The evening sun is red with ash and low on the horizon as Thelryn Savasi hurries past the gray, curved buildings to Gnisis’ market. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and pulls his hair back from his face into a messy bun as he half-jogs, trying to reach the stalls before they close for the evening so he can help his wife make her special lava foot soup with the freshest ash yams. It is, after all, a very special occasion; everything has to be just right.
He pulls down the faded red scarf that protects his mouth and nose from the ash to greet his friend Dralys the farmer as he reaches the stall.
“Thelryn! How are you?” Dralys asks with a warm smile behind his ragged gray goatee.
“Ten!” Thelryn answers, beaming with pride. Fifteen years ago, he never would have imagined he’d settle down, let alone that he’d be married with two children. He’d been a thief and an adventurer for five hundred years, and he could have gone on for five hundred more if he hadn’t met Llilea. But as things are now, he’s the happiest he’s ever been.
“You and Llilea must be so proud,” says Dralys as Thelryn looks over the ash yams.
“Oh, we are. But he’s getting to be quite the troublemaker… He’s too much like me,” Thelryn laughs. Dralys chuckles as well, although he doesn’t know the half of it; it’s not just Velseth’s propensity for sneaking, climbing, and making trouble that worries Thelryn. It’s his too-sharp teeth, his uncanny reflexes, and the way he loves the night, rushing into it fearlessly like a river to the sea to play in the ash long after everyone else has gone to sleep. He doesn’t share his father’s craving for blood, but Thelryn worries he’ll be hunted just the same as if he does.
Velseth will be old enough to know the truth about his heritage soon. But not tonight. Tonight is a time for celebration. Thelryn picks out the three best-looking ash yams.
He’s about to ask Dralys how much when he feels it, deep within the earth and up through his feet: a boom too low for even his vampiric senses to hear. It feels far away, but it’s massive - so massive it’s as though every bone in his body jolts. The laughter and conversations in the busy market stop. Thelryn and Dralys look at each other, sudden fear written across both their faces as they wonder what it could mean. Is it an earthquake? An eruption? Or is it the moment all of Vvardenfell has dreaded for the past eleven years, since the disappearance of Vivec, the potential catastrophe that wakes them in cold sweats at night - could Baar Dau have just fallen?
“B’Vehk… What was that?” mutters Thelryn.
Dread sinks in and the market buzzes with hushed murmurs. And then it starts - the ground begins to tremble as though Nirn itself is shivering. Someone screams as the sky turns blood red, and Thelryn whips around to see his worst fear confirmed as ash and fire erupt from Red Mountain, its peak illuminated by volcanic lightning. Terror settles in the pit of his stomach and he drops the ash yams with shaking hands. He dashes back towards home, not caring if anyone sees how unnaturally fast he moves as fire rains from the sky like Azura’s vengeance. This is no ordinary eruption.
He reaches home just as the massive stone hits, and his house is blown apart with his family still inside. Thelryn screams, rushing in to dig through the burning rubble, not feeling the burns on his skin or the smoke in his lungs through the rush of adrenaline.
“Llilea! Velseth! Nerala!” he desperately cries out the names of his family, choking on ash and the smell of burnt flesh, until he finds what’s left of his son and lets out a wordless scream of grief and horror. He holds tight to Velseth’s mangled body as he digs through the burning rubble, and the next thing he knows, he’s uncovered Llilea, still clinging to Nerala, who will never see her third summer. Llilea’s beautiful red hair is completely burned away and there’s not enough left to see the last expression on her face. Thelryn screams until he tastes blood.
Someone grips his shoulder.
“Come on! We have to go now!” Thelryn doesn’t react. Whoever it is pulls him to his feet.
“Leave them; they’re gone!” they cry. Thelryn shakes his head, sobbing. They haven’t had their last rites; leaving them behind is unthinkable. Someone else joins in and they begin to drag him away.
“No! No!” he cries hoarsely, “Let the fire take me, too!”
Thelryn’s rescuers drag him away, and he reluctantly lets them, if only to prevent them from endangering themselves to save him. They reach the coast, but the sea has shrunk back as though fleeing the fire, exposing too much of the sea floor.
“Get back! Look at the sea!” cries one of Thelryn’s rescuers urgently. He recognizes her voice. It’s his neighbor, Biiri Dreth. Thelryn dimly remembers that receding water can mean a tsunami is coming. He runs with Biiri and his other rescuer in the other direction, still clinging to his family’s charred corpses, and when his unnamed rescuer is struck down by a flaming stone from the volcano or the sky that’s coming down like a wall of fire, he and Biiri don’t stop running.
Together, they make it to high ground and find an ancestral tomb that faces away from Red Mountain. With no other options, they hide there, hoping against all hope that it doesn’t cave in and trap or crush them, and that the dead there don’t notice their presence. They’re not the only ones who huddle close to the walls near the entrance; several other survivors from Gnisis and a pair of Urshilaku hunters have found their way inside as well. Someone hands Thelryn a charred blanket and he covers his family’s bodies with it. A little boy, one of Velseth’s friends, lies nearby in agony, missing most of his left arm, and the scent of blood is nauseating, even as Thelryn’s mouth waters. He kneels by the boy and focuses as much as he can against the sound of the volcano, touching the wound to perform a healing spell and hoping that if he can’t save his own son, he can at least save someone else’s. Eventually the boy’s uneven breathing slows as he loses consciousness, but the blood loss has stopped. Between the tourniquet, the burn that has cauterized half the wound, and Thelryn’s healing spell, he’ll live.
“Azura edur uloram eam malkem,” one of the Ashlanders mutters to his companion, just loud enough for Thelryn to hear, “Isk edur eam ferghen sut sharmat ahanha.” Azura is showing her hatred. This is her punishment for devil worship.
THE DRAGON'S NEST IS NOW OPEN! Come one, come all! Custom dice trays starting at $20CAD are now available for request. If you have any questions feel free to ask or message us! The featured in the pictures above is 6"×12", lined with vinyl, the exterior has a soft houndstooth ribbon,Birch plywood bottom, and has a heavy duty basswood frame. We will soon be rolling out dice bags and be taking resquests for custom ones!
Princess Serenity (part two)
If you would like to have something similar for your own dolls, please send me an email: [email protected]
Available for SD, MSD and YoSD.
Fully customizable colors and patterns to match your dolls’ style and personality :)
I would like to thank you all for the trust and support you have given me over the past months, in particular, just want to say a super big THANK YOU to all my customers for the patience while waiting for your commissions to be done and shipped :)
I hope you can feel the love I put into each item I create! <3
Wishing you lots of amazing goals, dreams and achievements for the New Year! <3
Sailor Venus - Minako Aino
If you would like to have something similar for your own dolls, please send me an email: [email protected]
Available for SD, MSD and YoSD.
Fully customizable colors and patterns to match your dolls’ style and personality :)
