Chapter 2: Hawke's Path
Hawke felt his head throb... as if his heart had moved to his head and it was beating. It caused him to groan... He was having one hell of a Hangover... He wondered how much He and Fenris had drank at the hanged man the night before when he began to get awareness of his surroundings.
He smelt plant life... dirt... the smell of dirty horses...He felt he was sitting up.. on wood.. He felt he was wearing cloth, a thin layer of it too. He didn't feel any shoes on his feet.. but he did feel wood under his toes.
It was slightly cool outside... It gave him goosebumps every time the wind picked up.
He finally began to open his eyes as he heard someone talk.
"Hey... Hey" He heard a voice call to him. The voice was male, with a rough accent.
"Ugh..." Was all Hawke could pull out, the sun was bothering his eyes for the moment.
After a few minutes of adjusting his eyes, Hawke saw a blonde man sitting across from him, wearing silver armor with blue cloth. He was fair skinned and his hair hung down to his shoulders.
"Good, you are awake" The blonde looked over to him. Hawke realized he was in a cart, made of wood, sitting with three other men. The blonde one was sitting in front of Hawke.
"You were trying to cross the boarder right? You got caught in that imperial ambush, same as us and that thief over there" The man nudged his chin next to him, to a brunette man in similar cloth clothing as Hawke.
'How much did I drink last night?' Hawke asked himself as the thief began his spill about 'you stormcloaks' were the ones the Empire wants.
'Empire... the Imperium? What do they have to do with this?... shit... Fenris probably did something... Where is He? Where is everyone?' Hawke began to look around outside of the cart. He saw trees, a pathway, another cart pulled by a horse.
People on horses with red armor.
'I don't see them anywhere' Hawke felt his chest tighten as he looked to the blonde man. "Where are we?" he asked.
The blond man cheered, "The dead man speaks!.. to be frank, I don't know where we are going.. but I know sovngarde awaits us" the blonde man saddened.
Hawke stared confused at the blonde. "..sovngarde?" He asked absent-minded.
The blonde smirked a bit at Hawke, "I wouldn't expect an Imperial like you to know about Sovngarde, the home for the nord dead"
Hawke blinked a few times before realizing that they were riding into a town.
Hawke began to ignore the town and looked towards The blonde, "So if there is Sovngarde, where is here?" he asked, restating the question.
The blonde finally shook his head, "How much have you drank? You must be some sort of Milk drinker-"
Suddenly the thief began to spout off names loudly.
"Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh, Divines... Please help me" He was practically crying.
The blonde shook his head to that and looked Around at the town they entered. "This is Helgen... Used to be sweet on a girl from here" he commented softly.
"And where is Helgen?" Hawke asked again, getting on the Blonde's nerves.
The blonde Glared at him, not answering this time.
Hawke realized that he over stepped his boundaries and sat back up, shutting his mouth. He felt like he was being glared at and when he looked over to the man in nicer clothing next to him, he figured out why. This blonde man in nice clothing was glaring at him... or staring at him, Hawke couldn't figure it out.
The carts pulled to a halt and shook the four of them around a bit.
The Thief began to cry and beg for the men in red and silver armor to stop, to let him go. Hawke simply watched, feeling like he was an observer in his own body. The four climbed out of the cart and on to the dirt of this little town.
Hawke began to hear the red armored man in front of them spout off names.. the first was Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak.
"It has been an honor... Jarl Ulfric..." The blonde next to Hawke spoke sadly and softly, watching what Hawke assumed was their leader walk away towards a man wearing black with a giant axe in his hands.
"Ralof of Riverwood" Another name was called, and the Blonde next to him walked away.
Hawke saw that the Blonde gave him one last, hurtful look to the Champion before walking away.
"Lokir of Rorikstead"
The thief then cried out, "NO! YOU CAN'T DO THIS" and took off into a run.
Hawke shook his head as a few arrows pierced the thief's body.
"You there" The man in red got Hawke's attention, "Step forward"
Hawke felt his pride swell in him and he smirked as he walked up to the man. He stood a foot taller than most of these people here.
"Who are you?" He was asked.
"I am Garret Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall." He told him, smirking towards the red wearing soldier.
The man tilted his head in confusion, "Kirkwall?"
Hawke huffed, "In The Free Marches" He felt like he was getting no where.
The man didn't know what to say or do, Hawke thought he got to him.
"What is going on over here?" A woman in silver armor pushed the others away, "What's the hold up?"
"This man claims to be from Kirkwall... in the Free marches?" The red wearing man explained, sort of confused.
"Then he is obviously mad" The woman in silver armor told him, "He gets the block"
"By your order captain" the man in red nodded and pushed Hawke, by his shoulder and back, towards the others.
Hawke was going to be outspoken, but then reminded himself of the thief... He shut his mouth and followed the others quietly.
He didn't hear what was said, He felt utterly helpless... it was a new feeling for him. To not have his team around or his armor or weapons. To not have the choice to fight these blighters if they pissed him off.
"The renegade from Cyrodill" The lady in silver armor called out.
Hawke looked up, in a sort of Haze, realizing that this could be the end of the Champion...
He shut his eyes as he was pushed forward towards the block, He was praying to the Maker that this was all a bad dream.
He felt them push him towards the ground, getting on his knees and pushing him towards the block... His head rested on the wood and he shut his eyes tightly. He thought of his family, his brother and sister, of his mother and father. Of his friends...
Just then a loud, blood curdling roar sounded and everyone turned their heads to the skies, seeing a Black Dragon with pointed scales land above them on a tower and roar once more, causing the skies to go black.
Hawke lands on the ground, off of the Dragon's head and on to his own feet. The blood of the dragon covered his twin daggers and he slides them into their leather sheaths on his belt. His dark brown leather armor is covered in Dragon Blood... and other creatures blood he was sure... When was the last time he washed his armor? He shook out his hair, his hood falling off when done.
Hawke suddenly feels the glowing energy from the Dragon absorb into his body, He feels the Dragon make room in his mind for itself.. as if it were a book on an empty shelf. Not that it was alone mind you. There were a few other books on this ominous shelf.
As Hawke relaxes and the last of the Dragon's soul is absorbed into him, he hears the woman that followed him speak up.
"So.. it is true.. the Dragonborn has returned..." she trailed, seemingly impressed. She was blond and a bit stout for a human. "I will answer any questions you might have"
Hawke huffed, "Finally" he turned to her and walked over to her, "Who are you and what do you want with me?"
The woman stiffened and became serious. "I am Delphine, and I am one of the last members of the Blades"
Hawke tilted his head, rather confused. She sounded like He was supposed to know who that was.
"Thank you, for saving Kinsgrove. It would have ended up like the western watch tower 7 months ago.." she saddened and then looked up to Hawke, "You have to help us.. you are the only one who can kill those dragons for good"
"I... have been watching you... for some time, Mortal..."
"Then you know I am not from here" Hawke implored from the creature he was talking to.
He was standing outside in the frozen cold, just under him was the sea of ghosts, frozen over. In his hands, an unusual apparatus to extract blood from dead elves.
Hawke had been on one quest after another, to fight off this black dragon, whose named he learned was Alduin. His quests had lead him here, to search for an Elder scroll, It must have been a fancy scroll if Hawke was searching for it.
But now a floating mass of greenish tentacles with multiple eyes, and a single, large eye showing where the head of this creature was. They were floating about, seemingly unpredictable in their movement. The large eye in the center had a pupil that was a sideways number 8.
"No... you are not, Garret Hawke" The giant eye blinked slowly, speaking lowly and drawn-out.
"Andraste tits! How do you know my name?!" Hawke exclaimed, pointing angrily at the mass of gross tentacles.
"I am Hermaeus Mora." the eye and tentacles speak again, much more drawn-out than before. "I am the guardian of the unseen, know-"
"I heard you the first time!" interrupts Hawke, waving his arms frenziedly at the speaking eye. "What I mean is, -how- do you know."
"I... know... things... that... are... unknown."
Hawke blankly stared at Hermaeus Mora for a good solid thirty seconds before the lantern above his head is lit by his brain realizing what the daemon was talking about.
"Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooohhhhh."
Hermaeus Mora stares at Hawke for a moment, then continues with his scheme. "Your continuing aid to Septimus renders him increasingly obsolete. He has served me well, but his time is nearing its end." Hermaeus' eye moves from Hawke and into the general direction of Septimus Sigmus and the giant dewmer box. "Once that infernal lockbox is opened, he will have exhausted his usefulness to me."
Hawke glances over at the same direction, then looks back at the massive eye, leery of its intentions.
"When that time comes, you shall take his place as my... emissary." Hermaeus looks back at Hawke, almost eager, "What say you?"
Hawke takes another look at the entrance to Septimus' hideout from their spot, then looks away, seeming to be weighing the options in his mind. On one hand, he could take Hermaeus' offer and not think back twice, while on the other hand he could attempt to refuse the daemon's offer and try outlast him. But there was a third option that Hawke thought Hermaeus Mora didn't account for. "What if... I struck a deal with you?" Hawke proposes, as he begins to pace a short distances around Hermaeus Mora.
"You plan to make a compromise? You are smarter than you think, Garret. In helping me, I shall assist you in finding... your companions and a way back to... Thedas." Hermaeus Mora watches Hawke closely as Hawke paces around and then stops to his original spot at the beginning of the conversation.
"Work for me!" Hawke give a thumbs-up to Hermaeus Mora, somewhat pleased with the compromise.
Hermaeus Mora turns away from Hawke and a light glow appears, which drops five dead bodies onto the cold hard ice in front of him out of nowhere. "These are the five bloods that you'll need to open that dwemer lockbox for Septimus. After which, I will lead you to your companions."
Hawke looks distasteful at the carcasses, then looks back at Hermaeus Mora. "Alright. I better not regret this." Hermaeus Mora then backs off slowly vanishes withing his portal.
The year is 4E 204, three years since Hawke has entered this realm, and one year since meeting Hermaeus Mora. He still hasn't found any of his friends, even Verric is a hard one to find for once! Hawke believes that Hermaeus Mora did not keep true to their agreement, yet still goes on. From Hawke's point of view, he is on the top of the Throat of the World, face to face with Paarthurnax and the Dragonborn's sworn enemy, Alduin. As Hawke reads from the Elder Scroll he acquired from Tower of Mzark, now sealing the "time-wound" as Paarthurnax calls it, he sees Alduin hovering nearby, ready to strike.
Paarthurnax then takes flight and goes to hold off Alduin to give the Dragonbron time to learn the shout Dragonrend from those in the vision from within the Elder Scroll. Paarthurnax intercepts Alduin as he launches a flurry of fire toward the top of the mountain, just making it in time to take the fiery blow for Hawke has he finishes the vision.
Hawke drops to his knees in the snow, drained by the immense power from the Scroll, the Elder Scroll landing, closing, and rolling not to far from Hawke. Hawke looks up at where he last saw Paarthurnax on his perch, his sight slightly dimmed as he tries to remain conscious after the reading. Out from the distance of the mountain in Hawke's sight is a dragon being hurled in his direction. He snaps his eyes wide open, snatches the Elder Scroll and jumps out of the way of Paarthurnax making a crash landing next to Hawke. Hawke quickly runs over to his downed ally, just to have Paarthurnax roll upright and face Hawke, as Hawke now stops midway and looking up.
Paarthurnax calls out to Hawke, "Dragonborn! Use Dragonrend to defeat Alduin!"
Hawke looks at the allied dragon and waves his arms up in the air as if frustrated. "Cheap advice from a dragon!" Hawke prepares to draw out his bow, in case his new plan fails, and prepares his counter attack against Alduin. Hawke takes a deep breath, closing his eyes, and concentrating on those three words he heard in his vision.
"Mortal. Finite. Temporary." Hawke calmly said to himself, as he senses Alduin closing. Hawke then feels a build up of rage as he concentrates more on those three words.
"Fall to me, mortal!" the dark dragon shouts has he swoops down to attack Hawke.
Hawke then releases the build up of power from the shout to bring Alduin down. "JOOR ZAH FAUL!"
A eruption of hatred and fury from the Dragonrend shout blasts into Alduin, forcing him to crash land behind both Hawke and Paarthurnax, having Alduin glide right over them and forcing him into the side of the mountain itself.
Alduin growls aloud, fire emitting from his razor sharp, obsidian dark jaw. "You'll pay for that, mortal!"
Hawke makes sure he has his arrows at the ready and draws out his daggers. "Says the one who was just brought down by this mortal." he replies with a rebellious smirk growing.
Beginning of the fourth year of Hawke's adventure in this land known as Skyrim. Hawke was mildly injured from the notable confrontation with Alduin just a month before. Just a few harms that a healing spell could fix. Since then, he has been seeking aid from Jarl Balgruuf to capture a dragon withing Dragonsreach, since that was the keeps original purpose after all. Balgruuf gave Hawke an audience to see him. Jarl Balgruuf's decree on the matter was that he wouldn't assist Hawke until the war was over and his hold is safe from any random attacks or there was a ceasefire in place. Hawke figured that a ceasefire would be extremely easier than stopping a war by his lonesome. Hawke then sent out missives out to Solitude and Windhelm, looking for the leaders of this war.
Back at High Hrothgar, the Greybeards await for the people Hawke sent out notices to, while Hawke himself "mediates" on the one of the many platforms in the High Hrothgar's courtyard. He as been sitting out there for a few days and only comes inside to sleep, eat, and if it gets too cold for his Fereldan ass. Once in a while per day, one of the Greybeard joins him out side and sits nearby to keep him company. Nearing the time of the expected arrival of the groups from Imperials and the Stormcloaks, Master Arngeir joined Hawke outside in the courtyard. "Dragonborn, you are making us proud by following the Way of the Voice recently in your adventures and current events."
Hawke glances over to see Arngeir. "Thank you, Master. I have been thinking a lot recently, piecing things together from my travels."
"Oh? And what have you been meditating on for the past few days being out in courtyard?" asked Arngeir, intrigued by Hawke's enlightened sounding self.
"Multiple things, like what I will tell the two factions to postpone their war, how to convince a dragon to have me defeat his leader, and a few minor things." solemnly answers Hawke, now standing and looking off the cliff side and onto the horizon.
Arngeir nods, standing next to Hawke now. "I believe you will find the right choice, Dragonborn."
"I do have one thing I want to find you that could possibly answer, Master." Hawke pauses, now trying to look serious, "Was this place built out something before it was stone?"
Arngeir nods again. "Of course, it was made of wood before it was remade."
Hawke raises an eyebrow. "What do you mea-"
"Dragonborn. Please think before you speak." Arngeir pinches the bridge of his nose, then shakes his head. "Come now, Dragonborn. I believe the representatives are arriving." Hawke wonders what Arngeir meant, put knew he needed to stay focus. It would be one of the first times he met Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak and General Tullius without being sent to the headman's block.
Upon reentering High Hrothgar, the other Greybeards began showing the representatives to where the area of this diplomatic meeting will be held. Master Arngier bows slightly to Hawke, then moves away to assist with the arrival. Hawke on the other hand watches from the foot of the stairs the main room and spots the Imperial group and the Stormcloak group, espicially one Stormcloak soldier with bright red hair, green eyes, pale skin but with freckles, and strong stoic features. He stares at her for a few moments, attempting to remember where he has seen her before. Then Jarl Ulfric turns to her and points down the hall to the meeting room. "Aveline, go secure us a seat before the Empire takes something again."