cornering the truth like a fleeing stag

Steel Adept

Art for The Elder Scrolls: Legends

Chapter 42 - Come and See

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  The open gash in the earth that wore the name of Wolfskull Cave radiated noxious odors, foul, sickly stenches that warded off the wildlife. The cave skewed downwards into the dark, shadow sloshing against stone.    The Altmer's pulse ran thick in their ears as skeletons, armed with weapons and shields, obscured the entry. The bones patroled, magicka thickly winding around their frames. If he squinted, Athenath could make out the way that leather and adhesives worked to help make their motions more fluid, as if they were held together by both mundane methods and spellwork. Emeros knelt in the bushes, Athenath's mind turning to the fight in Bleak Falls Barrow and the poison in his knapsack. If he turned and used it on the other two, would they survive? It was a powerful paralytic, Athenath knew enough from Wyndrelis' comment. If it were used on a living thing, how long until they would collapse, hearts coming to a slow and agonizing stop, lungs desperate until they could no longer fight the concoction?   "There's no sneaking around them. When I aim, I expect both of you to be prepared," Emeros instructed in a grim hush, Wyndrelis flexing magicka into his palm, veins beginning to gleam the faintest shade of blue. Athenath placed a hand on the hilt of Dawnbreaker. Emeros nocked his arrow, waiting for the best shot with hawk-like concentration. One of the figures continued to pace, but another came to a halt and seemed to be waiting for something, but what, Athenath couldn't place. He slowly peeled Dawnbreaker from the scabbard, Wyndrelis' other hand on his mace.

Shout out to fanfic writers who write short fanfics.

Shout out to fanfic writers who don’t write often.

A potion not as a magical balsam to wash your wounds away but as a violent catalyst that forces your body to push past its limits if only for a few seconds, exhausting your every reserve with the sole aim of survival, to be taken only in case of utmost emergency

Healing not as in beautiful restoration but as your body crudely piecing itself together guided by a not quite unnatural force, sewing together a menagerie of tissue that's only half functional but that's good enough because it's either this or bleeding out on the floor

Regeneration not as a warm light recreating matter ex nihilo but as an invasion, muscle swelling and stretching and splitting to make room to connect and organs you didn't even know could develop cirrhosis ending up half made of scar tissue and newborn blood vessels wriggling like maggots in the gaps of your flesh to carry the magic wherever it needs to be until there's nowhere left to go