Wolfking
Dark Elf wizard. Real name Casik.
Tales of a Dunmer Mage, an Orsimer Warrior, and a Khajiit Ranger.
Hello. My name is not important. What is important is the story of a young mage by the name of Kalketh Darkcloak. Although the title seems more inclusive, these other characters are accomplices at best. Our story begins with the day Kalketh entered Skyrim...
The tunnel was long and dark. The swinging lamps did little to illuminate the party of Dunmer sneaking into Skyrim. Kalketh cursed as he scraped the roof of his head on the stony roof of the tunnel. The leader of the group, Dravilis, turned and hissed at him. "Shut the hell up!" Kalketh muttered an apology and staggered on again.
It had been roughly a month since the 14 Dunmer set out to enter Skyrim. Now, sneaking through a little known cave systems beneath the mountain ranges, they had found their entryway.
Suddenly, the procession halted. Kalketh heard an excited voice whisper "I think I've found the exit!" The group heaved a sigh of relief, most of them having been worried that they would die on this journey. He heard the sound of a boulder rolling away from the cave entrance and a split second later, the tunnel was flooded with bright, blinding light. Kalketh pushed and shoved his way to fresh air, staggering into the daylight. From the grunts and cries of outrage, he could tell he was not alone. He heard one old lady weeping softly, saying over and over again, "Beautiful, it's just beautiful." At that moment, Kalketh could not have agreed more.
But then, the beauty was shattered. A harsh voice cried out, "We got some over here!" and the thunder of hoof-beats echoed around the valley. Before he could react, arrows were whizzing around his head and thumping into the wet, muddy dirt. The old lady fell to the ground, gurgling through a crossbow bolt embedded in his throat. Kalketh attempted to flee, hurling himself down a hillside to evade the hailstorm of arrows. He felt a hand grab the hood of his robes and yank him back into the muddy clearing. Squelching in the mud, he managed to get to his feet, only for a spear haft to collide with his head, knocking him unconscious. His last view was of an angry Nord sneering down at him.
Hello. My name is not important. What is important is the story of a young mage by the name of Kalketh Darkcloak. Although the title seems more inclusive, these other characters are accomplices at best. Our story begins with the day Kalketh entered Skyrim...
The tunnel was long and dark. The swinging lamps did little to illuminate the party of Dunmer sneaking into Skyrim. Kalketh cursed as he scraped the roof of his head on the stony roof of the tunnel. The leader of the group, Dravilis, turned and hissed at him. "Shut the hell up!" Kalketh muttered an apology and staggered on again.
It had been roughly a month since the 14 Dunmer set out to enter Skyrim. Now, sneaking through a little known cave systems beneath the mountain ranges, they had found their entryway.
Suddenly, the procession halted. Kalketh heard an excited voice whisper "I think I've found the exit!" The group heaved a sigh of relief, most of them having been worried that they would die on this journey. He heard the sound of a boulder rolling away from the cave entrance and a split second later, the tunnel was flooded with bright, blinding light. Kalketh pushed and shoved his way to fresh air, staggering into the daylight. From the grunts and cries of outrage, he could tell he was not alone. He heard one old lady weeping softly, saying over and over again, "Beautiful, it's just beautiful." At that moment, Kalketh could not have agreed more.
But then, the beauty was shattered. A harsh voice cried out, "We got some over here!" and the thunder of hoof-beats echoed around the valley. Before he could react, arrows were whizzing around his head and thumping into the wet, muddy dirt. The old lady fell to the ground, gurgling through a crossbow bolt embedded in his throat. Kalketh attempted to flee, hurling himself down a hillside to evade the hailstorm of arrows. He felt a hand grab the hood of his robes and yank him back into the muddy clearing. Squelching in the mud, he managed to get to his feet, only for a spear haft to collide with his head, knocking him unconscious. His last view was of an angry Nord sneering down at him.