This is a Skyrim story about a female Dovahkiin named Camira, and her Dovah Odahviing. This takes place 6 months after the Endgame Quest, and let's assume Camira knows all the Words of Power. It contains mature content in some chapters including sex and violence. I use quite a few words from the language of the Dragons, so if you want you can look up the words here.
http:/elderscrolls.wikia.com/wiki/Dragon_Language
Enjoy!
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The Ebony limbs connected by a bowstring made no sound as the masterful hunter notched another arrow, preparing to silence the second bandit. The first had fallen prey to a Glass arrow, which protruded from his windpipe, that carried him to Sovngarde without leaving him time to say goodbye. The second bandit fell just as quickly as the first.
"Two down in less than three seconds." Camira remarked, surveying her work. "I'm getting slow." Her guard was not let down, however. The Dwarven ruins of Irkngthand did not play host to these two alone. "Gods, I hate this place." The Dragonborn crept along the rubble, keeping an astute eye out for more thugs. She knew all the places to check, having been here once before. "Mercer..." she muttered under her breath.
Three more bandits blocked her path; two in idle conversation near a wooden ramp and a Khajiit archer on an elevated platform. All three fell before they knew what was happening. Camira smiled wolfishly, the hunter back in her natural habitat.
"No good loot today." She said to no one in particular. It was true, these lowlifes had nothing of value with them; Fur boots and iron arrows.
"Ah!" Camira let out a sudden cry as an arrow pierced her calf and forced her to one knee. She quickly rolled behind a tent, examining her wound, which was fortunately nothing serious. A clean entrance and exit, right though the muscle. Using the basic Restoration magic she had learned Gods-know how long ago, the wound was cleansed and healed almost instantly. The Dragonborn poked her head around the corner, searching for the assailant. Nothing.
"Fine," Camira thought. "You want to hide, go ahead. It won't save you."
"Laas!" Her vision changed with her Shout, allowing her to see the forms of the living through solid rocks and great distances. She scanned the upper terraces, searching for her attacker, until she spotted a lone figure crouching behind a wall high up, on the other side of the ruins.
Camira had to admire the archer's skill. She doubted that she would have been able to make a shot on her first try from that far out. Obviously, this person was not to be taken lightly. As the effects from her Shout began to fade, Camira tested her leg. It could handle her weight without too much complaint, which was good enough for her.
Rolling out from her cover, Camira sprinted up the stairs to the platform above. She moved in quick bursts, never out in the open for more than a few seconds. The archer fired her way a couple of times, one arrow glancing Camira's waist, but the enchanted Elven armor deflected the shot and protected her from any harm.
After four of her quick sprints, the Dragonborn was directly below the archer, and they both knew this. If this archer was truly as skilled as he seemed, he would sit tight and wait for Camira to come to him. No sense in giving up his vantage point.
Knowing this, Camira allowed herself to sit down for next to the burning hot forge that was once staffed by thugs, enjoying the warmth it brought her in the bitter cold place. She missed the desert sometimes, and the murky swamps of Black Marsh. Cold weather was never her favorite. Although, she had to admit that Skyrim was definitely her favorite place in all of Tamriel. The Nords were people with honor, pride, and prowess in combat; her kind of people.
"Cyrodiil has nothing on Skyrim!" She laughed to herself.
After a few minutes of rest, Camira switched gears again. Back on the hunt. Her Shout told her that the archer was still waiting for her, standing at the ready with his bow drawn and an arrow notched.
Sneaking by was her first thought, but this would require skills Camira did not currently have. She would be completely exposed for a number of seconds while running straight towards the archer, and that would mean death. Close quarters was out for obvious reasons, but she had never been the type to engage in melee, anyway. Why make yourself a huge target when you can send death flying towards them from fifty meters away? Camira drew her bow and readied an arrow. A duel it would be.
A potent poison was applied to the Glass tip. "No one ever said it had to be a fair duel." Camira stalked her way down the hallway, sticking to the shadows that clung to the wall. She ascended the stairs, peeking out a tiny bit to try and get a glimpse of the archer only for an arrow to take an inch of hair off. The head was withdrawn.
"Damn, this guy is not to be messed with." She knew a professional when she saw one, and this archer could put Aela to shame. The Dragonborn took a few quick breaths to steady herself before turning around the wall again. She aimed a few inches above the archers head hoping to end this before it truly began, but just as her fingers twitched to let the arrow fly she was struck for the second time. This time, however, she was not so fortunate.
Camira stumbled backwards, blinded by the pain in her shoulder. She fell to the cold stone floor, clutching at her arm and forcing herself to look at her injury. She wished she hadn't. The arrow had impacted with such force that it cracked her collarbone and sent shards into her flesh. The tip of the Daedric arrow just poked out, but what caused Camira the most alarm was the dripping black venom that leaked out of her shoulder.
Sudden, absolute terror gripped the Dragonborn's heart. She did not know who, or what, was coming for her, but the only thing she knew was that she had to put as much distance as possible between herself and this archer. As Camira forced herself to shaky feet, the arrow in her shoulder jarred painfully, almost blacking the warrior out.
"Feim!" The Shout turned Camira into a form of ethereal quality, rendering her invulnerable but useless. The Shout did not, much as Camira prayed it would, dull the pain, but the Dovahkiin had faced worse injuries. Or so she told herself. She ran to the edge of the platform and jumped over the rail, knowing her Thu'um would safeguard her from further damage.
As soon as her feet touched the ground, Camira sprinted through the arch, her shoulder feeling like it was tearing itself away from her torso. The wounded hunter's spectral quality faded a few seconds after she started running, but she barely spared a second thought to the matter as she raced away from the Dwarven ruins; The poison in her bloodstream was being pumped through her body with every beat of her racing heart, causing Camira to run as if every Daedric being in Oblivion was inches behind her. Running on nothing but adrenaline for the last twenty meters of her four hundred yard sprint, she collapsed onto the snowy earth, devoid of all but the smallest spark of energy.
Panting, sobbing and shaking, Camira's Shout was little more than a whisper. As Odahviing's name rang out across Skyrim, the Dragonborn slipped into unconsciousness, praying that her friend would answer her desperate call.
