TrekOct 29, 2018Oct 29, 2018 at 05:31 PM
#1
Hearthfire 27, 586 2e
Well, I've gone and done it again. I told myself it wasn't a good idea, but last time I did this, I felt I unlocked something within. I'd thought that maybe I wasn't going to take another trip into an awful memory, but either Siirdan has expired moonsugar, I don't have graceful trips, or Jone and Jode are trying to pound something into my head.
When I awoke into this dreamscape, my mind wasn't whisked away to a place of brilliant sunshine, flowers, and the scent of a fresh spring breeze in a meadow. I wasn't back home in Summerset, but rather halfway across the world, back in Cyrodiil. It was one of the worst battles I'd ever seen in my three years fighting, and was one of the many that I was needed to partake in. It was on a lumber yard somewhere just west of the Imperial City. For the life of me, I can't remember the name of the keep, or how Pact forces got that far west.
I closed my eyes in the Shattered Grove with the smell of grass and campfire embers fresh in my nostrils, only to have it replaced with the staunch aroma of fear, death, and blood, along with the mid-summer's heat intensifying it all. My body was heavy under what felt to be a ton of stone, breathing all but halted underneath the crumbling ruins of a watchtower. The memories of this battle, how it played it out, and what it'd lead to flooded my mind, yet as hard as I tried, I couldn't move. I couldn't even remove my helmet to get a breath of reasonably fresh air. The tell-tale pain of a concussion rattled my skull as the sharp clashing of metal on metal rang out just meters away, the cries of war, of pain, glory and defeat. Admittedly, it only made the pain worse, as poetic as it sounds.
I hadn't the slightest idea how long I'd been unconscious, and even to this day I can't recall. Even if it was a dream, a trance, whatever you'd like to call it, everything felt so real, even the rising suspicion of an oncoming heatstroke as I was being roasted in my armor by the glaring sun. I'd have killed for that day to at least have been overcast. I almost did kill, but was stopped short by the tower collapsing on top of me. Had it not been for my armor, I wouldn't be sitting here writing this.
Siirdan's voice spoke to me once more, calling out for me to pray for the moons to save me. To grant me some sort of mercy, I suppose. I knew how this battle was going to end. Only a few handful of survivors being dragged off by Daedric cultists, and [the following few lines have been inked out].
In my fear for re-living these moments, in desperation that this trance not continue any longer, I cried out to Jone and Jode. I'm not sure if those outside my trance could hear me, but every last bit of strength I could. The world around me became a blurry haze, the very ground around the keep crumbling away into a void of nothingness. As the mist of darkness overcame my vision, another light pierced the mist. When I came to, the pressure on my body was lessened, and the rocks that once entombed me in the debris were lighter than feathers, easily pushed and swayed, remaining suspended within the air.
The horrendous battle that once was ceased to exist. The only person on this island in the vast expanse of nowhere was myself. I wandered to the side, peering over, but all I could see where the clouds, shining a brilliant white against the backdrop of the night sky. I turned my attention heavenward, greeted by the presence of the Twin Moons once more, and in a ray of their magnificent light, another door was revealed to me, much like the previous one.
Even though I was the only creature on that rock, I didn't feel so alone anymore with their light shining upon my armor. I approached the door, and opened it just as the previous one, though I'm not entirely sure my waking was as graceful as my previous trip. When I was roused from my trance, my head was in massive amounts of pain, and Siirdan was laying on the ground holding his as well... Nobody wins with a headbutt.
I wonder what path my life would have taken had I known of the kindness that Jone and Jode had to offer during that battle. If I had been faithful, or had I even begun to consider having a faith.
Well, I've gone and done it again. I told myself it wasn't a good idea, but last time I did this, I felt I unlocked something within. I'd thought that maybe I wasn't going to take another trip into an awful memory, but either Siirdan has expired moonsugar, I don't have graceful trips, or Jone and Jode are trying to pound something into my head.
When I awoke into this dreamscape, my mind wasn't whisked away to a place of brilliant sunshine, flowers, and the scent of a fresh spring breeze in a meadow. I wasn't back home in Summerset, but rather halfway across the world, back in Cyrodiil. It was one of the worst battles I'd ever seen in my three years fighting, and was one of the many that I was needed to partake in. It was on a lumber yard somewhere just west of the Imperial City. For the life of me, I can't remember the name of the keep, or how Pact forces got that far west.
I closed my eyes in the Shattered Grove with the smell of grass and campfire embers fresh in my nostrils, only to have it replaced with the staunch aroma of fear, death, and blood, along with the mid-summer's heat intensifying it all. My body was heavy under what felt to be a ton of stone, breathing all but halted underneath the crumbling ruins of a watchtower. The memories of this battle, how it played it out, and what it'd lead to flooded my mind, yet as hard as I tried, I couldn't move. I couldn't even remove my helmet to get a breath of reasonably fresh air. The tell-tale pain of a concussion rattled my skull as the sharp clashing of metal on metal rang out just meters away, the cries of war, of pain, glory and defeat. Admittedly, it only made the pain worse, as poetic as it sounds.
I hadn't the slightest idea how long I'd been unconscious, and even to this day I can't recall. Even if it was a dream, a trance, whatever you'd like to call it, everything felt so real, even the rising suspicion of an oncoming heatstroke as I was being roasted in my armor by the glaring sun. I'd have killed for that day to at least have been overcast. I almost did kill, but was stopped short by the tower collapsing on top of me. Had it not been for my armor, I wouldn't be sitting here writing this.
Siirdan's voice spoke to me once more, calling out for me to pray for the moons to save me. To grant me some sort of mercy, I suppose. I knew how this battle was going to end. Only a few handful of survivors being dragged off by Daedric cultists, and [the following few lines have been inked out].
In my fear for re-living these moments, in desperation that this trance not continue any longer, I cried out to Jone and Jode. I'm not sure if those outside my trance could hear me, but every last bit of strength I could. The world around me became a blurry haze, the very ground around the keep crumbling away into a void of nothingness. As the mist of darkness overcame my vision, another light pierced the mist. When I came to, the pressure on my body was lessened, and the rocks that once entombed me in the debris were lighter than feathers, easily pushed and swayed, remaining suspended within the air.
The horrendous battle that once was ceased to exist. The only person on this island in the vast expanse of nowhere was myself. I wandered to the side, peering over, but all I could see where the clouds, shining a brilliant white against the backdrop of the night sky. I turned my attention heavenward, greeted by the presence of the Twin Moons once more, and in a ray of their magnificent light, another door was revealed to me, much like the previous one.
Even though I was the only creature on that rock, I didn't feel so alone anymore with their light shining upon my armor. I approached the door, and opened it just as the previous one, though I'm not entirely sure my waking was as graceful as my previous trip. When I was roused from my trance, my head was in massive amounts of pain, and Siirdan was laying on the ground holding his as well... Nobody wins with a headbutt.
I wonder what path my life would have taken had I known of the kindness that Jone and Jode had to offer during that battle. If I had been faithful, or had I even begun to consider having a faith.