Skyrim: Legend of the Dovahkiin
Acceptance 9
Ria gave a light yawn as she rose from her bed. Her stomach was immediately assaulted by nausea and a sharp throbbing sensation from her temples shot through her head and she flopped back down with a pained groan. As a Companion, Ria was used to nights of drunken revelry and the hangovers that came the following mornings. She once went out on a job feeling worse than a sick baby elk with a headache the size of a mammoth, but the pain coming from the one she had presently topped them all, and the sickness was just as bad if not worse.
With a frustrated groan, the Imperial dragged herself out of bed and donned her scaled armor. Today she and the Harbinger would be returning to Whiterun to deliver the Dragonstone Jarl Balgruuf had asked them to retrieve. She still couldn't believe that they had actually found it in the condition it was in. Considering how old the barrow itself was, she figured that even if the stone was in the place the ancient Nords had stored it, it would most likely be nothing but a pile of rubble when they found it. However, their encounter with the undead warrior quickly killed that theory stone dead.
Ria shook the thoughts from her head, there wasn't any use in thinking about the stone now that they had found it. Another throb of pain coursed through her temples, reminding her of the pounding headache she still had. Digging in her knapsack, Ria pulled out two small bottles of potion, one red and one green. Walking out the room, she made her way over to the front counter where the Inn keeper Orgnar was busy cleaning various dirty dishes.
The Inn still retained signs from the celebration of the previous night. Bottles, mugs, dishware and half eaten food lay scattered across the floor and tables. A few of the partygoers also lay passed out along the floors, some still cradling half empty bottles of mead like they were fragile infants. She noticed, to her delight, Sven lay amongst the bodies of drunken Nords. She chuckled as she remembered how the Bard tried to woo her with every honeyed word, bad pick up line and terrible song he knew. While she was flattered, she had no interest in weak-neck men who sang to drunk people for a living.
She was only interested in a handsome, hard bodied, mead drinking warriors. Someone that could make her blush in embarrassment at his rude, vulgar comments but still get her to take her clothes off. Her thoughts began to drift to the young Harbinger, who was nowhere in sight at that moment. He was the picture and very definition of male perfection. With his wavy, shoulder length hair, steely blue eyes, strong jaw and a youthful yet masculine face. He was the type of man that could catch the eye of any woman who crossed his path.
And catch them he did.
During the celebration, Ria caught glimpses of the young women of the town flocking to the tavern in droves just for a chance to meet their 'savior'. One of the women, the sister of the man who owned the general goods store, was particularly bold in her attempt to court the young Harbinger. That drew the ire of the many young men who sent the young warrior dirty looks every time another woman drifted off to him. That was put to an end once the Companion shot them an icy glare. Despite the offers he was receiving from the many young women, the Harbinger politely turned them down and strode outside for the remainder of the celebration, wanting to be left alone.
Ria considered following after the young warrior, but decided to leave him to his thoughts. Though not as perceptive as Vilkas or Aela, Ria had noticed subtle changes in the Harbinger's behavior, the most noticeable among them being his sudden distant nature. True, he had always been a warrior of a solitary disposition, but never to an extent such as this. Ever since his return from Ivarstead, the young warrior seemed to shrink into a deep depression. Ria didn't know what kind of inner struggle the Harbinger was going through, but whatever it was, it seemed to be eating away at his very sanity.
Sighing heavily, Ria decided to dwell on the situation at a better time, particularly when the pain in her skull subsided. The Innkeeper turned to face her.
"Morning," Orgnar greeted the Companion. "Can I get you something?"
"A small cup, a spoon and an egg, if you don't mind."
"Sure thing," the Nord searched around under the counter for a moment before he handed the Imperial her requested items. "You guys need anything else let me know."
Ria took a quick glance around the Inn. "Where is Elona?"
Orgnar shrugged as he cleaned a dirty mug. "She headed off to Whiterun a couple of hours ago. Got a letter from an acquaintance of hers in the city and went off to meet him."
"And the Harbinger?"
"He's at the Riverwood Trader, buying supplies from Lucan. He asked me to give you a message, said to meet him near the Whiterun road entrance after you finished up here."
The Imperial nodded. "Right, thanks for that Orgnar."
"No problem," the Innkeeper said as he went back to his cleaning duties. "Passing a message along is the least I can do after what you guys did for the town."
Uncorking the two bottles of potion, Ria poured the contents into the cup, causing the mixture to let lose a small puff of smoke. Cracking the egg open, she let it fall into the mixture with a wet plopping noise. After mixing the contents, Ria quickly downed the concoction before slamming the cup onto the counter. The effects were almost instant. She felt the pain in her head subside and the nausea in her stomach dissipate.
Looking up, the Companion noticed the Innkeeper giving her a questioning look.
She gave a small smile. "It's something for hangovers."
Orgnar stared at the Imperial a moment before speaking. "That looked awful."
"It's not as bad as you'd think. There's one concoction where you have to add a giant's toenail."
Orgnar grimaced and Ria laughed.
The Harbinger sat on the bridge leading to Riverwood, elbows on his knees staring at the ground, pondering what had occurred the previous day at Bleak Falls Barrow. The wall, the rush of air, the images that flashed through his head, the power he felt surge through his body, and the voices. The damned voices. He couldn't get them out of his head, couldn't get them to shut up. They just kept repeating that same word over and over again.
Fus
The young warrior ran a weary hand through his hair before pinching the bridge of his nose. His body was wracked with fatigue and weariness and his muscles felt heavy and overused. After he had excused himself from the town's celebration, he decided that a late night hunt would be the best way to clear his troubled thoughts, especially since it had been two weeks since his last transformation.
While the hunt helped him release some of the tension that had been building up inside of him, it had done nothing to stay the relentless assault of his bitter thoughts, making sleep very difficult. The dark crescents under his eyes could attest to that. The Harbinger was so lost in his thoughts he almost didn't hear the soft footsteps of his shield sister as she approached him.
"Good morning, Harbinger." She greeted him with a warm smile.
"Morning, Ria. Are you ready to leave?"
"Of course, ready when you are."
Rising to his feet, the Harbinger hefted his knapsack and strapped it to his back. "Then let's get a move on, I want to get back to Jorrvaskr as soon as possible."
Their journey back to Whiterun was spent mainly in silence. Ria had tried to strike up a conversation, but the Harbinger never answered in full sentences, only ever replying with a "yes" or "no", or simple nod of his head. She couldn't blame him though. With all of the strange things that seemed to happen around him, it was within his rights to want to be left alone. At the same time however, she wished that he would open up to her and the other Companions about whatever it was that was plaguing him. Maybe she could relate to what he was going though. Maybe she had been there too, though she suspected that was highly doubtful.
Against her better judgment, Ria decided she would press the Nord for answers. "Harbinger, can I ask you something?"
The Harbinger gave a light nod, his icy blue eyes still facing forward.
"Lately, I've seen a slight change in the way you act," Ria paused for a moment, waiting to see if the young leader would respond. When he didn't, she continued. "You've become… distant from the rest of us, though you were always that way, even when you first joined us."
The Harbinger remained silent.
"I'm worried about you Harbinger, everyone in Jorraskr is, despite their words to the contrary. I don't pretend to understand what you're going through, but I'd like to know. I'd like to help you, if you'll let me."
The Harbinger suppressed his urge to scoff at the Imperials words. He then mentally reprimanded himself, that was rude even to think. Ria was only concerned for his well being, something that he wasn't entirely used to. Though her concern for him was well received, he didn't want her or anyone to know about what was happening to him, not until he found the answers he was searching for.
"Ria, while your concern for me is well received, my problems are my own." the young Nord finally answered. "There are many things that I don't understand and questions that I need answered. Involving you and the Companions would only further complicate things for me. I know that it's not much of an answer, but I hope you understand."
Ria gave the young warrior a reassuring look. "Of course, Harbinger, I understand. Know that if you ever need someone to lend an ear, you need only find me."
The Harbinger gave a weak but appreciative smile. "Thank you, Ria. Now, lets get this stone to Farengar, no doubt that mage is cursing our names for not getting it here sooner."
Lisaa paced back and fourth in Farengar's study, nervously twirling a small strand of her blond hair. A whole day had passed since the Companions Harbinger and his friend had departed for Bleak Falls to retrieve the Dragon Stone, and the two warriors still had yet to return. Worry gripped the young princess and her dark thoughts as to the fate of the two warriors only made things worse. Balgruuf had attempted to put the girl's mind at ease, assuring her that the Harbinger's skills and the fact that he had defeated the Jackal single handedly would see both him and his comrade from harm.
Lisaa however wasn't hearing any of it, stating that she would only believe that unless the two walked through the doors of the palace themselves.
"You know, you just might wear out the floor if you continue to pace like that, princess." Farengar said as he looked through and old tome.
Lisaa whirled around to face the mage, blond hair whipping gracefully. "How can you be so calm about this Farengar? It's been an entire day since they left to retrieve something you asked them to acquire, yet you act as if all is well in the world."
Farengar shrugged. "I see no need to worry myself over the wellbeing of two highly trained warriors, Companions no less."
Lisaa was appalled by the mage's cold indifference. How could he be so uncaring towards the people who were putting their lives on the line to bring him back a lost artifact?
"Skill or no skill, they're the ones risking their lives for the benefit of your research," Lisaa reminded him. "The least you could do was show a bit of empathy."
"Your father pays me to find answers, not worry about the hired help." Farengar countered.
Anger flashed in the princess's eyes. She opened her mouth speak but was cut off by the mage's hooded guest.
"There's no use in arguing with Farengar over this matter," the woman told her, "Nor is there any reason for you to worry yourself, Lady Lisaa. If this Harbinger lives up to the stories I've heard about him, he'll come back alive."
As if on cue the young leader and his Imperial comrade entered the study. Lisaa practically jumped on the two, repeatedly, and frantically asking if they were in any way injured. It took five whole minutes for the Harbinger to calm the princess and convince her that he and Ria did not need to be taken to Dragonsreach's infirmary.
Farengar looked up from the tome he was reading and eyed the young Nord, a slight smirk appearing on the corner of his lips. "Ah, I see the our resident Jackal slayer returns. Triumphant, I hope."
Removing his knapsack, the Harbinger took the stone and placed it on the mage's desk. Farengar's eyes lit with excitement, and he smiled from ear to ear. Ria raised an eyebrow. That was the first time she had seen the mage give a genuine smile, and it unnerved her a bit.
"Ah, yes! The Dragonstone!" Farengar exclaims as he ran his hands over the large rock. "I'm pleased to see that you've found it, and in excellent condition! Seems you two are a cut above the usual riff raff the Jarl sends me."
"That stone was not easy to obtain," Ria informed the mage as she crossed her arms over her chest. "We had to fight off a near endless wave of draugr, along with the still active traps that littered the floors and walls."
Farengar gave a wave of his hand, his eyes never leaving the stone. "Yes, yes, it was difficult I'm sure."
A slim, hooded figure clad in leather armor approached the two warriors, a woman by the size of her. A long, elegant Katana hung from her hip, something the Harbinger took note of. Katanas were extremely rare to come across these days, almost impossible. Since the destruction of the Blades at the hands of the Dominion, katanas had all but disappeared from Tamriel. Even the largest of museums in Cyrodiil had none on display.
"You two actually found the stone? Nice work."
She looked over her shoulder at the mage. "Let me know what you find when you've finished deciphering it, Farengar."
Without another word, the woman strode out of the study. The Harbinger watched her as she left, curious as to who she was, and more importantly, what she was doing in Dragonsreach. It was common knowledge that Farengar was researching the sudden return of the dragons, but for him to willingly include someone in his studies was a bit strange.
Either the woman was a fellow mage, or a source of information. The latter made the most sense, as Farengar was almost never seen outside of Dragonsreach.
"We got you the stone, mage," Ria began. "So what happens now?"
"This is where your job ends and mine begins," Farengar said as he flipped through the pages of the tome he was reading. "The work of the mind, sadly undervalued in Skyrim."
A sudden wave of fatigue suddenly washed over the Harbinger, and he was reminded of how tired he was. Though he wanted to inform Balgruuf of the status of Riverwood, the utter exhaustion he was feeling prevented him from doing so. He needed rest. Besides, the guards stationed in the town would eventually send their reports. Plus, Pericles and his group had most likely already gave their reports.
No need to worry there…
"If you'll excuse us, we'll be on our way now."
With a quick bow to Lisaa, Ria and the Harbinger made their way out of Dragonsreach.
Farengar looked up at the princess and smiled. "See, no reason to worry."
Frowning, Lisaa turned on her heels and exited the mage's study, wanting nothing more than to be as far away from the man as possible.
It was at the very moment they opened the ancient doors of Jorrvaskr that the Harbinger's fatigue nearly won out. The second he walked in almost all his limbs nearly gave out. It was only a slight staggering of his body, too quick for most to notice. Unnoticed it went by almost everyone who had come to greet their return, everyone except for Aela, Farkas, and Vilkas. The three warriors shared concerned glances as the Harbinger made his way down to the living quarters.
When the doors closed, Vilkas turned to the Imperial. "Ria, a word."
Ria made her way to the Circle members, brow knitted together in confusion. "Is there something wrong?"
"No, we just have some questions," the Huntress answered. "Tell us, was the Harbinger injured at all during your time with him?"
Ria placed her thumb and index fingers on her chin. "He received a large bruise on his back from a giant frostbite spider yesterday. But I'm positive he had it healed when we returned to Riverwood."
Farkas furrowed his brow, confused. "Spiders? Wasn't Riverwood being sacked by bandits?"
Ria explained in detail about the stone Jarl Balgruuf and Farengar requested they go and retrieve, and their little side job with Lucan as well as their encounter with the thief Arvel and the enemies they encountered within the old barrow. She also informed them of the Nord's strange reaction to the wall that was near the draugr's sarcophagus.
"This wall," Vilkas began. "What exactly did it say?"
Ria shrugged her slender shoulders. "I'm not sure. They weren't words, but strange markings, mostly lines and dots. Different from any I've ever seen in any book."
Aela raised a single eyebrow. "And you say after he was finished staring at the wall he muttered something under his breath?"
"Yes, I didn't hear what he said exactly, but he defiantly uttered some word."
"Ria, you're sure about this?" Farkas inquired. "You didn't leave out any details at the Harbinger's request, did you?"
Ria glared at them, the look on her face that of outrage. "Of course not! Even if he told me to keep it a secret, I'd have told all of you. There's something wrong with the Harbinger. I don't know what it is, but if someone doesn't help him, I fear he may fall into insanity."
Silence fell over the group, almost uncomfortably so. The Circle knew Ria wouldn't lie to them, especially if the well-being of the Harbinger was involved. Whatever was plaguing their young advisor, it was affecting his mind more than they had originally thought.
"Thank you Ria," Vilkas said. "You've been a great help. Oh, and here's your pay."
Ria took the bag full of coins and gave a appreciative nod before rejoining the other whelps, leaving the three werewolves to discuss the matter further.
"Something happened in Riverwood," Vilkas said flatly. "I don't know what, but whatever it was, it's affecting the Harbinger both mentally and physically."
Farkas nodded in agreement. "Yeah, but what exactly?"
"I don't know brother, but something has to be done."
"Like what?" Farkas asked. "The Harbinger's pretty big on keeping his problems to himself. "
Farkas spoke the truth. The Harbinger wasn't the type of person to share how he was feeling at any given moment with anyone. Though he had grown close to Kodlak, he never confided in the old warrior about anything other than the battles he would be taking place in, and his past remained a mystery as well. For all the respect the Companions had for their young leader, they knew absolutely nothing of what he did before he arrived in Skyrim.
Whatever it was, he was adamant about keeping it a secret.
"We will have to broach the subject with him when the time is right," Vilkas stated. "For now, we'll wait."
"Fair enough," Aela agreed, then her expression turned hard. "Now, what of Ria and her induction into the Circle?"
"That will also have to wait," Vilkas sighed. "While I believe everything she told us about what happened in Riverwood and the barrow, I want to consult the Harbinger about her combat prowess before we make a final decision."
"Seems appropriate." Farkas agreed.
"I stand by the decision," Aela started, leaning against the wooden beam behind her. "But Skjor might be opposed to the decision."
"Why would he?" Farkas asked, arching a single brow. "Skjor usually welcomes the idea of another blood kin among us."
Aela shook her head. "It isn't Ria he would have a problem with, but rather the Harbinger."
"You mean he'll oppose the Harbinger's decision to include Ria among the Circle." Vilkas clarified.
"Exactly."
Vilkas ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He had not considered that Skjor might pull a stunt like that, but it was a likely possibility. The old war veteran had disliked the young Harbinger from the moment he walked through the doors of Jorrvaskr so many months ago. No one knew the reason behind his hatred, it seemed utterly pointless. Whatever the reason, it would make Ria's induction all the more difficult.
"Let me worry about Skjor," Vilkas said. "I'll convince him to keep his personal opinions of the Harbinger from affecting his decision."
"Very well," Aela agreed. "We will hold our decision until the Harbinger and Skjor have both been consulted."
Despite what Vilkas had said, he was not looking forward to speaking with the old warrior. Convincing the Nord to put aside his hatred for the Harbinger would prove to be one of the most, if not the most difficult task of his life.
"But I can still hear it, the call of the blood. I try to fight it, but it's always there…"
Kodlak gave a small, sympathetic nod. "We all do, it is our burden to bear. But, we will overcome this. You are a strong fighter Vilkas, I know that you will conquer this affliction, just as you have conquered everything else before you."
Vilkas nodded gratefully, face bright with encouragement. "You have my brother and I, obviously. But I don't know if the others will come around so easily."
Kodlak merely gave a low chuckle and placed a hand on the warrior's shoulder. "Leave them to me."
The sound of heavy footsteps drew the attention of the two Companions. Looking up, they were greeted with the sight of a young man wearing a set of studded armor and an iron helmet. Kodlak took a moment to study the boy. He was of average height with a lean, muscular build, wavy shoulder length brown hair, a short stubble of facial hair, and a pair of deep blue eyes.
The last thing Kodlak noticed were the strange swords he carried with him. If he remembered correctly, they were called katanas. Strange, since carrying such a weapon was the equivalent telling the Thalmor you were an avid worshipper of Talos.
Vilkas shot upward, hand reaching for the handle of the sword on his belt.
"Stay your hand, Vilkas," the old Harbinger said calmly. "No harm will befall us."
Vilkas grudgingly moved his hand away from his blade and sat back down, eyes still fixed on the young stranger.
Kodlak looked to the young warrior. "Come in, speak your piece."
The young warrior strode into the Harbinger's quarters, his movement careful, yet filled with a confidence Kodlak hadn't seen in a person his age in a very long time.
"I wish to join the Companions." the young warrior said flatly.
Kodlak gave a low chuckle. The boy wasted no time with idle conversation or formal pleasantries. "Do you now? Here, let me have a look at you."
The old Harbinger rose to his feet, a slight groan escaping his lips. Moving closer, Kodlak looked into the young warriors eyes, gazing at him with intense focus. Though he scanned over the boy's physical condition, he seemed more interested in the internal confines of his very soul.
The boy's eyes were hard, confident, and full of pride that only a true Nord could have. Yet, there was something else… something hidden beneath it all.
Pain. Buried within the boy's soul was a past filled with the kind of violence and hardship that only seasoned warriors ever experienced. Kodlkak was a bit stunned, there weren't many warriors his age that experienced hardships such as he did and lived to tell of it.
Whoever the boy was, he was no ordinary individual.
"Yes," he said at length, the single word came out as a whisper, tone laced with a promise of much to come. "The boy has a certain strength of spirit, unlike any I've seen in years. I think you'll do."
Vilkas looked at the old Harbinger, outrage written clear across his face. "Master, you cant be serious!" he boomed, rising from his chair so fast it toppled over.
"I am no one's master, Vilkas," Kodlak retorted. "And last I checked, we still have some empty beds available for those with a fire burning in their heart."
The old warrior's words seemed to pacify Vilkas, albeit for the briefest of moments. "Apologies. But perhaps this isn't the time. I've never even heard of this…" the Nord spat on the ground. "Outsider before."
"Sometimes the famous come to us," Kodlak stated. "Sometimes men and women come to us to seek their fame. It makes no difference. What the boy has done in the past, who he was, what he accomplished, is not as important as what he will do. What matters… is his spirit."
Vilkas snorted. "And his arm."
Kodlak nodded and looked directly into the young warrior's eyes. "Of course. Tell me, how are you in battle?"
The boy didn't waste a second. "I can handle myself."
"So you say, but that remains to be seen," Kodlak turned to Vilkas. "Vilkas, take him out to the yard and see what he can do."
"As you wish, Kodlak," Vilkas made his way out of the room, giving the young warrior a deliberate bump to the shoulder as he went by. "Lets get this over with. The sooner I kick your sorry hide the sooner I can get back to more important matters."
Without a word, the young Nord turned and followed Vilkas to the training yard. Eager to make the older warrior eat his words.
The Harbinger slowly opened his still tired eyes and rolled over on his back. He lay there motionless, his body bare from the waist up. Staring up at the ceiling, the young Nord began to ponder the significance of the dream he had just had. The thought of his very recent past coming back in the form of dreams-Vivid ones at that-unnerved him a bit. The thing he wanted the most was to leave his past in the past, not relive it each time he closed his eyes. With a sigh he propped himself up and moved to the edge of the bed. Despite the unwanted dream, he felt better than he had when he and Ria entered Jorrvaskr earlier in the day, plus his thoughts didn't seem as jumbled as they had before. For that, he was grateful.
Rising from his bed, the Harbinger put on a sleeveless wool shirt and strapped on his breastplate and gauntlets. As he strapped the two Skyforge swords to his waist, a nock came from the outside doors leading to the common area where the whelps resided.
"Enter." he said, just loud enough to hear. The doors opened and striding through the threshold was none other than Jarl Balgruuf's Housecarl, Irileth, her usual stony and impassive visage replaced by one of complete alarm. That in itself gave the Harbinger pause. In all the time he'd come to know the Dunmer, not once had he seen her display any emotion other than anger or annoyance. Seeing her on high alert made his stomach knot up tightly, something was wrong.
"No time for explanations," she began, her voice laced with alarm. "Jarl Balgruuf summons you."
The Harbinger inwardly cringed as he made his way through the chaos that was Dragonsreach. Nobles, Thanes, and a few of the Whiterun residents filled the court to the brim, their panicked chatter filling the air.
"What in Oblivion is going on?" the Harbinger inquired as he and Irileth pushed their way through the jumble of people. "When I visited this morning I didn't even see you or the steward in the court."
Irileth's face grew hard, crimson eyes flashing with an anger that was waiting to be unleashed, yet she kept them facing forward. "The Jarl will explain everything."
Deciding not to press the Dunmer, the Harbinger made his way through the wall of nobles until he finally made it to the front of the court. Balgruuf, Aeta, and Lisaa all sat upright on their thrones. Despite the picture of serenity their faces sported, the Harbinger could tell they were far from being at peace. Where her parents did a better job at concealing their true emotions, Lisaa failed miserably, her eyes and worriedly arched brow making her emotions easy to read.
Unsurprisingly, then ten elite guard were also in attendance. Roggvar, Ranmir, Balfring and the sole woman of the elites, Lydia, stood close to the young princess's side. Hands tightly gripping their weapons, expertly watching the large crowd for any brigands or would be assassin.
Irileth stepped forward. "I've returned with the boy, my Jarl."
"Good, I'm glad you've come. The situation has become dire."
The Harbinger's brow wrinkled in confusion. "What situation? What's happened?"
The Jarl's face grew hard, and he locked eyes with the young warrior. "We've received a report that a dragon has been spotted in the hold."
The Jarl paused, studying the Nord's reaction. He stood quiet and motionless, his brow knitting into a scowl. "A dragon… in the hold?"
"Correct," Irileth answered, striding over to the Jarl and his family. "One of our sentries spotted the beast flying over the meadery just a few hours ago. We've received no other reports or sightings since, but we aren't taking any chances."
"We have men ready to ferry water to the fires that will likely spring up if the beast decides to attack the city." Balgruuf finished.
"What about the people of the city?" The Imperial noble Vinnus inquired.
Irileth shot the noble an annoyed glare. "We are prepared to evacuate the citizens should the city come under attack. Hopefully, it will not come to that."
At the Dunmer's words, the court erupted in a frenzy of outrage and protest, the nobles demanding more appropriate action. As the Jarl attempted to calm the panicking upper class citizens, a guard came bursting through the doors. The Harbinger's enhanced sense of smell was assaulted with the thick, pungent smell of smoke, freshly burned flesh and the unmistakable smell of human blood. Sharp gasps could be heard as the man made his way past the nobles and the front of the court. The Harbinger inwardly recoiled as he got his first good look at the soldier. The man's helmet was missing, his face and body were horribly burned and most of his uniform was all but disintegrated. The remaining pieces burned completely black.
"A dragon," the guardsmen gasped, sucking in a lung full of air. "A dragon… is attacking the Western Watchtower! It… it came out of nowhere, took us by surprise. By the time we'd managed to pull ourselves together, it had already killed four others."
Balgruuf pushed himself off his throne, his features colder than stone. Ignoring the panic induced pleas from the nobles, the Jarl shifted his gaze to his Elven Housecarl. "Irileth, I want you take a contingent of men and head to the tower. Do whatever you can to kill that beast!"
The Dunmer slammed an ashen fist over her chest. "Yes, my Jarl!"
Roggvar, who had been silent during the ordeal stepped up and said, "My Jarl, I wish to accompany Irileth to the tower, so that I may aid in the defense. I also ask If can take a few of my men with me, the more seasoned warriors we have, the better chance we have at defeating this dragon."
The Jarl nodded. "Of course. Ranmir and Balfring will accompany you and Irileth to the tower. Lydia, I want you and the other elite to stay in the city. If Irileth and the others should fail, I need capable warriors to defend the walls."
Lydia placed her fist over her heart. "Yes, my Jarl."
Farengar practically ran over to the Jarl, eyes bright with excitement. "I should go too, I would very much like to see this dragon."
Balgruuf looked right at the mage, gaze unflinching. "No, I cant afford to lose you. I need you here, working on ways to defend the city against these monsters."
The mages shoulders dropped ever so slightly. "As you wish, my Jarl." he moped, then turned on his heels and retreated back to his study.
The Jarl then turned his hard gaze upon the Harbinger, his brown eyes locking with the young warrior's blue ones. "Harbinger, I ask that you also accompany Irileth and Roggvar to the tower to aid them in battle."
"Why add me?" the question was honest, and held no intent of refusal regardless of answer given. It was more out of the warrior's curiosity than anything, almost as if he wanted to hear what the man had to say.
Balgruuf's answer was immediate and filled with confidence. Eyes still locked with the young Nord's, he said, "You escaped Helgan, as well as defeated the Jackal with nothing but your own two hands. You have skills unmatched by any in the hold and have more experience with situations like this, that makes you the best man for this job."
"I've asked for your assistance before, now… I am asking again. Will you help us?"
The Harbinger's answer was fast and decisive, filled with unwavering courage. "I will."
Roggvar felt oddly at ease despite the gravity of the situation he had placed himself in. He, Irileth, Ranmir, Balfring and a group of about twelve Whiterun guards made their way towards the Western Watchtower, each of them keeping a sharp eye on the sky for any signs of danger. Trailing close behind him, was the Harbinger of the Companions. Roggvar inwardly swore, cursing the fates that he would be joined in battle by a lowly mercenary. Ranmir and Balfring were very vocal about their displeasure with working with the Companion, stating that he was only there for coin and glory, and cared nothing for the city or its people.
The Harbinger paid no mind to the two elites, focusing instead on the task at hand. Not surprisingly, Irileth remained hard as stone as they moved toward their destination, mouth set in a hard line.
Out in the distance, the tower came into view. The damage that had been done was clearer than the purest rivers of Skyrim. The tower barley stood, part of its upper half looked as if it had been blown apart, giving it the appearance of a broken glass. Around the tower's entrance the ground was littered with fallen stone and broken wood. The grass was either completely burned away or was currently ablaze.
The sight was all the more intimidating since the sky had turned dark with clouds, giving the structure an ominous look.
Noticing the lack of activity, the Harbinger wondered if any of the tower's occupants had survived the attack. From the front, Irileth signaled for the group to halt their movement.
"Something indeed hit the tower," Roggvar said as he strode over to the Housecarl's side. "But I don't see any dragon."
Irileth said nothing as she continued to scan the carnage that lay before them, trying her best to drown out the panicked chatter of the twelve guardsmen behind her.
The Harbinger shook his head, eyes watching the area for a surprise attack. "It's here," he ground out, his experience from the dragon he encountered in the wilderness coming back to him. "We may not be able to see it, but it's still here."
"How is that possible?" Ranmir sneered, making no attempts to hide the disdain in his voice. "If it were here we'd be able to spot such an enormous target."
The Harbinger's thoughts were briefly brought back to the days when he'd gone hunting with Aela. "Just because a creature is large, doesn't mean it cant be silent," the young Nord explained. "Hawks don't catch their much smaller prey by screeching in the air all the time. Great patience, and, a considerable altitude are required when they stalk their prey. This, as one would expect from a predator of the sky, applies to dragons as well."
"The truth falls from his lips." Irileth agreed, albeit devoid of any emotion, earning her surprised looks from the group of warriors.
The group approached the tower at a quick but careful pace, weapons drawn, trying their best to avoid the attention of said dragon, though the landscape offered next to nothing to take cover behind. The fear that radiated off the guards was so strong the Harbinger was almost positive he could reach out and grab it by the handful.
"By the Nine…" one of the guards behind him muttered. "It's just like old stories."
"Look at he state of this place," another one piped. "We cant defeat something that caused this much destruction."
The second the group neared the tower's ruined entrance, they spotted a ragged looking guard crouched down, eyes nervously darting in every direction. Seeing the group of warriors seemed to bring even more of his fear to the surface. He flailed his arms about, desperately trying to get them into the safety of the tower.
"What are you doing!?" the man shouted, voice shaky from his terror. "Get inside, quick! That monster is still out there! The others tried to make a run for it, but that beast snatched them all up!"
It was at that very moment the group of warriors noticed four bodies sprawled on the ground, limbs bent to awkward positions.
That explains the lack of activity…, The Harbinger mused.
Ranmir searched the sky for any signs of the creature, frowning when all he saw was the overcast sky above them. "I see nothing," the elite groused, spreading his arms out. "Only dark clouds and a few birds, we came here for no-"
Suddenly, as if from the heavens themselves, an ear splitting roar ripped through the air, the force of it so powerful the Harbinger swore he could feel the ground beneath him tremble. Cold fear gripped the group of Whiterun soldiers, causing a few of them to soil themselves. Roggvar, Irileth and the other two elites kept their composure, though just barley. The Harbinger stood ready for battle, eyes savage and feral, Skyforged swords waiting to be painted with the blood of his enemies, or in this case, enemy.
"By the nine, it's back!" the tower guard cried. "That monster is back!"
The group snapped their heads around, searching for the origin of the roar. Then they saw it. Flying at them at breakneck speed, dark sky making its appearance all the more frightening, was a dragon.
"Hit the floor!" Roggvar shouted.
The Harbinger dived to his right, just narrowly avoiding the ancient creature's razor sharp talons¾and instant death. One of the guards however wasn't so lucky. The dragon snatched the man off the ground and, after climbing to an incredible height, released him from its grasp. The Harbinger watched helplessly as the man plummeted to his death, grateful he could not hear the man hit the ground.
The dragon turned and came at them again, slower, eyes filled with a malicious need to bring death and destruction to all mortal kind.
Springing to her feet, Irileth summoned fourth her strongest lightning spell and turned to the men, shouting for the archers. Despite their fear, each of the bowmen notched an arrow and took aim at the large reptile, waiting for the Housecarl's order to fire.
"Wait for my command," the Dunmer ordered, holding up her fist. When the dragon came within range, she brought her hand down. "Fire!"
The guards fired, the iron tipped shafts sailing through air towards their intended target. The arrows bounced off the dragon's thick scales, much to the horror and dismay of the group of warriors.
Irileth, however, was completely undeterred. "Don't just stand their gawking at the thing, hit it again!" she shouted.
The guards did as they were told and continued to shoot at the ancient creature, desperately trying to penetrate its armor like hide. The dragon circled the group of warriors, eyes bright with murderous intent as it searched for its next victim.
Sheathing the blade in his left hand, the Harbinger took Irileth's lead and began to blast the creature with arcane lightning. The attacks were mildly affective, earning a few pained snarls for their efforts, but the beast refused to go down. Irileth and the Harbinger, along with the archers, kept up their assault, trying their best to bring the fight to the ground.
"Don't stop!" Irileth ordered. "Keep firing until the beast falls!"
Roggvar, Ranmir and Balfring could only watch as Irileth, the guards and the Harbinger worked to bring the large reptile down, for they did not think to bring any bows of their own, nor were they proficient in any form of destruction magic.
Angered that lowly mortals dared to challenge its power, the dragon reared back its head and unleashed a stream of white hot fire down upon them. Four of the guards were caught in the inferno, the flames so intense none of them even had the chance to scream before they were incinerated. Irileth, the three elites and the remaining guards all scattered in an attempt to dodge the blazing inferno.
Despite not being hit directly, the Harbinger felt the pain-felt the scorching heat of the blaze wash over his armored body. He cried out, the pain from the intense heat more than he could have ever expected. Despite the discomfort, the young Nord quickly sprang to his feet and turned towards the Elven Housecarl. Irileth was already back on her feet, blasting the dragon with bolts arcane lightning.
KRIL JOORE, GRAH NOROK.
The Harbinger's head snapped upward at the dragon, stunned by what he'd just heard. Did that thing just speak?
"It talked?!" one of the guards cried. "That dragon just spoke!"
"It matters not, just bring the blasted thing down!" Irileth ordered.
YOL TOOR SHUL!
The dragon released another gout of flame, engulfing one man. The Harbinger's enhanced sense of smell was assaulted by the stench of burning flesh, and he put his hand to his nose in order to keep himself from puking all over the ground. He was so concerned about not hurling his guts out that he barley noticed the dragon diving right at him.
The Harbinger threw himself backwards, the world around him slowing to a crawl, just barley avoiding death for the second time. As he fell, the young Nord mustered all the magicka he could and countered with his most powerful lightning spell: Thunderbolt.
The spell hit home, striking the beast on the its soft underbelly. The dragon let out a pained roar as it flew upward, swaying as it rose into the sky. The Harbinger grinned, he had found the monster's weakness.
"Irileth, tell the archers to aim for its underside!" he barked. "Go for its stomach!"
Unfortunately for them, the dragon had other plans. With a deafening roar, the beast extended its hind legs and landed, crushing another of the guards underfoot, blood and gore staining the blackened ground. Roggvar, Ranmir, Balfring and the remaining Whiterun guards dashed forward the second it touched ground, eager to finally engage their winged foe on solid ground. One of the guardsmen rushed forward and buried his steel sword in its leg, blade biting deep into its flesh. Another charged forward and brought his war axe down on the ancient beast. Encourage by their comrade's sudden display of bravery, the rest of the guardsmen rushed at the dragon, shouting battle cries as the ran towards what could have been their doom.
"A good fight!" Balfring shouted as he slide his blade across the dragons upper thigh.
Roggvar nodded, grinning. "A good fight indeed!"
If the beast was injured, it did not show it. The dragon retaliated with a mighty swing of its thick tail, sending an unfortunate guard hurtling some 30 feet away. Taking advantage of the its distraction, Irileth thrust her sword in deep into the ancient beast's right flank. Roaring in pain, the dragon snaked its head around and snapped at the accursed Elf. Dodging, the Dunmer rolled underneath the monster and slashed at its underbelly.
Unable to reach her, the dragon lifted its massive body and dropped down, intent on flattening the tiny Elf. Irileth swore and dived out from underneath the beast, landing flat on her stomach and right into striking distance of its maw.
Roggvar and the other warriors could only watch in horror as the dragon lashed at her, intent on tearing the Housecarl to shreds. "Irileth!"
Irileth gripped her sword tighter, prepared to drive it through the monster's skull the moment its teeth tore into her. She smiled, happy that she would die for the sake of the city she loved, its people, and most importantly… her Jarl and closest friend.
It has been an honor to serve you, Jarl Balgruuf…
From her peripheral, Irileth saw a sudden flash of light before the dragon that loomed above her was struck on the side of its head by a powerful bolt of lightning. The beast's head snapped to the side, its roar becoming a pitiful whimper none of the warriors thought they would ever hear from a dragon. Irileth pulled her arms over her face as sparks sprinkled down on her, then turned to see where the spell had come from.
Sprinting at full speed, unsheathing his second blade, the Harbinger launched himself forward and drove his blades through the dragon's flesh. The beast let out cry of agony as the Skyforged steel ripped across its body, each strike releasing a fountain of blood that coated the Nord.
Rushing to her side, Roggvar helped the Housecarl to her feet. "Irileth, are you injured?" his voice was steady, but the Elf could detect a hint of worry in his tone.
"Don't worry about me," she said throwing the elite's hand off her shoulder. "Just kill that scaly bastard!"
"Housecarl, look!" the guardsman gestured forward.
Irileth looked up and saw the fight playing out before her. She saw it, but she found it almost impossible to believe. The Harbinger was on the offensive, crisscrossing the dragon's flesh with a blitzkrieg of relentless sword strikes. From what she could see, the dragon could do almost nothing as the Nord skillfully maneuvered in and out of its defense. Irileth and the other warriors watched in complete and utter disbelief as the young leader dueled with the ancient creature, watching its movements, dodging and launching counter attacks when it became too bold.
The dragon snarled.
MEYYE! NIS KRII UNSLAAD!
Filled with cold rage, the beast drew back its neck and lashed at the Nord, quick as a viper strike. The Harbinger-just barley-sidestepped and slashed at its bony snout, earning himself yet another cry of agony from the monster.
Knowing when not to push his luck, the Harbinger dove to the side and out of the dragon's deadly reach. The two enemies circled and glared at one another, each waiting for the slightest movement from the other. Hate and rage reflected in the Dragon's golden orbs, almost palpable, while will and determination filled the Harbinger's. Hearing a sudden chorus of battle cries, the Harbinger turned to see Roggvar, Ranmir, Balfring and the remaining Whiterun guardsmen charging past him, weapons held high.
Not wanting to engage multiple humans in ground combat, the dragon took to the sky, the great flap of its wings sending some of the charging men tumbling across the field. The Harbinger swore. With the dragon now airborne, they were helpless against the fiery assault the beast would undoubtedly bring. Focusing, he searched the deepest parts of himself for any traces of magicka, but found none. The revelation hadn't surprised him. Thunderbolt was his single most powerful destructive spell and required a massive amount of magicka to cast. The fact that he was able to even use the spell twice in a row along with the fact that he was actually able to injure the beast twice was a miracle in itself.
Irileth and the guardsmen were already launching arrow and lightning alike in a desperate attempt to ground the beast. The Harbinger cursed their luck. The guards were beginning to run low on arrows, and Irileth's magicka reserves would eventually go dry. If that happened, they would have no way to defend themselves from the ground, and the dragon would finish them off.
Then, an idea came to him. One so outrageous, so asinine, so utterly insane that the Daedric prince of madness would have been envious he had not thought of it. Sure he had used bold tactics to catch his enemies by surprise before, his fight with the Jackal had proven that, but the plan that was taking form in his mind at present was one that sent a shiver down his spine.
Feeling the beginnings of his doubt creeping in, the Harbinger braced his nerve and darted for the tower. As he ran, he looked over his shoulder to Irileth and shouted, "Hold, I'll draw its attention to me!"
Before the Dunmer could open her mouth to argue, the Harbinger was already at the tower's entrance. To his relief, most of building's stairs were firmly intact. Taking a deep breath, the Nord darted up the steps, twin blades held firmly in his hands. As he bounded onward, he couldn't help but feel a slight tinge of fear rush through him. Despite his determination to stop the dragon's rampage, the Harbinger knew that if the plan he was about to execute failed, death was inevitable.
Emerging from the tower, the Harbinger looked down at the chaos before him. Irileth and the other warriors were fighting valiantly against the seemingly unstoppable creature before them. One of the guardsmen attempted to flank the beast's right side, but was snatched up and subsequently torn to shreds. Their numbers had dropped the second the dragon had appeared and continued to decrease at an alarming rate. If they failed to repel the monster at the tower, it would undoubtedly attack the city once it was finished with them.
Sheathing the blade in his left hand, the Harbinger again searched within himself for any trace of magicka. It was there, but the amount was less than satisfactory for his current needs. Inwardly cursing, he called his Thunderbolt spell into existence in his palm. His magicka low and almost nonexistent, the Harbinger used the only other source of power he knew of.
His own life force.
It was a technique he had learned years ago back in Cyrodiil, when he was still yet a novice warrior under the tutelage of his mentor. The man had explained to him that an individual who found themselves drained of their magicka could utilize their very life force to cast a spell. Though convenient in certain situations, the technique itself was extremely dangerous and fatal if overused.
The Harbinger charged the spell to its maximum capacity, careful not to draw out too much of his life energy. It felt strange. He had only ever resorted to using the dangerous technique years ago in Cyrodiil, and it had almost killed him. The electricity surged from the palm of his hand all the way up to his shoulder, crackling loudly, begging for release. He did not fight it. Thrusting his arm outward, the Harbinger hurled the bolt of lightning at the dragon.
The spell struck the beast directly in its unprotected flank, the force of the blow knocking it to the floor and sending sparks showering down.
Rising back on its feet, the dragon craned its massive neck, locked eyes with the Nord and snarled.
MEYYE JOORE!
Rising high, the dragon circled the tower, golden eyes gleaming with destructive purpose.
QIILAAN AHRK NAHKIP DROG ALDUINI KRONGRAH!
Ignoring whatever it was the dragon had said to him, the Harbinger tightened the grip on his free blade and waited for his moment to strike. The dragon circled again, once, twice, and on the third go around, the Harbinger made his move. Rushing forward as fast as he could, young Nord bellowed a battle cry and leapt off the tower.
Irileth and the other warriors looked on in disbelief, awed by the boy's audacity to even attempt such a feat. Either he was incredibly brave, or utterly insane.
"What in Oblivion does that fool think he's doing!?" Balfring exclaimed.
Roggvar shook his head. "He's an even bigger fool than I thought!"
The Harbinger felt a strange mixture of pure exhilaration and utter terror. If he made it onto the creature's back, like he planned, bringing it down would be a lot easier and the death of more men could be averted. If he missed, he'd likely wake up in Sovengarde, the one place he didn't wish to visit at the moment. It was often said by the other members of the Companions that his survival of situations that would kill even the most seasoned warriors was a result of the favor of the gods.
Though he was far from religious, he believed that they been watching over him at that very moment.
With the grace of a drunken mammoth, the Harbinger slammed onto the dragon's back. Grabbing hold of one of the monster's spikes with his free hand, the young Nord sheathed his sword and dragged himself towards his intended target: the base of the wing. The Harbinger thanked his luck that he had received next to no injuries during his battle with the beast on the ground. It was hard enough trying to drag himself across the giant reptile with all the wind resistance he was moving against, injuries would only have made things worse.
After what seemed like hours of climbing, the Harbinger reached the base of the dragon's left wing. Strangely enough, the beast did not seem to take notice of him, and just flew lazily around the tower. That was fine his him. The less the giant lizard knew of what he was about to do, the better. Glancing down, the Harbinger saw that Irileth and the others had vanished, most likely inside the tower.
The dragon also seemed to take note of his revelation.
DREH NI UNT WAH FILOK! FAH HIU POOK SE FAAS AHRK ZU FEN SIIV!
Pulling the blade from his right hip free, the Harbinger made his move. Flipping his blade backhand, the Nord drove his sword through the dragon's flesh, stopping only when he hit bone. The beast's flight wavered, though not enough to force a landing. Yanking his blade free, the Harbinger slashed at the wound over and over, desperate to bring the ancient creature to the ground. The dragon howled in agony as the Nord continued to bring down blow after blow, warm blood and chunks of flesh raining down in the ground below as the Harbinger hacked away at the beast's wing.
Desperate to unhinge the boy, the dragon preformed a series of aerial acrobatics, spins and loops. The Harbinger swore loudly as the dragon somersaulted in the air but kept a firm hold on the monster's back. Try as it might, the dragon could not manage to dislodge the boy, no matter what complicated maneuver it tried.
As the dragon righted itself, the Harbinger gripped his blade and prepared to make his final move. Bellowing a fierce battle cry, the young Nord delivered a brutal blow to the beast's wounded wing, sending a fountain of blood skyward. Roar turning to whimper, the dragon finally plummeted to the floor below, howling in both pain and unbridled rage.
Wind whistling in his ear as he fell, the Harbinger uttered a series of curses as the beast fell to the ground like a rock. The young Nord was thrown off by the impact, tumbling end over end until he skidded to a stop and ceased to move. The dragon's crash landing created a trench in the ground, plowing through the dirt and stone before it too was still.
Rushing out of the tower, Irileth and the other warriors gaped as soon as their eyes beheld the sight before them. Looking to her right, the Housecarl noticed the unmoving body of the young Harbinger.
"Is he… alive?" asked one of the guards, voicing her very thoughts.
"I don't think anyone could have survived as crash like that." Ranmir retorted.
"What about the dragon?" another guard piped up, gesturing towards the beast. "Is it dead?"
"Look!" another guardsman shouted as he pointed where the Harbinger lay. "He rises, he's alive!"
Body wracked with pain and regretting his foolish actions, the Harbinger attempted to rise to his feet only to fail when a sharp pain coursed through his left foot and shoulder. Fighting back the pain, the Harbinger did a quick inspection of himself and swore. The impact had broken his left foot, dislocated his left shoulder, and, as far as he could tell, broke at least four of his ribs. Worse still, he discovered he'd dropped one of the swords Eorlund crafted for him. The Nord searched the deepest parts of himself for any magicka that may have returned to his body, but found none, and using even the smallest amount of his life force could kill him in the condition he was in.
Glancing to the left, the Harbinger gazed at the dragon that lay motionless a few yards from where he sat. It was strange, he should have been basking in the glory of such a kill, his chest swelling with pride, yet he felt nothing but dread. He killed a dragon, he killed a creature many thought invincible, a creature that had once enslaved his kind, so why this feeling?
Staggering back to his feet, careful not to stand on his left, the Harbinger limped back to the tower. As he walked, he considered putting his shoulder back in its socket but decided to let Danica and the medicus deal with his injuries. Irileth and the other warriors strode towards him, the guards raising their weapons in the air and shouting in triumph. Roggvar, Ranmir and Balfring looked upon the Harbinger with the same disdain as they always had, though to a lesser extent if any. Irileth looked past him at the dragon, face cold and emotionless as stone.
As the guards waved him down, the Harbinger noticed the dragon begin to stir. Adrenaline surging, the Harbinger held out his still functioning right arm. "Stay away!"
Rising up, the dragon drew back its neck and loosed a roar that rattled the Nord's very bones. His fear returning, the Nord decided he wouldn't wait for proper treatment of his shoulder and promptly shoved it back in place with yell. His vision flickered as a wave of pain shot through his body, his fear and adrenaline the only things keeping him from losing consciousness. The Harbinger drew the blade from his left hip and pointed it towards the dragon, openly challenging the beast to face him.
The beast snarled. ZU FEN AG MALJUNAAR VOUS ZU KRII!
Then, with speed that belied its massive body, the beast charged the Nord. Ignoring the pain in his foot, the Harbinger followed the dragon's lead and ran towards it. Rearing its neck back the monster snapped at the tiny mortal, but got only a mouthful of empty air as the Nord slid beneath its neck. As he was sliding, the Harbinger swung his blade upwards, Skyforged steel biting into the beast's soft flesh. The dragon roared into the sky in pain, but the Nord's assault was far from being over.
Gripping the sword with both hands, the Harbinger slashed at the side of the dragon's neck, warm blood splashing across his face and armor, drenching his hair. The once mighty roars the dragon bellowed slowly turned into pitiful whimpers of agony as the Nord continued to deliver blow after blow to the beast. The dragon would attempt a retaliation, snapping at the Nord, only for the warrior to maneuver away from its dagger like maw and counter.
Despite the screams of protest from his injuries, the Harbinger kept up his assault, relentless in his attacks. He couldn't explain why, but fighting the dragon felt right, as if he had been born for this very purpose. He didn't know why, but he felt as if something inside him was driving him to face the dragon, to kill it. Whatever it was, the Harbinger did not fight it. Wanting to put some distance between them, the young Nord dived away from the creature and took a defensive stance.
The dragon's body was bloody with long, narrow lacerations across its neck and deep puncture wounds along its body. Despite its pitiful state, the beast glared at the Nord and roared in defiance.
Time to end this…
Bellowing his battle cry, the Harbinger charged the dragon, sword gripped firmly in his hands. Quick as a lightning, the beast's neck shot forward. Sidestepping the strike, the Harbinger leapt onto the dragon's head and drove his blade through its eye, and into its brain. With a final roar, the dragon shuddered and collapsed. Yanking his blade free, the Harbinger jumped off the ancient creatures skull and fell to the ground, exhausted.
Rushing to his aid, Irileth and the other warriors gathered around the young Harbinger. A few of the remaining guards helped the Nord to his feet, slapping his back and congratulating him on his victory over the dragon.
"That was just about the most foolish thing I've ever witnessed anyone do." Irileth said.
Balfring snorted. "Foolish? It was downright insane!"
"What could possibly have been going through your head to even attempt such a thing?" Roggvar demanded, stepping closer to the Companion.
"All the mead he and those other Companions drink must be laced with Skooma, if you ask me." Ranmir concluded.
Anger replacing his pain, the Harbinger opened his mouth to say something but was stopped by Irileth.
"I didn't see any of you leap off a tower and kill a dragon." she snapped, crimson eyes boring through each of the elites.
Suddenly, like a piece of parchment being thrown into a fire pit, the dragon's skin began to burn away, and a swirling vortex of power surrounded the Harbinger, lifting him off the ground. Irileth and the others edged away from the Nord, some raising their weapons.
As the power continued to worm its way inside him, the young Nord felt oddly at peace with himself, as if the burdens of his past had been washed away in a river divine absolution. Things that had once confused him now made sense, and the world seemed… more. The questions that once haunted him in his dreams vanished, and was replaced by the knowledge of who he was… and what he was destined to do.
No longer was there any reason to hide from the world who he was, no longer did he need to run from the ghosts of his bloody past, for he was free of the apprehension and fear that had once held an iron grip over his very being. He was free, and he would not let the sins of his past dictate his future.
Then, as quickly as it began, it ended, and the Nord fell to the floor. Then, understanding slowly settled into his brain. The markings he saw upon the wall in Bleak Falls made sense to him now. Standing, the Harbinger looked up into the sky and let lose the power he felt within himself.
"FUS!"
The guards and the others slowly made their way towards the young Nord, looks of disbelief and shock upon their faces.
"It… it cant be." Ranmir stammered, unbelieving. "He cant be…"
"By the gods..." Balfring muttered.
"It's just like the legends!" one of the guards shouted.
Another stepped forward, eyes wide and slack jawed. "I don't believe it, you're... Dragonborn!"
"Just who in Oblivion are you, boy?" Roggvar asked.
Rising to his feet, the Harbinger slowly turned to the group of warriors and looked each of them in the eye, expression calm and serene.
"Spartacus."
Irileth was about to speak when a boom of thunder and a rumble that shook the very foundations of Skyrim cut her off.
"DOV-AH-KIIN!"
And the call was felt by all far and wide.
A/N: Hello everyone, it's me again. As you can see, I'm not dead, and don't have any plans to expire anytime soon. I apologize about the lateness of this chapter, but was you can see, it was an extremely long and tedious task. I tried to make my dragon fight as exciting as possible, if it's not to your liking I am truly sorry. On the bright side, we now know the identity of our mysterious Harbinger! I don't know what everyone will think about the name, but the historical Spartacus is someone that I'm really interested in, hell I used to do reports on him in school. Not only that, but the TV series is awesome and I love the name so Spartacus it is!
Well, now that we know what the Harbinger's name is, it's time to move the story forward and eventually out of the Whiterun hold. That reminds me, regarding the holds of Skyrim you'll notice that I've expanded on them a great deal, they'll be A LOT larger than their in game counterparts and have areas that are not in the game so as to fit the story, so keep that in mind. I want to thank all the peeps who reviewed, favorited, and followed the story, you guys deserve cookies. Until we meet again!
~BANG!
Translation Guide:
KRIL JOORE, GRAH NOROK. - Brave mortals, you battle fiercely.
YOL TOOR SHUL! - Fire Sun Inferno! (If you don't know what this is, you need to get out)
MEYYE! NIS KRII UNSLAAD! - Fools! You Cannot kill an immortal!
MEYYE JOORE! - Foolish mortals!
QIILAAN AHRK NAHKIP DROG ALDUINI KRONGRAH! - Surrender and fuel Lord Alduin's conquest!
DREH NI UNT WAH FILOK! FAH HIU POOK SE FAAS AHRK ZU FEN SIIV! - Don't try to hide! For you stink of fear and I will find you!
ZU FEN AG MALJUNAAR VOUS ZU KRII! - I will burn your city after I kill you!