Probably Just a Deer

[Star Gazer]

Probably Just a Deer​

A story by Lucas76020​

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Chapter 1​

He was a normal baby. Two arms, two legs, two eyes, two ears. He was born long ago in High Rock. His parents had quarreled over a name for him. Finally the rich mother and father settled their differences and decided to name their child Isnar. It was an uncommon breton name, but his parents named him after his grandfather. Isnar did not cry when he was born, for his brain was not like other baby’s. Isnar always thought things out thoroughly, and would remain over-thinking things for the rest of his life.
He was five. His father proposed that the family go on a camping trip to escape the hustle and bustle of every-day life in a meadery. Isnar’s father, Ontanir, was a very rich man. He had many friends in high places. He was the perfect target. It was night, and the family was relaxing. While some were sleeping and playing, some were scheming and forming evil plans. A group of men from a rival mead factory knew that if they ever wanted to make a profit, they would have to end the ones on top. It was midnight. Isnar and his father were sitting by a fire. Isnar’s mother was asleep. They both heard rustling in the bushes behind them. Isnar over-thought and presumed it to be a monster. “Father, what is that?” The boy asked. “It is probably a deer, Isnar. This is their home, and we are just here for a visit.” His father said. Isnar relaxed. Just a deer. Nothing else. Father says it’s a deer, so it is. He thought. The bushes rustled again, this time disturbing neither of them. Isnar turned to his father, lovingly. What he saw would haunt him until he would no longer remember it. His father’s chest, leading up to his shoulders, leading up to his neck, leading up to his... it ended there. There was no head. He looked behind him. The apparent deer had decapitated Ontanir and was moving for his mother. Isnar pulled his hunting knife and jabbed one’s leg. He yelped in pain, but tied Isnar to the log he was sitting on. They thought about rolling him into the fire, but they didn’t want him to die. They figured chopping off a limb would be best. A large breton unsheathed his iron war-axe and raised it. Isnar squirmed, but could not manage to get free. Down came the axe, and off came the arm. The axe had sliced cleanly at the elbow, not breaking any bones, but cutting tendon and flesh. The nerves in his arm screamed with pain, and the bleeding wouldn’t stop. Isnar was fading from consciousness.
The boy had to act fast. He pulled out the dagger he had stabbed the man with, and put it over the fire. It was searing red, and the hilt burned his hand when he held it. Isnar looked away as he pulled the metal to the stub of an arm. He screamed, but cauterizing the wound made the bleeding stop, or at least slow down. This dagger was no good. Isnar tossed it into a nearby lake. The burning metal let out a hiss as it hit the water. Isnar grabbed the war axe that had been used to remove his arm, and put the handle into his belt. Isnar knew justice had to be served. Isnar moved slowly through the woods, trying to remember the path he had taken into the dense forest. He had walked for days on end, only stopping to drink and sleep. The land grew dryer and colder, the further he went. He saw a large number of men moving a cart of merchandise. Stolen merchandise. Isnar saw the headdresses and realized that these men and women were Forsworn. I have heard about these people. Bad men that go to Skyrim. They are from High Rock, but I don’t think they are here for the same reason I am. Or maybe they are. Whatever the reason, I need to avoid them. Isnar thought. He crouched along a near wall, and went straight, walking through plains and winding through mountains. Isnar finally saw a city. Markarth. I’m in Skyrim. Of all places, I’m in Skyrim.
People buzzed through the streets, and as Isnar walked, he got stares at his arm, and heard people trying to sell him “The finest wares in all of Tamriel!” Isnar shrugged off all the looks and words. He heard a distant horn blow. This was no Markarth horn. The forsworn were planning to attack Markarth. They rushed to the doors, the forsworn archers sending arrows flying into the city guards. They rode a carriage up the steps and crashed into the main doors. They broke open with a clash. Isnar saw the chariot riding through the market, to where he was standing. He jumped out of the way, and went through the hall of the dead, looking for an escape. It led to a graveyard just outside the city walls. Isnar hopped the fence and continued running. (TO BE CONTINUED)

 

[Star Gazer]

Chapter 2​

He was a moderately ugly boy. Two legs, two eyes, two ears, and one arm. People would stare at him and mock him. Isnar learned to not mind the words of other people. The boy was six when he finally escaped the reach, and it's evil forsworn. Isnar was now in the Whiterun Hold, and that was where he was headed, but many more evil men lurked around Whiterun, stealing from the rich, and killing the poor. Isnar learned this by watching the main road to Whiterun. There were giant camps and bandit outposts littered across the plains. Whiterun was on the other side, but Isnar figured he would have more luck in Falkreath. The boy traveled south for about a week, and finally reached the small town. Instead of bandits, this hold was the home of the Dark Brotherhood. You had to keep your eyes on anyone who seemed like they did not want to be seen, or you might just lose your head. Isnar traveled through this hold quickly. He stood in front of large mountains. Throat of the world. Isnar thought. He heard of many monks who lived up in the mountains, secluded from any evil, and protected by the monks that lived there. He climbed the 7,000 steps to High-Hrothgar. He had made it.
He walked to the front gates, and pushed open the large doors. “I want to become a monk.” Isnar said. He meant it, and the monks saw that. They taught him how to fight, and how to survive off the land. They taught him how to meditate, and tried to teach the boy about words of power. Isnar was not interested in learning about myths, and after a few years, he figured he was ready to fight anything that got in his way. Isnar traveled for days and days. He crossed many cities and towns, but stopped at none of them. He knew how to survive off of plants, and use nature and his surroundings to his advantage. Isnar hunted and scavenged for berries for food. He usually stopped at a stream to refill his canteen. Isnar was about eleven now. Isnar traveled to the other end of Skyrim. This was the hold of thieves. The hold of the town Riften. Isnar thought he would travel there, looking for adventure. The elevel year old boy strolled into town and sat down at the Bee and Barb. It was a new inn and was recently built. Isnar smelled sawdust and saw the poorly sanded walls. He walked up to the bar and sat down. An ugly argonian lady approached him from the other side of the bar. “I trust you’re not looking for wine.” The argonian said. “I’m looking for adventure. I don’t want to buy into any of your drinks that make the mind slow and your sense of balance gone.” Isnar replied. “Are there any local mead factories?” Isnar asked, remembering his mission for justice. “Golden-Glow Meadery? Outside of Riften on an island. They will kill anybody to get their prices right.” This is what Isnar wanted to hear. (TO BE CONTINUED)

 

[Star Gazer]

Chapter 3​

He was an unusual young man. He had two legs, two eyes, two ears, and one arm. He was very quiet and had a hard time making friends, but his mission was not to make friends. It was to bestow justice upon those who murdered his father. Isnar will kill the men who ruined his life, and put their company out of business. Isnar had enough equipment to destroy the Golden-Glow Estate. A few gallons of lantern oil, an unlit torch, flint, and his axe. Although he was ill-prepared, he was ready to do anything to avenge his family.
He walked towards the bridge, leading to the meadery. There was a large stone arch, crafted beautifully. A man stood on top of the beautiful arch and called down to Isnar. “What are you doing here, little boy?” Isnar had this all planned out. “The new delivery boy!” He called up, raising his basket. The guard presumed the basket was empty, ready to be filled with mead and delivered to the people of Riften. The basket was the temporary home of the three cans of lantern oil, highly flammable stuff. It also housed his torch, flint, and his trusty axe. He was inside the gates. He walked onto the large island. There was one building in the middle, surrounded by small fields of bee farms. Once Isnar’s torch was lit, it would stay like that for a long time. He planned out how he would burn each row. He was further down the road, and that much closer to the large building. He walked inside, as innocent as could be. No one was inside the building except for one or two men, he heard upstairs. Isnar took out the first can of oil. The young boy started pouring. The viscous liquid started coming out slowly. He only needed a small bit for each foot of wood. He had a good pattern going. Pour, stop, pour, stop, pour, stop, until he got to the stairs. He ran up them, and rolled the can down them, spewing the oil all around them. First floor, done. Isnar thought to himself. He pulled out the second can of oil. He poured until he was next to the room where he heard the voices. He walked in. There were two men at a table. They looked at the boy. “Are you supposed to be in here?” The one on the left asked. “I got lost.” Said Isnar. The men stood up and were leading him to where he needed to be. When they got in front of Isnar, he began pouring again, this time discreetly, behind his back, so the guards wouldn’t see. They led him down the back of the meadery and into the basement. “This is where you fill your basket. Come back once you are done delivering, and any extra bottles you have will be returned here.” Said the guards. They walked away.
The basement. It was large. There were large barrels of honey and alcohol. Alcohol is flammable. Isnar thought to himself grinning. He walked over to the large vats of the flammable liquid and let the alcohol flow freely along the floor. Isnar filled his basket with mead, and walked out. The guards were walking away. Isnar pulled the axe out of his basket and brought the iron blade down on the guards’ heads. They both fell to the ground. Isnar dragged them to the stairs, leading down to the cellar, and rolled the two men down. Their bodies flopped and collided with each other many times before reaching the ground. He had covered most of the building. The main entrance was still free of any oil. There were two men. They looked oddly familiar. These men were Isnar’s targets. The ‘delivery boy’ walked past them, with a small puddle of oil left behind him. He lit his torch once he got out of the building. “Sure is dark!” He told the two men. They nodded. Isnar instantly realized that drawing attention to himself was a bad idea. They saw the arm. (TO BE CONTINUED)

 

[Star Gazer]

Chapter 4​

He was a weak and feeble criminal. He had decided that it would be best to run, but he would not give up when he had come so close to achieving his goal. He looked at the men one more time. The expressions on their faces were mixed with anger and evil. They were going to murder poor Isnar. They charged. Time seemed to slow down. This was the one of the first times Isnar was ever in a scenario like this before. He remembered his father, always teaching him about how the government in High Rock was poor. His father once told him, “In certain extreme situations, the law is inadequate. In order to shame its inadequacy, it is necessary to act outside the law. To pursue... natural justice.” Isnar remembered this one quote especially. He told Isnar this the night before he died. Isnar began to get angry, and time sped up slightly. He was frightened, but calmed down. Time slowed down slightly. He remained calm for the rest of the fight. Isnar had a plan, as usual. They come at me from two angles. 11:00 and 1:00. Light torch and throw at 12:00, passing these men and igniting the fire. While paralyzed, strike with many strikes at abdomen and neck. When both are dead, grab torch and run for the beehives, set fire to all of the rows, and all of the hives. These men will be out of business for a long time. He thought. Time regained it’s normal speed. The men ran at him and Isnar threw the torch between them, landing on top of the oil. The oil was set on fire. It looked like a fuse leading to a firework. That is the most accurate representation of what happened as well. The oil carried down the stairs and into the cellar, setting the two bodies on fire, and once it touched the alcohol on the ground... Explosions this way and that. The house’s very structure was coming down in front of his very eyes. The two men turned around, and while they were confused as to what was happening, Isnar rushed in and cut them in the stomachs and necks. The men were both dead. Isnar started to think. Vengeance has been bestowed. But I am not finished here. This island will burn to the ground, because these simpletons thought it would be a good idea to cheat their way to the top. Cheating is never the answer, and never has been. Looks like these fellas will have to learn that the hard way.
Isnar ran, grabbed his torch off the ground, and ran for the hives. He ran up the rows of beehives, with the Golden-Glow guards chasing him. He remembered the mead that he had been carrying this whole time. He threw the alcoholic beverages onto the floor, and tossed the torch on the broken bottles. They caught aflame, blocking the path of the guards, and allowing Isnar to make a clean getaway.
The ugly argonian woman walked out into the street the next day after she was finished with her job at the inn. She looked into the air and saw smoke. She joined the crowd of people crowded up, outside of Riften. They were all watching the fireball that was once the Golden-Glow Estate. The argonian woman looked down. “What have I done?” (TO BE CONTINUED)

 

[Star Gazer]

Chapter 5​

He was a deformed and misunderstood teenager. It had been years since the Golden-Glow incident, and now that the men are dead and the deed is done, Isnar felt as if there was nothing else he was meant to do with his life. He spent his days and nights in the ratways. One particular night, he was walking into the sewers, when he saw the most beautiful girl he had ever laid his eyes on. She had blonde hair and blue eyes. Isnar thought she wouldn’t even know he existed, but once they made eye contact, they got acquainted. He soon figured out that her name was Arcania. They started spending more time together and started to get to know each other a little bit better.
They had known each-other for four years, and they were getting married the next year. Isnar would be turning twenty, and Arcania would be turning 18. Her parents had forbid her to marry this monster of a man, but she didn’t listen. The parents threatened to disown her if she did not follow the rules of the arranged marriage, that her parents had set up with a rich family. Isnar and Arcania ran away, and found shelter in Rorikstead. There, they were happily married for fourteen years, and were expecting their first child. Isnar felt like the happiest man in the world. (TO BE CONTINUED)

 

[Arthur Swift-Sword]

Woooo go Lucas lol.

 

[Star Gazer]

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(WARNING: While writing this I found it to be quite disturbing. Forgive me. Some may be offended by the content of this chapter, so before reading, be mentally prepared for what could happen.​

Chapter 6​

He was a happy man. He and his loving wife were expecting a baby in a few months. One day, Isnar got drunk, very drunk, and got in a fight with Arcania. Isnar told her that he needed to blow off some steam. The thirty-four year old man went for a jog. He had been forcing the fight out of his mind for the duration of the run. He would walk into the house and apologize, but that is not what happened at all. Smoke arose from the small town of Rorikstead. Isnar sprinted to his house, only to find a woman lying on the floor, bleeding profusely. This pained Isnar, but what he saw next, would horrify him for the rest of his life. He saw a charred body... but not just a charred body. This body’s stomach was round. Isnar fell to his knees, war-axe in hand, either ready to chop down the ones responsible for this, or kill himself. He could not bare the sight of it any longer. His wife and son were gone. He felt weak. He could not approach the body, or he would be driven to suicide. He ran inside of the bar and began chopping away at the benches and chairs. He looked outside and saw a glint of golden. He opened the door and looked out. Golden hair and golden armor. Motherf *cking thalmor did this.

 

[Star Gazer]

(O.K. I just came up with this entire story so far, on the fly. I think I'll take a break of this story today and resume it tomorrow.)

 

[Star Gazer]

I have the rest of the story finished but I still have to straighten some things out and make it better. The rest of the story will be posted tomorrow.

 

[Star Gazer]

Chapter 7​

He was an angry man, shrouded by the cover of rage. The Thalmor are the ones I must go after now. No more Black-Briars, just more revenge. Isnar thought. He couldn’t get the image of his wife out of his mind. He burst into tears and fell to his face in the middle of the street. My will to live is gone. I might as well lay here for the rest of my horrible life. Isnar thought to himself, sobbing between every thought. The thalmor had recently set up a camp outside Rorikstead, but killing Arcania, apparently was an accident. Isnar had a close friend who could help him come up with a plan to wipe the Thalmor out of Rorikstead. His name was Abrulf, and he had lost his mother in the attack. Isnar listened to his friend’s plan, and thought it was a good one. Isnar approached a thalmor recruiter. “I would like to join the Thalmor army please.” Isnar said. “Oh please, a one-armed slob, in the Thalmor? I think you are getting ahead of yourself. You can sign up for the job of assistant cook, but that is all you’re getting.” Said the arrogant elf. Isnar nodded and met the chef the next day. He was a small nord. He threw Isnar his uniform. “They expect us to get started, so start cutting up some carrots.” The nord said, angrily. It was sure this man did not exactly love his job, and neither would Isnar. Day after day, Isnar made food, and day after day, his anger became harder to control. He worked until he could afford a horse. Go to work one more time, but put this lotus extract in all of the food. Grab a horse, and kill they all while dead or dying. Isnar thought to himself. He could feel his sanity dripping away by the minute, but knew what he was going to do. He went to the Rorikstead stables and bought the finest horse he could afford. He stored the horse in the cellar of Abrulf’s house. He was very thankful his friend allowed him to use his home. Isnar went into work, and prepared the food as usual, while the nord sat around, doing nothing, as usual. Isnar poured the entire bottle of lotus extract into the soup, and over the food. The elves would be paralyzed and unable to fight back when Isnar attacked. That night, Isnar brought his horse out of Abrulf’s cellar, and charged at the camp. He rode into every tent, and slaughtered every damn elf he could see. The elves that decided not to eat were the only ones who could attack. It took hours before putting down the small resistance, the elves put up, and finished them all off. The camp was empty, but Isnar’s anger was still at large. I already know that I will get thrown into prison for this. It was worth every second of it. Isnar thought. The next day, an imperial legion rode to Rorikstead, and took Isnar away. They sentenced him to fifty years in Cidhna Mine, the harshest punishment there was, other than death. Many even go as far to say that Cidhna Mine is even worse than death itself.​

 

[Star Gazer]

Chapter 8​

He was a lonely jailbird. Isnar was usually the one who did most of the work. Since he was weaker, the stronger men made him do their work, and if he didn’t, he would get stabbed. The stabs were not fatal, for the home-made blades were small, but they still hurt. Isnar had many scars all over his body from being stabbed so many times. He would refuse to do the work, every time. Sometimes he would win the fights, sometimes he would get stabbed repeatedly. The entire experience in jail was all a blur to Isnar. He spent most of his free time staring at a wall, and the rest of the time doing work for the other prisoners. One day, a new prisoner showed up. He was a large orc and went by the name of Borkul the Beast. Isnar had always wondered what he had been thrown into the mines for, but never bothered to ask. Borkul was growing higher in the food chain, and eventually was on top of the world, or at least the mines. He had a stash of skooma in his portion of the mine, and wouldnt let anyone near it. Borkul forced everyone to do his work for him, including Isnar. Isnar was going on to be about seventy-five now, and felt that his entire life was nothing but a lie. "Old man, get over here and make it look like I did a good job. I need to eat." Said Borkul one day. The orc made a mistake of leaving Isnar alone in his station. The old man looked everywhere until he had found the orc's stash of skooma. Isnar broke every bottle, and spilled about a gallon of the narcotic. When the orc came back, he realized that leaving the old man alone was a bad idea. Borkul pinned Isnar to the ground and jabbed his eye out with a shiv. The rest of his time in prison was slow, but hazy. It felt as if he fell asleep when he was 30, and woke up when he was 80. Isnar was getting weaker every day. His chest was covered in scars, and if you looked at it, you couldn’t tell where the regular skin stopped and the scars began. Isnar joined the imperial army when he got out of jail, and served for ten years as a combat medic. He became quite good at patching people up and sending them on their way. He was now ninety-two. He had been stabbed, sliced, kicked, punched, spat at, and eye gouged. Isnar thought if he just waited around for a while, he would die of old age, but he knew this was not going to work, and was taking way too long. As time went on, Isnar’s memories became hazier, and his life was drifting away from him. “I can’t keep living like this!” He screamed to himself one day. Once Isnar realized his entire life had been wasting away, he figured he had to do something good, for the people he lived with. He knew that he couldn’t just give up because he was old. He knew he couldn’t give up because he was weak!​

Isnar the Old will never give up!​

 

[Star Gazer]

(This is the second to last chapter. This is the period of time when Isnar would and will go on all of his adventures. I figured I would list the adventures he has been on so far. This list may or not be added to. I want to thank all of those who have supported Isnar and I over all of the adventures we have been on, and all the people I have Rp'd with.)

Chapter 9​

He was an old man. He couldn’t do everyday tasks, but he could still do good for those in need. In the next few years, Isnar has joined the Rangers (Rangers of Old), become a gladiator and come out on top (Gladiators of Tamriel), defeated the elven threat in Saarthal (Chasms of Saarthal) Helped the imperial caravan reach Ivarstead (The Aldmeri Offensive) Eradicated a group of bandits from Solitude who were posing as guards (Solitude Guard Cleanup), ended the terror of a large forsworn camp (Trial upon the mountain), and made many friends in the ratways under Riften (City of Shadows). Isnar has been through alot, but will always remember his friends, and will always thank them for making his last years, the happiest of his life.

 

[Star Gazer]

Chapter 10​

Final Chapter​

He was a happy man. Isnar had finally found happiness and peace in his life after so many very long years on this earth. Isnar was thinking about his father, and where his life had turned to a downward spiral. Maybe I’ll revisit that spot, just for the memories. It is something I have been wanting to do for a while, but was too scared to do it. Now, I feel braver than I ever used to be. I feel as if I am ready for anything and everything! Isnar thought. The old man was now one hundred-five years old. He walked to the very spot where his life had been ruined. He was in High-Rock, a place where he once called his home. Isnar sat at the place his father had been, that very night.​

Isnar thought about fishing with his father. He thought about his mother’s mushroom soup. He remembered coming home with scratches on his knees and a black eye. His parents took care of him and wanted to make sure that he was never hurt again.​

The assassin opened the small scroll and saw the drawing of the man he was to kill, and the words: "This man has lived too long, and made too many enemies, eliminate him now and do not fail. The books tell of this man's wrong-doings. This man must die, This man must die, This man must die." He had tracked the old man to this very spot in the woods. The assassin was not going to fail his mission.​

Isnar thought back to all the good times he had with his parents, all the friends he had made over the years, all the fun he had shared with his loved ones, and all of the beautiful memories he was given in his very long life. He remembered his wife. He remembered his son. He remembered his mother. He remembered his father. Isnar was reliving the very moment when his life had changed.​

The assassin loaded his bow, and aimed it at the back of Isnar’s head. As the assassin pulled the bowstring back as he always did, the expert marksman made a stupid mistake. He hit a branch and made, but it would be mistaken for an animal. A certain rustle in the bushes.​

Isnar heard a rustling in the bushes behind him. Isnar saw a vision of his child, Peyton. The one who died, along with his mother. Arcania was asleep. He and his child both sat watching the fire. Peyton heard a rustle in the bushes. He thought about it, but was afraid it was a monster. “What was that, father?” Peyton asked. Isnar looked at the boy, with a definite love in his eyes. He held his child’s hand and said four words.​

“Probably just a deer.”​

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A story by Lucas76020​

 

[Star Gazer]

Special thanks to those who I have RP'd with and to those who have helped develop Isnar's personality and character traits. I hope you enjoyed Isnar's life story. I will probably edit the story where I see fit, here and there, but nothing to serious. I came up with this story in the hopes of people understanding my character better and so that I can understand him better. I did not have a general idea of Isnar's childhood until I joined City of Darkness.
Sources: Skyrim Wiki (for names and locations), The Punisher (took quote from the movie and added into Isnar's father's dialogue.) Johnny Cash (for how I saw Isnar in his youth and young adulthood.)

 

[blue 468]

That was a really good story Lucas it really shows how Isnar became who he is.

 

[Star Gazer]

That was a really good story Lucas it really shows how Isnar became who he is.

Thanks man! I appreciate the feedback.

 

[solace84]

Hey Isnar great ending man, I enjoyed it. I'm gonna have to make some changed to that gladiator story now hehe.

 

[Star Gazer]

Hey Isnar great ending man, I enjoyed it. I'm gonna have to make some changed to that gladiator story now hehe.

lol it's about time man. But I think it's your story and you do with it as you please. If you think Isnar should live, let him. If you think Isnar should die, leave it as it is. I like the way the old man died in that story. I'm glad he helped people with his death.

 

[solace84]

No too late I already changed it to where he lives (which he normally does in the original RP anyway so it works). Now I can use that death for some other character, perhaps. mauahahahaha

 

[Star Gazer]

No too late I already changed it to where he lives (which he normally does in the original RP anyway so it works). Now I can use that death for some other character, perhaps. mauahahahaha

well I better not miss out on what happens then!