Hello Angel here and congrads on clicking on my first "Elder Scroll 5: Skyrim" fan fiction. I have had this idea for a few months since I played my 'Sell Sword' Redguard account and decided, "why not? Let's write a Skyrim fanfic since I like this game so much"
First a few times:
1: This takes place about 20 or so years after the Dragonborn defeats Alduin. I will try to keep this story neutral when it comes to the Civil War as I agree with both sides but I also disagree with their tactics for bringing peace to Skyrim. However there will be references to the Civil War and the views of both the Stormcloaks and the Imperials. Please respect that, thank you.
2: There are three OC's in here: The Dragonborn and the two adventures.
3: There will be violence, death, hatred, racism (very small amount I am hoping to type, no need to increase the amount of hate out there) and all the jazz that makes up Skyrim. So this is rated T until further notice. It may or may not change, that depends of future chapters.
I DO NOT OWN THE ELDER SCROLLS OR SKYRIM, THAT BELONGS TO Bethesda Game Studios/ Bethesda Softworks. THE ONLY THING I OWN, in a way, ARE THE TWO ADVENTURERS OC'S AND THE PLOT FOR THIS FIC.
THIS IS UNOFFICIALLY BETA-ED BY THE WONDERFUL "skyflower51" WHO'S FIC, "Night Eye" INSPIRED THIS FIC. MANY THANKS TO HER!
ENJOY!
The rain fell softly on the hooded figure as he rode steadily on the horse down the cobbled path, his eyes never straying from the stones in front of him. Though it wasn't raining hard and there was no wind, the rain still steep into the heavy cloak and clothing he was wearing, chilling him and his horse almost to the bone.
The man grunted as he pulled on the reins and the horse stopped as he took a look around. The rain was a true nuisance; the steady rain over the past few days he had been travelling along this divine forsaken path had made everything wet and slippery, and the gathering mist was not helping either.
The horse beneath shuddered as it let out a cough-like sound, and was rewarded by his rider with a swift blow to its neck. It let out a small cry in pain as it set off again and his rider grumbled. Stupid animal, it wasn't worth the small fortune he invested in it back at the stables. The sooner it died, the sooner he would have a decent meal out of it. And using some pieces as bait to draw some the carnivores that prowled the land for their pelts would be a nice bonus as well.
As they continued to trudge along the slick cobbled path, the rider's thoughts turned back to the letters that he had received over the course of the few months since the Dragonborn had disappeared. Dragonborn, Dovahkiin, the word caused hate to burn inside him like a nasty poison. That hero had caused him great misfortunate and great losses but hopefully that would change when he was to meet his new partner.
The letters….they had just appeared one day on his doorstep after word had gotten out that the Dragonborn was nowhere to be found, not in any inn or any of the properties that she had owned throughout the holds. The letters had been simple in the beginning; a simple 'hello' and asking him how was business was since the Dragonborn had gotten involved in everything that he hold dear to his coin purse. He had simply burned them but they continued to arrive until he finally replied in a drunken rage and his reply back wasn't anything he had expected.
The letters after that talked about how there were others like him, men and woman who truly saw what the Dovahkiin was; a past-due hero that was too much involved in politics and the health of the holds. How people were pushed to the side in favour of the Dragonborn's thoughts and words of wisdom. What did someone who fought for a living know about what was right for the citizens of Skyrim?
Interested, he replied saying how the Dragonborn had disturbed many of his….'underhanded' deals that had helped his good home and how he was cast as the villain while that stupid woman was revered as a hero of the people. His mysterious sender's reply was how he could make a great fortune if he was joined forces with him and his 'organization', and not only that, but his reputation would be repaired and he would be idolized even greater than the Dragonborn.
This interested him greatly but he could smell a bad deal a mile away and demanded that before he made any decisions, they were to meet face to face and he was to know what the plan was that would make him as great and powerful as his mysterious sender said he would.
No word came after that for a few weeks and he thought that whoever had sent him the letters had realized he was caught and had decided to try and fool someone else. What he didn't expected was to have a large crate, filled with supplies that one would use on long journeys to appear on his doorstep with a simple letter that said to meet him in some distance tomb , far from any town in the farthest corner of Skyrim.
And yet, here he was: on a horse that was better much half dead to him on a path that could take him and his beast into the swelling river on his right, in the middle of nowhere with only the thoughts of heavy coin purses and being idolized like one of the great Nine Divines to keep him warm.
The cobbled path suddenly forked, one going straight and one disappearing into the thickening forest to his left. Remembering the map that was at the inn where he had last stopped, he took the left path and was rewarded with some relief as the trees shielded him from the rain. Continuing down the path, he came to a large tomb, old and falling apart but the place where everything would either be worth it or a total waste of time.
The steps leading into the tomb were cracked and crumbling. The trees that were growing around the tomb plus all the weeds and vines that were crowded the entrance made it look like the gaping mouth and stringy hair of a hagraven.
Getting off his horse, he tied it to a tree that was nearby the entrance and carefully walked up the stairs, anticipation and some fear gnawing at his stomach like skeevers on old bones. Pushing on the doors that creaked and groaned loudly their protest as he entered the tomb, the stale and musty air of death and dust greeted him and nothing else.
"Hello?" he called, his voice echoing in the unnatural silence of the tomb, "I received your letter, and I am here. I am alone and I made sure I wasn't followed, just like you specified. Where are you and your so called 'organization'?"
There was no replied and he could feel his patience run out, he had been had after all. This was some stunt at his expense of being a 'victim' in the Dragonborn's crusade for justice and equality.
"You useless son of a diseased maiden from Riften!" he yelled. He knew that his insult was childish but it was the best he could think of with the cold and exhaustion beginning to take its effect on him. "If I ever find you, I'll turn you in meat pudding and feed you to skeevers while you're still somehow alive!"
He turned around fuming with rage and, almost literally, jumped out of his cloak. There standing right behind him was a hooded figure, dressed in all black with some kind of mask over part of the face that he could see that wasn't covered by the hood.
"A-are you the one who sent me the letters?" he stammered, his teeth beginning to chatter. Whether it was from the cold or fear, he didn't know. The figure didn't reply but only pointed to the amulet that hung around his neck.
"I-I can't see it, it's too dark," he said and just as the words were out of his mouth, a flame flared up on his right and he couldn't help but cower, thinking that he had somehow angered his host and that he was to be burnt to death. When he didn't feel any pain, he uncovered his eyes and saw that the cloaked and robed figure had just lit a torch, how he did it so suddenly and silently he didn't know.
Keeping a warring eye on him…or her or whoever was holding the torch, he took a glance at the amulet. The symbols on the amulet where exactly the same as the symbol that had been on the letters and the wax seal. So this was the same person who had sent him the letters….or someone who was part of his organization.
"I see, so you are the one who sent me the letter, or part of his little 'organization'. What is with all the cloak and dagger? Who are you scared of that you do all of this?' he asked, his fear going away as his rude arrogance took his place. The figure said nothing, only closing the tomb door and stepping around him and making his way towards the doorway that lead deeper into the tomb.
"Hey! I am talking to you!" he called after the retreating figure but when he or she didn't reply or even turn around, he let out a hiss in anger but decided that he would follow. Taking up a slight jog until he caught up with the figure, he looked around the tomb as they made their way deeper and deeper in. The wall had carvings of what looked like old Nord battles against creatures such as trolls and huge sabre cats. But the further they went in, the stranger the walls seem to become.
The color of the walls changed from gray and smooth with carvings to brown and rugged, as if the old Nords who made the tomb got lazy and decided that it was too much work to continue making the tomb a shrine to their fallen comrades. His companion in front of him suddenly stopped and he couldn't help but run into him/her. Peering past the stranger, he saw that they had come to a door. The figure raised his hand, and he saw that it was also covered in fabric, meaning he was wearing gloves. He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, they were going all out on the cloak and dagger weren't they?
The figure knocked on the door three times, the sound echoing in the tomb. There seemed to be some kind of shuffling behind the door as it opened, leading into an inky blackness. The figure didn't hesitate to put out the torch and step into the room and he bumbling followed, as he had no idea what was ahead.
Suddenly, it seemed that light exploded around him, causing him to shield his eyes and stumble as he fell to the ground. Quickly blinking his eyes, he stood up and looked around him. There were more figures wearing robes and cloaks, all of them wearing masks and amulets with the same markings on them.
"Welcome friend" said a voice that seemed to boom throughout the room and he turned and saw a man sitting poised in an almost regal manner upon a large, throne-like stone seat. "I am glad you have made your way here. I hope your journey hasn't exhausted you?"
"You think? You think?! I have ridden in rain that has made the paths mud and made the river swell like it was drunk! I am tired and hungry and I have wasted a small fortune on a useless beast to travel here to meet some crack pot and his little 'organization' that is scared of some stupid guards from a disease ridden hold that will only place a fine on them! And you have the balls to say that you 'are glad' and 'hope that my journey hasn't exhausted' me!?" he roared, his lack of sleep and answers plus the cold that was now seeping into his bones was finally making him lose control.
The figures around the room shuffled and hissed at him and but he ignored them; glaring at their leader with all the hate he could muster. The man laughed and jumped off his chair and strolled up to him like he was an old friend and clapped his hands on his shoulders in a joyful manner. The man, he could see now, was actually a Nord of a decent age, around his 40s or a bit younger, with thick brown curly hair and beard. His black eyes seem to dance and his white teeth against his sun kissed skin made for an odd comparison as he laugh in a way that seemed to rattle his wearing bones and said, "I am glad to hear that. It means that I wasn't wrong about you. I can see that we will have a good partnership together"
"I…what?" The Nord's words were lost on him as he let himself be turned and started to walk with the strange Nord towards a door. The Nord (who he decided to call "Alftand") just continued to smile and pushed open the door and all but practically pushed him in and closed the door with great force, causing it to rattle in its frame.
"I don't understand what…" he started but all words were lost on him when he saw what was in the middle of this new room. His jaw went slack at the sight before him. Never, in all of his years, had he ever seen such a sight. It was both so grotesque that he almost lost his meagre meal that he had had hours before but it was also so beautiful and breath taking that he felt like weeping and dancing for joy.
"This! This is what my organization has been trying to accomplish since the Dragonborn has disappeared" Alftand hissed, the strange and happy man was gone, all what was left was this dangerously venomous and possibly insane one. "This is what my life has been about. But I cannot do it alone; I need funding, I need connections, I need cover-ups to insure that no one knows what I have planned for all of Skyrim, and then all of Tamriel. This is why I have been scouting out possible partners, I need my partners help for my part but I know that when is said and done, I will need my partners by my side when the great battle arises. So tell me, are you in…or out?"
He swallowed and swallowed again. He could feel Alftand's eyes burning into him like a branding mark and he finally choked out, "I am with you. Where do I sign?"
The Nord smiled as he clapped his hands on the shoulders of the still extremely shocked man and turned to look at the scene in the center of the room and said in a low and dark voice, "No need for contracts my dear partner, all will be given their rightful reward when the time comes."
AND THERE WE GO, FIRST CHAPTER DONE, EDITING AND REVISED WITHIN 4 DAYS. I SAY THAT'S A NEW RECORD FOR ME!
I HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT AND THAT YOU WILL DROP A FAV AND A REVIEW. IF YOU DON'T, THE FROSTBITE SPIDERS MIGHT GET YOU!
Edit 03/07/2014-I have just changed some small errors but if you see some misspelled words or grammar, let me know. Thank-you.