#eso verse

[moonshadowedthief]

" 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐎𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒 “ from Urnarseldo! (any tes verse!)

Smash or Pass | @dragxnsfire

“Hm. He IS cute, I admit, and with that life there's no way he'd be boring; I'll say smash.... Assuming Ayrenn hasn't gotten there first.” She adds the last part with a wink and a wicked smirk.

[crowtongued]

{--Super proud of my Fashion Scrolls team.--}

[frost-eyed-autumn]

@starsburned @memoryextrction

Ash. Brimstone. Sulfur. The slow burble of molten rock. The crackling rumble of dry thunder without clouds. Soot-filled crimson skies and black-dusted stones that had never in all their existence felt the touch of rain or humidity in the air.

The kind of dry, parched, boiling place that most mortal things would soon enough suffocate in, or die baked from the furnace-like temperatures or from sweating until there was no moisture left in their bodies.

For him, he's perfectly at home. Even beneath heavy pitch-black plate lined in red accents, he barely feels the radiating scorch of a world made of lava seas and barren rock.

Few others ventured into this part of the Blood Pits, not even the boldest of daedric fighters and champions. Every chipped archway and crumbled pillar and wall filled with deep gashes told a story of why, if the shattered corpses and skeletons of humanoid and daedric creatures scattered all over the pit didn't send the message home first.

Even the skies above were vacant. No bird-like creature or even the shadow of a Titan's wing passed overhead, as though even the air directly above were somehow too cursed to fly over.

In the absence of anything, sharp metal gauntlet claws knead against stone and score lines into the adjacent metal over his own forearm restlessly. Scraping, scraping, sharpening--

A low animal growl. The inhale of acrid smokey air. An unfocused gaze through the narrow slots of a spikey helmet fashioned like the head of a beast.

Black and red. Black and red. Black and red. Deep black and blood red.

All the world a distant haze. The only world he's ever known. He can't even recall awareness, beyond that there exists him, and shadows, and that those shadows can be destroyed.

But all is quiet now. Steady, too steady. Too quiet.

A yearning to tear. Rip. Rend. Blood between his fingers. Something. Anything.

A flicker. That's all it takes. A flicker of something that wasn't there before. He knows every shadow in his den. By instinct maybe or something resembling intuition.

Something that's not supposed to be here.

Something he can kill.

A louder, feral growl in his throat, curling and uncurling the claws of his armor, simultaneously rising to attention and hunching between his shoulders in readiness to spring.

A fight, a fight, a fight, a fight, a FIGHT, DESTROY, D̸̝̤̉͐Ẹ̶̛͇̃S̷̛̖̼̐T̸̜͔̒́R̷̨͕͛Ö̴͈̏Y̵̫̦̽̔, D̶̡̥͓̬͖̝͇̪̝̲̂̍̊̇͂̐͂͘͝E̸͙̋͐̽͌̂̒̏̓͠͝͠S̷̻̙̹̭̲̦͐̉̃͗͊͐̄̑͌̈́̽̏́T̷͔̖͖̞͎͍̙͍͍̟͛͒͌̽͋̎́̀͒͠͝͝Ṟ̷̗͚̺̼̯̘̱͕̫̻̰̊͛͂O̸̧͈̜̰̝̣̗͂͗́̆̿̚̕ͅͅY̵̛̜̼̙̝̣̣̻̮̯͊̂͊̄̍̾̂̈̑̎͒̆͂.

[mage-of-markarth]

“You’re safe now.”- Razum dar

She hadn’t expected the bridge to collapse, the young mage finding herself pitched into the fast flowing river without warning.

A hand had clasped the back of her collar before she’d had time to go too far, not expecting to see her fellow eye downstream, his grip on her strong as he hauled her from the water sputtering and coughing, all but wrapping her shaking form around him, a faint part of her mind laughing at how damp she was getting him.

“Raz? How did you know? Thank kyne you were there, I thought I was gonna drown.”

[crowtongued]

{--So I’ve got a new project--}

[crowtongued]

{--Didn’t feel like writing or playing games today so instead I ended up doing some art of the good crow boy and his dire wolves enjoying some downtime by the fireplace. Haven’t done art in like 6 million years but I feel pretty good about this piece all things considered...--}

[crowtongued]

“What a miserable way to die.” - Wakahisa to Alekt

It hurts to breathe, but by comparison of Reno, he considers he’s gotten off easy. No surprise to him, with the skills he’s worked towards for so long, but that’s only so much of a consolation. He’s no sort of skilled healer for anyone but himself, and that does Reno no good here.

He covers up a wince as he breathes in and out, gingerly resting a hand over his ribs where his magic is working to heal the damage, but it still takes time, especially when fractures and breaks are involved rather than just the soft tissue. It won’t be enough to kill him though. Not on its own at least.

It doesn’t show on his face, save for some distance in his eyes, but he blames himself.

He’d known that Hircine would be wiser to his tricks since the last time they came to the Hunting Grounds, but that knowledge hadn’t been enough to evade a counter to it. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised. Hircine is the Master of the Hunt, a Daedric Lord, a full being before Nirn was even an idea proposed to the Et’ada by Lorkhan. Twenty years is far too short a time to think he could outsmart the Prince in the long-run, even with Nocturnal’s blessing.

For now at least, Hircine is a threat out of reach, but not without a cost. He breathes out slowly and leans his back against the cool stones. He needs to get Reno to the Sanctuary – to Ster – but he didn’t have the magicka left to make another portal for them yet. The best he could do was send a crow and gather his strength, hope that Reno could hold out until then, but the scent of blood was rancid in the air of their hiding place.

He gives a low hum, absently petting a few knuckles lightly over the top of Reno’s head and red hair, focusing on careful breaths and watching for any sign of danger. For now, all is quiet. He’ll count their small blessings, however long they last.

“Just try to rest and keep up your strength until I can get us to Ster and L’vitsa. Today won’t be the day if I can do anything about it.” A promise he doesn’t know if he can keep, or that Reno can make, but there’s no point in not trying.

If Reno does die though...

His gaze briefly shifts to the cursed mer. There had been their deal... a promise made, but was it one he could keep himself? Could the Clan afford it? Reno’s loyalty was unquestionable, in this life, but he would be someone else next time. Would it be the same? Would it be forgivable if he didn’t fulfill his end?

His gaze shifted away again. Perhaps, if there was a Clan to return to... but he didn’t plan on letting it fall apart. He planned to lead for a long time. Whether the Clan would be the same without its first Eye, or even with in another life, that was another matter entirely.

[moonshadowedthief]

Spotting the Altmer, the Khajiits smile widened. Zeza approached without much caution, a happy pep to her step as she held out a box. “Would you like to try one of my sweets?” She asked politely. “There is sweet rolls, cookies, and all that good stuff!”

@clawedxmoon

Elenna returned the khajiit's smile, immediately distracted from scouting the marketplace, instead taking in the sweet scents from Zeza's box. “I would love to, thank you!” After a moment's consideration she adds, “Actually, how much to try one of each? I think I simply couldn't only choose one!”