The Man Behind the Mask

The Blood. The Screams.

Velkric winced.

The face of the man, the thing, that took everything from him.

Sweat dampened his forehead. His expression tightened again, his brow furrowing and teeth clenched.

That weapon. That horrible creation of steel. A gleaming silver, yet drenched in red.

His breathing quickened. His hands began to twitch involuntarily.

The eyes.

Velkric grunted in anger and fear, quickly sitting up and raising a fist. His breathing was laboured and his skin was sweaty. However, as he scanned the room around him, he forced himself to calm down.

Not again. He had lost too much sleep to terrors like this. He put his head into his hands and shuddered a little. After 19 years, it's still no easier…

Casting aside these thoughts (an action he'd practiced many times before), he rose from his bed and stretched, feeling his bones click satisfyingly, accompanied by easier movement.

"Are you up Velkric?" a familiar voice asked from the other side of his closed door. Vekric sighed.

"Yes, finally. What time is it?" He didn't have high hopes for the answer.

"Just before noon," the voice replied. "It seems your nightly escapade took a bit out of you. You normally don't sleep for this long."

"I was busy." Velkric began getting dressed, now accustomed to the prospect of being awake for the day.

"From the brief report you gave me, you sounded thrilled about your activities."

"I've had my eye on him for a while, it was satisfying." The edge in his voice didn't surprise him. He hadn't planned on beating up Rolff Stone-Fist that night, but events had played out how they played out, and now that racist prick would be walking with a limp for the next few days.

"That's what worries me sir. The satisfaction I mean. No doubt the man had it coming." In response to these words, Velkric opened the door, being greeted with the face of his old friend and faithful butler Haldir (technically servant, but they disliked such a term).

"People say you should find joy in what you do" he replied, nodding at him as he walked out of his room.

"Most people don't refer to vigilantism when they say that'' Haldir muttered, following him down the passage and down the stairs. Velkric pretended not to hear him.

"So, what's the plan for today?" he asked, walking into the dining room and taking a seat at the table. Haldir, ever the faithful butler, had prepared some breakfast (or in this case, a slightly early lunch).

"Well sir, that really depends on you. You've got no meetings scheduled, no appointments, nothing that needs doing around the house, or this one anyway. There's been no messages from anybody either. You've a free afternoon" Haldir replied, sitting down opposite him. Velkric's lips twitched upwards at that.

Three months back in Skyrim and it feels like I've not had a break since. "What do you suggest we do?" he asked, helping himself to a piece of mutton in front of him.

"Sit down, read books and talk about your retirement?" Haldir asked. Velkric smirked a little.

"I just got started. There's too much left to do to even imagine giving up now."

"Well in that case…" Haldir placed the book he'd been holding in front of Velkric on the table. "We could continue with this." At his words, Velkric frowned, picking up the book with his free hand.

"The murder of Friga Shatter-Shield."

"Yes. That poor girl. It's been a whole week since she died, and yet there's been no news of her killer, has there?" Haldir asked. Velkric sighed and put the book down, continuing to eat his breakfast.

"Besides a standard 'we're doing all we can', the guards have barely examined anything. And the streets are no safer now than they were 8 days ago. The incident with the dunmer last night confirmed that" he explained bitterly. He'd seen the increasing rates of mugging and violence against non-Nords in Windhelm, no doubt to do with the growing unease between the Empire and the supporters of Jarl Ulfric. The Stormcloaks. They could start a full on war if this escalates.

"And you've found nothing either, have you?"

"No. I've been talking to Torbjorn and the family, offering my condolences while the Black Wolf's been stalking the nighttime streets waiting for the murderer to try again." His gaze hardened. "Still we've found nothing. Even if it was just a one off kill, that girl deserves justice."

"I'm sure you'll sort something out. Be realistic sir, you can't expect to solve every case within a day or two" Haldir replied, standing from his chair.

"I trained for that very reason. The more time we waste, the more damage that killer could do."

"Four total weeks of patrol and assault doesn't make an experienced vigilante sir."

"Nearly twenty years of training and burning rage does make someone very impatient," Velkric replied, picking the book back up and reading over the pages. He and Haldir had been working to track down the killer of Friga since the day after she was murdered, but to little avail.

All they had is some useless rumours around Windhelm to go off and that didn't make for good evidence. He hadn't even seen her body, it had been moved before he'd gotten the chance.

"Ah, the burning flames of idealism and rage, tempered by the cold waters of realism. And the freezing Windhelm temperature" Haldir commented in his trademark sarcasm. "You can't do anything about it right now, so why not try to do something else? Something possible?" Velkric gave thought to his words and shrugged, opting to instead finish his breakfast and give it more thought.

After he'd finished his rather hefty meal, he rose to his feet and stretched, having finally made up his mind. "Haldir! Get the horses ready, would you?"

"Are we off travelling sir?"

"Yeah. It's about time Velkric Silverdawn showed his face a little."

X-X-X-X-X

Windhelm. Arguably the 3rd best major city in Skyrim, at least if you were a Nord. For everyone else… not so much. Freezing cold weather, bigots walking the streets and if you were in the wrong place at the wrong time, you get beaten up at night.

Velkric dismounted his horse as he arrived at the stables and passed a fairly generous pile of coins to the stablehand. After Haldir did the same behind him, he made a start towards the Windhelm gates, pressing a hand above his eyes to see clearer through the snow.

"Must you drag me along when you go on these bloody trips sir?" Haldir called out over the cold wind.

"And let you miss this? No way" Velkric replied as the two trudged through the snow. Kynareth must've been in a foul mood, seeing as the biting chill was even worse than it had been the previous night and it was currently the middle of the afternoon. Despite this, the two made it over the bridge with little issue.

"Halt! Who goes there?" a guard called out, squinting at them through the falling snow.

"Velkric Silverdawn." At the mention of his name (and the dramatic pulling back of the hood of his cloak), the guard's eyes widened.

"Mr Silverdawn! It's a pleasure to see you" the guard replied, almost with reverence. Velkric smiled, but also rolled his eyes, not that they could see that in the storm. "Please come in, I'll open the gate." The guard did just that, and with a nod, Velkric and Haldir were inside.

"You don't seem pleased with your new fame sir" Haldir pointed out.

"I don't do things to become famous Haldir. It's just an unfortunate necessity of the job" Velkric replied, making his annoyance clear. He began walking down the street towards the market and Haldir kept pace with him.

"Philanthropy is all too rare in the world nowadays. It makes sense that someone as affluent and fast acting as yourself would be well known."

"It was your idea."

"You agreed to it. I think you even enjoyed it."

"Before the meetings started."

"Sadly charity is more than tossing a septim at every beggar on the streets sir." The younger man sighed, tired of Haldir being right all the time.

When Velkric had finished his long journey and came back to Skyrim after so many years, he'd wanted nothing more than to put on his armour and live in it until he got wounded enough to need patching up. Haldir had convinced him that living as the Black Wolf all the time would lead to a rather unfulfilling and destructive life (not to mention a short one) and suggested that he explore other avenues to better the world in addition to his nightly escapades, that Velkric Silverdawn could do just as much good as his alter ego.

Thanks to some business lessons from Haldir and his rather impressive fortune, he'd come into Windhelm like a charitable storm, as well as Whiterun over the past three months seen he'd returned, investing coin left and right into whatever they decided would help whatever city he'd chosen to visit at the time. Roads, guard equipment, investing into small businesses, even buying an entire fishing boat on one occasion. It had earned the attention of the city's residents, and in some cases their admiration.

It wasn't unpleasant, but Velkric didn't feel like a man built for the spotlight. As he walked down the city streets, he gave pleasant smiles and nods to all citizens who noticed him, a trained act he'd mastered over his time away.

"Ah, Velkric! You've returned!" The next man to greet him actually brought a smile to his face.

"Brunwulf. Good to see you" he replied, shaking the hand the old warrior offered to him.

"Seems you've taken a liking to Windhelm. You've been here a lot lately" Brunwulf said.

"I do love the tropical climate here" Velkric noted with a shrug. That got a chuckle from the surrounding folk who had noticed him talking to one of Windhelm's most popular citizens. "Besides, I try to be where I can do good."

"Well you've certainly been doing alright so far. There's been a smile on many people's faces because of your efforts." He leant in closer, whispering his next words to Velkric. "And not just the folk in this quarter."

Velkric nodded, understanding the reason for his secrecy. "I do what I can" he muttered back before Brunwulf leaned away and they returned to their original volume. "For my countrymen, there's no effort wasted" he continued, gesturing around him. Applause from the common folk sounded at that comment. Not surprising. They see that as patriotic favouritism. Of course, he'd worded it carefully in such a way where he included everyone in Skyrim into his statement, but they weren't going to see that.

"Aye, as any true Nord should" Brunwulf replied.

More subtle digs. I like it.

"If anyone would know that, it'd be you." Velkric patted Brunwulf on the shoulder. He'd become acquainted with the man not long after setting foot in Windhelm and he'd grown quite fond of him. He had honour and pride, as most Nords did, but he wasn't prejudiced or bigoted. He was a good person, a rarity in the land and even rarer in Windhelm. He tried to do good by people who did good by him. A simple moral code, but a good one.

"True Nord my arse!" a voice in the crowd called out. Velkric glanced over at him and did his best not to let his eyes roll. Rolff Stone-Fist had apparently recovered quickly, though the bruises on his face stood out like a sore thumb. He probably had one of those too. "He's a filthy Dark Elf lover!"

Maybe I should've taken a few teeth. Sadly Rolffs words had sparked more muttering amongst the crowd, ruining the good mood they had going. Brunwulf sighed.

"They are people like us, Rolff. When will you learn this?"

"They're just like all the elves! Evil scum!" A high elf in the crowd noticeably coughed, but no-one took any notice. "They're trying to take our god!"

"Not a Dark Elf in the city, nor any Elf, had anything to do with the Great War-"

"They're spies for the Thalmor! Or plants, trying to force us out of our city!"

"Rolff, that's madness!"

"I don't see them helping the Stormcloaks!" Rolff growled. Velkric, who had been watching this all in silence, clenched a fist. It was well known that Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm, was growing reckless and restless. His private militia, commonly referred to as "The Stormcloaks", had begun causing trouble as of late. Skirmishing with Imperials, making noise in holds with strong Empire support, minor things. However, escalation was very likely and it could get out of hand, leading to a potential civil war.

Not useful to my goal of bringing peace. "Rolff, calm yourself would you?" Velkric spoke, causing the little man to turn his rage to a new target. "I think you've had too much to drink." Drowning your sorrows no doubt.

"And you? A stranger who's also a dark elf lover probably!" the angry man slurred. Velkric felt anger boiling in his blood and he took a breath to calm himself.

Can't knock him out. Did that last night. "I don't see you out there on the front lines, Rolff. Where's your honour and glory?"

That shut him up. Velkric rolled his eyes, then turned back to his colleague. "Now, Brunwul-"

For a moment at least. "You think you can talk to me like that? I'll get my brother to break your kneecaps!" Rolff spat, getting up in Velkric's face.

"Of course. Couldn't break them yourself" he snarked back. He saw the right hand coming from a mile away, but chose not to move. Rolff's fist collided with his cheek, turning his head to the side as he grunted in pain a little. Only a little. He may hit hard when it comes to you Virene, but I am not a 110 pound Dunmer woman.

"Sir!" Haldir called out, concerned.

"Oi!" Brunwulf shouted. The crowd started making noise, angered at the attack on him.

See how much support being nice can win you?

"Hey!" a guard called out, moving to stand between Rolff and Velkric, pushing the former away. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Teaching a dark elf lover some respect!" Rolff slurred. Velkric could smell the stench from here.

"More like attacking one of the most charitable men in the city!" Brunwulf growled, stepping between Velkric and Rolff.

"Alright Rolff, that's enough. Come with us, you can cool your head in the palace" the guard commanded, sounding tired of the man's shenanigans (Velkric guessed this was hardly the first time they'd had to take him in.)

"Are you alright Velkric?" Brunwulf asked, placing a hand on Velkric's shoulder. He turned to the older man and nodded, massaging the cheek that was punched.
"Yes, I'm fine. Guess I need a bit more combat experience, couldn't even block one punch…" he muttered dejectedly. Brunwulf gave him a few pats on the shoulder before removing his hand.

"Think nothing of it. You do more good with your head than you do with your fists here. If you like, this old soldier could teach you a few things sometime?"

"Aye, I think I could use it. Never really been much good in battle though…"

"Ah it's never too late to change that" Brunwulf replied with a kind gaze. "Battle is the way of the Nord, it runs in our blood. Anyone can become a great warrior". Velkric nodded in respect and smiled a little. The crowd gave a little applause at Brunwulf's speech, then began to disperse, the excitement over.

"Well done sir" Haldir muttered behind Velkric. Inwardly, Velkric seethed, but allowed himself to smirk a little at the praise. Obviously he could've killed Rolff in seconds (or at least defended himself. Killing was something he tried to avoid), but it was a lot more convincing to just play the coward. After all, who would suspect the rich noble who got punched by Rolff Stone-Fist to be the armoured vigilante running around Skyrim at night? He'd had to temper his ego long ago, but it didn't make it any more infuriating.

"Well, not to cut this short Brunwulf, but I really have to be going now," Velkric said, plastering a smile back on his face.

"Of course. Might I ask what brings you to Windhelm today?"
"Thought I'd take a stroll around, see how everyone is doing. Everyone" he said, adding an inflection to his repetition. Brunwulf nodded in understanding and patted him on the shoulder.

"Good day kinsman" he replied. He gave Haldir a respectful nod before leaving the two of them alone.

"Quite the altercation sir" Haldir noted, giving Velkric's cheek a look.

"I'm fine. Been hit harder. Hit him harder too" Velkric replied. It was true, the most damage he'd taken was to his ego.

"I know it hurts to let him get away with something like that, but you can't exactly break his limbs in public." Haldir's hand lit up with a golden glow and he waved it over Velkric's cheek. He felt the small pain fade and if he'd had his reflection to look at, he was sure he'd have seen the bruise fade.

"Unless he tries it first" Velkric pointed out. He nodded in thanks to Haldir for his healing, as unnecessary as it had been.

"I believe this fulfils your quota for social interaction sir." The sarcasm was noted, but Velkric responded anyway.

"Not yet. There's still one place I have to go."

X-X-X-X-X

The Grey Quarter. Of all the flaws in Windhelm, this place was definitely a large one. A crumbling slum full of Dark Elves, neglected and rife with discrimination. He'd seen it firsthand, and unfortunately not just during his nightly escapades. Often Nords passing by would throw a snide remark or two at any dark elf in sight, and that was lighthearted by comparison. The violence against the Dunmer race was appalling, and sadly something he wasn't sure he could beat with either money or his alter ego.

He'd made attempts of course, he and Brunwulf actively tried. His charitable efforts had spread to the Grey Quarter too, but that was significantly harder than the main city. Not only could he not trust the city officials to use the money for the Dunmer, but the Dunmer themselves weren't exactly trusting. He was a rich Nord, the kind the majority of them either hated, or had at least a small grievance against.

It had taken a long time to get them used to him, even longer to get them to accept his help. The Elves were stubborn like that, but he'd won them over. He'd had to distribute his wealth personally here, picking and choosing where it best needed to be and being careful that Ulfric didn't get wind of his donations.

Thankfully they'd come to accept him eventually once they saw he was more like Brunwulf than like Ulfric. Now he could get away with visiting the Grey Quarter with little consequence, most Nords just assumed he needed something from them or was there to distribute hate. If only they knew.

"Velkric!" a voice called out to him. He turned and saw a young Dunmer girl approaching him and he gave a half smile.

"Hello Virene" he replied, regarding the newcomer. She was a young woman he'd met a couple times while visiting the cornerclub. A very pleasant young lady, if not a little careless, as he'd found last night. "How goes things?"

"You'll never believe what happened last night!"

Will I not? Her tone was mixed with fear and awe, so it wasn't too hard to determine what the subject matter was going to be. "What happened?"

Virene stiffened a little. "I was attacked by Rolff and Angrenor." Velkric didn't have to fake the anger on his face.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Are you alright?"

"A little sore from where they hit me, but otherwise fine. Someone saved me" she replied, the awe back in her tone.

"Oh? Who? One of the other Dunmer?"

"No, at least I don't think so. He was big, tall and broad. And he was wearing all ebony I think." Virene put a hand to her chin as she recalled the appearance of the mystery man. "He came up behind them and stopped them from attacking me, then he knocked them out! It was incredible!" she finished.

Not very incredible, one is a half crippled beggar and the other is a drunken buffoon. "Huh. Sounds like quite the guy. He tell you who he is?" Velkric asked, feigning curiosity in a way he'd practiced so often.

Virene looked down. "No… He just told me that he's called the 'Black Wolf'. Like the rumours that have been going around. He seemed… angry."

"You were being attacked by racists. He must've been angry at them, like any decent person would be" Velkric reasoned.

"I guess so. But he was so violent… He was almost scarier than they were" she replied worriedly. Velkric didn't let his expression slip.

"Perhaps he was aiming to scare them. And unfortunately, you got frightened too" he theorised, giving his best 'clueless rich guy voice' to sell his speculation.

"I guess. But he saved me!" Virene went back to the positive in the situation. "Do you think he'll come back? Help more people?" Velkric shrugged.

"Who knows? Could've just been a mercenary staying for the night. Or maybe it's a crazy guy who just happened to be in the right place at the right time" he replied. "Whatever happened, you're safe, that's what's important." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins. "Here. Go get a drink at the cornerclub, or treat yourself to something nice. Take your mind off things." Her eyes widened.

"You're too kind, Velkric. Thank you" she replied gratefully, accepting his money with near reverence. He turned to leave, but then he was stopped by her next question. "Just one more question. Do you think he's going to catch whoever murdered Friga?" Thankfully she couldn't see his face, but Velkric's expression was laced with anger. Thankfully, the words that came out of his mouth weren't angry, but rather deadly serious.

"Yes. I think he will."

Behold, a novice author's attempt at slow moving intrigue! Yes this chapter is a lot slower and a lot clunkier than the first chapter, but I kinda needed to do this to establish the difference between Velkric and the Black Wolf.

In case you can't tell already, this story can be summed up in three words. "Batman in Skyrim". Not Bruce Wayne put into Skyrim mind, but my attempt to create a "Batman" character in the world of Skyrim using the tools and characters at my disposal, plus a healthy amount of OC's! Hopefully that concept interests you so far, and if you choose to read more, awesome! We've got more coming.

Next time… Someone asks some questions, someone gets sassed and someone dies.