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18+ Ek elska þik|Do bateki mangai ~ A Skyrim Story

Discussion in 'Skyrim Fan Fiction' started by Specter of Death, Oct 1, 2017.

  1. Specter of Death

    Specter of Death Forum Moderator
    Staff Member

    Oct 30, 2012
    Likes Received:
    This story contains some creative liberties within the Elder Scrolls World, meaning that there are parts that may not be completely lore friendly

    An Elder Scrolls Story
    Ek elska þik
    Do bateki mangai

    A Skyrim Story
    by: Specter of Death


    Chapter 1 .....(Click Here)
    Chapter 2 .....(Click Here)
    Chapter 3 .....(Coming Soon)
    Chapter 4 .....(Not Posted Yet)
    Chapter 5 .....(Not Posted Yet)
    Chapter 6 .....(Not Posted Yet)
    Chapter 7 .....(Not Posted Yet)
    Chapter 8 .....(Not Posted Yet)
    Chapter 9 .....(Not Posted Yet)
    Chapter 10 ...(Not Posted Yet)
    Chapter 11 ...(Not Posted Yet)
    Chapter 12 ...(Not Posted Yet)
    Chapter 13 ...(Not Posted Yet)
    Chapter 14 ...(Not Posted Yet)
    Chapter 15 ...(Not Posted Yet)
    Chapter 16 ...(Not Posted Yet)
    Epilogue ......(Not Posted Yet)

    Kalila Zahra
    [Click for her CC]
    Thorriniir Kyne-Son
    [Click for his CC]
    #1 Specter of Death, Oct 1, 2017
    Last edited: Jan 8, 2018
  2. Specter of Death

    Specter of Death Forum Moderator
    Staff Member

    Oct 30, 2012
    Likes Received:

    Chapter 1

    “Through Life and Soul,” her emerald eyes read while soft lips vocalized in a warm, gentle whisper, “do bateki mangai.”

    Kalila looked up from the dusty pages to gaze ahead at the world in front of her. The mountains had finally opened up enough to overlook the vast lands Skyrim held in store. This was not her first time in the province, and likely not her last given the path her life permanently held for her. She had always liked these northern lands, its mix of eclectic terrain and mass amounts of plant and animal diversity was virtually unmatched by anything else in Tamriel. Given she had now traveled through most of the continent, she could say that for sure now too. Even though she had not even tried to navigate through the swamps of Black Marsh aside from the very edges of its borders, she knew even that thick marshland did not touch the diversity that Skyrim presented.

    She took one last bite out of the now skeleton of an apple, and tossed its core away into the plant life to her left. Tucking her notes back into her belt pouch, she stood from the rock she sat on for brief respite. Which, like the road it sat next to, was being devoured by the tall mixed grasses that painted the hillside it snaked down.The gravel sounded with a crunch under each step her feet made, but the sound was almost completely drowned out by the whispers the trees and underbrush made with each wispy breath the breeze blew through them. The gentle wind carried with it the scents of the southern forests blended with that of stone and water. The scent she could see was coming from less than a mile ahead of her, at the foot of the hill she paced down. She saw that the forest started light, tickling the slope’s end with sparsely placed trees before gradually becoming thicker and more populated. She could not see the origin of the other subtle smells, but guessed that their source would be found somewhere deeper within the pines.

    Though Kalila knew where she had traveled was known for its cold temperatures, the warmth the sun touched her skin with pleasantly surprised her. It seems spring has come early this year, she thought lightly, taking the warmth and turning it into optimistic energy. There was a time when she was younger that she would be calculating in her head how long she had left in her adventuring. Now however, all she could think about was the beauty around her; a skill she had learned in the last few years. She was thankful for it too, as this feeling of pleasure far surpassed the distracted feeling of planning ahead. She knew where she was going, or at least she knew where she was hoping to find herself. That’s all she needed, the comfort of knowing that by day’s end she would be in a place where she could confidently rest her head. Whether that meant a warm bed and a hot meal in a town’s inn, or a branch within the safety of a forest canopy was not important to her.

    What was important was the goal of her visit to the province this time around. Finding the temple--a goal that sounded simple but had only increasingly proved to be the opposite. She had only started with 3 words in Yoku: Do, Bateki and Mangai. All of which she had only just recently learned to translate. The only clues she had now were that the words were some form of title for the temple, and a vague phrase depicting what she suspects is its possible location.

    “Where frost meets stone, near Ysgramor’s throne. Where skeletal trees dance across seas of dead sands. Here pockets of land fill with time’s strands, and a hidden sigil may call you. Only when you hear it, with echoes through spirit, that’s where your first vigil will find you.”

    Ygramor’s throne. It was the line that had been on her mind since her departure from Evermor. That, and a sliver of guilt for not properly thanking and showing appreciation to the scholar who had helped her there. Danica was the Breton’s name, an expert in ancient Tamrielic languages. She remembered her telling Kalila how lucky she was that she was even able to translate the three words, as the language of Yoku was so incredibly hard to decipher. It was then that Kalila learned the ancient Redguard language was rarely found in written forms, do to the extensive losses of Yoku literature and history in the last three eras. She had known the Sword-singers were more than ancient history and that they were pretty decently documented, but had no idea that most other information from that time period was so scarcely known. Kalila had left so soon the next morning that she was already halfway to the provincial border before she had remembered to giver her thanks. Next time, she thought to herself, trying to tone down the guilt in her stomach.

    It was not long before the trees began to envelop her and the path ahead, as the hillside disappeared behind her. She inhaled, deeply taking in the essence of the pines into her nose and lungs. Her mind and body was refreshed, and the warmth from the sun on her skin stayed with her form, strong and stoic. Her thoughts were refreshed as well, letting her spirit fall back into the abstract art of mindfulness. Though High Rock had its fair share of pine forests and mountains, Skyrim’s were their own kind of unique; untouched by any in Tamriel. It was as if the forest was not only alive, but powerful and filled with motivation. With every sway of the canopy, she felt her heart beat in unison with the wavelength of the woods. With every chirp of a bird, with every forest sound Kalila was hearing a symphony. She had missed the north, with all its frozen glory. She wasn’t feeling the freeze here, but suspected the more north she traveled the less spring feeling she would catch. The warmth of the sun would only decrease with every step toward the northern seas, but something about that was alluring to her. She had felt so much heat through the winter, traveling the west coasts of Hammerfell and High Rock. Springtime is not a season that is meant to be cold, however in Skyrim every season manages to be cold in some form or the next.

    Kalila looked up to the sky, and through the leaves and pine needles. The sun was at its highest now, peaking noon. Surprised, she checked around her, and found that she had gotten much further into the forest than she had expected or thought. Time seemed to have been flying by as she glided through the land with ease and enjoyment. She was not incredibly certain where exactly she was, but from what she could tell the hold she had found herself in was Falkreath. Holds, Kalila thought amusingly, what a unique way of organizing sections of land. The system of Skyrim was much different than most others in Tamriel; Jarls, Thanes, Housecarls, a High King. A feudal system that is unique to the province. She did like the idea, however. Less complicated than Houses and Families, and a little less boring than the empire that covered the continent - less power-hungry too. It was a system of respect and honor, something that was rather lacking in the world nowadays.

    Being in the hold that she suspected to be in, it meant that at some point soon she would be reaching one of the main roads heading toward the hold’s namesake and capital city, Falkreath. It wasn’t her favorite of the capitals, as it was incredibly and depressingly drab and focused on such a glum subject. Every city has graves and its share of dead, but they do not name their businesses after that and act like it is everything that their city stands for. Dead Man's Drink? Honestly? It was better than one of the side towns and villages however, where the people tended to be reclusive, suspective and unfriendly to strangers. Plus, having a good Nordic meade and wholesomely made stew made any visit to a city worth it. Though she was not focused on how long it would take her to get there, she knew enough to know that she would get there before dusk came. Likely only ten or so miles from where she found herself walking.

    Deep inside of her she was secretly hoping that along the road someplace, she would find someone in need of her aid, or any sort of situation which let her release some of the primal aggression that currently laid dormant within her. It never pined to come out, and she never craved it too much, it was just something for her to do; something she enjoyed. Redguard spirit, she would jokingly call it in her head - that battle ready spirit. She drew one of her daggers from the sheathe on the back of her belt, and set the tip of its blade on her forefinger, setting her mind to balancing it as she walked. It took her a couple attempts, but before long she was walking at a steady pace, arm extended with a stiffly standing blade perched on the end of her hand without wavering. She grinned as a thought flew into her mind, and she reached for her other knife.

    It took some focus and repositioning, but before too long, she had two blades on the end of her hand, forefinger and and pinky. A brief sense of pride filled her stomach, and she giggled childishly. Something so simple, so silly, gave her so much amusement. There was a sliver of shame in it too, but she quickly shoved that away as there was nobody around to judge her actions and nobody around to scold her for them. She was a grown woman, and it was her business. Nobody else’s.

    Like the gods had heard her hope, the scream of a woman filled her ears. She clumsily dropped her knives onto the path, and jerked her head around, listening for a second outcry. When it came she turned heel in the direction which it came, picking up and sheathing her blades then taking off full sprint toward the source.

    It took but a minute before she found herself mere yards away from the scene. A young Nord girl cowered against a tree while three large, savage looking men of different descents stood over her. While two of them had their weapons drawn, one with a sword at the woman’s neck and the other a bow with an arrow drawn and aimed at her, the third tore violently through a small cloth bag. Throwing out item after item, he grunted and groaned with frustration, clearly not pleased with the contents he was finding within. “Where’s the coin?”

    I said, where’s the f***fing coin?” he said again, crouching down to be eye level with the shaking girl. He drew a dagger from his boot and held it up, firmly touching the tip against her cheek a mere flick away from drawing blood.

    As the man glanced up with his friends with a hearty and sinister grin, his eyes flinched and fell on Kalila. He stood up violently, glaring in her direction with a fiery stare. “You don’t have any business here bitch, move along.”

    Kalila grinned, and slowly the grin grew into a wide smile. She maintained eye contact with the man, whose gaze quickly grew frustrated with her presence. He took a few threatening steps in her direction, and the man with the bow turned his aim in her direction. The dagger wielding man spoke once more, louder and antagonized, “I said MOVE ALONG!

    Kalila calmly reached back and lightly set a hand on one of her daggers as she let a hearty, guttural chuckle escape her mouth. This was more than enough to keep the men distracted on her face rather than her body movements and subtle intentions. She maintained the same hearty grin, as she spoke up for the first time, “Naw, thanks for the advice though. Now, if I may offer you some in return: politely put your weapons away, all of you, return the girl’s things, and leave. Now. And fair warning, I won’t be asking twice.”

    The man’s face flinched with intensity, and she could see his jaw clench. The man with the sword finally turned his attention in her direction, while the man with the bow’s draw quivered slightly. The dagger wielder began to growl, and took a single step before Kalila let out a disappointed sigh.

    Her blade sliced through the air. His forehead became its target. An arrow flew. Her form dodged. Her second blade was sent away. The bowman’s neck squelched, impaled. A sword charged. Her left arm dipped away from its blade. Her right sliced up.

    The last of the three bodies joined the rest in their position on the ground around the girl, and Kalila calmly stepped forward and sheathed her sword. She knelt down in front of the girl, whose hands covered her eyes, and Kalila gently placed her belongings back into the cloth bag. She held it in her hand, as she set her other on the girl’s shoulder. She flinched, but Kalila met her reaction with a calm reply. “It’s alright sweetie, you’re safe. Let’s keep those eyes shut, and I’ll walk you to the road. How’s that sound?”

    The girl nodded her head quickly, and she stood up with Kalila’s guidance. Once they met the road, she uncovered her eyes and looked at Kalila thankfully. “Thank you so much.”

    “Not a problem dear,” Kalila replied shortly and softly, trying her best not to react to the few tears the girl dropped from her terrified eyes, “just hurry on home alright? I’ll be going that direction too here soon, so if anything happens I’ll be right along to help.”

    The girl nodded and turned to break into a jog toward what Kalila assumed to be Falkreath. She stood up straight, looking toward the afternoon sky with a slightly emotional sigh. The relief and appreciation she felt in her heart was heavy, thankful that she had gotten there when she did. As a warm breeze flowed its way through the trees, it met her nose with the scent of the trees and forest freshness which brought her mind back to a place of calmness. She turned and made her way through the trees back to the sight of the attack. When she got to the camp, she was surprised to be met by a lanky, brush colored coyote sniffing around the bodies of the bandits.

    “Shoo,” Kalila spoke sternly, gesturing with her hand as she carefully knelt down to tear her knife out of one of the men’s head, “go on, bugger off! Come back later, I have my things to collect and then I’ll pile them up for you. Ay?”

    The canine whined in response, turning her head and sitting herself down on the circumference of the battle site. Kalila sighed and rolled her eyes, stepping slowly and calmly to retrieve her other knife from the body the coyote sat closer to. Kalila flinched as the canine laid itself down, tilting its head the other way, not breaking its stare at her.

    “Well at least you’re respectful about being impatient,” Kalila muttered, pulling the blade out of the man’s neck, releasing a bubbling stream of blood from the hole the blade made. “Good lord. You wouldn’t happen to know where a river is do ya?”

    Kalila’s question was facetious and filled with an essence of sass. “Of course not, you’re a dog. I’m talking to a f***fing dog. Good one ‘lila.”

    Another whine from the coyote escaped its snout, followed closely by the snap of twigs behind it. Kalila jerked up straight, grasping both bloody blades firmly in her hands. She glared ahead, trying to locate the source of the step, seeing nothing. The feeling of a cold point on the ridge of her neck sent a chill down her spine, as she resisted the urge to react and flip around.

    “Drop ‘em,” a stern man’s voice commanded. Kalila complied without hesitation, nodding her head in understanding.

    “Did you have a reason? Or was this just for your own pleasure?” It asked just as firm.

    “They were robbing a little girl,” Kalila responded coolly and calmly, “when I asked them to leave her alone and walk away, they turned to attack me. I was simply defending her and myself. So yes, there was good reason.”

    The cold point fell away from her neck, as the voice made a light sound of approval. Kalila turned around to face her interrogator, finding a man dressed in fur kneeling over one of the bodies checking the wound. His chestnut hair and rugged goatee slightly betrayed his fair northern skin, but his looks undoubtedly matched his voice. He let out another approving, grunt-like noise as he moved to crouch over another of the bodies.

    “Clean,” he spoke again, much lighter and friendly this time, “masterful blade-work. Nice.”

    Kalila stared at the man in equal parts confusion and suspicion. “Thanks?”

    She turned startled, as the coyote hopped over the third body, and barreled into the man. It nuzzled into his face, chirping and whining excitedly as its body shook and writhed. Kalila fought away the urge to smile and turned to pick her daggers back up, this time holding them in an nonthreatening manner. She turned around to see the man standing facing her, but focusing on putting his bow away on his person and placing his single arrow back in his quiver. This time she could get a glimpse at his full person, including his face. It was slightly aged and battle worn but still retained an attractive youthfulness. His body was muscular and large, that of a man well trained and effective in battle and hunting. The fur clothing he wore looked fortified like armor, but loose and comfortable. Then he looked up at her, scanning her body in return. She glared at him for a moment, but when his eyes met her's she let the glare fade. She had just been doing the same to him. What had he thought of her?

    “So that’s yours then?” she asked, nodding to the canine.

    She’s Meadow,” he said, in a friendly reminding type of way, “and yes, she’s my girl. Is that yours?”

    He questioned her in a joking mock, clearly gesturing to the blood covering her hands. “No, that’d be theirs.”

    “Ah, well then,” he said with sincerity, “I suppose we should show you to the creek nearby then. Ay?”

    She thought he was asking her for a moment, but realized he had been asking his pet. She let the smile come this time, feeling slightly more comfortable with showing her happiness at the sight of such friendliness. “I guess that’d be alright.”
    #2 Specter of Death, Oct 1, 2017
    Last edited: Jan 30, 2018
  3. Specter of Death

    Specter of Death Forum Moderator
    Staff Member

    Oct 30, 2012
    Likes Received:

    Chapter 2:
    Breathe in. A taut bowstring stretches at the pull of two fingers. Behind the shoulder blade. Narrowed eyes mark their target. Breathe out. Calculated fingers release. Fwish. A single arrow carves a path through the air. Its steel tip lodges into the thick pelt-wrapped frame of it’s now fallen prey. Thwick.

    The man and his lithe companion hastily found themselves at their newly claimed bounty. Dropping to a knee, Thorriniir carefully began to scan its body. A buck, well into its maturity. A catch most appropriate for the hunter--a sire to many calves and a formidable creature to stalk. It was your time my friend, he thought to himself, bowing his head. Thank you for this bounty, it will feed us and the mouths of many others.

    He let his head rise to look back at the large source of food, then his gaze turned to Meadow. She sat calmly, her head mimicking his--bowed in respect before finally meeting his eyes. Her head tilted and let an excited exhale escape her mouth. A long tongue escaped from her open jaws and her panting continued, occasionally interrupted by impatient whining. He grinned playfully, raising an eyebrow at the shuffling of her front paws. With each of her anxious exhales, Thorriniir could feel Meadow’s anticipation coax a teasing grin out of him.

    “Okay eager beaver,” he said with a chuckle. Setting his gear down beside him, he readied his knife in preparation of the dissection of his boon. He made quick work of the animal, pausing only to carve out a small portion of its hide to hold Meadow over until his deed was done.

    Thorriniir separated the elk into numerous cuts of meat, while also cleaning and preparing the hide and antlers for sale. Aside from what he was to keep for himself, what he had would sell for a decent satchel of septims. His kill was strong and produced healthy, succulent portions of meat. The skin was healthy and thick, perfect for any skilled craftsman to make use of. Quality enough to urge him into thinking about keeping it for himself. Thorriniir tucked the urge away, and began folding and wrapping up the cuts of meat inside of it. Fastening the folds up around each antler, he finished securing his catch with a length of thick leather cording.

    “Alright, you’ve been patient enough love, here you go,” he said proudly, tossing her a thick hunk of inner-thigh meat followed by pieces of the few innards he avoided discarding, “eat up, you’re gonna need the energy. We’re stopping at the creek before we head east. Then after Falkreath I want to shoot for the Rift before dusk.”

    Meadow groaned between mouthfuls, glancing up at him with an almost human glare. She let out a dismissive grunt as she exhaled, and returned to her eating. “And now you are carrying some of the load, brat.”

    This time she didn’t respond at all, ignoring his input. What brief bit of fuss she showed about that inevitable fact interrupted her scarfing and it was clear that she didn’t intend on breaking the focus on her meal again. Thorriniir had just tipped his his water-skin back to sip what was left of its contents when a fearful shriek filled the air to meet his ears. His heart lurched and he lept to his feet, looking down at Meadow to gage the exact direction of the sound. Her body stood stiff, nose pointed and ears perked up in focus toward the noise. This told Thorriniir the call had come from somewhere east of their position.

    “Let’s go,” he commanded calmly, quickly re-equipping all of his items and scooping up his bounty. He stuffed the meat filled hide and antlers underneath a cluster of large exposed roots at the base of a tree, covering it with leaves and underbrush. Then swiftly took off in the direction of the call. He snapped at Meadow with his right hand, instantly gaining her attention while they sprinted through the trees. His hand then gestured forward, and Meadow let out a short chirp of compliance before swiftly increasing her speed and racing ahead of him. Do what you must my friend, Thorriniir thought out to her.

    He slowed his pace to a jog which eventually melted into a soft walk. Thorroniir listened ahead carefully, inhaling every gust of the wind and exhaling while his ears scanned for sound. He drew his bow, and placed an arrow on it’s string. Step by gentle step he continued in the direction of the kicked up brush his companion made, and before long his ears picked up the familiar sound of Meadow’s whine. Not any whine however, but one they had been practicing since they came together: a signal of caution. It’s specific pitch, pattern and length let him know that whatever was to meet him when he got to her location, was potentially hostile.

    Thorriniir decided to let out a gentle whistle in reply, matching the natural sound of a regular song bird; easily masked in the forest and only recognizable to those trained to recognize it. Another sound they had mastered, confirming his understanding and location hidden nearby. It wasn’t long before his short, calculated stalking brought him close enough to see his friend; and more importantly the situation she had stumbled upon. A young woman, surrounded by the bodies of 3 men - all of which were dead.

    As she began to yank out a blade that was lodged within the skull of one of the fallen bodies, her voice calmly filled the air. “Go on, bugger off! Come back later, I have my things to collect and then I’ll pile them up for you, ay?”

    She was speaking at Meadow, who simply whined again and moved her forepaws around. The breeze picked up once more and Thorriniir let out another whistle hidden within it’s gust. He began to creep around to the south of the stranger, aiming to get behind her. He watched as the woman stepped toward another of the bodies, closer to Meadow, and reached for another blade. His companion let out another alerting whine, lowering herself to lay down in front of the woman. She flinched at the canine, with a stuttering breath.

    “Well at least you’re respectful at being impatient,” she said dismissively, turning her attention away from his companion, ripping the blade from the dead man’s neck. Thorriniir could make out the sound of gushing blood escaping the wound with a startling squelch.

    “Good lord. You wouldn’t happen to know where a river is do ya?” Her question was brief and sarcastic, before returning her own question in a mumble that Thorriniir couldn’t make out.

    Now directly behind her, Thorriniir quickened his silent pace to rush up through the trees mere steps away from her form. He dipped down and grabbed a small pebble, and nodded at Meadow beyond her. She let out a confused whine, and as the woman’s head looked down at her, Thorriniir tossed the stone in the forest beyond, which stiffened the woman’s body into an alert stance. Without hesitation, Thorriniir pulled his arrow back tightly on his bowstring, and crept up to stand right behind the woman, setting the arrow’s cold point against the back of her neck.

    He felt her body flinch on the tip of his arrow in shock, and in a purposefully deep and stern voice he spoke, “Drop ‘em.”

    Without hesitation she replied with a single nod of her head, and only when he heard her blades hit the forest floor did he speak once more, “did you have a reason? Or was this just for your own pleasure?”

    His question seemed to marinade the words in her mind, as she mulled over her response. Then the sound of her voice began to explain the situation gently. “They were robbing a little girl. When I asked them to leave her alone and walk away, they turned to attack me. I was simply defending her and myself. So yes, there was good reason.”

    With a short huff, Thorriniir removed his arrow from the bowstring, putting it back in the quiver. He knelt down over the body of the man he stood over, his grimaced face had a deep and precise hole between his eyes. An impressive impact wound for a throwing blade. He stepped toward another of the bodies, whose torso and lower face were butterflied like an expert chef’s prepared chicken. Was he impressed?

    “Clean,” he couldn’t help but calmly proclaim, as the excitement in his stomach built it’s way into his throat, “masterful bladework. Nice.”

    “Thanks?” Her voice was confused and cautious. Then it became immediately clear to Thorriniir that is admiration of her kill was incredibly strange—and now likely very easy to depict his poor communication skills with the opposite sex.

    Wow, what a way with words, he thought nervously at himself. He hadn’t even seen what she looked like up close yet, but for some reason nothing but her voice and excellent offensive prowess filled his body with an unwarranted bashful warmth. He kept his head down, avoiding making any eye contact with the woman as to hide any evidence of his admiration. Lucky for him, it seemed Meadow had somehow known how troubled he felt, as she wildly whined, and barreled into him. She bounced around and spun into his body and rubbed up against his chest. It startled him when she began to nudge him in the face with her muzzle and tongue, forcing him to push her away.

    He stood up and wiped his face, glancing down at her with a confused glare which Meadow only replied with her signature tilting head. After he tucked away his bow properly, he turned back in the direction of the woman, unintentionally locking eyes with her just as she stood back up with her knives in hand. Suddenly her eyes dropped, looking at his form. He raised an eyebrow, and crossed his arms defensively. Thorriniir fell to his urge to look and quickly eyed her face and body—swiftly returning to her eyes in wait of contact. She was very attractive, her face was friendly and intriguing to him, and inviting even despite the serious expression she seemed to be forcing as she finished sizing him up.

    When her eyes finally met his, Thorriniir thought he saw a slight glare flicker under the stern stare she wore on her face. Had she not expected to see his eyes? Then her face reset and became much more natural and relaxed. “So that’s yours then?”

    Her gesture at Meadow confused him for a moment, and he felt the pang of offense that filled his gut mix with amusement. She’s Meadow, and yes, she’s mine.”

    “Is that yours?” His question back at her was almost overfilled with sarcasm, and he gestured at the blood that covered her hands—in half mock and half concern.

    “No, that’d be theirs,” she replied blankly, looking to her hands and back at him.

    “Ah, well then,” he said in a wholesome way, looking down at his companion in question, “I suppose we should show you to the creek nearby then. Ay?”

    Meadow whined up at him, hopping to her paws and dashing ahead a few yards before turning back to look at them to follow.

    “I guess that’d be alright,” her voice was friendly and light this time, without any sense of caution.
    #3 Specter of Death, Oct 1, 2017
    Last edited: Jan 30, 2018
  4. Specter of Death

    Specter of Death Forum Moderator
    Staff Member

    Oct 30, 2012
    Likes Received:
    For those who are curious, Ek elska þik is Old Norse. It is pronounced eck-elsckah-theek, and it is translated to mean I Love You

    Do Bateki Mangai is a combination of Old Redguard/Yoku words roughly translating to mean Through/Of Life and Soul
    #19 Specter of Death, Oct 4, 2017
    Last edited: Oct 4, 2017

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