To Master Yourself

Reclamation of The Damned

"And so it was that it began with death; only fitting, that the end heralds the beginning."

A cold misty morning was hardly the most desirable thing to awake to, especially with a pounding headache. Of course, the rhythmic thumping behind her eyes would scarcely endear someone to anything, least of which being cold fog clinging to her bare skin. Rough rope and even rougher clothes mounted on top of her existing irritations, all contributing to her sever disliking of a damn cold morning.

The rope was an unfortunate matter. Days before, she had stumbled upon the camp of a boisterous group of people. Half-starved and dead on her feet, she cared little for whoever it was that decided to take pity upon her. Had she known who they were and what they were walking into, she would have tried her luck in the wilderness. Now, she cursed her stupidity and their generosity, as because of it she was in a cart with her hands bound, preparing to die to an executioner's blade.

Hardly the most enjoyable week.

The Stormcloak rebellion -of which her fellow prisoners were allied to- had truly started in the land around six months beforehand, after years of small conflicts and minor battles. The real war was wreaking havoc throughout the frozen north. Based out of the once-capital of the icy east of Skyrim, the Stormcloaks had proven to be both admirable and damned stupid. No fault could be given to their conviction, but plenty of blame was to be laid at the feet of the rebels for their questionable values.

But now, that devotion was going to cost the lives of these men. They probably saw it as a glorious end, befitting of one so dedicated to removing the foreign influences on their nation.

To her, it was a continued waste of good men and women.

Oh, she knew her opinions about their war meant nothing to them, but she couldn't help but feel that they were going about the war the wrong way. The Imperial Legion of Cyrodiil was a shadow of its former self when compared to the overwhelming size it had once been. The meagre forces in comparison it had mustered to quell the rebellion should have been crushed quickly by the fanatics and devotees of Ulfric Stormcloak.

It was baffling. At least, until one took the time to understand their methods. The Stormcloaks ran to their deaths without thought, and the Imperial Legion fought desperately to minimise losses. The Legion was far more structured and trained, and that was saying something considering their rapid decline in the last few decades.

When the ambush had struck the group in their sleep, she had resigned herself to whatever judgment -most probably execution- had been made for her. Irritation had soon joined her when quite possibly the most obnoxious thief she had the displeasure of meeting was picked up by her captors. Lokir, a horse thief, had been picked up several days into the convoy's journey, and he had spent his time doing nothing but his hardest to make progress as annoying as he possibly could.

Blackwater Crossing -the nearest town to the location they were captured- was in southern Eastmarch. She remembered little from before her captors decided to feed her, but she was sure they then continued to travel south for about three days. By that, they were somewhere in the Rift. Listening on the guard's chatter had told her they were now moving west. That meant the caravan was on course to Falkreath.

Dragging her mind back to the present, the three slumbering prisoners had begun to awaken during her musings. Observing their disgruntled expressions told her they were just as impressed with the weather as she was. Instead of conversing with them, however, she remained as silent as she had throughout their travels. Ordinarily outgoing, impending doom had a talent at sucking the life and joviality out of her.

What caught her interest was the change in plans. The leader of the rebellion had been captured. Under Cyrodiilic law, Ulfric Stormcloak was to be taken to the Imperial City to face trial and then summary execution. But they decided to do away with the formalities and just cut his head off. But like the Nords of Skyrim, Imperials were strict when it came to law and tradition. For whatever reason, a person in a high position of power had decided to take matters into their own hands. But who that person was, and their intentions were a mystery to her- she had little knowledge or interest in the happenings of those in politics and even less in the intricacies of law. In the end, it hardly mattered. The death of the prisoners -of which she was included- was guaranteed regardless of Ulfric's end.

The thick fog of the Jerall Mountains passages had given way to dense foliage and seas of green trees at some point during her ruminations. Despite their uniformity, they offered her a glimpse of their location. Falkreath's aspen hills were widely regarded as perhaps the most beautiful in all of Skyrim; a veritable ocean of nature on land, far and beautiful in its scope. Falkreath city, named for the Hold, was its capital and was said to have many similarities to those of Valenwood, intertwined with nature as they were. Despite Falkreath's size, only one other city claimed allegiance to it; Helgen, the guard of the Pale Pass. Its position was of vital importance to Cyrodiil and the legion, given that the Pale Pass was the only passage to the province from Skyrim, making it essential to control.

She heaved a sigh, briefly gaining the attention of the others. However, they returned to their inner thoughts upon seeing she had nothing to say. The Stormcloaks, for all their faults, had saved her. She could grant them a little leniency for that. She had ignored the others for the last two weeks, preferring instead to wait in silence. Had she the strength, she could have escaped easily, but her hunger and exhaustion -both before and after her capture- had sapped the strength from her limbs.

Two horses pulled the cart; each lashed to the wooden frame, as much a prisoner as she was. They followed a stone path through the forest, the clacking of hooves and groaning of wood filling the air. An Imperial legionary sat at the head of the wooden transport; eyes planted forward. Their progress continued without incidence, the prisoners trying in vain to move their minds to better days. Only one, A bearded blonde rebel with braids, was giving any due to his fellow prisoners and it was him that decided to break the icy silence that hung around them.

"Hey, thief," he fished, "What village are you from?"

His question raised the head of Lokir, the fog of his memories clearing as he comprehended the question being asked of him. The attention of the rebel mustered something inside the thief, and by the clenching of his jaw and arms, it was hardly friendly.

"And why do you care, huh?!" he would have jumped to his feet, were it not for the unstable platform they were seated on, "If you weren't for you damn Stormcloaks, none of us would be in this mess! I would have gotten that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell by now!"

To the grizzled warrior's credit, he didn't even look taken aback, and the only noticeable change in his expression was the slight down turning of his eyebrows. He just stared at the raging man looking unimpressed at his show of anger.

Lokir gave up his glaring quickly, whatever fire fuelling him seeming to leave him. Instead, with a defeated sigh and slouching shoulders, he replied, "Rorikstead. I'm from Rorikstead."

The warrior nodded, and stuck out his bound hands for a shake, saying, "Well, I'm Ralof, born in Riverwood. I joined the rebellion four months ago. Before that, I served in the legion."

The man eyed the offer with disdain, eyes narrowed and flicking between the man's grim smile and scarred hands, before relenting and grasping the hands to shake awkwardly. Ralof then turned to her, clearly expecting a similar greeting, only to receive a silently raised eyebrow and no response.

Upon seeing the affronted look spread across the rebel's face, she let out a sigh and shook her head. Blowing a few dangling hairs out of her face, she raised her own bound hands and reached out to grasp Ralof's.

"I'm Ashalla, of Winterhold. I got caught up with you lot in the Legion ambush."

She could see him wince at the reminder, gently rubbing still red scars. The atmosphere in the cart, formerly oppressive and quiet, lightened. They maintained their silence, but it no longer held the same quiet despondency.

Dying with friends was better than strangers, after all.

Lokir seemed as if he wanted to say something but was hesitant in speaking up. She could see him forming the words only to close his mouth just as quickly. With a click of her tongue, she caught his gaze and spoke.

"If you have something to say, out with it. This is maybe the last chance we have."

She could see him deliberating over his words after her blunt prompting, and with no small amount of irritation, she scoffed and turned her head away. She would not suffer uncertainty in the face of their deaths. If the thief wanted to say something, he would.

"How were you caught unawares by the Legion?" he asked, "Surely you had scouts that would have warned you."

Lokir's question drew some amount of attention from her; it was surprisingly intelligent, given he displayed less than stellar wit in their time knowing each other, however short it was. It was a good question. Even Ulfric would not have been foolish enough to travel unaware of the land. She turned to the man sat next to her with a raised eyebrow, but all he could do was shrug.

"I know not what my lord Ulfric has determined, but it seems rather clear to me," Ralof broke in, "Near as I can tell, we had a spy or two in our party. We had scouts all around, and they would have discovered a party the size needed to capture us."

It made enough sense. The spies would have kept the leading party in the dark to the presence of an Imperial party, and signal to the force to begin the ambush as they slept.

"I'd wager it was that bastard Hrolfdir; it was always odd whenever he lived through battles his betters died in. He's not here either, and I would have remembered him taking an arrow or blade."

Ralof's comment was tinged with enough disgust and venom; she would feel affronted as well if a brother-in-arms betrayed her. However, despite her empathy, she couldn't help but let out a scoff.

"It hardly matters now; dead or not, his fate is not our concern any longer. We are the ones facing a blade now."

Ralof shook his head ruefully and dismissed her admonishment, Lokir watching the byplay between them quietly.

"Bah! Let me have my grousing in peace. I'm aware of the executioner's axe. Its shadow has been hanging over my head for months."

"Dying with anger is sure to lead only to a bitter rest. Let go of your grudges; the gods have little use for them."

His tired blue eyes panned over to her, empty of all except a sad gleam. Her own snowy eyes stared back somberly before turning away and whispering to them.

"My father told me that once. I'm sure he meant nothing of this sort, but his words have stuck with me."

Ralof's lips thinned, and his eyes tightened as he stared off into the air. Her words seemed to have brought a sadness out from within him, and he was unwilling to meet her gaze.

"He is a wise man. Wiser than many."

Now it was her own turn to look away into the mist, her voice caught in a cage in her throat. A quiet, choked cry clawed through her voice, ringing out somberly into the morning air.

"Yes, he was."

It crept up on her through the following silence; where once the air had been clear of any odour, she now smelt it- the scent of burning wood and charred flesh. Her nose wrinkled from the mixed stench while her eyes flitted around to locate the source of the odour.

Unfortunately, because of the heavy morning mist, anything not immediately in front of her was obscured. Idly, she laughed at the unfortunate ones in charge of leading the caravan through this mist. It gained the odd looks of the other members of her cart, but she merely waved them off and continued to try to stare through the strange mist.

A creeping suspicion filled her the longer she failed to see through the obscuring cloud. Something was off with it. She never recalled mist being this heavy- it reminded her of the childhood home she had grown up in. The dense cloud called upon memories of the few times a blizzard had caught her in the peaks of Winterhold.

Maybe it's just something unusual from the mountains.

However, a new weight hung in the air around them, dragging the mist and forming rolling waves across the air and ground around them. A paranoia crept up, suspicious eyes darting this way and that, a wary vigil that revealed nothing to her.

!

She saw flashes of whatever it was that was hiding in the mist. Large, black limbs scaled finer than any armour, long, whipping tendrils of black bone and ivory white claws that smelt of freshly spilled blood. A gleaming, obsidian body glistening from the mist shrouding its form.

She saw the disturbance caused by the creature creep further along into the dense fog, cutting off the cart at the head of the convoy. The mist grew even thicker, obscuring all but the hands in front of her face. The terror roused within flooded her mind, and she moved quickly despite her exhaustion.

She tried to stand in the cart, but its constant uneven movement caused her to lose her balance and be thrown aside, straight into the man next to her. What should have been a heavy impact full of cursing and drawn blades instead amounted to shock. She passed straight through the man next to her, landing roughly onto the ground. His form wavered, and all the colour seemed to drain from his body. The now unrecognisable shape wavered and then dissipated into the air.

Her mind froze, any thoughts slipping away from grasp. Confusion; shock; surprise; all these things flooded her mind and reactions and kept her in place. A deep rumbling echo shook the air, making waves through the dense obscuring cloud of vapour.

"Hssss… Krif rul hi hind. Hi nis filok."

Her head shot up, eyes wide open and flicking across her range of vision. She tried desperately to locate the origin of the voice, only to fail. It was all around, pressuring her from every point. Above, below, around. She was not one to quail quickly -the daedra of Elinhir could attest to that- but there was a quality to the voice that penetrated through her mind like an arrow.

It was majestic, powerful, filled with strength and cruelty that demanded obedience. Whoever it belonged to was not something a mortal could resist. An intrinsic part of her being wanted to be commanded by this being. An essential need that she had never realised awoke and demanded that she submit.

But then she broke through the haze the being's words placed on her. The fog in her mind cleared, and she recognised the intent behind the being's words clear as day. An indignant fury boiled in her gut, but her rational thoughts realised that she was in no position to fight something that could turn her mind against her.

Without any further thought, she leapt to her feet, and though her muscles flared in protest, she pushed through the pain. Her breath grew heavy as she ran aimlessly, the unnatural cloud seeping into her soul like the voice did her mind and stealing the already dwindling strength from her limbs. Her footfalls were uneven and stumbling, the mist obscuring from view the flaws and irregularities from her wide eyes.

Hair-Trigger battle senses honed from years of combat warned her of an imminent demise moments before it occurred. A split-second decision to shift her weight onto one foot and leap to the side was all that kept her from staining the ground and mist red. A behemoth tail, black as midnight and covered in obsidian scales and bone plates slammed into her previous position, rendering the stone road into a fine dust. The mace-like tip, boasting wicked looking spikes on its end, extracted itself from the deep crater it had made.

Stumbling to her feet, she continued with her blind fleeing through the strange mist as the creature followed close behind. A deep thumping was muted by the fog, and small rumbles followed her closely. Whatever effect the fog was having on her strength seemed to double, forcing her to a stumbling, tired gait that barely kept her ahead of the creature. Surely her lethargic movement was slow enough for it to smash her with that tail again? It didn't, however, and instead hung just out of reach, teasing her senses maliciously.

It's toying with me!

She had sworn to never run from her problems. To never cower from an enemy. She had broken that promise- but she could redeem herself. Her gait slowed to a stop, and with a deep breath, she turned to face the creature. Baleful red eyes, slitted like a snake, glared out at her. The unmistakable glint of cruel amusement shone brightly in those eyes.

What terrified her the most was the size of them. The slit pupils themselves were about the same size as her, and while she was not the largest of people in the world, she was no small woman. As a Nord, especially one from the north, she stood head and shoulders above most, and the full eye was easily double her size.

She could feel an insurmountable terror fill her, but with an almost inhuman will, she seized the heart of her fear and tore it apart. She wrestled her screaming instincts into submission, fighting for complete control of her mind and body.

She had sworn to die fighting, not running, and by Shor that was a promise she would keep!

Transitioning from her locked form into a tightly controlled stance took more effort than she would have liked to admit, however. Her muscles were shaking with both weakness and fear, but her will was in control now. She would not back down to whatever it was that had dared to toy with her. She may not have any weapons or support, but she would be damned before she cowered in front of this hellish beast any longer.

"Ful ni pah joore nikriin. Bo hin dinok ruz."

A long, jittery exhale emerged from what had to be the creature's mouth, rolling the heavy mist around them and reaching her ears. It took a moment, but as the sound continued, she realised that the beast was laughing! Her eyes narrowed, and she used the anger that welled within her to fuel her flagging strength. The tip of her ragged cloth boots dug into the ground, and with a quick jerk, ripped a large stone out of the earth. With a spinning flourish, she whipped it directly at the beasts left eye.

The large and heavy stone had become a screaming missile aimed directly at the centre of the pupil, and it was only the sudden ducking of its head that stopped it from losing an eye. The stone continued its path, striking something hidden by the mist and letting out a loud snap. The beast refrained from letting any hint of the pain out; instead stopping its laughing and letting out a growl that shook the earth and air itself.

The beasts red eyes were all that she could see of through the mist, and those baleful orbs rose higher above her.

And higher.

And higher.

They rose so high that eventually even they disappeared. An odd stillness came over the previously rolling mist; even the water coalesced on her form freezing its movement on her body. And then it struck. A massive gust of wind, enough to send her tumbling across the ground, slamming into boulders that littered the area. It was only once she was able to secure her grip on a large exposed rock, gaining quite a few gashes across herself in the process that her semi-flight ceased. The displaced wind caused the cold mist to flow by her with a stinging chill, and her body and clothes became drenched in water.

Within time, the mist settled into inactivity, and it was then she was able to lift her head to gaze at the area. With the fog gone, it revealed to her eyes the mountainous region around her, a deep basin with mountains on all sides; a full field spread out with large rocks littered through the grass. And then she saw it. Right in front of her eyes, she saw the full size and scope of the beast.

There was something to be said about fighting the unknown; it was almost a comfort that you were unable to gain an accurate understanding of what was hiding in wait.

To her eyes, it was alike to a mountain in size, a veritable hill of obsidian black terror. It stood on four legs, a pair of leathery wings outstretched to their full length, enough to blot out the sun. Each of its feet was tipped with claws like razors, five each. Upon the spread of its wings were large spikes bone, more alike to black marble and volcanic rock in texture. A wicked line of spikes ran down its back, flattening as it reached the tip of its thick tail, forming into the spiked mace that had almost crushed her into a paste. From its armoured underbelly, a deep orange glowed, shining through the gaps in the heavy plates. The river of light climbed its throat, alighting the inside of its gaping maw with a hellish glow. Black spikes framed its head, two massive horns twisting into a spiral directly away from its crown. Oddly enough, one of the horns that framed its face seemed broken, the end of the tip sheared straight through as if cut by a blade. Unable to tear her eyes away, it was only through the corner of her eye that she noticed the black spike embedded in the dirt, the large stone she had thrown lying nearby to it.

Her promises and oaths meant nothing before this behemoth. It took any control she had over herself and tore it to shreds. Its mere presence alone was enough to make her lose all hope. It was the end of her.

The end of everything.

She fell to her knees limply, her soul and mind devoid of any thoughts of defiance. This thing, this beast, was so far beyond her that to hope for victory – or even escape- was comparable to insanity.

"Hi piraak osos mulaag. Nunon zu'u Al-Du-In, ahrk hi joore."

While she was unable to comprehend the creature's words, she was able to recognise that the language it spoke was old. Very, very old. Its words held an aura of power that she could see didn't belong to the obsidian giant, as ancient as time itself — the very language of creation. But there was one thing that stood out amongst its newest words. Something familiar. Something whispered to her long ago by a man, in fear and reverence.

Alduin…

The beasts great fanged mouth spread wide, and Alduin the World Eater roared as if hearing her thoughts. Its clamour was unlike anything she had ever seen, so mighty and majestic it could only be described as deific. The air whipped and shook, her hands flying to her ears in a vain attempt to protect them from the mythical scream of power emitting from the beast's throat. The sky shivered, obscuring clouds flying away in terror from the insurmountable dragon.

It was then that she was able to glimpse the sky, and oh, what a sky it was. Filled with innumerable stars, each sparkled brightly above her. However, it was the other features of the cosmos above that almost caused to forget about the mythical -and supposedly dead- dragon in front of her. A swirling vortex of colours and lights above her centred around a bright orb, alike to the sun and yet alien simultaneously. Something very similar to the rays of the Sea of Ghosts wound through the world above, gently drifting on some invisible current.

But that was impossible! She was being transported with captured Stormcloak rebels to be executed. She had just spoken with them what seemed like minutes ago!

Where in Oblivion am I?!

"Hmm... unslaad rahgot… you mortals are a constant source of annoyance."

Her eyes whirled down to meet the World Eater's, shocked at the dragon's sudden ability to speak in a language she was able to understand. Its words were no less air-shaking; however, they noticeably lacked the same kind of power the other language did. If it were possible for such a giant beast, it quietly stalked slowly closer, lowering its head until its eyes were level with her, still quite a distance away.

She took stumbling steps backwards in a futile effort to maintain the separation between the two of them. However, there was no way she could ever outpace such a massive creature, and soon enough she found herself staring almost directly into the crimson-slitted eye of Alduin. Her desperate attempts to maintain some semblance of separation led to her tripping, landing on her backside and scuttling away until she came back to back with a large boulder, halting any further progress.

With her back to a rock and a mythical dragon to her front, she could objectively say that this was the worst point in her existence. If the legends regarding Alduin the World Eater was true, Nirn was at its end. Rain began to fall on her head, the distant crack of lightning lending to the beast a -if possible- more menacing air.

Wait… rain?

A flickered glance upwards confirmed her observation; dark grey clouds were sweeping into the valley, obfuscating the body of the beast. Heavy rain soaked into her clothing, drenching the rough fabric and causing it to cling to her skin. Of course, with an apocalyptic dragon directly in front of her, her state of dress was perhaps the furthest thing in mind. Alduin's attention was focused on the rain, however, and the dragon refrained from further intentional intimidation in favour of staring into heavy rain soaking into its scales with an irked(?) glare.

"Pahlok kiir… he should know better than to interfere in his state."

What is he talking about?

Heavy thunder struck the plains around her, briefly illuminating the world into daylight that revealed the jet-black obsidian body of Alduin. The world hung in that limbo; the brief flashes of light granted by the lightning booming overhead creating a nightmarish scene.

A loud booming lacking the distinctive flash of lightning beforehand cracked the air, briefly stunning her with its proximity. When she regained her senses, she saw an incredible sight. Alduin, previously immovable in his position, had been sent tumbling across the basin, each revolution sending earth quaking tremors through the ground as the dragon struck the ground with its weight. Her grip on the rock had slipped, leaving her to be buffeted by the winds generated by the unseen presence.

Once she lifted herself on her knees, her head turned up to meet an outstretched hand. Through the rhythmic flashing of lighting, she was able to grasp a few glimpses of the one in front of her.

An odd winged helmet covered his head, except for his face. A trimmed beard covered his chin and mouth, hiding his lips. A heavy leather cloak hung across his shoulders, its old and faded cloth shadowing his body from the rain. His outstretched arm was covered from his forearm by a simple leather studded guard. A rusted and damaged chain hauberk was spread tight against his large frame, a once-ornate belt hung across his hips, the heavy metal pulled tight by the leather. His knees and thigh were bared to the open air, everything from his shin down covered by a pair of leather-wrapped metal guards ending in an open-toed sandal. A simple sword hung in its leather sheath at his side.

Seeing the man's insistence, she gripped his hand, finding her own nearly crushed from the power in it. He pulled to her feet quickly, and without even saying a word, pointed woodenly behind her. A glance at the direction found herself looking at an opening in the vast earth wall, stretching through for what seemed forever. Turning her head back, she discovered that whoever her saviour was had disappeared. She looked around dumbfounded, but a massive rumble was quick to remind her of the immediate danger.

That is, the angry mythical dragon climbing back to its feet.

Shit.

Her feet broke into a sprint, not even daring to glance back as the fabled World-Eater let out a furious roar. The resulting blast of air only helped to speed her on her way; exhaustion be damned.

"Lok Vah Koor!"

The great beast screamed those words out, and whatever they meant, they had a profound effect on the surroundings. A crack like a whip, only multiplied by thousands sounded out, a wave of power emitting from the throat of Alduin, launched directly into the skies above. When it reached the storm, a ripple fleeter than the lighting running through it banished them. Within moments, what had once been mighty storm was reduced to a few pufts drifting by innocently.

Even through it all, she maintained her pace, sprinting across the stone-littered plains to the only hope of escape. Alduin must have caught sight of her frantic rush, as another roar sounded out through the basin, another string of words intermingling inside.

"Strun Golz Yol!"

This time, the effects of the scream were far more pronounced. Red-grey clouds had gathered above, off-colour lighting sparking and booming unceasingly. A vortex not unlike the ones the clouds hid appeared at the eye and the air hung still. Then, the first of them fell. Great burning rocks from the heavens above came crashing down onto the earth below, throwing molten stone and dirt into the air, leaving behind enormous craters in the skin of the earth.

One such heavenly body came screaming down, wreathed in great flames and breaking apart at the seams. High above, the fissures in its surface hewed the rock open, splintering into dozens of pieces. Although many would tear apart before reaching her, numerous extensive articles still threatened her safety. She had no cover to hide behind, and the best she could do was drunkenly dodge as best she could.

Even with her lethargic attempts to save herself, she knew that she couldn't dodge the rocks. There was just too many, far too many to be protected even by the stones littering the fields, had they provided shelter.

Although she continued running, her eyes closed, fists gripped tightly in frustrated resignment

"Wuld Nah Kest!"

A quiet whisper sounded in her ears, yet somehow clear in the raining fire and impacts. An incredible force slammed into her back, carrying her forward at blurring speed. The power threw her clear of the rain of fire, tumbling her end over end across the hard plains, caking her in grass stains and mud. Rolling herself into a position that allowed her to recover some semblance of poise, a glance of the head allowed her to see that her saviour was once again the armoured man.

Whoever this man was, she owed him her life twice over.

The man was crouched on one knee, a heavy trench in the earth following his hand, which she presumed he used to slow down. He rose to both feet, staring pointedly at her, and again raised his finger to aim at the gap in the earthen basin, now immediately behind her due to the man's actions. She hesitantly nodded and sprinted directly for it.

A glance backwards showed to her that the man had turned to face the rampaging dragon, slowly drawing his plain blade and moving into a stance. Her glance was interrupted by her almost tripping on a prominent rock that jutted above the ground, forcefully directing her attention forward.

As soon as her head was turned forward, she heard another deafening roar sound out, and the resulting blast of air again helped to speed her on the way to safety. A loud boom sounded through the air and earth, causing her to stumble just as she entered the earthen gates. What had her worried was the lack of follow-up; if her saviour was lost because of her weakness, she could never forgive herself.

Loud growling rumbled across the air, and she dared to turn her head for a second. The man that saved her was nowhere to be seen, presumably crushed under the claws of the dragon. Alduin's body was far too large to fit through the same gap that she did, but the glare of his eye could pierce through the shadowed darkness and stare into her own.

"Mey! You think mere earth and rock can stop one such as I? Zu'u los al! Nothing can stand before me!"

The World Eater reared his head up, great fanged maw spreading wide and the glowing in its throat becoming brighter. Her eyes widened as it drew in a great breath, and her speed increased to an almost blurring pace. The end of the earthen tunnel drew near, and she could see the light coming through the other opening.

And then, Alduin released his breath.

"Yol Toor Shul!"

Words intermingled with his scream, which echoed through the cavern and her mind with a jubilant scream of triumph and fire, indomitable in its strength and unquenchable in its fury. The great wave of fire flowed along the walls of the earthen gap, the earth closest to the source melting into burning slag and pooling onto the ground. It clamoured towards her with every growing heat, and she could feel the sweat and water on her body begin to boil from the fire of Alduin.

She cried out in pain but kept running nonetheless. If she stopped now, she was dead. The wave was gaining on her, but she kept on moving. Her safety and freedom were mere steps away, and it would only take a few more moments to reach it. The instant her body cleared the outermost edge of the gorge she threw herself to the side as far she could.

Not even a second she leapt to safety the fire hounding her flowed freely past, lighting the verdant grasses and shrubbery into a roaring blaze. She turned her face from the heat, and her eyes slowly adjusted to the new area. A sea of green greeted her eyes, the grass sprawling across the healthy plains for miles. Mountains rimmed the horizon, the barest hint of their snow-capped peaks reminded her fondly of home.

She could not afford to sit and stare, however much she wished too. Even now, she could still hear the roars of Alduin's fury gaining closer. Heavy thumping shook the air, blowing the grass, both burnt and otherwise. Each wave of air was of brief intermittence from the previous one.

The roar of Alduin grew clearer, and she knew she could not linger much longer, lest the World Eater devour her. She climbed groaning to her feet and set out across the swaying grass fields immediately. She ran as far and fast as she was able, not once daring to glance back at the following dragon. With luck, the land that was slowly being consumed by the mist Alduin displaced would have a haven from the dragon.

And like waking from a long dream, she saw it. The air shivered and wavered as if covered by a spell of Invisibility, and then it swept away like the wind dispersing mist. A deep gorge, with many rivers pouring down into the crack in the earth. Spanning the gap was a bridge formed from the spine of some colossal creature, its ribs and vertebrae forming the steps that led to safety. A large stone hall with stained windows rested comfortably on the island's edge, its light casting a warm glow over her.

At the closest end of the bridge to her stood a man, if he could be called such. He stood towering over her and packed so much muscle onto his frame; it was a miracle he could still move. On his back was strapped an enormous battle-axe, thrumming with enough power to cleave through even the greatest of mountains.

He caught sight of her quickly enough, closing the distance between them, catching her just as she lost balance. While she despised feeling so weak as well as demonstrating in front of others, in light of the situation she withheld from blaming herself.

"Lo there, warrior. You walk upon Shor's land, and if it be shelter from the beast above you seek, you are welcome here."

She cracked her head as the mountain of a man spoke, a disbelieving light in her eyes.

"S-Shor? That's impossible…"

The man's braided hair shook along with his head, and he spoke still in that voice filled with calm and assurance as if he had consoled the half-mad before.

"I do not lie, young warrior. You stand in Sovngarde, the domain of my lord Shor. You are lucky to stand at the foot of his hall; few these days reach this far. That fell beast stands as a bastion to my lord's chosen, and his mist ensnares all that walk through."

If the man spoke the truth, she was in the afterlife all Nords dreamed and fought to reach; Sovngarde, the great beyond. Home to the Father of Man, Shor, he called all great warriors that die honourable deaths to his fall to feast and fight for eternity. But for her to be here…

I died.

Her shoulders slumped, and she lay there still for a spell. Her mind was awhirl with her memories of her capture at the hands of the Imperial Legion, which -to her- seemed only moments ago. Her mind struggled to comprehend the truth, refusing to believe her death despite all evidence to the contrary.

"What is your name?"

The man looked puzzled at her question, but comprehension dawned in his eyes, which she refused to investigate. He held no pity for her, but empathy was apparent in his reassuring grip and downturned eyebrows.

"I am Tsun, shield-thane to Shor. He charged me to guard the Whalebone Bridge and test all those that would seek entry into Shor's Hall."

And with his words, she lost the tiniest shred of hope she still held onto to. She could tell no lie in his voice, which resounded with finality and honesty. She let go of any delusions of still living and stood to her feet.

Now standing to her full height, a respectable -for a Nord woman- six-foot, she could grasp Tsun's enormity. He stood at least two heads above her, making her seem tiny by comparison. Even the axe on his back was larger than her, she noted with some annoyance. Forcing her head up and looking the god-thane in the eyes, she asked of him a simple question.

"What happens now, lord Tsun?"

He let out a quick laugh and responded warmly.

"I am lord of none here, warrior. Only Shor may claim any lordship here, and he awaits across the bridge. To meet with him, one must first pass my test, but I should think to survive Alduin's ire is test enough for any, no?"

She nodded grimly, turning her head to witness the great body of the World Eater fly above, seeing its jaws forced wide from roaring unceasingly. However, the beats of its wings were inaudible, and the roars were muted like distant thunder.

"Can he not see us? Surely whatever spell it was that clouded my sight would not affect him."

Tsun shook his head, he too staring at the flying dragon far above.

"Alduin has proven to be fallible, and with the aid of the great mages in my lord's service, a ward that prevents the beast's knowing of us lays over the hall. My lord Shor has bid us stay our blades, though no few are eager to meet the dragon in battle."

The response gained a raised eyebrow for a moment before it returned to its proper place. She supposed it should not be a surprise, as Nords had once held the greatest spell-casters outside of the races of Elves. Even if modern Nords held high suspicion and distrust towards magic, the same view had not been held by the heroes of old.

"Come with me, young warrior," Tsun spoke, gesturing towards the bridge at his back, "I will take you to meet with my lord Shor."

She fell into step beside him, being forced to walk faster than average to keep up with the giant next to her. The bones that formed the bridge were spaced out considerably, but a type of leather-skin spanned the gaps and allowed for passage. Once a rhythm was set, she glared out of the corner of her eye at Tsun.

"My name is Ashalla, not 'young warrior'," She huffed out. "And I would prefer to be called that."

Tsun stared too from the corner of his vision, head still straight and spoke with amusement, "Well then, Ashalla, it is my honour to welcome you to the Hall of Valour, resting place for the greatest warriors in all of history."

As she walked along the bridge, she could feel some of her weariness disappear, and strength began to fill her arms. Marvelling at the sudden power permeating her muscles, she lifted her arms to her face and could very faintly see a golden glow surrounding the limb. In fact, the light emitted from every part of her body, forming a dim haze around her form. Tsun noticed the inspection and decided to comment to her.

"A blessing, from my lord Shor. You now fall under his protection, as do the souls of all that come here. So long as you stay in his hall, neither strength nor wit shall ever fade. Whatever your strength was in life, so it is unflagging in death."

Turning her eyes to Tsun, she noticed an identical haze wrapped around his form. Suddenly, a thought struck her, compelling to ask the giant next to her.

"Before, when Alduin revealed himself to me, there was a man. He protected me. But he lacked the same glow you hold," she said. "Is this man under your lord's protection as well?"

Tsun's eyes narrowed, and his pace slowed slightly to watch her carefully. When he spoke, it was slow and measured, careful not to provoke any suspicion in her. "Mayhaps he is, mayhaps he isn't. Describe him to me, if you will."

She was curious in his sudden shift of temperament but acquiesced to his request. "He wore an odd winged helmet, as well as a chain hauberk, sandals and a simple sword at his side. He was able to send the beast tumbling end over end, as well move at incredible speeds."

Tsun let out a small sigh, perhaps in tiredness or frustration, but its nature seemed to be a mix of emotions she was unable to discern. He furrowed his eyebrows into a frown and answered her with a stern voice.

"That man is not under my lord's protection, for he has no need of it. His being here is worrying, but it is clear he helped you when he did not need to. Remember that much of his actions, if nothing else."

His response caught her attention, as well as confusion.

A man in Shor's realm, but uneeding of his protection from Alduin? What kind of man is he?

She could not ask Tsun any more questions, however, as they reached the end of the bridge and he came to a halt. An appraising gleam came to his eyes, and a look over her drew a frown.

"Rags are not befitting of a Shield-maiden as strong as yourself. If you would allow me, I would give to you the armour you deserve."

She looked over herself and found that she agreed with the god wholeheartedly. Tears and burns littered the poor garments and exposed much of her skin to the open air. She supposed she should feel embarrassed in being in such a state of undress, but found herself more grateful for still existing than self-conscious. Besides, she had a body she was proud of. A nod to the man had him wave his hand in her direction, and in a flash of light, she was garbed in new clothes.

Her rags were replaced with well- fitted boots; the collars being lined with some sort of fur. She wore heavy woollen pants that conformed to her legs and hips well, yet offered the same freedom of movement as wearing nothing. She could feel on her top half a thin shirt that reached her waist and elbows underneath a finely woven chain hauberk. On her outermost layer was leather cuirass, adorned with an elegant, flowing symbol, confined by a shield design. On her forearms and hands were leather bracers, detailed with the same design as her cuirass. At the back of her hips, she could feel the familiar weight of a pair of weapons. She felt behind her and drew the daggers to admire their almost-perfect make, and found by swinging them their balanced weight.

She looked to Tsun with a raised eyebrow. Not through displeasure, but more out of curiosity. The god gave a small smile and inclined his head ever-so-slightly. She gave a friendly smile back.

"I appreciate the clothes and armour, but I must ask, how did you know I used daggers? I would have expected a sword more than anything."

Tsun gave a slight laugh and a hearty clap on her shoulder, saying, "Ashalla, I have fought numerous enemies that wielded a weapon from all disciplines. I daresay I can recognise how a warrior fights when I see them," he laughed. "As for a sword, I have come to learn that it and its kin are not the only dangerous weapons out there. Though most would forget it, I too walked among the living once and fought many an enemy. The Elves, treacherous though they may be, were and still are mighty warriors. They did not limit themselves to the sword and axe alone, and I remember well the dancing blades of their swift rogues."

She nodded appreciatively nonetheless, respecting the warrior's wisdom and the lessons he gave to her. He nodded his head towards the hall behind them, large and majestic in its beauty.

"Go now, Shield-maiden. My lord and the warriors of Sovngarde wait to greet you. I must stay and fulfill my guard, as my lord Shor has commanded of me."

Without any more words, he turned about and marched back across the immense bridge spanning the chasm. She was left there to stand awkwardly for a moment, but upon taking a deep breath, she faced the great hall.

A few steps forward brought her to the foot of the high doors to Shor's hall, its intricate Nordic carvings winding up to the top, telling the stories of all that dwelt within. Three doors guarded the entry to the hall, the left and rightmost ones detailing the tales of the warriors inside, much of them being bare for the ones yet to come. She stood before the middle door, which told the story of Shor while on Nirn, of the great war between him and the Elves of the Dawn Era and of his death.

Placing a hand on the door, it swung open with the barest amount of noise easily, causing her to stumble slightly. The slit that she opened let through the sounds of cheering and laughing, the air bearing the smell of roasted meat and warm mead. Subconsciously, she let out a small breath of relief, as if arriving home from harsh weather.

Alduin would certainly qualify as 'harsh weather', she mused with some humour.

With all the tension finally drained from her form, she pushed the door open with confidence and strode into the hall without hesitance. She took a moment to gaze around the hall, in which much feasting and merriment carried on without noticing her. It was much the same as all the stories and legends described the Hall of Valour, with throngs of warriors feasting, wrestling and laughing. Men and women alike spread throughout the hall without distinction, and she was sure less… public activities were occurring out of sight.

Directly in front of her and in the middle of the hall was a long table, carved of stone and inlaid with gold. Chairs were seated around a hearth that extended through the middle of the feasting table, roasting spits hanging over the fire adorned with sizzling meat. Men and women garbed in both armour and clothing sat feasting at the table, laughing and bumping their fellows, breaking into drunken song every few moments, only to cut themselves off with more food and drink.

All in all, it was very Nordic.

Stained glass windows were spread intermittently throughout the hall, depicting various beasts and warriors enswathed in combat. Chandaliers of horn sconces hung from the ceiling, identical horn sconces were jutting from the walls, all contributing to a cheery and warm orange glow throughout the room.

The legendary doors she opened slammed into the stone frames, catching the attention of all in the hall, from those that were fighting to those that feasted. The once hearty and cheery air died into silence as all observed her form standing in the doorway. One in particular caught her eye, however. He was not so large as to be greater than Tsun, but tall enough that he stood above her.

The man's form was flickering to her eyes; one moment, he was a Nord warrior, adorned with scars and missing a heart; in another he was was covered in the pelts of foxes across his shoulders and head. Eventually his form stabalised into a bearded warrior bearing a great sword across his back, lacking any significant armour other than a leather harness and loincloth plateskirt, his bared body was covered in blue tattoos and scars. His face was hidden by a heavy plaited beard, his hair pulled back and braided. Twinkling blue eyes and a hearty grin stretched across his face, lightening his otherwise menacing and hulking form. Most noticeable to her was the lack of glowing around his form, standing out greatly from the crowd.

Her breath caught in her throat as the great table hall suddenly split into two equal parts and slid across the ground smoothly, forming a pathway between them. The man stood from his throne, each step bringing him closer to her. She realised who he was the moment the crowd parted and bowed their heads in reverence as he passed. Well, that and despite his lack of glowing he carried an aura that screamed non-mortal.

Shor.

The God of Man and Lord of Sovngarde came to a stop in front of her, his hearty grin still firmly in place. Without prompting, she dropped to one knee and bowed her head, one arm place on her knee and the other touching the ground.

A warm and amused laugh rung out as a hand dropped onto her shoulder. "Shield-maiden, I bid you stand! Lord of this hall I may be, but to family I ask no reverence!" Her eyes widened, and she raised her head with shock written clearly across it. Shor's kind eyes met her own, and with both hands on her shoulders, he raised her to standing.

An amused twinkle entered his eye, and with his deep voice, half turned to the crowd, he called out proudly to the warriors standing there.

"Warriors of Sovngarde, give our newest sister a proper welcome!"

A great cheer erupted from the crowd at his side, flagons of mead sloshing over as they raised them on high. Her head turned from the roaring crowd as Shor clapped her shoulder once again, his smile now reduced. A sigh escaped his lips, his booming voice piercing through the now renewed festivities to whisper in her ear.

"First, a proper feast in welcome, but then we must talk. There is much to discuss on your being here; and why you must not linger."

Shor guided her down the steps to the feasting table and sat her down next to his throne, forcing a flagon of mead and a plate of food in front of her. As soon as the food was placed in front of her, she realised that she was indeed hungry, and she ate the food ravenously without thought.

When she finished her meal, Shor guided her behind his throne, into was looked like his own personal chambers. She sat at a simple wooden table as the Lord of Sovngarde laid down two tankards on top of it, them sitting down across from her, a serious and solemn look on his face.

"We have much to discuss, little sister."

Right, so, as you'll have no doubt noticed, there's been a few departures from the typical 'canon' of the Elder Scrolls universe. I've kept it to minor aesthetic things so far, and im contemplating whether or not I should go any further than this. Probably wont though.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this first chapter and I'll work my hardest through lifes attempts at impeding me.

Pruzah wundunne, fahdon.

Non-English Speech

"Krif rul hi hind. Hi nis filok."

(Struggle if you wish. You cannot escape.)

"Ful ni pah joore nikriin. Bo hin dinok ruz."

(So not all mortals [are] cowardly. Come [to] your death then.)

"Hi piraak osos mulaag. Nunon zu'u Al-Du-In, ahrk hi joore."

(You have some strength. But I am Destroyer-Devour-Master, and you [are] mortal.)

"…Unslaad raghot…"

(…Eternal anger…)

"Pahlok kiir…"

(Arrogant Child….)

"Lok Vah Koor!"

(Sky Spring Summer!)

"Strun Golz Yol!"

(Storm Rock Fire!)

"Wuld Nah Kest!"

(Whirlwind Fury Tempest!)

Pruzah wundunne, fahdon.

(Good travels, friend.)

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