Chapter I: The Stranger of the North
"We thank you stranger from the Northern lands of Skyrim, for breaking the curse that has plagued our lands for so long." Came the voice of Lleril Morvayn he was a dark elf and First Councilor of Raven Rock, a vile and vast land that was once a paradise island but when the Red Mountain erupted it sent waves of ash and water destroying the island leaving it the wasteland that it is. "If only I was able to look upon the face of our protector, but I understand your wish to hide your identity. No matter you will always be welcome to these lands, may your travel lead you to great wealth friend." The elf said as he stood up holding his hand out, to shake, for the person he was speaking to though no hand grasped his, leaving the air tense as the leader of Raven Rock lowered his hand and slowly sat back down in this wooden chair.
The clawed hands of the warrior that stood before the Councilor twitched for but a second leaving few to wonder if it was an act of aggression one, though no words escaped their mouth. As a matter of fact, the Councilor couldn't even remember if the warrior before him had ever spoken, out of all the encounters he had with the dangerous person. Whom had entered this town by ship only a couple of months ago, dressed in the same daedric armor as now, in what appeared to be on a warpath to the All-Maker Earth Stone, after talking for a short time to Adri Arano, though nothing happened as the warrior turned and left the city, into the wastelands not returning for some time. Upon their return, they once again made a warpath to the Earth Stone this time destroying the structure that had encompassed the ideal hands of the miners. Who quickly returned to working within the mines after it was strangely cleared out during the night. There were even whispers of a dangerous traveler that wondered the lands of Tamriel, entering into towns at night lending a helping hand then leaving once again in the night, no one ever knew what race the warrior, as no one saw their face. Leaving the Councilor to wonder if this was the dangerous warrior or if the stories were made up by the empire to keep Thalmor under their control.
Eyes snapped towards the warrior as they turned on their heels, the only sound coming from them was the grinding of their metal armor as they exited the building taking strangely graceful brisk strides towards the docks. The townspeople, even guards, moved out of their way gasping an awe at the armored warrior passed them, with a single goal in mind the docks. The Northern Madden was the only ship in port at the time, in fact, it was the only ship ever to port in Raven Rock after the Red Mountain erupted. The captain, Gjalund, stood next to the center mast of his ship reading over the manifest, onboard his ship, that he was to take back to Windhelm later in the afternoon.
"Sir he's back." Whispered Lygrleid, the very words sent a shiver down his spine as he slowly looked up from his book to see the very being, standing on the dock looking out at the open sea, that brought him back to Raven Rock after he had sworn to never come back. Gulping down the lump in his throat he closed the book he was reading and slowly approached the warrior, the movement caused the warriors head to snap towards the Captain, making Gjalund froze in his tracks, his hand tightly gripping the spin of the book as he looked to warrior up and down seeing evidence of fighting, dents, scratches, even traces of blood.
"Do…" He paused looking away from the stares of the dangerous man before him once again having to swallow the lump in his throat. "Do you sneak passage back to the mainland?" Gjalund asked eyes glancing up to the armored being, who stared at him arms crossing over their chest. What felt like an eternity passing to the captain was only seconds as the Warrior nodded their head. "We can leave now if you would like." He said watching as the warrior relaxed their arms back to their side and nodded their head once again. "Then welcome aboard." He said watching in awe as the being slowly stepped onto the ship heading for the single chair in the back of the ship, it surprised him that even with such a threatening aura the warrior held, he still respected customs.
Something that someone so barbaric would never consider then again, when the warrior first arrived at the shipyard in Windhelm he was waving the masked head of a dead cultist, guilt-tripping the Captain into returning to Raven Rock. "Sogrlaf raise the anchor, we are returning to Windhelm." The Captain shouted catching a quick glance to the warrior sitting like a statue slightly unnerving him. It only took three days to return to Skyrim, the crew was able to breathe a sigh of relief when the Warrior finally moved from his seat. They watched tensed and out of the corner of their eyes, while going about their duties, as he stood up moving silently across the deck, leaving behind a small leather pouch of gold in the chair and disappearing into the city of Windhelm hopefully to never be seen again.
"Hi Mister! Would you like to buy a flower? Please?" A soft gentle voice sounding almost like a plea for help. This caused the Warrior to pause in their steps helm turning slightly to look at the young child out of the corner of their eye. Sofie, she was a sweet girl that sold flowers near the dock her harsh life was the effect of the civil war, that Ulfric had stirred up after killing the High King of Skyrim. Wither it was in fair combat it was not something that the Warrior cared for only that the outcome caused so much loss, on both sides. Reaching into their larger gold pouch the warrior pulled out ten gold coins, turning they walked up to Sofie who quickly backed away eyes wide in fright, though she paused upon seeing the gold her stomach growled loudly. Gently the Warrior placed the gold into Sofie's basket of flowers then turned on their heel and continued to walk out of the city that marked the end of the war for Skyrim. "Divines bless your kind heart," Sofie called out to the Warrior as he disappeared behind a wall, leaving Windhelm for what the Warrior hoped would be a while as he walked along the long bridge to the stables pausing in debate on whether to hire a carriage, buy a horse, or just walk. With no quest or urgent matters to complete, they decided on just walking home, in hopes of enjoying a peaceful walk to clear their mind of the darkness that plagued them from the recent world ending quest.
It nearly six days to get to Riverwood, paying respect to Hadvar's grave, a man that the Warrior owned a lot too, another three for the Warrior to arrive at Fellkreath cottage a small land that was graciously given to the Warrior. Nestled between a mountain range, and a border wall, it was a nice small home, with a wizard tower on the right-hand side. The Warrior let out a small sigh as they entered into the home, going straight for the basement armory to remove the armor, placing it neatly upon an empty mannequin near the door leaving the warrior in a tight form-fitting gambeson*. Repairs would have to wait on the armor as a nice bath was calling the Warriors name at the moment, turning upon their heels that walked to the other side of the basement into a set of doors that lead to the bathroom, walking up to the water basin the Warrior started to peel off the gambeson letting the cloth fall to the ground leaving the cloth on the ground they stepped down into the bath pulling a leaver and sat down allowing the water to fill the bath, casting the occasional flame spell to heat the water up.
For the first time in what felt like forever since coming to Skyrim, the resident of Fellkreath cottage was able to relax sitting down at the desk on the second-floor loft, writing down the adventures of Solheim if one could call it that, dressed in loose-fitting trousers and a woolen shirt, long white hair held up in a braid. It was a colder night then Datura was used to, but the warmth she felt from the fire within the kitchen below helped warm the small home. She paused in her writing her heterochromia eyes looking at the dark feather she held then towards the shelve above her of all her adventures in Skyrim. Her eyes traveled to the first book she wrote; the journal was old and tattered with edges slightly burnet from the dragon fire of Helgen.
Tomorrow marked the seventh year since the attack, the thought amused Datura for a while as she leaned back in her chair crossing her arms over her chest. In seven years, since she first entered Skyrim she had, ended a civil war, defeated Alduin, defeat a power-hungry Vampire, went to College, taken part in the Thieves Guild, Companions, and Dark Brotherhood, though the last three had left her sour. She was left with nothing from the Thieves Guild as Karliah was named the Guild Master taking all of the praise for killing Mercer, the Companions kicked her out when she suggested that the incircle get cured, and the Dark Brotherhood, just the thought of the failing assassins group made her eyes roll. After Astrid's betrayal and the burning of the Falkreath Sanctuary by Commander Maro, everyone fled to the Dawnstar Sanctuary, where Arnbjorn handed Nazir a letter, that he received from Astrid before she passed, a letter with the Penitus Oculatus seal stating her as a traitor to the family. Nazir was kind enough and smart enough to give her the option of leaving without any bloodshed on the grounds of never returning or having contact with the Night Mother or the Sanctuary. After a month away, the very month, Datura had taken to build Fellkreath Cottage, she had returned to the first Sanctuary only to leave Nightshade for those that died in the attack.
With a small huff, she placed her quill down gently drying the nib, then corked the ink, leaving the journal out to dry, as she rose from her chair and walked to her bed pulling back the covers to lay down to finally get a good night rest without worrying about someone coming in to stab her in the back. Tomorrow she had planned to work on fixing her armor, then if she had the time that damn teleportation spell that kept tripping her up. She would probably have to break down and run to the College to talk with Tolfdir, maybe he could provide some insight if he wasn't too busy with being the Arch-mage.
Gambeson- padded armor worn under knights armor as to protect the skin.