#aforgottenchampion

[dunmeriis]

"Don't chase the rabbit" (Nchuanamz)

"If you're going to stay around all afternoon you may as well be of some help. Go get the cutting--"

He hadn't even finished his sentence. Nchuanamz had already stood up, snatched the cutting sphere from its place and pushed it into Yagrum's half-extended hand. She then made a point to fold her arms and shift her weight to the side, observing his work in silence.

Silence, then a pointed "hm," was all he said on the matter. They sat wordless for a while longer, the only sound coming from the device that sat on the table before him. The sour smell of metallic flux stung her nose as it rose into the air between them. Once, she'd have blinked back or covered her nose, but now, she was used to it. Instead, she continued to watch in silence until the other Dwemer eventually spoke up and shook her from her thoughts. 

"For someone unable to project their mind, your thoughts are incredibly loud. Speak up. Get rid of the clutter."

Straight to the point. She didn't expect anything less, really, but she felt almost offended that she was read as such an open book. Maybe this really was weighing on her. She took a moment to gather everything that had been on her mind- What was pertinent, anyhow. 

"I don't want this art to be lost." 

The moment she spoke, she felt Yagrum's demeanor stiffen, but he didn't speak yet. Maybe because she didn't give him a chance to, continuing before he interrupted. 

"It's not as evil as you insist. You know just as well as I that things only changed with the Project! That knowledge on its own can still be used for--"

"For good?" He finished for her, turning. The look he gave was piercing. He grunted, and turned back away to the workbench. "You've seen how that ends. It deserves to die with us." 

The air turned cold, and Nchuanamz bolted forwards, narrowly holding herself back with a clench to her teeth. "Don't you dare bring her into this. You know full well--..."

She stopped as her words found themselves caught in her throat, and she never hose to finish them. Hands shaking, her glare was met with stone and silence. He didn’t even turn. Bringing up Cor had been a mistake for both of them, only worsening the heavy and tense pause in the air. Nchuanamz eventually broke it with a short string of spat, cursing Dwemeris. She turned with hardened features and a wound-shut jaw, and left the room. 

If only she'd left it there and not come back to try and prove her point. Why? Why did she feel the need to prove herself to him? Had it been some sort of denial? Whatever it was didn't matter. Not now. Too late. She didn't think that she'd see him again for a long time. Maybe forever. The loss cut deep, and part of her knew she was the only one to blame for it.

Stupid. How utterly stupid.

[brielleroux-archive-blog]

1, 10, 21

1. (childhood) Agreat day turns terrible in a matter of moments.

She could hear them. Her parents, aunt, the Keeper andothers – they were upset. Arguing, she realized. About what she didn’t know,but it must be a terrible thing. She’s never heard her aunt speak so loudly, orviolently.

Eventually, their voices quieted. Another biting remark camefrom her aunt, and then she heard the soft crunch of shoes on grass and gravel.Before she could react, her aunt rounded the corner and spotted her. A troubledlook crossed the elf’s face. “We’re leaving, da’len.”

10. (young adulthood) Gettinginto trouble.

It had been a stupid, stupidthing to do, but she still did it. They wouldn’t leave her alone. What wasshe to do? Allow them to pester her and mess with their belongings? No.

So, she grabbed her aunt’s old staff and threatened theruffians: leave, or they’ll regret it. The ruffians – who were nothing morethan elves of the city, all the same age as her – didn’t take the threat seriously.That is, until one came close enough for Nellas to strike them with the staff.Not hard enough to cause serious damage, but enough that the girl yelped inpain.

Her aunt was upset with the news, and with the actionsNellas took. Proud, in a way, but upset.

21. Knowledge is shared.

They sat in silence, sipping on the hot tea her aunt made.Nellas’ eyes darted around the room, lingering on some objects longer thanothers. Her eyes refused to go to meet her aunt’s.

Three more sips of tea. Before she could take a fourth, heraunt said, “Did he know?”

Nellas stared into her cup. “No. He didn’t.” A hum came fromher aunt, but nothing more. After a moment of thinking, she asked, “Should Ihave told him?”

“Perhaps,” was her aunt’s reply, “but you didn’t, and what’sdone is done.” Her voice was soft, caring. A drastic change from what Nellastends to hear. “Do not torture yourself, da’len. Let it go.”

[tural-amring]

@aforgottenchampion:

Rothryn sighed and accepted the other’s hand. “Sorry. I’m just frustrated. I have a lot on my mind and being punched in the face by a stupid nord didn’t help. So I kinda took it out on you.”

Tural pulled the older Bosmer up with a slight grunt of his own, taking a second afterwards to readjust the sling his right arm was bound in.

“Eh, don’ worry ‘bout it. Been livin’ in Skyrim too long ta be bothered by bein’ snapped at.” He looked the other over for a moment. “Doesn’ look like ‘e broke anythin’, I’d say yer alright.”

[netepi-seht]

✔✔

Send me a“✔✔” in my inbox to see what my muse thought about yours at first glance.

Ancient. He looks like a bag of bones, this should be easy. 

[boarchasers]

1, 4, 12

1: What was your first TES game?

Skyrim. I was busy with my degree. I tried to resist. I failed.

4: What is your favorite thing about TES?

Getting lost in the world. Its characters and plots may not hold up to, say, Dragon Age, but I’ve yet to find another game in which I genuinely enjoy wandering around doing nothing but exploring.

12: Favorite faction?

To join? Probably the Thieves’ Guild. It was the most enjoyable for me in Oblivion and the one which felt the most like family in Skyrim.

Lore-wise? The Telvanni. Some of Tamriel’s most intelligent, formidable minds… who would rather squabble with each other about kwama eggs than help save the world, because their personal issues are more important than some petty little apocalypse. “What’s that, peasant? Everybody is dying and you believe you’re Morrowind’s only hope of salvation? How nice for you. Go and fetch me some soap, my arthritis is playing up.”

[moonsugarblues]

12, 31, 45

12. Favorite book genre?

“The kinds that I can actually read. So none.”

31. Most prized possession?

Hazred bought his lute in his late 20′s, around the time the Great War had been tearing Tamriel into pieces. He still has it to this day, and if something bad were to happen to it, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

45. Superstitions or views on the occult?

Hazred hates all manners of dead and deceased, the rare times he’s ever near them are when playing at funerals and wakes. Magic in general is a big no-no for him. He actually has a phobia of it, due to his experiences with magic were mostly offensive and usually towards him. Despite the occult being responsible for his incredible skill on the lute, all caves cloaked in superstition, halls of the dead, towers made for witchcraft, and mage guilds are places he won’t stand 20 feet near.

[llerynserathis]

32 & 39

32. Thoughts on material possessions in general?

Lleryn once had many fine jewels and articles of clothing, and chests full of personal items that he took with him on his journey northwards with Evesa. However, after the horrors that befell him, very few of these made it to Skyrim with him. Now what he has he guards fiercely - especially the few ancestral idols and relics he managed to keep with him, and his cherished daggers. He is often torn between the desire to be surrounded in possessions again, the fear of loss by theft in such an inhospitable city (and not to mention the stress of having to justify each non-essential purchase as he tries to scrape a living). Subsequently almost any gift to him is as welcomed as if he were an Ashlander.

39. What recharges them when they’re feeling drained?

Lleryn recovers from the stresses of everyday life by drawing a scalding-hot bath and having a good long soak. The heat is comforting to a Dunmer who does poorly in cold weather, and he finds it soothes the muscles after a long day of hunting or forge-stoking. Before bed he’ll have a cup of sujamma and spend a quiet half-hour kneeling by the Waiting Door to meditate, clearing his head and gathering his strength to face a new day in the morning.

[dunmeriis]

⭐ (Nchuanamz)

Nchuanamz has only ever intentionally killed one living thing, and it so happened to be another person. It was an act of self-defense, but she still remembers it with a twinge of guilt. They’d been a friend once.