#mauled to death by a lupine beast. as in (beauty and) the beast. and he. um. well | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theclaymorrigan · 11 months

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FORGING THE SWORD OF THE GREAT QUEEN 📜 Scroll One:

I gazed at them through the bars of my cage with what I thought was pure hatred. I had yet to learn what true hate was, though my lessons were about to begin.

One looked like a distorted male of my kind; too tall, stretched and gold skinned. The other, taller still, looked as if he'd been carved from obsidian painted with blood and bore horns upon his head. I could not fathom their words. In my few years on Nirn I had learned no other languages but that of my people; The Bosmer, called Wood Elves by outsiders.

I could likely have slipped through the bars of my cage, but where would I go? I was from a small tribe on the fringes of Valenwood. We were dubbed at least heterodox by some, heretical by others. When golden elves in their golden armor came in numbers to wipe us out, none stood by us. Now I was the last and this pair seemed to be debating my fate. If I could manage The Change I might be able to defeat these two. But I had reverted too recently from the vain attempt to protect my village and the moons were not on my side.

My father believed that The Tree Sap People had lost their way and forgotten our true origins. He held with our desert neighbors, the Khajiit, and called Green Pact Fundamentalists "hairfoot kissers". I didn't know what that meant and it no longer mattered. The Aldmeri Dominion had come and the faith of my father was one they would not abide.

If I read their tones and inflections correctly, the horned one advocated my death while the gold one held a different notion. They seemed to come to an accord and stepped back from the bars. A burning brazier, the chamber's only light, now separated them from me. At a call from the one I later learned was an Altmer I heard chains being drawn and the bars were lifted away. On the other side of the brazier, the other, a Dremora, ended a question with a word I somewhat recognized: "werewolf".

The Altmer made a reply then tossed an object into the brazier as if to punctuate the statement.

I looked into the flames and saw the severed head of my mother gazing back at me.

This was their "cure" for me. By placing the head of the one who "cursed" me into this eldritch fire, the beast spirit was drawn from me. I had indeed taken the wolfblood from my mother while in her womb. She, my father and my tribe had revered Hircine, Father Of Man-Beasts and Lord Of The Hunt. I had never known another way and now paid along with my kin for such reverence.

A lupine ghost erupted from the flames that rendered Mother's beautiful face to ashes. The smell of her lustrous hair burning filled my nostrils and the hate I spoke of in the beginning filled my heart.

The Thalmor tossed an elven dagger to me. Too incensed to question matters, I strode towards him and the Dremora but found my way blocked by the ghost wolf. Snatching me in it's jaws, it shook me like a skeever and hurled me through the air even further from the spectating pair. Part of me welcomed death at the fangs of this final thing to come from my mother. But the sneering visages of my captors and her killers mocked me. When the beast leapt for me, I ducked beneath while slashing up with the Thalmor's dagger, nearly a short sword in my tiny hands. It would have spilled it's guts upon me if it had contained any but, instead, the wolf apparition howled in agony as it faded from existence. Now on top of being mangled and mauled in it's jaws, I felt something pass from me. A stillness and a void entirely foreign to my five years of experience washed over me. In more than one form of shock, I crumpled to the stones. Through dimming slits I saw the Altmer clap and The Dremora scowl. Then I saw no more for some time.

My lessons in hate had only commenced.

TO BE CONTINUED…

#elder scrolls #elder scrolls blades #character design #original character

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tartheanmaid · 3 years

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Chapter 3: The Boggart in the Wardrobe

prologue // chapter 1 // chapter 2

Draco Lucius Malfoy hadn’t gotten the chance to see his boggart during class. Not that he wanted to of course. Although he had been gossiping about the state of Professor Lupin’s robes during the lesson, the young boy secretly had wanted to see what form the beast would take. Draco lied awake in his bed, looking out to the window next to him he saw a few fish swim by. Why does the best house have to have its dormitories under the black lake. He thought, slightly annoyed. Draco swung his legs over the side of the bed and his feet hit the cold floor. Putting on his robes he made to be extra quiet, for he did not want to wake the other boys in the room. He took his wand out from under his pillow, the boy had nothing to be fearful of yet he slept with his wand under his pillow every night. Curious. “Lumos.”

The castle at night was peaceful. The pale moonlight shone through the windows as he walked the halls. The empty classroom he had visited earlier today was growing closer. Draco’s shoes made little sound as he neared the door. Turning the knob the old classroom looked still, Draco could spot a moth resting on the window at the far side of the classroom. Other than a single moth the room was silent. The door clicked shut behind the young Malfoy. Nothing had appeared, he wondered if the boggart was still there. Walking toward where the boggart was he wasn’t surprised to find there was no beast. “Draco…” a voice appeared behind him. There in the light of the moon stood a large wooden bed. The woman in it coughed. “Draco, my love, come here.”

“Mum.”

Draco walked towards the illusion of his mother. She held out a weak hand for him to take. He knew somewhere in his mind that this wasn’t real, but seeing her again made him feel like everything was going to be okay. He knew what would happen if he didn’t leave, but against better judgement he took her hand. I wonder how many other students' boggarts are memories? He thought. There were only a small few students his age who had experienced their worst fears.

Her breathing was heavy and her coughing had gotten worse in the time he stood there. Draco had no idea how long it had been since he entered the empty classroom. “Draco,” She said. He looked up from their joined hands and met her eyes. It was as if he was looking into his own. Both sets of eyes were a deep chocolate brown. His mother had long brown hair and soft rosy cheeks. Draco thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Draco looked almost identical to a young version of his father, except for one thing. He had his mother’s eyes. “If you cannot be anything else, be kind.”

And with that she closed her eyes and went into eternal sleep. The boy felt her hand go inhumanly cold once more. He took the snow blossom from her hair and held it tight in his hands and cried. As much as he wanted to keep the blossom, it disappeared when he heard a man's voice in the corner of the room.

“Riddikulus.” The boggart was pulled into a chest the man in the corner had set on the floor. Locking the chest he said, “You know, I had gone away to get this chest to keep the boggart in so it could be transported off of school grounds.” Draco looked up to see his Professor walking towards him. Professor Lupin stopped a few feet away from the young boy. “Mr. Malfoy— I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity, it’s empathy. I knew your mother Draco. Despite being two years younger than me, she was my best friend.” Draco didn’t say anything. He knew Professor Lupin was friends with his mother, but those days where he would have grown up with an Uncle Moony were far behind him.

Professor Lupin waved his wand and the chest disappeared, presumably somewhere else in the castle. “Why don’t I walk you back to your common room Draco.” He leaned down and put his hand on Draco’s shoulder. “You don’t have to go back to bed but at least stay in your common room. I can’t have you wandering the corridors at night.”

~ ~ ~

In the time it took Remus to walk Draco back to the Slytherin common room, the boggart had gotten out of the chest Remus had trapped it in. Walking into his office he noticed all of the candles had been blown out, the moonlight shining through the windows being the only source of light in the room. He took note of the current moon phase, as he always did. He guessed there was about a little over a week until the next full moon. That meant his first dose of Wolfsbane was closing in. The boggart’s new form stood in the direct light of the moon. A single ray shone upon the headstones it had taken the form of. Remus remembered when his boggart was a pile of dead bodies, all having been mauled by a werewolf. Now it was headstones. The one on the right read as follows;

James Potter Lily Potter

Born 27 March 1960 Born 30 January 1960

Died 31 October 1981 Died 31 October 1981

The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death

The second headstone, the one on the left, hurt even more to read. The name engraved upon it had been scratched over with a blade. Seemingly done so by someone who wanted to erase the name from existence. From what Remus could make out, the rest of it read;

Born 11 February 1962

Died 4 January 1983

Death is a part of life, and should be treated as such.

The left headstone had a single word written in blood at the top of the headstone. In childlike handwriting the blood read one word; “Mudblood”

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