I'm trying to get back into writing so what better way than to write about something you love. So here is my attempt to a prologue and for amending for starting and not finishing a countless number of stories or just writing them in a haste as I used to do. Hope you enjoy.


A Heart String Severed

There is something horrible manifesting inside me, or maybe it’s just something pure dying… but the inside doesn’t matter. Where to begin with an introduction? I am Grigory Grotes, the fatherless son of a breton harlot. I do not know my father but knowing my mother he was probably a drunken nord sailor looking for a good time. I spent most of my childhood wondering the streets of Anvil, many of its civilians knew of me and my mother. They would give me a coin or food in good faith or in some form of sympathy, I of course shunned their pathetic attempts of pretending to be a decent living being and would often throw their coins into the sea and use their food to trap rats for torture in order to express my hatred.

As I left childhood I became suddenly aware of my special talents. I was an excellent fist fighter and a brilliant magician. My hand to hand skills have been developing since I was a child, always having to fend of drunken sailors or other children. My magicka capabilities are more likely from heritage, my mother being a Breton and a descendent of sorcerers but even then I have an abnormal amplitude for it than other bretons. I excel in the Schools of Destruction, Illusion, and Mysticism. I now make a living as a crusader of sorts, I carry out the temple wishes of smiting practitioners of the dark arts wherever they can be found and raiding dungeons on the side. I made a habit of torturing my enemies whenever I can, be they humans, mer, orcs, beast, or daedra they usually take a long time to die if I have no pressing matters at hand.

Today I find my blood lust more uncontrollable than ever. I want to end everyone everywhere, I want no one to escape. I no longer feel any regard for life and I have even lost connection with myself. No more do I ponder what ills me, what type of pain has crippled me so, or where did all this hate spawn from. It is here and I can’t change it, I wouldn’t want to either for it is leading me down a path I want to go, it’s leading me home. I just wonder how much longer until this mask of sanity I wear crumbles and I am exposed. How long will it take everyone to realize that an abomination has been living, sleeping, and eating with them? And when will they realize I resemble more an inanimate object than I do a living person? And when they do I want to be there… I want them to gaze into my eyes and I want them to see the void that I am…

And I want them to know that even long after I am dead and forgotten I will still exist…

Hey mate, great start to a new story and its good to see you around the forums again. I see you're still sticking to your darker side when it comes to writing, which is one of you strongpoints. The only problem I really see with it is sometimes you go from past to present tense, other than that it seems your writing has improved by a large margin mate.

Thanks, I have never been great with grammar unfortunatly, hell my spelling is even worse. I did have a problem with the censoring... its gonna be a umbrella seller to get around it.