skyrimkinkmeme (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
skyrimkinkmeme) wrote2011-10-29 12:36 pm
skyrimkinkmeme) wrote2011-10-29 12:36 pm
Meme Announcements!
ANNOUNCEMENTS: UPDATED 12/16/2017
Happy Holidays, fellow Kinkmemers! I have returned and have no reasonable excuse for my absence except LIFE. I will be working on updating the archives. If anyone sees anything amiss, please let me know.
I am also hoping to find another Mod and an Archivist.
The more dedicated people we have in this Meme the less chance of it dying. I admit that being the sole keeper of the Meme is not great for the fandom. If something were to happen to me, for good, this place would go the way of the Fallout Kink Meme. Let's not let that happen! If anyone would be interested in Modding/Archiving, please drop me a line. Thanks! <3
Re: Pre-Skyrim - Blood shall be my motto
(Anonymous) 2015-07-20 08:08 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Pre-Skyrim - Blood shall be my motto 1
(Anonymous) 2015-07-20 10:55 pm (UTC)(link)My road to Skyrim began before I was born. That is a statement that might sound impossible, but history have a tendency to put you in an action that forces you to react. I’ll try to keep it short:
My father, Shurain Salobar, always said that a man who is righteous and honest has more power in his silence that weaker men have in their words. When I was a child I thought that he always had lived his life true to his words. He was a humble man as far as I knew.
I was born in Firewatch, far away from the games of shadows at the council of Telvanni. I thought this was part of what my father meant by silence. Yes, he was a mage, a powerful one at that; once a warlock of the cult of Boethiah, belonging to a small fraction fighting the Almsivi. This was a dead cause, a dying remain from the war of the first council. A history that would give us both benefits and disfavour.
Father, being a veteran spellsword in an Imperial settlement at the coast of Morrowind, became wealthy on Imperial gold. When we moved to Cheydinhal, Cyrodiil, I never knew that it in reality was his history that finally forced us to flee. I was too young to remember and was fed with soothing lies. Sure, there were an ounce of truth in my mother’s words - father was far better paid in Cyrodiil for his services - and it might have ended at that, if not Morag Tong had reminded us about something else.
Much later I found out that my father died by the sword of a woman named Irileth.
Back then though, I didn’t know who to blame. I still understood the gravity of the situation, even though I didn’t have to ask.
Re: Pre-Skyrim - Blood shall be my motto 2 + tags
(Anonymous) 2015-07-21 06:23 pm (UTC)(link)Mother and I kept on living the life we’d gotten used to in our huge city house crawling with servants. Some days I wanted to leave because of the memories, other days I wanted to stay for the very same reason. My mourning was not like my mother’s; crying under the blankets in a pitch dark bedroom. I hid my pain in rage, used every waking moment to study the few tracks that had been left by the assassins of Morag Tong. Answers I didn’t get freely I stole, and I was so caught up in planning my revenge that my other studies were neglected. In retrospect I know my father would be disappointed with me if he’d been alive. I’d become a better thief than a mage.
And then the news reached us about the eruption of Dagoth Ur. I was still just a child; only eighteen years of age, yet I had no memories of Morrowind. The catastrophe reached my ears but didn’t mean more to me than the bad harvests that year or the ashy rains that fell over the eastern parts of Cyrodiil., while it marked my mother as if she’d left a part of her soul on the other side of the border. She became a hollow shell. I should have seen it, should have supported her.
Several decades later, we were out of money. I didn’t notice it at first, I was wrapped up in my own layers. I had finally reached a breakthrough in my investigations; found out who actually had held the blade that killed my father. Better yet - I knew where to find her now.
It all started with my mother complaining about the servants, and I should yet again have been there to support her. She told me that it was her right by birth to have slaves; “why is this frowned upon in Cyrodiil?”, and I only nodded, distant minded as always. One by one, the staff left our service and last to leave was our cook.
After that, her jewelry went missing; my father’s staves, our art and furniture followed shortly. Then one day my mother remarried, very abruptly, to a man I’d never met. A Dunmer like us - not that strange, since many of our kind lived in Cheydinhal at that time - but an ashlander. He was all new money, I could smell it on him, see it in the way he walked and the way he dressed. I didn’t like him and he didn’t like me, so I wasn’t surprised when he decided it was high time I got married. It had been high time for a long time. He and mother had even found me the perfect spouse. This was when I found out I had a cousin on my mother’s side. I never thought the day would come when I openly challenged my mother’s plans. If she wanted me to leave, all she needed was to say the word. Forcing me to marry a cousin, one that I hadn’t even met, made me furious. I still remember her reply:
“In our class no one marries for affections, dear.”
I told her that Morrowind was a stale remain of what might once had been a proud society, I told her that I was more Imperial than Dunmer, tried to convince her that I was capable of taking care of myself.
She didn’t agree and her word was law.
I stopped complaining though, when I understood that my cousin, Sondras Drenim, lived in Skyrim. So did another certain Dunmer, whose life I wished to end. Brutally.
Re: Pre-Skyrim - Blood shall be my motto 3
(Anonymous) 2015-07-21 08:08 pm (UTC)(link)The roads were bad and we travelled by horseback. I had never ridden a horse in my entire life before that day, and muscles that I didn’t know existed were painfully sore by nightfall. We kept to ourselves, stayed at small inns along the road and held a slow pace. The further north we came, the colder both the weather and the welcome.
The roads became less populated, the casual troop of Imperial soldiers passing or meeting us made me confused at first. My maid reminded me of something I’d accidentally had heard now and again for a couple of years but never thought much of: Skyrim had been and still was troubled by civil war. What I had thought to be my stepfather boasting was just him making sure I would reach my destination in one piece.
At the end of a snowy pass we reached a heavily guarded gate. On the other side of that was Skyrim. Just a day’s ride from the border I was supposed to find a small village called Darkwater Crossing, and here I would find my cousin Sondas.
He was a Drenim, at least by name. My mother were proud of her heritage; her grandfather being a member of the council in Ebonheart. Of course I expected my cousin to be a mage; why would my mother have thought this to be a reasonable arrangement if not? I could live with that, as long as I could keep on doing what I’d been doing for the past decades - reading and plotting that is.
I was starting to come to terms with this deal, and was again lost in my own thoughts.
And that’s when we were attacked by bandits. My horse bolted. I held on to the reins as hard as I could, lost grip of them when a tree branch almost brushed me off the horseback. I leaned forward, clinging on to the beast’s neck and mane, fearing for my life. I lost track of time, closed my eyes trying to still my beating heart. More branches ripped my face, my hair, my clothes and then the horse stopped. I tumbled over its neck and fell to the ground.
After that I remember nothing, until I woke up in that carriage towards Helgen.