A Lens Into the Past (Open)

[Imesen Holli]

The warm light of the summer sun beat down on the back of a young, blond Breton who stood atop a hill overlooking the pristine ivory ruins of the Ayleid city of Fanacasecul. His arms were folded over his slender chest as he exhaled slowly, his eyes glittering as he gazed at the city like a prize to be won. The treasures inside were certainly worth the danger involved in prowling through the dark ruins, but what really drew him was what could be learned.

Almost lazily, his long fingers slid down to his hip and caressed the frame of a steel crossbow that hung off of a hook on his belt. Next to this was a quiver of bolts, which could easily pierce armor and made the weapon far more favorable to him than a standard bow. Combined with his Illusion abilities, the young Breton, Imesen, felt that he could successfully make his way through this ruin, and hopefully find some examples of the Ayleid language that he could study at his leisure. Going in alone was, of course, dangerous, but there was always the chance someone had gone in before or would come in after him, and although he preferred to work alone, he knew he wouldn't mind the company.

The warm wind rustled through the leaves of the trees behind him as he made his way down towards the edge of the sparkling water. The first step that he took onto the marble ruins caused a shiver of excitement to run through his body. According to his mother, he had much-diluted Ayleid blood in him, and while it was likely so many generations back that it didn't matter, the stories of the First Era had always fascinated him. His ultimate goal was to eventually prowl around Sardavar Leed, the home of the legendary Alessia; for now, he would content himself with this city, which he felt certain was once a thriving seaport into the Nibenay Bay.

Imesen approached the heavy door of the ruins and pried it open, grunting with the effort of moving a heavy stone door that was in desperate need of restoration. When it opened, cold, stale air blew across his face, causing him to bring his arm across his face to avoid choking. After the ruin had been opened for a few moments, Imesen pulled a black cloak out of his back and threw it around his shoulders, lifting up the hood and closing the fastening on it, making him seem like a shroud. He then drew his crossbow and loaded a bolt before stepping forwards into the ruins, blending into the shadows perfectly.

The first thing that was apparent to him as he slowly stepped down the stairs was the pale green light cast from the crystals of the Ayleids, allowing him to see in the dim light without having to waste magicka on a light spell. The mere splendor of the ivory walls and the light crystals caused a sigh of despair to pass through his lips; he wished he knew what these ruins had looked like in their prime. Even with the human slaves (and the fact that he would no doubt be counted among their number), it would have been worth it for even a glimpse into the past, to see the beauty of the pure white ruins in their prime.

As he crept forwards, however, Imesen became aware of a shuffling sound ahead. Quickly, he stooped low and kept his crossbow at the ready, narrowing his eyes. At the bottom of the stairs, oblivious of his presence, there shuffled a skeleton carrying a rusted sword and iron shield. Imesen managed to catch his breath, his heart slamming. Already he had encountered an undead, and one that he would have serious problems fighting. Skeletons were perhaps the worst possible enemy he could face; while he could easily pierce a zombie's rotting flesh with a bolt and drop it, a skeleton's design made it far more difficult for Imesen to land a solid shot.

There was one chance that might save the boy. Narrowing his eyes, he brought his crossbow to bear and whistled lightly. Despite the fact that it lacked ears, the skeleton turned its grinning skull towards him, and after a moment, it charged forwards. Imesen merely stayed calm, keeping the monster sighted as it charged up the stairs. When it was about five feet away, he pulled the trigger of his crossbow, and the bolt shot forth. It slammed into the head of the skeleton, and the skull flew off, bouncing down the stairs as the rest of the body collapsed. Imesen sighed with relief as he reloaded his crossbow, keeping his stance low as he resumed his prowl through the ruins.

((Note: The name of this ruin, as stated above, is Fanacasecul. Look it up if you're curious about its design.))

[Camthalion]

Yggdrasil sat in the western hall of Fanacasecul on a stone bench. He was running his hands over a welkyd stone, feeling the cool heat of the magicka. The thrum of the magicka caressed his fingers, making them warm in the dank, damp ruin there home had become. The light of the stones reflecting in his eyes gave them a strange glow. A small smile crept up on his face as he mutterd in bosmeri. He stood up and pocketed the stone in a sepereate sack from the rest of his things.

yggdrasil frowned a bit as he walked by the remains of the undead in this room. He should clean it up undead were known to ‘come back’. hence the term undead, so he preceeded to gather all the pieces into a pile and he then ignited it. With flame from a torch not magical, as that would defeat the purpose. He watched the flames grown and die quickly. He raiesd an eyebrow at the bones they were chared and red tipped still hot. The bones were so brittle and dry they burnt easily.

He left the burning bones and wraith cloths finish on there own as he bent to read carvings on a stone pillar. First runnign his fingers allong the elegent decorative carvings. Then he proceeded to read the language carved into the side of the pillar.

The carvings told about the life of a small group of hidden survivors of the ayleid purges. The ayleidood lived there lives quietly, making people think the ruins were haunted and cursed. On how they lost hope of ever leaving and fleeing to were the rest of the ayleid’s fleed after the rebellion and later still the purges. Of loosing contact with the hidden city Abagarlas, the city dedicated to light and life. Yggdrasil’s eyes sadened when he read about hidding from troops sent to investigate, on how they were found…

yggdrasil got up and walked away from the pillar. A sad look in his eyes, he was not fond of the imperials for many reasons. He brought out his lute and wanted to play a song that hadn’t been herd int hese halls for many, many years. Maybe lay the souls of those trapped in here to rest. He wasn’t thinking about the walking skeletons he was simply thinking of restless spirits those who just wonder. Ones that you know are there but can not see. Maybe it would help them, he started to play an ayleid lament.

yggdrasil’s fingers glided of the strings of his intrusment, creating a sound a kin to water. Slow and steady yet mournful for those forever trapped in these tall ivory halls. Even more so for those who were trapped in the unreachable, destroyed sections of the cities.

it was at this time the sound of music awoke the smoky gray wolf varlais. Who brought his head up at his companions ability. But the curious look vanished as he laid his head back down, with a sigh. And re- adjusting himself to a comfortable position on the floor. And closed his eyes once again, going to sleep. He needed rest as his one front leg was bandaged up. As Varlais got hit with a nasty fireball earlier.

yggdrasil brought the lament to a close, he let out a breathe as he placed the lute back with the bags he had brought. A piece fo charcol and paper and made a rubbing of the carvings. He would take them back to his home in Abagarlas and write down what he found and maybe bring it too someone… maybe get the sad story published. It was historical. As few people besides the last surviving ayleid’s and there friends knew how to speak it and fewer still the write and understand it.