Qahnaarin is the word vanquisher in dragon tongue. I chose this as my dragonborn's name because any other fantasy related name sounded ridiculous or too similar to one already in game or sounded like I was trying too hard. Can't have that now, can we?
Please note: This is probably crap. I hope you enjoy it.
Disclaimer: If you recognize it - I don't own it. For this first chapter, despite the fact that he's not in it, I wanted to give a special mention to a particular 'follower' I will be using. Qahnaarin has three people that will be in almost every chapter, those three are Jenassa, Lydia, and Inigo. Jenassa and Lydia are in game characters and obviously belong to Bethesda. Inigo the Brave, however, is a mod follower created by Smartbluecat. Most people know who Inigo is, for those that don't, what the hell is wrong with you? Go download him right now. All of Inigo's credit / personality / image / etc. all go to Smartbluecat. The only thing I can take credit for is any dialogue I add in, which will be a lot. But you'll see some of his dialogue that he already comes with in here as well, which again is credited to SBC. Seriously, do yourself a favor and go download Inigo if you haven't already. He's literally the best.
LAAT DOVAHKIIN
Chapter One
There was a fleeting moment in every warrior's life when they were positive they were going to die. That for, whatever reason, their time had come to an end where they bid their life as they knew it goodbye and headed to wherever it was they were supposed to go. For Qahnaarin, that was Sovngarde. Qahnaarin was destined for Sovngarde without doubt, at least in her own mind. When she took her last breath, and could fight no more she was certain she'd be greeted in Shor's Hall with open arms from her fallen kinsmen.
Her current predicament, however, was unsettling. At least it was to Qahnaarin. For one thing, she felt like she had certainly died. However, she also felt like she was nowhere near Sovngarde. The Nord could hear a muffled voice but her vision was cloudy, to the point where she could only make out shadows. She could taste and feel ash upon her tongue as well as sharp pain in her side. Qahnaarin didn't know what awaited her in Sovngarde, but this didn't seem like the tales she had heard.
"Qahnaarin?"
She heard her name being called by someone who sounded so familiar. Yet, the girl couldn't place the name for the life of her. Qahnaarin did notice the inflection of the voice - concerned. For her, perhaps? She couldn't tell. If she could just clear her vision and retain her bearing, perhaps this would make more sense.
Time passed Qahnaarin, and she found herself unable to keep up with it. It seemed like she lingered in abyss for what felt like an eternity. Perhaps she was merely clinging to life and awaiting death where she would then find herself in Sovngarde. If that were the case, Qahnaarin urgently wished for death to take her and be done with it, for there was no purpose clinging to life in such a pathetic way.
"You're going to live, Qahnaarin. You may not paint this ground with the last of your blood just yet."
That voice was there again. A touch clearer and definitely familiar to the Nord. The voice was soothing, almost comforting, and definitely laced with worry. She wished to respond but she could only feel the dryness of her mouth and couldn't get her body to respond to her. It was a maddening situation.
Time passed as Qahnaarin slipped in and out of unconsciousness. How much, she still couldn't tell. It could have been moments or it could have been years. For her, it felt like an eternity until finally, finally, she could open her eyes as the underside of a leather tent greeted her once her vision was clear enough. Qahnaarin breathed as deep as she could for a moment, feeling her lungs expand and contract. On the exhale, however, a small strangled sound came from her throat, which felt like it had been set on fire. That was when she noticed movement in her peripheral.
A Dark Elf, a Dunmer woman to be exact, leaned over Qahnaarin. She took at the woman's face - long brown hair, sharp dark eyes, and gold war paint that decorated her sharp cheekbones and forehead. Qahnaarin knew this woman.
"Jenassa?" she croaked out, her throat protesting in a way that made the Nord feel like it was going to split and crack like a dry river bed.
"Still with the living, are you?" Jenassa asked, voice strong but quiet in the small tent. "Here, drink some water." Jenassa placed a hand on the back of Qahnaarin's head and helped to lift her up as she brought a waterskin to the Nord's mouth. Qahnaarin grunted with effort but managed to drink from the water skin, the water within a cool relief to her. Jenassa moved the waterskin aside and removed her hand from the white blonde tresses of Qahnaarin's head and asked, "How do you feel?"
"Like I'm half dead. Where are we? What happened?"
At this, Jenassa's features hardened into a look of anger and contempt. "You were supposed to meet me in Whiterun after your job with Ingmar was complete. That was three weeks ago."
"Three weeks!?" Qahnaarin gasped, twisting to look at the Dark Elf and regretting it immediately. A sharp pain spread over her side and through her ribcage, causing her to wince and grimace at the pain. Jenassa laid a hand on her shoulder to help her lie flat against the bed roll.
"Don't move around so quickly or you'll aggravate your wounds," Jenassa started. "When you didn't show I went looking for you. I found you just off the road near Helgen, that's where we are now. Your caravan had clearly been ambushed and I thought for sure you were dead my friend."
"I can't remember what happened," Qahnaarin admitted quietly, eyebrows furrowing as she thought back on it. Ingmar, a rather peculiar Nord with an odd personality, had sought Qahnaarin out; sent for her specifically even in order to send the girl on a quest of sorts. Ingmar's quest didn't last long, in fact, it was relatively simple. Find his business partner, out him for betraying Ingmar, take down his base of operations, and report back to Ingmar. Everything went without a hitch. "I don't think I missed anything with the partner."
Jenassa's face had not changed and it was worrying the Nord. "You hardly ever miss anything," the Dunmer told her.
"So then what? What do you know?"
"I think if you returned to Ingmar he'd be shell shocked to see you alive."
Qahnaarin thought of this, anger swirling in her stomach. "You think Ingmar set this up?"
"Ingmar is not a man that likes loose ends. Not to mention - you don't have to pay a dead mercenary," Jenassa pointed out.
Qahnaarin groaned and closed her eyes. She never fully trusted an employee, as a general rule of thumb, but it was rare for one to pull one over on the Nord. She'd been at this along time, her wit and patience being the two things that have kept her alive for so long. She was exclusive with whom she placed her trust in, Jenassa being one of the few. After a few moments to collect herself, Qahnaarin swallowed thickly and took another drink from the waterskin.
"I think Ingmar will find himself robbed of every septim he owns, as well as an arrow through the eye for my trouble," Qahnaarin explained quietly. "When the time is right. For now, the coward may life. First I need to find who he hired to kill me."
At this, Jenassa cracked a smirk and sat back, crossing her arms as she looked at Qahnaarin thoughtfully. "Come now, the assassin was hired for a job. It's not their fault."
Qahnaarin knew Jenassa was only teasing. Still, as the pain in her abdomen flared through her again she couldn't help but be annoyed. "For taking the job? Absolutely. I'd be more than happy to be bygones be bygones."
"However?" Jenassa prompted.
"The milk drinker didn't do their job very well, did they? I'm still alive, and in a considerable amount of pain. They are sloppy and didn't even check to see if I was dead," Qahnaarin started. "Taking a job I can forgive. Butchering said job at my own expense, however, is not excusable. I will show them the proper way to kill."
Jenassa didn't argue, but rather looked contemplative at the Nord's words. For all that the pair had been through, Qahnaarin knew the Dunmer woman very well, and even though she knew Jenassa agreed with her, she also knew there was something still plaguing the Dark Elf's mind about the incident.
"It wasn't just sloppy work," she started. "Your wound, though severe, seemed almost intentionally to miss your vital organs. However, the severity seemed intentional. Like they wanted you out of commission...not dead. You've been on the brink of death for three weeks." Jenassa sat forward then, leaning down to check on the wound herself.
This did puzzle Qahnaarin and her friend had a point. Qahnaarin didn't have the energy to sit up to inspect the wound herself, but she could feel the bandaging Jenassa had given to her and could feel the length and depth of the wound. "Something else to figure out, then. I doubt Ingmar wanted me left alive. Perhaps my supposed assassin had an ulterior motive."
Jenassa stood then to leave Qahnaarin to her thoughts, promising to return with something to cook them for supper. "Think you can handle a wolf or two if they come looking?"
"I can probably hold my own for all of two seconds," Qahnaarin grinned. "Thank you for finding me, Jenassa." The Dunmer stared at Qahnaarin for a moment, tilting her head in response.
"I could hardly leave my friend of so many years to die. There are still many blank canvases across Tamriel that need to be painted red," The Dunmer responded thoughtfully. Qahnaarin smiled fondly at her friend as Jenassa turned, hand already on the hilt of one of her swords as she ducked out of the tent and stepped out of sight.
Qahnaarin let her eyes turn to top of the tent once more, thinking over at Jenassa had told her. If her 'assassin' had wanted her alive, it didn't make much sense, but Jenassa had a point about her wounds. She placed her elbows on the bed roll beneath her, lifting herself up as much as her pain would allow her so she could look down at herself. Jenassa had wrapped a bandage pretty tight over Qahnaarin's torso, a bit of blood still spotting on the side where the Nord assumed the wound was. She reached down and gently prodded at the wound with her fingers, careful not to press too hard, but feeling where the indentation was of where the wound was depeest.
It had definitely pierced deep enough to mortally wound her, but perhaps not bad enough to ensure death. It was almost placed perfectly between her last two ribs, the pain spreading out over her abdomen. She vaguely wondered what she had been wounded with, but her memory seemed to be coming up short on her. The last thing she could remember was passing Helgen and heading down the path towards Riverwood and Whiterun before everything went black. She looked around her, eyes scanning for her things only to come up empty. Qahnaarin frowned, wondering where her gear had went, and thought perhaps Jenassa had left it outside. The only thing in the tent with her was a lamp, a few books that Jenassa had probably been reading to pass the time, the Dunmer's bed roll, and a used hunting bow with a poorly made quiver, a handful of iron arrows peeking out of the top.
The Nord eyed the odd object, head tilting to the side in confusion. That was not Jenassa's weapon. The Dunmer used two identical scimitars, each with their own enchantment she placed on them. One being Soulrender, which not only absorbed the magic people harnessed within them, but also helped to protect her from spell casters. The other was Bloodscythe, which was made solely for the purpose of damaging through thick armor and killing strikes. Aside from the occasional dagger, Qahnaarin had never seen the Dark Elf use any other weapons, and as far as she knew, Jenassa would couldn't use a bow to save her life.
Letting out a huff of air, Qahnaarin laid back down, deciding it best to lay as still as possible until Jenassa got back with dinner. She closed her eyes and listened to her surroundings. She could smell the trees, woody and heavy in its scent. She could hear birds chirping and small animals rushing to and fro in the bushes and scurrying up the thick tree trunks. The air in the tent was cool but not unbearably so, Helgen being far enough South that it didn't feel like winter all the time. Not that being cold was any sort of bother to Qahnaarin. As a Nord, she grew up in Skyrim's harsh coldness, naturally becoming quite indifferent to it for the most part. Still, she was grateful for the slight warmth in the air, as she was not well dressed enough to ward off any serious chill and rattling probably wouldn't do her wounds any good.
It was after that thought that she heard it. A quick and sharp snap of a twig. Her eyes shot open, body tensing at the sound. On the one hand, it was probably Jenassa. On the other, it could also very well be a large animal or even another person. For this area, Qahnaarin would bet it was a bandit. She sat up as quickly as she could, wincing a bit at the pain but pushing through it, hands immediately reaching out to wrap around the bow and grab the quiver beside it. She brought the quiver to her and placed three arrows in her lap, grabbing only one and setting it against the bow, nocking it back. With most of her strength gone, Qahnaarin wasn't able to pull the bow string all the way back, but even only halfway pulled it would do a considerable amount of damage considering it would be shot at close range.
As an archer, Qahnaarin typically liked to be further away when she shot, but being so weak the close range might actually work to her advantage. She took in a quick breath and steadied her arm as the footsteps drew closer, their shadow outlining the side of the tent as they came around front. The flap to the tent was pulled aside and Jenassa stepped through, stopping short at seeing an arrow pointed directly towards her face. Qahnaarin released her breath as she quickly placed the arrow back in her lap, eyeing the Dunmer who had an amused expression onto her face.
"That was quick," Qahnaarin muttered.
"Prepared for a fight, are we?" she asked with a smirk, placing the two rabbits she had caught down just outside the tent. Qahnaarin shrugged and placed the arrows back into their quiver, the bow being set down next to her.
"Well, I wasn't expecting you back so quickly. Figured I was about to be killed and robbed by a bandit," she explained. She looked at the rabbits Jenassa placed down, tilting her head a bit. "That looks appetizing."
"Combine them with some dumplings and potatoes, it'll make a good stew. You complaining?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she grabbed for her knife.
"Me? I would never," Qahnaarin teased. Jenassa shook her head at the Nord and stepped just outside, placing the rabbits to the side and going to work on skinning them. Qahnaarin watched, uninterested, the question forming on her lips without really thinking about it. "Jenassa, where is my stuff?" she asked. The Dunmer stopped and tensed a little, turning to look at Qahnaarin over her shoulder with a small frown on her face. Qahnaarin did not like that body language. "What? What is it?"
"When I found you...your caravan had been ransacked," the Dark Elf started. She turned back to the rabbits, her long hair that was pulled into a high pony falling over her shoulder as she got back to work. "The only thing you had near you when I arrived were the clothes on your back," she finished resolutely.
There was a sinking feeling in Qahnaarin's gut before the anger set in. She scowled and slumped back down, refraining from banging her fist into the ground in annoyance. "My weapons, my armor, and my possession…" she trailed off.
"They're gone my friend. I'm sorry," Jenassa told her quietly. "I was able to take that bow and the arrows, as well as some fur armor off of a dead bandit not far from here. Other than that…" she trailed off, shaking her head.
"I have nothing," Qahnaarin finished. Qahnaarin had been a mercenary for a long time, and over that time she had gained a considerable amount of possessions and septims. Not only that, but she purchased her first ebony bow not too long ago, as well as some really nice armor. Her money, clothes, jewelry, and books had all been in that caravan as well. Qahnaarin was silent as Jenassa worked, angry at her situation. She could feel the heat crawling up her neck and into her face, anger curling in her stomach. "Remember when I said Ingmar was going to get an arrow to the eye for my trouble?" she asked, not waiting for a response. "I've decided that little toad will suffer before I put him out of his misery," she finished bitterly. She heard Jenassa sigh and heard her stand up, coming back fully inside the tent to lean over Qahnaarin.
"I have no doubt Ingmar will suffer greatly before his demise - as he should. I will help you, Qahnaarin."
"I don't need help to kill a man," Qahnaarin started, but Jenassa was already shaking her head.
Jenassa pushed a few strands of the Nord's hair back away from her face, settling the top of the bed roll over her to make sure she kept warm. "Not with Ingmar. You have nothing, and I know that does not sit well with you. Whatever you need to either get your stuff back or perhaps start anew...I will help you."
Qahnaarin looked at her friend with fondness, sighing as she tried to let it go for the moment. "I have no idea how long it will take me to accumulate back what I've lost, and you're supposed to head back to Morrowind in a few months. I can't ask that of you."
Jenassa sat back on her heels with a blank expression on her face, eyes cast downwards at the Nord's words. "I am not going back to Morrowind."
Qahnaarin's eyebrows furrowed at this, thoughts swarming around her head at Jenassa's words. "What? What do you mean you're not going back to Morrowind? That's ridiculous," she started. Jenassa only came to Skyrim to fulfill a promise, one that she fulfilled some time ago. There was really nothing holding her to Skyrim, and she had a sister and niece in Morrowind waiting for her return. "You have to go," she finished, finding anything else completely absurd.
"There's nothing...no one to go home to, Qahnaarin." Jenassa was quiet for a moment and Qahnaarin was unsure of what to say, not really sure what Jenassa meant by that. She sat back up, concerned for her friend now as she placed a hand on her shoulder.
"What is it?" Qahnaarin asked softly, urging her friend to speak. Jenassa was quiet for a few moments more as she seemed to debate on how to best say whatever it was she needed to. After letting out a short breath, Qahnaarin had a feeling her friend just felt it best to say it. That was always how it worked between the two of them - no sugar coating and no beating around the bush.
"My sister was taken by the Thalmor...as was my niece. They're...they're gone," Jenassa's voice was quiet but resolute, but Qahnaarin could hear the pain in her voice. Without saying anything the Nord pulled her friend into an embrace, careful not to lean too far forward and aggravate her wounds, but enough to hold her friend close. Jenassa was still for a moment before wrapping her arms around Qahnaarin, letting out a breath of air.
"I'm sorry," Qahnaarin said softly. "I know what it means to lose people to the Thalmor...I'm so sorry Jenassa." She pulled back from her friend minimally, brushing the hair back from her face. "What can I do?" she asked, eyebrows furrowing. Jenassa's face was stoic but Qahnaarin could see the pain in her eyes.
"Allow me to travel with you, as we have in the past. You're the only family I have left, and as it stands, I don't have anywhere else to be," the Dunmer requested, Qahnaarin nodding in agreement before she had even finished her sentence.
"Of course. You're always welcome with me."
At this, Jenassa offered a smile and pulled back from the Nord, turning towards the rabbits to finish skinning and cutting them up for the stew. Qahnaarin watched her work, a small frown pulling at her lips as she thought about Jenassa's family. To be taken by the Thalmor was not something that was new, especially in Skyrim. Ever since the treaty had been signed between the Dominion and the Empire, the Thalmor were taking citizens left and right, all under the guise of being Talos worshippers. A very familiar hatred curled in Qahnaarin's stomach at the thought of the Thalmor. Elves in general she had no issue with, but the races that made up the Dominion and the Altmer involved could all burn in Oblivion for all she cared.
"Jenassa…" Qahnaarin started, waiting until her friend's attention was on her. "How long do you think before I'm back on my feet?" she asked. Jenassa looked thoughtful at the inquiry, head tilting to the side as she thought about it.
"Normally I would say you have at least another month before you're back to full strength…"
"However…" Qahnaarin prompted, knowing she had more to say.
Jenassa smiled in amusement and shook her head before replying, "Knowing you, you'll probably try to be up on your feet in two weeks." Qahnaarin grinned and sat up a bit, placing a hand just behind her to brace herself so she wouldn't get hurt.
"Well then," she started. "What are we waiting for? Dragons to come back to Tamriel? Let's get me up and moving."
Jenassa snorted at her friend and shook her head once more, placing the finished rabbits near the fire pit and walking back to Qahnaarin, hands finding their way onto her hips. "How, pray tell, do you expect to get up and moving? You can barely move, let alone stand."
"I need one of those health vials…" Qahnaarin muttered. At this, Jenassa's eyebrows lifted in surprise, lips pursing as she followed the Nord's train of thought.
"You would need an alchemist for one of those. They're not cheap, you know."
"A merchant has to have one," Qahnaarin argued. "I have a few contacts...perhaps Kieron can find someone who could either loan me the coin or find me an alchemist who owes him a favor."
Jenassa was already shaking her head at Qahnaarin's suggestion. "No, Kieron is still away on a quest for the Companions. His return is not expected for at least another month, otherwise I would have gone to him already." Qahnaarin frowned at this and crossed her arms, huffing a little in annoyance. "You are impatient," Jenassa told her, ignoring the scowl Qahnaarin sent her way. "So impatient that you're willing to turn to magic to help you."
"Hey, there's nothing wrong with magic…" Qahnaarin defended. It wasn't her go to solution to a problem but, hey, if it worked then who was she to complain? She wasn't a magic user herself, true masters being hard to find and untrusting of anyone with a lesser ability, but she wasn't one to turn her nose to it just because she didn't fully understand it. "Look, the way I see it is I can sit here with nothing to my name for a month and pray I don't die from either attack or sickness. Or we can look for an alternative route. What say you?"
Jenassa let out a sigh as if the whole thing was just a huge burden to her. Qahnaarin knew the elf was teasing but she still pouted up at her, waiting for an answer. "I do get rather bored sitting still for too long," the Elf relented, a small smirk pulling at her lips. Qahnaarin grinned at her friend.
"As do I. Now...let's see if we can get me standing upright. We've got work to do."