Introduction
The following is a brief account or an introduction to the life of Peb, Who is Peb? you ask. Is Peb the Dragonborn who rises from humble beginnings to wielding the power to shake the very mountains? Perhaps a mighty warrior who rips through Dragons as easily as a child ripping through the wrappings of a present? Is he some powerful mage that raises his fallen foes and commands them to die for him a second time? In a word….No!
Peb is none of those things, in fact much the opposite. Peb is a wood elf and I guess you could say part of the lowliest race in Skyrim. Hated by Orc's for being weak, hated by Nords for ….well not being Nords, hated by Imperials for being too alike the High elves and hated by the High elves for not being more like them. Bretons snob them and the Cats well they are about on par with the poor wood elves. Redguards are elitist preferring strength of arm to bow and don't get me started on the Dark elves they don't like anybody. Anyway, enough about the wood elves and their social standing and more on Peb.
Peb's parents were what one would call the unsavoury type's, his father did chop wood for a local mill for about 3 months leading up to Peb's birth and that stands as his greatest "honest" accomplishment in his short miserable life. Just before Peb's birth his father returned to his thieving ways, I guess he stole from the wrong person or he got caught because he can now be found buried in a shallow unmarked grave just outside of Windhelm.
Peb's mother was also not what you could consider a lady of high moral standing and during the pregnancy she often partook in the narcotic pleasures of Skooma. Unfortunately for her and I suppose even more unfortunately for Peb she soon found additional pleasures in a new drug found exclusively in a little backwater dive called Redwater Den. It was there in her last moments of life she gave birth to Peb.
Pebs early life was difficult, brought to the Riften Orphanage he remained under the care Grelod the Kind, what ever happened to her I wonder? As soon as Peb was able , he ran away where he spent his early life on the streets until rousted out by the townsfolk. You see Pebs mother gave Peb the most unfortunate parting gift, a legacy from her narcotic habits. Peb's mind was broken, the part that related to people simply wasn't there. Peb didn't understand people at all; sarcasm, passion, racism and even love were foreign concepts to him. Peb just didn't fit in … anywhere.
Peb's big break came a few years later when he stumbled across a stable just outside Whiterun, half-starved he collapsed in the hay next to a particularly uninterested black mare ironically named Blackie. The next morning a very surprised stable owner named Skulvar Sable-Hilt found the young wood elf still in a state of exhausted slumber. Skulvar a kind and gentle soul bound in a rough exterior took pity on the poor half-starved elf. Skulvar had recently lost his own son, Jervar, in a Dragon attack and the thought of a child in such poor condition tore at his heart strings.
Well I won't go into too much detail on their initial meeting, let's just say it didn't go well, Peb who expected to be beaten, kicked, hunted and generally disliked wasn't that keen on anything Skulvar had to say, and Skulvar who was more at home with horses than men, let alone scared half-starved wood elf children quickly found this wasn't going to be as easy as training a horse. Anyway you get the picture, after the first few days Skulver managed to convince Peb to not quite trust him. It was then Skulvar decided what this youngster needed most was some purpose in his life
His first and only trip with the elfling into Whiterun ended with the city watch, and for that matter most of the city all trying to coax Peb down from the roof of the Bannered Mare. Skulvar learnt a valuable lesson the day, Peb wasn't a people person. After many, many, many failures Skulver was at his wits end drowning his sorrows in a tavern, the barkeeper sick of listening to his uninteresting story offered him the following advice, "well he's an elf aint he, just give the brat a bow, all elves like bows". Although not the most politically correct answer in this case it was the perfect solution.
Peb took to the bow much like his mother did to Redwater Skooma and within a week he was bringing Skulver braces of fat rabbits, then venison and deer hides. Skulver traded them and ever a fair man he saved the funds and brought Peb a hunting bow to replace the old long bow. Within a year there wasn't a better hunter in Whiterun. Anyone who needed something hunted be it a rogue wolf pack, a sabre-toothed cat, frostbite spider, a bear or even a troll Skulver was the man in town to see.
Skulver never let the people know who the real hunter was and pretended it was him. This was not done for pride or greed or want of attention. Peb simply didn't want, need or for that matter, have the ability to deal with the attention this would bring. This simple arrangement suited them both well. Peb got to be outdoors away from people and still have a warm bed and a nice meal each night and Skulver gained an element of prestige in Whiterun and benefitted from the perks this new recognition offered.
Unfortunately Peb couldn't bring himself to trust Skulver even this far into their relationship his distrust of people was so deep, so ingrained and he simply didn't understand the concept of trust or love and so he maintained a significant emotional distance from the kindly Stable owner. This fact was not lost on Skulver who had grown fond of his young charge and thought of him now as his son. I think deep down it hurt Skulver not to be able to embrace of even tell Peb that he loved him.
So now you know enough about Peb for me to begin this story, perhaps I should also tell you one last thing, why is he named Peb?As you know his father died shortly before his birth and his mother died giving birth to him so where did his name come from. Skulver asked the very same question one day and this is what Peb said "It's short for my real name that the Orphanage owner gave me" Skulver thought on this then asked "What name did she give you, I think I would prefer to know you full name, seems I should call you that". Peb replied in a flat tone, "Pointy Eared Bastard" after a few awkward second of silence Skulver tactfully said "Nah on second thought Peb is fine".
Now after a convoluted introduction to the main character The Story Proper.
Skulver Sable-Hilt opened the door to his house, it creaked alarmingly. Looking down he noticed one of the hinges had come loose and made a mental note forge a couple of spare nails. Closing the door gently, he looked out over the fields towards the Western Watchtower. It was a glorious morning the fog was already burning off the fields and the cloudless sky promised a warm day, Skulver absently rubbed his long brown moustache savouring them moment. "Well no point standing around gawking, that won't achieve anything useful" he mumbled to himself.
As he walked down the front steps he noticed Nimriel carrying a bucket walking up the road towards the town, "Yo! Nimriel what brings you into the big smoke?" has jovially asked, Nimriel looked up and replied "I need to get some supplies and Gloth didn't come home last night. Gloth and Nimriel maintained the Pelagia farm and were both well know and well liked around Whiterun. Skulver was pretty sure Gloth would be found snoring on the step of the Bannered Mare, he liked the occasional drink. "Don't be too hard on him" Skulver said, this brought an evil grin from Nimriel "no more than usual" she replied. Skulver laughed he was glad he wasn't in Gloths shoes this morning.
Skulver made his way around to the stables giving his new horse Jesebel a feisty bay mare a pat on the flank, "morning girl". Sliding his arm expertly down her leg he gently lifted her leg and inspected her infected hoof. The poultice was holding well and the sickly sweet smell of infection was gone. "You will be good as new in no time". Skulver had picked up this horse from a trader from Windhelm who had bluntly told him it was lame. The haggled for a price and Skulver managed to get it for a fifth of its worth. Within a week he could put her on the market for a tidy thousand gold.
"Peb are you up yet" Skulver moved into the stall now converted into a bed for the young wood elf. Peb was sitting on the edge of his bed carefully oiling his hunting bow. "Peb is up, he is" exclaimed the elf." I got word of a job, pays well but it's a bit far a field" Skulver said leaning against the edge of the stall. Peb absorbed this and didn't offer a reply. Skulver continued "Apparently there is a cat killing livestock over near Ivarstead". "Cat got to eat" Peb replied, "Yeah that's true but this cat just ate a young lady " Skulver added. "Look Peb you don't got to talk to no one just go in find the trail kill the cat and leave". Peb considered then replied "Peb will do this thing".
Skulver regarded the young elf fondly "Be careful Peb you know cats are nasty and this one sounds like a monster" Peb looked up his face impassive as always "Cat is not monster, cat is not nasty, cat is only cat, eat deer is ok, eat cow is ok eat lady not ok, now Peb kill cat" Skulver sighed one thing about Peb he could always count on was his logic. "When will you leave?" Skulver asked "Later today, Peb need to gather some poison". "Well let me know before you leave I will pack some supplies for you'. Peb nodded and turned his attention back to his bow.
The morning passed uneventfully and Skulver met Peb at the appointed time and watched as Peb prepared his gear for the trip. Skulver marvelled at the attention to detail Peb applied to his preparation. Peb used thin leather strips to tie all his belonging into place making sure nothing rattled then covered every piece of metal with a dull dyed cloth to hide any possible reflection. He carefully rubbed all his equipment down with a mixture of blue wild flower and common cotton bush to hide any scent. Then he carefully packed his belongings ensuring his pack was well balanced. Once this was done he donned his pack then jumped up and down a few times listening for the slightest sound. A few more minor adjustments and he was ready to go.
Skulver walked with Peb to the start of the trail, Peb never used trails as such he skirted around the edges ever fearful of confrontation a legacy from his youth. They said their farewells and then Peb stepped into the bush and was gone. Try as he might Skulver could never keep Peb is site once he entered the thicket. Pebs wood craft and stealth were almost supernatural, he simply vanished a few paces in. Skulver watched in silence for a few minutes silently wishing his young charge well.
Borris was just finishing his patrol when he noticed someone standing up the road seemingly staring up an empty trail. As he got closer he recognised Skulver, "Yo Skulver, expecting someone?" he asked in a friendly manner. Skulver turned at the sound and saw Borris one of the Whiterun Hold Guards walking up the road behind him. Skulver knew Borris well, he had once been an intrepid adventurer however an encounter a few years back with some Forsworn up near Markarth he had taken an arrow in the knee. Unable to walk the many miles required of a freelance adventurer he moved to Whiterun and had been here ever since. "Nah, just taking in the sites" replied Skulver. If Borris found this comment strange he didn't say anything. "Well I'm just about finished for the night, want to grab an ale or two? ", Borris offered. "Sure, why not" Skulver answered and with that they both turned and slowly walked back towards Whiterun.
Peb watched as the two figures retreated back towards the town; he always liked to observe Skulver after he said his goodbyes. He had been puzzled when Skulver had mouthed the words stay safe son, that didn't make sense his son had been killed many years ago. Peb absently reached down to his belt and felt the reassuring touch of his poison pouch. This was something Skulver had made for him; it was an intricate weave of leather, rabbit's fur and silver. Together they wove a protective case around his precious glass vials.
A few years ago on one of Peb's early hunts he had fallen and a poison vial had broken, its caustic contents burning into his side. He had limped home and despite his efforts to hide his injury Skulver had known something was wrong. Once he found the burn he was furious and Peb had thought he was angry at him, he had cringed expecting a blow only to have the giant man look at him uncomprehendingly, then breakdown and weep. This reaction still confounded Peb.
The very next day after a visit from a very put out Arcadia the proprietor of Arcadia's Cauldron, Peb was confined to bed rest and drinking fouls tasting potions. Skulver got started on the poison pouch, he worked on it for many days often consulting Adrianne the blacksmith of Whiterun, he even spoke at length to Eorlund Gray-Mane the legendary blacksmith to the Companions. Then late one night he presented the pouch to Peb. Peb could easily see this was exceptional workmanship and he thanked Skulver and then added it was the best design he had ever seen, which was the truth. Skulver had beamed at the comment and then he sat down and explained he was never angry with Peb, he had been angry that the injury had occurred. This like the earlier weeping didn't make any sense.
Peb thought about this and then he glanced down at his poison belt, he didn't know why but he was sure this meant more to him that his hunting bow. Frowning at this revelation he stepped lightly out of the tree he was hiding in, then with unnatural stealth he began to pick his way through the wilderness. Peb prided himself on his ability to remain hidden, for him it wasn't a game or a profession for him stealth was the only thing that came between him and death. His earliest memories were of hiding to avoid pain, either from other children, adults and even angry mobs. His stealth later served him well to avoid wild creatures, even Dragons. Many times Peb had hidden as giant predators sort him out; stealth and woodcraft were his safety nets.
Peb slipped through the remains of Helgen then past the old Stormcloaks encampment, the mighty Dragonborn had crushed the Stormcloak rebellion and put Jarl Ulfric, the murderer of the High King to the sword. Peb often found remnants of the battles on his travels, a battered helm or a broken sword. Peb avoided travellers and settlements alike as he made his way around the base of mountain, somewhere far above him the fortress High Hrothgar, housed the legendary Grey Beards. Peb shuddered at the thought, it was said they spoke like dragons and only the Dragonborn herself was their equal in power. Such thoughts kept him especially alert, the last thing Peb needed was to run into one of those nasty old men.
Peb easily found the tracks of the Sabre-tooth some distance from the village of Ivastead He squatted down next to the prints and placed his hand directly over the paw print. "Mmm, you are a big cat, a wanderer perhaps, this is not good country to hunt in for you " frowning he felt the depression, "You are in poor condition, not as fat as you should be". Leaping nimbly to the next print he examined it closely. "You are walking with a limp, you are hurt" thinking on this Peb looked towards the direction the prints were heading. The tracks were a few days old and the cat was clearly moving away from the settlement. "Yes cat, I understand, you eat girl because you can't catch deer" Peb stood up observing the direction of the wind, he would be tracking with the wind in his face, this was good.
Peb had followed the tracks for two days and was now approaching higher ground at the base of the mountain and it appeared the animal had taken refuge in a rocky crevice. Hunting injured animals was dangerous however most of the animals Peb was asked to hunt were injured. Perhaps a careless hunter took a pot shot or the cat ventured to close to a town and was shot. Perhaps it got injured in a territorial dispute with another cat, it mattered not, unable to hunt it would eventually get so hungry its need to eat would override its fear of man. Peb had seen the cat late yesterday it was large as the tracks told him and in poor condition. It had a patch of fur missing above its eye and Peb decided to name him Patch. He always named his quarry it was a measure of respect, the cat might not mean much to the villages or the girls family but to Peb this was a magnificent creature that had fallen on hard times.
The wind was gusty and the afternoon light was waning, tracking the animal further in these conditions would be a serious mistake. Peb could detect the faint smell of carrion and had determined the wounded cat had moved into scavenge an easy meal. It wouldn't leave such a prize unless it was forced too. Peb moved back down the mountain and set up a rough camp where he could easily observe the main trail and the exit to the crevice. Settling in for the night he ate a cold meal of heavily spiced dried fish and washed it a mixture of mead and water. "Tomorrow cat Peb will come for you, tonight eat well and dream of better times, Peb will send you on your final journey, you will be free of the pain the fear and the hunger".
Reaching absently down to his ever-present pouch he withdrew a small vial containing his poison of choice, it was made of river betty, deathbell and a salt pile a nasty combination that poisoned and slowed the target, more importantly there was little pain to the animal. He slipped the vial carefully back into its protective sleeve and then meticulously inspected his bow and arrows for any sign or fault or flaw, satisfied everything was perfect he tucked them securely away. Leaning back against a large rock he drifted into a state of semi sleep waiting for the wind to change to a more favorable direction. That night it drizzeled just enough to make it uncomfortable and Peb got very little sleep.
The next day the winds were favorable for a southerly approach, Peb stealthily crept up the trail to the side of the entrance to the rocky crevice. The carrion smell was very strong here the cat was definitely feeding on something dead. His arrow already primed with a slowing poison he scaled the rocks until he could see the animal. The cat named patch was asleep his swollen belly full of food. Peb took carful aim his bow fully drawn back, settling his aim on the sweet spot he would ensure the arrow pierced bot lungs. With a final silent goodbye he released his arrow. The accurate placement and poison were more than enough, the cat shuddered tried to move took only a few paces and died. Peb fired another arrow mirroring the placement of the first, no point approaching a dangerous animal unless you are sure it's dead.
Leaping lightly down Peb walked over to the dead cat and withdrew his arrows, "Well Patch, Peb promised you a quick end and now it is so" He gently ruffled the saber tooth's fur, "Now let me see that injury". Hopping nimbly over the cat he found a festering wound and with a little digging extracted a broken barbed steel arrow. "Mmm, imperial shoot cat, cat kill girl, Peb clean up mess" Peb stood up and looked around the crevice, the stench of the dead creature the cat had been feeding on was really overpowering. Something about it didn't seem right to Peb. Moving carefully around a boulder he discovered the source of the stench. "Oh cat….oh cat….no, no, no, no; what have you gone and done" ,Peb stepped back absently feeling for his poison pouch. "This is bad cat, this is very bad".
Peb walked back to the cats meal not believing his senses, "Cat killed girl they said, yes but this girl" clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth. "No, no, no this is all wrong". Peb walked back towards the cat his mind racing, "This is just a mistake, a different girl, Peb just needs to look, proper look". For the third time he moved to the partially eaten corpse, leaning down he moved the remains and looked at the armor, "Bad cat very bad cat" looking around he found a finely crafted backpack. Opening it up he sat back in shock dropping the backpack, a heavily jeweled star shaped crystal tumbled out of the fallen backpack. Everyone in Skyrim knew what this was, and everyone in Skyrim knew the owner. Peb sat in stunned silence then he turned to back to the cat, grasping its head he lifted it shaggy head and stared at it then in a mournful voice said "Cat you are eating the Dragonborn".
Peb stood up no cat was capable of killing the mighty Dragonborn, Peb doubted there was any creature alive that was capable of killing the Dragonborn. Peb walked back to the corpse and looked down at what remained of this mightiest of warriors. "You singlehandedly slayed scores of dragons, you killed the worldeater, how is it you now lie here?" Peb scanned the area for some clue, he looked for and tracks or sign of a struggle. There was nothing, Peb scratched his chin. He puzzled over this mystery for a few minutes then he noticed a mark on the rocks above the body. Blood and skin on the rocks, "Dragonborn not walk here no, no" looking up slowly "Dragon Born fall from sky, you fall off mountain". Directly above the crevice some 200 feet was a rocky outcrop "Peb need truth and truth is up Mountain".
Peb carefully scaled the last of the cliff and was soon standing on the outcrop far above the rocky crevice, part of the ledge was clearly broken off and scratch marks matched the desperate attempts the Dragonborn made to save herself. Peb looked around for signs of foul play, there were no other tracks. The Dragonborn was climbing down the face of the mountain and slipped to her death. Peb snorted "You were taking shortcut, you died taking shortcut to avoid the 7000 steps" Peb shook his head in disbelief.
Peb carefully climbed back down and slumped next to Patch he absently put his hand over the big cat and rubbed his flank. How he was going to handle this new development. This was unfamiliar ground for the young wood elf, his first instinct was to just leave, then he thought about Skulver. "He would not just leave Patch, no he would not". After many conversations with the now dead cat named Patch a plan was formulated. Peb dug a grave in the corner of the Crevice then gently stripped the armor off the Dragonborn, Peb was surprised at how small she was in real life, he always imagined her as a large brawny woman. Another surprising discovery was that the damage done by the animals was limited to her head, neck and chest. Her helm had dislodged on the fall yet her armor had protected most of her body. He left her dressed in her undergarments and he tenderly folded her arms across her chest. He found a woolen blanket in her belongings and as a last measure wrapped her body up tightly binding it with twine. Then after being unable to think of anything to say he hastily filled in the grave. He then stacked rocks upon the grave so that no animal could further damage her; with a final inspiration he camouflaged the grave so that no one would be able to find her until he returned with some help to collect the body.
Peb then collected her belongings and discovered a large flaw in his initial plans, her armor was heavy and awkward, there was no way Peb could carry this and in fact he was surprised the Dragonborn was able to walk in this at all. Peb wasn't going to risk leaving this armor behind he felt bad enough leaving this mighty hero let alone her belongings. He sat down pondering his situation. Peb decided he would wear the armor, at least try it on and see if that allowed him to carry the rest of her equipment. Peb could stash his own belongings that were far less valuable and then return later to collect them when they came to retrieve the body.
Peb picked up the first piece of armor; it was jet back and unnaturally heavy, over the next twenty minutes he struggled with the unwieldy apparel and eventually had on everything except the helm. This was not going to work at all, Peb sighed. It was built for a woman and it was too tight in some places and too loose in others. It didn't take a blacksmith to realize within the first mile Peb would be chafed raw. Peb was annoyed for such a mighty warrior why would you wear such heavy armor and the pieces didn't appear to even match or align properly "no wonder you fell silly girl". Peb reflected for a moment, they seemed to fit fine enough when the Dragonborn was wearing them. "Well they don't fit now" mumbled Peb to himself in frustration.
He was reaching down to unclip one of the many buckles that held this rag tag armor together when he suddenly stopped; he was wearing the armor of the most powerful warrior, well former most powerful warrior. He picked up the sword and unsheathed it, instantly bathed in the warm light of the Dragonborns sword Dawnbreaker, it was said to make undead creatures burst in to flame when it struck them. Peb smiled caught up in the moment, he gave the sword a couple of swings imagining himself battling dragons and giants. He then sheathed the powerful blade feeling a little foolish. He looked down and saw the helm, the only piece he hadn't tried on, grinning to himself he picked up the ebony headpiece and donned the heavy black helm.
Two things struck Peb the instant the helm settled on his shoulders, this was a grave mistake and the armor was alive and about to eat him. Peb panicked the armor was, definitely moving and it was closing in on him, what moments before and been ridiculously heavy and cold was now was now warm and malleable. He felt the chest plate expand and the legs shrink the shoulders plates stretch and cover his body. Peb had never been so scared in his life and this was something he could not escape or hide from. Closing his eyes he waited for the inevitable death, he waited for the armor to crush him or devour him. Peb began to scream.
After a few rather terrifying moments, Peb came to the realization that screaming didn't seem to be helping his situation. In fact this armor was taking a terribly long to time enact its magical vengeance upon him. It felt warm and comfortable; actually it felt great, really great. It was light, like his own leather armor, and he felt strong, confident even powerful. Peb moved around the crevice getting a feel for the armor, it didn't creak like it should it seemed to bend when he flexed or extended. Taking an experimental jump he found he could leap just as high if not higher than he normally could. Peb flexed his fingers looking down at the gauntlets they seemed to nimble to be metal. He gently punched the rock, then he punched it a little harder and continued until he was punching as hard as he could. There was no pain, no shock and the armor had no scratches it looked like it had just been polished.
Peb tried to recall the many stories he had heard about the Dragonborn, she was an enchanter, she had made the Jarl of Whiterun a powerful bow once, and perhaps she made this armor. Peb had seen his share enchanted items before; most living in Skyrim had. Yet this was something Peb couldn't have even imagined, he could definitely carry everything now in fact he wanted to carry everything he was keen to see what other surprises this magical armor had. Suddenly remembering the Dragonborn he turned to the well hidden grave. "Peb will return this armor to your people and then Peb will bring them here" Then turning towards the very dead Saber-toothed cat he said "Well cat you cannot stay here any longer"
Peb then picked up the cat, and even in its poor condition he should not have been able to do this, pleasantly surprised at his new found abilities he easily carried the cat out of the crevice and stashed it so that its eventual decay wouldn't bring predators or people anywhere near the resting place of the Dragonborn. Returning to the crevice he emptied both packs and repacked the Dragonborns pack with both sets of possessions, there were many interesting items in the Dragonborn's pack but Peb didn't have the time to examine them all. He stored his pack and armor in a shallow depression and covered it with a rock. Taking a last look around he was satisfied no one would discover his gear or the Dragonborn he covered all the signs including the bloodied rocks, the tracks in the crevice and the tracks leading to it.
He buckled the mighty Dawnbreaker feeling a little foolish and shouldered his trusty hunting bow and collected the pack. With a last look over his shoulder he turned and started up the trail. Peb knew the Dragonborn lived near Solitude somewhere and with that in mind he moved off the trail. It didn't take long for Peb to realize that sneaking through the undergrowth was not going to be an option wearing this armor and carrying a sword as well as two lots of possessions. Peb stopped and weighted up his options, he would have to travel the road and hopefully have time to hide if he encountered anyone. So reluctantly he moved back onto the road and feeling very exposed set off at a brisk pace.
Peb travelled throughout the remaining day late into the night, he made a cold camp and slept wearing his armor propped against a tree. Early next morning his luck ran out when he rounded a corner and walked into a couple of very unsavory looking individuals. "Well well…" one of them began when the other suddenly grabbed his friend by the shoulder and squealed, "Dragonborn! It's the bloody Dragonborn…Run!". Peb spun around looking for the Dragonborn before realizing they thought he was the Dragonborn. Both of them ran off into the undergrowth. Peb watched in disbelief as they stumbled over logs and rocks disappearing into the distance at an incredible pace. "Well Peb not Dragonborn but Peb will pretend if it keeps bandits away".
Peb managed to avoid two more travelers that day each time hiding in the undergrowth; one appeared to be a hunter and the other just some nameless adventurer. That night Peb came across a minstrel who had set up camp on the side of the trail, Peb was creeping around him when the minstrel's sharp eyes discovered him. "Come out of the cold friend and share my fire" Peb reluctantly moved to the opposite side of the camp and wordlessly say down. The minstrels seemed unperturbed by this and carried on, "Don't talk much eh?, no matter I can talk for the both of us"
Over the next hour of so the minstrel spoke of many things from the new Jarl at Riften to the siting of Stormcloak renegades near Helgen, he didn't seem to need or want Peb's input and was happy just to have an audience. This suited Peb who was feeling very uncomfortable and out of place. After telling a particularly funny song about a Giant that fell in love with a farmer only to have the farmer steal his Mammoth Cheese. The minstrel indicated he was turning in.
As the minstrel turned he hesitated then turned back to Peb. "Look friend I don't like to get into peoples affairs but I must say I like your costume, you even have the Glow of the sword down pat I can see it emanating from the sheath, that's how I saw you in the dark earlier, glowing mushroom would be my guess" The minstrel paused expecting a reply, finding none he continued. "There is however a major flaw ", the minstrel cupped his hands on his own chest and juggled them" The Dragonborn has boobs and you my friend do not". With a harsh laugh the mistrial retired to his camp bed. Peb stood all his illusions of maintaining his disguise shattered, he quickly gathered his equipment and hurried off into the night, he wanted to get as far away from this camp as possible.
The next morning Peb thought about the disguise, the bandits had fled easily enough yet there would be those that would see straight his ruse and possibly challenge him, he had no illusions how that would turn out magical armor or not . Thinking about this some more he suddenly had an idea, a crazy idea to be sure, but it might just work. Peb moved off the road and stripped off the armor watching it as it turned back into the heavy hard lifeless metal. Collecting his bow he then went out looking for the right animal. An hour later Peb had collected all he needed, he had found a small stream, skinned a freshly killed deer and had collected the brain and kidneys from the deer carcass.
Lighting a small fire Peb made a crude brain tanning mix from the organs and smoke cured it over the fire. He then molded the leather into two small bowls with beveled edges using small rocks. Next he baked them over the fire until they were hard. He then made a simple harness joining the bowls together with and a couple of thin leather strips. With the remaining leather he made a thick strip that laced together. The bowls in the harness he strapped to his chest and the leather strip he used as a makeshift corset He padded the bowls with some rabbit down and then donned the Dragonborn's armor. Just like before heavy armor came alive and molded to his body shape. This time it molded around the small bowls on his chest and hugged his now thinner waist. "Hmph..Peb has boobs now".
Satisfied that this would pass everything accept the closest inspection Peb collected his equipment and continued with his journey, over the next couple of day he passed a couple of travelers some recognized the Dragonborn others didn't however they gave the imposing armor a wide birth. Peb's confidence grew and he was able to navigate the roads and its travelers with a few nods and hand gestures. Peb was beginning to enjoy this new found confidence and was making good time, by his estimates he should be close to the Dragonborn 's manor in a couple more days.
Peb was shaken out of his musings by a distant roar; quickening his pace he suddenly heard the scream of a woman, galvanized he sprinted towards the source further down the trail. He came around bend to be greeted by an overturned burning wagon still attached to a very burnt dead horse. The smell of smoke was thick in the air and a soot covered young lady was cradling a small unconscious child crying. Peb didn't need to ponder this situation he knew exactly what he was facing. Only one thing in Skyrim could cause such a scene. As if sensing his thoughts the dragon sailed overhead unleashing a mightily roar. Peb had never hunted a dragon, one simple doesn't hunt dragons, dragons hunt you. Drawing his bow with practiced ease he sent three arrows in quick succession towards the beast.
Peb was excellent at sneaking and hiding however he was a master of the bow and perhaps the best hunter in all of Skyrim, although he had never hunted dragons he had often contemplated how such a hunt could be successfully achieved. His arrows found their mark and the giant beast roared in indignation. Peb swiftly coated his remaining arrows in his most potent poison and tracking this flying giant he loosened arrow upon arrow with incredible accuracy, the great beast made an easy target and Peb had put enough poison into the creature to kill twenty bears. The dragon sharply circled and found its antagonist, without hesitation it swooped down ignoring the constant stream of arrows and unleashed its fiery breath.
Peb dodged aside as the dragon spewed its fire at him, the massive head locked onto him and tracked his dive, Peb had no chance to avoid the attack, the fire washed upon him Pep flew backwards absorbed in the might of the great dragons breath. The he was clear of the breath, the magic of the armor proving more than a match for the fire, Peb was burnt although not badly and his prized bow was ruined beyond repair. Peb knew his poison was working its way through the beast and he was confident the beast was doomed now he just had to survive long enough for the poison to work. Regaining his feet he drew the mighty Dawnbreaker and moved back onto the trail. He had to keep the attention off the lady and the child. The Dragon now ravaged by poison smashed into the trail and lunged its massive jaws at Peb. Rolling to his side and at the same time slashing with Dawnbreaker he avoided the Dragons jaws and felt the sword dig into the side of the dragons head. Peb could see the dragon was reeling, sensing an advantage he took two steps and leaped at the ailing beast Dawnbreaker flashed in the afternoon air as the sword cut deeply into the neck of the dragon. The dragon mortally wounded blindly lashed its tail towards Peb striking him just before he landed from his leap and sent him spinning into the underbrush. Peb fell heavily and rolled twice before regaining his feet. Rising he charged back towards the dragon just in time to see the creature tumble to the ground. Lightly leaping onto its head he drove Dawnbreaker to the hilt in the dragon's skull.
The beast gave a mighty shudder lets out a gurgling breath and died. Peb was exhausted he drew the blade out and then turned back to the lady and the child. "No!" he screamed dis-guarding Dawnbreaker he rushed over to the now blackened and burnt remains of the woman. Her last act been to shield the child with her body, yet it had been fruitless, the incredible heat had claimed them both. Ripping off his helm he fell to the ground beside them. He had tried so hard and still they had died. "Peb tried beautiful lady, Peb killed dragon' then Peb wept. He didn't know these people however he knew how it felt to be helpless. Peb buried both the lady and the child in the same grave and marked it with some wood off the cart and wildflowers.
Collecting his things he replaced his helm and then moved over to the dragon's corpse, he couldn't think of anything to say, he tried to understand the beast however he couldn't. Peb hated the Dragon, for the first time in his life he really hated something. He set up camp a couple of miles down the track and removing his armor, he discovered he had been burnt in a few places, the armor had saved his life but he still needed to treat his injuries. Peb wasn't going anywhere for a few days. He applied what healing balms he had to the burns and soon drifted off to a troubled sleep haunted by the lady and the child he couldn't save.
The next day Peb awoke in pain, he forced himself up and gingerly collected the herbs he needed to make further healing balms. He was exhausted by the time he returned to the camp and unable to hunt, he settled for the last of his dried fish. It was bland and hard to chew and Peb knew he needed better food if he was to recover enough to continue. After eating he prepared the balm and applied to the worst of his burns. Peb opened up the pack and sorted through the Dragonborn's belongings; he found a small sack of potions however none of them remotely resembled healing potions. And it was dangerous to experiment with anyone's potions other than you own.
He was about to return the small sack to the pack when he caught a glimpse of something shiny in the bottom of the pouch. Reaching in, he pulled out a small intricately shaped bronze colored ring. Peb knew that rings were a far safer option than potions and it made sense to store a healing ring with potions. He placed the ring on his finger and waited to feel the healing effects. A gently infusion filled his body and he immediately felt healthier and no longer exhausted however his burns remained. Peb shrugged this was a ring of stamina not one of healing, still it was better than nothing. Peb was hungry, it had only been a short time since he ate but for some reason he was feeling very hungry. Picking through the pack he found some dried meat and proceeded to eat after a few mouthfuls he suddenly didn't want any more. He still felt hungry just not for dried meat, what a strange feeling he thought. He was still hungry he just couldn't work out what he wanted.
The next day the healing balm had done enough for him to continue. Once he had the armor back on he didn't feel too bad, it's comforting magical effects and the magical ring seemed to infuse him further. He was still incredibly hungry and he had scant chance of catching anything without his bow. He continued down the road for about half a mile and he came across more of the dragon's handiwork. Some poor sole was lying on the side of the trail, surrounded by massive tracks it appeared he had died trying to run away. Peb knelt down beside the man and suddenly the ring on his finger flared sending a burning sensation straight up his arm into his mind. Peb head hurt it was if something was being forced in his mind, the pain and shock gave way to hunger a deep primitive urge overwhelmed his senses and he instinctively tore into the human corpse ripping off and eating great chunks.
Peb mind screamed with revulsion he threw himself backwards spitting out bits of this poor person. He starred uncomprehendingly at what he had just done, he was still ravenously hungry. Turning aside he run to the other side of the track and collapsed, what had just happened? Peb felt sick, a sickness of the soul, he cradled his head in his hands. Realization crashed through his mind like a giants club, ripping his gauntlets off he tore at the offending ring, it seemed to try and cling to him before slipping off. Instantly the hunger abated, he stared at the bronze ring in the palm of his hand 'What kind of demon are you", hastily he shoved it back into the potion pouch then he bound the pouch with a leather strip. Something else felt peculiar Peb tore at his armor sliding his hand under his shoulder he felt his skin, the burns were gone there was no pain, in fact he felt great.
Peb couldn't even look at the corpse, he wanted to bury the poor soul but he didn't trust himself after what that cursed ring had just made him do. He collected his gauntlets and ran down the road, he ran until he was exhausted. Only then could he bring himself think about anything else. He needed to get this equipment to the Dragonborn's Manor and get rid of it, put this whole horrible experience behind him. He wanted to be home with Skulver, he wanted to leave this nightmare behind him. Peb thought about this further, he missed Skulver, he missed his room, he missed the kindly horse trader.