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Seeking Perfection VII

Started by Idriar
Post #82572

Likes Given: 206
Likes Received: 633
Faction & Race:
Aldmeri Dominion (Altmer)
Seeking Perfection

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Never before Andarcya had seen so many non-Altmers in one spot. Of course she had, but she didn´t perceive the Goblins, Orcs and other slaves as sentient beings. They were like furniture to her. But these strangers were else. The black eyed, short Bosmer with their primitive, though sophisticated clouthings of leather, fur and bones amazed her just like the feline Khajiit wearing wide clouths of silk, over and over adorned with gold – atleast the ones on two legs. The foreign armors interested her most. Whenever she saw a warrior she examined the strange armors of bone and chitin, the mails of interwoven leather and other pieces of armor, she wondered whether they actually protected the wearer effectively. She had no eyes for the haven of glass or the proud armada of triremes and three-prowed katamarans.

Without noticing, Andarcya entered the foreign quarters. They were not located on the isle, but on a large platform of crystal set upon rocks in front of the shore. Having Bosmer or Khajiit living and housing upon the Blessed Isles would have been... an affront. Wondering why the houses were made of primitive stone and wood, Andarcya suddenly smelled sweat, spicery and other strange scents, totally new sensations to her senses as she walked through the mass on the major market place, having the feeling of being crowded the very first time. She had been in larger groups of people before and there were actually only few people on the market, but the ones who were there acted... so oddly. Market criers praised their goods, even louder as commands had been shouted at Andarcya during her military training. Even if they tried to step aside, Andarcya was bumped at several times, but she was too overwhelmed by the unreal sight, she couldn´t get angry. The crowd pushed her over the market. A Bosmer yelling at a Khajiit, something about a delayed wood shipment... a smith hammering onto a bone, fragments flying through the air... a Khajiit vendor pouring a sack of salt over crates full of meat, Andarcya could smell the blood and pending rot.

The concept of a market place was odd to the Aldmeri society.

Finally, with a fast beating heart, Andarcya stood in a small side street between two buildings, one of stone, the other of nontransparent glass. She turned around, facing the market. Materialism! She couldn´t remember how she got here! Atleast she was out of that crowd again. Relieved Andarcya leaned to the wall of stone and took a deep breath. So many strange people... she couldn´t imagine the continent, on which only few to none Altmer lived. And these were most likely banished dissidents, criminals or heretics. Like her father. She bit on her lips. This place was nearly unbearable. And her father had to suffer in a place much worse than this. Her fist hit on the stone, letting small chunks flying around. She simply had to rescue him!

"Bloddy hell, who summoned that Golden Saint? Where is that shonky conjurer responsible for her? That Daedric Sheila is tearing down my tavern!"

With surprise and shock Andarcya turned around. Did somebody say... Golden Saint? Calling her, Andarcya, a Deadra? A buxom little Bosmer woman in a nearly order violating bodice stood in a door frame of the stone building, holding a couple of empty mugs and watching Andarcya suspiciously.

"Hey you, Daedra! Stop that piffle! Who has summoned you?"

Every word cut like a thousand blades. No doubt, the woman was talking to her. It had been over fifty years since the last time Andarcya had been called names like this. Even if Andarcya knew that this woman wasn´t really insulting her, for she didn´t know her, it hurted to be mistaken for a Golden Saint. This little woman. As short as an Altmer child. Like the children that teased her. Offended her. Called her names. She hoped to have overcome these memories. But she didn´t. It all came back to her.

Golden Saint.



These were the names her infantile and later adolescent peers gave her. Not only for her strange-shaped eyes of glowing orange, the iris nearly covering the whole eye and the pupils being no spots but wavy lines crossing the irises horizontically. But also for her father Ruwenmar crafting dozens and hundreds of pictures of a Golden Saint, always the same individual, eventually depicting himself, courting the fair Daedra. The rumour was spread that Ruwenmar traveled to the Shivering Isles, the damned realm of the Mad God, where he fell in love with one of the Aureals, finally resulting in the birth of her, Andarcya.

No! That was not true! Andarcya sniffed, looking to the ground, trying to hide her tears. She was no Half-breed! She was as pure as an Altmer could be!

"What did you call me?"

She could feel the anger raising. When she was just a child of one hundred, she would have simply beat up that brats who teased her. Even if it violated the law, childish brawls were tolerated on Alinor. But Andarcya was an adult now. It did not behove her to beat somebody up. Besides, she knew that this Bosmer was just afraid, believing her to be a Golden Saint. But her hand slowly moved to the hilt of her sword and her feet slowly moved her towards the Bosmer.

Andarcya raised her head, her eyes stared like glowing embers at the female Bosmer.

"What did you call me?"

The Wood Elf raised her hands, mugs fell to the ground. Lights of unreal colours flared around the tavernkeeper´s hands as she prepared a spell.

"Don´t try anything, Daedra! Or I will unsummon you and your little trip to Nirn ends right here."

But Andarcya wouldn´t listen. Instead, she made another step towards the Wood Elf.

"I´m no Daedra, stupid mortal!"

Andarcya yelled at the Bosmer, drawing her sword. The anger had overwhelmed her so quickly, it was like someone else was controlling her, playing her like puppet. She didn´t want to yell, she didn´t want to hurt.

"That´s it! Shove off, Daedra!"

A blast of reversed conjuration hit her. A veil of strange and unseen colours blurred the vision of her eyes. For a moment, only for a single moment so short, she later wondered whether she experienced or imagined it, for a moment she had a strange, but somehow familiar feeling. It felt like something was dragging her upwards, into the sky, into the void. But the moment after the veil broke and only her tears blurred her sight.

Andarcya swang her sword blindly, screaming in frustration, hoping it wouldn´t kill the Bosmer.

The woman screamed. Another blast of magic hit Andarcya. And another. And another.

"Bloddy Hell! Why. Can´t. I. Banish. You!?"

Blinded by the spells Andarcya felt her sword hit something.

The Bosmer screamed.

Andarcya closed her eyes.

"I am no DAEDRA!"

Andarcya panted heavily. Slowly she opened her eyes, afraid to see something unpleasent. The Bosmer woman looked terrified and confused up to her, crouching and hiding behind the door frame. Andarcya looked to the other side, the perfect wall of nontransparent glass.

Her sword was stuck into it. The blade went deep, up to the eagle-shaped crossguard.

"You... You are an Altmer? "

The anger was gone. All what left was the knowledge of nearly having killed someone. With a last strenous effort she pulled her sword out of the glass wall, creating a mosaic of shards and shivers were there once was a perfect plane wall. She staggered back and leaned to the wall of stone.

"Bloody Hell! You are an Altmer!"

"What... Yes. I´m... a mortal... an Altmer."

She could see the fear in the Bosmer´s face intensify.

"I've... I´ve casted magic against you. Y'ffre! I attacked an Altmer! I´m... I´m... sorry! I did not know! Please! Gander! I have a family here! Please don´t let them ban me! Or throw me into Gaol! My children need me."

Andarcya bit on her lips as the Bosmer was bowing at feet. She was thaught that this was the way it should be, but it just didn´t feel right... Andarcya pushed her shoulders against the stone wall, looking down guiltily on her sword.

"Tell no one of this."

The woman looked up to her, the black eyes filled with tears.

"Go... back inside. Close the door. Forget what just happened."

Andarcya averted her eyes as the Bosmer revealed two rows of sharpened teeth while flinging her face to a smile.

"Thank you! By Y'ffre! May you ever eat fresh meat!"

Proping herself to the wall, Andarcya pointed to the door.

"I... I... I will go back to yacka..."

Just as the little Bosmer entered the door frame, she was pushed aside by a running Khajiit from the inside holding both paws over his bleeding face. The Bosmer wanted to say something, but a look at Andarcya made her finally enter and close the door, locking it up. Andarcya sighed. Partly from her deeds, partly because she recognized the Khajiit.

"This one needs to see a healer!"

The Khajiit's face and most of his clothing was covered in blood. Still she could tell it was him, by his voice and his pink muzzle.

"By the... god anchestors! What has happened... did you get into a brawl?"

S'Girr turned around, surprised to hear that voice in this place again. He raised his hands, and blood ran from his nose as he made a greeting gesture.

"No, no. This one did fight with no one."

Andarcya thought to see some sparkling particles around the Khajiit´s muzzle and in his blood.

"This one snuffed a pinch of solidified sunlight."

"What? Why... What?"

"Gzalzi vaberzarita maaszi. S'Girr hates moon sugar. But S'Girr is hungry for it. So S'Girr has to find something else..."

Andarcya had to laugh. Her head felt to so heavy and so light in the same moment. She just nearly killed someone and could laugh soon after. Was this really happening?

"And you... thought solidified sunlight to be a proper... replacement for moon sugar?"

"Don´t mock about S'Girr! This one lost blood and is still bleeding. This one needs to get to his ship to see the healer there! He knows S'Girr and will help S'Girr."

Suddenly Andarcya was serious again. The Khajiit needed help. And even if he just was a Betmer, she would help him.

"I will bring you there. Just wait a mo..."

Andarcya pushed herself off of the wall... and fell onto S'Girr, too weak to stand.

"Argh! What´s wrong with Altmera!? This one thinks that this one is not the only who has to see a healer."

It was the shock. The shock of nearly ending a live, even if it was one of a lesser race. It was against all of her personal ethic standards. She could hardly stand and her sword fell out of her hand. What kind of warrioress was she, that it shook her like this? In all the hundred years of her life, in the one hundred fifty years of her Military service, she had never killed anything. And now? How would she be supposed to travel the continent, a place most dire, full of violence? She needed someone who knew the continet... a guide maybe?

S'Girr got up, pushing Andarcya´s body off of his own. He braced himself and raised Andarcya´s much taller body covered in heavy armor of gold and solidified sunlight and leaned her against the wall. While he did, blood stained Andarcya´s armor.

"I... don´t need your help..."

"This one thinks that is not true. And this one want´s to come out of your debts."

"You are not in my debts..."

Andarcya did not see the cold smile on the Khajiit´s face.

"Fine... then you are in the debts of S'Girr, now."

S'Girr grouned as he lifted Andarcya, her left arm over his shoulder. It wasn´t easy for him as Andarcya was way taller than him, to carry her like this. Heading for the markert and the way down to the harbour while supporting Andarcya his nose still didn´t stop bleeding. Andarcya was ashamed that the Khajiit helped her. But she was glad she would not lie nearly unconscious in the dark side street in the foreign quarters.

"Altmera hasn´t yet told S'Girr her name."

Andarcya Answered automatically.

"... 141 RK 91..."

She knew that she would regain her strenght again, soon. How long could it possibly take to overcome this sudden shock? Even before they would reach S'Girr´s ship, it would be her carry him, as S'Girr, would suffer from blood loss. But until then, Andarcya closed her eyes.
This post was last modified: October 31st 2013, 03:16 AM by Idriar

Who controls the Septim crown?
Who keeps the Allesian Heresy down?
We do, we do

Who knocked Yokuda off the maps?
Who keeps the Dwemer under wraps?
We do, we do

Like this post Reply
The following 1 user likes Idriar's post:
Post #109787

Likes Given: 206
Likes Received: 633
Faction & Race:
Aldmeri Dominion (Altmer)
slightly updated

Who controls the Septim crown?
Who keeps the Allesian Heresy down?
We do, we do

Who knocked Yokuda off the maps?
Who keeps the Dwemer under wraps?
We do, we do

Like this post Reply

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