Chapter One: The Beginning
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Bethesda Studios except my OC's. No profit has been made. Copyright peeps please spare me.
Summary: Evelyn never expected to wake up in Tamriel. Follow her adventures through Skyrim as she tries to adjust to the new normal. What could possibly go wrong? AU non-Dragonborn main character. Rating may change to M later
Note: It always annoyed me how the Dragonborn got railroaded into just about everything and the kitchen sink, so I decided to stick someone in Tamriel that would resist the call of the plot (at least a little bit). I also decided to make them not-the-Dragonborn because, well, why not? So here goes nothing, just my attempt to wreak havoc in the Elder Scrolls universe using a particularly stubborn college student. As I said before, what could possibly go wrong?
Characters: Estormo, Vyrthur, OCs (you'll have to meet them), Hermaeus Mora, Dragonborn, with a side of Ondolemar, Savos Aren, Miraak, Molag Bal, and Gelebor
Just another note: The rating on this is mainly due to my plans for later chapters, which will be getting darker at times, and there will be no lemons or extreme cussing. I'm just not comfortable with writing that kind of stuff.
I try to update every week, and comments and constructive criticism are always welcome!
Everything was quiet today in the house. Her parents had gone off to a party, and her brother was at school.
Evelyn was home alone and knew exactly how she wanted to spend her time – reading, doodling, or just listening to music. Anything but that homework due after the break. Her cat Mittens agreed. The calico could be found wandering the house in search of loose papers to 'kill' and plants to chew. Strange cat, Evelyn thought as Mittens started chewing a fake fern. She looked back down to her book and continued reading.
She was interrupted, however, when the TV flashed an "urgent" report. It seemed that another person had been found dead – killed with what the forensics experts believed to be a studded baseball bat. The body had been found on a hiking path in the woods. Another person who shouldn't have gone out alone, she thought. She was well aware of the danger of jogging solo – especially with all these cases popping up over the country of people getting themselves murdered by some crazy medieval fanatic.
The murders were far enough apart timewise that they could have been a single person, but some conspiracy theorists were arguing for a medieval cult – secretly hidden under everyone's noses. The Renaissance Festival had been called off for the year because it was still "too fresh in the minds of the survivors."
Huh. Evelyn had some doubts about that reasoning. It was probably because they would be practically begging for lawsuits if they held the fair and someone got hurt or killed. She watered the plants, fed the cat, and then went back to reading.
Out of the corner of her eye she watched as the news-lady went over the information currently known about the killer, and their trail of destruction. The victims had all been found in strange medieval gear, so the police were trying to track down suppliers of Renaissance Festival apparel in the hopes of finding a paper trail to the murderer (with little success). Another reason why the Renfest is closed.
The presenters continued to discuss the movement patterns of the murderer. Washington had been hit first, where a man was found in animal hides frozen into a snowbank. He was apparently stabbed to death with an icicle. Then, a couple of years later, a woman in South Dakota looked to have been killed with a hunting bow. Another woman was found in Michigan, and officials believed that she could have been killed by wolves.
But, you don't just find wolves in a small running park, so the detectives were toying with the idea that the killer might have some sort of large pet dog.
It was a person here, a person there, all with unusually brutal deaths. Detectives were advising people in Maine to stay indoors and to call the police if they grew suspicious of anything. Overall though, this was all happening far away from Texas, so Evelyn was feeling pretty safe in her house down … she was home alone… better safe than sorry. She checked the locks in the house again.
Everything was locked and secure, and she could breathe a bit easier. She'd have to unlock the door later for her brother when the bus dropped him off, but until then Evelyn could chill with her music and work on college homework (sure it may be due "after" the break, but in reality that just means that waiting will leave you with a 20 page essay to write in two days). Professor Sterling was determined to kill her students, she could just feel it. She turned her music on and began scribbling away at the notes.
As time wore on, she began to feel more and more uneasy. The room seemed too still, and she couldn't remember the last time she saw Mittens running by. Maybe the little calico is taking a nap? Evelyn tried to keep reading but it felt as if she was being watched.
Finally reaching her breaking point of creepiness, Evelyn turned her music off and went upstairs to get away from the ground-floor windows. Quiet. It was dead silent in the house. She checked the upper windows. Nothing unusual was near the house – nothing, no one, nada. Reassured that everything was normal, Evelyn felt a bit foolish after calming down from her moment of paranoia. The floorboards creaked under her feet as she crept back down the stairs. Yet again, better safe than sorry. She looked around the living room downstairs. No one was there. She was the only one in the house. No noises of anyone in or open any doors – a good sign in her book.
Then she realized. There was no sound – no noise – no TV. She hadn't turned the TV off.
Her throat tightened and she could feel her stomach drop away. Someone had turned the TV off, and that someone had most definitely not been her. They were in the house. She didn't know how, but whoever it was had gotten in – probably before she locked the doors – and they had likely been creeping around for a while by now. She was terrified. Why hadn't she realized the TV was dark? Why hadn't she locked the doors earlier?
Her eyes darted around the room as she backed up to the stairwell. She kept her breathing as quiet as possible.
Now fully panicking, her brain was most unhelpful in dragging up the worst case scenarios. It could be a robber, or it could be a kidnapper, it might even be a murderer or a gang! Did they know she was here? Whoever it was must have heard her walking around – she just spent fifteen minutes creaking around the house floorboards!
But that brought up a worse question – why hadn't they shown themselves, they must know that she was aware of them now, why leave her out and risk her calling the police?
The police! She needed to call the police! Evelyn fumbled her phone out and turned it on. Or at least tried to. The screen remained black. I thought it was charged! Home phone it is, then. She pocketed her phone. She didn't feel comfortable enough running to the kitchen landline, so she decided on the upstairs phone.
Evelyn tried as best she could to get up the stairs without them creaking, but that stubborn step squealed at the last second. Cringing, she finished the climb and shuffled as quickly and quietly over to the phone as possible.
And then the lights flickered and died. Someone had cut the power. No home phone, then. She was beginning to feel sick – that tight uneasy feeling you get in your stomach, and the cold shivering even when it's warm outside. Her throat felt constricted, any noise might give her location away. The neighbors would all be at work, no one she knew was nearby. There would be no calling for help.
It was then that she remembered a snippet of the news broadcast. The murders had all been relatively unique in the method and target, but there was one commonality between the victims – they were all terrified. None of them were shocked or peaceful like a clean assassination, they were all abjectly horrified, staring down their fate and knowing that they would fail. Whoever had killed them had made sport of it. Not someone who simply killed those in their way. A sadist.
She couldn't slow down her breathing any longer. She could hear it over the silence in the house. Too loud. Too loud. The killer would hear and find her if she couldn't slow her breathing down.
She would not get a quick death if this person caught her. She would be caught and then … she couldn't think about it. It was too horrifying. No one knew what happened to the victims in between their abduction and death, but they were always found brutally killed.
A scraping noise sounded from downstairs.
It was final - there was someone inside her house, and they were not friendly. What if they find me? What if they're a murderer? What if they already know I'm here? The scraping sound was closer. There were footsteps too. Heavy footsteps.
They're going to kill me! Her eyes were dry, wide and frightened. Then the fight or flight kicked in. No.
She decided that she was not going to be another of those victims. She had no desire to be murdered, she hadn't even graduated from college yet! So, she tried to think of ways out. Going downstairs is out of the question, her bedroom window had a screen, the front window won't open – the bathroom window! It can open!
She ran to the bathroom and closed the door, locking it before unlatching the window. She had just thrown caution and stealth to the wind.
But she would get out of this predicament. She could run to another house – no, their doors will be locked… The store would be a better option – more people and working phones. She struggled to push the window out on its hinges. She could hear the footsteps from below getting louder and louder, but they never sped up. Just. Need. To get out. of the house. She thought as she finally swung the window open.
The footsteps never stopped, and the volume grew to a deep beat. And then something was scraping the bathroom door. It sounded horrible – claws on a chalkboard. A brief second later and the hinges were being sawed – she was nearly out of time.
She scrambled to drag herself out the window faster, but the beat was still getting louder. It was getting faster now, too – almost as fast as her heartbeat.
She made it to the roof before the door was thrown in – they must have finally cut through the hinges. She clawed her way to the top of the roof, fiberglass from the shingles rubbing her hands raw and burning her knees. The beat was now indistinguishable from her own heartbeat – it was all she could hear. She felt the house shake. Or was that just her?
Evelyn dragged herself over the ridge and then practically jumped down the other side.
Had the murderer followed her outside? Or did they think that she was gone? Can they hear me running on the roof? Suddenly everything went silent. The beat stopped. She slid down feet first, making it to the edge of the roof before her vision blurred. She made it to the edge and got ready to jump down to the ground. She felt lightheaded, nearly giddy at being so close to victory and escape.
She was just leaning over the edge when something hit the back of her head. She fell into darkness.