The Elder Scrolls

An Elvish Song of Pelinal

The little Ayleid girl skirted the remnants of her once-city, peering through the fires in an attempt to find her family. Unbeknownst to her, all that was left of them was dancing through the air, merely bone dust carried by Kyne’s cruel breath. She hadn’t even said goodbye to her parents nor her sibling when she stormed off, angry that the city would not be celebrating the Feast of Meridia and Xarxes, as was traditional at the time of year.

With a choked, hot sob she collapsed into the lush viridescence that made Ald-Cyrod so deadly and yet so beautiful. If she cared to look, she would’ve seen the Nedes cheering and celebrating as they fled the city, still wearing stone shackles, albeit with severed chains. Many of them were scarred and emaciated, evidence of their brutal lives under the Heartland High Elves. If they had noticed her, she wouldv’e been hung from her feet and drowned in the Niben. Sadly, a worse fate had her as a key player.

The Nedes had been liberated by a clan of killer Nords, a race of men who could breath death as easily as Lorkhan could, and they were lead by a warrior garbed in starlight and blood, who looked like a blooming rose as he danced across the battlefield, cutting limb from limb and turning elves to dust. An especially cruel insult to their heritage.

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In the battle it seemed he had fallen to an Ayleid sorcerer, who incanted in Dawn Era speak and turned the light into blades against him. Later, the Nedes and their saviours would mourn their hero, who was named the PELINAL, a horrific abomination. Of course, such things rarely die, or rarely stay dead, and that proved true when he crawled from the blaze, still breathing.

When his eyes fell upon the girl, the pupils constricted in a snakish way. Indeed, some called him the White Snake, for his words poisoned the minds of man with lies, making them think they could be anything more than dirt. Despite his charred flesh and missing legs, he crept closer to the girl, his breathing becoming heavier yet heavier, and with each breath leaked more blood, till a red river ran down his body.

By the time she noticed, he was already close. With a quick gasp she ran deeper into the jungle, passing parrots as colourful as Meridia’s hair. She did not have a destination in mind, as that city was all she had ever known, along with the distant White-Gold Tower, which was visible at any place in the Heartland, like a comforting beacon of home. So down the valley and closer to the river Niben she ran, catching her ankles on thorns and flowers with paralytic petals till she tumbled down the slope and came to rest upon the river’s bank. The sound of her crying and the rushing of the water came to mask the approach of the terrible PELINAL, who knew no such thing as love nor kindness nor mercy. His mind was made of precepts which were written in violence.

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When she saw him, it was already too late. His brutish, gauntleted hands gripped her head like an apple, and his dirty, oversized thumbs sank into her eye sockets, collapsing her eyeballs to bloody mucus. The tips of his thumbs sank so deep they graced the folds of her cerebrum. She wailed and spasmed like an eagle, but the PELINAL was also alike to a fox and just as shrewd. He screamed heresies so mighty not even the gods could save the girl.

As her delicate hands pawed and fumbled about his gauntlets, he began to rip. Her head severed in a horrible way, being pulled apart from the cleft, distorting her face into a stretched, fleshy thing. Once enough blood flowed from her, like a apple leaking juice, he raised her still fighting body above himself and let the crimson liquid flow into his mouth. His perverse enzymes restructured her blood into bone, skin and muscle, turning what should be elven into horrible man-flesh. Once finished, he dropped her to the pearly sands and left.

Despite the brutality, she still lived, lasting long enough to feel the heat of one final dawn, as her body was swept into the Niben like ruby flotsam.

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