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Foundation lore: 11th of Frostfall, 2E 575


Started by Nehemia
Post #9633
Contributor

335
Faction & Race:
Ebonheart Pact (Dunmer)
That evening, soldiers arrived at the gates of Bear-Arm estate, and they were greeted with delight. They brought news of an successful raid on vampire's nest located in a warehouse in Riften. Thane Horik marched forth to greet the highest ranking guard with a handshake. His expressions were full of joy, and the relief, the new bound feel of safety these guards, wearing the armor of Riften's guard brought him nothing but hope. Even though at the back of his mind, he was still concerned of the figure who kept appearing in the woods clearing behind his window for four nights in row.

A large camp fire was built in middle of the court yard. Guards, servants and scholars alike gathered around the fire for a feast. It seemed that the embers themselves danced along the vocal chords of the bard. The sun began to sat behind the hills, as mead filled the bellies of those not on duty. Horik excused himself from the merry folk, and walked to his quarters. He requested his House-Carl to accompany him. Upon arriving to Horik's quarters, he dusted the dust from his armor strapped to a mannequin, and threw it to his House-Carl, who stumbled to catch it. The stare they gave each other quickly turned the atmosphere to a more serious, stressful tone. House-carl, however how much he would have wanted to, made no arguments about what his Thane was about to do.

The day had turned into a night, and the darkness consumed the hold. If it wasn't for the newly fallen snow, the night would have been completely dark, as the Secunda gave little light to those who wander in the dark. Horik marched out of the gates, circled his estate and made his way towards the clearing. His House-Carl shut the gates of the estate behind him.

From a distance, he could see that the red eyed figure stood there, like it had for more than few nights in a row. As Horik approached the figure, it began to take shape, and to his surprise, it wasn't the treacherous Dunmer servant, but a Nord.

So, you have finally arrived. The mysterious character turns his head towards Horik. I would have initially thought a Nord's courage would have taken less moons to gather. Horik grumbled, unsheathed his sword and asked. Why is it you stalk us in the night? The figures smile turned into laughter, which he quickly allocated to words. Of a mere request, that will be of an mutual benefit.
Horik stepped closer as he assumed a fighting position. What could possibly benefit a Nord and an damned? The mysterious character tilted his head. That is where you are correct, I am cursed, cursed not to age, cursed with insatiable bloodlust, nor am I blessed with the chance to feast within the halls of Soverngarde. For this reason, I seek revenge. Horik lowered his sword in confusion.
The mysterious character unfolded his arms, and stretched them like a priest prior to making an blessing. The people of Riften are already in your dept, you vanquished the Foundation from Riften. Yet rats often return unless their nest is purged. Horik scratched his beard with his left hand. The Three and the One? after asking the question, he saw from the mysterious characters expression that he was correct. The mysterious character nods slowly. You seem to know more than I initially thought.. This is all so fascinating... I am in belief that you understand the difficulty of gaining the vital knowledge to destroy the Root. Yet, by fate or of an chance, I have learned the names of the Three, and of the One.

A long pause came between them, Horik had frozen as if the cold breeze from Hjaalmarch had turned his blood to ice. The mysterious character continued with a slow pace in his words. You see, I consider this, vampirism a curse, a curse I may not be capable of rid of. But his curse gave me the option to vanquish evil from within. You are destined to destroy the Three. Horik's pose began to waver in doubt. Why would you aid me? The mysterious character shook his head.

My reasons are my own. But the following are the Three of Foundation. Sond of Windhelm, a notored blacksmith represents the first Corner, he is the Lord of Drannok, The Keeper of the Code and its upholder. It was his servant who stole the page from you.
The second Corner, Argritte the Cunning, The Spymaster of the Foundation, Mistress of Strigoi. She resides here in the Hold, as a paying customer in the Wayfare Inn. Supposedly a bard.
The mysterious character laughs. She can't even sing.
Horik did not participate the attempt to turn the note of discussion from serious to less lightened conversation between friends. The mysterious character coughs and continues. And for the third Corner, The High Overseer, the master of the Feast, Lord of Belgosh. He works as a healer in Whiterun. If I recall correctly, by the name of Kjar World-Healer. When the mysterious character finishes his sentence, he places his hand in his pocket, grabs a small scroll and drops it to the ground. Without a word, the mysterious nord turned around and began walking away, waving a good bye with back of his left hand. Horik, still in confusion, stared at the back of the cursed nord as he slowly disappeared to the night.

After a brief moment, he quickly jumped to the ground and opened the sealed scroll. Within the scroll were the previously mention names of the Three, and what seemed to be a riddle.

Four pillars are attached to the foundation of a shrine,
the one is the main support, a large pillar in the middle.
The other three are placed along within an triangular formation,
The three keep the sides of the shrine intact,
but if they are to fall, the main pillar will still stand, and the shrine can be rebuilt.
Yet, once the three supports of the main pillar are gone,
the last is weakened, and can fall even from the smallest push.
A Shrine without pillars can have no roof, and it is inevitable that the roof will fall upon the one who brought down the last of the four pillars.


Horik glanced at the night sky, it is as if the constellation of the Serpent had grown slightly during his absence from the feast.



Come, Unstoppable Eraser Rain
Throat Adder | Societas Daemonica
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