Underlying Scripts: Chapter I-I: Beneath Deepest Poetry

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       Not a single light dared traverse the shrouded barrier. Once, a citadel for the Tribunal’s religion. Now, ash lay scattered across the floor, creating increasingly deep mounds, until it reached up to a man’s knees. The waft of the deceased reeked horribly of Necrom, strong as fume, yet fine as glass. Torches and lanterns had since burned out, leaving a trail of oil under them, for hope of a future flickering flame.

     

       Galos perched himself at the top of the staircase, it’s steps appearing just as grim as he. He shouldn’t be here. The soft patter of ashen corpses, flayed his mentality more with each second.The mere sight of the darkness below, the walls that stood on each of his sides, they were uncomfortably close, and closer they came with each second, synchronized to the footsteps, until Galos was truly encroached. No,no,no. Geldis was right all along…

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    “Tell me, Galos, how did go your heroic crusade into the ‘bowels of the Tribunal’?”

    The Dunmer frowned stroking wisps of his thick pearly beard. “Come now Geldis, you know how much I utterly despise jesters. Now, if you have half the aptitude of one, you’ll drop the matter.”

    “Ah yes, but unfortunately i’m not someone of grand intelligence, so please do tell me? Or I should I just assume, and tell you that I told you so?”

    “No need,” Galos’ voice cut through the air bitterly,”tombs are not my forte, to say the least. In spite of this minor failure, and as much as I want to get this town running again, my ship travels tomorrow morning. I’ll not stand idly by any longer, it’s about time I conduct my final orders of business.”

    Geldis gave off a wry smile,”Tis’ a pity, my friend. Well, hopefully you’ll do well, eh? Where are ye headed?”

    “I travel to the Shrine Of Azura, I’ve need to… make peace with myself. With any luck, Mephala will cut off my string in Nirn’s web, there. I’ll rest easier in Skyrim. Won’t have to deal with any damnable Ash Spawn. Away from the ghosts of my past that haunt Solstheim and all of Morrowind. It’s a calmer place, colder, bitterly cold, but I’m nothing if not adaptable, hm?”

    Geldis frowned,”Well, if you must be leaving, then a toast is in order.”

    Galos looked around to find the Retching Netch completely empty on the lower floor. “There’s no one else here..”

    “Between the two of us, then. I wish you the best of luck, friend. Hopefully you’ll stop by, some time in the future, right? See how things are going? I see tides of change for Raven Rock…”

    “Perhaps when I return you’ll be living in the center of Dunmeri civilization, eh? A metropolis of Morrowind...”

    With his final statement given, Galos took a deep swig of Sujamma, the final drink of the night.

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    The Pale

    “We’ll be docking any minute now, get everyone on deck.” The Nordic captain ordered his crew with a staunch confidence that was undeniable by the blindest of men.

    Varus watched the crew members go beneath the main deck, and pull out at least a dozen of men, hands tied together, and bonded to each other by a rope as thick as a boy’s fist. Varus had been truly lucky, and he acknowledged it with every bone in his body that moved. A large rag covered the Imperial, now just as soaked as he had been only a few hours before. His sleeves had been ripped apart, exposing the cuts on his arms; still warm to the touch. Even worse were the markings on his chest, that tainted the grey of his thick wool shirt. Yet even with layers of wool and perhaps the heaviest rag he’d ever held, his hands had gone numb and he was not so sure he’d had them by the time they docked.

    Varus shook violently covering himself with as much of the rag as possible in the cold Pale air. He feared hypothermia was in his future, but the gods would surely not save his life, just to kill him off from cold?

    After what seemed like an eternity of cradling himself as compactly as possible and attempting to fit his entire body under the rag, a small town had come into view. The buildings appeared of rotten wood, many of the roofs, were starting to come apart. It appeared as if a single blizzard would destroy half the town. If this was to be his savior, he did not want to imagine his demise.

    The ship stopped rocking suddenly, tossing the Imperial from starboard to port side in mere seconds. Varus slammed against the wooden railing, cracking a small part of it, and sending a shot of pain through his side. Varus emitted a silent whelp as he rolled on the deck.

    The tangy smell of sea salt had begun to fade away, leaving Varus with nothing familiar nearby. A large man, more muscular than a Taurus, heaved Varus’ shaking body into his arms, and walked him over to an Inn as the Imperial shook and cried in silence.

    Varus was taken to a bed straightaway, with cheap ale by his bedside and leftovers of a seared slaughterfish were left on his plate. In spite of the fact he’d not eaten in at least three days, Varus refused to move, as his bones ached at the slightest joint roll.

    His quarters were small, but comfortable. A single chair next to a wooden dresser, not one of fine quality of course, but it was fitting for a beaten and bruised man found at sea. At the very least, it was warmer. His legs had begun to itch horribly, but the Imperial moved not an inch.

    A robed elf entered his room, soon after he’d been left there. The robe was in fine condition, with the exception of a few tattered areas. A small stain caught his attention, it darkened the robe a deep crimson that appeared as if it were about to ignite in any second.

    “Woah there, don’t move,” a deep Dunmeri voice assured him, “Those are some pretty bad cuts you have there. How does a man get something like that?”

    Varus sighed and managed a quiet croak,”Bandits.. the cart I was guarding… it’s pillaged..”

    The elf gave a frown. As he spoke he cast a bright tepid spell, moving it intricately across Varus’ body,”A guard were you? How’d you end up at sea?”

    Varus shook his head,”Markarth..” he whimpered.

    The pain soon subsided to some degree, but it clearly wasn’t enough, leaving most of his wounds open, and pus filled.

     

    “Well, that’s all I can do, friend. I’m afraid our healer has a bit of a temper, an’ she’s deep asleep. Every morning she complains, jus’ like the rest of the people here I suppose. Anyways, let me not trouble you with my issues, it seems you have enough on your plate. Get some rest, I’ll be here in the morning.”

    Varus nodded with approval, and kept his head laying on the rock-like pillow; slowly smoldering himself into the back of the elves' mind.