Welcome to my blog! My name is BurnxAsxEmbers (Just call me Burn :D) and I'm a gamer. Uh. Duh.
I've been gaming since I was 3 years old, and I'm now 21 (18 years bay-bay!). My favorite genres are RPG and tactic strategy.
I am a huge lover of Starcraft 2, and a goal of mine is to be known in the scene. This year I plan on gaining the aptitude to play, the ability to cast, and overall just be an e-Sport spokesman/player.
In this blog I plan on talking about my current works in progress, be they gaming goals, my game idea (My schooling path is to be a game director, and I have had a game series forming in my head and on paper since the 5th grade), or just gaming news I find interesting.
A little more about the non-gaming me: I'm a metalhead that does singing and screaming vocals, I love telling stories, and I follow the Jedi faith, though technically I am gray.
Current Blogging Subjects:
Dead Space 2 Mastery
Skyrim: The Ashlanders Tale
Starcraft 2 News (When time allows)
[i] A foreward
Thank you, any and all, for reading this tale. Things like this are written all the time, left and right, all over the internet. Some do TES justice, some, do not. It is in my earnest to do Bethesdas world right, and make a story just as vivid as the game is. Skyrim is large, and being as anyone of any creed could (have) been Dohvakiin, this is of course, non-canon. This is for the pure entertainment of you, the reader, and myself, as I play through the game with the intention of making sure you have a great time reading my adventure.
I have played the living daylights out of Skyrim already, so there will be moments in here that are planned. For the most part, I have the very basic outline of Dhraz-tes' journey plotted, up to "Episode IV". There may be more before I hit the planned end of the outline, as who knows. Skyrim has a way of thrusting adventure upon you when you least expect it.
I write this as I play, in a sense. I will play a chunk, type it up, then play, type, so on and so forth. This will take a long time, as not only does playing consume time, but writing as well. To make the combat interesting, I pause and play, jotting down key points and blows to make you, the reader, feel like you are witnessing the gameplay fight as if it were your own. Little will be contrived.
Conversations will be improv, as I do not wish to repeat the same lines you have already heard. I may make conversation with an NPC fleshed out for the sole purpose of detail and immersion. While in a game the dialogue is great, as a work of literature it is lacking without the back and forth. However, I state this with upmost importance: My dialogue writing is my weakest link. I appreciate feedback, though just know I understand my dialogue skills are lacking, something I hope to improve with this writing.
I won't give you step by step of the characters statistical leveling. This is a story, not a guide! Enough of my ramblings. Sit back, pop a Red Bull, and enjoy Skyrim, from a literary point of view!
Skyrim: Tale of the Ashlander
Dhraz-te had only ever known hardship. A Dunmer born to a family of Ashlanders after the Red Days, he was raised learning survival in a harsh, unforgiving environment. Though his family had escaped Vvardenfell, they were still nomadic, living on the mainland. When the Argonians invaded Morrowind, they once again fled into the wilderness.
Dhraz-te was taught to hunt with bow and blade, and how to live off the land. When his mother fell ill, he did his best to find a remedy, but was unable; The harsh climate of Morrowind did not grow the proper herbs any longer after the ash storms of the initial eruption, most of the environment was damaged. Dhraz-te was alone in the world. His father had died years ago to a nix-hound ambush, his brothers by the Argonian invaders. Unwilling to scrap the land for bitter survival, he traveled west. He was unaware of the lands beyond his surrounding territory, and, ignorant to all but what his life had been up to that point, journeyed miles...
Never could he have guessed the fate planned for him.
Episode I "Every new beginning come's from some other beginnings end" - Seneca
His head spun, and his eyes burned as he slowly came to. Rocking to and fro to a jutting, unrythmatic pace, the pain in his head surged with each jolt. As he attempted to steady himself, he noticed his hands were bound, and panic overtook him: Dhraz-te had never been bound before, the feeling of no freedom made him claustrophobic for the first time in his life.
"You're awake," he heard a gentle voice mutter, "You walked right into the Imperial ambush like us, and that thief." His eyes adjusted to the light and clouded mind, the man who was speaking sat across from him in a horse cart. His light blue eyes were sullen, as if he had not seen sleep for days, and his blonde hair was tussled and shone with grease in the bright morning light.
"I shouldn't be here!" another voice erupted to the blonde mans left, "Damn Stormcloaks! Skyrim used to be an easy place to get away with things, now you've got everyone looking out for the smallest thing!" This man spoke with a nervous edge. He has never been bound before, either, Dhraz-te thought, He is just as scared as I am. Feeling a slight companionship for the other, all he could do was nod.
"We are all brothers in binds now, horse thief," the blonde man said somberly. He glanced at the Dark Elf, seemingly summing him up, as if to prepare for combat at a moments notice, yet gently, as if he could also be a fair friend. Dhraz-te spoke,
"Where am I?" he asked, though the words echoed in his head, each reverberation screaming as the pain grew with each motion of the tongue, "And what am I doing bound?" At this moment, he looked to his right. A large, hunched figure sat on the bench with him, bound and gagged. His eyes seemed to cut deep into Dhraz-tes soul, as if pure hatred fueled his being. The glare frightened him, and he was forced to look away.
Before the blonde man could respond, the horse thief piped out loudly "I shouldn't be here!" staring directly into the gagged mans eyes, "It's all your damn fault!"
"Watch who you are speaking to!" the blonde man replied angrily. "That is Ulfric Stormcloak, true High King of Skyrim!"
"The Jarl of Windhelm? Oh no, this can't be!"
"Aye. Tell me, horse thief, where are you from?"
"What's it matter?"
"A true Nords last thoughts should be of home," the somber voice of the blonde struck a chord in Dhraz-te. Home. Had he ever really had a home?
"Rorikstead," the thief stammered, "I'm from Rorikstead."
"Shut up back there!" the carriage driver yelled.
The bound party sat silent for many more minutes until a town gate was seen just up ahead.
"General Tullius sir, the headsman is waiting!" A call shot out from the top of the wall. The thief eyes showed sheer panic, and the blonde man closed his eyes as he seemed to make a final prayer, which Dhraz-te could not hear.
"Pah," he said as the carriage rode through the portal, "General Tullius, the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves, I bet they had something to do with this!" Dhraz-te was angry at this statement. What wrong had elves ever done? They only wish to survive. The blonde man droned on, but he was not listening. He tried look around, though it strained his eyes to focus. That claustrophobic feeling fell upon him again as the gate closed behind them, he was surrounded by walls of stone. Bound, in so much pain he could barely move his head. All he could do was think, and even that brought sharp pains.
"Funny," he heard the blonde say,"Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe." Safe. Had Dhraz-te ever know safety? His thoughts went to his mother...
"Whats going on, why are we stopping?" the thief frantically spoke.
"What do you think?" teh blonde man replied, "End of the line."
"No! No, I shouldn't be here! I'm not a rebel!" the panicked thief spoke out.
Another voice boomed out over the clamor of horses and movement as the carts unloaded their living cargo. "As I call out your name, step forward and head towards the block!". The block. Dhraz-te didn't know what this block was, but he didn't like the way it was spoken of.
"Empire loves their damn lists," the blonde said as he hopped off the cart beside the Dunmer. Now Dhraz-te noticed how well built the man was. Large and imposing, it seemed strange he hadn't just burst from his bindings and fought off the soldiers single handed.
Names were being called out from three separate lineups, and Dhraz-te noticed that all but himself and the thief were wearing a uniform of blue, cloth embroidered mail shirts. Hadn't the thief mentioned rebels? Was there a war? Dhraz-tes' head continued to spin.
"Lok'ir of Rorikstead!" the booming voice called out to the line.
"No! You can't do this! I'm not a rebel!" the thief blurted out. "You can't kill me!" And just like that, the thief burst into a sprint, off kilter with no arms for balance. A female voiced yelled, and just like that, Lok'ir of Rorikstead was shot in the back with an arrow. Dhraz-te could just barely see the tan clothed figure tumble to the ground, and lie still. Was this his fate?
"You there! Step forward!" The booming voice was directed at Dhraz-te now. He stumbled over to the man with the list, almost tripping has his legs began to tingle and the blood started moving through them once more. "Who are you?"
Dhraz-te had to think a moment. Who am I? Oh! "I, I am Dhraz-te. From, from Morrowind." It took him a moment to remember where he was from, his head was still fogged.
The man looked at his list, then back to the elf, then back to the list. He seemed perturbed as he spoke, "What should we do Captain? He is not on the list."
"He goes to the block!" the female voice yelled gruffly. The captain did not seem in the brightest of moods today.
"I'm sorry prisoner," the man with the list said, "I will make sure your remains are returned to Morrowind." Dhraz-te understood now, this was an execution. He was to die, and he had no inkling of what for! Had he commited any crimes? He was taught only to kill beast unless attacked first, had he done so, then blacked out? He could not remember, any motion to bring up memory caused severe pain.
The man had led him to the group of blue-clad men and women, then stepped out of the crowd, leaving Dhraz-te next to the blonde man he was with on the cart. A new voice rung out, one of authority.
"Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero..." the voice rambled. Dhraz-te could barely hear over the jeering around him, some bickering to the men in the blue, some throwing things at them. When suddenly, a strange call came from far away, over the walls of the city, and everyone stood silent for just a moment.
"What was that?"
"I'm not sure..."
"What in the world?"
Then the jeering and boo'ing began again, louder it seemed, almost as if they wanted no more interruptions as the viscous peanut gallery. Dhraz-te saw a young, red-headed man led up to the sparser crowd ahead. He faced a masked man with a giant axe, and the female called Captain pushed the rebel down to his knees, and placed her boot on his back. The man in the mask lifted his axe slowly, dropping it down upon the mans neck, severing his head as it fell into a basket.
The crowd went wild, as if they just witnessed the beginning of a theater performance, though one with crude violence and hatred.
"Next! The Dark Elf!" Captain shouted into the crowd of bound men. Dhraz-te closed his eyes. We meet again, Mother. "I said, next prisoner!"
Dhraz-te moved forward, Captain pushing him down to his knees, and next, the clod steel of her boot. He looked up at the masked man and his axe, then down to the basket. The mans head still lay there, open eyed and bloodied. Dhraz-te vomited, and rolled his head back up to view the man in the mask, and just in time.
A black figure had approached from the sky, closing in on the gated town. It was large, larger than anything he had ever seen before! It was flying faster than a cliff racer, and landed sharply on the tower behind the masked man. He heard panic and mayhem, the trampling of feet; Chaos. The masked man had fallen over, and the black figure, perched on the tower like a gigantic bird of prey, surveyed the chaos with deep red, bead eyes. A thunderous roar erupted from its' gaping maw, what seemed like magic shot forth, stunning Dhraz-te.
He could see a figure in the light, low, arms spread. He seemed to be floating ever so gently. Features began to appear on the figure ahead of him, gray skinned, braided hair past the shoulders...
"Now is not your time, son," the figure said. "Go now! Fulfill your destiny! It is your rite... Get up! Get up!"
"Get up, elf! The Gods won't give us another chance!" It was the blonde man, coaxing Dhraz-te to follow him. He was alive! Yet, he had seen his mother... What was she trying to say? "Quit the day dreaming and lets move!" The man sprang up and ran towards another tower behind him. Dhraz-te did not think, for the man was right. He had only a few seconds to decide on living.
[i]This was ending up to be far longer than I thought! I will spare you the next bit for now, I understand you want to do other things on the internet today than read this! The next Episode will probably be up later today or tomorrow, depending on how my fingers feel about it. Ouchies D:
In other news, Dead Space 2 play through 5 today! Weee!
Have a great day today guys, and may the Force be with you![/i]