The Dragonborn's Blight Ch. 6

And the Scrolls Have Foretold

Stars, there was always something about stars that filled Stava with an easy going calm. To be bathed in their etheric light was one of the ways she could find herself, to bring her emotions together and be at peace while she sat in the taiko style the greybeards taught her. It was always at night that Stava would meditate on the words of power when she stayed with Paarthurnax and the old greybeards; the mountains cold adding to the clarity she needed so badly. With her eyes closed, she almost felt like she back at the old Dovah's peak; though instead of the whistling winds of the mountains, she was treated to the chirping and rustling of the forest around her. As melodic as it was, Stava yearned for the mountain wolfs midnight howl and the whispers of Skyrim's brittle wind. The Dragonborn's need for meditation was a growing one, for many months she found herself at the edge of her desires blade. Stava always tried to be more like Paarthurnax, to follow his Way of the Voice, to control her base emotions and, overall, act less like a Dragon. But, like many endeavors she took upon herself, she knew she failed in it. The "incident" at the inn being the most recent example and it remained deeply ingrained in her mind. A week and half later the mixed feelings of shame and hate accompanied the scene when replayed in her mind, which was constantly; her meditations being the best way of coping with them.

"Why must the people of this world be so fearful? What happened to make you ignorant of your heritage." Stava said to night around her.

In Tamriel all peoples across the world had magical potential, more so for some rather than others, but even the lowliest of peasants in her world had the ability of magic; if enough focus was brought to bear. The farmers at the inn reminded her of some of the more radical traditionalists in Skyrim, those who had forgotten their history and thought a Nord's only attributes should be might and martial skills. It reminded Stava of the many times she had been mocked and ridiculed growing up on the old streets of Falkreath the adults who were so judgmental of the little girl with magic, making sure their children weren't influenced by such a difference. It seemed, no matter where she went, even to entirely different existences, there were always haters, shunning those with gifts they were not blessed with. An owl began hooting and Stava opened her eyes, there hung the moon before its inky its inky backdrop and the thousands of stars and unknown constellations that Stava had never seen. But, if she squinted, she could almost make out what appeared to be the Serpent; its tricky nature hidden among the plethora of strangers in the night sky.

"The Serpent, even in other dimensions you still hunger after that which you cannot have. I wonder what other connections you have with my home, Thedas. Just how did you come to be? Who made you?" Her question went unanswered, as most of her questions about this land had been. A heavy sigh left her lips, not knowing the truth or full extent of something always bothered her. And the short time she had spent in this world had left her incredibly bothered, the answers she sought she knew she'd be unable to find with conventional knowledge while here; for the civilizations of Thedas were absolute in their unknowing of the planes beyond their own. And the God's that created them. The complete absence of which, had nagged at Stava in the back of her mind, constantly asking what had happened? Did Lorkhan trick others into creating this world before the creation of Nirn? Clearly the inventors didn't stay, as evidenced by the stars that rippled the black ocean above. Stava slouched and held her head in her hand, all the questions and no way of answering them, left her with a headache similar to the one she had experienced when she first met the insane Septimus in the ice fields of Winterhold. His inane ramblings were no more confusing than the situation she had found herself, and Stava who laid back and onto the leafy ground, wished for the simpler times of her life; chasing world ending dragons with a hunger for souls. Stava smiled at herself and chuckled.

"Oh Alduin, I never thought I'd say this, but I sorely miss you." She said, clutching at her sheathed sword which lay beside her. The truly funny thing was that the horrifying monster that had taken hundreds of lives and destroyed dozens of towns across Skyrim; was still with her, in a metaphorical sense. The images of him swallowing people whole and burning buildings to ash amidst ear piercing screams would never leave her memories and dreams. Her sword even, was a testimony of the firstborn's stubbornness to fade from her life, every time she looked at it she could see those crimson eyes; haunting her like tortured ghosts. The thought of her sword had her sitting up and setting it on her lap. Her hand lightly brushing over the ebony and dragon hide that housed the black blade. Stava half smiled at the memory of her and Eorlund slaving for days over the bone and skyforged ebony, the bone coming from Mirmulnir, the first of the Dov to call her Dragonborn. Crossing her legs now, and readjusting her old tunic, Stava pulled at the sword and released it from its prison. A light scraping sound as it is drawn can be heard while Stave held the sword in front of her, the tip pointed upwards. Stava had stared at the sword many times while in Thedas, and only when she was alone with nothing but her thoughts. Many a foe had been felled by the blade that seemed to drink the starlight that poured down onto it, and Stava could almost feel the weight of all those deaths while she held it. Enemies great and small had felt its sting, from common bandits to warlords to truly frightening nightmares like daedroth and dwarven abominations.

But the greatest of them all were the three most terrible dangers. Alduin, who had given the blade its new appearance and lived on symbolically in it. Harkon, who's blood first wetted the sword and, Stava suspected, gave it an almost hungry look about it. And Miraak. Miraak, the first Dragonborn, the only one she struggled to kill. Not because of strength or power, but because she felt a kinship to the man who sold himself to a Daedric Prince. Because of this, the two would not be so different if it weren't for the mans need to rule. Stava carefully ran her fingers down the edge, her sword, her weapon had felled the greatest of the great. Had defended her from death and delivered it back unto those who sought her harm. The item reminded her of something from a children's tale or an old history book, the great tool the hero used to defeat their foes. Thinking this spurred an idea in her.

"You know," She said to the sword with a smile. "A weapon so renown, so legendary, should have a name. Don't you think? What do you want your name to be?" She asked, knowing full well that an answer was unlikely from the inanimate object. Stava's eyes went up and down the blades length, attempting to discern its nature and what should name it. It was dragon in nature, like her, dominating and powerful. It was the catalyst to the deaths of malevolent godlike forces and deserved a name that bespoke its life's design, and was often times the only thing she ever needed. Standing up, Stava held the sword before her proudly, and the words born of her experiences with it flowed from her mind to her tongue.

"Kah. Ul. Vo." The words of power found themselves etched into the unbreaking bone. Her words literally hung in the air, silencing the sounds of nature around her, even the trees ceased their swaying at the sound of creation itself. Stava watched almost mystified seeing the words slowly scratch themselves onto the sword in the dragon language. The claw marks glowing with the power of the name she had given it. Stava knew that for forever and all of time the blade would be those words, and it would be hers. She also noticed the silence that had formed when her words were spoken, she realized that this was only time this land had heard the words of power, the words of the gods since its inception. Stava then thought back to the night she defended Highever, how the nature around the castle must of frozen in unknowing at the power of divinity. There were many things to bring to this land, and change would be one of them. With a glance to the sky and looking to the moon, who was in its waxing, she determined that it had to be several hours into the night; just past midnight if she judged its position correctly. Giving Kahulvo, one last long look, she sheathed the sword and made her way back to the nearby campsite of her and her companions.

"Pride, eternity, undo. That's a good, strong name, if I don't say so myself."

Slowly but surely, as she walked back to the camp, the night life of the forest started back up. The crickets played their songs, the leaves danced in the breeze of the wind, and movement of the tiny nighttime creatures could be heard whilst they foraged for their food. Before too long Stava could see the orange glow of a campfire and was soon met by the smell of burning pine and oak, nostalgic memories of travel accompanying it. Closing in on the site, she saw three small personal tents made of cloths and leathers, they're horses laying tethered to a near tree. And sitting by the fire was who she could already tell was Duncan. She groaned and rolled her eyes, he was likely to attempt speaking to her again about the incident. Ever since they had left that hole in the wall inn, Stava had avoided any form of communication about the raw subject with the old man, or Aeden for that matter. Going so far as to hardly even speak in the past several days. She knew she had made a mistake, why talk about when the problem has been acknowledged? People telling her what she did wrong when she already knew it, always caused a spike of irritation in her. It was one of the many reasons she was given the awful assignments when she first joined the Stormcloak forces.

"But, I suppose this will have to happen eventually. *sigh* This is going to be trying." Stava said, just about to enter the small camp, taking a moment to say quietly to herself, Drem, allowing a degree of calm to enter her.

Stepping into the light of the fire at the edge of the camp, Stava saw Duncan sitting on an old fallen log, his swords by his side and his eyes focused deeply on the flickering flames. The hound Rex could be seen laying in front of the sleeping Aeden's tent, the great dog sound asleep and lightly snoring. Stava looked at Duncan, she was too his side and could see on his face a look of melancholy. She saw his eyes glance over towards her without moving his head, they lingered for a moment before returning to the flame. While Stava wanted to simply go to her tent and prepare for sleep, she stepped around the fire sat herself on the ground, just off to the right of the Warden. She opted for crossing her legs and laying Kahulvo across her lap, she couldn't help but look at the warrior, observing him. The man was always wearing his armor, in her time with him Stava had seen him remove only once, and that was to bathe at a stream. She wondered at the kind of battles the man must have fought, the horrors that left that dead look in his eyes and that rigid posture that bespoke of one who was always ready to fight. The man, she could tell, had suffered tragedies in his life, more so than most she suspected. Stava empathized with him. The better part of her life was one big fight to stay alive and keep others alive, to adventure to places unseen for a millennia and battle creatures dark and mysterious.

"You were gone for several hours. Was your walk agreeable?" He asked just then, his eyes remaining glued to their position.

"I, yes. Twas quite agreeable." She said, feeling slightly awkward at being caught staring. Her eyes moved to fire like his, deciding not to continue staring. Silence crept between them, she was unsure of how to proceed, which was strange for her. Most of her conversations were short, sweet and straight to the point with no worry of stepping ones toes. But the current situation was different, she supposed. It was rare that she ever voluntarily wanted to somewhat apologize. Even though she wasn't in the wrong. She could feel her brow lower into a light frown. And her finger started tapping against her will. She hated moments like this.

"Stava," Duncan said just then. "Though I've only known you for a short time now, I've noticed that you are a very easily read person. You wear your heart on your sleeve, as it would be. If what troubles you is what happened last week, do not worry. It is not my mission to badger you with something I'm sure you've already dealt with." His voice like that of an understanding parent. Duncan's fingers were laced together and his chin rested upon them.

Stava, somewhat taken aback, searched for words to say. He'd taken the very words from her mouth like a Riften urchin steals from newcomers.

"I was going," She started, faltering uncharacteristically for a moment. "I was going to say sorry. It's not often I say it, but there it is. I should have adhered to your plan. But then I started drinking, and if you think that was a bad outcome, I should tell you about the time I met this man named Sam. Twas a night to remember I'll tell you what." A tiny chuckle leaving her lips.

"I'm sure it's a grand tale... I said I wouldn't badger you, but I feel should remind you. This isn't your home Stava, all of Thedas lives in fear of what you and so many others are. And with word of the Blight slowly reaching peoples ears, they will hae another thing to ramp up their anxieties. This is why I had asked you to be covert in your identity and activities. But I do understand how hard it can be sometimes to control ones self-whilst under the influence. I must ask you something." He said, turning to her and his grey eyes looking at her with some need for understanding. "Would you have killed those men if I had not intervened? If I had not distracted you from the bloodlust that took you over? For I saw in your eyes, for a fleeting moment, something, inhuman."

A deep breath. Her eyes wandered upwards and saw through a small hole in the forests trees, the stars of the nightly shroud. Her hands put behind her, propping her up whilst she leaned back to better observe.

"Do you know what the stars truly are?" She asked him, knowing he did not know. "They are holes in the fabric of our existence created by the children of Magnus, the architect of creation. They followed his path and left the mortal realm, leaving behind the holes that we call stars. Although, Magnus created the sun with his tear. And these, tears, these holes; they lead on into Aetherius, The Immortal Plane, where all magic and the Divines themselves reside." Stava looked back the fire, she felt a kinship with it, as though they had known each other all their lives.

"I think that's why I've always felt drawn to them. Not because of what they are, but because of where they go. I am Dovahkiin. A dragon in mortal form, the child of a god. The only thing that separates me from other dragons is the fact I've no wings or scales. And sometimes, a lot of times, my true nature takes over. I am, at my very core, a being who is meant to be dominant and all powerful. Showing force over those weaker than myself. And that Need, that Want, it reaches up from deep within you and it tears away the false skin that you wear, revealing itself as the truth. To answer your question, Duncan. Yes. Yes, I would have killed those men, and I would have killed any who attempted to avenge them, and any who would try to avenge those as well. It's just what I'm good at." Stava's voice fell low and quiet, dangerous thoughts pained themselves in her mind. Imagining herself breaking those men and showing them she was their better. Her hands, she noticed, had dug into the dirt where they supported her. Her arms were tense and she felt the scowl on her face. A part of her felt shame at saying so much to one who was practically a stranger, not even some of her closest companions heard the words she spoke to him.

Duncan was silent. His eyes returning to the fire, a long hard stare rebegan, and as Stava glanced over she saw a calculating look upon his visage. She sighed a deep breath, the journey would be an arduous one if her travelling companions were at odds with her. But tonight, she doubted, would the night for total reconciliation. Stava laid back, her head cushioned by a thick clump of grass, and gazed at the stars again. She was beginning to dislike this world, and she hoped that they would reach Ostagar soon. The need for battle was making her antsy and restless. Boredom was the easiest trap for her to fall into, and so she rolled over and crawled over to her tent. Reaching inside she grabbed her satchel, opening the seal, and started her search for a book. She was shoulder deep, not thinking of one specifically, hoping randomicity would provide for her. Eventually her hand grasped one by its spine and she rejoiced with a small grin. Pulling her arm from the satchel however, turned it into a frown.

"The Lusty Argonian Maid." Stava deadpanned. She'd forgotten the damn thing was in there. The lewd play annoyed her to death its incessant innuendos and word play. "Best to get rid of you then." She said to the book before standing up and chunking it into the dark forest. She decided to give up and just go to sleep, her shift for watch would be upon her before…

"Ouff."

Stava froze. She heard someone, her book must have hit them. Her eyes scanned the darkness, trying in vain to pierce the veil. Her eyes squinted and her ears focused on anything coming from the woods. But the sneaks must've froze just as she did, hoping not to give themselves away again. But Stava had different plans.

"Laas Yah Nir." She whispered, her vision blackening like a slow blink before brightening back. All around her the auras of the forests wilderness shown around her in dim blue lights. She focused her sight onto where she heard the sound and she saw nine red, human sized lights, glowing brightly in the darkness around them. A roar in her soul sounded throughout her. She Despised sneaks who used the cover of night for such unjustly things. Her jaw tightened in frustration, her fist clenched in anger; the would-be assassin's existence sent a hot stream of rage through Stava's blood. She saw them huddled together closely. 'Idiots.' She thought. Being bunched up like they were made them easy targets, and they happened upon her at the wrong time; for a need to kill was gnawing at her. Her need to Overpower. Stava felt the pull on her soul lessen by the second, she'd be able to shout again soon. It would be the easiest path to take in the situation. So, she stood there and waited for the moment she could unleash her might upon them. Standing there, the thought of alerting Duncan had crossed her mind; but only momentarily. "Why bother?" She mumbled under her breath. Stava titled her head from side to side, popping the bones and releasing some tension. She stepped away from in front of her tent and faced the clump of the spectral red forms. Stava thought of which shout to best use in the situation. She wanted at least one of them alive to question. Burning them alive would do no good. And the winter that would be issued from her lips would be too great for them to withstand. And then it hit her, something she hadn't used in a long time. Her mind went back to Duncan who, when she turned her head, was staring at her with most dubious of looks. His greyed hair shining in the firelight as he tried discerning her action of staring into the forest. She said nothing at first, bending down to pick up Kahulvo.

She smirked roguishly.

"I'd get behind something if I were you. Divines know what all is going to get tossed around." She said coyly. Her slender face turning back to her targets, whose auras were beginning to fade away. She took several deep, focused breaths. With sword in hand, she released the built-up storm.

"VEN, GAAR NOS!" and as if the flood gates of the sky suddenly tore open, a small but great twister was born from her lips and rushed forth. It tore smaller trees up from their roots, and threw many branches and logs here and there before reaching its intended destination. Just as their auras had begun to fade from her vision she saw them attempt to scatter before being lifted by the cyclone. In the darkness she could no longer see them, but their screams were just audible over the swirling screeches of the tornado. It soon after petered out, and all that could be heard was the creaking and snapping of leftover trees. Stava walked casually down the twister's path of chaos, following it to the edge of the campfires light before raising her hand and forging a magical candle light above her with a snap of her finger. She paid no mind to Aeden's panicked yelling from his tent, his oversized dog barking incessantly; or Duncan shouting after her about what she was doing. She just continued her stroll along the destruction, being careful not to step on any broken wood. It pleased her when she found the first mangled body. The man's arms were broken and contorted, and his neck clearly snapped. The rest of him being just as so. Stepping along she found several like the first, bloodied and bashed, with bone poking out through the skin. One of them had a tree branch impaled in his head from back to front, leaving a rather grizzly scene left on his head. Disappointment soon creeped on her when she hadn't found a survivor, she needed one for answers. But then, too her glee, she heard quiet moaning. It was pained and struggled. Following it, sending the magic candle higher into the air to broaden her range of sight, she quickly found a man covered in blood and splinters. Slumped against one of the felled trees.

"Well well well, I had hoped at least one of you would make it." Her voice cocky with a malicious undertone. The man had a rough look about him, one that existed prior to being whipped about by a twister. His hair a dirty blond and face patchy with a lame attempt at growing facial hair. He was outfitted in a light leathery armor, nothing more than pads and straps with the occasional piece of metal.

"Stava! What in the world are you doing?!" Duncan suddenly appeared behind her. His voice angry and confused. "Who are these men? How did you know they were here?" He asked some more.

Stava rolled her eyes, ignoring him, and grabbed the man by the collar. She made her way back to campsite, not struggling at all in dragging the grown unconscious man. He was likely out cold from a concussion and blood loss; she'd have to fix that if she wanted to talk to him any time soon. Stava snapped her finger and candle light was gone, no longer needed in the firelight. Rex was still continuously barking, Aeden kneeling beside him attempting to calm him; Stava barred her teeth and sent the dog a cold icy glare. The Mabari, startled by the sudden fierceness from Stava, stopped barking. Resigning to growls and low grumbles. She turned away before Aeden could give her his own glare; she let go of the wanna be killer close to the fire and made her way to her satchel which was left by her tent.

"Could you please explain what exactly you're on about?! I'm laying here, sleeping nicely, when all of a sudden, BAM! You do your little shouting thing and give me a heart attack!" Aeden's words were tired and shaky, the rude awakening taking its toll.

"Well, if you must know." She said, her arm rifling through her satchel once more. "I discovered those men a stone's throw away from our little camp, or in this case book. Huddled together like the little sneaks they are. So, before they had the chance to do anything, I took them out as easily as possible. You're welcome… Aha, here it is." She exclaimed, pulling from the magic bag a small red flask made of glass. She turned back to him, taking quick strides and crouching beside him. Stava grabbed his jaw and opened his mouth slightly. She pulled the cork, which sealed the flask, with her teeth; and proceeded to pour slowly down his throat. T'was but a minor healing potion, but it would deliver the desired effects. A few of the scratches on his face healed, and his eyes blinked and fluttered, trying to open into consciousness. Not satisfied with how long it was taking, she reared back and delivered a strong slap to his face.

"Oh, damnit. Ugh." The man moaned.

"Wakey wakey, you sneak." Stava said. A vicious tone in her voice.

"What, what happened? Wheres the, the rest? Wheres Rueben and my men?" He asked weakly as he tried to sit up. He was halted by Stava's foot kicking him in the chest, forcing him back down.

"They're dead. Just like you'll be in a moment if you don't tell me who you are and who sent you." Stava was now kneeling, her foot rested on his chest and her eyes staring directly into his. The man, scrunched his face angrily, knowing his men had been killed must have cut deeply. His lips pursed and he returned Stava's stare. Her face was blank when she reared back again and slapped him even harder than before. The clap of skin on skin echoed around them.

Out of the corner of her eye she watched Duncan step up beside her. His walk heavy and angry. She expected Aeden to follow suit, but it seemed he was occupied with calming the horses, which were still in a full-blown panic from her shout.

"Stava! An explanation please." He all but shouted in his gruff voice.

"Can you not see that I'm busy?" She asked him, turning away from her captive. His face bespoke of a deep irritation, and that he was as serious as possible. "Ugh, fine. I discovered this man and his merry band of assassin's hiding out in the forest, just close enough to sneak onto us. Waiting for the perfect moment to come and slice our throats, weren't you?" She said lastly to her prisoner, who was maintaining his silence.

Duncan growled. "And how do you know?"

"What do you mean?" She asked in return, looking back at him confused.

"I mean, how do you know they are assassin's? How do you know for certain that they were indeed meaning to cause us harm?" He asked her, quite pointedly.

Stava's eyes drifted off. She hadn't thought about that. "Alright. I may not know that for certain. But they're all dead now and this ones gonna tell me who they are. Besides Duncan, how many honest men who aren't looking for trouble that hide in shadows when they're spotted? Hmm?" Her sass very present. "Well?" She said now to the man she was kneeled on. "Will you talk of your own volition? Or must I make you?"

"I hope you burn." Was all the man said.

An inhuman smile crept across her lips. Stava's eyes darted to the fire, and without a second thought, reached into the center of the wood pile that burned white hot. Everyone gasped, including Aeden who had turned to see what was going on. The fire tickled her skin has she grabbed a fist sized lump of the burning coals. Being partly dragon had many perks.

"I don't burn so easily Joor. Zu'u los fron voth yol ko dii sos. I would really like to know the answers to my previously stated questions." Her voice now deep and threatening. The coal she held in hand was brought a hairs length away from his left eye. A panic quickly took him over and his breath hastened.

"Oh Maker, please please please calm down. I'll talk, I'll talk. It was Howe, he hired us to track you down. Two hundred gold for the warden and the noble, and a Thousand for you, he said you were one of them apostates an that you were a child killin monster. Please, I'll leave ya alone." He said fast, hoping to spare himself.

Stava kept her smile and looked at Duncan smugly. His arms were crossed and he was clearly not amused.

"A thousand gold!" Aeden half hollered from the horses, who just starting to calm down. "You really must have made an impression Stava. That's enough for any common man to live comfortably for a long time."

"Glad to see the weak acknowledge power. Well then, if that's good enough for everyone," She said standing up off the man. A deep sigh of relief coming from him. "I'll just go ahead and rid ourselves of this nuisance." Kahulvo was quickly unsheathed, and before the man could comprehend what was happening, the blade shoved into his chest, straight through his heart. His death was instant.

Stava gave the dead man a pat on the cheek and pulled her sword from the new corpse. She pulled a piece of cloth from the man's clothing and wiped his blood from his blade. An annoyed grumble from Duncan was heard as he turned away from her and walked over to his tent, entering it and closing the flaps. Aeden, who taken slightly aback from the sudden kill, looked between Duncan's tent and Stava before shrugging his shoulders and making his way back his own tent. Rex had abandoned his post outside the tent and had retreated inside.

"I guess I'll see you in another hour then for my turn at watch." He said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. It had just dawned on Stava that he was shirtless and wearing only pants. She took a moment to observe his cut features and toned body.

"Don't concern yourself with it." Stava said after some moments pause. "I'll take over for the rest of the night. I've some cleaning up to do." She said nodding her head towards the dead man.

"Umm, right." And with that he entered his tent with the mabari still inside.

Stava placed a hand on her hip and looked up to the sky. Shaking her head, she sighed.

"Another failed attempt at not acting like a Dovah. At this rate, I might as well go become a hermit on a nearby mountain." Stava, who continued to scold herself for further alienating her companions, even though she was right about the assassin's; busied herself for the night by gathering all the corpses into a pile, all their pockets emptied and whatever items of value they had she put into her satchel. She planned, when morning came, to set fire to the pile. Would-be killers though they were, she admitted that very few men could resist the allure of gold for another's life. Especially when painted in such a light as she was. Back at the campfire, she sat taiko style once more and spent the rest of the night meditating on the Words. 'Better'. She thought, 'To be doing this than experiencing another nightmare.'