Wildborn

[Ysarth the watcher]

Hi guys! I have decided that I must start a Skyrim-based fictional book/thread based on my character. Any criticism is appreciated. Enjoy!

Chapter 1

The ground was cold and smooth. Many people, who looked like his mom and dad, were running around. A roar deafened his ears. He sat on his haunches and cried like he had never before, for the thundering sound from the sky shook the earth and attacked his ears viciously. He could feel the tears run down his smooth cheeks, feeling like ants going up and down, tearing off pieces of his eyes and carrying them back to their home. The stones were hard and dug into into the soft skin on his toes and feet. He looked up. Through the blurred vision he saw people running about like flies being chased from their rotting meat. Another roar, but this time is was a background noise to the loud ringing that now dominated the inside of his innocent, pointed ears. The tears obscured the dancing of blurred flames which he now saw; dancing as if filled with joy, but that could not be so, for all he felt was pain and the ringing was horrible.
Ysarth sat down and wished to cry a thousand times over but his tears were no longer there and something dark had just perched itself onto an object near his face. A crow? It was a dark-coloured creature, looked much like a crow and it was almost close enough to touch, if he wished.
He realised he was wrong for it was not a crow, and the roar it let out sounded nothing like any bird could ever make. Nor was it close, but far up, perched upon a tower top and the creature was big.
Suddenly, a hand gripped tightly around his tiny arm and jerked him up to his feet. He looked up to see a woman he remembered; a friend of his mother. She said something, but what it was he could not tell, only that her lips moved while she looked at him; the ringing drowned out whatever words sang from her mouth. She began pulling him forward. His legs barely kept up. He saw brown gates coming closer and he could feel the heat of the happy flames following behind him closely.

 

[Cerodyn]

This is really great! Very descriptive. Keep going with this, I think it'll turn into an awesome storyline.

 

[Teomner]

Great start to a greate tale in the making, keep up the good work.

 

[Ysarth the watcher]

Chapter 2

Farsil, who he now remembered as the woman who had pulled him from the dancing flames, held his tiny hand gently. Her hands were soft and warm but felt like manacles on his own; manacles that gave him assurance.
'Come little one. Once we reach the border to Skyrim we'll be safe, for many of our kin reside there.'
Her words sang from her lips like the birds of morn and whisked away the roar that still deafened his mind.
Fire
Roar
Fire
Heat
Scars that will emboss his memory with images of both fear and awe.

It was still early in the day but a chill crept in, almost as if it was signalling the arrival of night. Ysarth shivered despite wearing thick clothes and the warmth of her hand. He noticed how fewer birds he heard now that they were leaving the place where his mother and father had raised him. The same mother and father whose bodies either burned to ash or remained flesh and bone intact but lifeless just hours ago. He missed them so, and the tears had not stopped.
He felt her stop and she knelt down next to him, raising the waterskin to his pink lips.
'Drink, little one. There is sufficient water for both you and I for a long while.'
His golden-green eyes still glazed from the tears, he coughed and spat a bit when he had his fill of water. He felt so small in a world so strange and mystical where the only friend he had was the woman, although he did feel somewhat comfortable out in the wilds; this had always mystified his mother and father.

Not far up the road, four people appeared who were unusually red and shiny. She looked at him, meeting his eyes which had now dried up. She let go of his hand and stepped forward. Suddenly, Ysarth felt alone again. Her assurance was gone and his hand grew cold. The men he had seen earlier had faces that seemed unhappy. They wore steel clothes of a yellow-like colour whilst red cloth hung from their waist to their knees. Farsil looked unhappy too. She exchanged words in a tongue unfamiliar to Ysarth but he could tell, from her tone, she was angry.
Confused, alone and suddenly cold, Ysarth began to wail and cry. Tears leaped from their hiding spots from his eyes and his mouth trumpeted the distinct sound of child-wailing.
Then came a similar cry in the distance which caused him to stop in surprise. Then a few more cries much like it sounded straight after the first. The red men and Farsil glanced from Ysarth to the area surrounding them. They were scared, including her.
The first came from the side of the one red man. It was a grey beast with four legs that let out a sound much like that made by his father when he was asleep. Then came another suchlike beast followed by many others.
Ysarth cried. Confusion, fear and doubt enshrouded him, and then, black.

 

[Ysarth the watcher]

Chapter 2 continued

Ysarth touched the leaf of the plant gently, his pudgy fingers lingering down its length, testing its smoothness. Its green colour was eye-peasing, natural and made him stare at its beauty, its pride, for a long time.
Ysarth, return inside the house my child.
He turned to see a faceless woman standing in the doorway, holding a sword towards him pommel first
Take it, child, and return home.
Suddenly, the feeling of fur brushed against his leg. Ysarth looked down to see the 'smile' of a white wolf. It spoke with a female voice so soft, almost inaudible, yet so sweet and pleasing.
Do not take the sword, my little one. Listen, for I am The mother. Your mother. Return to me. I have purpose and life for you. If you take the sword, I will disappear.
The visage of the faceless woman was now a man's masked by a helm. 'She' was now holding the sword, blade pointed towards the wolf.
Ysarth tried to kneel down and stroke the wolf, feel it's white coat, feel it's perfect beauty, but the wolf leapt away from him and was ontop of the man with the sword, looking back with a maw jeweled with scarlet. It spoke to him again.
Little one, I will give you life.
With that, the wolf stood on its hind legs and was surrounded by a blinding light. Ysarth shielded his face and returned to see a woman with white hair like that of the wolf she was. She was wrapped in a thin, white cloth, barley covering her slim body that gleamed in the sunlight, or was she the sun itself? She stroked his cheek and Ysarth collapsed.

---​

​

His eyes opened slowly, their amber-green colour stark against the white, and raised his head. The sky was an unusual dark blue, clouds gathered in its presence and the sun was paused from shining.​

Something nudged his leg slightly and Ysarth looked down to see a wolf's back pressed against him. It was asleep. Its ears were flat and its flanks rose and fell with rhythm. He gasped slightly, turning to see more wolves around him, all asleep except for one that raised its head and ears to look at Ysarth before returning to its slumber.​

The grass pressed softly against the underside of his legs and arms. He rested his head again, feeling unusually safe, protected. The clouds swam in the dark-sea and the sun still was not allowed to show. He listened to the breathing of the beasts alongside him and to the few birds which chatted in the nearby trees; to the slow trickling of some stream. The warmth of the wolfs body caressed his little body back to sleep, his eyes closing not with fear or fatigue, but rather with a sense of safety, comfort.​