As expected, Sandril towered over me. The Altmer mage was handsome—I think most Altmer men are, really—with silvery hair, hazel eyes, and a haughty manner. For all that he was a bit arrogant, he was actually very helpful. He sympathized with Vallanil’s plight and was glad to help his friend, although he let me know in no uncertain terms that it wasn’t an easy task to undertake.
“I hope you understand the difficulty of opening a portal at such a distance,” he complained.
“Well, if you think I’m asking too much—”
“No, no. Besides, you’re not the one asking. Vallanil is.”
“Nice to know you’d be there for me if I came to you for help,” I muttered.
After a few days of feeling cold and alone, I finally said yes to the vampire. I think I’m going to learn a lot from my new friend. His name is Vallanil Stormbringer, and he and his coven, who reside in a region called the Orchard, have taken me under their protection. In three days, I haven’t been disturbed by any of Coldharbour’s creatures, and no one has suggested or even joked about biting me. Many of the Orchard’s vampires chose to live in Coldharbour instead of Nirn, mostly because there is less of a threat to their kind here. It sounds crazy, but I guess there’s a sort of strange logic to it. They were able to come and go as they pleased, and they would go to Tamriel to feed, socialize with others, or even adventure like I do.
I’ve thought about starting a journal for a while, but I never could find the inspiration; but my sister Kaawenyth told me once that I shouldn’t need inspiration for a journal. Just write what I think and feel. I replied that I’ve never been a big thinker or feeler, and she just laughed and said I was lying to myself. I guess she’s right. I mean, I’ve had the same lover since I was a child, and I’ve read every book in the Library of Elden Root—okay, not every book, but a lot of them. Mum and Da always stressed that it was just as important to be well read as it was to be good with a blade and a bow. I just never thought much about it. I guess I learned and just didn’t realize it. Huh.
I’m posting new fanfiction starting today. This is the Journal of Gwenyth Nightvale. Gwen is the product of a roleplay on Elder Scrolls Online, and throughout the story, you’ll meet lots of interesting characters created by my guildies. I hope you come to love Gwenyth as much as I do.
Don’t worry; Amelia and Kaawen’s stories haven’t stopped altogether. I’ve just got a slight case of writer’s block where they are concerned, and I hope to start writing them again soon.
Interesting side note: Gwenyth and Kaawen are sisters.
Sorry I haven’t posted in a while. My health is always questionable, and I’ve been doing a lot of roleplaying in ESO, so my fanfic has been pushed to the back burner for a while. I hope to post more updates again soon, but in the meantime, I thought you might enjoy some hilarious screenshots I managed to snap.
Uh, sir, you need to park that outside.
Those Nords really know how to party.
I, uh, . . . um . . . yeah, there are no words for this one.
A/N: Contains explicit sexual content and nudity in the artwork. NSFW and inappropriate for children.
Kaawen and Betath were silent as they made their way through Vulkhel Guard to his house. She was sure all sorts of ideas and questions were playing through his mind, just as they were through hers. Her words, “Do you want to get out of here?” had a pretty clear meaning, at least for her. But only last night, she had said she wasn’t ready to take their relationship to the next step. Indeed, their first kiss had been just yesterday as well. Betath must be all manner of confused. Then again, so was she.
When they arrived at his house, he got himself a glass of wine and a cup of Samardan’s breakfast brew for her. “I need to get you some rotmeth, or at least some mead,” he said as he handed her the cup and sat next to her on the divan.
At the center of the vast swamp that was Glenumbra Moors lay the site of an ancient battle between the Direnni and the Alessians. They called it a fort, but there really wasn’t much to it except for a few rotting log walls and a cave with a heavy door. Today it was teeming with people, mostly mages, who stood outside the gate, peering onto the battlefield or casting spells. A large tent stood off to one side, and smaller ones were placed nearby.
An officious-looking orc stood near the gate, and Amelia went up to her. “Excuse me,” she said. “I’m looking for whoever is in charge. I’m from Aldcroft.”