A Series of Short stories on my Encounters in Skyrim.
More to come soon, I have plenty more.
Please R and R, it would be much appreciated.
Disclaimer : I own nothing in Elder Scrolls.
Story One
Golumei was in trouble. He was deep in a cave, filled with Forsworn, and was on his last health potion. He adopted a sneakful stance, as he crouched down wooden steps, and hit the ground with satisfying silence. He was always the sneaky type.
He was in close range, looking at a room with narrow corridors and more steps leading to a lower level. Golumei knew he could get through this. He was a born Bosmer assassin, and has been in Skyrim hunting down targets for years. But today, he was given a contract. His objective, was to eliminate a powerful Briar - Heart, before its transformation.
"It." Golumei told himself. His targets were nothing more then a target, a victim needed to be killed. It was to be treated like an animal, and was never, ever, to be given mercy. Stendarr, could complain all he wanted. Golumei pulled over his hood, the one that was with him for years. An old one, that was found in an old forsworn barrow. It was said to be ancient.
He hugged the wall, tightly, as he sighted shadows of Forsworn Soldiers moving not too far away. They muttered something about the Briar-Heart. Golumei didn't hear what. He continued, hugging the wall, easily making it past the Forsworn guards, who he would easily kill after he dealt with the Briar-Heart. He walked down a corridor, followed by the Night Mothers voice, guiding him in the right path. He was the Listener, after all. He was a gifted assassin. He sighted the Briar heart at the end of a corridor, in a tiny room, leaning over a desk, writing something. Golumei heard him blabbering to himself. He took out the Blade of Woe, a deadly dagger. He crouched through the corridor, unable to hide his excitement of piercing the Forsworn's heart. The Briar – Hearts got their names from their hearts being transformed by a series of alchemical experiments, and their heart gradually changed until they adopted the form of a hagraven. Their hearts, would provide good use in a Paralysis potion for Golumei. They always did.
Unable to hide his eagerness, Golumei made a novice mistake. He stepped on a trap stone. It went off, firing darts everywhere in the corridor, and Golumei took one hit in his hip. He wasn't badly injured, his only concern was the Briar – Heart. He was alerted to Golumei's presence. The Briar – heart turned from his desk.
"Who's there?" it shouted. Golumei remained silent, in the cold unforgiving realm of the stone corridor, which was probably 100 feet underground. The dart stuck into him. He was in a lot of pain. But he knew the Forsworn Briar – Heart didn't see him. Golumei was a master in the school of sneak. Golumei's target literally waltzed past him, to Golumei's amusement. Golumei stood, and slit his targets throat in an epic fashion, and proceeded to cut out the valuable Briar-Heart.
He succeded.
He always succeded.
*END*
NOTE : Probably my favourite Skyrim encounter, may not sound fun on paper, but the pure epicness of seeing my character produce a killmove such as slitting the Briar – Hearts throat after literlly walking past me in a metre wide stone corridor was unmatched by any other.
Story Two
Sasha lit her torch in the cold, harsh moonlight of Skyrim. She just crossed the border from Cyrodiil, and she aimed to get away from the mainland of the Great War. But it didn't matter, it was just as dangerous in Skyrim as it was in Cyrodiil. A civil war was raging, and anything and anyone could pop out at anytime wanting to kill you. But she didn't care. She was able for it. At least she thought.
Her Hide armour and her Adept mage hood was completely invisible in this darkness, so she could sneak up on just about anything. The only thing that worried Sasha, was her getting lost. Heck, she was already lost. She was somewhere in the cold mountains of Skyrim, trying to find her way down through a small road that looks like it has been untouched for centuries. All she wanted was to find a small town, where she would begin her life as a sellsword. But that wasn't happening yet. She took out her map, searching for towns and hold capitals that a Imperial Captain pointed out earlier. The nearest one. Helgen. It wasn't too far, all she needed was to keep heading North-West, and she would be fine. She put her map away and re-lit her torch. It looked like this was going to be a long walk.
An hour into the journey, the cold mountain weather began to wear away as she found herself in a Forest tundra type of place. She liked it like this. It reminded her of home. There where tall coniferous trees everywhere, making it a forest. She barely kept track of the tiny road that was supposed to be leading her to Helgen. But she think she went wrong. The last sign for Helgen was ages ago, and besides, Helgen was supposed to be in the mountains. Sasha was going in the opposite direction. She must have missed a turn, she thought to herself.
"Dammit!" She shouted, perhaps too loud. She didn't know weather to keep going or to turn back. But maybe, this was the correct road? Maybe she hadn't missed a turn? She didn't know, but civilisation could never be too far away. She resumed walking along the road, in the same direction. A sign post shouldn't be too far.
Her torch went out, and the darkness consumed her. For the first time, she felt uneasy. Anyone would, she thought, to regain her morale. This is Skyrim, after all. She lit up her hand, it was the only flame spell she new. It provided not even half the light the torch did. She was never the one for magic. It didn't provide much light at all, but it gave her comfort. She kept one hand on her steel axe.
She reached a tiny crossroad, as she noticed the road began to be alot clearer, meaning she had to be near some sort of town. She looked at the signpost.
'Helgen' it said, pointing in the direction where she came from.
'Falkreath' It said, in more clear writing, pointing west, along a clear, possibly major road. She decided to head west.
Five minutes in, and she was getting tired. She wondered what time it was, and if it was nearly morning. It probably was, she thought. She was walking for hours. As she tried to distract herself with thoughts of her home, the province of Valenwood, she could have sworn she heard something to her left. The noise of twigs breaking. She put out her flame spell, not that it was providing much light anyway, and she took out her axe. Perhaps it was just the wind making noise, or it was probably just her mind playing tricks. Thats what her mother used to say when she heard things like that. How she wished it was true right now.
To Sasha's horror, she heard the loudest roar of a bear in her life, and she managed to see the massive thick black sillhouette run at her at top speed.
For one of the first times in her life, Sasha was afraid. She seen her father kill a bear with his fellow hunters, but that was with great difficulty. She doubted she could do it on her own. She turned, ran in the opposite direction of the bear, straight throught the trees. The branches and twigs cut her delicate torso and face as she sprinted at top speed, hearing the horrid heavy thumps of the bear running at her from behind.
"This was it," She thought. The bear was going to catch up to her, and kill her for sure. Crossing the border was probably the worst decision she ever made in her life. It was to be the death of her. She noticed she started running down hill, and it was fairly steep. Perhaps, the bear would pick up to much speed and topple over its own weight? Unlikely, but at least it gave her hope. She could always stand and fight, but the chance was looking less attractive as she imagined what a bear would do charging into a female Bosmer at top speed, down a hill. Maybe, she could sidestep at the last moment? Possibly, but for now, she would keep running. She chanced a desperate look back to see where abouts the bear was. It was behind her, perched on a rock on the hill. It roared at Sasha, infuriated at the difficult terrain it needed to cross in order to get her. Sasha was pleased. The bear had to drop speed, as the slope was filled with trees and rocks the further you went down, and a bear travelling at 40 miles per hour going down a hill would certainly crash to its death. Sasha caught her breath, as she looked in terror at the massive silhouette of the black bear on its hind legs, roaring at her.
After a few minutes of running, and then jogging, the bear was nowhere to be seen. Sasha lost the bear. She couldn't believe it, she just outran a bear. With the help of terrain, of course, she reminded herself. But she survived, that was the main thing. She kept walking, to escape the bear's scent and to find a town in this god forsaken forest. She looked at her map and headed west for Falkreath, with a pleased sigh of triumph.
*END*
NOTE: Another one of my favourite encounters. Me and my cousin were listening to some music when this happened. I was only level 3, and I thought it would be interesting to return to the border to Cyrodiil and then turn back, as if I just entered Skyrim for the first time.
In, truth, I actually knew were I was going the whole time, but I wanted to 'Get lost' to add a lot more entertainment to it, and when me and my cousin were just relaxing, we heard a roar of a bear and we yelled with excitement. We ran away, in the pitch black, brightness turned to the lowest for added darkness. And, eventually got away, and made our way to Falkreath!
Story Three
Golamus vacated the horrible weather and entered the Falkreath inn, hands nimble from the cold. He heated his hands with his flame spell as he approached the counter, ordering a drink and asking for a bed as he ignored the countless nord stares as they realised that he was a mage. But he wasn't a just a mage. He loved to carry around his favoured Nordic steel sword. He drew it as he viewed the countless blood stains on it that hid been dried, and now the sword has changed colour from a stainless steel silver to a cold, dark, dim red. So many meaningless lives he took, he thought. He wondered that if in another life he could have been a farmer, who brought only good to the world. He shook his head in realization. He was a farmer, he thought to himself. A Harvester of Souls.
And the men and women he killed were just weeds to pluck in every field.
He sheathed his blade, noticing a few relieved faces as the blade hit the bottom of the scabbard.
Golamus sighed as the woman pointed at his room, which contained a not-so comfortable bed and a few used mead glasses. Golamus grunted as he handed her the 10 gold and then lay on the bed, getting comfortable by replacing his old metal Iron boots with comfy fur shoes that he took off a dead bandit. He put his Mage hood down and loosened the tightning on his studded armour. This was going to be a restful night, he thought.
He re-entered the bar, gulping down a few glasses of Mead and treating himself to some eye-candy. There was a nice looking nord. Pretty faced, blond hair. He could have been talking to her for hours. He couldn't fathom how long he'd been staring at her, never mind talking to her.
Golamus frowned as the nord man behind the counter called her name.
"Saadia, wake up dear." He said. That was her name.
She nodded and asked Golamus if he wanted another drink, to which Golamus replied with a yes, almost instantly, without hesistation. She walked behind the counter, filling up a mug with nice fresh mead.
The inn door opened.
Golamus followed the actions of everyone in the inn as he turned his head. It was probably another drunk, Golamus thought with a smile. This town was filled with drunks.
But it wasn't a drunk. It was an orc. And a tough orc, at that. Hell, he wasn't tough. He was an animal. He was at least six foot five and he was clad in Iron armour, and weaponry, shield and all.
"You smiling at me?" He growled, in Golamus' direction.
"Speak, dark elf." He continued, rudely.
"Of course I was. Just look at you, you ugly piece of shit." Golamus said, without a hint of fear. Saadia giggled. Just hearing that sent morale soaring through his vains. He kept one hand on his steel dagger behind his back, hidden from view, and another hand on his sword hilt.
"What the hell is a milkdrinker like you doing in an inn? You barely look twelve."
Golamus ignored the meaningless insult thrown at him.
"Back off, now." Golamus growled, even more than the Orc did.
"I don't have to take that from you." The Orc shouted, drawing his sword. The watching audience of the inn gasped in excitement.
Golamus ducked his swing awkwardly, drawing his dagger and slicing the Orcs back. It barely penetrated the armour. Golamus put his dagger back in his scabbard, and drew his sword. He was going to need more power, at the cost of precious speed. But he still had that advantage.
The Orc was big and heavy, and was very unmanouevreable.
"Watch it, he's a mage!" A Nord shouted, somewhere in the inn. He was obviously talking about Golamus. Anything to help a fellow up against a Dark Elf. The Nords hated the Dark Elf's. They always did, and now even more that half of the Elf race fled in refuge to Skyrim, seeking a new home as their previous ones in Morrowind were destroyed by the great volcano, Red Mountain.
"Oh, so your a pretty little spellcaster." The Orc teased.
"Now I'll have even more fun killing you." He continued. Golamus ignored the cheers at the end of the Orc's sentence and lunged in, without warning, forcing the Orc to raise his shield awkwardly. As he raised his shield in defence, Golamus glided to the Orc's left, flanking him unexpectedly as the Orc's view was blocked by his own shield. Golamus was behind him. The Orc then realised what had happened and gasped in fear, and turned around.
But it was too late.
Golamus already lunged for the kill.
A straight stab, piercing the Orcs stomach.
"One Hundred." Golamus muttered under his breath, a few inches away from the Orcs face so he could hear him. His lifeless face was almost level with Golamus, despite being taller.
The Orc choked some blood on Golamus' face as he tried to get a few desperate last breaths in.
The Orc jerked, as Golamus twisted the sword clockwise, still remaining close enough to feel the Orc's last breath.
He pulled his sword out with a hard tug, ignoring the blood that came out with it. It spurted out all over the floor.
And then, the Orc lay dead, face down on the stone floor of the inn.
To Golamus' pleasure, everyone resumed talking, and chatting as if nothing had happened. He turned and in shock, he noticed a guard, in the corner. He thought this was it. He was going to prison for the remainder of days. That is, until he broke out.
"Self-Defence." The guard shouted proudly, so everyone in the inn could hear.
Golamus' smiled dryly as he recognised the Morrowind accent of the Guard and his dark, purple skin.
He walked out, grinning to himself. He was still a free man.
"One hundred men." He thought.
"I've taken the lives of a hunred men." He smiled.
*END*
NOTE:
Another favourite Skyrim encounter. Obviously it wasn't as detailed as that, as all the Orc said was "Whats a milkdrinker like you doing out here?" And then, the conversation lead to a duel and I killed him, without too much difficulty. There was a guard in there at the time, but as the Orc attacked me first, I was a free man. Hope you guys enjoyed!