SaintOfAnger

A wall of white, blocking the view of the village. Ear drums sound in the distance, the only warning. Leather and steel, flame and furs, silence and fear. They fear not death, but embrace it in this frozen land. Praying to their gods, to the All-Father. Two Ravens watch from high above, his eyes. The white wall of snow, his cloak. And the Norsemen willing to die, his spear. In the middle of the night, in the middle of the night. When all is silent. His armies attacks. Gungnir falls on his enemies.

With our swords and shields we appear as warriors, with our armor we are protected from their blows. The time has come for us to die and goto Valhalla, because we know we won't survive. With the North Gale on our side and Balder leading our blade we will fight to the end. Now, let then know our courage, our dedication, let them know as Vikings we're one! Come brave warriors and join me in our Battle Cry!

Well you may know me as the Prince of Madness, Mad God, etc, etc, some important title. But most know me as Sheogorath. Yep that's me! Old mad and delirious, or is it delirious and mad?... I'll have to ask my advisor about that, as soon as he is back from vacation. Funny thing about his vacation, I remember kicking him into a dragon's maul and telling him to return in a week. Odd.... Anyway on to business. I'm writing this letter, err, memoir? Music? Eh you get my point. You see I was having a stroll through the wonderful city of Solitude, beautiful place by the water. Bards were there, beggars, thieves, the usual rift raff. I decided to go

"You never said why you were here." Elizabeth said as she poured the cup of hot water into a cup. "You never asked me." Vladimir replied"Are you going to tell me then?" She asked with a small smile, "Probably not." He says taking a drink from the cup. The smile disappeared from her face, "Well I'm not going to push you if you don't want to tell me." She pouts playfully before yanking her head to the door as it's slammed open. In walked three men, clad in fur and iron armor along with long burly beards. "Wench! Boss wants his money!" The largest of them yelled, "I'm with a customer, can't this wait?!" She pleaded. "Not it you want to keep tha

Out in the forest of Skyrim stood two men, brothers none the less. Vladimir Cravenlock barely the age of 20, with his brother Isaac just hitting 14. Both stood in steel armor, with swords clutched in hand, a long curved blade in Vladimir's hand and the standard long sword in Isaac's hand. Without a word the fight begun. The sound of steel rung out as the two swords collided with each other. Vladimir quickly pulled away and attempt to swing at Isaac's leg only to be stopped by the opposing sword, Isaac took the offensive and swung down with both hands on the handle. Vladimir rolled out of the way and quickly pulled himself up. Both stood stil

Intro:     Burning gates. Bloody fields. Mountains of Hate! Spears impale the millions! Verse:     Blood of man, makes a river! Ever flowing, never ending, never stopping flow. Souls of the canned, the ever thirsting, never find relieve! Welcome to Hell! Chorus: Bodies by the millions impaled by spears. Demons feast on their flesh as they suffer an eternity. Flames burn their bodies as they scream in misery. This is the Erotica of Death! Verse#2:     Hammers of Hell ring as they meet the meet the anvil of men. Blood use to cool the metals of damnation. Preparing the armies of Hell! Chorus: This is the realm of the necrophiliac, and home o

*Ten Years Ago in the City of Krakish* Out in the open field of a large manor a younger Vladimir practices against a wooden target, his sword of iron in his right hand, and his dagger in his right. Being just a recruit of the Ancient Order he was new to training with two weapons and sneaking with his size. He was treated like all others given small rations and water to live off a every day, drilled through days of practice without sleep. Though it wasn't all bad, he meant Julia there. *Outside a Tavern in Krakish* Vladimir stepped out of the tavern dressed in the black robes of the assassins, Julia following him in a more casual dress. Bot

I walk on, feeling the grass under foot, as the smell of Winter is in the air. To you I have kept a promise, and to the Reverend I keep the same promise. I walk this path again with no resistance, only acceptance. To you I speak to every time we meet, I speak not with hate but love. We meet again and we speak again, though it is very one-sided. Together we are never alone in this world. A rose in my hand for the one I loved in this world. A ring on my hand given to me by you when we were mere children. I stand now before these Cementary Gates with a tear rolling down my cheek.

Three years. It's been three years since her death, and it has been three years since I left this room, and three years since I have left my throne, which sits right next to her's. The morning Sun finally arrives turning the sky a blood red, as it should be. Since her death none of my sons or daughters have seen me. Still images of that day ravage my mind, of her beautiful pale skin, her luxurious brown hair, and her ruby red eyes, impaled on the sword of an angel. My beautiful Victoria, how your face still haunts me, when I'm awake and the nightmares I suffer when I'm asleep. Long has it been since I've gone to our room, and long has it bee