Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

Wolfmane Chronicles

As flames arise all around, the air is filled with the sounds of screams and howls. Arrows pierce the night air striking a fleeing villager in the back, killing him upon impact. Other villagers run for their lives while some make a stand to fight their attackers. Members of the Silver Hand charge into the village in full force. Their numbers are large as the few villagers standing their ground against them begin to change shape; growing larger in size as they turn into werewolves. The Silver Hand clashes with the villagers before they are able to fully transform. Not all make it to their full werewolf form and are cut down as steel tears through flesh. The only defense in the village is made short work of. Those who did reach full beast form and instantly beheaded before they can do any real fighting.

The villagers who fled the village are met by other Silver Hand forces outside and are attacked. Men, women, and children and slain like animals as the Silver Hand slaughters the remaining villagers they find. Very few escape the horrific fate of death, using the wilds for cover as their attackers lose sight of them in the mayhem. One of the small few of escaped villagers is a young girl, no older than four. As the night goes on, the surviving villagers are left with no choice, but to remain still and hidden as they watch helpless while the Silver Hand help themselves to the spoils of their attack on the village. Remaining villagers; mostly women are raped countless times before slain. The screams and cries of the victims echo through the night as the horrific actions continue until dawn.

Once the Silver Hand leaves the now destroyed village, the remaining villagers take their leave of the place they once called home and head out to a new place to stay. The harshness of Skyrim takes its toll on the surviving villagers as their numbers slim down even fewer as the wilderness, cold, and bandit attacks claim the lives of more villagers. Years pass as the now nomad tribe has made their home in the cold mountains of Skyrim. As time passes by, the little girl; now filled with anger, is determined to get back at all those who have taken so much from them. She trains herself constantly day after day. Aging from child to adult as time goes on, she masters her use of bows and heavy two-handed weapons. She becomes one of the fiercest warriors, barbarians in the tribe. Despite the years since the Silver Hand's vicious attack on the village she once called home, time has not allowed her to forget that horrific night, and the hatred in her heart for them has only fueled her in the battles she won against bandits who sought to take away what little she has left. Now the time has come and she is ready to enact revenge upon those who destroyed her home village so many years ago.

The now young Nordic woman is moments away from leaving her tribe to start her own adventure of vengeance when the tribe leader approaches her in her tent.

"Naola, you mustn't do this, child. Time heals over old wounds. Surely time has healed over yours."

The blonde haired barbarian woman covers herself up in a large bear hide before turning to look at the large older Nordic warrior; his face covered mostly by his brown and gray bushy beard and long hair, slightly hiding the many scars battles have left on him. Naola takes a long look at him before responding;

"You of all should know the Gods expect us to take action, not cower in corners and left our enemies destroy our homes. Talos would not allow it, as Nords, we should not allow it."

A heavy sigh comes over the tribe leaders as his words fail to reach Naola, but he leaves her with one last set of wise words to keep in mind;

"Nords are strong and fierce, a force to be reckoned with. Keep in mind child; that goes for all Nords, not just you, not just us here."

Naola grabs her hunter's bow and arrows, steel great sword, and walks towards the tribe leader. As she makes her way to his side, she stops and continues to look ahead as she says to him;

"Then I must be stronger, fiercer, and an even greater force to be reckoned with. The Silver Hand will fall to my arrows and be cut down by my blade."

Before she can walk out the tent, the tribe leader grabs her by the arm. Naola looks back at him;

"And what if fate has other plans for you? What if vengeance isn't what the Gods have intended for you?"

Naola is quick to respond back;

"Then the Gods will have to wait their turn before I follow their intent. Talos would understand and Talos shall guide me blade into every last sworn Silver Hand until all have been reunited in the depths of Oblivion."

Naola moves in close, inches from her tribe leader's face;

"And that is the fate I have decided for me. No man or God shall change me from the path I have chosen."

She then jerks her arm out of his grasp and walks out of the tent. As she makes her way out of the camp she has called home for years, members of the tribe watch on as Naola walks her way through and into the cold wilderness as a snow storm begins to make its way through. One of the tribe members attempts to catch up to Naola, but is stopped when the tribe leader places a hand on their shoulder. The tribe member looks back at him as the leader shakes his head before saying;

"She is no longer a member of this tribe. Her rage and hatred have made her into something different, something none of us are capable of handling. Blood and death are her only company, vengeance is her desired weapon. Leave her be now, let me make her own path in life."

Naola makes her way through the harsh coldness of the snow storm. The tempature drops down to devastating levels, for a lesser man this would've brought them to death, but for her this was nothing. Her Nordic blood aides her well in the cold's torment as she makes her way down the mountain. Halfway down Naola hears a faint sound in the distance, but can barely make out what it is. The sound gets louder and louder and before she realizes what it is, it's too late as a powerful strike across the face sends her tumbling down the mountain side a great distance. All the while, the sound of her vicious attacker is heard as it follows close behind her. Through the fast paced rolling down the snowy mountain she catches glimpses of the beastly attacker, its white fur, muscular build, and ferrous growls; a snow troll.

Naola ceases her rolling and gets to her feet before the snow troll makes its way to her. Just as the snow troll is about to attack, she quickly moves out the way to avoid the attack. The snow troll's attack leaves a small indention in the snow where Naola was standing. Reaching to her back, she grabs her great sword and makes her stand against the snow troll. The waves his arms up, indicating that it is ready to kill her and runs towards her with a loud ferrous roar that would scare a lesser warrior into submission. Naola charges at the snow troll before making a swing with her steel great sword. The attack hits the snow troll, but only in his forearm as it blocked the attack from hitting its head. The blade is half way in the arm, but stuck as the snow troll wastes no time waling at the Nordic barbarian. Her hands never let go of the great sword as she drops to her knees in pain from the mighty blows from the beast. Knowing that her journey may end before it even begins, she thinks quickly. Reaching to her quiver of arrows, she grabs one before standing back up, and stabs it into the top middle eye of the snow troll. The beast is met with tremendous amounts of pain as Naola manages to pull her sword out of the snow trolls arm.

Regaining her footing, she watches as the snow troll's forearm heals before her eyes while it yanks the arrow out of its eye and tosses it aside with the eye stuck on the arrow. Naola charges the beast head on with her sword in hand. She leaps into the air and cuts down on the snow, her blade; buried in the snow troll's forehead does little to slow him down as he swings powerful strike after strike at Naola. The strikes cause her to stumble back with her sword still in hand. Before she can regain her footing the snow troll tackles her, knocking them both further down the snow filled mountain side. The two tumble down the mountain and eventually roll off a rocky edge that sends them falling fifteen feet. Crashing down on the hard rocky ground; Naola is stricken with pain as her attacker gets to its feet with ease. The snow troll looks at Naola and makes its way to her. Naola can't help but think back at the helpless villagers of her old home as they were slaughtered and victimized by the Silver Hand. Hatred soon overcomes her and she grabs her great sword next to her and moves out the way before the snow troll stomps down where she was. To her feet she lets out a fearsome battle cry; so loud, so terrifying, that even the snow troll for an instant ceased all action. An instant was all that was needed as she makes an underway swing with her great sword; tearing into the snow troll from the groin up, until the beast it cut in two. Falling apart; Naola is covered in the blood of her fallen foe as it splits and splatters its remains on once white rocking surface. Knowing her battle is won, she sheaves her sword and struggles to continue on her journey, now hurt and broken due to the fight. She covers little ground before she faints from the pain.

Not too far from where Naola is unconscious; a fight between soldiers of the Empire and Stormcloak rebels erupts. The battle is short lived as the rebels find themselves out numbered, they are forced to surrender. As the legion gathers up the rebels, a passerby on horse is also picked off and captured. Upon searching the area a soldier stumbles upon Naola lying on the ground. Calling for assistance, they capture her as well. Placing the prisoners in the wagon the soldiers make a trip to Helgen to deal with the captured prisoners accordingly.