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What I imagine Gedur heard the whole time Vethis was up there 💀

-> Shalidor's Key on Quotev <-

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Photo dump of my Arisen, Raen. And the first time I slew a griffin, because 🥹

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an old man, 16th century

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Labyrinthian

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It was terrible.

The smell Vethis could ignore. But the color? The robes were long and in a shade of blue-grey that made Vethis look homely.

He was grateful Farengar wasn't much broader than he was. At least the robes didn't trip him as he made his way down the steps of Dragonsreach.

"Between the two of us, I'd rather smell like Farengar than a wet dog."

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A very fast portrait of Marcurio. What a sassy, sassy man

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Shalidor's Key Ch3

》》Read full chapter on Quotev《《

Chapter 3: Loathsome Civilization

A sharp pain pulled on his scalp and Vethis howled in pain. “Curse you, woman!”

Ralof chuckled from his bed. His leg was broken in two places and badly infected. Despite his wounds, he had heorically carried Vethis down from Helgen to Riverwood. 

Vethis hated the fact he owed him.

Gerdur’s face hardened as she pulled the stitch taut. “Hold still. Almost done.”

“Hold still?” Vethis gripped the sides of his legs. “You’re trying to scalp me!” 

“If you would hold still, I would be done already. You’re lucky. Any longer and you would’ve bled to death.” 

“I’m in your debt.” He murmured.

“Nonsense. Any friend of Ralof is a friend of mine. Even you.” Gerdur drew another stitch. 

Her hands were rough, pulling his head this way and that. If Vethis had the strength, he would summon a spell to close the wound faster than she could blink. But his body still ached from the levitation spell. 

If only he had his vial of frost salts to numb the pain! The Imperials had confiscated it, along with the rest of his prized possessions, when they arrested Ulfric. If the vial had not already been destroyed by dragon fire, it was now buried under heaps of rubble. His staff and robes, too. Gone forever.

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Shalidor's Key, Chapter 3

In which Vethis suffers. Truly.

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I had to draw this scene. Vethis lives in my head rent free 💀 Full chapter available here on Quotev

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Shalidor's Key Ch2

》》Read full chapter on Quotev《《

Chapter 2: Liminal Bridges

She shed her furs and cloak at the door. Beneath the heavy layers, her robes shimmered faintly with residual enchantment, and the brooch at her collar pulsed with soft magicka.

A flame charm kept the chamber comfortably warm, despite the fact a blizzard raged outside. 

Roena had never seen so much snow. The ice-crusted peaks, the frozen sea, and the stark, brittle wind was a world away from the golden coasts of High Rock. 

When she presented her crest at the gates of the College of Winterhold, she was immediately ushered inside without question. Now, she waited.

The chamber was quiet, lined with weathered books and softly humming artifacts. Two hours had passed. 

Roena shifted in her seat, restless. She regretted not having a book to entertain herself. Even one of those dry Dwemer treatises would’ve been better than sitting here with nothing but her thoughts.

 The trip had come on short notice. There’d been no time to prepare. No time to think. All she carried with her was Master Ganniele’s seal and the letter he left for the Ark-Mage; A heavy envelope pressed with wax so thick and ornate it might as well have been a vault.

Her fingers traced the embossed sigil, fighting the urge to break the seal. What could possibly be inside that required her, an apprentice barely out of formal training, to carry it alone to the most dangerous corner of Tamriel?

She exhaled then abandoned the letter on the cushioned seat. Drifting to the window, she rested a hand on the chilled sill, gazing out into the storm. The wind howled through the narrow arches and broken balustrades of the College

The College of Winterhold was nothing like Tower Morasil.

There, in the rolling hills of High Rock, the tower rose in sweeping spirals of white marble and ivy, kissed by golden sun. Warmth lived in every corridor

Here, everything was carved from unyielding stone. Built entirely of stone, the College perched on a jagged outcrop above the Ghost Sea, as if daring the waves to try and claim it. Winterhold was forever entrapped by ice. Sheet after sheet of it, endless and blinding. A vast, white emptiness stretching to the horizon. 

Exactly as Master Ganniele described it. Roena hugged her arms around herself. 

“Inside一?” 

A woman’s voice, sharp and agitated, echoed down the stone corridor. Footsteps followed in rapid succession. 

“Two hours! This should have been brought to me sooner!”

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Shalidor's Key Ch 1

》》Read full chapter on Quotev《《

Chapter 1: The Art of War Magick

You promised me my freedom, serjo. Now cut my bonds before that beast sends me to the wrong ancestral plane.” 

The tower quaked and groaned as the screams outside grew more desperate. At any moment it felt as though the entire building would collapse over Vethis’s head. 

His situation was laughable. Here he was; Master Wizard of House Telvanni, stripped of his robes, staff, title, and condemned to die at the hands of Empire n’wahs一 only for a dragon to descend on the fortress! 

Whether the beast was divine providence or ill-fate, Vethis Naar wasn’t sure yet. Neither were the Stormcloak soldiers cowering beside him. 

The dragon’s thundering roar grew closer, howling in his ears. The magic in veins prickled at the sound. 

“Release me.” Vethis hissed again.

Ulfric Stormcloak’s weathered face was a hard line. A jagged cut above his brow bled freely, mixing with the sweat on his brow and smearing the fur collar of his cloak. He looked from Vethis to the shattered tower window. Dragon fire surged across the sky, turning the clouds a molten orange. Another blast of flame struck the battlements with a deafening roar, shaking the tower walls.

Ulfric didn’t flinch. He didn’t need to say it. Vethis already knew. They were running out of time.

“Cut him free.” 

“My Jarl! You can’t truly mean to let him go after what he’s done.” A Nord, blond and broad-shouldered, stepped forward, disbelief twisting his features. His armor was scorched, ash clinging to his beard.

Vethis thought his name was Randolf. Blonde. Brutish. As Nordic as Nords came. 

“We all saw what happened in the Reach. He’s a traitor一”

“Me?” Vethis scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.” 

There could be no doubt. A traitor had walked among the company bound for Darkwater Crossing. How else could the Imperials have timed their ambush so perfectly? Vethis was the only Dunmer among them, the Nords had drawn their own conclusions.

A tragic assumption, but not uncommon. 

Vethis never cared for Skyrim or the high elves. After the Great War, their troubles became Ulfric’s burden. Skyrim’s mess.

But now? Now it was personal. 

Robbed, beaten, spit on and shackled like a dog.

He had half a mind to let the dragon finish what it started; To watch Helgen fall and the Imperials burn into sad little crisps beneath dragonfire.

A roar split the air. Vethis could only wince as the tower shook, unable to cover his ears. He tugged hard on the ropes binding his wrists. The magick in his veins was stagnant, cut off by the tight cords digging into his flesh. 

Ulfric’s voice cut through the chaos like a war horn. “Now, Ralof!” 

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Here for the people of Quotev, since recent updates took away the ability to message authors 😞