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The Son of Han-Sul

Started by Idriar
Post #167000

Likes Given: 206
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Aldmeri Dominion (Altmer)
The Son of Han-Sul

Part One

The Siege Crawler lies behind you, and Bruma-Chey is still afar. Little Poetry whispers softly into your ear.

[Image: l0IxLIW.png]

Not many people had been in the cave. But the few had been enough to fill the cavern with living noises: the laughter and crying of children, the hammers of some workers, noises of animal who didn´t need to hide from predators and of course the Men-o-Mer at the market, shouting their souls out of their body to sell their wares. And of course the echo of them all, created in the ribs and legs of the Crawler. And the echo filled the air and everything between the ground, bones and the ominous Daedruc tissue. The air was alive. A village in a machine of death. This fact was enjoyed by little Poetry. In former times, Daedra worshippers had been executed by the Empire in front of the Siege Crawler's carcass. Dagon understood this as a form of sacrifice but then the Force Era ended. Survivors hid under the massive body of the monster and stayed there when things were over. Now they lived here and the Prince of Destruction was not happy. Little Poetry loved this change and mocked the Dagon and Ganta Han-Sulsson loved the place for it was a village.
Ganta nearly had forgotten how it was to walk among many. He had missed that, and he did bath in the masses of maybe forty or fifty persons on the market before he left the cave and returned to his guar. Do not mistake Ganta East-Rider for a lonely person though.

He travels and has his true guar under him and little Poetry in him. Boethia by any other name, who came as spirit of childish competion and challenge, a laughing and innocent voice. Poetry nestled itself into the free spaces in Ganta´s head like a snake nestles itself between hot rocks in the desert sun of Haafingar. And its voice! Little kids would ask each other to play tag, hide and seek or challenge you to a race with this voice. Indeed, a lovely voice. Poetry asked not for children's games or childish competitions. It told Ganta to burn the place to the ground and to etch his name into the face of time. And it made promisses.
They would never forget Ganta. He and only he would be the man who burned the Siege Crawler Skeleton Cave down, he and no other. No oblivion for Ganta. No one would be able to take this from Ganta. Like so many other things. And Ganta would become immortal. Becam upsid down, beacon of time writing. Maybe even in the Elder Scrolls they would find a short passage about Ganta, his deeds and doings? And even if not, Ganta would have done it. He. Ganta. No other man. Forever. Unchangeable. A Daedra who did not change, but created something unchangeable? It was Poetry's dream. But it didn´t talk much about its motives. Only few images, few nouns, mostly verbs. A fundamental, terrible language which equalled thoughts Ganta couldn´t comprehend: change, change, challenge, change, survive, change, change, leave your mark on the world or I will leave my mark on you, change, change, challenge.

It broke Ganta's heart to deny this little voice's wishes. Ganta was no murderer, only a weapon wielder, even if that meant to disappoint Poetry. So the Crawler Cave reminded as it was. But Poetry didn´t ask him to kill people all the time: tear down this temple, chop this tree, grave your name into that rock, write GANTA WAS HERE everywhere, plant a tree, erect a temple in my name. Leave your mark on the world or I will leave my mark on you. On his way from the Telvanni Archipelago Ganta had piled up twelve stone pyramids, knocked over two standing stones, stole pearls from a giants camp, sunk five ships and organised a free style bard competition. All to please little Poetry in his head. The voice squeeled with glee at anything Ganta did. For he had changed the world forever. Even with a free style bard competition.

Right now, as Ganta was climbing on his guar, Peotry was bored. Riding always bored her. Traveling, despite making that Ganta was here and not there, did not change the world enough for it. But little Poetriy had caught a thought of Ganta and repeated it slowly. Boethia knew it very well, evertything, the known and the unknown things, but it was an asking child´s voice. So Ganta answered. The Elder Scrolls. A passage of Ganta's deeds. But all Elder Scrolls were gone. They were out of reach for the mortals. Why? Ganta explained it to little Poetry. When the Force Era ended, the heat and cold poles shifted. What? Boethia knew very well. A mage can turn Magicka into fire or ice. So does Nirn. Here it was hot, there it was cold. It was Magicka. Everyone knew how that worked (of the Telvanni). The hot places, deserts, jungles or ashlands were called heat poles. Places filled with ice were called cold poles. Fire poles are the opposite of ice poles. But where there once was a heat pole, now there was none. And also the cold poles moved freely over the face of the Mortal Plane. Everything changed, deserts, jungles, tundras. Even the sea was altered. It took years, decades for stability to return. Though, the Telvanni said the worst was still to come. Ganta didn´t knew if it could get any worse: the great ice continents did melt and the sea was filled and overflown. It flowed over all coasts. Mountains were now islands. The land was devastated by the movement and dance of fire and ice. Over Imperial city there now was a massive glacier in the middle of the Rumaric Ocean. Where there also are the Elder Scrolls under.
Molag Bal claimed this frozen place, for his name means "Fire Stone", which can also mean "Frozen Flame". The ancient dragon fires – dead before – are now frozen. Not really a reason to claim the city, but Molag Bal did not need to explain his doings to any other. He made his provisional throne in the chill city under the sea. Little Poetry didn´t like the mentioning of her Unbrother. Dagon didn´t provoke this reaction. But Boethia liked the Dagon, for he was change, too. Just a stupid outsider brute aswell. Ganta continued.
The Elder Scrolls were located in the heart of the Imperial Palace in the heart of the Imperial city. Which was dry and protected from the water masses by an energy shield of sorts. There was Molag's throne in the center, close to White-Gold. It was guarded by terrible and beatiful mostrosities, cold, low and vulgar. But not only Molag's minions did haunt the city dome under the sea and the ice: the worst dissident of all times, men of the noble Tharn clan, Jagar Tharn, Underking, rose from the dead and now ruled the six districts which were filled with undead. Atleast everyone said so. What was truth indeed was that the Imperial city was miles and miles, thousands of miles under the sea. And located under a massive glacier, a frozen continent. And under the icey surface there were the Jills, flying dragons from the future, sailing through it without breaking the ice and harvesting frozen time or laying their eggs. Ganta didn´t know that. And on the ice there lived terrible trolls, snow lions and penguins.

There was no way to get to the scrolls. But only Ganta believed that. And little Poetry uttered the secret sillable ORLY and she made Ganta change his plans with childish crying in his brain. Actually Ganta was travelling to Bruma-Chey. There he wanted to enroll at the G.W.W.. Maybe contracts for the True Temple of Talos or some important noble men from the MenTo(WE)rs would change the world and he could earn some coins while pleasing little Poetry. Now Poetry had other plans and her plans left a mark on Ganta.
Little Poetry made him believe the following: He, Ganta East-Rider, Ganta Han-Sulsson, was on an epic quest to retrieve all the Elder Scrolls. His cause was noble, for the people was in need of the Elder Scrolls. The Moths had to read them, read them all and tell the huddled masses of Bruma-Chey and all isles of Men-o-Mer what the troubled futures held for them. And it was Ganta's quest to save them from the future. But at first he had to save the Elder Scrolls. From Molag Bal, from Jagar Tharn, from the Underking, from the Jills, from the Penguins and if he had to from the Numidium.
But he as noble hero knew that he needed assistance. People and names from his past were conveniently brought to his mind by little Poetry. And they all lived in Bruma-Chey. Of course, for what other reason should he go there? Names and faces: Bahand, First-Born of the new era. Sailor Jone and Sailor Jode, two skoomad Khajiiti armor summoners. Armors which looked like ancient Altmeri schoolgirl uniforms. Jin-Reela, the camoflage scale, and her lover and slaver Lanub Arth-Noth. And Cesco Diademo, skull on a stick. They were all to find in Cherxebeb's Tavern in the Zen quarter of Bruma-Chey. Ganta didn´t know that. Poetry did. But Ganta smiled. Finally he would see this swearing old Dremora again. And Ganta would kill him and Cherxebeb would respawn. Like in the good old times.

And Ganta made his guar run. "Bruma-Chey," he - and Poetry - shouted,"here I come!"

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

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