solace84
God of the Arena
((a story to keep me busy when slow at work...))
NOTE: 18+ due to violence and graphic images
CHAPTER 1: A New Era
Valenwood
The war is over, yet the battles never end. Peace has become a thing of old, and so have the once noble and honorable warriors. Civilization has risen over the years, and the Imperial Army has flourished in the change of time. The economy is in full swing and the need for heroes is slowly fading into legends of old.
Skyrim in all its' glory has become a fast track for the black market, as well as for the ill-minded and ruthless. Battles are mostly won in shadows these days, not on the field of battle but behind the scenes. Those with the greatest riches and power have become the Lords of the land, and all else are the sheep.
Fanon Oakshield, a young elf of Dunmer and Bosmer blood, makes his way as a hunter in the forests of Valenwood. His mother, a beautiful dark elven warrior, lost her life upon his birth; and his father fell in the last great war, known as the War of the Condemned or the War of the Scrolls.
Fanon Oakshield as an adult:
Fanon was taken in by a group of Bosmer hunters, nice respectable elves that keep to themselves and stay out of Nirn's affairs. They have no children of their own, so they take in strays if they can. Currently, there are eight others with the company, and all have become a tight family.
"Fanon!!" a female commanding voice boomed through the trees. "Dinner!!"
She was known as the Mother Elf to all in the company, even to those whom are not of her own. She still takes care of them all like the same, and is well respected for it.
Fanon climbed down the enormous tree he was scouting around in, smelling the freshly cooked venison meat upon the fire-pit as he reached the ground. It was last night's kill, and would have to last for yet another night because no game was found on this day.
When he approached the table, made from oak, he saw that everyone was already gathered around. He took seat and awaited his meal, staying silent as the others spoke. They talked of nothing really, basically about hunting.
(continued...)
After dinner the group gathered around a large fire pit and relaxed. One of the orphans sang a song of woe for the Mother elf, while some of the younger ones played with wooden sticks and pretended to be great warriors of old.
Fanon kept to the trees, where he was most comfortable. There he hunted, relaxed, waited, and also slept. The forest was his comfort zone, and all was well this night...
The next morning he set out for another hunt, though this time he intended on heading deeper into the wilds. In a few months Frostfall would be upon them, and so the hunt was very important. The eldest orphans all spread through the trees, some went north while others went south, Fanon went west. The others hunted in groups, though Fanon preferred to be alone.
"Fanon! Fanon!" a young elven boy called, his name was Hirok. "Take me with you!"
"Not this time," Fanon said, and he rubbed Hirok's head.
"You say that every time!" he complained. "When?"
"When you are ready."
With that he kissed the Mother elf on the cheek while saying his goodbye, and headed out. He only carried with him a bear skin pack to hold the meats in, as well as his bow; made of elven wood and a short blade of Altmer steel. His quiver and clothing were made from the forest, of wood and sage leaves, with elk furs upon his chest to keep warm.
They were supposed to only be out for 26 days, and be returned home on the 27th. Fanon, though, stayed out for 35 days until he started his return. He had killed much and had to create a cart from bark wood and string to carry and drag all of his kills. It was to heavy to carry quickly, so instead he dragged it along the open dirt road and took his time.
When he reached his homeland borders, he instantly could see the smoke rising from where his camp and home would be. It didn't seem the normal smoke, as this was far to big and wild. Worry set in within him, and he dropped his meats in order to travel through the trees faster. Something was wrong, something was terribly wrong.
NOTE: 18+ due to violence and graphic images
CHAPTER 1: A New Era
Valenwood
The war is over, yet the battles never end. Peace has become a thing of old, and so have the once noble and honorable warriors. Civilization has risen over the years, and the Imperial Army has flourished in the change of time. The economy is in full swing and the need for heroes is slowly fading into legends of old.
Skyrim in all its' glory has become a fast track for the black market, as well as for the ill-minded and ruthless. Battles are mostly won in shadows these days, not on the field of battle but behind the scenes. Those with the greatest riches and power have become the Lords of the land, and all else are the sheep.
Fanon Oakshield, a young elf of Dunmer and Bosmer blood, makes his way as a hunter in the forests of Valenwood. His mother, a beautiful dark elven warrior, lost her life upon his birth; and his father fell in the last great war, known as the War of the Condemned or the War of the Scrolls.
Fanon Oakshield as an adult:
Fanon was taken in by a group of Bosmer hunters, nice respectable elves that keep to themselves and stay out of Nirn's affairs. They have no children of their own, so they take in strays if they can. Currently, there are eight others with the company, and all have become a tight family.
"Fanon!!" a female commanding voice boomed through the trees. "Dinner!!"
She was known as the Mother Elf to all in the company, even to those whom are not of her own. She still takes care of them all like the same, and is well respected for it.
Fanon climbed down the enormous tree he was scouting around in, smelling the freshly cooked venison meat upon the fire-pit as he reached the ground. It was last night's kill, and would have to last for yet another night because no game was found on this day.
When he approached the table, made from oak, he saw that everyone was already gathered around. He took seat and awaited his meal, staying silent as the others spoke. They talked of nothing really, basically about hunting.
(continued...)
After dinner the group gathered around a large fire pit and relaxed. One of the orphans sang a song of woe for the Mother elf, while some of the younger ones played with wooden sticks and pretended to be great warriors of old.
Fanon kept to the trees, where he was most comfortable. There he hunted, relaxed, waited, and also slept. The forest was his comfort zone, and all was well this night...
The next morning he set out for another hunt, though this time he intended on heading deeper into the wilds. In a few months Frostfall would be upon them, and so the hunt was very important. The eldest orphans all spread through the trees, some went north while others went south, Fanon went west. The others hunted in groups, though Fanon preferred to be alone.
"Fanon! Fanon!" a young elven boy called, his name was Hirok. "Take me with you!"
"Not this time," Fanon said, and he rubbed Hirok's head.
"You say that every time!" he complained. "When?"
"When you are ready."
With that he kissed the Mother elf on the cheek while saying his goodbye, and headed out. He only carried with him a bear skin pack to hold the meats in, as well as his bow; made of elven wood and a short blade of Altmer steel. His quiver and clothing were made from the forest, of wood and sage leaves, with elk furs upon his chest to keep warm.
They were supposed to only be out for 26 days, and be returned home on the 27th. Fanon, though, stayed out for 35 days until he started his return. He had killed much and had to create a cart from bark wood and string to carry and drag all of his kills. It was to heavy to carry quickly, so instead he dragged it along the open dirt road and took his time.
When he reached his homeland borders, he instantly could see the smoke rising from where his camp and home would be. It didn't seem the normal smoke, as this was far to big and wild. Worry set in within him, and he dropped his meats in order to travel through the trees faster. Something was wrong, something was terribly wrong.
