Memoria

[Gladuos 869]

OOC:

Warning! Very long post. This is a story I wrote about my character Merek Moonstrike because I felt like a little bit of writing and thought, "Well, haven't done anything with LotC for a while." So here it is, a story I wrote because I remembered a few stories I wrote about Gladius and how that was fairly well received. Tell me what you think or feel free to respond in RP in whatever way you want that seems logical. Thanks guys, see ya.

 

 

Deep in the wilderness on a clear skied night, the moon descends upon and pierces through the shadowy veil of the forest below. A mountain sits upon these trees like a monolithic titan and it would seem that none could ever compare to its might... yet at its base a small glimmer can be seen. There is a door at the base of the mountain that shines light through its windows into the darkness of the night. Above the crude wooden gate that supports the surrounding earth is a sign that reads, "Vigilant Steel Mine". The sign is covered in dirt and barely hangs from the battered earth of the mountain.

 

Inside the mine is a small room that leads to a large tunnel spanning downwards with the great stone of the mountain having been carved out. The supports of this mine are made of wood and stone alike, straining to uphold the great pressure of the mountain. An old crate with a pile of dust and dirt on its cover sits in the small room, filled with supplies and whats left of the supports. Upon the wall sits the source of the small glimmer of the mountain, a torch held to the wall by an iron sconce. The fire of this torch dimly illuminates throughout the small room of this mine.

 

Across from this torch sits a dark figure on the ground against the stone wall. The figure sits in silence as he takes small breathes, his chest compressing and slowly expanding as time goes on. His hair hangs down over his face, covered in grime, grease and filth yet black as the night sky. He wears a black plated leather chest piece with grey trimmings. His leggings are plain black trousers which are slightly covered by black, grey and brown fur that hangs over them like a robe. Though this robe has fur, it is only trimmed with the fur as the rest is simply black cloth, matching his leggings.

 

As the man takes a small breath, he looks up with a small bit of turmoil appearing on his face. His eyes glow dimly by the torchlight and the moonlight coming in not that far away from the mine entrance. He looks at the torch with hazel eyes, the whites of which have grown red and bloodshot. Upon his face you would see a dirty or scraggly goatee covering his mouth and chin. He slowly turns his head and looks towards the mine gate, staring at the light coming from the moon, he still seems troubled. Thoughts race through the mind of this young man, troubling thoughts, thoughts of duty, thoughts of peace, thoughts of the past and thoughts of family.

 

"How could things have gone this way? Why do I have to deserve this wretched obligation?" the black figure thought. He turns his head as he looks down at his belt, an iron dagger is sheathed on his right waist while a light steel one-sided battleaxe is hung by his belt on the left side. "Everything was going so well for me... Why was this thrust upon me?" the man thinks as he continues to breath slowly in the dusty, dimly lit room. He closes his eyes and takes another small breath as he whispers, "No, though this was thrust upon me, I did not hesitate to accept... All I want to know is, where are they?"

 

The man slumps further back onto his back as he reaches down and unsheathes his dagger. He begins to think to a time when he was still with his family. "Boy, I'mma welt you if you do anything like that again!" the man thinks of the time when he broke a man's hand for threatening him in the marketplace and shortly later being yelled at by his father. The man smiles for a moment, remembering his family, but his face grows solemn once again moments later. "We never went back to that town..." he thought.

 

He remembers the day that his father told him his real last name wasn't Ward. "What do you mean that's not our name?" he remembers saying. His father looks down at him as he explains how he had lost his mother and father when they were escaping to Asulon. He tells of how a great man came and saved him as the forests were filled with fire. The young man never used Ward as his last name again after that day. The young man always loved his grandfather Johnson, but he knew they were not blood related after that day.

 

The man remembers moving out from his parents' home and making a living deep in the wilderness as a lumberjack. "I remember the burning cold nights in the small wooden shack..." the man thinks as he continues to look at his dagger. "But it started with a whisper..." the man's eyebrows tense up as the familiar expression of turmoil returns. "There were no dreams out there, only nightmares." he thinks. The man blinks and thinks, "In my dreams he was there in black. He stared deeply into my eyes and I would scream from my sleep." as he says the end outloud lightly. "That is why I came back to my homeland to find that my old lord Jon Norsem was dead. The only man that helped me off the dirty streets... all that was left was the lands."

 

"How could I have known that that would happen?" the man thought as the torchlight continued to glow throughout the room. "When she came to me that day asking for help, I was eager to lend a hand." the man thinks as he remembers the day a young woman came to him asking for help to find her cousin. "I knew something was wrong the moment we entered the damnable snow..." the man thinks. "I was already on edge and ready to fight at the moments notice, though when she turned around with grey hair and blue skin and evil through her eyes, I would not let myself become like those before me." he slowly continues to think as he twists the iron dagger in his hands. "She would have killed me if I had not acted so quickly..." he remembers as the ice cracked and broke and how he quickly drew his axes. He remembers how he killed her in cold blood. "I would not die... not like my lord before me."

 

The man was possibly going to become a knight for this act, he knew this. "I.. had never killed a person before." he thinks as he remembers cutting off her cold icy finger as proof. To kill a witch was supposedly a grand deed, but all he remembers now is the blood and tearful face of the young woman. Though he was terribly grief stricken by his acts, he was finally making a living. Finally away from his parents, he was able to live out his own with his own house as a temporary soldier for a 'lord' Aedric.

 

"It was in the middle of the night when he came to me..." he looks down idly as he recounts. "From the Vigil." the messenger would say as he left a large crate before the man and his home. Before the man could ask what it was for, the messenger had already disappeared. "Little did I know how these books stacked upon books delivered to me would show me the truth." the man thinks as a groan is heard from the window outside his mine. The moonlight that once stretched along the mine floor is eclipsed and the man looks up with trepidation in his bloodshot hazel eyes. Outside the mine stands a bloody man with flesh hanging from his teeth. The man stands there idly staring at the side of the mountain next to the door. He looks up through the window at the young man, his eyes are even more bloodshot than his.

 

Quickly it bashes against the gate of the mine as it puts its arm through one of the empty four windows of the gate. Its mouth clamps and its screams are morbid with the sound of flem as it tries to force its face through the window adjacent to the one its arm is in. The man stares at the creature and begins to calm down. "When will these things leave me along?" he thinks as he slowly gets up with his iron dagger in hand. He strides up slowly to the gate outside arms reach. The man slowly holds his dagger up in his right hand as he hunches over slightly, as if he's getting ready to be in a fighting stance. The man quickly jabs the dagger forward at the monsters face as it pierces its soft, decaying forehead. The screaming stops and the only noise that comes after is a loud flop.

 

The man takes a breath and stands normally again. He takes the fur of his robes and uses it to wipe off the now bloody iron dagger. "I remember opening the letter at the very top of that crate..." he thought as he sat back down and sheathed his dagger again. The man looks up at the fire dancing before him, he remembers the letter as if he was reading it in his very hands:

 

"Merek Moonstrike,

I send this to you this day because I know that I am going to die. These books hold all the information you need to know about your family and I. In it holds the journals, books, documents and pages about our family and the guild called the Order of Vigilant Steel. I am Gladius Moonstrike, your grandfather. I know that I am going to die and I am so sorry for not ever being there. I don't even know if this will reach you, but it took me my whole life to find out about you. Know that my story is one of many thousands and that you should not cry if I were to die today, nor should you. I cannot undo my sins, but perhaps I can stop you from ever repeating mine. And now I ask that you become the new leader of the Vigilant Steel. I am asking for you to claim my title as Vigilant Observer. To protect these lands. To protect these innocent lives... I love you, Merek, though I have never met you... Family will always be what's most important."

[Wobbajack 119]

Great story, Gladuos. Real nice work! I'm looking forward to more of your stories!

[Gladuos 869]

((Thank you kindly. :) ))