Revenge Of Makinath: Characters (W.I.P) by J.A Green (namjoon book recommendations .TXT) 📕

Makinath: was a Breton born back in the beginning of the Third Era in Cyrodiil.  He was part of a large force that was sent by Uriel Septim IV to combat the ever-present threat of the Camoran Usurper. When he arrived in Hammerfell, the city that he’d arrived in called Skaven. It was surrounded by forty foot sandstone walls that encircled the perimeter and there was a watchtower in each corner of the city . By the time Makinath and the other mercenaries arrived, the city was under siege by a legion of undead alik’r and breton soldiers.

They were viciously clawing at the wooden gate with their gnarled, rotting fingers, while a few of the archers were quickly shooting arrows at the advancing horde, hoping to at least slow their siege long enough for the citizens to escape. At first It looked like it was working, as the undead were starting to fall faster, since slowly, more and more archers as well as some mages started to join the resistance. Halfway through the day, when they’d defeated a majority of his forces , Makinath saw the pile of twisted corpses rise up into the air, suspended. And he watched as they slowly were bound together and slowly combined into a giant ball of flesh and bone, the sound made Makinath’s face cringed in disgust. The air was suddenly filled with the putrid smell of rotting flesh, as the ball had began spinning faster, bone fragments flying out in all directions, a flurry of white shards flew towards the archers and pierced each one in the head with a sickening *thunk*. They shrieked in pain, their wailing cries of agony  only piercing the silence for a couple of seconds before they violently collapsed to the floor, and within an instant they were suspended in the air and their bodies flung towards the giant ball of flesh.

Then the ball slowly contorted, forming what looked like a misshapen head without eyes, covered in deep slashes and festering scars. It’s arms and legs were long and bulky, they ended in club-like stumps that had metal-looking spikes covering the ends that shone as black as ebony. The terrifying beast stood taller than the forty foot walls that surrounded the city, it roared with rage and started angrily pounding the floor, creating shockwaves that caused some of the men standing near the edge of the wall to plummet to their demise. Everyone stood there in shock, unsure of what to do next while the beast made a slow, yet terrifying advance towards the gates of the city.

One of the mages stepped forward, fire in his eyes and hands as threw a huge fireball towards the beast, the fireball flew rapidly towards it , but instead of hitting it’s true target  the fireball dissipated right before it hit the abomination . Makinath turned towards the mage in shock and disbelief, then the mages chest started to rapidly convulse as it slowly started to rip open, he collapsed grabbing his tearing chest as he was the skin and flesh being slowly torn off of his body. He shrieked in unbearable agony and disbelief, everybody frozen from the horror that was in front of them, until the only thing left of the mage was a skeleton. He turned to look at Makinath, his skin and flesh lying on the floor beside him dripping with blood, as every joint in the mage’s body creaked.  Blood leaking from the holes where his eyes used to be, “Look what you’ve done!” He yelled. “No, No, No!” the mage said in a hysterical tone. All of a sudden he stopped, as a bright blue glow filled his sockets. All of a sudden he screeched, causing every man nearby to cover their ears, as he ran at inhuman speed towards Makinath while he was still recovering, tackling him which caused him to slam hard into the ground. He was dazed, but felt a hot, searing pain on the left side of his neck as the skeleton was trying to gouge out his throat with it’s bony fingers.

Makinath tried to push the skeleton off of him, but it felt like a horker was sitting on top of his chest. Then all of a sudden, one of the other mages threw an ice spike at the skeleton’s chest, but instead of hitting the skeleton, it phased through it and hit Makinath square in the stomach. And within an instant, the skeleton turned to the other defenders and levitated them all into the air, and then one by one sent them flying toward the hulking beast in the distance. And as soon as they made contact, they were absorbed by it, causing the monstrosity to grow a foot in size for every man thrown. The men screaming in fear as they were flung towards it . Makinath still lying on the floor, the ice spike slowly melting causing the pain to become greater and made every breath harder. Then the skeleton lifted him in the air, slowly stripping the skin and flesh from his bones, Makinath screeching in agony. Passing out because the pain became too great to bear. He awoke in darkness, the only thing he can feel is the linen wrap he’s laying on.

He feels a pain in his chest, he reaches down and almost immediately feels a small, weird sphere that glowed a dark, ominous green when he touched it. He looked down and saw nothing but bone where his flesh used to be, “Wake up” he whispered to himself, hoping that this was all an illusion, he tried punching himself as hard as he could in his leg. “Divines that hurt!” he shouted as he winced at the pain, feeling a crack in his hand and leg. He looked up, noticing a flicker of movement as  the light of a torch was approaching in the distance, for some odd reason he had the desire to cover his eyes from the bright light. As the men drew closer, he saw the tombs of the Alik’r soldiers have been looted and the skeletons were on the floor in pieces, it became clear then that he was in a crypt, he looked down at what he was lying down on, intricate carvings on a stone as dark as night. And beside him were some vials full of dark liquid and embalming tools covered in what he assumed was blood. He assumed that he was lying down on some sort of altar where he must’ve been subjected to something horrible.While  The room was still somewhat dark, he could now see the rotting corpses of contorted men and women in a disgusting heap a few feet away from the altar, skeever’s feeding on the deteriorating flesh. As the men approached, the skeevers scattered, running back to the depths of the darkness.The men came closer, and Makinath saw that they were cloaked in black robes and dark masks that obscured their faces, large tomes and filled vials hung from their torn leather belts.

Two of the men walked up and grabbed Makinath by his arms and pinned him to the altar, while one of them bellowed “ I see you’re awake, it’s too bad that you’re too late.” Makinath tried to respond, but every time he tried to move his jaw, all that came out was an ear piercing scream. “ What’s the matter, can’t speak?” one man said in a mocking tone. “Well since you’re going to be my puppet, we might as well get to know one another” the man on the left side of him said with a menacing tone “the people of Tamriel call me the Camoran Usurper” He added a disgruntled hiss when he spoke the accursed name.  Makinath tried to struggle, but to no avail, the Usurper cackled and sent a spell flying towards Makinath. When the spell hit him, it caused a searing pain in his chest as it activated the green stone in his chest, and green energy started slowly flowing out, filling Makinath with a great evil, this caused him to develop sudden hatred for the living and a deep seated thirst for revenge.

He arose, and thought of the most horrible thing he could think of, out of nowhere a swarm of skeevers and locusts appeared and enveloped most of the men and devoured them, leaving only piles of bones where the men once stood. All except the Usurper, whom had somehow escaped. It drove him mad with anger, causing him to resurrect the necromancer’s skeletons and spend the next hour killing them over and over again in the most horrific ways. After his fit of rage subsided,he stood there and vowed that from that day on that he would never be so weak and foolish ever again.

M’arathkar: A young Khajiit who was raised in Elsweyr, born in the city of Dune in the region of Reaper’s March. It’s a region covered in vast savannahs, broken up by lush and untamed forests that are scattered across the region. He was born to his father Jo’rekan, who was an accomplished scholar and wizard, who was renowned for his innovations in the school of restoration. He learned how to harness the divine light and thus created many new spells that have been used to decimate the undead. And his mother Ra’simmi, who is a war general in the Aldmeri dominion and is currently part of a fleet sent to Skyrim. She is a battle-hardened warrior ,who is always away from her son and husband because of the on-going war in Skyrim. And most of the memories he has of her is when a large bag of septims came in every month, and his father would stare longingly at it.

The first few years of his life, his mother spent taking care of him and taking him to her favourite places in Dune. One of these places was The Stalls, a market where smells of fondue and moon sugar pies filled the air, where weaponsmiths would stand in the forge, sweat beading down their fur as they forged malachite and moonstone into the finest of swords and daggers. The trip started out well, he and his mother went to the baker’s and purchased a moon sugar pie. They exited the store, and started walking through the stalls, both of them slowly picking away at the pie, a tingling sensation danced across his taste buds every time the warm moonsugar filling hit his tongue. His mother stopped, looking towards a burnt down stall, wood ashes covering the floor sprinkled with fresh embers. She looked at it with disdain and confusion, stood there for a few seconds and turned to leave.

And just as she was about to, a tall, muscular khajiit came up and said “ A shame, isn’t it'', his mother turned around and just nodded her head, too upset to speak. “This one understands, the man who owned this stand had the greatest goods in Dune” he stated, with a hint of anger