ES short stories

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ES short stories Empty ES short stories

Post by Ebony on Thu Nov 13, 2014 11:48 am

So when im bored i write fanfic for Elder Scrolls I might post my massive story later but for the moment enjoy my random short stories :3c

"Ho Ho Ho he he he! Break that lute across my knee, and if the bard should choose to fight well then I'll set his clothes alight!" Ziira smiles at Ciceros antics. After kit remembered who kit was kit got used to his constant bouncing. And murderous antics. "Oh Listener! Where are we going Listener?"
"These ones are going to Whiterun Cicero darling. To see the Circle." Now Ziira never had liked the Circle, kits oath lies with the Brotherhood, but kit tolerates them. They leave kit alone and kit gives them Intel. Kit smiles as they pass the guards, showing off a flash of long fangs. Kit loves to scare them. "First these ones will go to the inn, get some drinks. Would Cicero like that?"
"Oh yes Listener, yes, yes, yes!" He bounces and claps his hands happily. Kit takes his hand and takes him to the inn. Lovely quaint place it is. Kit prefers kits home in Morrowind, but this is still a good place. Kit smiles and plops down at the bar. "Hello there beautiful." Kit grins disarmingly, using a small amount of magic to make her calm. Kits presence unnerves most people so kit tries kits best to make them less likely to bolt. It was truly as he said though, kit walks as a lion amongst sheep.
"What'll it be darlin?"
"Just an ale. And Cicero, where did he go?" Kit glances around, slightly worried. Kit notices him in the corner dancing, all will be well then.
"How about your friend?"
"He'll have the same." Ziira sips the ale slowly, been too long since kit had had mortal food. Damn did kit miss it. Ziira closes kits eyes and breathes slowly, really unnecessary but Ah well, smelling in familiar scents. The sweetness of the ale and mead. The sweat and blood of humans. That underlying scent of fear, fear without knowing they are afraid. And damn well they should be afraid. Kit is the Listener of multiple generations. The Hero of Kvatch. The nerevarine. The Champion of Cyrodill. The Madgod. The Dragonorn. Kit has titles in all places, inspiring fear wherever kit goes. Kit regrets this sometimes but kit usually doesn't care. Kit breathes in deeply as a certain metallic smell takes to the air. Blood. Fresh, spilt blood. Ziiras eyes snap open.
"Cicero!" Kit turns and bounces up quickly. Kits moves completely fluid and inhuman. Kits tail lashes as kit pulls out a sword. Cicero being himself killed yet another innocent. They stare in shock briefly, oh how these mortals are like sheep. Dumb and slow. One screams and then a "warrior" attempts to bring down Cicero. No, kit does not want to kill innocents usually. Kit detest them but kit is supposed to protect them. But no one hurts Kits mad jester. Blood lust is a fun thing. Kit giggles and rips out throats as kit does. In a few moments everyone in the inn except Cicero and Ziira are dead. Albeit Ziira is already dead. Slowly kit licks the blood from kits sword. "Hehe come on Cicero, the Circle is waiting."

tw selfharm:
she would paint a lovely picture but there's a shocking twist. The paintbrush is a lighter and the canvas is her wrist...
Dark Poet

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