CapObvious
A Rotten Scroungeral
Will do!
Here is a post showing the constant conflict between Dolmas and Valen. I can change it to post including Krisandra, if you'd rather. Just say the word!
Dolmas sat in the dark corner of his new cell, his legs folded with his hands on his knees. He straightened out his back and exhaled, trying to keep his body peaceful in his final moments. His mind was clouded, as he kept himself from killing and feeding for days. He was determined to make this work. He was determined to make this cell his tomb.
He opened his eyes to study the cell again, which had already felt the wrath of Dolmas' baser side. The walls were clawed and marked deep. Around those were the markings of a madman, Valen's handiwork, no doubt. He could see his clothes and weapons beyond his cell door, across from him in a chest. He didn't need them where he was going anyway. He took another look at the dark room around him and nodded to himself. This dismal place was fitting for a murderer.
For a monster.
His superb focus, even in the face of death, waned a little, and as a result, two figures entered his cell. But by now, Dolmas had chalked them up as hallucinations, brought on by either his hunger or his madness. But these figures were more than just that. These were the other two sides to Dolmas.
One was the embodiment of his insanity, and darkness of mind. He stood as the one who would kill, maim, or destroy the world, at the drop of a septim. This was Valen, waylayer of lives, families, and anything that Dolmas had ever loved. His form was a mirror of Dolmas himself, as they were truly one.
The other was the embodiment of violence, and blood-thirst. It him who truly loved to see little Dolmas squirm. He took the form of the wolf; of the curse set upon him by one of those Daedric bastards who promised to help with the blood-lust.
Both of them watched Dolm intently, each one waiting for the poor bastard to finally crack. But he sat solemnly, waiting for the end.
But with one noise, the figures left and Dolmas' ear twitched.
"Lise, we shouldn't have run! They needed us back there!" Dolmas' left eye twitched, and another voice rose against the first. "You saw what happened to the captain. They left him in there to die. I'm not about to let them to do that to me. Now go downstairs and make sure we're alone. I don't want to go out fighting some simple bandits."
They were going to come downstairs. No! Dolmas began to pace the floor, distraught. He could see this playing out a thousand different ways, but all ended with the death of the two upstairs. There was no way around it.
The sound of a door creaking and footsteps pounding the floor urgently woke something within Dolmas, and he began to lose control of himself. Valen was appearing.
He didn't begin to fall apart. He didn't try to shift into the beast. No. Valen was indeed crazy, but also cunning. He had a plan. And it began with the girl who was now inches away from his cell door.
A young Nord woman stepped out from the shadows, staring at the worn and hungry elf now peering back at her through the bars. A look of pity stained the poor woman's rather beautiful face, but soon, that wouldn't be the only thing.
The woman spoke to him, instead of her friend upstairs. Interesting. So she wished to die alone.
"Are you alright? Why are you locked in here?" The woman questioned innocently, her hands lightly grasping the bars. Valen began to weave a story out of nothing. A crafty trait that came naturally to him. He stepped away and looked to the ground, acting the part. "I'm not sure. I came here looking for supplies with a friend of mine. We had run out of food. Hoped there was some in here." He made a pitiful look to sell the story, and he could see the woman was starting to feel the sadness he was fabricating. "We were waylay-ed by bandits. They beat me, locked me up in here. They took my friend somewhere else but...I could hear her screaming from..." Valen clutched his face and began to cry.
The woman had heard enough. She scanned the bars thoroughly, then looked over to the chest. A key found its way into her hands and she scrambled for the door. "Don't worry, I'll get you out of there and we'll see if we can find her."
This was just too easy.
Valen nodded and waited for the door to open, then headed straight for his things. He muttered thanks when he could, trying to keep up the thankful prisoner act. "I don't think we'll find her. But thank you for at least wanting to try." He stepped away from the trunk, not sheathing his sword. The woman had turned away, to give the elf privacy. She wouldn't have time to regret it.
He stepped up behind her and clutched her to him. With one, stiff motion, he dragged his blade across her throat, slowly and painfully. He listened and felt joy as the screams pierced the air, then slowly died.
The force of the shriek awoke Dolmas from within, and he wrestled power back from Valen, but it was too late. He fell to his knees and wept. He clutched the unknown woman's body to him, and held it. He apologized over and over. To her, to her friend upstairs, to her family who were probably waiting at home. He had absolutely lost it.
Rushing footsteps came up from behind him, and a loud gasp broke the silence. He turned to see a larger nord man, his sword drawn and pointed at him. This must have been Lise. The man looked to the elf, than to his friend, who was now dead. A great roar came from him as he dropped his sword and grabbed Dolmas by the collar. He dragged him across the room and slammed him into the bars, the walls, anything with a flat surface that seemed hard enough to hurt. He paused to look the now bloodied elf in the eye. "Are you crazy, elf?!"
Magic words. Dolmas' eyes got serious, and he looked into the man before him. "You have no idea."
The elf began to shift in the man's hands, all the while undressing the best he could . The man quickly let go, out of shock as well as the disgusting feeling as he felt the elf's bones shift inside his hands. The elf grew in size, and each of his limbs grew tougher and harrier as the guard looked on in fear and disgust.
The freshly transformed elf growled, not looking at the man.
Then, without any sign or warning the wolf leaped for the man and tossed him about the room like a rag-doll, making his bones crunch against the hard cold stone with every hard push. How did he like being slammed into things? Not so fun, huh?
Finally, his hunger getting the best of him, he stopped playing with his food and cleaned up the scraps. He dragged both bodies into the cell, then began his first meal in a long time.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dolmas finally got dressed and armed up. As he tied the fastens on the chest plating, he focused on what he was supposed to do next. He couldn't do the starvation thing again. He couldn't lock himself up or hide himself away, as people were to stupid to leave him be, and he was to crafty to stay locked away.
He had to leave here, though. This place marked a failure that pained Dolmas deeply. It proved that he was meant to survive any attempts to push away the "gifts" he had been given.
He felt as if he was cursed to walk nirn a tortured soul forever.
Maybe he was right.
Grabbing an apple off a table and taking a bite, he stepped out into the bright world, shielding his eyes from the sun. He played a quick game to figure out which direction to go, then began walking off toward the north. To Rorikstead.
Here is a post showing the constant conflict between Dolmas and Valen. I can change it to post including Krisandra, if you'd rather. Just say the word!
Dolmas sat in the dark corner of his new cell, his legs folded with his hands on his knees. He straightened out his back and exhaled, trying to keep his body peaceful in his final moments. His mind was clouded, as he kept himself from killing and feeding for days. He was determined to make this work. He was determined to make this cell his tomb.
He opened his eyes to study the cell again, which had already felt the wrath of Dolmas' baser side. The walls were clawed and marked deep. Around those were the markings of a madman, Valen's handiwork, no doubt. He could see his clothes and weapons beyond his cell door, across from him in a chest. He didn't need them where he was going anyway. He took another look at the dark room around him and nodded to himself. This dismal place was fitting for a murderer.
For a monster.
His superb focus, even in the face of death, waned a little, and as a result, two figures entered his cell. But by now, Dolmas had chalked them up as hallucinations, brought on by either his hunger or his madness. But these figures were more than just that. These were the other two sides to Dolmas.
One was the embodiment of his insanity, and darkness of mind. He stood as the one who would kill, maim, or destroy the world, at the drop of a septim. This was Valen, waylayer of lives, families, and anything that Dolmas had ever loved. His form was a mirror of Dolmas himself, as they were truly one.
The other was the embodiment of violence, and blood-thirst. It him who truly loved to see little Dolmas squirm. He took the form of the wolf; of the curse set upon him by one of those Daedric bastards who promised to help with the blood-lust.
Both of them watched Dolm intently, each one waiting for the poor bastard to finally crack. But he sat solemnly, waiting for the end.
But with one noise, the figures left and Dolmas' ear twitched.
"Lise, we shouldn't have run! They needed us back there!" Dolmas' left eye twitched, and another voice rose against the first. "You saw what happened to the captain. They left him in there to die. I'm not about to let them to do that to me. Now go downstairs and make sure we're alone. I don't want to go out fighting some simple bandits."
They were going to come downstairs. No! Dolmas began to pace the floor, distraught. He could see this playing out a thousand different ways, but all ended with the death of the two upstairs. There was no way around it.
The sound of a door creaking and footsteps pounding the floor urgently woke something within Dolmas, and he began to lose control of himself. Valen was appearing.
He didn't begin to fall apart. He didn't try to shift into the beast. No. Valen was indeed crazy, but also cunning. He had a plan. And it began with the girl who was now inches away from his cell door.
A young Nord woman stepped out from the shadows, staring at the worn and hungry elf now peering back at her through the bars. A look of pity stained the poor woman's rather beautiful face, but soon, that wouldn't be the only thing.
The woman spoke to him, instead of her friend upstairs. Interesting. So she wished to die alone.
"Are you alright? Why are you locked in here?" The woman questioned innocently, her hands lightly grasping the bars. Valen began to weave a story out of nothing. A crafty trait that came naturally to him. He stepped away and looked to the ground, acting the part. "I'm not sure. I came here looking for supplies with a friend of mine. We had run out of food. Hoped there was some in here." He made a pitiful look to sell the story, and he could see the woman was starting to feel the sadness he was fabricating. "We were waylay-ed by bandits. They beat me, locked me up in here. They took my friend somewhere else but...I could hear her screaming from..." Valen clutched his face and began to cry.
The woman had heard enough. She scanned the bars thoroughly, then looked over to the chest. A key found its way into her hands and she scrambled for the door. "Don't worry, I'll get you out of there and we'll see if we can find her."
This was just too easy.
Valen nodded and waited for the door to open, then headed straight for his things. He muttered thanks when he could, trying to keep up the thankful prisoner act. "I don't think we'll find her. But thank you for at least wanting to try." He stepped away from the trunk, not sheathing his sword. The woman had turned away, to give the elf privacy. She wouldn't have time to regret it.
He stepped up behind her and clutched her to him. With one, stiff motion, he dragged his blade across her throat, slowly and painfully. He listened and felt joy as the screams pierced the air, then slowly died.
The force of the shriek awoke Dolmas from within, and he wrestled power back from Valen, but it was too late. He fell to his knees and wept. He clutched the unknown woman's body to him, and held it. He apologized over and over. To her, to her friend upstairs, to her family who were probably waiting at home. He had absolutely lost it.
Rushing footsteps came up from behind him, and a loud gasp broke the silence. He turned to see a larger nord man, his sword drawn and pointed at him. This must have been Lise. The man looked to the elf, than to his friend, who was now dead. A great roar came from him as he dropped his sword and grabbed Dolmas by the collar. He dragged him across the room and slammed him into the bars, the walls, anything with a flat surface that seemed hard enough to hurt. He paused to look the now bloodied elf in the eye. "Are you crazy, elf?!"
Magic words. Dolmas' eyes got serious, and he looked into the man before him. "You have no idea."
The elf began to shift in the man's hands, all the while undressing the best he could . The man quickly let go, out of shock as well as the disgusting feeling as he felt the elf's bones shift inside his hands. The elf grew in size, and each of his limbs grew tougher and harrier as the guard looked on in fear and disgust.
The freshly transformed elf growled, not looking at the man.
Then, without any sign or warning the wolf leaped for the man and tossed him about the room like a rag-doll, making his bones crunch against the hard cold stone with every hard push. How did he like being slammed into things? Not so fun, huh?
Finally, his hunger getting the best of him, he stopped playing with his food and cleaned up the scraps. He dragged both bodies into the cell, then began his first meal in a long time.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dolmas finally got dressed and armed up. As he tied the fastens on the chest plating, he focused on what he was supposed to do next. He couldn't do the starvation thing again. He couldn't lock himself up or hide himself away, as people were to stupid to leave him be, and he was to crafty to stay locked away.
He had to leave here, though. This place marked a failure that pained Dolmas deeply. It proved that he was meant to survive any attempts to push away the "gifts" he had been given.
He felt as if he was cursed to walk nirn a tortured soul forever.
Maybe he was right.
Grabbing an apple off a table and taking a bite, he stepped out into the bright world, shielding his eyes from the sun. He played a quick game to figure out which direction to go, then began walking off toward the north. To Rorikstead.
