A/N: This is mordern day Skyrim to be clear. I couldn't stop thinking about this, so I had to put it up. I have no clue where it is going, but enjoy and Read and Review!
~8~8~
Prologue
(12 years earlier)
A myriad of blue swirling lights on the top of white police cruisers swirled lazily in the quaint cul-de-sac nested by the cliffs on the edge of the Whiterun city limits. The lights casts ominous glows around the perfectly manicured homes that remained closed and silent as if a crime had not desecrated their perfect little world. However, every once and a while, a curtain would be peeled back and a snooping neighbor would take a quick peep before ducking back to tell their excited families what was transpiring in the little home at the corner of the circular lane.
Kragah Bloodfist grimaced as he stepped out of his sleek white and gold police cruiser. He was a tall muscled orc, in his usual crisp ironed gray and blue uniform of the Empire Whiterun police. Nothing was out of order in his uniform, from the perfectly placed cap to the shine of his boots that glinted little flecks of the street lights.
The orc stretched his stiff bulk from being in the cruiser so long while looking at the tranquil night sky sprawling with glimmering diamond stars. He sipped a Styrofoam cup of hot coffee laced with huge amounts of moon sugar appreciatively as he gazed calmly at the velvet black sky. You could never see many stars in Whiterun city, the glows coming up from the busy town always made it near impossible. Sometimes he wished he could move his clan out to a little place like this, away from the noise and troubles of the bustling metropolis.
The slam of a door, made the orc jerk around a hand going instinctively for his expertly cared for sword. A wreath was moving slowly on a door telling the tale of a one to curious neighbor taking a closer peek than sticking a nose through their drapes.
Shrugging his nerves away the Orsimer grunted once, disdainfully before draining the rest of his coffee and placing the warm cup on the side walk as he made his way to a concrete path that was lined with pink and blue daffodils.
"Nosey busybodies." He grumbled about the neighbors while nearing the bright yellow taped door of the house under investigation.
A few more police, one Nord, one Khajit were standing anxiously by the door, their fingers rapping against the hilts of their blades as Kragah approached; their uniforms a tad crumpled, their forehead dabbed with sticky slick sweat.
"Captain." They both uttered simultaneously offering quick salutes.
Kragah nodded officiously to the pair. "Gentlemen." He replied before ducking under the bright police tape.
His sharp eyes instantly assessed the situation of the home. The oaken door had been kicked in nearly off its hinges barely hanging by the top, the black stains of a boot coated with mud still imprinted on the door. Those same black muddy prints were traipsing through the wood floor leading in a slew of direction but an ominous pair that was sloshed up a set of carpeted stairs seemed to stand out. From the stairs the prints began to smear and mingle with bright streaks of crimson. Kragah followed the path intently as more pools of blood began to appear, blotching the gaily wallpapered walls and plush carpeted floor.
The trail ended at the back of the second floor, leading to a bed room, a lamp on the floor, its shade gone providing an eerie light to the scene. The orcs grimace deepened as he marched into the room. Two Nords a male and female both with long golden tresses lay face down on the master bedroom floor still in their pajamas.
Thick puddles of blood welled under them, the male still holding a long bronzed war sword in his death grip. Kragah could still see the leather sheath half out from under the bed where the Nord had pulled out his blade. The orc knelt beside the murdered bodies almost reverently as he inspected them with out touching the pale bloody corpses. They had both been stabbed multiple times to the chest and neck almost severing their heads. Offering a slight prayer to his patron Daedra he shook his head pityingly.
"Any idea what happened here?" He asked the two officers who had trailed behind him dutifully.
"Forsworn attack gone wrong, captain." The Khajit informed him. His accent was still thick as when he had probably come to Skyrim but it wasn't too difficult to understand. He still had his pen and pad out, fingering them nervously now in the presence of the two bodies. "A man walking his dog claimed to see a few of the fiends take off into the mountains. They took all the valuables they could lay finger to. The Nords probably put up a fight."
Kragah grunted as he raised tiredly, his back pounding in a dull ache. "You're probably right, though Forsworn rarely prey this far out. That damned gang usually heists the small counties, or stays in the city." His voice was laced with dubiousness however as he began his intent scan of the master bed room.
The master bed was a mess, the blanket half dropping on the floor, items smashed and valuables taken in a rush. On a small night stand that had been jerked open and thoroughly rummaged through, a silver picture frame lay faced down. The orc picked it up gently, turning it to see the man and the woman, smiling, their blue eyes twinkling merrily. In the middle a small girl held both their hand grinning happily alongside her parents.
A knot formed the Kragah's gut with a sharp pain as if he had been punched.
"They had a child." He growled as if accusing the pair of officers for forgetting to mention such facts. He had five children of his own, one for every wife he had.
Behind him he could hear the Nord officer mumble a low curse and the Khajit to stutter nervously. "Sorry captain, in all the excitement it slipped our-."
"That is no excuse!" He snarled to the Khajit as he turned on his heel. His black eyes narrowed and looked as if the Daedra himself possessed him as he marched face to face to the wary Khajit. "A child lost her parents this night, and no one has the mind to remember her?"
The Khajit stuttered, his mouth moving but no words escaping. He seemed at a loss, frightened. Reigning in his temper Kragah placed a hand on the feline shoulder in understanding; he sounded a trifle less intimidating. "You're shaken up by this, probably first time am I right?"
The Khajit nodded dumbly, licking his lips nervously.
Sighing the orc nodded. "Finish up here, then head to a tavern and order some strong mead. Work off the nerves, find a woman, play some cards, you'll get used to stuff like this now in the Imperial police force."
"Thank you, captain." The feline stammered, before offering a wavering salute. "The child is in her bed room waiting for social services to pick her up. She'll probably be headed to Riften orphanage by tomorrow morning."
Uttering quick thanks and ordering the Nord officer to make another thorough investigation of the room, the orc stomped out of the grizzly scene to come to another room where pictures of butterflies were colored on the door.
Taking a deep breath he stepped inside bracing for the shrieking wails that always came. A small Nord girl was sitting on the edge of her bed, her feet kicking back and forth rhythmically, her arms clutching a plush Saber cat toy so hard she might have squeezed the stuffing out. A blanket was wrapped around her, with a female Redguard officer kneeling by her side speaking in hushed comforting tones.
The captain coughed awkwardly making the two look up to him. With a slight jerk of his head to the door in a silent command to the Redguard who stood up and walked towards him. She sighed before handing him a slip of yellow pad paper, her mouth etched in a sorrowful frown. "Her name is Tess." She whispered then headed away leaving girl and orc alone.
She couldn't have been more than four, five at the most, but her eyes were alert and in full awareness, not like some he had seen who kept asking and crying for their parents, not comprehending they had gone from Skyrim. Kragah strode over cautiously to the girl with tear stains brooked down her face. He sat on the bed next to her, running a hand over his bald head.
With a sigh he hunched over, his elbows on his knees as he looked at the pink carpeted floor. "Your parents are dead, Tess." He stated simply. "Do you understand this?"
The young girl sniffed once before running the back of her hand across her red nose then nodded.
"Did you see who did this deed?" Kragah asked mildly.
She blinked twice holding back more tears then swallowed hard. "They came into my room, and saw me. Then they turned away. I heard mama scream then papa yell then they ran away."
The orcs brows furrowed in confusion, they had seen her? He had assumed she might have hid saving her from the massacre, but the way she told it, it was as if she had been right in bed watching as they burst in. Alarm bells went up, that wasn't how Forsworn worked, they were ruthless; not even children were spared their barbarity.
"What did they look like?" He inquired arching his thick brow.
She tiny girl held her hands out wide. "Wide like daddy, and tall like him to."
That made no sense either, Forsworn weren't known to be broad or tall, but thin and wiry like rats so they could slink away back into their dens. As he was pondering the new evidence, he suddenly felt tiny fist clutch on to his uniform, he could feel wet tears dampening the dark blue fabric. "You won't let them hurt me, mister orc, will you?" She whimpered.
For a no nonsense orc captain who had seen things that would make a stomach hurl a hundred times over, the cries of the tiny Nord pierced his heart. Awkwardly he patted her shoulder like he would do an officer who was in shock, his wives were better at things like this than he. "Not while I'm around." He promised. "The bad men won't hurt you."
"You won't let the people take me to a new city will you?" She asked even more fearful than before. Kragah's heart sank into a deep pit, he wanted to tell her that he had no choice in the matter, that she might enjoy her new life in the overcrowded orphanage where all misbegotten children of Skyrim were dumped, leaving the only home she had ever known, but he found he could not.
It wasn't like this was his first time dealing with children newly orphaned; he had gone through the motions so many times he could probably do it in his sleep. He could probably recite the form from memory. Yet she, Tess, was different, she was strong even afraid, a saddened heart but masking it. By some press upon his soul, he found that he could not allow this child to be stowed away to the Riften orphanage until 18 when they were thrown out into the hard wide world.
~8~8~
In the bustling city of Whiterun the small Night stead apartment complex stirred with the Bloodfist clan family. It was small only because Kragah Bloodfist had only taken five wives presently. Most apartment complexes were vast orc homes that housed many wives and children.
The five wives sat in a brightly lit kitchen of the main apartment, the swinging light overhead buzzing as small moths smacked into it obliviously making small annoying clinking noises. They always congregated here when Kragah was on a nightshift, worry running through their minds their steaming mugs of hot coffee passing numbly one after another as they made whispering small talk to combat the fear. Was he dead by some thieves' dagger or injured by some spell lying in a gutter helpless?
The front door buzzed open then slammed shut with a loud bang making all the wives heads jerk up and stifle cries of relief. Kragah stomped into the kitchen looking determined and tired as he slipped off his heavy uniform jacket throwing it on an empty chair. The five could not have been anymore surprised to see him carrying a sleeping Nord girl in his arms; her head resting on his shoulder drool dribbling out her mouth.
"Husband, what is that?" His first wife, Trulka, pointed to the girl as if she had never seen a Nord in her life.
Kragah sighed as he slid down into a chair exhausted. He rubbed his sweaty neck with his free hand nervously. After seven cups of coffee at the precinct, and a fervent prayer to his Daedra deity, he still was barely finding enough courage to break it to his auspiciously glaring wives. "After the paper work goes through the new edition to our family…"
