Do you wish to continue? Or do you think you now understand that if I wanted you dead or broken I would have done it?" his tone was clearly amused as he slid the fiery blade into its scabbard and readied a spell, his hand glowing a greenish hue. "Just tell me and we can continue this contest...or yield and I won't break your jaw."
Feroxus saw how tired his opponent was but he also knew that even after he said that the younger male would not give up. Even with the blood running off of him in small streams Seheris' gritted his teeth before he yelled out.“Yield?! Over my dead body!” Feroxus had expected something, but not the Ashlander launching himself at him. He evaded for the most part, but the sudden flash of red along with the crunching noise as Feroxus' nose broke was his last attack against him. Blood drained from his nose he groaned softly before growling out in a near-feral tone. "Idiot." the loud crackling noise and the pain happened again as Feroxus readjusted his nose. Seheris's half turned body was greeted by a kick to the chest knocking the air out of him, coughing as if he had inhaled smoke he was then met with a kick across the face making his lip gush with blood. "Yield!" his blade Voradis came out again, Feroxus had channeled all of its energy the dark blade now turning ice white as it pointed to Seheris' neck. Seheris spat out a glob of saliva and blood covering the blad and Feroxus' arm. Slay me, then, Fetcher! …I won’t be seen as a trophy, for your mercy. …I’ll die proudly as a son and warrior of the Junasa.”
Before Feroxus could pull his blade back an arrow struck between Feroxus' foot and Seheris' thigh, both eyes shot over to to the soft stamping sound of a Nix-Ox, with its rider on top of it, the screech it emitted as the woman got off the beast after it had lowered itself toward the ground. She rushed toward them quickly before either could react she drew her bow and when at the side of Feroxus, she continued to hold it so that at any second it would release and deadshot him. "Drop your weapon then back away slowly, n'wah. Laws are on sacred grounds you stand on if you know what is good for you - listen. Do not force my hand." The voice sharpened by rage burned across ashen features carried a thick dunmeri accent as her crimson gaze narrowed at the Outlander and very slowly lowered into the rim of her eye to Seheris. “...Sister! This isn’t your quarrel!”
Feroxus scoffed as he spat out the words. "Honorable combat indeed." his teeth were gritted, the woman had him dead to rights, for he didn't know if the arrow was enchanted or not, he stared upon Seheris for a long while. "No, you agreed to my terms, and I was to honor our ancestors with the death of a n’wah, such as yourself in honorable combat.” The sister glanced at her brother as he waggled his tongue more when she looked back to Feroxus, Feroxus spoke as he tossed Voradis away, and dropped Vandris. "If you look at him you will see the worst wound received was from him being an arrogant prick and attempting to cut me in pieces. I am Feroxus of the Sundered Star, had I know this patch of land was holy I would not have agreed to combat here."
"I do not care who it is that started a quarrel; this is ground protected by laws that declare no outsider or f'lah may enter bloodshed, it is a punishable offense for all who draw a weapon." Her tongue flicked over her thin, dry lips and the way her shoulders tensed up to let her braids cascade down their strong muscles. Though Feroxus balled one fist up in anger, the other hand that was open and noticed by Seheris began to glow an icy blue glow. After Seheris tossed his weapon he saw that the one hand was ready to react. "One slight of harm towards her, N’wah, and I swear on all our Gods, and ancestry – I will fucking kill you. Even if I’m dead, I will haunt your lithe ass. Do not situate your fixation elsewhere, Fetcher.”
"I will repeat this, Outlander, your fight ends now. You stood down with your weapon, but any further action will be punishable by death." To enforce her point, Salalyne jerked her attention over her shoulder where a row of mer clad in chitin armor display scimitars and bows readied with arrowheads aflame. The mer levied that heated stare onto Ferox, "You came here looking for goods, you will pay half for anything you desire. Then, you will leave." Feroxus gently placed the charged hand to his own side that was bleeding still and nodded his head. "If I was stupid enough to want to die he would have met the end of my weapon. I have no death wish." He said as his dark eyes stared at the woman and then the guards. "Interesting indeed." In utter disbelief, Seheris nearly screamed at his sister. “He commits the heinous of crimes towards our very people, with looking down upon the very Gods that helped mould us, and you grant him not leniency, but convenience! Half the price of what’s to be bartered with this fetcher? Sister, who made you the law here?!” The light that emitted from his side was now green and his wounds were for the most part taken care of. "Right." He stood there waiting for Seheris to leave, he simply said. "I wasn't the one who wanted the blood." His eye went back to the sister. "When he leaves I grab my things and I will go back to my ship. Simple as that." He said with a firm nod. "You have my word."
“You signed your warrant for death upon the very minute you belittled our tribe, Gods, and the very ashen grounds that you tread on.” growled out as he was slowly escorted away by his Kindred, something was either broken in the wounded Dunmer or dislocated as the creaking and groaning were heard. The female lowered her bow, an instant signal as one of the guards came walking ahead blade on hand. She cursed at her brother in the native tongue before she turned her head to Feroxus eyes sharp like daggers. "He will stop your blood from spilling further, go on." The twins were off bickering and talking in raised tones, at one another. Feroxus' 'helper' tried escorting him away. "I can heal my own wounds thank you. You have shown me enough for one day. I can still walk, talk, and maybe do a bit of a dance if need be. So I don't need your help." he slowly sheathed the weapon before he grabbed the other one as well and sheathed it as well. He limped the whole time he walked on his walk back to the ship, the Ashlander walked next to him, and upon arrival to the ship he simply said. "Safe travels."
Feroxus was utterly exhausted, his eyes were heavy, but he could not simply allow himself to bleed, he gathered his tent stuff and went back out onto the shore. Administering healing tonics and what magic he could muster, his body was almost stronger than his mind, the wolf within wishing to tear out of the cage and murder all of the Junasa. Though Feroxus had ensured to quaff down a sleeping potion as he finished the last of his mending. The darkness would take him, and the fate of two beings were now sealed, and neither of them knew what was to come in the future.
Posted Feb 26, 18
· Last edited Feb 26, 18
As the night waned so did the resolve of those who lurked in the shadows for this night had a full moon, and the howls of the wolves carried upon the wind. The night was near silent aside from the roar of the fire in the small came around the roaring flames, a handful of people sat around the fire. The men and women clad in animal hides, leather, and some even wore bone armor, children of the Reach. Indeed there were at least six awake, six brave souls on such a night.
The weary, the elderly, and the children slept inside of the tents silently, as these six vanguards were to be their solace from the terrors of the night. But no one was prepared for the horror that was about to occur them, for it was the hunt and the endless hunger of Hircine would unleash upon them.
"Oi, I gotta piss, I'll be back in a moment." one of the larger men grunted as he moved away from the campfire.
"Careful Olnic, it is a full moon tonight, you know what might be prowling these woods." one of the women warriors softly called out after the man.
"Woman, I don't need you holding me hand the whole time! A man can stand on his own two legs-" there was a sudden crashing through the trees before suddenly, the fire snuffed out. The smells of burning flesh, fur, and blood filled the air.
"What in the name of-" a man's voice was cut off and replaced with a low grunt. The five stared as he was hefted up into the air; A large hand protruded from his chest; a heart in hand the large figure could be seen behind the dead warrior. All was silent the imposing figure finally growled out as he tossed the soldier into another and began its attack.
The screams roused the whole camp the chaos had begun. The bodies of men and women riddled the forest floor; men tried fighting back the beast, though they wounded it, only seemed to go into a further fury. Women tried to protect though it proved futile as the claws and teeth rend the flesh from bone. The children, those sweet innocent things, at least died fast. But they lingered long enough for the memory to stain the thoughts of the beast.
Morning would come, the birds sang softly; the smell of blood and decay filled his nostrils. The throb in the back of his head was the only thing he could focus on as he sat up to observe the world around him. The bodies soaked the earth with their crimson fluids. His heart pounded, and his stomach twisted up into knots.
Feroxus had done the unthinkable, though he was at ease with killing the evil and wicked he was not okay with killing children. His body willed itself to roll over, he retched before bile, and the contents of his stomach emptied itself. His eyes burned with tears, and his voice cracked as he let out a wail of agony. What have I done?
Tears streamed down his cheeks as he began to move amongst the bodies, daring not to touch them, for if he did, he knew this day would surely burn brighter in his thoughts. As he carried his feet carried him onward, his sorrow weighed down upon him. As he left the camp, he could feel the silent laugh in the back of his mind. He hated every soft huff it made, and most of all he hated himself.
Posted Apr 3, 18
· Last edited Apr 3, 18