Wind and Ebony Breast Plate Essay
Wind and Ebony Breast Plate
The icy lands whipped him in the face. The cold heart of the land was beating like an ice wraiths heart. Cold and barren, He trudged along the frozen land. The heavy armor was wearing him down. The wind wasn’t helping much ether. The sound of his footsteps on the hard snow made crunching sounds each time his heavy plated foot hit the ground. He was covered from head to toe in an ebony encasement. Not a single piece of flesh exposed except an opening in the face. Two ice cold eyes stared out of it. There was a long trail of a sanguine liquid ran into the snow, hard as a rock before it touched the ground. He kept trudging along… the wind did not cease. It was about an hour until he found shelter. It was an Ancient Nord ruin. A long and forgotten door was only hanging by its rusted iron hinges. He pushed on it and it crumbled on his slightest touch. He gracefully rolled down the stairs and entered. He awoke a little later slightly groggy but ok.
He was out of the wind. He was in a puddle of blood… it was pooling at his side. He needed to do something fast. He reached over to one of the ancient stone tables and searched. He found some old linen wraps and put them at his side. He unstrapped his ebony breast plate and took off his helmet. He then took off his breast plate. A red hot burst of pain erupted in his side, he screamed out in pain. That was a mistake, down the hall he heard the guardians awake. He was in no shape to fight and needed a plan. He looked around and saw a big urn. He went over to it and slid inside, not making a single noise. About halfway down the wall of the urn there was a little crack, not too big to see inside but just enough for him to see out of it. Footsteps filled the hall and a squad of dragers came rushing in to see what all the commotion was. They are Ancient Nords, before the 1sr era, about 2000-3000 years old there ancient bones make squeaking noses just to move.
They guard all Ancient Nord ruins to the death. Well there already dead. The drager smelled the air. The Nord in the urn looked out and saw this. It was only a moment before he was discovered and slaughtered by these “things”. He had an idea. The drager followed the drops of blood to the urn. In his dried mummified mind the drager looked at the urn and drew his old rusted sword. The Nord inside was ready, he drew his sword also. The drager for some reason looked behind him and an arrow hit him right between the eyes, the glow of the conjuration spell died and a spray of a mixture of formaldehyde and blood hit the urn.
The other dragers ran towards where the arrow came. There were about 5 left. The Nord in the urn started fading away. He knew he was losing too much blood. The tried to stop the bleeding again, he looked down at it, it was dark but he knew when he was slashed at the battle of Solitude one of the elves must have had a poisoned blade. He kicked the urn out and fell out of the hole. He looked up and saw the dragers falling like rain drops. He started to fade to oblivion. He rolled to his back and looked up to ceiling and waited for Savanguard.
Where am I? I was in a cold barren room with a nightstand and a chest at the end of my bed. There was one candle burning on the ground with a piece of paper by it. I reached out and grabbed the nearest object I could find, an embalming tool. I got out of bead. My feet hit the ground it was a cold stone floor. The room was a dim lit one. The inscriptions on the walls were of the Ancient Nords. Down the hall footsteps arose. I looked in the chest for my armor, Shure enough it was there and a patch was formed where the Elf’s sword had pieced my armor. I was confused; I thought I was going to die. I went over to the note and read it. It was smeared in blood and I couldn’t read it.
I thought to myself that I was really lucky. I strapped my ebony armor back on my chest, and placed my helmet back on my face. I trudged out the door; the cold wind once again greeted my face. I walked for a while and stopped under a glacier. I knew I was getting closer to the ocean. My freshly mended cut still burned like the sun, but I pushed through it. The glacier was at least a mile high and there was a path that ran through it. I followed this path. It led all the way to the ocean; it was about a four mile walk. I walked this path the length to the ocean. I wore my fur boots down quite a bit. My feet hurt; I stopped and rested for a while.
University/College: University of California
Type of paper: Thesis/Dissertation Chapter
Date: 19 October 2016
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