We had traveled many days through the lands of Ebonheart Pact. The four of us found ourselves in a land called Stonefall; the starting area for the Ebonheart Pact (Level 12ish area), one of many lands within the pact. We had traveled these lands by foot, horse and wayshrine. We spent this night with a group of travelers just down the road from the Iliath Temple Wayshrine within the Iliath temple area of influence. The travelers told us of an area called Fungal Grotto (level 12 to 15 group dungeon) that had many nasty surprises in it.
It began at the Ashford Gate in the Black Citadel. Brightmane’s casket was pulled by six black horses on a black caisson and the funeral procession stretched the entire length of the mustering ground.
We’ve been travelling together through Tyria with a charter to discover new foods and recipes for the Court of Queen Jennah. We have a second, classified mission as well. I could tell you what it is but then Foggy would have to eat you.
This short story was written by a 13 year old girl. Her unlimited imagination has shone through her creativity in art, literature, and roleplay. She is currently working on the 3rd story from this series, now at age 14 while attending a specialty charter school focused in the arts and literature.
The two Ancients stood guard over the cabin and the sapling growing in the yard. The Old Goat grazed, as he always did around the house. The grass was sweet and the elders within would feed him corn and other delectable grains on occasion. The dogs would bark, but rearing his head would usually silence them.
Many years ago, when the Alessian empire was yet the dominant force upon Tamriel, does this story take place. Where Alessia may have been a hero to slaves, the empire founded in her name grew to be no better than those she had rebelled against.
Tinte Rois had grown up in the jungles of Maguuma though she had spent a lot of time in Rata Sum and the influence of the Asura could be seen for miles. What could go wrong deeper in the jungle when plants got a mind of their own? Sylvari were plants after all. Okay, they were weird and many times made no sense at all, but one could manage to deal with that. You just remembered, never try to re-compute any of it.
I, Velaeria Vitalia, Imperial Night Blade of the Ebonheart Pact, would like to share with you the tale of my adventure that helped to save all of Nirn from the clutches of Molag Bal.
I had no idea what to expect at the Tomb of the Primevil Kings where I went to gain access to the overly quiet human gods. Rytlock’s theory had the gods abandoning Tyria, but Kasmeer would never accept such an idea.
The forest was calm. The soft rustle of leaves, stirred by the light breeze, was disturbed only by the occasional chirp of a bird. But the woods were far from still. A small shadow moved imperceptibly through the brush, paused to sniff the air, then stalked on.