Season 1: Dragonborn | Arc 1: Thrown into Chaos
Hey, guys! Sorry it took so long! I've been a little busy (playing Skyrim and getting useless mods: Sofia).
Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY, that belongs to Monty Oum and Rooster Teeth, extensively. I do not own The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, that belongs to Bethesda and any other company affiliated in the making. I do, however, own any and all OCs as well as twisted Plot/Canon.
A/N: I have made some changes from the actual dialogue because I am too lazy to copy exactly what people say. Besides, that's boring. Haven't you already played through that hell once (or multiple times, like me)? I'm making changes, deal with it. As for last chapter, sorry for the off-chronology there. I was trying to go from future to past, to future to past, and finally, present. You'll get what I mean. He was on the Mother of Invention when he was recording and when he called for the camcorder from Serana. Keep that in mind.
Now, for the love of God, let this Fanfiction begin!
-= *Memory* =-
Jaune couldn't remember a damn thing as far as he could tell. What he believed used to be his memories - or where he dreamt of his memories - was a black space occupying the disappearance. Amnesia. He really wished he could remember something. He really wanted to have some company. Though now, he seemed content with it as he curled into a ball in the empty space. He could get used to it, as long as no one disturbed him.
Oh, and the blurry vision.
He was regaining consciousness, and he seemed not to like it. I have to go to- ... - again. He couldn't make out that one word. Maybe he was too fuzzy to remember, or something was holding the memory back. He would get to the bottom of this!
He finally awoke groggily to the smell of the natural outdoor life. The grass, trees. Oblivion, he could actually smell stone. He didn't mind, though, as he was wondering what in Oblivion he was doing in a freaking cart binded like a thief!
He hadn't the faintest memory of the reason why he believed he screamed so loud.
"Ugh," Jaune groaned. The man in front of him, binded just as he, looked to him.
"Ah, are you awake?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Jaune asked rather brashly, though the grogginess was apparent.
"Sorry," he said. "You've been unconscious for an hour or so."
"Really?" he asked less groggily, as he was more awake now. "Where am I?" he looked around at the snowy landscape. Dead trees - from what he could see from the leafless branches - littered the area lightly above a thick layer of snow. Albeit the thick layer, he could see the stones in the road sticking out visibly.
"We're just outside of Helgen," replied the blonde man. "Skyrim," he emphasized.
"What's that?" Jaune asked as he brought his binded hands up to rub his eyes.
"Is this some sort of joke?" asked the man, though not angrily.
"No," he said. "I don't know why, but I can't remember anything..."
"Other than your Nordic tongue, luckily."
"What?" he said. "What's Nordic tongue."
"Language, silly boy," replied the man mirthfully.
"I thought we were speaking English," Jaune said.
"I have no idea what that is, but at least you're alive. But, unfortunately, you're in custody with the Empire."
"What?" Jaune asked.
Ignoring him, the man on the blonde's left - a skinny thing - said, "If it weren't for you Stormcloaks," he said with contempt. "I would have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell."
"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, horse thief," he dubbed him.
"What's up with him?" he asked as he nodded towards the man on Jaune's right.
"Watch your tongue!" the blonde snapped. "That's Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!"
"Wait..." the horse thief went. "Jarl Ulfric? You're the leader of the rebellion?" That hit Jaune hard. He hoped he wasn't considered a part of this rebellion. "Oh, gods, where are they taking us?!"
"I don't know," the blonde said. "But Sovngarde awaits."
Something told Jaune that he didn't want to go there.
"Where are you from, horse thief?" asked the blonde.
"Why do you care?" the horse thief quipped back.
"When a Nord is coming closer to his death, he should be thinking of home."
"Rorikstead," the horse thief said with nostalgia. "I'm from Rorikstead."
"Shut up back there!" the driver snapped.
Jaune finally looked forward to see the man, only to see a cobblestone gate and a wooden roof covering it. Behind said gate - and walls surrounding so - was a large town with towers dotting the middle of it. The wooden houses wrapped around the inside of the wall, the markets and inns around the middle, giving a nice winding path through town. Jaune decided this might be a nice place to settle down had he not been taken through there in custody.
"This is Helgen," the blonde said to no one particularly. "I used to be sweet on a girl here...I wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with Juniper Berries mixed in."
The word 'Juniper' made Jaune want to cry, but he held back.
"Wait, Helgen?!" the horse thief cried. "Akatosh, Julianos, Stendarr, Mara, Zenithar! Have mercy!"
As they went through the gate, a man in what seemed like a general's armor was on a horse, facing what looked like an elf wearing some pretty decent armor the color of bronze on his own horse, and the two seemed to be conversing. Imperials and other elf-like people wearing similar armor were surrounding and protecting the two men and giving the people in the carts dirty looks, especially Jaune.
"Look at that," the blonde changed demeanors from nostalgia to anger. "General Tullius and the Thalmor. They probably put him up to this, the cowards!"
Jaune needed to keep a journal or something, lest he forget all these words.
Blonde went back to the nostalgia now as they were careened through the city. "Funny..." he said. "Imperial walls used to make me feel so safe."
"They make me want to puke..." Jaune muttered. "And I've never seen this place before...or anything like it."
Blonde heard all too well. "Haha, you're right. Same here."
There was another little gate entrance, but they did not go through it. Instead, they parked the carriages to the side and called them down.
"Get them off the carts!" a stern female voice called from below.
Two carts, one captain, two list-readers was all Jaune wanted to say. But, now he could see the rags that held these 'Stormcloaks' in their name.
Chainmail behind what Jaune considered the worst blue cloth he had ever seen. And that's saying something, because he thought that blue was the best color in the history of mankind. The others simply wore rags, or this Ulfric wore majestic fur and what seemed like directly skinned fur as a cape. Jaune wondered why earlier he wasn't speaking and finally noticed the gag on him.
"Empire loves their damn lists," blonde said angrily as they were getting off the carts.
They called up the Stormcloaks from the other wagon. "Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak of Windhelm," said the Imperial kindly up ahead.
"It's been an honor serving with you, Ulfric!" blonde said.
"Ralof of Riverwood."
So that's his name, Jaune thought.
"Lokir of Rorikstead."
"No!" the man cried as he defiantly stepped forward. "This is a mistake! We aren't with them!"
He took off, running the way they came. Instead, "Archers!" the woman called, and a barrage of three arrows lodged into the man's back, making him fall face first into the cold hard ground.
"Anyone else feeling like running?" the woman asked.
"Wait," the Imperial man said after a while. "Step forward."
Jaune did so with a large gulp, hoping he hadn't done anything wrong.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I don't really remember much," Jaune said. "I think I have amnesia, but I remember my name being Jaune..." he trailed off, thinking hard. "A-...Ar-...Arc? Arc," he said. "Jaune Arc."
"Captain," he whispered to the woman. "He's not on the list, what do we do?"
"Damn the list," she said. "He goes to the block."
Jaune felt a pang of hatred and remorse now. And he knew who went into which category by now.
"I'm sorry, kinsman," the Imperial said. "At least you'll be dying in your homeland."
Jaune considered this his homeland from then on, but ignored it for now. Because right now, he was about to get his head chopped off.
Two soldiers were careening supplies that seemed to be their items and he noticed a sword embedded into a shield. Then, he remembered.
That's his. And he's not about to let them have it. Jaune was furious. It seemed highly important to him, and they were hauling it around like pork chop.
Ignoring the Captain's harsh words at him, Jaune sped by everyone in the group and tackled the guard, sending the items to the ground.
Jaune felt something. Survival. That...instinct...needed at the most perilous times for man. And this was a perilous moment for him. And he knew exactly how he wanted to survive. Or die, perhaps.
If he was going to die, he wasn't going to do it without defiance for something he hadn't done. And that woman is the first one he's running through with his sword.
He quickly unsheathed the sword, to which glinted the sun so much it burnt through a many eyes. He spun about not knowing what was going on. And by sheer luck, one of the soldiers who held out their sword too much, cut right through the bindings. Jaune smiled slyly now as he recovered the shield and aimed it right at the woman.
"This is for your injustice!" Jaune yelled as he charged the woman. Just as she recovered her sight, she was run through by Jaune.
"Im-Impossible..." the woman groaned as she fell back.
Jaune wasn't about to let the Stormcloaks' praise get the best of him and he made quick work of some of the other guards. He cut the bindings on the Stormcloaks and turned to the Jarl that was about to be beheaded.
"I'm still on to you about this rebellion business," Jaune informed, not making a move to the bindings as the man steeled into his eyes. Jaune didn't hesitate. "If this is about racism or something, I'll join the Empire to prove that anyone can be here and it could still be anyone's land, or I'll prove you wrong straight up in front of everyone then join your rebellion. As far as I know, I have absolutely no idea what's going on, and that is exactly why I have no care for you or the Empire...yet." Jaune vowed it exactly like he wanted and it had the desired effect. He pulled the man's gag off as he undid the bindings with his sword.
"Thank you for the pep talk, Jaune Arc," he said, remembering his name. Jaune felt a little overpowered by the strength in his words, good or no. "I'll think about it."
Jaune nodded and before they headed into the tower, a black monstrosity fell upon the top of it. Looking and staring down Jaune with its fiery yellow eyes. It breathed in and out a few times. It's inhaling pushed out its black scales, and its exhaling relaxed its dark wings that fluttered a little at seeing Jaune. It's inhales seemed to trail whispy fog into its large nose and exhaled the same fog but with a darker tint. Its tail spun about a little profusely before turning and locking his gaze directly at Jaune. It breathed in heavily once before readying for something.
"Dragon!" an Imperial yelled, aiming his bow from Jaune to the dragon.
"Faan. Lok. Mahfil," the dragon bellowed.
The sky turned dark with gray clouds, surrounding the small home of Helgen in its dirty embrace before meteors began to fall. The flaming rocks careened into soldiers left and right, and Jaune couldn't help but stand there in all its horror. He couldn't do a damn thing at the sight of the evil creature. It radiated with a type of Aura he never felt before. And he felt right about then that he was going to do something about this thing, and possibly, kill it.
The thought of it, however, was pierced by a spear of words.
"Fus...Ro Dah!" the dragon let out, launching he and Ulfric back.
"We need to go!" Jaune yelled, first on his feet - unnaturally (unbeknownst to Jaune) had anyone seen such a feat. He picked up Ulfric and dragged him through the second gate, running for dear life. As they went through the gate, fire was bellowed through the the top of the gate, destroying it completely and sending debris and large cobblestone bricks towards them as they ran down the slope. The rocks and destroyed bits of gate rolled over and over again as they beckoned towards Jaune and Ulfric.
"Inside!" Jaune yelled, shoving Ulfric to the side and into a building with other Stormcloaks. Jaune ran his way down the street further, the debris gaining on him. He needed to get inside the keep whether anyone liked it or not.
He dodged off to the side as the raging debris were sated, finally coming to slow halt. Jaune felt the need to nod at the rand bits of rock and crap he had to dodge and gave in. He looked off to his right and charged toward the new ensuing feud within another.
The Imperial reading them off the list from earlier and Ralof saw each other just up ahead. As Jaune ran down, he felt a connection between the two. Whether he liked it or not, they were related and they hated each other for taking different sides.
"Ralof, you damned traitor! Out of my way!"
"We're escaping Hadvar, and you can't stop us!"
Ralof wielded a lone ax as this Hadvar wielded a fine sword. It angered Jaune to his limit. He guessed the Empire was a little more racist than Ulfric, but he'd soon change that...
Somehow...
The dragon flew right over them, grazing Jaune's back heavily - sending more pain than there should have throughout his body. The dragon's talon ripped through Hadvar like he was nothing, sending the bits of flesh, bone and blood into every direction and serving head from body. However, it completely missed Ralof but a hair's inch.
"Come on, Jaune!" Ralof yelled, puling at Jaune and dragging him to the Keep. "We have to go! The gods'll never give us another chance!"
Jaune tried his best to remain his vision and his steps as he was helped into the building.
Never again will he ever vow to someone he doubt would live.
Jaune breathed heavily as he was thrown to the other side of the tower by a fatigued Ralof. He missed the dead Stormcloak barely as he landed face first into the wall.
"Gunjar!" Ralof yelled, running over to the dead Stormcloak. "We will meet again in Sovngarde, brother," Ralof said as he looked up to Jaune. "Take his gear, he won't be needing it anymore."
Jaune did as he was told, removing the ragged garment that held over his body before looking at a black piece of clothing closely. It was red within and it reminded him profusely about a specific person he couldn't put his finger on. Someone he may have even liked. Hair, maybe?
He'd remember eventually.
Somehow...
"We need a key to get out of this gate," Ralof said over to Jaune's right. Jaune looked over to his left and saw a gate-door.
"There's a gate over here," Jaune said. "But it looks like it can only be opened from the other side."
Jaune had still been hurting by that claw strike from the dragon earlier. He felt something seep into him. Something he doesn't like. It may even invade that darkness of dreamspace he had liked so very much earlier, and he didn't like that. He may figure it out later, whether he likes it or not. And the pain. Oh, the pain was gone physically...but eh could feel it mentally now...
"You're right," Ralof said as he walked over. As he met up with the gate, he said, "We can cut it down with-"
Shouting was heard from the other side of that hallway.
"Imperials!" Ralof whispered. "Get over here!"
Jaune ducked behind Ralof as the Imperial was telling the other to hurry.
There was a male gray elf person, and a female version of what everyone was calling a Nord. Jaune was obviously not used to any of these words. He'll buy a journal and be on his merry way some time later.
"If we run into any Stormcloaks, they could kill us! I would only ask you listen-"
"Fine!" the other seethed angrily. He sighed heavily. "We'll try to make friends with any Stormcloak we see. It's the only way we'll survive out of here. Maybe we could even join them."
"Hmm," the female hummed before touching the lever. "The only problem I have Ulfric - it's not stopping me, mind you - is that he seems a little-"
"Racist," the one in front of the gate said. "I'm not even a Nord, do you even think he'll let me in."
The gate opened, and an empty handed Ralof walked up. "I'll see to that," he said.
"Huh?" the gray - or whatever color - elf in front of the gate asked. "Really? You mean it?"
"I can help you talk him down," Jaune said. "I already vowed to Ulfric I'd be doing something to hurt his reputation lest he doesn't change his attitude on race."
"Yes," Ralof said a little annoyed. He didn't like working with Imperials, but if they're going to defect, why not?
"Open the other door," Jaune said. "It's the only way out."
"Got it!" the female yelled happily.
Jaune turned to the other and asked for their names. "I'm Doragon Klepto, a Dunmer. Eighteen years of age. The happy little 16 year old girl up there is Kila Nirvana. We met on a job."
"What kind?"
"The killing kind," he said. "We were hired by a lord named Dupan to kill his brothers who were the ones that are supposed to take their parents' inheritance in ten years. That was six years ago, now."
"What happened?" Jaune asked as Kila finally got the door open and their heading down the massive curling stairs.
"Dupan's brothers had no idea he was sending mercenaries out for them, but they had mercenaries of their own. They were Thalmor! We couldn't take them, so Kila and I decided to leave the others behind. They were cutthroats anyway, we didn't care too much for them. Besides, I wouldn't say too little of myself if I'm talking about cutthroats."
"Huh?" Jaune asked. "And...you were twelve on this job?"
"I have ties with the Thieves Guild in Riften. It's why Dupan asked for me specifically."
"And Kila?"
"Her parents were affiliated with the Dark Brotherhood. She...inherited...a few attributes...from them," he paused between moments as he remembered.
"Oh," Jaune said, feigning understanding as he had still no idea what the Oblivion was going on!
"What about you?" the Dunmer said. "How'd you become a Stormcloak?"
Jaune hesitated trying to find some sort of alibi, but Ralof cut him off. Jaune was extremely grateful as it was, need he owe him more?
"He's not official," Ralof said. "I only had him wear that armor to survive down here."
"Hey, look!" Kila said at the bottom of the stairs. "Other Stormcloaks!"
Right as the other three came down to see them far on the other side of the hallway, the ceiling caved in right above them, separating the groups.
"Damn!" Doragon seethed as he kicked some rubble. "That dragon doesn't let up, does he?!"
"Through here!" Jaune bellowed, kicking the door down to the left. The four flowed in as three Imperials were looting the room. "Now, look, we don't want to fi-"
"Die, rebel!" one yelled as he swung the massive war hammer around. Jaune was used to this for some reason and took on the brunt of the attack. Literally. "What the-?!" the man seethed.
Jaune opened his eyes to see a massive white glow, like a whispy white hand, sticking out his left arm, holding back the war hammer. "Something tells me I'm used to this!" he yelled as he unsheathed his sword and ran the Imperial through.
The other two saw the attack as the large Imperial fell to the floor. Jaune's sword, doused in blood, shined eagerly in the pale torchlight in the room. They stared at him wide eyed as he stood up - since he was lightly crouching - and he looked directly at them. "We don't want to fight," he said. "Yield."
"For the Empire!" they yelled and they charged him, no longer afraid. Jaune slammed the back of his left forearm on his sheath and two leather strips extended from the top and wrapped around his forearm, reattaching to underneath his arm. The sheath widened into a shield and he pulled it up to defend himself. As the two left Imperials charged, two yellow arcs were all they saw with a background of steel before two swords and an ax descended onto them, killing them instantly.
"Good job," Ralof said, punching Jaune's shoulder lightly.
"Thanks," Jaune said and told the Imperials help him loot the room. If the Imperials were after something, surely they could use it as well. "What's this?" he asked Kila.
"That's a Stamina potion," she said as he lifted the green bottle up to her. "One swig of that and you'll have a burst of strength and breath."
"Good," Jaune said as he picked up the other two colored bottles.
"Health," she pointed at the red bottle. "And Magicka," she pointed at the blue bottle.
He pocketed the Health potion. "What's Magicka?" he asked.
"Very few ask that question," Doragon interrupted as he hurried past them, beckoning them with. "Magicka, you'll learn about later. Just hurry."
"Ready?" Ralof asked at the door. He stuck it open a little before looking down. "I've been here before," he said a little shakily.
"I really wish we never needed that room," Kila shivered.
"Wait," Jaune said. "What room?"
"The torture room..." Doragon answered slowly with fear.
Jaune shivered the most, least to say.
"Die, Imperial bastard!" the Stormcloak yelled as he charged the Torturer.
"Die!" the man said as his assistant simply rose a steel shield in the way.
"Damn!" the Stormcloak rebel seethed. "Get them!" he yelled, holding down the shield so the assistant couldn't move.
"Sparks, Fire or Frost, you will die by my hand!" the torturer yelled angrily as he sent a wisp of electricity to his left, killing that rebel, and a flamethrower at the other, killing him as well.
He aimed his hands towards the middle and fired a descent spray of frost at the third, freezing him entirely.
The assistant took back his shield and bashed the icicle, shattering him entirely.
"Damn you!" came a voice from above. Two Imperials stormed in, angry as Oblivion, and charged the torturers.
"Traitors!" the assistant called as two more Stormcloaks burst in.
In a few moments, both were dead, and the four of them scouted the room out.
"Kila," Jaune called, beckoning her into the cage-like room. He tossed her a shield. "Maces aren't that very good alone," he said.
"Whatever," she said, albeit smiling. Doragon made quick work of the middle cage in the room, unlocking it with lock picks.
"I'll need to learn how to do that," Jaune said as Doragon looted the gold and potions. He tossed Jaune two books from the befallen robed man.
"What are these," he said, looking at the unusual symbols.
"Read them," he said. "You're going to have to learn about magic sometime."
"I'll read them later," Jaune said, noticing a book on a lone table. "Hmm," he hummed as he read the cover. "The Return of the Dragonborn," he read aloud. "I'll be taking this as well..." he trailed off as he pocketed the book into the bag he looted earlier. "Damn this thing is spacey!"
"I know, right?!" Kila yelled happily. "Apparently, it has ties to a specific place in Oblivion, devoid of Ideal Masters or your normal Deadric Prince."
"Okay," Jaune said simply, noting to research all of this later if he had to.
"Come on!" Ralof yelled, and the three ran through the doorway.
The four carried on throughout the long hallway, three cages on either side. Jaune hesitated and contemplated whether or not to gain experience by picking the other locks. Doragon put a knowing hand on his shoulder to placate him and beckoned them forward with Ralof and Kila who were undoubtedly already dispatching of some poor Imperials who failed to help them in their quest to escape the town of Helgen before that dragon destroyed it entirely.
Jaune and Doragon descended into the room and were more than pleased to find it rid of the ever-loyal Imperialists.
"Good job," Jaune said in a mocking tone but with a joking edge to it that did not go unheard by Ralof from the irony of those words. He lightly punched the other blonde's shoulder before all four of them came up short to a raised bridge over a tiny chasm.
"I'll get it," Doragon offered as he flipped the massive switch to the other side and the bridge came down. As they spilled into the small amount of man-made cobble area, the area behind them collapsed as the dragon destroyed yet again another piece of fine and expensive property and at the same time decimating the ground behind them as if knowing of the four's location.
"We're not going back out that way," Kila said.
"Obviously," Jaune muttered, though no one heard him.
"The others'll make it out, I'm sure," Ralof assured them. "For now, we must press on."
Jaune noticed the broken gate to their left as they descended into the cave system, noting that may have been going all the way to were the bridge collapsed from earlier. All the same, the river beckoned from it - most likely the town's filth and sewer - came down and sifted loose rocks down to pebble and stone. And they walked upon this smooth path - if it could be called that by the rocks themselves as they all put together like this made them hard pressed not to break a leg from a sheer misstep.
And something bothered him about his leg breaking, and for some reason it was placed in the category of the guy with that war hammer.
He would definitely get to the bottom of this mystery!
...eventually...somehow...
"Damn!" Ralof seethed, punching a large lodged boulder in the way. "There's no going that way."
Kila was already going down the obvious path to the right and Ralof promptly followed, an annoyed Jaune and Doragon following close behind.
"Was it always this way in the Empire?" Jaune asked. "Where someone would say something obvious and someone else would do something obvious?"
"To be honest," Doragon spoke up, the two unheard by the Nords. "I have absolutely no idea what drives the Nords to do such tedious things."
"You know..." Jaune said, trailing off shortly as they turned left. "I keep on telling myself I'd figure something out-"
"And you never can, can you?" Doragon finished for him. "It's always been that way in Skyrim..."
They turned right.
A scream was heard from beneath the ground.
"Some girly Dunmer is in trouble!" an Imperial yelled, sending another steel arrow in the dragon's direction.
"I'm pretty sure that wasn't a female Dunmer...but whatever you say..." his friend deadpanned as he fired another arrow, similar to the other, right at the dragon.
It had the desired effect, but the undesired effect came as the dragon landed and ate the man whole for shooting him too low.
Ralof was done laughing now.
"Are you done?" Doragon seethed as Ralof halted.
"I'm sorry..." he chuckled a little more. "At first, before I even met him..." his eyes landed on Jaune, who quickly reeled back. "...he screamed so loud it dwarfed Vilod's-"
Kila punched Ralof, knowing what he was getting at.
Jaune, stunned, leaned over to Doragon. "How does she-"
"Her friends were known to doing it around her too much," he whispered back, hand over his mouth as to not incur the wrath of his fellow Imperial, who had been sixteen.
"Ah," Jaune sighed as he leaned back into his original position as Ralof and Kila began arguing about how something is noble and whatnot.
Eventually, the two bears-eh, pairs heard a growl in the cave.
"Bear!" Kila whispered, but like a yell, it carried into the bear's chamber, arousing the bear's awakening. "I think this is the part where we either kill it quickly or run like a Khajiit high on Moon Sugar..."
"I vote on running," Jaune quipped quickly.
"Killing," Ralof said bluntly.
"We should kill it," Kila said with a magnificent fist. "For honor. We're no milkdrinkers!"
"I vote on sneaking around it..."
"Well...we're at an impasse, then," Ralof said, after hearing Doragon's admittance to the voting session. "But..." he started. "I think that bear made the decision for us..." he said slowly as the four took glance at the massive bear before them. It stood on its hind legs and barked out at them for his territory.
"Run..." Jaune said simply before the bear roared loudly and charged the fleeing group of four.
"I thought we would never make it!" cheered Doragon as the exited what seemed like a a massive crack that only a human could make through. As they ran through, however, something caught on Kila's foot, causing a chain of events that both helped them by caving in the bear and kind of ruined the idea of escape by trapping Kila beneath rock.
"Ow!" she yelled in pain as the boulder threatened to rip from its wedged place between two well-placed walls and would plunge into her back, killing her instantly.
"Kila!" Doragon yelled in fear as he leapt, but Jaune held him at bay. "What are you doing?!" he screeched angrily.
"I am not only going to learn your weird magic," Jaune said, pulling up a hand to them. "But I need to learn my own as well..."
He called forth that essence that protected him from whatever that dragon Shouted at him.
He felt his blood boil in the sunlight.
He called forth that whispy white tail that protected him from that brute's war hammer.
He felt a type of liquid poor from him.
He felt a foreign power and beckoned on it, as it showed of crimson and glowed black, obscuring his white whispy trail.
The iron rock began to lift from the two walls it had been wedged into.
And Doragon and Ralof proceeded to pull the girl out, barely catching Jaune as he slumped back. As Jaune went cold, however, the dragon that attacked Helgen flew over with a knowing roar at approval of Jaune's tenacity to get the girl out...
He needed to work on that.
No, really. He really did.
-= *End of Chapter 2* =-
It's a little too late for comfort, I'm sorry. I've doused myself way too far into Skyrim as it is, constantly restarting it because I think I messed up something too much in the main quest line and proceeded to restart over and over again as it is summer.
Any suggestions, critiques or praises? Because I don't like backtalk! However, if you want to point out a few references, that's fine. I'll just post your name in the beginning of the next chapter I write! Happy searching!
Pronunciations: Now, some people may not got some of the pronunciations wrong. This is to fix that.
Doragon: dohr-ah-gan
Klepto: klehp-toh
Kila: kee-lah
Nirvana: nurh-vah-nah
Point out any that I missed!
Now, for the love of God, let the next Fanfiction begin!