Hunting Falmer
Kal walked down the wide corridor of a deep forgotten Dwemer ruin. He had entered in Skyrim, but had been exploring underground for over 4 hours and suspected he was in Morrowind by now; or more correctly, under it. He was surprised how much light was available. The magickly lit lamps seemed to have lasted for centuries and although they did not eliminate the entire cavern, they did give enough light to manage. The Dwarves may have been a shifty bunch, but they knew how to build and use magick.
He crouched as he opened the door in front of him. As soon as he did he could smell the wretched air that always precluded the disgusting creatures that lurked beyond. The air was stifling and reeked of rotted flesh and mold. He had never quite gotten used to that stench, though he had smelled it many times before.
He could never understand why they had never moved. They had been free for centuries yet had never even tried to look for a new place to live. Maybe they were afraid; maybe they liked it. He didn’t know and he didn’t care. What does it matter anyway? I suppose they deserve this. He thought to himself, a filthy home for a filthy people.
Kal entered into a vast open room with only a table in the middle. The table was adorned with forgotten Dwemer cups, bowls and utensils. He knew if he grabbed a few of these pieces he may be able to fetch a pretty septim up top, but that was not why he was here. He came down to these depths for a purpose.
In the corner of his eye he saw something move. On instinct he pointed and drew the bow he held in his hand in the direction of the movement. He scanned the darkness with his Elven eyes. Though he could not see in complete darkness, his eyes were more akin to it than most Mer or Men, after spending decades underground. It didn’t take long for him to notice the foul creature in the corner.
The Falmer just twenty or so feet in front of him was a pathetic looking sort. Even for the degenerate race, this one looked ill. Though it was crouched in the corner facing away from him, he could see it breathing heavily and pieces of its skin peeling away.
He had never seen a Falmer so sickly, and in his observation he failed to notice a small rock by his foot that was just barely leveled on a small ledge. As he inched closer to get a better view he grazed the rock with his leg causing it to fall off and make a slight tap when it hit the ground. It wasn’t terribly loud, but in the enclosed rocky depths of a cave-like structure even the slightest noise can resonate.
The diseased creature quickly looked up and over its shoulder to look at the Elf. Kal’s arrow was poised and ready to fire at any moment, but for some reason he hesitated. The creature had a look he had never seen on a Falmer’s face before and it unnerved him greatly. It seemed to look upset yet pleased; confused yet determined; in pain and yet at rest. Most of all its expression seemed to convey one word: help. It never moved to strike and never even tensed up a muscle. They remained locked in silence for just a few moment, yet in that time Kal’s thoughts where racing.
It seems as if it is questioning me, he thought. I almost pity it. Kal had never pitied the Falmer before. To him, it was their own fault for becoming the way they are now. If they had simply chosen to flee else ware or to fight, for Auri-El’s sake, they would not be in this mess and would still have the former glory they once relished in. Many people blamed the Dwarves for doing this to them, but he didn’t. He did not love the Dwarves by any means, but the fate of the Falmer was in their own hands. This is why he never referred to himself as a Falmer. No, he was a Snow Elf.
Kal had grown up very similar to his Falmer brethren. He was born and raised underground in a Dwemer ruin, but the major difference between them was that he had not lost his Snow Elf blood. He was unable to find out how exactly his family had escaped the fate of their race, being that they had died when he was very young, but one thing was curtain. He hated the Falmer for giving up and become what they were. He hated that their decisions not only destroyed their once great race, but had disgraced them as well. He hated them all and had set out to kill them all; to exterminate his kin. Yet this one made him pause.
The pity behind the Falmer’s eyes had made him second guess his determination. Perhaps he was wrong to judge the fate of these creatures. Maybe they even still had a chance. Maybe they can make a better choice. He closed his eyes briefly and shook his head.
“No,” he said. “You made your choice.” And he let the arrow fly.
- By Ron Beck (Website Creator)
He crouched as he opened the door in front of him. As soon as he did he could smell the wretched air that always precluded the disgusting creatures that lurked beyond. The air was stifling and reeked of rotted flesh and mold. He had never quite gotten used to that stench, though he had smelled it many times before.
He could never understand why they had never moved. They had been free for centuries yet had never even tried to look for a new place to live. Maybe they were afraid; maybe they liked it. He didn’t know and he didn’t care. What does it matter anyway? I suppose they deserve this. He thought to himself, a filthy home for a filthy people.
Kal entered into a vast open room with only a table in the middle. The table was adorned with forgotten Dwemer cups, bowls and utensils. He knew if he grabbed a few of these pieces he may be able to fetch a pretty septim up top, but that was not why he was here. He came down to these depths for a purpose.
In the corner of his eye he saw something move. On instinct he pointed and drew the bow he held in his hand in the direction of the movement. He scanned the darkness with his Elven eyes. Though he could not see in complete darkness, his eyes were more akin to it than most Mer or Men, after spending decades underground. It didn’t take long for him to notice the foul creature in the corner.
The Falmer just twenty or so feet in front of him was a pathetic looking sort. Even for the degenerate race, this one looked ill. Though it was crouched in the corner facing away from him, he could see it breathing heavily and pieces of its skin peeling away.
He had never seen a Falmer so sickly, and in his observation he failed to notice a small rock by his foot that was just barely leveled on a small ledge. As he inched closer to get a better view he grazed the rock with his leg causing it to fall off and make a slight tap when it hit the ground. It wasn’t terribly loud, but in the enclosed rocky depths of a cave-like structure even the slightest noise can resonate.
The diseased creature quickly looked up and over its shoulder to look at the Elf. Kal’s arrow was poised and ready to fire at any moment, but for some reason he hesitated. The creature had a look he had never seen on a Falmer’s face before and it unnerved him greatly. It seemed to look upset yet pleased; confused yet determined; in pain and yet at rest. Most of all its expression seemed to convey one word: help. It never moved to strike and never even tensed up a muscle. They remained locked in silence for just a few moment, yet in that time Kal’s thoughts where racing.
It seems as if it is questioning me, he thought. I almost pity it. Kal had never pitied the Falmer before. To him, it was their own fault for becoming the way they are now. If they had simply chosen to flee else ware or to fight, for Auri-El’s sake, they would not be in this mess and would still have the former glory they once relished in. Many people blamed the Dwarves for doing this to them, but he didn’t. He did not love the Dwarves by any means, but the fate of the Falmer was in their own hands. This is why he never referred to himself as a Falmer. No, he was a Snow Elf.
Kal had grown up very similar to his Falmer brethren. He was born and raised underground in a Dwemer ruin, but the major difference between them was that he had not lost his Snow Elf blood. He was unable to find out how exactly his family had escaped the fate of their race, being that they had died when he was very young, but one thing was curtain. He hated the Falmer for giving up and become what they were. He hated that their decisions not only destroyed their once great race, but had disgraced them as well. He hated them all and had set out to kill them all; to exterminate his kin. Yet this one made him pause.
The pity behind the Falmer’s eyes had made him second guess his determination. Perhaps he was wrong to judge the fate of these creatures. Maybe they even still had a chance. Maybe they can make a better choice. He closed his eyes briefly and shook his head.
“No,” he said. “You made your choice.” And he let the arrow fly.
- By Ron Beck (Website Creator)