Skyrim: Legend of the Dovahkiin
Acceptance 2
Ralof let out a heavy sigh as he entered the palace of kings, finally glad to get out of the damn cold. He had spent about most of the day patrolling the city with nothing of note happening, nothing ever happened in Windhelm. He strode past the long dining table that sat in the center if the throne room, saluting his fellow Stormcloaks as he went. The palace always intrigued him no matter ho many times he would go in. The floors were covered in blue royal carpeting made from a rare material. The walls were draped in the typical blue banner that adorned 'The Bear of Eeastmarch.'
He was so fixated on the castle's interior that he almost didn't hear one of the soldiers calling out for him.
"Hey! Ralof! Over here!"
Ralof smiled, easily recognizing the voice calling to him as that of his old friend, Svog. The blond haired Nord turned and walked to meet his comrade.
"Svog my old friend, its been Ages!" Ralof said as he gripped the mans forearm in greeting. "How've you been?"
"Fine my friend," he replied as he returned the gesture. "Just fine. How are things outside, cold enough for you?"
"A Nord doesn't let something like the weather get to him," Ralof said with a smirk on his lips, "Besides, the both of us are practically immune to such things."
The two friends laughed as they sat down, finding humor in their childish banter. They had done such things since they first met one another. Joking, poking fun at themselves or each other, engaging in immature conversations that made most of the other rebels admittedly uncomfortable. But that was just how they did things, it was their way of dealing with the pressure and stress of war. Of the constant fighting.
"So, is it true?" Svog suddenly asked. "Was Helgen truly destroyed by…" he swallowed. "A dragon."
Ralof's smile disappeared at the very mention of the beast and his eyes fell to the ground. "Yes, it was." he said.
Svog raised an eyebrow, was that… sadness he heard in his voice? He had known Ralof for well over three years and had never once seen the man express any emotions that had to do with sadness, it was almost creepy, seeing his friend in such a state.
Svog placed a hand on his friends shoulder. "Ralof…what happened at Helgen?"
The blonde haired Nord took a deep breath and exhaled, he then told his friend of the events that unfolded at the small settlement. How he and the rest of the Stormcloaks walked into an Imperial ambush, how they captured them and sentenced them to public execution, and the mysterious youth he encountered. It was funny, despite all that happened that day, there was a moment of humor in it all. Along with himself, Ulfric, and the other Stormcloaks, a young Nord had also been captured in the ambush. He apparently was crossing the border between Cyrodiil and Skyrim when he was caught and rounded up along with the rest of the Stormcloaks. When they arrived in Helgen and were taken to the headsman's block, it had been reveled that the boy wasn't even on their list of people who were set to be executed.
The Imperials however ignored their list and sentenced him to the block along with the Ulfric and his Stormcloaks anyway, and that's when the trouble started for them. The young Nord flew into a state of pure disobedience, ignoring their orders, shouting expletives at General Tullius, even punching the captain in her nose. He continued his streak of insubordination for well over twenty minutes, much to the delight of the Stormcloaks, who found the entire ordeal very humorous, laughing with delight.
Even Ulfric laughed once or twice during the spectacle, but the most shocking moment of it all was when the boy spit in the face of Thalmor Emissary of Skyrim, Elenwen. Her escort of soldiers along with three legion officers proceeded to violently beat the boy to the ground, then picked him up and pummeled him even more. Ralof was stunned at the boy's courage. He had been a soldier for most of his adult life and had seen many things, some he wished he had never even witnessed. But in all the time he had been serving, he had never seen anyone do what he had just saw, spitting in the infamous Elenwen's face. But even after they beat him, even after they threatened to take him back to their embassy for interrogation, even as they struck him with a lightning spell at pointblank range, even as they kicked him while he was on the ground… he remained defiant.
He looked the Imperials and the Elves dead in their eyes with nothing but hatred raging within his own. The young Nord had unknowingly gained a measure respect of both Ralof and that of Ulfric Stromcloak himself. Then, as they forced him to the block…it happened. A large, jet-black dragon descended upon them and proceeded to destroy everything in its path.
"And… that's pretty much how it went down. I still cant believe it, and I was there!"
Svog sat stunned, his mouth slightly gaping. Had it been any other man who told him this tale he would have thought they were downing bottles of skooma en masse, but Ralof wasn't just some dumb soldier, he was a friend that could be trusted.
"Incredible… a dragon," Svog uttered. "A real live dragon, such a creature hasn't been seen since before the time of Tiber Septim. I assumed they had been killed off during the human-dragon wars, and I believed even that to be nothing but a legend."
"They're real," Ralof assured him, "As real as you or anyone in this palace. As real as Talos himself."
Svog and Ralof sat in silence, unsure of what to even speak. Things were happening so fast it was making their heads spin, and it didn't show any sign of slowing down anytime soon. The war, the constant fighting, and now…dragons. Ralof grabbed a bottle of cold mead sitting in front of him and took a long, desperate draft. He downed its contents and tossed it to the side before running a weary hand down his face.
"Talos… help us all."
-High Hrothgar path-
The Harbinger grunted in pain as an ice wraith dug its frozen fangs into his forearm, chilling his limb to the bone. He slashed at the creature, cutting its head from its snake like body before stomping on it frozen pile of remains. Seeing no other immediate threats he sheathed his weapons and pressed forward, ignoring the pain of his many wounds. It was night when he had arrived in Ivarstead the previous day, so he decided that it would be best if he made the trip to see the Greybeards early the next morning. He had expected the trip up would take at least till midday but with the constant barrage and waves of enemies in his path, it had instead taken a full day. The Harbinger silently cursed to himself as he trudged through the thick snow, he hated traveling through the stuff at night. A sharp pain suddenly jolted through his left shoulder. The young Nord fell on one knee, clutching his wounded appendage.
Damn…I must've been wounded worse than I thought. Damn trolls…
Regaining his bearings, the Harbinger got back on his feet and continued forward. He regretted not bringing any essentials along for his trek up the mountain, something he wound never again repeat. It was common knowledge that the path to High Hrothgar was treacherous and especially dangerous for anyone who went unprepared. The path was a hazard in itself, as many of the pilgrims who attempted to make the climb often fell to their death or met their end by the freezing temperature. The Harbinger smirked at the thought, the mountain was truly the ultimate test between man and nature.
"Dovahkiin"
The Harbinger froze dead in his tracks. "There it is again," he muttered. "That damn whisper."
"Dovahkiin"
The young warrior continued forward, practically jogging as he hurried to the ancient home of the Greybeards.
"Dovahkiin"
The Harbinger broke into a full sprint as he again heard the call of the Greybeards and the rumble of Nirn that came with it. His wounds screamed at him, begging for him to cease the strenuous act of running, but he did not. He could not. He had questions he knew only the old masters of "The Voice" could answer. Answers that he desperately needed.
"Dovahkiin"
The freezing wind cut against his unprotected face as he ran even faster than before, the sound of the wind howling in his ears as he picked up speed. Then he saw it, the ancient home of the Greybeards, he had finally arrived at High Hrothgar. The Harbinger stood in place, taking in the breath he lost during his long sprint. He swallowed, then walked up the steps and into Hrothgar.
He walked in slowly, casually gazing around the ancient hall. The Harbinger frowned as he sauntered along, just being inside the building filled him with a sense of…belonging, like he was supposed to be there. He felt as if he were truly at peace with himself, as if the burdens of his life had been lifted and cast aside. He despised it.
"Welcome, Dovahkiin. You've returned, as I knew you would."
Snapping out of his thoughts, the Harbinger looked forward and saw none other than the leader of the Greybeards standing in front of him.
The young Nord narrowed his eyes. "Arngeir."
-Jorrvaskr-
Ria downed the last of her mead then tossed the bottle aside before grabbing another. Jorrvaskr was ablaze with the sound drunken rambling and joyous merrymaking after the successful purge of Silver Hand remnants in Swindlers Den. Ria, along with Njada and Athis had been selected by the members of The Circle to act as back up for the attack in case any of the Silver Hand grunts attempted escape. The battle was brief and hadn't lasted very long as the only Silver Hand Agents that inhabited the cave were lesser members, most likely new recruits acting as spies to keep an eye on the Companions.
Ria never understood the fierce hatred between the Companions and the Silver Hand, what was it that drove the two groups to loath each other so much? She often wondered if the members of The Hand were once men and women who had been rejected by the Companions and were seeking revenge, but if that were true, then why were there so many of them? The Silver Hand were large in number and the Companions weren't the sort to just take any whelp off the streets, and they almost always refused anyone with aspirations of joining, being that most people who wanted to join were nothing more than admirers and would-be adventurers, not real warriors.
Ria had faced the members of the Silver Hand before and knew that even the lesser members were not pushovers, they knew how to hold their own in a fight, so she scratched "rejects looking for payback" off her list.
Another theory she had was that the Silver Hand were out to make a name for themselves by destroying the Companions and replacing them as the top dogs of the Whiterun hold. That seemed even less likely as the Silver Hand agents never seemed to care about money, profit, or glory for that matter. The only thing they seemed to show any emotion to was the destruction of the Companions. Sighing, Ria shook the thoughts from her head and decided to forget about it and let it be, after all, The Circle had it under control. The party goers were getting even more rambunctious than before, singing loudly, spilling mead on the floor, and drunkenly arm wrestling one another.
Torvar had taken the liberty of inviting a few "old friends" to the celebration with the okay from Aela, hence all the noise and unusual amount of people who were in the mead hall. Aela had been given the duties of the Harbinger while the man himself journeyed to High Hrothgar to consult the Greybeards yet again. Ria found it strange that the old monks would give their Harbinger an audience with them, they were known to be solitary old men, keeping silent and never speaking to anyone. Maybe the Harbinger was so well respected that they found his ear worthy of their words, but whether or not that was true was unknown. She again shook the thought from her mind and went back to her business. She sat in a small corner of Jorrvaskr drinking silently, enjoying the tranquility of the hall, despite the noise. The life of a Companion was truly the best.
"You're awfully quiet." Aela said, as she pulled up a seat next to the Imperial.
Ria's head shot up in surprise. "Oh, Aela. I didn't see you there," she stammered, "I'm just enjoying the moment is all."
The Huntress nodded as she grabbed a bottle of mead on the small table in front of them. She took a quick swig of the honeyed concoction then turned to the Imperial. "I saw how you fought when we assaulted the Silver Hand in Swindlers Den." the Huntress revealed, "I was quite impressed."
Ria stared at the Circle member with a stunned expression etched across her face, did Aela just…praise her?
"U-um…uh…thanks," the Imperial stuttered in shock. "I'm just glad I was able to aid The Circle."
"You did more than just lend aid," Aela deadpanned, her emotionless expression never leaving her visage. "You demonstrated that you are more than capable of handling yourself against a large group of enemies, Silver Hand enemies at that." Aela paused and took another swig of her mead.
"Although the agents were lesser members, myself and the other members of The Circle are very impressed with your skill in battle and have decided to consider you as the newest member of our inner ranks."
Ria's mouth gaped at the revelation, this couldn't really be happening could it? The most senior and well respected members of the Companions were actually considering letting her join their ranks, it was quite possibly the greatest thing that had ever happened to her, the other being her joining up with them. Aela carefully studied the Imperials reaction. It was obvious she was overjoyed at being recommended as a new member of The Circle, but she wasn't letting the news go to her head, something Aela toke note of. Her expression was more of shock and surprise than it was excitement, understandable for someone in her position.
It took a moment before the Imperial regained her bearings and fixed her expression to a more presentable one. "I…don't know what to say," she uttered. "I mean, I never expected that I would be considered for such a position. It's a great honor, thank you sister."
Aela waved her hand in dismissal, "Nothing. It's nothing," she assured her. "We must consult the Harbinger before we make our final decision, but I'm sure he will be more than willing to allow you into the inner circle. For now, congratulations."
Ria gave her shield-sister the largest and quite possibly the brightest smile she had ever given, she considered hugging the Huntress but remembered that typical Nord women didn't like to be touched in such a manner by anyone other than family or their husbands, which she was neither of.
"Go, celebrate," Aela insisted. "You've more than earned it, sister."
Ria nodded then sauntered over to the dining table and began conversing with Athis and Njada. Aela watched as the young Imperial mingled with the rest of the drunken party goers, it was obvious that she was enjoying the festivities yet not overindulging in them, something Aela liked about her. The Huntress leaned back in her chair casually, boots pressed against the adjacent side table. Rocking back, she surveyed Jorrvaskr's interior. Torvar and the "friends" he had invited were all in the center of the hall arm wrestling and placing bets on who would win, typical Nordic behavior.
Farkas sat in the corner on the opposite side of her, arms crossed over his chest, he wasn't the type for serious merry making. Skjor was most likely out in the training yards dining area eating alone, he didn't like the fact that non-Companions were celebrating a victory they had no part in. Vilkas was nowhere in sight, he was undoubtedly down in the living quarters resting. She decided that she would use the time on her hands to practice out in the training area.
Gathering her weapons, she started towards the open area doors when a loud banging noise made her stop and turn towards the front doors. Everyone within the hall immediately stopped what they were doing and looked toward the door as well. They all stood still silent, waiting for it to happen again. When nothing came, they turned their attention back to the celebration. Then, it happened again. Another bang from the doors, even louder than before, then another. What they heard next chilled them to the bone. A growl. A fierce, evil, demon like growl. It was a low, deep, and sinister growl, one that none of them had ever heard. A deathly silence fell over Jorrvaskr, tension so high that one could almost reach out and grab it. As if belched from the very depths of Oblivion, a large pitch black creature came bursting through the door, sending splintered shrapnel flying everywhere.
The creature let out a terrifying roar and charged, claws digging into the ground with each of its strides. Thinking fast, Aela quickly strung an arrow and fired at the creature's chest. The steel arrow bounced off its thick hide and hit the floor, leaving the beast unharmed. One of Torvar's friends drew his sword and charged the creature, shouting as he went. The man took a swing at the beast, putting all his might into the blow, all in vain. The ebony beast caught the blade with seemingly no effort on its part, lifted the man in the air and in one disgusting move, bit the man's head clean from his shoulders. Another of Torvar's allies charged the beast, hell-bent on avenging his fallen comrade.
With one powerful swipe, the creature sent its assailant hurtling clear across the hall. The man slammed into the nearby wall, a sickening crack following soon after. In a show of true power Farkas surged forward and attacked, delivering a powerful horizontal slash to the beast's muscular chest. His strike hit, but the creature seemed to hardly notice. It balled its clawed fist and punched Farkas square in his chest, the warrior flew backwards and hit one of the support beams. He coughed violently, spewing crimson. Ria and Njada attempted to take the beast on, both women charged forward, putting their attacks together.
They pushed forward, synchronizing their attack, pressing and defending, distracting and striking, fighting as one. Sensing their threat, the creature slashed at the girls, roaring as it swung. The two companions parried the blows and launched a vicious counter attack, slashing the beast across its torso and stomach. The monster absorbed the blows like it were a hand rag and launched a counter attack of its own, assaulting the women with a blitzkrieg of claw swipes. The girls lifted their shields, desperate to defend the creature's relentless assault. Tired of toying with its prey, the monster grabbed hold of the Companions shields and ripped them from their grasp. Seeing their lack of defense, the beast attacked. It grabbed Njada by the throat and hurled the Nord through the training area doors, Njada bounced on the ground twice before she slid to a stop and ceased to move.
"Njada!" Ria tried to go to her friends side but was scooped up and dangled by her left leg. The creature stared into the eyes of the Imperial woman, its lips curled upward in a sinister grin. Ria helplessly dangled upside-down, terrified as she locked eyes with the creature. Her entire body was shaking, something the creature took notice of. It opened its mouth revealing rows of razor sharp teeth and slowly raised the Imperial over its gaping maw, intending to bite the young woman's head off.
A ferocious, feral cry ripped through the walls of Jorrvaskr, The moster turned its head towards the sound and was sacked by a large werewolf, causing it to release Ria from its grasp. The two beasts hopped back to their feet and slowly circled each other, one sizing the other up. Aela took a quick glance at the werewolf and noticed its left eyeswas white. It was Skjor. They growled at each other, hatred spilling from the bestial sounds they produced. Using the distraction, Aela rushed forward and took Ria away from the creature. The young Imperial was unconscious, but alive, much to Aela's releif. By this time, many of the non-Companions were beginning to panic at the appearance the werewolf.
"By the nine…now there's a werewolf here to!?" one of the non-Companions shrieked.
"First that black monster and now this!?" another yelled.
"We cant take on that monster and a werewolf!"
"Be quiet!" the men turned to see Vilkas observing the the battle, "Just shut your mouths and watch. We needn't lift a finger, that werewolf will take care of that creature."
"Are you insane!?" one of the men shouted, "It'll tear us apart once it kills that…thing. If it can kill it that is."
"Vilkas is right." Farkas stated as he walked up to the group of warriors, "There's no need to worry, that wolf is will tear that beast apart."
Out of all the members of The Circle, Skjor was known to be the most powerful in his wolf form and could easily best even the strongest of opponents when transformed. Then, out of the blue they attacked. Everyone around them watched the horrific scene play out in front of them. Whatever minds that had been inside these beasts seem to vanish as they ripped and slashed at each other. Claws left deep gashes. Talons rending flesh from bone. Fangs bit and tore. Their fight had descended into something animalistic and everyone in Jorrvaskr knew if they tried to engage the two, they would be torn limb from limb by either monster. Then just as quickly as it had started…it ended. The creature grabbed old of Skjor's throat and tossed him out into the training area, it let out a savage cry and darted off in pursuit of the wounded werewolf.
"Don't let it get away!" Aela shouted as she released an arrow. The shot missed the creature's skull by mere inches as it charged after Skjor.
Vilkas and his brother ran in pursuit of the monster, intent on slaughtering the dark abomination. Skjor, who was still in his wolf form, struggled to get back to his feet, but the monster had other plans. The demon took Skjor by the throat, slammed the man against a nearby wall, and pummeled him to a bloody pulp. The monster ceased its brutal assault and stared down at its defeated opponent, surprisingly, Skjor hadn't reverted back to his human form. Just as the demon prepared to deliver a final blow, Vilkas and his brother attacked from behind, slashing at the beast's backside. Roaring in anger, it spun around and swatted the two brothers away, they flew backwards and slammed into the pavement, hard. The creature bounded towards them in an attempt to finish them off.
With the fury of a hunting goddess, Aela unleashed a flurry of arrows, each one finally lodging in the creature's torso. The monster's eyes widened as if surprised that the arrows had actually pierced its hide, Farkas noticed a silver band around the Huntress's finger and smirked. He had seen her use the ring in the past on their hunts, it was enchanted to increase the force and power of her already powerful bow. Farkas jumped back to his along with Vilkas, the three senior Companions closed in on the monster. With unheard of speed, the beast darted for the wall by the training dummies, cleared the barrier, and vanished into the darkness of the night. Aela fired two arrows at the beast, but her target was too swift and climbed over the wall and escaped into the wilderness of Skyrim.
"What in Oblivion was that thing?" Farkas asked as he sheathed his great sword. "We cut it over and over again, countless times. But it just shrugged off our attacks like they were nothing."
Aela shook her head. "I don't know, but now is not the time to worry about it. We have more pressing matters to attend to." she pointed over to where the still transformed Skjor lay bloodied and beaten, barley clinging to life.
"By the gods, I'm surprised he's able to maintain his transformation with all those wounds." Vilkas whispered, taking care not to let any of the other people around hear him.
"He knows that he cant let anyone see him like this," Aela explained. "He wont revert back to human form until it's same."
"Okay, so what do we do know?" Farkas asked.
"Crowd control," Aela gestured to the men standing behind them. "Farkas, you get all these people out in front where they cant see us. I'll take Skjor into the Underforge so he can revert back to his human form and attend to his wounds the best I can until we can get him proper treatment. Vilkas, Njada was hurt badly when she fought that thing, take her and get her to the healer right away."
"Got it." Farkas turned and began to lead the non-Companion members away.
Vilkas picked up Njada and started for the door but stopped abruptly. "What happened to Ria?" he inquired. Aela could hear a hint of worry in his voice.
"She's okay, I set her down in a corner in the hall. She's unconscious, but she's unharmed."
"Alright then, I'll take your word for it."
With that, Vilkas left to find the healer. Seeing no one in sight, Aela scooped the bloody Skjor off the ground and carried him to the Underforge. The second they entered the secret meeting room Skjor returned to his human form. Aela sighed in relief when she looked upon her old shield-brothers wounds, thanks to the thick hide of his werewolf form the creature's attacks hadn't caused severe damage, but he would be in danger if he didn't get immediate medical treatment.
"Damn…" he sputtered, "I thought I had the bastard…"
"Be quiet, save your strength," Aela cautioned, "That thing injured you worse than what I first believed, you're lucky to be breathing." Skjor reached up and put his hand on the Huntress's cheek, causing her to flinch.
"Skjor, what are you doing?" she asked in a monotone voice. Skjor brushed aside a strand of the Huntress's hair aside and simply stared ino her green silvery-green eyes.
Aela frowned. "You know I don't like when you do that."
"I know," Skjor deadpanned. "But I cant help myself sometimes." Aela sighed, she didn't know if he was being serious or if he was delusional.
"Skjor, stop it. Now," she demanded. "I don't want to start this right now."
The balding warrior smiled and removed his hand, "Just making an observation."
Aela grunted at the comment and began to go to work on his wounds. He had long, jagged claw marks across his entire body as well as several dark bruises on his face. All in all, he looked like crap. The Huntress held up her hands and summoned as much magicka as she could and cast a small healing spell on the balding warrior, Skjor let out a releived sigh as he felt the warm magic wash over his body. Aela had never really been interested in any type of magic, she felt that the arcane arts were reserved for weaklings and milk-drinkers, not a proud Huntress like her. That was until their new Harbinger had come along, and showed her and the rest of the Companions the advantage of knowing restoration magic.
She smiled as she remembered the words the man used when he gave them a demonstration.
When you're on the field of battle alone , you are the only one responsible for your own health. As such, having a healing spell comes in handy when you're bleeding out in the snow.
Their Harbinger really was full of surprises, and still continued to amaze her. He could easily best both Farkas and his brother in a sword fight, was a crack-shot with a bow, demonstrated considerable knowledge in the arcane arts, and was damn good at stealth tactics, despite his heavy steel armor. The boy was really a very well rounded warrior. Aela looked up as the entrance to the Underforge was opened and Vilkas walked in.
"So, how is he?" he asked straight away.
"He'll be fine for now," she replied. "But we've got to get him to the healer soon."
"Alright then, put his arm over my shoulder, I'll help you carry him."
They hoisted the heavy man up and strode out of the Underforge and towards the Whiterun healer. Aela noticed that most of the other people who had been in Jorrvaskr were out by the old Gildergreen tree conversing with one another, no doubt about the events that had just transpired.
"How's Njada?" she asked as she glanced at her ally. "Is she going to be okay?"
Vilkas nodded. "She'll be fine," he reassured the Huntress. "She suffered some broken bones, but nothing too serious. Danica said she'd be back on her feet by tomorrow."
Aela nodded and dropped the subject. Her thoughts were ablaze like a fire in her mind, tonights events were by far the strangest of occurences that had happened by far. The creature was tougher and far stronger than anything she had ever encounted before, even giants never gave her so much trouble. A scowl slowly formed on her war-painted face, she knew that this was the beginning of something that would rattle the very foundation of the Whiterun hold. Wether or not she would be stronge enough to survive the coming storm, was unclear.
A/N: Here again, here again. Well that's yet another chapter finished, and I gotta say, it was sort of difficult. The part where the Harbinger was hearing the Greaybeards whisper to him was kinda random, but it fit so I decided to keep it. The chapter itself was kind of a slow and unfulfilling one, I didn't really know where I should start off so I just decided to chose Windhelm because I didn't really do anything with Ralof or Ulfric. I got a PM from someone that asked me when I would be touching down on the relationship between the Harbinger and Aela, and to answer, not for a little while. I kinda wanna give some insight between Aela and Skjor's relationship first. Lastly, I decided to add a little twist to the story with that random monster. You guys can probably guess where im going with it. I mean come on, big monster attacking a mead hall? Sounds pretty familiar doesn't it? But I assure you, it plays an important role in the revalation to the main protaganist's identity. Anyway, comments are welcome and don't be afraid to PM me. Till the next chapter.
Zero out