Prelude (Part 2) - A home on a high rock.

• Posted by FXMorph February 7, 2013 - 716 views

  
  
  A home on a high rock.

  Ok, right, before we continue, let me tell you a bit about myself first.

  Growing up, I was pretty normal.  Our Breton family was not very rich, but Dad and Mom made sure we always had a full belly and a warm bed to sleep in.  Dad was probably the best hunter I knew.  Well, don’t we all think that of our fathers at some stage in our lives?  But yes, he was exceptionally skilled with the Bow and arrow.  While Mom would home school my brother and I, my dad would hunt deer and wolves to sell venison and pelts at the market in our village in High Rock.  Mom taught us how to clean pelts and make leather, while dad taught us simple things to survive in the wild.  He showed us which plants were good for healing wounds, and which ones we should avoid to not get sick.  He also showed us how to forge simple makeshift blades in the forgery behind the house.  Nothing spectacular, daggers, arrow tips, buckles for clothes, and that sort of thing.  A quiet life, maybe?

  Well, there was something that my brother and I shared.  We were twins, him being the boy, and I the girl.  But that was not all we shared.  We each had strange abilities.  My Brother could play with the fire from the pit in the house.  He could make the flames dance and twirl.  It was beautiful to behold.  I on the other hand could do something that was not so great.  We first found out when my pet rat died.  The cat attacked it and ripped open its spine.  I remember I could see the dark incur of blood running through my small fingers as I held its tiny body in my hands.  I cried and cried.  I recall myself going into a strange kind of daze.  When I came to, my brother told me that I had to keep what I did a big secret.  His eyes as wide as wooden plates.  He told me he had to kill it with the wood axe, and that he was very sorry.  Apparently I made the poor rat come back to life.  From my brother’s blank face, it must have looked horrible trudging along with its innards hanging out.  My brother and I made a pact to keep my ability a secret.  After all, our mother used to tell us about witches and evil warlocks that would summon the dead to scare little kids that go into dark caves. 

  But my brother was not without compassion, he knew I wasn’t evil.  When he got enrolled to study at the Winterhold College, he would read books about necromancy and conjuration and write everything in letters to me.  Yes, I did not go to the collage, back then a girl of 16 stayed at home, and learned the house trades so she will be fit for marriage one day.  In secret when hunting on my own I would practice the notes and diagrams my brother would send me.  I recall the first day I conjured Torge.  He was a spirit wolf.  I don’t know how he died in his previous life, but the first time we met, he took a liking to me.  We would hunt together, and my skill in calling him forth became easier and easier with each summon.   Yes life was simple, and very secretive.  Or so I thought…