Before I wrote Dovahsil, I started working on a fanfic about the very first character I ever created on Skyrim - Kyrie Dragonheart - and all the other characters I created to exist in her world. Dovahsil was actually the second or third idea I came up with, and is actually based on one of my most recent characters. The other day I "rediscovered" my older fanfic, Age of Heroes and, being easily prone to nostalgia, decided to work on it again. So, here it is.
To be honest, this one is mostly for my brother and my friends IRL, considering the numerous OCs that exist in the story. This is especially true since some of the characters are actually my brother's. (He likes coming up with ideas, but hates writing). I plan on working on this story along with Dovahsil, so for those of you who are enjoying that one, never fear. It will continue. And since Dovahsil and Age of Heroes are two separate stories (not based in the same universe), you can read one or both without worrying about spoilers. At least, you don't have to worry about fanfic spoilers. Can say so much for in-game/quest spoilers. ;)
The story is rated T for violence, some bad language, and alcohol use, but if at any point you think I should change the rating to M, just let me know. I'm not very good at figuring out how to rate these things.
Anyway, if you don't mind lots of OCs, feel free to read. Constructive criticism/encouragement is always appreciated. Flames are not. Happy reading!
Update: Well…it's been a while since I last wrote on this since all my spare energy was being channeled into finishing Dovahsil. Now that that's complete, though, I'm shifting my attention back to AoH. Expect to see some updates before I post any new chapters, just to make sure everything is as polished as I can make it. Hope you enjoy this new adventure! Happy reading!
A cool breeze rustled through the treetops as Kyrie trudged along a small animal trail that wound down from the mountains and into the forest beyond. The wind played at the ends of the young woman's deep red hair which hung about her shoulders, save for a bit on either side of her face which had been pulled away and tied at the back of her head. A scuffed iron sword hung at her hip, clanking lightly as Kyrie walked, but save for the clanking of her sword, the whisper of the wind, and the light patting of feet, no sound broke the stillness of the forest.
For a moment, Kyrie paused, glancing this way and that at her surroundings. That big tree there…hadn't she seen it not too long ago? Or was this a different one? No. This definitely couldn't be the same tree. She glanced around, looking for some other indication that she was still going in the right direction.
"Lost again?" came a voice from just behind her.
The young woman turned to look at her traveling companion: her younger sister, Ayrlyn. The girl looked up at Kyrie through familiar brown eyes so much like her own. The wind that shifted through the trees played at Ayrlyn's dark red hair which was pulled up into a high ponytail. She stood with one hand on her hip, a playful yet exasperated look on her narrow face.
"I'm not lost," Kyrie laughed uneasily, picking up her pace again. "I think…"
Her sister chuckled behind her.
"Just let me know when you want to look at my map," Ayrlyn sighed. "Though I'm beginning to think you just really like going in circles."
Kyrie paused long enough to stick her tongue out at her sister.
"Back at you," Ayrlyn laughed. "Are you certain you're 25?"
"Last I checked," the older girl grinned over her shoulder.
"If you say so."
Again Kyrie laughed, turning her attention back to the trail before her. She was glad to have her sister with her.
It had been years since Kyrie and Ayrlyn had set foot in their homeland of Skyrim. Though Nords by blood, the two sisters had spent most of their lives in Cyrodiil, having come to live with some family friends after the deaths of their father and mother during the Great War. But now even that life was becoming a distant memory. Their adoptive father, Albecius, had died in a mining accident a few years earlier, and recently, their adoptive mother, Selvia, had also passed away. With Albecius and Selvia gone, and since the old Imperial couple had no family to speak of, Kyrie and Ayrlyn no longer had any reason to stay in Cyrodiil. And so they had ventured out, hoping to find their long-lost kinsmen in Skyrim.
The trip had been Kyrie's idea. The young woman was a voracious reader and, having recently gotten her hands on a collection of books regarding Skyrim, she had suddenly felt the urge to return to the land in which she had been born. Ayrlyn had been perfectly content in the Imperial City. She had even been talking about joining the Arcane University. However, when Kyrie expressed her decision to return to the land of their forefathers, the younger girl had quietly packed her things and followed along. That was just how Ayrlyn was: gentle, content, loyal, always putting other peoples' interests above her own. Her personality was both her greatest strength and her greatest flaw.
As birds chirped in the trees and small animals darted in and out of the underbrush, Kyrie smiled to herself. Ayrlyn teased her about refusing to look at the map. It was true that Kyrie was stubborn. She liked to do things on her own, without relying on other sources - living or not - to help her out. It was an ego thing, really. But Ayrlyn wasn't entirely wrong when she jokingly said Kyrie liked wandering in circles, because the truth was that Kyrie did like going in circles. At least, right now she did. Having lived in Cyrodiil since she was a child, the young woman had grown accustomed to the warmth of the southern reaches of Tamriel. But Skyrim...there was a spirit about its wild forests and brisk air that made her heart dance. And so she didn't worry about getting to a town right away. They had enough provisions to last several days and no particular destination in mind. There was no reason to rush in their travels.
Kyrie paused as she came to the top of a small rise in the path and glanced back at Ayrlyn who came puffing up behind her. Poor Ayrlyn. She wasn't quite as fit as her older sister. Kyrie liked to read, but she also had spent a lot of time training in the hope of one day joining the Imperial Legion. Ayrlyn, though, was little more than a mage. Her strength came in the power of her mind, not in the power of her body.
"Shall we find a place to camp?" Kyrie suggested, noticing for the first time how long the shadows in the forest had grown.
"I like that idea," Ayrlyn nodded, bracing her hands on her thighs to catch her breath. "My feet like that idea, too."
"Come on," the older girl urged, turning to continue walking. "I'm sure we'll find a good place to camp before too long."
Again the two young women set off, their attentions turning more and more to the growing darkness in the forest surrounding them. The sun had already slipped over the horizon when the scent of campfire smoke wafted up Kyrie's nose.
"Do you smell that?" she asked, pausing to search for the direction the scent was coming from.
Ayrlyn trotted to her side and glanced around.
"Smoke?"
"Campfire smoke. Maybe there's someone nearby who would be willing to share their camp with us."
Ayrlyn frowned doubtfully but didn't say anything as Kyrie set off in the direction of the smell. A moment later they stepped out into a clearing. There was a crackling fire in the center of the clearing, round, polished river rocks encircling the pit in which the fire was built. An imposing woman sat to one side of the fire, her keen grey eyes watching the dancing flames. She was broad-shouldered and looked to be rather tall, though Kyrie wasn't certain if she actually was that large or if her heavy iron armor was merely creating the illusion of size. A bag of meager provisions rested on the ground to the woman's left while an iron greatsword glittered from where it lay to the woman's right. She glanced up languidly when Kyrie and Ayrlyn appeared.
"Can I help you?" the woman asked, glancing between the two. Her voice was deep, laden with a thick Nordic accent, and nearly as imposing as her looks, though there was no hint of hostility in her tone.
Kyrie blinked, for a moment at a loss for words, then she straightened up and said, "Forgive us for intruding, but we were wondering if we might sit by your campfire. We've been looking for a place to spend the night."
"Why not?" the woman shrugged, motioning for Kyrie and Ayrlyn to take a seat. "There's more than enough room. Stay as long as you like."
"Thank you," Kyrie smiled, glad that the stranger was less imposing in manner than in looks.
"You two look pretty well done in," the stranger mused as Kyrie and Ayrlyn plopped their rucksacks on the ground and took a seat by the fire.
"Just a bit. We've been travelling for a while now," Kyrie replied, stretching her hands out to the flickering flames in front of her.
"Only because you're stubborn and won't look at my map," Ayrlyn mumbled. She had already pulled her map of Skyrim from its place in a satchel she kept slung across her shoulder and was looking at it carefully. "Let's see…this is where we crossed the mountains."
"If you're looking for where we are now, we're just south of Blackwater Crossing," the stranger replied, pulling a bottle of mead from her bag and popping the cork out before taking a big swig.
"Oh! Found it!"
"Directionally challenged, huh?" the woman asked, leaning back on one hand and looking at Kyrie before taking another swig of her mead.
"Well, I haven't been to Skyrim in a while, so you can't really blame me for getting lost," Kyrie laughed nervously, rubbing the back of her neck.
"You got lost in the Imperial City, Kyrie," Ayrlyn responded, not even looking up from her map. "Remember? I had to come find you because Aunt Selvia sent you to buy more flour and four hours later you managed to end up on the opposite side of the city."
"Hey! I was only 13. And I was chasing a cat, so I wasn't paying attention."
"And I was only 8. Plus, you never pay attention to where you're going."
"Do, too."
"Really?"
"Yes…sometimes."
"Uh-huh."
A chuckle escaped the stranger's lips, and both Kyrie and Ayrlyn looked up at her curiously.
"I take it you two are related."
"Yeah," Kyrie smiled. "She's my little sister."
"Come to think of it," Ayrlyn added, sitting up straight and looking at the heavily-armored woman sitting across the campfire from them, "we really haven't done proper introductions. I'm Ayrlyn and this is Kyrie. May I ask who you are?"
"Me?" the stranger grinned broadly. "I'm Hara." She jabbed a thumb toward herself. "Hara Bone-breaker, fighter for hire."
"Bone-breaker? That's an awfully scary name to carry."
"In my business, scary works in my favor."
At this, Hara put her mead bottle to her lips and chugged the rest down as if to prove how tough she was.
"Fighter for hire? Are you on your way to a job?" Kyrie inquired, leaning forward eagerly. Maybe Hara could help her find some work to test her sword arm.
"Nah," the woman shrugged, tossing the empty mead bottle back into her bag. "Finished my last job a couple days ago. Haven't been able to find any permanent work in a few months. At least, nothing decent. I've gotten a couple offers from bandits, but while I may walk the line every now and again, I have no intention of completely setting myself against the law just like that."
"Really?" Kyrie frowned. "I thought there'd be plenty of that kind of work around. I heard something about a rebellion before Ayrlyn and I left Cyrodiil."
"Yeah," Hara shrugged. "Jarl Ulfric killed High King Torygg and the whole country has gone to Oblivion ever since. Had something to do with the banning of Talos worship, I think. But I've never had much of a reason to care for politics. Generally speaking, it's bad for business."
"Oh. I see," Kyrie sighed. "While I understand that frustration, is it really necessary to tear the country apart?"
Hara scoffed noticeably.
"The Empire's a bunch of cowards," she huffed. "They're like simpering idiots with their tails between their legs whenever the Thalmor are around, but they won't hesitate to stab their own kinsmen in the back. I may not care for politics, but I have more forgiveness for the Stormcloaks than I do for the Empire. At least the Stormcloaks have some backbone."
As she listened to Hara rant, Kyrie noticed Ayrlyn look up and glance around nervously. Once Hara finished, Kyrie turned to her sister who sat tensely with her map in her lap.
"Ayrlyn?"
"Something doesn't feel right," the younger girl said, her eyes methodically scanning the shadows.
"What do you mean?"
At that moment, however, a shout echoed up from the darkness of the forest, and in a moment the trio were surrounded by at least a dozen Imperial soldiers, their swords drawn.
"Three more over here!" one shouted over his shoulder.
Already there was the sound of swords clashing and men shouting wildly.
"What in Oblivion?" Hara snapped, her gauntleted hand snatching up the greatsword at her side. She barely had time to jump back before an Imperial sword sang past her face.
"You Stormcloaks won't get away this night!" one of the soldiers shouted, his sword clashing against Hara's.
"Stormcloaks?!" Kyrie exclaimed, drawing her sword and holding it out defensively. "What kind of nonsense is this?!"
Instantly a sword flashed in front of Kyrie's face and she dodged, bringing her sword up to block her attacker as he corrected himself and came in for another swing. From out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Ayrlyn as the younger girl sent a sparking arc of electricity toward a nearby soldier. Immediately the soldier turned on the mage, his sword flashing in the light of the campfire.
"Ayrlyn!" Kyrie exclaimed, knocking her opponent's sword away and darting toward her younger sister.
She saw the Imperial lift his sword to strike her sister as a crippling pain struck her shoulder. It was only a fraction of a second that Kyrie remained conscious as she felt her knees give way and her vision turn black.
What…, she thought as a dark curtain fell over her mind. What have I done?
