Vile Thing

The Shunned one

Ch.1 [Rough Draft][finally some simple correction,  Still no native english editor.]

Even at a young age He remembered his mothers face always held such a kind smile.
Syd never once heard her say a bad thing about a single soul...

So to see that the followers of Dibella would ignore her presence only confused the young boy.
Still he was raised surrounded by art and creativity, told how these were the gifts and beautiful things given to them by Dibella.
His mother praised the passion Dancer and never spoke an ill word.
So Syd at the earliest memories in his head, always created, always admired art, beauty, kindness and love.

As he grew older it was clear, She had done something that the Divines did not approve of, or her punishment was that she was not accepted by Dibellas followers, But tolerated. Allowed to come worship, but that was all.

In time the boy became angry, Seeing his mother only talk kindness, speak so artistically and poetically... her heart was too big for her own good... He asked often why the priestesses Rarely looked at or spoke to them.

His answer came so often in the form of such a warm loving smile, as his mother sat aside a pen or paint brush.
Sometimes she would pull a flower which she often wore in her elegantly styled dark hair.
She would place in his hand a brush, a pen, a flower.. and explain it was just their way, and asking the Divine Lady to be anything else, Would not be the goddess that inspired so much beauty,love and wonderful things.

As a small child he was satisfied with this for he had been taught hate, anger, rage, envy, were things that made the world lose a piece of beauty with every foul act carried out in one of the negative emotions.

He was cared for, raised kindly, and the best his mother could alone..A loved child, not neglected nor taught any sign of unkindness.
It was when he was 11 and befriended 2 local children.
That he became aware He had no father.
The moment he asked, His mother gave a sad smile saying only His father was charming, smart, and witty and could not be with them.

His mind had by now known this was why she was shunned from her religion, this was why she remained alone. There was something surely his mother was not telling him.
He knew nothing of her past, Only that she could be a light skinned or part redguard, possibly a breton, She had the strange Angular features of an Elf, even slight hints of points on her ears, which he also inherited.

Even at this age He wanted to know so much about where they came from. Her sad expression that day kept him from asking further.

He snapped out of his memories, back to his pint of mead.
Grown up, He still had the soul.of an artist, But it was bitter and tainted.
He was a natural at thieving, simple assassin work, He assumed he had inherited some of his mothers delicate features, and talent, crediting his Charm which helped him make coin in all of these ways to his mothers blessing.

She was gone now... his home coming was to bury his mother.
Everyone always said his mother was a beautiful woman, still to this day.. She certainly did not age like a typical breton...if that was what she was..
He was not like her in his fair skin or reddish hair though...

He was told a man she was too kind to, stalked her, Followed her and finally took her life when she refused the mans advances...this made Syds pale skin turn red as he thought on it... Bastard was rotting in jail.
He wanted him dead.. his mother never spoke ill of anyone, never showed unkindness...forgave everyone.. this wasnt supposed to happen to people like her...

People who knew what monsters their sons became... Accepted them, loved them...
No this infuriated him...
He had to break into the prison and send the bastard to a hellish plane of oblivion or another...
In these deep hateful thoughts only the loud snap of the mead bottle shattering in his hand.

His oddly colored Amber eyes snapped to his hand, releasing shards of glass and blood.
A sigh escaping as he cleaned up the jagged mess then cleaned then bandaged his hand.
Sleep, he needed to sleep, facing all of this tomorrow was going to be heavy, too heavy...he was a grown man now, but felt like a lost child.

With these thoughts he drifted off to sleep on the cheap inns bed.
His sleep plagued with an image of his mother thrown out into the cold, heavy with child.. so was this a vision of his own past?

In this dream? Vision?... whatever he was seeing his mother was freezing on temple steps, knocking he heard her beg for shelter for her childs sake...the priestess at the door looked down on them, turning her away. He woke as he dreamt his mother took shelter in a shrine having to find a place to keep warm.
Her eyes closed and then.. he woke to the bright dawns light shining in his hung over eyes.