Disclaimer: The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim is the intellectual property of Bethesda Studios and The Witcher 3: The Wild Hunt is the intellectual property of CD Projekt Red.
Silver Soul, Dragon's Heart
by Storm Wolf77415, Wing Commander White Wolf, and Centurious the Azure
Between Worlds
"Gotta get away!" The rider rasped, spurring his horse to go faster. "How could I do something so foolish?" He clutched at the pendant of a stylized wolf's head hanging around his neck. "Damn it, I didn't mean for this to happen! Foolish old bastard shouldn't have pushed me so far!" He blinked away the tears. "Mom told me that temper of mine was going to get me into trouble one day." He put his thoughts aside, trying to coax more speed out of the poor animal.
After an hour, the rider stopped for a quick break. He sat down on a rock, panting heavily. "It's just before noon. I should make it to Novigrad before sundown, After that, I need to find a ship and get as far away from here as possible." He looked to his horse, gently patting it on the nose. "I know I'm asking a lot of you, old friend. Once we get to Novigrad, you can rest." A low rumbling sound made his head snapped up, eyes whipping around the forest. "Break time's over!" He got back up in the saddle and took off.
It was starting to get into the middle of the afternoon. The rider was moving on stress and fatigue. He caught sight of the road sign saying 'Novigrad, twenty miles.' It gave him a sense of relief. "I'm almost there." The rider tried to keep his composure. "Shouldn't be hard to find passage to Ard Skellige. I should have enough to pay for it." He pushed the horse once again. He was so focused on the road, he didn't see the roots suddenly shoot out from the road.
"What the fuck?" The rider said, whipping around, only to hear a loud and a clawed hand lashing him across the face and torso. He was sent flying from the horse a good ten feet, rolling another five before coming to a stop. Blood obscured his vision as he madly wiped his eyes with one hand, reaching for one of the two sheathed swords on his back. He heard a loud stomp before another rang reverberated off the trees. His vision cleared enough he could finally see what he was facing. A tall, spindly creature with long, gnarled limbs that resembled tree branches and a head covered by a deer skull, surrounded by a pack of wolves.
"Oh great, a Leshen, As if my day couldn't get any worse!" He brought the sword up as the monster roared, leaping to the side to avoid the plant roots lancing out of the ground. The warrior noticed a wolf leap at him, only for him to stick a hand out. "Aard!" He yelled, a gust of wind knocked the beast back, letting him follow up with a swing of the blade, cutting the head off.
He made to attack the aggressive forest spirit, only for his vision to become red again. "Damn it!" He cursed, wiping away the blood again. It was enough of an opening for the Leshen to strike with the roots, impaling him in the chest and shoulder. "Fuck!" He gurgled as blood erupted from his mouth. His blue eyes narrowed, as he held up his hand again. "Igni!" A wave of fire flew out, burning the branches, causing the Leshen to roar in pain. A couple more of the wolves raced at him, but they were felled by two quick sword strikes.
"I can't keep doing this!" He reached into the satchel at his side, pulling out a small fist-sized metal sphere, he ignited the small wick at the top. The fizzing steel ball hurtled through the air, exploding, sending shrapnel everywhere, shredding more of the wolves and taking off a piece of the Leshen's skull, causing it to roar in a mix of pain and anger. The warrior limped through the woods, trying to keep ahead of his pursuers.
"That was my last bomb." He winced at the pain shooting in his side. "Best down a Swallow potion." he reached into the satchel, pulling out a small glass vial with a thick purple fluid inside. He flipped the cap off, downing it in one gulp. His strength returned and his wounds healed, but the pain was still there. "I need to find cover." He said, looking for anywhere he could recover for a few minutes to make a better stand against the creature, who roared once again. "The faster the better!"
He began looking around, before sighting the opening to a small cave. "That will do!" The Leshen's roar echoed once again. The warrior grimaced as he stumbled inside. The pain shooting through his legs with each step. The edge of his vision was beginning to turn gray. "I guess another potion is in order!" He reached into the satchel with trembling fingers, pulling out another bottle, this one containing a purple fluid. "Tawny Owl, not my favorite, but it will do for now." He again downed it in a single gulp.
His vision cleared and he was able to get a look at his surroundings. The cave was unremarkable, and the entrance was quite narrow, too much so for the Leshen to enter. Also present was a swirling purple vortex. His eyes widened in slight disbelief. "A portal, in a place like this?" He didn't have time to ponder it any sooner. For he could soon hear the thunderous footsteps outside, its gnarled body looming into view. It thrust its branchlike hand into the gap, trying to get at its potential victim. The warrior stumbled to his feet, bringing his sword up.
The monster roared again, pounding angrily as dirt began falling from the ceiling. The roots began lashing out, trying to impale its target. The warrior let out another wave of fire. He looked toward the swirling void of the portal. "Let see, possibly get impaled and eaten by a Leshen, or a portal to somewhere I don't know?" He looked back to the dead void of the Leshen's skull face, and then to the portal. "Door Number Two it is then!" He took off at full stride for the portal, leaping through.
Pain, that was all the warrior could feel as he was spun around in a cyclone of light. Pain ripped across his body, every nerve ending blazing more than the greatest inferno. The warrior was no stranger to pain, but this was too much for even a seasoned veteran like him to withstand before he finally blacked out.
(Unknown Place)
"Everyone get out of the way! Priestess Pure-Spring, we got another patient for you!"
"By the Divines! What happened to him?"
"We found him wandering just outside the city. He was in a daze, covered in blood, whole front torso ripped open like he had been mauled by a bear or saber cat. He just mumbled nonsense before he finally passed out."
"Prepare a bed for him at once, Phoebe, bring the restorative potions! Okay, let's see about getting this mangled armor off him. Oh my, look at all these scars. Whoever he is, clearly he's seen a few battles."
"It looks like he's lost a lot of blood. The poor man may not be much longer for this world. I only hope Mara helps his soul."
"Are we giving up on him?"
"Not if I have anything to say about it. But, we should also prepare for the worst. I would think working here for as long as you have would have prepared you for this, Phoebe."
"I know Danica. But it still hurts."
"You have a gentle heart, Phoebe. It's one of the things I admire most about you. I'm putting you in charge of this young man. Give him all the love and care you can muster. I get the feeling he hasn't had much in his life, to begin with."
A bright light was all the warrior could see, a part of him wondered if his number had finally come up. His vision coalesced, contemplating just what the afterlife would look like. His vision slowly cleared. He could someone hovering over him. But he couldn't see their face just yet. "Is that an angel?" He rasped. He could make out an ethereal, majestic smile.
The warrior was still coming back to his senses, and darkness was about to reclaim him, but then he felt something gently caress the side of his face. "Not quite. Just hold on a minute." A feminine voice spoke, he could feel his body's aches lessen more. "That's it, you're almost there." The voice had a warmth to it. The warrior's vision coalesced even more and he saw what was clearly a ceiling, and then he saw her. The smile from earlier belonged to a young woman with gentle blue eyes, her indigo hued hair in an elaborate braid. Dark blue robes with cream-colored trim clung to a lithe figure.
"Hi there. It's good to see you're finally up." The woman's voice emanated nothing but compassion, sitting on a stool next to the bed he rested upon. The warrior only paid half attention, looking around at his surroundings. "Are you okay?" She asked worriedly. It was then the two finally locked eyes with each other. The girl gasped in shock. "Your eyes!"
The warrior's eyes were now gold and slitted, reminding her of a cat. He took note of the bandages covered a large part of his upper torso. "Where am I and how did I get here?" The man's question was simple and to the point, it caught the girl off guard. But she quickly regained her composure. She took note of his weathered face and the scars that marked it. One running vertically down the left side of his face, and another one running diagonally across the right side of his forehead.
"You're at the Temple of Kynareth, in the city of Whiterun. Which is located in the province of Skyrim." The girl mage replied, still not sure what to make of her patient's eyes. "You were found just outside the city, badly hurt. It looked like you had been attacked by a wild animal."
"No, it was something far worse." Between the man's cryptic answer and the way his fingers ran along the bandages didn't make her any better. She sat up straight when he looked at her again. "You were the one who nursed me back to health?" She nodded her head slightly, blushing slightly. "Then you have my thanks. I suppose a proper introduction is in order. The name's Sebastian Connor, I'm a Witcher of the Wolf School."
Phoebe felt her unease wane some. At least now she knew the stranger's name. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Connor. My name is Phoebe Spring-Rain. You'll forgive me if I say I've never heard of witchers before."
Sebastian just grunted. "Probably better if you haven't. So you're a priestess here at this temple?"
"Oh no, I'm actually apprenticed to Farengar Secret-Fire, the court mage of the Jarl of Whiterun, but I do help the clerics here at the temple when they're overworked," Phoebe said, indicated to two other people, a man, and a women both wearing orange robes, tending to three other people resting on beds. "Danica Pure-Spring is the head priestess and the man is her acolyte Jenssen. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask them."
He reached for a spot on his chest and then began looking around the room in increasing alarm. She could see his distress. "You wouldn't by chance know what happened to my personal effects, namely my medallion? It's irreplaceable."
"I have it all right here." She reached into her robe, pulling out a silver medallion shaped like a stylized wolf head, the eyes made of highly faceted rubies. "I hope you don't mind me wearing it. I was afraid someone might steal it from you." She took it off her neck, offering it to Sebastian, who gingerly put it back where it belonged. "I have to admit, it's a very impressive piece of craftsmanship. I also sensed a magical aura emanating from it."
"It allows me to detect high concentrations of magic, not to mention it serves as our main form of identification. Do you have anything else? My weapons and armor?" The way Phoebe winced did not encourage him. "How much is left?" Sebastian finally asked the question, bracing himself for the worst.
Phoebe produced a small brown journal with the same logo embossed on the cover from one of the pockets of her robes, laying it down on the nightstand. She also held up a leather satchel, the faint sound of clinking glass relieving him quite a bit. He took the bag, opening it up to reveal a series of glass bottles and vials containing fluids of different colors. "Between these and the medallion, it's all we found with you. As for your armor, it was mangled beyond repair."
"Can I see it?" He asked.
"After you've recovered some more." Phoebe's tone was firm, clearly used to dealing with stubborn warriors. The mage gave him a delicate pat on the cheek. "At least take another day, after that I can show you around town. We have a really good blacksmith and she can outfit you with whatever you need."
Sebastian just smirked. He liked a woman who had steel in her. "That's fair. I'm a bit upset that I lost all my weapons, but I would have been really put out if I had lost my potions." He indicated to the satchel. "I lost all the ingredients I collected when my horse was killed. And it would be a real pain in the ass to start over from scratch, especially considering I'm not sure if the plants I need are even present here."
"We also have a very renowned alchemist here that could have what you need." Phoebe offered.
"It's not that simple. Witcher potions are a completely different beast from what you're probably used to. Although a visit to the alchemy store may be in order. It will be worth knowing what kind of ingredients you have available in case I need to brew up something else." Sebastian put the bag under his bed. "Thank you for your time, Miss Spring-Rain. I just want to rest for right now."
"If you need anything just call for me. If I'm not available, just ask Danica or Jenssen." Phoebe's smile was something Sebastian felt he could see more of. He took note of her backside as she walked off. He laid back down on the bed, letting himself go back to sleep, and process everything he had learned just now.
(Two Days Later)
The cool wind blew through Sebastian's hair. He was dressed simply in a white linen shirt and woven leather pants, with a pair of well worn, brown leather boots on his feet. He wiped his fingers across his eyes, changing them from gold and slitted, to a normal shade of blue. "A nice little piece of magic you just pulled off," Phoebe said.
"A little something my foster mother taught me. It's useful when you don't want to give away you're a witcher." Sebastian said. "I'd like to avoid questions about that as long as possible."
"It's nice to finally be out of the temple isn't it?" Phoebe had offered to be Sebastian's guide around the city. The young mage just made the witcher feel more at ease. She was quite eager to give him the grand tour. "Whiterun is one of the most beautiful cities in all of Skyrim, although I might be a little biased in that. We'll start right here in the Wind District, the primary residential area of the city. The Temple of Kynareth is of course right behind us. The large tree is the Gildergreen." She indicated to the large tree in front of them, built around an artificial river, complete with benches and a circular pergola.
Phoebe's expression grew a little somber, Sebastian took a closer look and saw indications the tree had been burned by something. "The tree is a symbol of Kynareth herself. It's related to another tree called the Eldergleam. Although it was struck by lightning recently and isn't doing so well. Danica is very worried about it. I've heard she's planning on doing something to revitalize it in order to bring in more pilgrims."
Sebastian made a mental note to ask the priestess if he could help out in some way once he was back on his feet. He then looked past the Gildergreen to a large mead hall, the sloping roof making him think of a boat. Phoebe picked up on this. "That's Jorrvaskr, home of the Companions, Skyrim's warrior's guild, not to mention the eldest building in Whiterun. If you're looking for work, it's a good place to start."
"I'll be sure to keep that in mind," Sebastian said as Phoebe slid her arm around his, leading him past the Gildergreen and down the steps. Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell how she was blushing slightly. "So where are you going next?" He asked.
"Down to the Plains District, it's where the marketplace and all the businesses are located, including the blacksmith and alchemist." They passed through the bustling array of stalls, stopping before a building with a sign that read 'The Bannered Mare.' "Once we get you set up, you can rent a room here at the Mare. The owner, Hulda, always has a couple of warm beds available, and the food is pretty good. If you want to make some easy coin, you can always chop some firewood for her."
"I'll keep that in mind." Sebastian had cursed the fact he had lost his money pouch in the transit to this world. A part of him wondered if they would even accept crowns, florens, or orens anyway. So it was probably a moot point anyway. He made another mental note to explore the stalls when he had more time and rebuilt his arsenal and get some decent equipment.
Eventually, they reached the sweeping walls of the grand city, and Sebastian heard the all too familiar sound of a blacksmith's forge working. He saw a small shop near the main gates. A painted sign reading 'Warmaiden's' hanging from the front. He saw a woman with dark skin and long brown hair tied in a ponytail, wearing a heavy leather apron pounding metal on the anvil. "I guess that's the Warmaiden herself?" Sebastian offered.
A light giggle and a slight nod was the only reply he got. "Hi there Adrianne!" Phoebe called out.
"Good day to you, Phoebe." The woman, Adrianne, responded back, laying the metal she was working on in the cooling trough, before wiping the grime off her hands with a convenient rag. She caught the eye of Sebastian. "Who is this, a potential customer?"
Seeing his chance, the witcher stood himself up, puffing out his chest a little, putting on his best public relations face. "You just might. The name's Sebastian Connor, I'm a Witcher of the Wolf School. In simplest terms, I'm a professional monster hunter. I only arrived here in Skyrim a few days ago. The trip was a rough one, to say the least, and I lost the bulk of my equipment. Miss Spring-Rain here says you're one of the best blacksmiths in the region, and I'm hoping you can hook me up."
"Oh did she?" Adrianne raised an eyebrow at this, while Phoebe just blushed. "I'm Adrianne Avenicci, the proprietor of this establishment. I'm flattered she speaks so highly of my skills. Although if you want the best blacksmith in town, you'd have to look up Eorland Grey-Mane. His steel is legendary. However, you would have to join the Companions to get his services. But I do my fair share of business. I'm finishing up some work here. Why don't you go in the store and see what we have to offer, and then we'll talk."
Sebastian opened the door and entered the store, taking note of the numerous weapons lining the walls and on the racks. Most of them seemed fairly innocuous, forged of iron and steel, the latter having a series of elegant runes engraved around the hilt. There was also a couple of more exotic looking weapons scattered about here and there. He gave them all an appraising eye until he caught sight of something that made him whistle in amazement. "Hello, beautiful!" He remarked.
Standing in the corner of the store was a mannequin displaying a set of armor, unlike anything Sebastian had ever seen before. It was heavy-looking, but also very sleek. The armor was black as a thousand midnights, inlaid with silver filigree engraved all over it. Also present was a one-handed sword, a dagger, and a bow all made of the same black material. "Not bad at all." Was all he had to say, taking in every inch of it.
"Like what you see?" A gruff voice asked. Sebastian turned to see a bear of a man standing behind the counter, wearing battered but well-kept iron armor, and a massive iron warhammer on his back. "That right there is my wife's crowning achievement. A full set of Ebony Armor, along with accompanying Ebony Weapons. They're always a beauty to look at. It's like holding a sliver of midnight in your hands." He smirked. "The name's Ulberth War-Bear. I'm Adrianne's husband. I run the counter here at Warmaiden's. Now don't let the name worry you, we've got plenty of steel for fighting men."
Sebastian just laughed. "The name doesn't bother me at all. I spoke to her outside just now. If she managed to forge all of this." He indicated to the Ebony Armor and weapons. "Then her skill as a craftsman is to be respected, and that name is very fitting for her."
"I see you're admiring my masterpiece." The woman in question entered, Phoebe right behind her. Adrianne had every reason to look proud. "Between the armor and weapons, it took me over a thousand hours to get it done, but it was so worth it!" She folded her arms, a knowing smile forming on her face. "You wouldn't by chance be interested in buying the set would you?"
The witcher just laughed. "That depends, how much do you want for it all? It doesn't look like it's cheap by any stretch."
It was now Ulberth's turn to snort. "The whole set will run you just short of 6400 gold Septims, that includes the weapons and arrows."
"Yeah, that doesn't just break the bank, it shatters it into a million little pieces. I'd be best served by sticking with basic steel and leather, thank you. Besides, while this Ebony Armor is certainly a true work of art, it looks very heavy. Meaning it wouldn't fit in with my particular combat style anyway. A witcher's method of battle is centered on speed and agility, and I don't want or need a lot of heavy armor slowing me down." He grew a little sheepish. "Besides which, I'm flat ass broke anyway."
Adrianne folded her arms, tapping her chin before she smiled. "Tell you what. I'll set you up with a set of armor and a sword, provided you do a couple of chores for me. The first one you can actually do right now." She produced a massive steel greatsword engraved with the logo of Whiterun, a horse, on it. "I forged this sword for Jarl Balgruuf. If you take this up to Dragonreach for me, I would consider that a huge favor. Just give it to his steward, Proventus Avenicci. He's my father."
Sebastian hefted the heavy blade. "It's no problem." Was his simple reply. Of all the jobs he had taken, the numerous contracts he had taken out. This would be by far the easiest. "I'll be back in a few minutes. You coming with me Phoebe?" The mage waved to the blacksmithing couple before hurried out the door. The two of them looked up at the massive edifice of the grand palace that sat atop the hill Whiterun was built upon. The spires reached out toward the heavens. "So that's where the Jarl of this hold lives?" The witcher asked the sorceress in training.
She nodded. "It's called Dragonsreach. It gained the name because long ago a mighty dragon named Numinex plagued this land. Olaf One-Eye, one of Skyrim's greatest heroes, challenged the beast to battle atop the peak of Mount Anthor, where he subdued the creature. He brought it back to Whiterun and kept it captive. After Numinex died, his skull was mounted above the throne, where it remains to this day."
"I suppose I'd pay the place a visit eventually." The witcher remarked, tugging at the sword on his back. "Come on, let's go make our delivery." The two then made it up the stairs back to the Wind District. A sudden breeze blew through, causing Phoebe's robes and braid to whip about. It gave her an ethereal air about her. Sebastian snuck an eye every so often as they continued up the steps. "Since you're apprentice to the Jarl's court mage, what can you tell me about him and his other advisors?"
Phoebe quickly rattled them off as they ascending the stairs to the keep. "Well, of course, there's Farengar Secret-Fire, my master. He can be a bit condescending at times, but he knows his craft well, and he taught me all I know about magic. Then there's Irileth, she's a Dark Elf who serves as the Jarl's Housecarl, his personal bodyguard if you will. Then there's Master Proventus, the Jarl's steward. He handles the day to day business of running the city. If you're looking for work, he's the man to ask. Not to mention if you're looking to buy a house, he'll set you up. Commander Caius runs the City Guard, not much to say about him besides that. And finally, there's Master Iskar Raging Winter. He's a ranger who's clan serves as guards on our northernmost border. For his services, the Jarl named him a Thane of the Hold, it's a very high honor."
"Sounds like a rather eclectic group," Sebastian remarked, as they reached the ornately carved doors of Dragonsreach, a pair of Hold Guards in golden-yellow tunics with a circular shield bearing the sigil of Whiterun Hold. The doors opened to a large room with a high, vaulted ceiling. A set of long tables were set up in a U-shape around a fire pit, and at the end of the room, a raised dais held the throne, where the royal court of Whiterun was conversing.
Jarl Balgruuf the Greater lounged upon the ornately carved wooden chair that served as the seat of his power. His tailored robes showing off the lean, muscled figure of a warrior. He had called all of his top advisors together to discuss a mounting problem. "The caravans have been complaining about the Stormcloaks harassing them again, My Lord." Proventus Avenicci, a tall dark-skinned man handed a roll of parchment to his master. "It's getting harder and hard to get fresh supplies into the city the longer the war rages on. I'm surprised the Stormcloaks haven't just seized the caravans for themselves."
"Don't give them any ideas, Proventus." Iskar Raging-Winter said. "I'm certain it would just be a matter of time before they did just that. Ulfric is no fool, and if he insists on following the old Nordic traditions, then he may be paying us a visit before too long with Galmar and the rest of his army at his back."
"He'll never get in the front door." Irileth snarled.
The aging Nord's response was to the crumple the paper up, chucking it into the fire pit. "He thinks that he's saving Skyrim with this whole little revolution of his. All he's doing is threatening to tear all of Skyrim apart. I've had to raise taxes twice since the civil war began. More than a few people in the city are starting to complain." Balgruuf sighed.
"Then perhaps it's time to consider picking a side, after all, My Lord?" Proventus spoke again, clearly uneasy about broaching the subject. "I think we can both agree the Empire isn't perfect, but the Thalmor are too big a threat. If they continue picking us apart like this, they'll gain control of the entire continent. No one will be able to oppose them, and then Skyrim is really in trouble. You know this as well as I do."
Balgruuf just sighed, this discussion was old hat to him. He really didn't want to listen to it again. The sound of the doors opening and the arrival of Phoebe and Sebastian brought the discussion to a halt, something he was very grateful for. She offered a formal bow to the Jarl. "Greetings to you, My Jarl. I trust your day is well?"
He just nodded slightly. "But of course, Phoebe. You are always a welcome sight here in the castle. I believe your master is looking for you." Balgruuf stood up, calling for his court mage. "Farengar, get out here, your apprentice has arrived with some company."
The man in question came out of his lab in the side room, looking quite flustered at having his work disrupted, but his expression softened when he saw Phoebe. The gentleman in hooded black robes spoke in a rich, educated voice. "Ah, Phoebe, I see you've finally returned."
Phoebe bowed low, "Yes Master Farengar, and I didn't come alone. This gentleman is Sebastian Connor, the man I've been attending to for the past few days." She was happy with her accomplishment. "He's feeling much better now."
"I'm not so sure about that. He looks rather pale if you ask me." Irileth remarked. Phoebe turned and saw Sebastian still rooted to his place, a look of pure astonishment on his face. "You may need to take him back to the temple, young one. I'd hate to see all your hard work go to waste."
"What's his problem?" Iskar asked in a deep raspy voice, a signature of his species. For Iskar was a lizard-man. A very tall lizardman at seven feet, two inches tall. Gray white scales covered his entire body, white feathery plumes coming off the back of his head, red warpaint covered his face. He wore basic steel armor, a large heavy looking, oak hunting bow six feet long with a quiver full of steel-tipped arrows slung on his back. The scaly tail flickered back and forth.
"Sebastian, say something!" Phoebe whispered, gently nudging him in the side. His lips parted, but he couldn't find the words. So all he could do was gape. The mage just sighed, dropping her foot on top of his own.
"Ow!" Sebastian hissed out, quickly ignoring the pain. He schooled his features into a relatively neutral expression, before offering a gracious bow, putting on all the charm he could. "As Miss Spring-Rain has said. My name is Sebastian Connor. I'm a Witcher of the Wolf School, a professional monster hunter if you will. I would like to apologize most to you, Lord Raging Winter, I've seen a lot in my line of work, but you're actually kind of a first for me."
"No offense taken, and just Iskar will be fine. You haven't ever seen an Argonian before?" Iskar asked.
Sebastian just cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair. "If you mean have I ever seen an over seven-foot-tall, bipedal talking lizard man. Then no I haven't. Although, I do recall studying about a race similar to this, but it's just stories from old books." Sebastian finally spoke, his brain still trying to process the sight in front of him.
Iskar just quirked a scaly brow. "A bipedal talking lizard man?" He snorted in amusement at this, and this caused a domino effect amongst the rest of the court. Phoebe covered her face to hide her light giggle. Irileth smirked a little, and even Balgruuf's weary lips twitched upwards. "Well, I've been called far worse in my lifetime. For all you know, I could be a dragon in mortal form."
"Should I be wary if you start breathing fire then?" Sebastian snarked, to which Iskar just laughed.
Irileth just huffed. "I believe you came here for something?"
"Ah yes, you're right about that." Sebastian took the steel greatsword off his back, holding it out to Proventus. "A gift to the Jarl from your daughter. Steward Avenicci." He offered a slight bow in the process. "She hopes he finds it to his liking."
Proventus chuckled, accepting the heavy blade. "That's my little war maiden, she always was so eager to please." He then presented the steel blade to Balgruuf. "What do you think, sire?" Balgruuf stood up, accepting the sword. He hefted the blade in hand, giving it a few experimental swings. Sebastian could tell the Jarl of Whiterun kept in shape.
The old warrior smirked as he caught sight of his reflection in the blade's service. "A fine weapon indeed, a more than worthy addition to my personal armory. See to it it's given a proper place, Proventus. Now as for you." He addressed Sebastian, who remained resolute under his commanding gaze. "Mr. Connor is it? Let me thank you for delivering it." He sat back down on his throne. "So you're a monster hunter?"
"That I am, My Lord. I know I don't look like much of one right now. I lost most of my gear during the trip here. I performed this little service for Adrianne to secure replacements. You wouldn't by chance have any monster infestations that need clearing out?"
The Jarl considered this for a second. "I don't believe so at the moment, but once we have something for you. I will be sure to send a messenger to find you. But I believe a small payment is due to you for your service." He nodded to Proventus who put a small leather pouch into Sebastian's hand, the familiar clinking sound of coins always a welcome sound to his ears.
"Twenty gold septims, a small but worthy payday." The steward replied.
"For a man with very little to his name at this point, it's a good start," Sebastian said, bowing deeply. "Thank you very much. If you need me, I'll be boarding at the Bannered Mare." He turned to Phoebe, taking hold of her hand. "And extra gratitude for all you've done over the past few days, Miss Spring-Rain. Thanks for being my guide about town, and I hope we can spend more time together." He gently kissed her hand, relishing the sight of her dazzling smile and blushing cheeks.
The Witcher sighed as he stepped out into the warm air. "Well, I suppose I should go and see Adrianne then." He strolled down the steps, taking in the sights of the city. He passed through the Wind District and was almost back to Warmaiden's when he ran into a tall, bald, dark-skinned man wearing very expensive clothing. "Watch where you're going!" The man spoke in a haughty demeanor. "I'm a very important advisor to the Jarl. Do you get to the Cloud District very often? Oh, what am I saying, of course, you don't."
"Uh, actually yes I do." Sebastian's words stopped the arrogant noble in his tracks. The man turned around to look at the Witcher with a disbelieving stare. "Considering I just came from there after speaking to Jarl Balgruuf and the rest of his court. I did a small favor for them, so they were quite grateful. They didn't seem to mention you at all."
"They must have been very busy then." The man said primly, straightening up his jacket while trying to regain his composure. "If you'll excuse me, I have to attend to my farm." He hurried off down the road at a hurried pace. Sebastian then heard the sound of slow clapping. He turned to see Adrianne standing there, wearing a very bemused grin.
"Wow, I think you just made the day of every citizen of Whiterun with that little maneuver of yours, Mr. Connor. I'm inclined to give you an extra discount just for giving me such a lovely treat. That was Nazeem, the town's resident busybody and brown-noser. He just loves going around acting better than everybody else. And for the record, he advises the Jarl on exactly nothing."
"Met plenty of people like him over the years." Sebastian let out a low chortle. "I always do enjoy taking them down a couple pegs. I came back to let you know that your sword was all the rage with the court. The Jarl and your father commend you for your hard work. I even got a little something out of the deal." He held up the coin pouch. "I have enough to get a room at the Bannered Mare for a couple of days."
"Very nice! You know how to get things done. I like that." Sebastian felt he had just made another new friend in this strange world he was now in. "Come inside with me, I got your new equipment all ready for you." They entered inside to find several pieces of armor, a shield, and a sword sitting on the counter. Ulberth was looking quite content, glad to have a new customer. Adrianne held out the sword "Here you go, a full set of steel armor, helmet, shield, gauntlets, boots, and breastplate. I just sharpened up the sword. You're all set."
"Go and try it on, let's see how it looks," Ulberth said. Sebastian nodded, taking his new gear and going into the back room. He came back out, sans the helmet and shield. "Yeah, looking fine!"
"Thank you. I left the shield and the helmet back there. As I said, Witcher combat centers around speed and maneuverability. So the shield is meaningless and the helmet would just obscure my vision. But the rest of this is better than that I thought. It doesn't affect my range of movement too much."
"Let's go out back and you try the sword out," Adrianne said. Ten minutes later, Sebastian swung his new blade around, letting Adrianne and Ulberth see what he meant. The honed edge of the blade sang as it cut through the air as its new master executed an elaborate series of ripostes and pirouettes. The Witcher moved with a fluid grace much like the animal he was named for. He finished with a final thrust before deftly sheathing the blade.
"That was a fine display of swordsmanship right there. It almost looked like a dance at times." Adrianne remarked.
"A lot of people say that. After a while, I really don't think about it all that much. It's just as natural as breathing to me." Sebastian said. "Let me just say again, Adrianne, you do really good work. So let me make a little business proposition for you. Do you take custom orders?"
She folded her arms. "I've done a few here and there. Is there anything specific you want?"
"Let me take on a few jobs first. Once I've got enough coin, then we'll talk about the fine details. I will say this though. I'll need you to make two swords for me. One basic steel and the other will be silver plated with a steel core." He yawned. "I'm going over to the inn and rent a room. Have a nice day."
(The Following Day)
Sebastian yawned as he awoke. His hand came up to hold his witcher medallion. "The last few days have certainly taken an interesting turn." He sat on the edge of the bed. "How could I have been so stupid as to let a Leshen blindside me like that? Mark would have never let me hear the end of it, not to mention Master Vesemir." He stopped at those words. "Master Vesemir, that's the reason why I'm in this whole mess, to begin with."
He got out of bed, the wooden floor panels creaked with each step. The smell of warm food wafted up from downstairs. He had rented a small loft room that let him see down to the main floor. "I guess breakfast is ready. Some good chow may be in order before I start looking for work." Blue eyes fell on the new armor and sword, sitting innocuously on the chest. Sebastian pulled on the armor, stomping the floor with his new boots before walking down to the common area.
"Ah, morning to you, Sebastian," Hulda said. The tavern owner had gladly allowed Sebastian a room at the inn. He had even chopped some firewood for her and gotten 30 more Septims for his troubles. "So are you going to set out on a quest today?"
"That's the plan. I can't earn coin just by chopping firewood now, can I?" This earned him a chuckle from the tavern owner. "You wouldn't by chance know of any monster nests that need to be cleared out? At this point, I'm not very picky."
She shook her head. "I'm afraid not, but I always keep my ears open for any local gossip. By the time you get back, something may crop up. So don't hesitate to ask." With nothing more to say, Sebastian departed the tavern. The sun warmed against the Witcher's face. The sound of his armor and sword clinking lightly with each step he took. He smiled a little, watching as some of the local kids ran by him, playing tag.
Sebastian passed through the marketplace leading up to the Wind District. He gave a slight nod to Carlotta Valentia, who ran the local food stand, usually, her daughter Mila was beside her, but she had decided to play tag with the aforementioned kids from earlier. He took a look at Jorrvaskr, contemplating going there and checking out the Companions. "Hey there Sebastian!" He turned to see Phoebe and Iskar coming down the steps from Dragonsreach. "We were just coming to get you."
"You were looking for work, tell me how this grabs you." Iskar rumbled. "There's been a bandit group plaguing the eastern part of the hold. We discovered their main camp and we're going to end their scourge once and for all. I know it's not the type of monster you normally hunt, but I think we can agree that thugs like this constitute such a threat?"
The Witcher just smirked. "Witchers are trained to deal with all kinds of monsters, even the ones that look human."
"Good, we'll be escorted by a contingent of hold guards, along with a few members of my own clan. It should be more than enough to deal with scum like this." Iskar's tail smacked against the cobblestones. Sebastian fell into step with the others, making their way out of the city. Where a squad of a half-dozen guards in the gold tabard stood, also present were a trio of Argonians, their scales glistening in the morning sun.
One of the lizard-people was clearly female, with pink scales that had an iridescent sheen in the sunlight. She looked right at Sebastian for a minute. Before she sauntered up to the trio, offering a salute to Iskar, a gesture mirrored by the others. "Hail Master Iskar. All preparations for the raid have been finalized. We're ready to put those bandits away for good!"
"That's wonderful to hear, Lacrima." Iskar turned to Sebastian. "This is Lacrima Raging-Winter, one of my most capable clansmen. A master at getting in and out of places she really shouldn't go, but I would be lying if I said her skills hadn't kept the Hold from falling into chaos more than once. Lacrima this is Sebastian Connor, he's a Witcher, right?" He looked to Sebastian who just nodded in acknowledgment. "He's agreed to help us deal with our bandit problem."
Her tongue flicked out a couple of times. "Hmm, he has a very interesting scent about him. Certainly differently from most other land-striders I've met." Lacrima's eyes flickered, revealing the nictitating membrane that covered her eyes. So tell me, Monster Hunter, What kind of monsters do you hunt?"
"All kinds truthfully." He replied. "Whether it be something incredible like a griffin or a lesion, or even just common thugs like we're after. It's just a matter of what we've been contracted to hunt." Sebastian drew his new sword, taking in the Nordic runes on the crossguard. "I'll admit I'm eager to test out my new blade."
Lacrima nodded. "Indeed, Adrianne has always been good to us. She sharpened my blades just last week in fact." She indicated to the one-handed war axe hanging at her belt and sheathed twin daggers on her calves. A thin, serpentine smirk began forming. "There's always something satisfying about hacking through a lowlife scumbag's neck, and it doesn't matter if they're man, mer, or beast! Bandits, especially rapists, are the worst kind of scum, and deserve the darkest plane of Oblivion for their crimes."
Sebastian just smirked, holding his steel sword up to his face. "You would like my master's wife then, Lacrima. She doesn't like those who force themselves on women either. And being she's a very powerful mage." He flipped it over, letting the Argonian's reflection show in the blade. "They usually get a far worse fate." This got a nod of approval from Phoebe, and another tongue flick from Lacrima. "So where are these bandits exactly?"
"Fort Greymoor, the place has been abandoned for years." There was no hiding the disgust in Iskar's voice. "The rotten bastards moved right in, squatting there for months. Once we clear the place out, a few hold guards and some of my own people will move in and keep any other potential squatters from occupying it."
"So how exactly did you come to be a Thane of the Whiterun Court?" Sebastian asked the big lizard, wanting to learn more about his companions.
"It all goes back to the earliest days of my clan. The first Raging-Winters were a group of six former slaves that escaped from Morrowind almost two centuries ago. My great grandfather, five times removed, swore fealty to the ruling Jarl of Whiterun at that time. He let us build a settlement in the northernmost reaches of the hold, and in exchange, the Frost Scales would protect Whiterun's northern borders. The Jarl made him a Thane, and the title has passed down through the generations of clan leaders, eventually falling on myself."
Iskar clearly took great pride in his status, but Sebastian could also see he took it very seriously. "The Raging-Winter Clan now stands at three hundred strong. There are a few other clans scattered across the province. A few came from our native land of Black Marsh, but most of them branched off of us. But at the end of the day, we all consider ourselves sons and daughters of Skyrim. Even if others don't feel that way." Iskar hissed at the end.
"Someone has a different opinion?" Sebastian asked, taking note of how Iskar's tail whipped about.
"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Eastmarch Hold," Phoebe answered for Iskar, who simply flicked his tongue out in disgust at the name. "Since Skyrim was originally home to the Nordic people, he believes it should only be for the Nords. An opinion many in Skyrim share. Six months ago, Ulfric went straight to the Blue Palace in Solitude, Skyrim's capital. He challenged Torygg, the High King of Skyrim, to a duel and killed him. The entire province has been ripped in half by civil war since then. The Third Empire based out of Cyrodil against the Stormcloak Rebellion."
"It's been a nasty affair. The body count is high, on both sides." Iskar noted with melancholy. "The holds are split between the two warring factions. The holds to the east support Ulfric, who believe the Nordic way of life is threatened, and the holds in the west support the Empire. If I may anticipate your next question, Jarl Balgruuf himself has strived to stay neutral in the conflict, but I fear he won't be able to stay that way much longer."
"If it came down to it, which side would he support?" Sebastian asked.
"I believe he would pull for the Empire. Many in the court feel that way as well, myself included. I've doubled patrols along the northeastern border with the Pale hold since Dawnstar supports Windhelm." Iskar said. "I've heard some of Ulfric's proclamations on what he'll do once he's become the new High King, and they are simply ludicrous. He's so busy fighting the Empire, he doesn't realize it's exactly what the Thalmor want!"
Sebastian said nothing more but decided to file away everything the ranger and mage had said, swearing to look deeper into the politics of this new land. The war party departed Whiterun City, making their way west toward Fort Greymoor. It took a day and a half to reach the massive stronghold, the raiding party took cover behind a rocky outcropping, taking the chance to do some preliminary reconnaissance before making their attack. He took note of the sentry archers manning the walls.
"What do you make of the situation, Master Witcher?" Iskar asked.
"Hmm, crumbling walls, piles of stone and timber lying everywhere, truthfully it makes me think of home." Already images of Kaer Morhen, the fortress the Wolf School operated out of, came to his mind. This earned him an annoyed glare from the lizard man. "Jokes aside, the bandits have gone to great lengths to fortify their position, had plenty of time to do it as well. Those archers are going to give us a very bad day if we don't neutralize them first. Do we know what kind of numbers they have?"
"We don't have an exact number, but we estimate at least about a dozen, fifteen to nineteen people at maximum," Lacrima said, her people having scouted out the fort a few days prior. "They may even have a couple of mages in their ranks, although they pale in comparison to the likes of you Phoebe." The mage in question started blushing. She clutched the pair of staves, carved to resemble dragons, a little bit tighter. "Not to mention their leader is a fairly adept swordsman."
"So to summarize we're outnumbered two to one, they may have magical backup, and their leader actually knows what he's doing. Although this is hardly the worst bandit problem I've ever dealt with." Sebastian smirked, a plan beginning to form. "Bandits are pretty common no matter where you go in this world, so I have to imagine they operate the same way a lot of gangs do. If they're not looting and attacking villages, odds are they're probably spending all their time stuffing their faces and getting drunk off their asses. So they're not going to be the most attentive."
"All too true, if they're not on guard duty, the lot of them are probably just laying around in puddles of their own piss, and surrounded by piles of their own shit." Iskar was also starting to come up with a battle plan in his head. "We'll wait until nightfall, let them get nice and hammered, and then we drop the heavy end of the warhammer on these guys."
"I can sneak into the fortress and do some extra reconnaissance while we wait," Lacrima said.
"Make sure it's for reconnaissance only, Lacrima. No 'thinning out their ranks' like what you did last time, remember?" Iskar said pointedly. Sebastian wasn't sure if a lizard could blush, but it seemed her pink scales got a little bit lighter.
"It was only that one time!" Lacrima protested, her tail thrashing about before she slunk off down onto the plains surrounding the fortress.
"What's the possibility of her being caught?" Sebastian asked.
"Lacrima is one of our best scouts. Although I would be lying if I said she doesn't always follow her better judgment at times. We were asked by the Jarl of Falkreath Hold, our neighbor to the south, for help with a sizable bandit problem, nearly a hundred. She was supposed to scout out the place only but decided to kill a few of them to make our job a little bit easier. Unfortunately, the sentries were quite attentive and before long the entire stronghold was on alert. Lacrima barely made it out alive."
The Witcher just shrugged. "Every group has a hothead. One of my fellow Witchers, a guy named Lambert, he was always quick to go off." He sighed. "I hope she can keep it together."
"She will," Phoebe reassured him. Sebastian said nothing more, simply dropping to his knees, bowing his head slightly. "What are you doing?" The blue-haired mage asked.
"Since we won't be attacking until nightfall, I suppose the best I can do now is meditate. I always do it before a big job, whether it's clearing bandits or taking down a powerful monster. It helps clear the mind and keeps my senses sharp." He explained. This seemed to placate her for the moment. Iskar also seemed to think it was a good idea. He sat down on a rock, letting his eyes grow heavy, the sound of light hissing coming from him.
(Later That Night)
It had been a good day for the men of the Scar Wolf bandit clan. They had just finished sacked a few of the villages in the neighboring holds before coming back with a bevy of loot, gold, food, and of course women, all currently enjoying premier guest accommodations in the dungeons. Except for the select few on sentry duty, everyone else was either in the keep or down in the courtyard, enjoying the many barrels of Honingbrew and Black-briar Mead they had nicked from passing caravans.
Anguished cries could also be heard as the Scar Wolves helped themselves to some of their prizes of the flesh. Many of the girls, no older than eighteen had been seized to provide "entertainment" to the bandits, wearing little more than tattered rags. They would be used up and then killed, their bodies were thrown into the depths of a barrow to become food for the Draugr, or just left on the plains where their bones would bleach in the sun.
The night was still young, as one of the bandits pulled one of the girls by the arm out of the compound to have his way with her. The poor child was terrified, struggling to break free. "Please, let me go!" She pleaded, only to be rewarded with a hard backhand across the face.
"Shut up you little bitch! You belong to me tonight." The bandit sneered, revealing his yellowed, cracked teeth as he tightened his grip on her arm. The girl just sobbed harder, silently praying to the Divines, even Talos, that her ordeal wouldn't be too painful or long. He dragged the poor girl onto the stark plains of Whiterun Hold. It was a clear night, the stars and the two moons were all overhead. It would have been a beautiful sight if not for the gruesome ceremony about to unfold.
The bandit ripped the few scraps of clothing the girl wore, leaving her totally exposed. Her sobs grew louder and more terrified as he began undoing his pants. The girl closed her eyes, waiting for her fate. Only nothing happened. She could hear a gurgling sound, she opened a single eye, and gasped when she saw the arrow embedded in his gaunt neck. He stumbled about, before falling backwards dead. She heard footsteps approaching.
"Oh, dear!" Tears formed in the village girl's eyes as Phoebe approached her, followed by Sebastian and Iskar, bow still in hand. The mage removed her dark blue cloak, draping it over her shoulders. Overwhelmed, the girl broke into tears as Phoebe embraced the poor victim. Tears forming in her own eyes. "Don't worry, everything's going to be okay." She whispered to her fellow woman. She looked to the men, her tears being replaced by silent rage. "We have to go, now!"
Iskar just nodded. "We'll take her back to the staging point." He turned to the two clansmen who had accompanied him, indicated the now dead bandit. "Dispose of this waste of skin, but be discrete about it. I don't want to tip off this guy's buddies. Prepare to move out in ten minutes."
"Of course, sir!" The Argonians grabbed the body, dragging it off to where no one could see it. Sebastian wondered if they were going to eat it, but quickly banished the thought, he had seen weirder things in his Witcher career after all. He then looked to where Phoebe was tending to their guest, she looked to him and they shared a slight nod. Sebastian went to check his gear once more time.
The raiding party made its way toward Fort Greymoor, moving in twin columns. Sebastian looked over to Phoebe, the quiet fury still present, the grip on her two staves tighter than ever before. He knew exactly what the source of her rage was. "You going to be okay?" He whispered. "I can only imagine how you feel at seeing how your fellow woman has been treated, but we still have a mission to perform."
"I'll be fine." Was her cool response. "I'm just going to introduce these fine gentlemen to my friends here." She indicated to her staves. "I hope they enjoy being flash-frozen before I burn them to a crisp!" Sebastian suddenly got flashes of another woman with raven black hair, wearing black and white, walking with purpose as lightning danced on delicate fingertips.
Everyone spread out, Iskar and his fellow Argonians had their bows out, arrows already nocked. Phoebe had one of her staves ready, the other, embedded in the ground for the moment. Sebastian drew his own sword, the hold guards were tense, but kept a professional air about them
"Lady Phoebe, you should have the honors." Iskar gestured for the mage to strike the first blow. The mage raised her staff, emanating a blue glow. A thin shard of ice began forming over it. He just gave a nod, Phoebe swung her staff, the ice projectile lanced out, hitting the first man in a very sensitive area, before an arrow from Iskar's massive bow finished him off. Phoebe was quick on the draw, promptly neutering the sentries, while the Argonians dropped them, arrows finding their marks in throats and even in the eye.
"Everyone move up!" Sebastian ordered the guards, making their way toward the entrance. He held up a clenched fist, indicating them to stop. Sebastian could see the two bandits standing at the entrance. "Wait here, I can handle this." The lead guard nodded, all curious to see this mysterious warrior in action. the Witcher was crouched low, moving with slow, deliberate steps. His sword held at the ready. He then reached down to grab a small rock.
Faster than any could blink, he slung the rock, letting it hit on the wall. The bandits turned to see what the disturbance was. Sebastian snuck up behind one of them, plunging the steel blade through the man's thin hide armor, he could only let out a gurgling cry before the Witcher covered his mouth.
"What the?" The other guard said before he found himself flung back, his body slamming into the wall. Sebastian rushed forward, burying his blade into the bandit's neck. He idly flicked the blood off the blade. The Hold Guards gave muted approval. He just nodded and they slowly lined up along the wall for the assault.
Sebastian peeked around the corner, taking in the mad, drunken revelry. Most of these guys were three and a few were even five sheets to the wind. Still, the raiding party had the element of surprise on their side. None of them had noticed the sentries killed by the arrows. They could down a fair number of the bandits before they could muster an effective defense.
A couple of the bandits stumbled by the entrance, barely able to hold themselves upright. Sebastian looked to the guards. "Time to work for a living, boys!" He said, there was only the sound of hardened steel cutting through flesh and a spray of blood along the stone battlements of the fort.
The second bandit met his end on the end of one of the guard's swords. Another guard ran through a third, while a fourth had his throat slashed open. "Leave none of them standing!" Sebastian ordered as he decapitated another of the bandits. Several of them were starting to shake off their drunken stupor, going for swords, daggers, broken bottles, or anything they could get their hands on. One of them rushed Sebastian, who deftly sidestepped the bandit, bringing his sword down through the bad guy's wrists, before impaling him in the chest.
The Hold Guards were acquitting themselves well against the Scar Wolf bandits. Caius wasn't the type to let his men sit around and get drunk when on duty. And most of the bandits weren't the best warriors anyway, they were too used to roughing up villagers and attacking helpless travelers. Someone who could put up a fight against them was a bit much for them, as one Guard wasn't intimidated by a bandit's pathetic display, and instead buried his blade into the thug's gut. Another was providing covering fire, dropping a bandit who was about to kill his comrade with a well-placed arrow shot.
By this point, Phoebe, Iskar, and his people had entered the fray themselves. Phoebe held both staves in hand. She gave the one in her right hand a subtle wave, flames starting dancing on the end, before she pointed at a group of bandits, sending a pulsing ball of flame at them. The bandits screaming in agony as the flames burned all of them.
Phoebe raised her other staff, conjuring up another ice javelin, hurling into the chest of another bandit. "I'm going to cut up your pretty little mage flesh!" Another bandit snarled, rushing at Phoebe with dagger drawn. Only for her to gracefully spin about, smacking her Staff of Ice Spike into the thug's face, knocking him back. Lacrima's steel war axe finished the job, cleaving his head off.
"And that's why angering Phoebe is a bad idea!" Iskar called out as he felled another bandit with an arrow straight through his heart. Sebastian silently agreed with that thought even as Phoebe continued dealing out death in both frozen and flame flavors. One of the guards took a couple of arrows to the shoulder and stomach.
"Hang on!" Phoebe said, running over to the fallen guard, planting her staves in the ground. She quickly removed the arrows from the guard, a faint glow emanated from her hands, as she began healing the downed soldier. Even with his wounds healed, he made it a point to hang back, taking up a bow to provide covering fire for the rest of the raiders
"How many of these guys do you think we've killed by this point?" Iskar called over to Sebastian, who had just impaled a Breton bandit.
"Hard to tell, after a while they all run together! But I'd estimate at least a third of them!" Sebastian said.
It was then the door opened, and a trio of slight individuals came out of a side door. Sebastian took notice of the pointed ears, indicating they were elves. "What's all the racket out here?" the center elf called out. It took a moment for them to realize that their fellow bandits were being slaughtered. "It's the Hold Guards!" One of them produced a bow, while another produced a dagger, and he began shooting out lightning.
The lead elf drew a sword, unlike the iron and steel blades the human bandits were using. It possessed a broad double-edged blade with a bronze sheen to it. The crossguard was small with a pair of wings, and metal striping on both sides.
"Who are those guys?" Sebastian called out, dodging lightning strikes as he held up his hand, shooting a telekinetic blast at the dagger and magic-wielding elf, who had coated himself with shield spell, which negated the witcher's own spell.
"Bosmer, Wood Elves! They hail from a place called Valenwood! They're superb archers!" A guard responded, taking an arrow on his shield while taking out one of the human bandits. "Not as bad as Dark Elves or worse, High Elves." He bit out that last one. "But still a colossal pain in the ass!"
"I guess these guys can hold their liquor a little better than their buddies, huh?" Sebastian said as he parried the sword-wielding Wood Elf's strike. He spun around, coming in inches of being hit. Iskar noticed a golden-orange wave of energy washed over him, a small mote of light circling around him. The elf came back, the blade then struck a shield which sent him reeling back.
Sebastian came down for an overhead strike, but the elf blocked at the last minute. "You're dead!" The elf sneered, his sword coming down to bisect Sebastian diagonally, only for it to connect with a glowing shield that fragmented outward, sending the elf reeling back, leaving him open for Sebastian to impale the man in the face.
"No, you're dead!" The Witcher quipped, watching as the elf slumped to the ground, dead. He picked up the elven sword, regarding it for a minute. "My first trophy of the night!" He made a slight hand gesture, reinforcing his shield from earlier. Sebastian saw the Wood Elf mage attack Phoebe, but she again knocked him away with one of her staves, before conjuring up a shield of her own, taking the form of a flat white shield, to defend against the lightning strike.
"So you want to play with lightning?" Phoebe said, throwing her staff of Fireball in the air. "Be my guest!" She held her hand up, and lightning bolts much larger and stronger lanced out. The Wood Elf was entangled by the crackling bolts of energy, his body convulsing as he screamed in agony. She finished her barrage, grabbing both staves, shooting out a fireball, and an ice spike simultaneously. The elf was engulfed in flames, screaming in pain before he was silence by the icy projectile embedded in his heart.
Sebastian just looked on in approval as the burned corpse collapsed to the ground. "Nice little move."
Phoebe just primly readjusted her royal blue robes. "I call it my Delta Storm attack. Nothing like getting electrocuted, burned and frozen all at once. And those weren't even my strongest spells."
The Witcher just let out a muted chortle, earning a questioning gaze from the mage. "If I ever get a chance, Phoebe. I definitely need to introduce you to my foster mother, Triss Merigold, and aunt, Yennfer of Vanderberg. They would love you, especially my Aunt Yen." Sebastian then grabbed Phoebe around her slender waist, throwing up his shield as an arrow from the last Bosmer bounced off, the shield cracked and broke.
Sebastian stared the Wood Elf archer down, who had already nocked another arrow in his bow. Only for a steel arrow to embed itself in his forehead. The elf stumbled a minute, before collapsing down dead. Iskar stood there, bow in hand. "Nice shot." The Witcher said, helping Phoebe to her feet.
"Phoebe, Lacrima, head to the dungeons, I'm certain those poor girls are going to need medical attention, not to mention a friendly face. Master Connor, Let's get into the keep, I'm sure the leader of this band of reprobates is not going to just give up willingly." Iskar said. The quartet split up, Phoebe leading the remaining guards to the dungeon, while Sebastian and Iskar went to the main door of the keep, A double-kick from both men knocked it open quite easily.
"Oh, so it's time for another changeover then?" They were not ready to be greeted by an elderly woman sweeping the floor. She sounded almost bored as she gathered all the dust in the corner. "Just try not to track in mud when you're finished with whatever activities you're doing."
"Uh, who are you?" Sebastian asked.
"I'm Agnis, I guess you could say I'm the keeper of Fort Greymoor." She again seemed undisturbed by the sounds of fighting still going on out in the yard, as her broom cleared out a large pile of dust. "I cook and clean, so be guaranteed you'll at least have warm food and fresh sheets on your beds. If you have problems, I'm afraid you're out of luck. I come with the place."
"You do know what's happening outside right now, don't you?" Sebastian asked.
"My dear, I've seen this place change hands literally within a day. I woke up one morning and the place was occupied by Orcs, and when I went to bed and it had been taken over by vampires. It doesn't matter to me who runs the show here. They should just be grateful they have someone to pick up after them. These Scar Wolves are some of the worst slobs I've ever seen, and that's saying something."
Iskar began to catch on. "I can assure you that your new tenants won't be half as messy. The Whiterun Hold guards are much more disciplined than the common rabble you're probably used to. We're looking for the leader of this current batch. Can you tell us where he is?"
"He's probably upstairs, getting drunk as always. I honestly marvel how he can function." Agnis shrugged, going back to her cleaning. The Witcher and the Ranger made for the wide spiral staircase that led up to the fort commander's quarters. It wasn't long before they came upon their first opposition, a trio of heavily tattooed Nords wearing little more than stitched together animal hide armor wielding iron swords.
"Uh, you got something besides that bow of yours?" Sebastian asked, drawing his steel blade. "I don't think it's going to do much good in tight quarters like this." His response came as the Argonian flicked his wrists, and a pair of steel daggers, decorated with much of the same engravings the witcher's sword possessed slid into his hands. They caught the light of the torches illuminating the walls and the very sharp edge they contained. "That will work."
"You aren't going any further!" The lead guard said in a thick accent. Both Sebastian and Iskar just looked to each other, clearly unimpressed by their intimidation.
"Do you mind if I take point on this one? No point in both of us exerting ourselves before taking on the leader." Iskar asked, bringing his blades up in a guarding position, holding them toward his hands. Sebastian just shrugged, resting his blade on his shoulder, watching Iskar crouch for a second before rushing at the three bandits. He had seen what the big lizard could do at range, now he could see him up close.
The lead mook clumsily swung his blade, only for Iskar to easily duck underneath it, spinning quickly. The blade found its mark, raking across the thug's abdomen, blood beginning to pour out. The coup de grace came as Iskar's second blade found its mark, plunging into the thug's neck before he slumped to the ground dead.
"Why you!" The second bandit snarled, fumbling with a crossbow, struggling to load the quarrel into the weapon. Iskar's nictitating membrane flickered once. He just stood there, letting him finally get his weapon ready. The bandit brought his weapon up, but his target had already gotten in his face. The bandit could only gaze into Iskar's hard yellow eyes, his tongue flickered out.
"Why I what?" He quipped, before whipping around, letting him have a taste of his tail, there was a glint of steel as one of Iskar's daggers was embedded in the man's throat. He gurgled, stumbling about a few seconds before falling dead. Iskar casually retrieved his weapon. The last guard ran at Iskar in a blind rage. Only to be knocked over suddenly, flying down the stairs, breaking his neck upon hitting the bottom. Iskar saw Sebastian, hand outstretched.
"Just trying to get this over with." He said. The two soon made it to the top floor of the keep. Sebastian raised his hand again, the door shattered into countless shards and splinters, revealing the leader of the Scar Wolves. A tall, muscular looking Nord wearing full steel plate armor, lounging in a wooden chair. A beard that could have been blonde, but it was hard to tell with how tangled and matted it was, a stark contrast to his fully bald head, raked with scars. A sheathed one-handed sword dangling from his hip.
"So, our esteemed Jarl sends his pet lizard after me? I suppose I should feel honored." The man sounded almost bored. He casually gazed out the window, hearing as the last of the bandits were silenced. "It sounds like you've taken care of my boys in short order. No matter, there's always guys like them around. I'll just have to rebuild after I'm done with you."
"You think we're going to let you rebuild?" Iskar rasped, his tongue flicking out as his tail lashed back and forth. "You've terrorized the hold long enough! Either submit now or end up like the rest of your cohorts!"
The bandit leader let out a hollow laugh as he stood up, the chair falling to the ground with a large wooden thunk. "You really think I, Olaf Scar-Skull, am going to submit? Think again! I'll make you eat steel!" He drew the blade, which made Iskar hiss in surprise.
"A Nordic Steel Sword. Where did he get a weapon like that?" He saw Sebastian's questioning glance. "Nordic Steel said to be as strong as the Skyforge Steel weapons the Companions wield. It's even a match for Elven blades." He indicated to the sword hanging from the Witcher's belt. Sebastian said nothing, just bringing out his own blade. Iskar's daggers were already out as Olaf was on them in a second. Iskar stepped in front of his comrade, catching the sword between his daggers. Olaf snarled, going a powerful backhand slash. A slight flash wrapped over Iskar's entire body, encasing him a pale green light.
"What are you doing?" Sebastian asked. Iskar just grunted, keeping Olaf's blade locked up with his daggers, Steel edge scraping against steel edge as Olaf continued to push his offense. But the bandit leader wasn't letting up any time soon.
"Let me do the heavy lifting on this one. Just see if you can flank him!" He grunted, forced to break the lock. The razor-sharp edge came around again, getting Iskar across the torso, but the green flash broke, and Sebastian realized this was one of the "Mage Flesh" spells Phoebe had mentioned on the route to Fort Greymoor, used in lieu of armor by various mages. Iskar seemed unperturbed, as he wore the same kind of steel armor Sebastian was currently wearing.
Despite his ridiculous last name, their opponent proved to have some legitimate fighting skill. Olaf was able to easily fight two against one. And amazingly his speed and agility were nearly equal to the Witcher's. Sebastian just barely avoided ducking under the curved edge of Olaf's blade. He tried to get the bandit chief from behind, right across the back of his neck, but Olaf's senses were razor-sharp, and he was able to block the incoming attack. "You think you can stop the Scarred Wolf with such a cheap move?" He sneered.
Iskar flipped his daggers into a reverse grip knocking away Olaf's sword with the right, before going in to quickly attack with the left. Olaf raised his arm, letting the blade clang off the armored gauntlet. The bandit then balled up his fist, clocking Iskar square in the face, sending him flying across the room. Olaf then rushed the Witcher, their blades scraping against each other.
"This is starting to annoy me!" Sebastian raised a hand. "Let's see how you deal with this!" A wave of fire burst out. Olaf let out a yelp, trying to avoid getting burned to a crisp. Only for him to follow that up with another telekinetic burst, trying to knock the man off his feet, but he was able to avoid the worst of it.
Olaf spat in contempt. "Of course you would be desperate enough to pull out the magic!" He swung in a wide horizontal arc, only for Iskar to slip in, catching the sword on his right dagger, before hitting the man with a powerful spin back kick. Olaf was sent back against the wall, but still plenty of fight in him. "Just goes to show there's only one true Nord here today!"
Sebastian just parried Olaf's diagonal swing, tossing out another quick burst of fire. While Iskar swept in, going for a powerful X-slash, managing to leave long scratch marks along his steel plate armor. "Considering my comrade's a giant walking lizard and I'm not even from around here, you don't have a lot of ground to stand on!" Sebastian shot back, lunging forward with a vertical slash upwards, his blade producing a shrill twang as it collided with Olaf's, who smirked, a meaty fist flying right at the Witcher's face. He twisted his body to the side, managing to avoid getting clocked in the jaw as Isker had earlier.
Iskar let out a low snarl, sliding his blades into a reverse grip, his tongue flickering out as he tried to stab the bandit leader with his left dagger, managing to take another chink out of Olaf's chest plate, but the chieftain got it back by taking a good-sized chunk out of the armor on Iskar's right hip. Only for Sebastian to come in from the right, forgoing the sword for a full out bodycheck, knocking the bandit leader off his feet, at last, his sword flying out of his hand.
This was the opening the Argonian was waiting for, he flipped his daggers up, stabbing Olaf in the armpits, causing him to cry out in pain and shock. His arms going limp as his sword fell from his fingers. He fell to his knees, gasping as he began coughing up blood, before falling on his back. Sebastian then looked down at him.
"As much of a fight as you put up. At the end of the day, you're no wolf." Sebastian said, flipping his blade downward. "You're just a wild dog acting like one!" A single deft thrust and the rampage of Olaf Scar-Head came to an end. Sebastian then picked up the dead bandit's sword, taking it in. It had a curved, single-edged blade with a series of runic carvings along the length of the sword.
"And to the winner goes the spoils. I think you could make use of that far better than its former owner." Iskar said. Sebastian just smirked, adding the Nordic Steel Sword alongside the Elven Sword he had taken earlier.
"At the very least I can hang it on the wall." Sebastian took note of the pile of documents on the desk. "Our former friend was an intellectual it seems. Let's see if there's anything of value here worth looking at." He sat down, rifling through the various papers, before digging out a small leather-bound book. "A journal of some kind?" He opened it up, beginning to page through it.
"Anything of note?" Iskar asked.
"Most of the entries are similar in scope, talking about their latest raid, and what loot they made off with. The women they captured." The witcher frowned at that last one. "It turns my stomach just reading how casually they violate these women, cast them aside, and start the whole process over again."
Iskar nodded. "There's a special plane of Oblivion just for scum like that. I'm hoping the Daedra take extra pleasure in tormenting them." Sebastian said nothing, instead just going through the journal. He cocked his head a little when reading the page. "You find something?" The ranger asked.
"Yeah, I'm reading the second to last entry. It seems a few of Olaf's boys raided an old tomb on Skyrim's far eastern border. It's where they found these writings about a Dragon Cult of some kind. Do you know what it is?"
"Just stories, how long ago when Dragons ruled Skyrim that a small group of people worshiped them as gods. But that's about it. We should take the journal and the rest of this documentation back to Whiterun with us. I'm sure Master Farengar would be able to dig up more detail about it."
"That's a good idea." Sebastian began gathering up everything. "Let me ask you a question, What are you going to do with the rest of the bandits' weapons?"
"You looking to collect some more trophies?"
"Not quite," Sebastian leaned in toward Iskar. "Truth is, the lifestyle of a Witcher isn't the most glamorous, or profitable. We have to live contract to contract. If I ever had to clear out a bandit hideout or even a full out hanse." He cringed at the memory of the last time he took on such an assignment, having barely made it out alive. "I would collect as many of their weapons as possible and sell them at the local blacksmith. It wasn't much, but any extra coin is welcome. I was hoping to sell the lot off to Adrianne, put it toward paying off my current gear, and saving up for that custom job I want from her."
"If that's the case, then take what you want. Adrianne and Ulberth could melt it all down into ingots and that could give you a starting point. They may even give you a discount for bringing them the raw materials. Let's get out of here and check on Phoebe and Lacrima. I'm sure they've rounded up any captives by now." Sebastian nodded and the two men departed from the keep. The body of Olaf would be picked up by Iskar's people once they had moved in.
Upon arriving in the courtyard, they found about a dozen young women, ranging in age from mid-twenties all the way down what seemed to be twelve, the younger ones were crying. All were wrapped in blankets, looking haggard, but grateful. Phoebe was working diligently, but her countenance was sad. Even if her healing magic could remove the physical injuries. The mental and emotional trauma would never fully go away. She looked to Sebastian, his armor coated in blood and sweat from the battle. "I'm going to assume you took out the bandit leader?" she asked,
The Witcher nodded soberly. "Yeah, he won't be plaguing anyone ever again. A sword to the face is pretty final in that regard." He said, holding out the bundle of documents to her. "A little something we found in the boss's room. Not sure if it contains anything of value, but I've learned to never discount anything." He then looked to the women. "They going to survive this ordeal?"
Phoebe sighed, "I don't have a definitive answer for that. We found five down in the cells, all dead. But at least we can keep them from enduring this trauma any further." Sebastian reached out, putting his hand on her shoulder, causing her to start blushing. "W-we should probably get back to Whiterun."
"Agreed," Iskar said. "Lacrima, send word to Windstad. I want a full contingent here within forty-eight hours. I'm not going to let those damn bandits move back in." The pink scaled Argonian gave a deft nod, before heading off over the hills. He then directed his attention to freed prisoners. "Let's take these ladies back to the city so they can get cleaned up, after that we'll see about getting you all home." This brought about tears of joy, finally, their nightmare was over.
Sebastian said nothing, simply going about the bodies of the dead bandits, picking up as many swords and daggers and other weapons he could carry. Hopefully, this would be enough for Adrianne to produce what he wanted. If not, then he'd just need to pick up a few more jobs. He wasn't sure if he could return home, but if not, Skyrim clearly had plenty of work for a Witcher like him.
Author's Notes: And so I take my first step into the realm of Elder Scrolls and Witcher fan fiction. I had never played any games from either franchise until I picked up Skyrim at the behest of my brother in law, and my friend and writing associate, Centurious the Azure is a huge Witcher fan, so I figured I would try the Wild Hunt. Suffice to say both games blew me away, well deserved of their reputations and all the accolades they have acquired. I hope this gets a few readers, so stay tuned.