1-08-14

Another update! I have the next 6 or so chapters planned out, but don't have the time to write them! Will try to update as much as I can.

I should mention that there are some other mods I use that will explain some of the description here. I have Wild Horses, Prides of Skyrim (adds lions) and animal mods that improve the animals' behavior and adds baby animals.

Special thank-you to HappyHampsters who has been such a prolific reviewer :)


Tharwen set off on her journey before dawn the following morning, Sinding following at her heels. She donned her traditional, leather Bosmer armor, cowl and cape included, and carried her newly crafted bow and shortblades, along with an assortment of arrows. She had also brought a small bit of cheese and water with her, but did so mostly out of convenience than necessity. She could eat raw meat and intended to hunt while she traveled. Kodlak had shown her a rough map outlining where Glenmoril coven's hideout was located, to the best of his knowledge. She decided to head first to Rorikstead, and complete his assignment before going to the Greybeards, as she had been ordered by the Jarl.

She found a group of wild horses, and beckoned one over with her natural ability, mounting the creature without tack, and cantered over the sea of stubby grassland. In the distance, the dim sounds of a fight were apparent, and as she approached, she could see a bloody skirmish taking place in a clash of red and blue. Whiterun had seemed neutral, and although many there were affected by the war, the war hadn't arrived there just yet. It was coming closer though. Tharwen kept her distance from the battle, wanting to make better time, and felt annoyed at the fact that it meant any local game would have fled far from there by now. The bay horse shied as they moved past, perhaps due to the circling birds overhead, awaiting the feast of dead bodies. Not far she found dead Stormcloaks and Legionnaires, being scavenged by the re-emerged wildlife. She instructed Sinding to leave the bodies, though she dismounted several times to search the bodies for useful items - arrows, health potions and gold they may have carried. After moving far enough away that she could no longer see or smell evidence of the battle, she took a break and allowed the horse to graze while she enjoyed a small meal. The sun was past its zenith as she rode into a small town. Rorikstead was a small scattering of buildings, surrounded by farms. Unlike Riverwood, despite the similar size, the settlement felt very open, only sheltered by a small outcropping of rocks on its western side. Tharwen dismounted, and allowed the horse to wander, return to its herd. She was greeted by a guard, and entered the inn.

"Welcome, stranger." An older, balding man approached her. "Name's Mralki. Do you need a meal and a bed for the night?"

Tharwen handed the man a handful of gold. "I'd like a room for the night."

"Of course, this way."

He eyed the wolf pup, now reaching Tharwen's waist, though still lanky and awkard. The animal did not give an air of aggression, and was quiet, even more so than the wolfhounds or malamutes that were common dogs in Skyrim.

"Just let me know if there's anything else you need." Mralki turned and left while Tharwen settled in.

The Bosmer unloaded her pack and relaxed momentarily, and fed Sinding a hefty portion of leftover elk meat. The canid chewed on the bone and gristle as Tharwen shared the meal, downing fresh water as she did so. As she laid back, to review her plans for the the coven, she heard a sudden and all-too-familiar screech.

"DRAGON!"

She quickly gathered her weapons, and left her pack, running outside to see an ill-planned bandit raid being interrupted by the massive form of a grey-green wyvern. A burst of flame ignited the hillside, and she could see one of the bandits fall to the ground. Tharwen crept around, to get a good view of the dragon's haunches before loosing several arrows. The beast wailed, and the sparse guards on duty joined the fray along with a few brave villagers.

Tharwen cut down one of the bandits that had tried to take advantage of the chaos, her blade sliding through the gaps in the leather armor. She stuffed down her urges to transform and feed on the newly killed bandit, but resisted. There were too many people here and she would not spoil the Circle's secret. She instead channeled this fury into her blades and bow, and drove her emotions toward Sinding who fought with new vigor, tearing at the heels of the other invaders while Tharwen turned her attention to the dragon.

She leaped onto a higher outcrop, and took aim, her arrow glancing off the scales and missing its eye. It turned to face her, and a glimmer of recognition shone in its eye. Almost a trace of fear, was swallowed by arrogant rage. Tharwen dodged before the dragon's breath reached her, the flames creeping along the rocks as it burned the lichen and moss. Tharwen leaped up again and shouted at the dragon's maw.

"FUS!"

The force hit enough to stop the dragon for only a moment and she fired several arrows between the twin horns protruding from it's skull. The first bounced off of the hardened bone but the second found a softer spot, sinking into the flesh. She fired another directly into its maw, aiming for the softer palette of the roof of the mouth. The dragon ushered another gout of fire, a reaction to the pain and it's valor had weakened considerably. One of the guards swiftly entered and stabbed the dragon's belly, receiving a sharp blow from it's claws. But the damage had been done. In another flurry of arrows from Tharwen and another guard, the great beast reared and then fell with an earth-shaking thud. Tharwen felt drawn to the carcass and saw the creature once disintegrate as she approached, its essence enveloping her and she felt a sudden rush as she absorbed it. The guards looked at her in awe, and she reached down to college the bones and bounties of the now-dead beast. Sinding tried to gnaw on the solid bone but whimpered as he found it too hot and hard for him. Tharwen packed them gently, scales and bones both, and carried them back to the inn, placing them with her pack.


Tharwen woke the following morning later in the day, enjoying a larger breakfast, and set off on foot toward the witches' coven. The air was cold, but the sun illuminated the landscape with the strange light of the land far north. Tharwen kept alert, as she and her companion approached another skirmish, though much smaller than the last. The smell of ozone, and the sharp sound of electricity brought her attention suddenly. She knew it was a common magic, but it was highly favored by the Mer, especially Thalmor.

The voice echoed in her mind, and she felt a sick sense of memory creep over her. She felt her heart racing, and saw the black-robed figure sending another spark toward a Stormcloak soldier, who fell to the ground, twitching. Tharwen swallowed and moved away, feeling her heart pounding heavier and heavier, faster and faster. Sinding whined, and paced around her as she slowly packed all of her things into a bundle and placed them loosely around her neck. She allowed the beast to overtake her, and in a burst of fur and teeth she barreled toward the hooded elf.

The force knocked them both off their feet, to the ground. The elf managed to dodge her second blow and she felt her fur singed as the electricity burned through her flesh. She struck him with long claws, cutting deep gashes through the robes and into the flesh, the life ebbing out of him. She engorged herself, only stopping when a sharp, pained yelp from Sinding was apparent. She turned her massive head, her black maw covered in blood, and saw another Thalmor soldier. She jumped, the force of her body landing atop the altmer and tore open the throat, feeding from its life force. The few surviving Stormcloaks charged her. In the heat of ecstasy she tore limbs from trunks and chewed through light mail and heavy curvaiss alike. She felt vibrant, and now, as the sky darkened, threatening rain. She and Sinding loped at a quick pace, toward the general direction of Glenmoril. Tharwen's mind began to clear, and she took notice of the landmarks as they neared the coven. It was pouring by the time they reached the alcove, mostly-picked bones and carcasses littering the cave's entrance. The smell was acrid, what could only be from magic and dead creatures rotting nearby. Feathers littered the entrance of the cave, larger than from any bird Tharwen had seen since Valenwood. Sinding investigated, sniffing at the droppings and various animal parts around the cave. Tharwen watched the small wolf roll around in the refuse and followed in suit, to cover their scent as they entered the cavern.

Sinding surged ahead of her, pouncing a skeever lurking in the shadows. Tharwen urged him to follow, instead of feeding from the creature, that likely was diseased and sickly in such a place. Ahead, several smaller flames and a larger, central fire gave the dim cavern slight illumination. The odd outline of a body was apparent, working away, grinding ingredients meant for a potion. The scuffle sounded unlike boots or bare feet, but claws.

Harpy?

The moment Tharwen let the thought cross her mind, Sinding charged into the cavern, worrying the ankles of the creature. Tharwen followed, using her weight to interrupt the harpy's spell. Tharwen felt the impact of the fireball and fell back, the scorching heat alighting on her coat, the smell of burnt fur filling her nostrils. She growled, and clawed at the witch, who returned a strike with her talons and a screech. Tharwen sent a flurry of sharp blows against her, batting the harpy's talons away, to prevent the witch from firing her magic. Tharwen finally unbalanced her, and tore into the witch's chest, till she bled dry. Tharwen fed from the body as much as she could stand, but the odd, almost foul, taste left much to be desired and she felt no rush of power. Tharwen felt her beast form fading, and hurried out of the cave, in case the other members of the coven were to arrive while she was in her more vulnerable state.

She was nude, in the rain, when she made it out of the cave, and pulled her pack bundled from around her neck. It had suffered a bit of damage from the fire magic, but the outer wrapping had taken most of the damage. She huddled under a tree and pulled on her armor, hood, boots and gauntlets, before finishing off with the now slightly-damaged cloak. She pulled her Skyforge sword from its sheath and crept into the cavern once more, Sinding at her heels. The cavern was quiet, although she could sense that the harpy's sisters were likely elsewhere in the caverns, busy doing whatever dark magic they were working on. Tharwen quickly used the sharpened blade to slice cleanly through the harpy's neck, and wrapped the head in a shroud, before stuffing it into the pack.

She hurried out of the coven's lair and breathed in relief at the cool, earthy scent of the rainfall. Though cold, the fresh air was a blessing compared to the harsh environment of the cavern. The Bosmer shouldered her pack and set off at a quick pace. It felt late in the day, though she had a hard time discerning with the sun so thoroughly hidden. She pulled the cowl over her face, and drudged through the mud on the path, Sinding following several paces behind, silently. Once they reached the path, they made better time, now not as bogged down by the weather. Tharwen headed into the Frostfruit Inn, and paid Mralki for another night, before returning to the room. After a hearty meal alone, Tharwen settled into bed with Sinding and slept.


High Hrothgar loomed in the distance, the ever-present storm at its peak hiding the pinnacle of the summit. Tharwen had cajoled another of the wild horses into carrying her over the tundra. From the distance, on her path, Tharwen could see the silhouette of Dragonsreach, rising proudly above the flat plains. She was tempted to return immediately with Kodlak's prize before her pilgrimage, but duty drove her onward. She had been named Thane, despite the fact that she was an outsider. Their tacit acceptance, compared to the way the Thalmor Altmer had treated her, no matter what she accomplished, had made her feel obliged to follow their customs, regardless of how dubious she was toward it. The lure of power, also, drew her to her destination. The beast was a blessing of its own, but she had heard the stories of others with the power called the Voice. Ulfric Stormcloak, the usurper, had started the war by murdering King Torygg and had used that power to defeat him. Unseating a king was no small feat.

Tharwen arrived at the humble town of Ivarstead after a tiring trek through the mountains. The sun had long since set when she arrived, and she dismounted a certain distance away, before making her way to Vilemyr Inn. She was greeted by a familiar central hearth, and felt relaxed as she warmed herself. The innkeeper, a balding man just entering his later years, approached her and offered her refreshment. Tharwen paid for her room and kept his conversation to gather any advice for her journey.

"Town's pretty empty - only people come through here are pilgrims like you." He eyed her, "I hate to tell you, but you may want to save yourself the trouble. All of them return disappointed. Them Greybeards don't open their doors anymore."

Tharwen nodded politely, but did not reveal why she was going. "I'll take my chances."

He gave a half smile. "Don't see many elves climbing the steps to the Greybeards, I must say."

Tharwen gave a smile, though it was somewhat insincere. "I come at behest of a friend and dutybound. Can I have a bowl of whatever meat stew is on your menu tonight. I can offer my own game for your trouble."

Wilhelm left her and she heard him speaking to the other customers, though they were few and far between - mostly other residents of the small hamlet. In the din, she secluded herself in her own room, and fed her wolf some of the raw, dried meat they had carried with them. She left the bread for Sinding to gnaw on, and rested for the hours before dawn, when she would set upon her journey to High Hrothgar.