Who are your favorite characters in Skyrim
Palla, Volume II
Palla, Volume II
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Palla. Pal La. The name burned in my heart. I found myself whispering it to myself during class, even when trying to concentrate on what the master was saying. My lips silently formed the word "Pal" and my tongue flicked out slightly to form the "la," as if kissing her ghost in front of me. It was insane in every way except that I knew it was insane. I knew I was in love. I knew she was a noble Redguard woman, a fierce warrior even more beautiful than the stars. I knew that their young daughter Betaniqi had bought a mansion near the guild and that they liked me, maybe even fell in love with me. I knew that Palla had fought and killed a terrible beast. I knew Palla was dead.
Like I said, I knew it was insane, and so I knew I couldn't be insane. But I also knew that I had to return to Betaniqi's palace to see her statue of my beloved Palla in the final, deadly battle against this terrible monster.
I kept coming back too. If Betaniqi, as a noblewoman, had possessed another being and had felt more comfortable among their own kind, I would not have had so many opportunities to do so. In her naivete and ignorant of my sick obsession, she welcomed my company. We talked for hours, laughed together, and each time we walked to the sparkling pond, where I always stopped breathlessly in front of the statue of her mother.
"It's a wonderful tradition for you that you immortalize your ancestors in their heroic moments through these characters," I said, feeling their curious gaze. "And this craftsmanship is second to none."
"Believe it or not," the girl laughed, "it caused a little scandal when my great-grandfather began this custom. We Redguards honor our ancestors, but we are warriors, not artists. The first statues were made by made by a traveling artist my grandfather hired and everyone admired them until it turned out the artist was an elf: an Altmer from the Summerset Islands. "
"It actually was," Betaniqi nodded seriously. "The idea that the hands of an inflated, evil elf had sculpted these statues of noble Redguard warriors was an incredible, irreverent blasphemy, the worst you can imagine. But my great-grandfather had a sense of beauty and philosophy He passed on to us to take the best to honor the best, and it was out of the question for me to hire a lesser artist to make my parents' statues, even if that would have made me more loyal to my people. "
"They are all excellent," I said.
"But you like my mother's most of all," she smiled. "I've noticed how you keep looking at her, even when you're pretending to be looking at the others. She's my favorite character too."
"Would you tell me more about her?" I asked, trying to keep speaking conversationally.
"Oh, she would have said she was nothing out of the ordinary, but she was," said the girl as she plucked a flower from the garden. "My father died when I was really young, so she had to take on a lot of roles, but she did it easily. We have a lot of business interests and she handled everything very well. In any case, better than me today. She just had to smile. and everyone obeyed her. And those who didn't pay dearly for it. She was very witty and charming, but also a fearsome opponent when she had to fight. There were hundreds of fights, but I can't remember a moment where I felt neglected or unloved. I believed she was literally too strong to die. Stupid, I know, but when she went away to fight this - that terrible creature, that monster from the laboratory of a mad magician fighting, it never occurred to me that she would not be able to return. She was loving to friends and ruthless to enemies. What more can be said about a woman like that than that ? "
Poor Betaniqi's eyes filled with tears at the memory. What kind of villain was I that I made her do it just to satisfy my perverse desires? No mortal could ever have been tempted by Sheogorath more than I. I was deeply saddened, but at the same time obsessed with my desires. Palla not only looked like a goddess - according to her daughter's description, she was one too.
When I undressed to go to bed that evening, I rediscovered the black disk that I had stolen from Magister Tendixus' office a few weeks earlier. I
had almost forgotten the existence of this mysterious necromantic artifact with which the magician believed he could revive a deceased lover. Almost instinctively I put the disk on my heart and whispered "Palla".
For a moment my room was filled with freezing cold. My breath hung in the air like mist, only to dissolve. Startled, I dropped the pane. It was a moment before I could think rationally again. And then came the inescapable conclusion: With this artifact, I was able to grant my wish.
Until the early hours of the morning I tried to free my mistress from the chains of the realm of oblivion, but it was of no use. I wasn't a necromancer. I considered asking one of my masters for help, but then I remembered that Magister Ilther had instructed me to destroy the pane. If I went to them, they would expel me from the guild and destroy the disc, and with it the only key to resurrecting my loved ones.
The next day, I spent lessons in my usual half-awake state. Magister Ilther himself gave a lecture on his specialty, the school of enchantment. He was a boring speaker with a monotonous voice, but suddenly I felt as if every shadow had left the room and I was in a palace of light.
"When it comes to my special client, most people think of the process of invention itself, that is, the filling of objects with magic or spell. The creation of a magical blade, for example, or a ring. But a magician of skill is also a catalyst. A spirit that does something Being able to create something new can conjure up even greater power from the old. A ring that creates warmth on a beginner's finger can burn an entire forest into ashes in the hand of a master. " The fat magician laughed softly: "Not that I want to encourage you to do so. We'd rather leave that to the school of annihilation."
That week all novices were asked to choose a specialty. Everyone was surprised when I turned my back on my favorite field so far, the school of illusion. It suddenly struck me as ridiculous that I should ever have fallen for such superficial sorcery. My attention was now directed exclusively to the School of Enchantment, by means of which I would be able to unleash the power of the disc.
I hardly slept in the months that followed. Every week I spent a few hours with Betaniqi and my statue to gain new strength and inspiration. The rest of the time I was with Magister Ilther or his assistant and learned as much as I could about enchanting. They taught me to get to the deepest levels of magic stored within an object.
"No matter how skillfully and how spectacularly it is pronounced, a simple spell, once pronounced, is fleeting and short-lived. It is what it is and nothing more," sighed Magister Ilther. "But if it is trapped in an object, it develops into an almost living energy that grows and matures. Pronounced by an inexperienced magician, only its surface is effective. You have to consider yourself a miner who has to dig deeper in order to get to the heart to get out of gold. "
At night, when the laboratory was left, I would practice what I had learned. I noticed that my strength increased, and with it the strength of the disc. Whispering "Palla" to me, I immersed myself in the artifact. I traced the engraved runes and felt every facet of the gemstones. At times I was so close to her that I could feel hands touching mine. But something dark and bestial, the reality of death, as I assumed, stole into my dream again and again. It brought with it an overwhelming, putrid stench that the novices in the neighboring chambers began to complain about.
"Something must have crawled under the floorboards and died," I apologized lamely.
Magister Ilther praised my erudition and allowed me to use his laboratory in the hours after class to deepen my studies. But no matter how hard I studied, Palla hardly seemed closer. Then one night it was all over. I rocked myself in a deep intoxication and moaned her name to myself as the disc on my chest got heavier and heavier. Suddenly a bolt of lightning went through the window, which destroyed my concentration. A heavy thunderstorm broke over Mir Corrup. I went to the window to close the shutters and when I returned to my table I discovered that the window had shattered.
I burst into sobs that turned into hysterical laughter. It was too much for my fragile mind to endure such a loss after so much time and study. I spent the next day and the day after that in bed with a raging fever. If I hadn't been in a mages guild with so many healers, I would probably have died. As it was, I made an excellent subject of study for the young scholars.
When I finally recovered enough to walk, I went to Betaniqi. Charming as ever, she didn't mention my appearance with a single syllable, although I must have looked terrible. In the end she looked worried when I politely but firmly refused to go for a walk with her by the sparkling pond.
"But you love to look at the statues," she said, surprised.
I found that I owed her the truth and much more. "Dear lady, I love even more than the statues. I love your mother. I have been unable to think of anything but her for months, ever since you unveiled her statue before my eyes. I don't know what you are now think of me, but I worked like a madman to raise her from death. "
Betaniqi stared at me with wide eyes. Finally she said: "I think you should go now. I don't know if this is supposed to be a terrible joke ..."
"Believe me, I wish it were. See, I've failed. I don't know why. It can't be because my love wasn't strong enough because no man has ever felt stronger love. Perhaps my knowledge is inadequate as an enchanter, but in any case it is not due to a lack of diligence! " I realized I was raising my voice and I knew I was getting excited, but I couldn't hold back. "Perhaps the mistake is that your mother did not know me. On the other hand, I believe that only the wizard's love matters in the necromancy. I don't know why it was! Perhaps the terrible creature, the monster, did that killed her, put a kind of curse on her with his last breath! I failed! And I don't know why! "
With a speed and strength surprising for such a small lady, Betaniqi pushed me away. She shouted "Get out with you!" and I flew out the door.
Before she slammed the door, I made my pathetic apology: "I'm so sorry, Betaniqi, but remember, I wanted to bring your mother back to you too. It's madness, but there's only one thing in my life that I'm with Knowing security, namely that I love Palla. "
The door was almost closed, but the girl opened it a crack to ask in a trembling voice: "You love whom?"
"Palla!" I screamed to heaven.
"My mother," she whispered angrily, "was Xarlys. Palla was the monster's name."
After staring at the closed door, Mara knows how long, I made the long walk back to the Mages Guild. Rummaging through my mind, I tried to remember that night of lights and legends so long ago when I saw the statue for the first time and heard my lover's name for the first time. That Breton novice, Gelyn, had pronounced it. He was behind me. Didn't he mean the lady, but the beast?
As I turned into the lonely road that leads to Mir Corrup, a large shadow rose from the ground that had crouched there and waited for me.
"Palla," I moaned. "Pal La."
"Kiss me," he growled.
And that brings me to the present moment with my story. Love is red like blood.
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