Skyrim: Legend of the Dovahkiin
Apprehension 2
Some of the people of Whiterun were at their windows, silently watching the unfolding scene play out.
The bandits looked taken aback by the sight of the young warrior who had been reveled to be the companions new Harbinger, their new leader.
"This is him! This is the one who killed our comrades!? This must be some kind of joke!" one of the outlaws cried.
"No way a whelp like him could have outmatched the men at our hold!"
"This little man is the Harbinger of the Companions!? He's just a boy!"
The bandit leader stood silent, wondering if his men were right in assuming the young warrior in front of them was the one behind responsible for the assault on their camp. The boy was a Nord around average height and had a lean yet muscular build, unlike the large, hulking frame of most of his kind. His hair was long and wavy with a light brown color that went down to about the length of his shoulders. He had deep blue eyes and slightly thick stubble of facial hair, but his most distinctive feature was the faint three clawed scar on the left side of his face. Two katanas rested on each of his hips, revealing the boy as a dual wielder. The last thing the chief noticed about the young warrior was the steel armor he sported was in almost flawless condition, like it had never once been struck with anything.
"So," the bandit leader began as he stepped forward. "You are the one responsible for the slaughter of my men?" The Harbinger stood silent, staring into the eyes of the brigand before he answered.
"Yes, but I was merely defending myself."
"Do not take me for a fool!" the brigand growled. "You murdered my men not in self defense, but for your own sick amusement! I will make sure you suffer for your transgressions against me and my comrades!"
The young Harbinger was at a loss for words, this was the first time a group of outlaws had ever returned looking for revenge. He had been in many difficult situations before, most of them matters of life and death, but never anything this… ironic. The bandits of Skyrim were known for being short tempered and merciless in battle; a toxic combination. The Harbinger had seen and experienced first hand how tenacious and brutal bandits were to their potential victims, seen what lengths they would go to get what they desired. He had seen them kill countless innocent people for no reason other than the purpose of sport, watched them torture their victims until they died a slow, miserable death. Yet, here they stood. Twelve bandits of Skyrim, all of them demanding "justice" for the deaths of their comrades, the irony was almost amusing.
"Tell me something, bandit." The Harbinger started. "How do you think the families of the people you murdered feel at this very moment?"
The brigand raised an eyebrow, why did he care what happened to those people? "What about them? Why does it matter how they feel? They can die as well for all I care."
"Yet here you stand, angry, clamoring for 'justice'. Justice of men whom if given the chance, would slaughter every man, woman and child in the city if they could. Men who have no remorse for the crimes they commit against innocent people, men who's purpose in life is to cause as much pain and suffering as possible. You are nothing more than a hypocrite, a fool among men. Leave now, bandits, or else forfeit your worthless lives."
The bandit leaders face had turned a bright shade of red, anger blasting through every vein in his body. "You little whelp!" the brigand suddenly charged, his giant glass sword raised above his head.
"So be it..." the young Nord said as he drew his katanas.
The bandit swung his blade downward, putting all of his might behind the attack. Expecting the attack, the Harbinger raised his left blade, blocked the attack and countered with an upward slash with his free blade, connecting with his opponents forehead. The brigand stumbled backward, clutching the newly inflicted wound, but the young leader of the Companions was far from finished. Taking advantage of his enemy's distraction, the young Warrior delivered a flurry of slashes at his opponent, not meant to kill, but to draw blood, to weaken and tire.
"Ugh! Son of a-" The bandit leader charged yet again, this time swinging horizontally. The Companion leader ducked the blow, rolled behind the brigand and delivered a brutal slash to the mans backside. Howling in pain, the criminal fell on one knee. "D-damn you.."
"Get him!" The Harbinger turned to see the other eleven bandit grunts charging him, a smirk spreading on his lips.
"Aela."
The name had barley passed his lips as a steel arrow flew forward and lodged itself between the eyes of an unfortunate grunt. The man hit the floor with a loud thud, a pool of blood forming soon after.
"For the Companions!" Njada shouted as she charged forward, the other Companions close behind her.
The two groups of warriors charged each other, the sounds of metal meeting metal soon followed. Farkas dashed forward and drove his gigantic blade through an unfortunate marauder. Then lifting the man in the air, slammed him back into the pavement, hard. Sidestepping a bandits sword thrust, Njada cocked back her arm and slammed her shield into the mans throat and finished the attack by driving her blade through his skull. Using her speed to her advantage, Aela maneuvered herself between two of the grunts and planted a skyforge dagger in both of their temples, they convulsed before hitting the floor in a heap. In a show of skill, Ria sidestepped an enemy attack and in one upward motion of her sword, cleaved the mans entire face clean off his skull, his body hitting the floor with a wet thud soon after. The people of Whiterun cheered as the Companions made short work of the criminals until only their leader remained with his life.
The bandit chief, now back on his feet, looked on in shock and disbelief as the last of his men was killed.
"All of your men are dead," The Harbinger said as he approached the bandit leader, his katanas now a crimson color. "you're the only one left…"
The outlaw shot a dark glare at the young warrior, his eyes filled with pure hatred. "This battle is far from over!" the bandit leader slowly rose to his feet. "I still have some fight left!"
"Which I will rectify presently."
The young warrior dashed forward, attacking the outlaw with a skillful flurry of slashes and thrusts. The chief tried desperately to parry the onslaught of attacks, but the sheer power of the blows proved to much for him to handle. The Harbinger's attacks eventually began to crisscross the mans body, blood erupting from each of the strikes as they tore the flesh from his bones. The bandit dropped his weapon and fell to his knees covered in his own blood. The Harbinger stood over his defeated foe, his blades at the mans neck.
"Any last words?"
The outlaw looked up at the young Nord, fear in his eyes, "Please…don't kill me," he pleaded. "Have mercy."
"...Such an insolent phrase."
With one fluid motion, the young warrior separated his blades and decapitated the outlaw, the mans head bounced twice before it ceased to move. The warrior stared at the bandit's corpse a moment before sheathing his blades and turned to the other Companions.
"A good fight, everyone." he said. "Kodlak would be proud."
The other Companions raised their weapons in the air and shouted victory cries. "Don't go soft on us now, Harbinger." Vilkas teased
"Leave him alone Vilkas," Aela said as she slung her bow over her shoulder. "He's earned the right to show a bit of emotion every now and then."
The citizens and guards who had been watching were among the loudest of those that were shouting victory cries. Most warriors let such things go straight to their heads, causing them to become cocky and arrogant, but the Companions harbinger was not such a warrior. In truth, he felt it was his duty to set an example for the companions as well as provide the citizens with a sense of safety and assurance that they could sleep easy knowing that there was someone around who would protect them from harm. Njada had often berated him for thinking in such a way, saying it was the guards who were responsible for such things. That didn't matter, the Harbinger wasn't the sort of person to allow senseless violence and unnecessary cruelty in his presence.
"Come on," the young warrior began as he started for Jorrvaskr, "You guys can celebrate with mead."
"I'm up for that!" Torvar shouted in excitement.
"You're always up to drink, Torvar." Aela counterd.
The warriors laughed and cheered as they returned to their mead hall, their harbinger following behind. A dark shadow was looming over the province of Skyrim and the young warrior was now calling his skill and leadership into question, wondering if it would be enough to conquer the destiny that had been handed to him.
The next day was sure to bring many more challenges his way, and for the first time in his life, the young Nord felt something he thought reserved for only weakest of men: Fear.
A/N: Yeah man, chapter two is UP! First off I would like to say thanks to every one who liked and follow the story, and the one person who commented(you know who you are.) Seconded, the reason for not revealing the Dragonborns name yet is simple: I'm saving it for the final chapter of the second arc, but trust me…you'll be both surprised and impressed with the name I've given him. On a completely different note, Obama got re-elected! Hell yeah! I was a nervous wreck last night what with the elections n all, and I was barley able to think straight, It may show in the writing. Anyway, leave your comments and the helpful criticism, its all appreciated. Thanks, Zero out.