Hello, Boulderstar2000 here and I've got a Skyrim fanfiction for you all today. I've actually had this sitting around in my documents folder forever and just never gotten around to posting it. Well today's your lucky day because I finally have gotten around to it! Welcome tale of Mistwatch Folly (you know, that tiny place north of that big place full of mages).

Enjoy!

The Warrior

Most Skyrim nights were dark and cold, with this one being no different. Astrid stood, well, rather sat, guard outside Mistwatch Outpost. Right in the middle of nowhere, in a province that consisted entirely of "the middle of nowheres," she liked to say. The only thing that ever happened was the occasional bandit gang that passed by; even then they tended to be small and no match for the troops out of Mistwatch, the fort to the south. Heck, they didn't even get to fight the bandits! "Don't leave your post," they said; "Your job is simply to keep watch," they said. At least if she patrolled the town there would be drunken brawls and petty thieves to deal with. Astrid didn't join the Eastmarch guard to sit around all day! A proud Nord like herself deserved glorious combat, not sitting and waiting, reporting to a useless general every week. And so, during the night shift that she so often occupied, Astrid would sit and daydream about something exciting happening. Maybe a few giants or a powerful bandit leader with a bounty on his head would pass by, giving her the perfect chance to prove herself in battle. Rushing in to the rescue, she would amaze her comrades with her skill with sword and shield, defeating all vile enemies that dared cross her path.

She was so caught up in her daydreams that she failed to notice the dark shapes on the horizon, nor did she see the Ice Spike that pierced her heart. Falling from her chair and tumbling to the ground, Astrid had failed in her duties of the night watch, and thus the threat continued, undetected.

The Sentry

Sitting atop the sole tower of Mistwatch Outpost, Darynn shivered in the chill breeze that accompanied most Skyrim nights. Often he marveled at the beauty of such nights, with the stars gleaming in the sky and the mist swirling across the plains. It was very different from his homeland of Morrowind, which even though he was only a child when his family left, he still remembered. He remembered the light from the mountain as it erupted and the running. There was lots of running. Mostly Darynn tried not to think about it; despite living a happy life in the Eastmarch Guard, he still got homesick from time to time. His dream was that he would save up enough money and return to his childhood home, fixing it up and helping to restore Morrowind to its former glory. Who knew, maybe the fires and invaders had left it unscathed, and his work would be lessened. In the meantime, he had left his work at the mill to join up with the local military, getting a post at this small fort right on the edge of the hold. Heck, it could hardly be called a fort with only one tower and a small hall and bunker adjacent to it. Most of the others here complained of the isolation, but honestly Darynn didn't mind it so much. It was a lot like working at the mill, the only difference was the occasional bandits or wolves. Even then, the guards posted at the Outpost never engaged. Life was simple, and sitting each day atop the tower watching for the unusual was not that bad.

Usually Darynn had the day watch, but the person that usually covered the night watch had gotten ill, so he had gotten switched to the night shift temporarily. Something about the other guards' not being able to aim properly in the dark; it didn't really matter to him, but the lateness and lack of sleep was getting to him, and each night it was harder not to drift off. Tonight was no different, with him almost nodding off, then jolting awake as his head hit the back of the chair he sat in. After this happened several times, Darynn thought to himself that maybe it wouldn't matter if he took a short nap. Nothing ever happened, and even if it did, Astrid was stationed out front, so it's not like they'd be defenseless.

Just as he closed his eyes and fell asleep, a silent Ice Spike flew through the air, cleaving his head in two. Thus Darynn had failed in his duties as sentry, allowing the threat to again continue without the knowledge of the fort's inhabitants.

The Coward

Inside the fort, Leo lay in his bed, trying to fall asleep. The darkness of night scared him, but if he lit a torch, he knew for sure the other guards would ridicule him. They knew to some extent of his cowardice, but he preferred they knew as little as possible. The only reason he had joined the Eastmarch guard was to prove to his mother and father that he could be brave. He could be a warrior if he tried. But quite honestly, Leo wasn't sure he could. As a child he always would rather stay inside and practice alchemy than go out with the other boys and play War.

While he waited for sleep to take him, a low rumble rocked the building. In a flash, Leo's comrades were up and running for the entrance. Leo too got up, but it seemed as if his legs refused to obey him. Stumbling, he caught himself on the nightstand and managed to right himself. Standing, he took a deep breath and calmed himself. Now was his chance. He could prove he wasn't a coward and show everyone how wrong they were. Grabbing his trusty steel sword that stood next to his cot, he too raced towards the entrance.

As he got closer to the entrance, the sounds of conflict also got louder. Turning the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks. The entire front of the building had been blown open, with at least five mages clad in black cloaks blasting spells from their palms. All of the courage drained from Leo's veins, seeing the others falling to these assailants. Without even being fully aware, he ran behind the conflict, heading toward the bottom floor of the tower. Turning he barred the door behind him and sat in chair directly across from it. Even if he was a coward, he was going to face his doom head on. His hands shook, from fear or adrenaline he wasn't sure. He stared down at them. How could he have just abandoned his comrades like that? They had needed his help and he fled. Hot tears started to stream down his face. Oh Akatosh, he really was a coward wasn't he?

He stayed like this until the battle ceased outside. The silence was almost more eerie. Then the door exploded, the burning pieces flying past Leo, scorching his arms. He was faced with four tall men and women, all clad in black robes that covered most of their face. Leo didn't move. He stayed in his chair, staring at his hands, armor still smoldering.

"Any last wishes, coward?" The mage in the middle spat.

Leo stayed quiet.

"Very well." Raising his arm, he formed a spear of ice in his hand. In an instant the wickedly beautiful spike protruded from Leo's chest. He had failed in his duties as a guard, and so Mistwatch Outpost had fallen

…

10 years had passed since the attack on Mistwatch Outpost. The mages had moved on to Mistwatch itself, but that was where they were stopped. However, their forces were greatly weakened, and the next day a group of bandits moved in and took the fort. Over the years, different bandits occupied the fort, fighting occasional skirmishes over the years for the position. However, no one ever touched the small outpost to the south. It was now called Mistwatch Folly, and rumors flew from the mouth of every bandit that it was cursed; haunted by the spirits of the guards who had let it fall. And so, both guards and outlaws alike kept their distance.

All, of course, except the Dragonborn.

These stories didn't frighten Analyn whatsoever. At first, they were probably just stories spread by the Eastmarch guard to keep the bandits away from the ruins of the place, in case they wished to rebuild it. Apparently they never did, and the stories spread and faded into truth. No one wanted to check if there really were haunted souls of dead men and women there.

"You don't mean to say you're going to go there do you?" Hadvar exclaimed when Analyn told him of her plan.

"Of course I do! I plan to see if the stories are true or not, and if they are I've fought worse than some ghosts from an age gone by." She replied.

"Well yes but-"

"But nothing! If I can take on Alduin the World-Eater, then I can handle some ghouls. I'm going, and that's final."

Hadvar sighed. Analyn could be so stubborn sometimes. Check that: she was stubborn all the time.

"Fine, but if you're going, then I'm going with you."

"But-"

"I'm going, and that's final." He said, mocking Analyn.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, alright. Just try not to get yourself killed, ok?"

…

The journey from Windhelm to Mistwatch Folly was fairly short, and a day after their departure Analyn and Hadvar stood on a ridge overlooking the decrepit fort.

"We could've gotten here much faster if you didn't need so much food and rest."Analyn remarked.

"Oh shut up. Don't act like your need to stop and pick every single plant we see didn't slow us down."

Analyn huffed and started down the slope. Rolling his eyes, Hadvar followed.

…

As they approached, a dragon's roar echoed in the distance.

Hadvar stopped walking and frantically searched the skies.

"It's fine, there's a Dragon Lair somewhat nearby, but I doubt we're close enough to bother it."

"If you say so," Hadvar said. Still tensed, he started to follow Analyn again.

…

"I told you it was just an old wives' tale," Analyn said, facing Hadvar. "There's nothing here."

"Well-" Analyn slammed her hand over his mouth. Hadvar got quiet and looked at Anayln quizzically. He knew she had to have a reason, and then he heard it. The creak of old bones.

"You hear it?" She whispered. Hadvar nodded. Releasing him, she drew her wickedly sharp Daedric blade and readied a fireball. Following suit he drew his steel Imperial blade and stood at Analyn's back. An arrow flew from somewhere above them, hitting Analyn's Daedric armor and bouncing off.

She laughed, "That all you got?"

Turning to face where the arrow came from, she loosed her fireball, sending fire and bones flying.

"Behind you!" Hadvar yelled as a skeleton armed with an ancient Nord sword approached her backside.

"You, too!" She called as she stabbed the skeleton through the torso, causing it to clatter to the ground.

Turning, Hadvar saw another skeleton with a sword coming toward him. Running at it, he brought his blade down with all the force he could muster, causing the creature to explode in a shower of bone shards.

"See? It wasn't that bad." Analyn shrugged. "But I guess the stories are true, huh? I guess I'm not that surprised; stuff like this happens all the time here in Skyrim."

"Hey, I'm sure there's stuff like this in Black Marsh too."

"Well maybe there is, but that's an adventure for another time. I'm still busy trying to see all there is to see in Skyrim!" Laughing, she started to search the piles of bones.

"I almost feel bad for them, being cursed with undeath for their treachery and all that."

"Well there's not really a whole lot we can do without knowing what sort of curse," Analyn replied, finishing up searching the last one.

"I guess so."

"Now why don't we head back to Windhelm and celebrate our victory with an ale or two?" the Argonian said, turning to head north.

Hadvar gave one last, long look towards the ruins. "Sounds good, but knowing you it'll be more like an ale or five."

Analyn snorted. "Sanguine doesn't give his Rose to just anyone you know!"

Laughing, the duo walked off towards Windhelm, leaving Mistwatch Folly, and its story, behind.

So what'd ya think? I always thought the place was pretty interesting, so I decided to give it a little backstory.

Also, I apologize for not updating Five Nights at Baker Streeet, I've had a lot on my plate lately. I promise I'm working on it, and hopefully it'll be out soon!

If you wanna read some more stuff I wrote, go ahead and check my other stories out!