Finding a lost soul
A familiar sense of nausea took hold of Loric as the power of the sky shard lifted him off his feet. Blond hair rose up in all directions as his body arched in a catatonic state. The blue magic of the stone bathed him in its gift before unceremoniously letting him drop to the ground in a dazed heap.
“Dammit! You can never just gently put me down...can you!” muttered the blond man as he picked himself up and brushed the dust off his clothes. I wonder what I'll learn this time he thought while trying to regain his wits once again.
A few months ago, Loric Syntel found himself in a prison with no recollection of who or what he was. After being assisted out of that dank cell by a very tall female, he learned from a dubious old fellow that apparently he had been rendered soulless. He was then invited to run around the world and fend for himself in this far from ideal state.
The old man, who called himself a prophet, did mention the existence of magical blue stones that he referred to as sky shards. The prophet indicated that these my contain some essence of his previous existence.
After stumbling onto a few over the next month, he found a memory hidden in each stone that was slowly unlocking the mystery of who he was. One contained his name while another returned a skill with a blade he didn't know he had. In this painfully slow process Loric would eventually regain a sense of self that was all but lost.
So many questions. Did he have a wife? Children? Who were his parents? Where was he raised? The answers would come at a painstakingly slow pace. Loric sighed as he ran through in his mind any new insight that might have been awarded by this last embarrassing drop from the sky. He had to chuckle and shake his head at the latest revelation,
“Apparently....I like cats.” he muttered to himself as he continued his slow walk to another unrecognized location.
Posted Nov 26, 18
· Last edited Nov 26, 18
The blond man awoke with alarm as he realized he could not feel his arm. He thought it was just a continuation of the dream he was having. But as consciousness returned to his sleepy self, the man was now certain his left appendage was completely numb. He turned his head left to address this troublesome condition only to come face to face with the cause of his discomfort. This discovery created an immediate dilemma in the man's mind as he realized the remedy would be almost as unpleasant as the affliction.
The sultry features of the petite elf Llyrian suddenly filled his vision. Her face was close to his as she slept peacefully with her head lying on his arm. One of her shapely tapered ears peeked out from her dark long hair. Loric stared a moment and forgot all about his present lack of blood circulation. He wondered why he was so attracted to that damn ear. He suppressed an urge to take it between his lips and nibble on it a bit.
Loric Syntel had been traveling with the petite female for a few days now. Llyrian was a good companion but he had not counted on this sudden passion he was feeling. He blamed the last sky shard. Yes, that was his story...and he was sticking to it.
It seems he absorbed a very erotic memory along with the fact that he very much liked women. And just like that the vision of this lovely elf began to create some very indecent thoughts in his head. He even found himself blushing at his shameless fantasies.
The morning light streamed through the window of the Rosy Lion Inn where both had collapsed last night after a harrowing encounter in the northern moors. He was sure that the possibility of intimacy had crossed his mind as they shared the same soft bed. Exhaustion quickly overrode any desires he may have felt in that regard. But, as the day broke and energy returned, there came a rumbling below that accompanied the pain in his arm.
Loric eased his arm out of the death grip her head held on it and sighed in relief as the blood started to flow once again. His bicep tingled as he flexed the arm to make sure it was still in working order. His eyes still stared at her ear. It was calling him again.
He tore his gaze away and chuckled quietly at his apparent newly found fetish for pointed female ears. It was time they were back on the road north. He would have to wake her. Pity. She looked so angelic lying there half dressed.
As the sunlight crept steadily toward the sleeping woman he found his forefinger gently tracing her soft brow. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as another indecent vision exposed itself in his head. Her lovely green eyes fluttered open and sleepily engaged his blue ones. A small smile curled her full lips.
Llyrian looked down curiously to see she was barely covered. Her eyes widened and a blush replaced the smile. She grabbed the blanket and quickly pulled it up to cover herself. "Why am I without proper clothes!!?" Her eyes squinted at Loric, "You didn't take advantage of this elf while she slept did you?!" Her tone was playfully accusing.
"Why no M'lady Llyrian..This companion was a perfect gentleman!”
"Pity! Seems you had your chance and choose not to recognize it!" she said sheepishly.
"But as for your tussled appearance," added Loric, "I can explain that to the lovely elf.... if she so wishes of course". He looked over at her with a twinkle in his eye.
LLyrian tilted her head feinting great curiosity. "Pray tell Mr. Syntel as I would so like an explanation to this mystery."
" Well” proceeded Loric “That very spot is where M'lady chose to collapse last night after she cruelly attempted molestation on this poor man to the point of abuse," mused Loric in fake alarm, "But... luckily…this gentleman was able to hold the determined elf woman at bay until sleep overtook her. Although the attempt may have left this poor soul with permanent emotional scars!" Loric nodded like a true victim.
"And are there any physical scars?" queried the amused elf.
"No M'lady...It seems the body was unscathed and free of wounds."
"Pity again", she smirked "I must try to do better next time."
Loric's forefinger drifted down her arm and then he gently rested a palm on her abdomen.
“You seem a bit more frisky than you did last night Sir.” cooed the elf woman. “Are you sure you are not too old and exhausted to engage in such morning frivolity?”
“Madam! I can assure you this man is quite capable of administering any and all such pleasure upon your lovely self.” chimed the man as he rolled closer. His lips were dangerously close to hers when he smiled brightly and said playfully. “Now prepare yourself for the best ten seconds of your life!”
That said, the two of them broke into a fit of laughter. It was a healing release; and a well needed respite from the horror they has witnessed on the road.
Posted Nov 26, 18
· Last edited Nov 26, 18
The blond man sat quietly at the edge of a clear crystal pool and studied his reflection. His hair was stuck to his forehead and his clothes were soaked thanks to his last encounter with the nearby sky shard. After rewarding him with another memory, it promptly deposited him into the cold water of this shallow pool. He found it remarkably curious how these non sentient crystal structures always seemed to dump him into some perilous geography. There was the ravine that held him trapped until a Bosmer chanced by; Once he was thrown into the branches of a tree; and another time into a group of skeevers. Loric was beginning to think the shards enjoyed this sort of mischief.
He and his elf traveling companion had parted ways; as she had some business in a place called Summerset. Loric realized a companion made this journey much less tedious and would hope to find another soon. He put those thoughts away for now as he trained his concentration on what this latest shard had to say.
Loric digested the new information and was a bit taken aback. He apparently was a musician before all this soul stealing. Tunes ran through his head as he sat contemplating the surprising revelation. The sounds were familiar and seemed personal in nature. Lyrics and sounds flashed as he found songs and poems dancing around in his mind.
'I'm a damn bard!?' he thought as the noise began to subside. He now understood why he purchased a flute from the passing merchant the other day. Hell if he knew why! He never even played one. For some reason he just had to have it. Loric rummaged through his pack and produced the gold colored instrument. He studied it a moment before wetting his lips and bringing it to them.
He was shocked to see his fingers seemed to know their way around the instrument. They found the right spots in concert with his breath...almost as if they had a mind of their own. Notes began to fill the air. The tune was hauntingly bittersweet; full of minor notes that were pitch perfect and pleasant to the ear. Loric closed his eyes and played from some well rehearsed memory.
His eyes opened as some sort of glowing white and lavender magic seemed to spin from his fingertips. The magic moved toward him and swirled around his head. It smelled of springtime...full of sweet rain... and crisp morning air. As it closed around him, he felt a strangely light and tranquil silence enter his mind. And a pressure he never knew existed was suddenly lifted.
Loric halted the song and the magic dissipated leaving him remarkably refreshed. The blond man curiously reflected upon what just happened and realized he had another stop to make when he reached Dagger Falls.
Apparently...he was some sort of mage.
Posted Nov 27, 18
· Last edited Nov 27, 18
The blond haired man traveled the dreary road in a cautious, steady pace. The sulfur filled air accosted his senses reminding him to be wary on roads that were no longer safe. Large trees, bent and broken, flanked the pathway on either side. He passed the bones of long abandoned bodies left to bleach in the sun. Sounds of battles would frequently spring up from distant locations contributing to the sense of chaos that represented this volcanic landscape.
In spite of the danger the land presented, Loric Syntel was glad to be on the road. The blond poet was anxious to visit the mage guild in Glenumbra but decided to follow up on a sky shard lead here in Vvardenfell. His last sky shard revelation increased a thirst for more.
This trip awarded him time to think of other possibilities. Was he a well known musician and, if so, where? Did he have a wife? Had he owned property somewhere? He found himself asking way to many unanswerable questions.
The sight of the warm blue light reaching skyward halted his ceaseless query as he was again drawn upward into the beam. He was dropped hard; landing on his back. Luckily there it was not a lava pool where he lay.
“Was it good for you too dear!?” he barked sarcastically at the now dimming stone.
Loric sat up and immediately recognized a part of his past. He was a spy and investigator for a clandestine group of bards. Yes, it was clear. They called themselves the Reeves and answered to no faction but helped them all to maintain a safe balance of power. Loric rubbed his temples as he considered these memories. When a group of them would operate in a hostile city, they would enter as a traveling troupe called the Miracle Players. And there was a name...it was on the tip of his tongue. He strained to remember who the leader was. This man or woman could clear up much of his foggy past.
A sudden rustling jarred the thought of spys from Loric’s mind. A rapier swiftly appeared in his left hand as he scanned the roadside. The shambling bodies made no mistake as to what it was. The undead had sensed his life force and were moving in.
Loric looked for a possible escape path if needed but found they surrounded him and were closing steadily. One jumped suddenly and yelled “kill!” The bard drew his staff and blasted fire in it's face point blank. It didn’t stop it…but a staff whip and a few thrusts from his sharp rapier did.
Loric could see this was going to be a desperate fight. The smaller, quicker ones were on him. His staff flashed and smoked with each discharge and his sword arced incessantly; cutting limbs and severing heads. He found he had evened the odds since the undead were not coordinating their attack. This allowed him to piecemeal their numbers. He was tiring but felt like he may be able to find a path to flee if need be now. Just when this boost of confidence materialized so did a dull thud to the back of his head. The bard turned to see a huge risen troll of some sort as it picked up another large rock.
Loric’s eyes saw red stars and he was blacking out. Only instinct for survival dictated his hands and arms to dispatch the last two small ones that were trying to take advantage of his sudden ill fortune. The Poet felt himself begin pass out before he could deal with the larger one. Loric fell to his knees just in time to avoid the second boulder that flew over his head. But his arms dropped to his side as his head spun. The creature moved to finish him off by picking up a small tree trunk as a club. As it raised the makeshift weapon over its head, the bard could only wait for the inevitable.
A sound rang out from somewhere to his left. Through the grayness of his semi-conscious state, he saw the creature’s head explode; sprinkling bits of bone and unused brain onto his jerkin. Loric tried to raise his head to see where the electrical blast originated. He focused on the brush in the high ground where a figure approached.
Exhaustion, coupled with the nasty blow to the head, finally had their way with the blond man and he fell over. His mind slowly drifted off and his eyes closed to a blackening world; but not before he saw the tall figure of a robed, raven haired man wearing an eye patch and carrying a very large staff.
Posted Nov 27, 18
· Last edited Nov 27, 18
“So what was a poet doing in such a wild and barren spot as that?” asked the large man as he spooned a helping of stew from a simmering pot into a wooden bowl.
“Apparently I was impersonating a warrior...and not very convincingly.” answered the blond man with the bandaged head.
Loric winced as he willed his bruised body to sit up. He accepted the bowl of nourishment with a thankful nod and slowly began to eat.
“I've never seen an archaeologist handle a beast like that; and with such ease! No offense; but I have always thought you guys to be bookish and more into less martial endeavors,” teased the blond man. “Not that I'm complaining mind you!” Loric studied the man curiously as he ate.
The large Breton called himself Kellen Stark. He featured a black patch over one eye and displayed about a weeks growth of dark facial hair. He wore a bulky green robe and bore a kind expression underneath a tanned and weathered countenance. He looked to be maybe in his mid thirties. In spite of his benevolent nature, Loric was quite sure the man could be dangerous if provoked.
“That creature was lucky I DIDN'T throw one of my books at him,” added Kellen dryly. “Some of them are painfully heavy.”
Loric smiled at the comment before forming a curious expression. Kellen? Can I ask you something that is puzzling me?”
Stark nodded and tilted his head waiting.
“Just before the creature was dispatched, it froze in mid swing. I swore I felt a foreign sensation at the same time.” Loric continued. “Frankly I was certain it had time to club me yet didn't. Was that you?”
Kellen chewed a small bite of stew quietly then answered matter of factly. “Yes...I stopped time for a moment.”
The bard looked astonished. “Is this something you can teach me to do?” he uttered.
Kellen considered the blond man thoughtfully before answering. “Possibly. If conditions are right.”
“Conditions? What do you mean by conditions? Pray-tell!' pleaded Loric.
“On the condition that you have the time to learn and the desire to perform a few tasks for the Order.”
“Order? What order?” spoke Loric puzzled.
“An old and respected group of mages called the Psijic Order.” answered Kellen.”mostly elves; but a few outsiders like myself have recently been awarded insight into their ranks. I've found the experience to be most exhilarating.”
The blond poet's eyes showed some interest. “What tasks must I do?”
“Well, presently I could use some help tracking down a very powerful artifact.” offered Kellen, “A staff to be more precise. The endeavor sometimes requires travel into dangerous areas. A back up sword could be handy.” The man then resumed eating his stew and remained quiet.
Loric tossed this proposal around in his head for a few minutes. It would require travel with the possibility of finding more of these sky shards. And learning magic that can manipulation time could be very useful. Loric also figured he did owe the man something for saving his life.
“Ill do it!” uttered the bard. “My sword is yours! I will accompany you until this artifact hunt for your staff is complete.”
Kellen nodded. “Very well. We will rest for a couple of days till that swelling goes down. We shall then proceed south.” Stark paused a moment then continued in a more serious tone. “All I ask is that you follow any directive I may give you. Some of these pieces can be dangerous if not handled properly. Agreed?”
Loric nodded as he saw the serious expression on Kellen's face.
“Very well!” chimed the mage with a bit of a twinkle forming in his eyes. “I would hate to have to throw a book at you!”
Posted Nov 28, 18
· Last edited Nov 29, 18
The blond man knelt quietly by a picturesque bubbling brook in the gorgeous landscape of Summerset. He was alone and his mood was somber. He had just discovered the reason for his penchant toward shapely tapered elven ears. But not every missing piece of a man’s soul is welcomed back with opened arms. Not every action in a man’s life craves to be remembered. There are some recollections that would be far better off forgotten.
As the blond bard absorbed and reflected on this lost memory pulled from the most recent sky shard, he realized that he had once been painfully negligent. Loric shamefully recalled undisciplined indulgences of youthful pride and arrogance which led to the tragic end of a marriage. A union to a most agreeable elven woman. This lost episode of his life came flooding back with uninvited clarity.
"Aluvia!!....Have you seen my belt?" A young Loric Syntel yelled up the stairway.
He was on his hands and knees looking under the bookcase.
"Love! Can you help me? I've got to meet the Queen's Eye in town soon!"
A soft melodious voice answered with a bit of amusement.
"Try under the bed Loric. That place where you chose to ravish me to no end last night,” she added.
“And with nary a word!"
The lilting voice grew louder as a petite elven woman slipped down the stairs....
"Not that I'm complaining..." chimed Aluvia playfully.
The young agent looked up at his wife. She was gathering her cloak for the long ride to an outlying farm. He drew in his breath as he recalled last night; her small supple body lying under him. Her cobalt eyes were gazing into his. Loric was truly in love. From the time she had said hello by that secluded lake in the Auridon woods, his heart was hers. No doubts...no fears...just unconditional love.
Unlike most elven women he had met, Aluvia retained none of the typical high elven sense of entitlement. Her attitude lacked the normal air of superiority to other races. Loric never met a kinder woman.
Aluvia wore simple brown breeches and a cotton shirt for comfort. Her healing skills were needed to treat a local farmer for a snakebite. A long shapely ear stuck out through her silky auburn hair as she smiled goodbye to her starry eyed husband.
"Oh Loric...have you given any more thought to letting the new man, Jericho Young, take over for you on this job?" asked Aluvia. “You have virtually finished the work and he is not known to those who try to steal the throne. You, on the other hand, have attracted a few enemies according to the gossip."
The agent just stared at his wife before opening his mouth. "Do I tell you who to heal...or when to heal... or where to do your job!? Why do you insist on meddling with mine?!"
Aluvia was a bit stunned by his impatient response. She calmly explained that she was simply worried for him. There was no need to accuse her of being some sort of controlling shrew.
"Then stop acting like one!" said Loric with a bit of irritation. “Stop poking your pretty little nose into my business!" he spat before thinking it through.
They both just stared at each other now in quiet anger. Then it happened. The dreaded ear paradox! Loric knew he was sunk.
When Aluvia got really angry with him, her long, shapely left ear would start to slightly droop. And for some unexplained reason it affected the agent in a most endearing way. She looked so childlike and so damn adorable to him that he could not keep a straight face.
So there he was, straining to keep a grin from forming. Loric was aware she disliked him smiling when she was angry. Aluvia considered it rude and invalidating; and she was right; and Loric knew he was dead when the grin finally burst onto his face.
"I’m out of here!" she fumed and immediately stormed away. She got on her horse, and rode off toward the western farmlands. She never even looked back at her sorry looking husband.
He watched her until she disappeared from view. All Loric could do was sigh and shuffle off to his meeting.
There are some pictures young men never see. They can spot the ones right in front of their noses easy enough. But due to youth, arrogance, ego, or a combination of it all, they almost always miss the big picture.
Loric Syntel was one of those unenlightened youths. He just hadn't lived long enough to develop the gift of wisdom. And the fool living in his head hadn't ever suggested that anyone but himself was in danger. Never in a thousand years could he have deemed it possible that they would target grace itself.
They said his cry was heard throughout Auridon when made aware of the news. The crossbow bolt entered her neck and had cleanly cut her spine. She did not suffer.
But Loric did. That was the day that something closed inside of him. A place that the living would not be allowed to enter for many years. And he prayed to the gods in hopes that, from the instant the bolt hit, until she took her last breath, she had found time to forgive him.
Posted Nov 29, 18
· Last edited Nov 29, 18
The slight nudge prompted Loric to open one bloodshot eye and waggle it around the barn searching for the source of his discomfort. All he could see in the dust filled beam of early morning sunlight was a pair of black boots standing near his prone form. Loric reclosed his eye in hopes the annoying boots would exit his hay filled sleeping spot and leave him to continue his dreamless slumber. It was wishful thinking as another nudge, this time harder, compelled both eyes to fly open and his body to slowly sit up.
"You must have a death wish," mumbled Loric's dry lips as his body leaned back against the barn wall with a thud. "Why are you waking me in the middle of the bloody night!?"
"You confuse me with another who has a death wish. One who sits possessed by an ale-induced stupor in front of me," spoke a voice that was surprisingly soothing. "Loric, I wish to offer you a bit of life for a change."
Lorics's hand shielded his eyes from the light. "Who in blazes are you?" He tried to focus, but saw only a tall dark shape looming over him holding a bucket. The image was short-lived...as icy cold water exploded onto his face causing him to jump up disoriented.
"You've had it now!" Loric grumbled reaching for his rapier. Another booted foot kicked it away a moment before his hand touched it. "Alright," conceded Loric, "What in blazes do you want?...I see ye want something...Spit it out then...and let me go back to sleep!...You damn skeever!"
Loric could now see a dark haired man with a kind face staring back at him with a bit of amusement. “I hope you clean up well! We have an appointment."
"Not till you tell me who you are and what business you have with me!" complained the blond headed bard with arms folded.
"You really don't remember me do you?" countered the other man. "Think back... a narrow alleyway in Wayrest ...two boys in the rain...you and... Dodger wasn't it?...Dodger.. Yes...That was him."
When the man mentioned Dodger, the word stung Loric's fuzzy thoughts into shocked attention. The name jarred his memory better than a potant sky shard. His mind began to follow the man's description back...back to Wayrest...back to a dark night in Rat Alley...back to the cold driving rain....
"RUN LORIC!..RUN FAST!" screamed the teenage boy to a smaller one running just behind him. "THEIR GAININ!"
Desperate feet splashed through the rain soaked cobblestone alleyway as two lumbering shapes followed close behind.
The boys suddenly skidded to a halt and pulled up on a small doorway at the end of the alley. It was locked up tight. "Buggers Loric!...They said they would leave it open!...Trapped like rats!" Both boys jumped behind some old barrels and quietly waited... shaking in fear.
The burly sailors grunted and wheezed as they entered the trash filled dead-end. "Har Har! You be ours now! Make it easy on yourselves and come out!" offered one of the smelly brutes.
Loric knew if they were caught by these two, they would be sold to one of the ships captains as on board slave laborers. They might as well die now then to go through the torment that would await them if caught. Dodger and Loric exchanged frightened glances. The orphans knew that capture wasn't going to be an option.
One of the seamen waited at the skinny entrance while the other trudged closer wielding a great club. "Come out now you! Don’t make me work hard and I won’t hurt you bad!" chortled the thug.
"We got to make a break past them." whispered Dodger. "We can't be caught!"
The boys started to get up just as the barrel was kicked aside and a club came down. It crashed into Dodger's head knocking him out cold. Loric yelled out in terror while drawing a small dagger out of his boot. He waved it unsteadily up at the huge man.
There was a moment of silence as the big brute blinked and took in the absurdity of the small utensil...until he broke out in laughter.
"You gonna kill me?!!...Nooo! Doon kill ole’ Scudley...I surrender!" joked the looming thug just before leering at the boy with menace.
"Now you come!" spit the abductor as he raised his club and covered Loric's small shape in its shadow. Loric closed his eyes and waited for the blackness to come... but it never did.
Music!? Loric heard music; and when he opened his eyes to peek, he saw the brute... frozen in mid-swing. The man was grimacing, as if in pain, but wasn't moving an inch.
"Well, shall we get out of here or would you prefer to wait till they awaken!" said a handsome, red haired man armed with a warm smile and a soothing voice. He looked a bit like a dandy the way he was dressed but was, in Loric's mind, a much better risk than the two sailors.
The bard picked up Dodger and quickly slipped out of the alley and to the safety of a room in the tavern. Loric studied the strange man as he attended to Dodger with a cold compress.
"Bad news for Wayrest. He’s gonna live," smiled the man with a playful expression.
Loric couldn’t help but grin now. He liked this one. He felt a nurturing that was rare to him. "Who are you mister?" inquired the lad, "and why'd ye help us?"
The other turned and grinned at the boy. "Boston Grey, alleged singer and songwriter at your service... and as for why I helped you?" continued Boston. “Let's just say I did you a favor, and someday, you shall do one for me in return...Deal?"
The boy Loric felt gratitude that there were no strings attached other than a future favor. Hell, he probably would never see the man again anyway. So what did he have to lose?... Nothin!
"Deal!" the boy chimed. "A deal it is!!"
"You are Boston Grey aren't you?" asked Loric as his mind returned to the present. "You lead the Reeves."
"That I am...and I'll be collecting that favor now. So...follow me?" Boston walked to the barn door and opened it waiting. “You have been lost in self pity far too long.”
Loric stared at the bard for a few seconds before picking up his gear and following Boston Grey out of the barn without so much as a word of resistance. His interrupted sleep, the only freedom he knew since recalling his wife's death, would have to wait.
Posted Dec 1, 18
· Last edited Dec 1, 18
The shadowy archive section of the old reference library in the Vivec City was an inferno waiting to happen. Dry and dusty, it's contents of old brittle notices, aged tomes, area histories and other historical data would burn like all hells if touched by anything resembling fire. The blond bard Loric Syntel sat quietly at the lone table in a room that had been undisturbed for many years. He was surrounded by heavy wooden shelves that reached for the high ceiling; each laden with delicate, yellowed and irregularly placed books and scrolls.
He read by the light of a small crystal that gave enough white light to read without rendering heat to the kindling that was evident everywhere. The bard had little use for mages as they always seemed too self-absorbed and arrogant to suit his tastes, but looking at this tiny lighting device gave him cause to think they may have some small benefit to mankind. He chuckled amused by his own arrogance; especially given the irony of the fact he recently discovered he was one.
As Loric carefully browsed through the many literary contributions, the fingers of his left hand idly ran though his hair. He had almost lost a small clump of his golden locks yesterday while searching a cave in Vvardenfell. A powerful elemental of sorts conjured fire on him. The bard managed to dispatch it with a calming frost just in time. Unfortunately, not before a spark lit up a small spot on his head.
The pressure of finding elusive old shrine locations was tedious. He was sure another worry line would crease his youthful face before this was over. He hoped today's search would prove more fruitful than the previous.
The Bard turned back the page of the dusty tome that sat in front of him. He had reread the sentences thrice but got little out of them. His eyes saw the words, but his mind was elsewhere. His thoughts strayed far from the archive room and settled about the image of Boston Grey. Recently, he had spent an evening in his company being briefed on the last few years of his forgotten past. It was an eye opening experience learning about a lost history that was both foreign and familiar simultaneously.
Apparently he had worked for the Reeves guild for the past fifteen years. The job involved working with nobles and even kings. The stories were filled with intrigue and excitement. Loric could hardly believe he was the author of such an adventure.
The poet blinked and realized he had read the same sentence four times and still received no benefit. He focused his mind once again on the task at hand. The Reever would like nothing else but to let his past occupy his thoughts, but it was time for him to start willfully concentrating on the reason he came here.
Boston assigned him to help secure old tomb rubbings for the library in Vivec city. It was a supposed to be a job with little danger but with opportunity to still travel and secure more of his past. His trek to secure a staff with the one eyed Stark was completed; but not without a few sticky situations.
The blond man rubbed his strained eyes and refocused them on the ancient chronicle he had extracted from among the many old records that sat on the aged shelves. He skimmed much of the narrative and maps that the wrinkled pages contained before something caught his eye on one of the illustrated sections.
With a bit of excitement, he pulled a parchment from his cloak and laid it next to the symbols in the book. His scroll contained samples of strange runic letters copied from the writ acquired from the city's librarian. As he compared the the words and illustrations from another time, Loric saw now how similar they were. A chill ran up the back of his neck as he studied the renderings and noticed one of the drawings looked extremely promising.
Then he saw it! It was a perfect match. Two symbols he had transcribed to the parchment were identical matches to those in the tome. Its location pointed to a small island off the east coast of Vvardenfell.
The Bard sat and gloated a bit before he carefully packed up his notes and walked toward the exit. As his footsteps echoed through the hollow emptiness of the large hall, his thoughts were focused on a single objective. He needed to find a fast horse and possibly a boat to secure a new rubbing.
Posted Dec 5, 18
· Last edited Dec 5, 18
The blond bard looked on as the pretty woman carefully wrapped his bleeding forearm. He hadn't noticed the seriousness of the deep puncture wound until seeing the copious trail of blood that was apparently originating from his sleeve.
"I can do this Miss, it is not necessary for you to do dress this wound," complained the uncomfortable man, "I am quite capable of..."
"Hush up!" said the petite stranger as she gingerly treated the wound, "You act like you have never had someone care for you before. It isn’t like I’m going to let you bleed all over this nice road!" She smirked a bit as she glanced at him.
Loric stiffened as she wrapped a deep puncture rendered by the nasty swamp lizard. His reaction was not from the pain of the arm cut. Loric clearly was feeling residue from some older and deeper memory.
The last sky shard he absorbed filled in an episode in his past and this woman looked suspiciously familiar. As he watched her twist the clean bandages into place, it reminded him of a time when he was alone and hungry. He recalled struggling to make ends meet on the Dagger Falls streets. It was the day he learned a lesson about sharing due to a chance meeting over a discarded meal.
They had bumped heads trying to rummage through the only trash crate on the back porch of the inn. They found themselves grasping the same stale loaf of bread and a small tug of war ensued. She was not letting go of the only thing she would have eaten in two days and neither was he.
"Let go!...I had it first!" he remembered saying in his most intimidating voice. "I don't WANT to hurt you!" he growled.
That's when he first noticed how serious he was being taken. She shook her head, grinned and pulled harder!
"I mean it...I am not fooling with you...I'll hurt you...LET GO!" threatened the young blond orphan as he gathered for a mighty yank.
The woman's full lips then curled into a coy smile and with an expression that read, 'If you want it so much...have it!’
She let go while he was in mid-pull.
Loric’s eyes opened wide as he was suddenly flung backwards off the small wooden platform. Luckily there was a statue to stop his fall. Granite too! The future poet slammed hard into the stone effigy of some revered king and lay sprawled on his back with the loaf of bread rolling away.
His tasty meal stopped at the feet of the two women standing in front of him. He squinted his eyes commanding the two shapes to form into one; the one that was picking up HIS bread. Unfortunately, the boy was rendered immobile by the blow and could only move his mouth.
"Drop that before I kill you!" he managed say with hardly a slur.
She was looking down at him with a bit of sympathy till he made that threat. Then her shoulders started to shake from the giggling that overtook her. Laughter burst out louder every time she glanced at his pathetic form. When the slap of bird turd landed on him from the crow perched on the statue's shoulder, she fell to her knees in uncontrollable mirth.
The blond squinted at her. "I'm warning you...Once I can move..!""
This last warning sent her into convulsions. She now lay on her back holding her belly trying to prevent a gruesome death by hysteria. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she struggled to breathe.
Finally she regained control, stood up, ripped the loaf apart and dropped half onto his prone stomach. His blue eyes took her in as she chewed bread and quietly considered him. He narrowed his eyes at her as he watched her eat HIS bread.
But suddenly he saw her. Even though his pride was wounded, warmth filled him as he watched her eat. Gods...She was beautiful...and unflappable as well. And she shared her rightly won meal with him.
“You have a name madam?” the Loric quietly uttered.
“Elly Stone...and you?” inquired the brunette girl.
“Loric….Loric Syntel…at your service,” he managed with a wince.
Elly stifled another laugh and once again looked at him with sympathy. “It seems I might be at your service for a little bit M'lord; at least till the swelling goes down.”
As the bard's mind returned to the present he considered the female passerby curiously before uttering, “You aren't called Elly by any chance are you?”
The woman looked up a bit stunned and suspiciously asked, “Why yes and how did you know?”
Sometimes there are events that we try to forget while others we cherish. Still there are some that can only be describe as life changing.
Posted Dec 5, 18
· Last edited Dec 6, 18