First things first, welcome back to Call to Valor, and thank you for your audience. Ive been gone for a while, and all of my drafts have been deleted, so i felt the need to make a few things clear.
main characters name is Idrissa- i noticed i made a few errors here and there, mixing up the name Idrissa and Nora from my fallout project. My apologies- im working on both projects simultaneously and sometimes things get mixed up.
Also, ill be attempting to eventually re-write the main characters introduction scene. Instead of just deciding to leave Riften on a whim, she is attacked in the graveyard by Dark brotherhood assasins while picking Nightshade for Ingun Blackbriar at Eligrims Elixers. She manages to escape the pair, and flees Riften in the dead of night.
Idrissa's previous sword was a short sword she was supposed to have picked up in Helgen in favor of Gunjars axe- i must have left out the correction in earlier editing. No way Idrissa is tall enough or strong enough to heft a broadsword/great sword
her new weapon is a Bastard blade with a hand and a half hilt- short and light enough for someone of her stature to wield comfortably and convenient because of increased range allowed by the slightly longer hilt.
Thank you- sorry again for any confusion. Please enjoy the update!
. . .
. . .
"Who are they uncle Ralof? What are they doing here?" Idrissa heard the voice of Ralofs young nephew, Frodnar, asking as he stood beside his uncle at the crossroads of the sleeping giant Inn- Blinking, she realized suddenly that she was in Riverwood, standing at the center of the worn dirt road bisecting the two rows of wood built huts that made up the little village, watching as a group of legionnaires marched toward her down the street...
A dream?
"Go inside little cub..." Ralof told his nephew seriously, giving her a strange sense of de ja vu as she watched him reach for the handle of his one handed axe- She realized with a start then, that it was the same, simple, unadorned wood cutters axe he had been using when she had last seen him.
"Awe, but i wanna watch..." the child whined in weak protest- young, innocent eyes alight as he watched the red plumed warriors pass them by...
"Inside. Now." His uncle repeated, stern, eyes locking with Idrissa's from afar as the soldiers came to a stop in front of her- Just then, a loud, familiar rumble, like thunder on the wind, rolled through the foothills surrounding the valley village, causing all eyes to turn skyward.
An intense feeling of foreboding gripped her, and as Frodnar bounded away for the safety of his family hut, it seemed to tighten in her gut until she could hardly breath. The only noise she heard then was her own hard, hammering heartbeat as an immense, black shadow shrouded the entire village...
"Idrissa- where is the Dragon Stone!?" Ralof shouted to her as he began to fight his way through the throng of soldiers to get to her- and as soon as his axe met with the flesh of one man, embedding itself in muscle and sinew, the rest of the legionnaires turned on him, raising their weapons before engulfing him in a sea of gleaming silver and red plumes.
Panicked, Idrissa's gaze whipped frantically toward the ancient, bleak barrow that loomed over the village on the snow capped mountainside, remembering suddenly the words of Faringar Secret Fire...
The Dragon Stone- She needed to retrieve the Dragon Stone!
As the realization set in, the sound of wind beneath giant, leathery wings filled her senses- but it was too late. Just as she looked up, preparing to run, the great black dragon was already there, hovering in the air in the middle of the roadway, jaws open wide as its gullet filled with white hot hell fire...
Frozen in fear, she braced herself before the blazing inferno engulphed her, and as she screamed in defeat, the world slowly began to fade to black.
. . .
. . .
Unlike usual, Idrissa didn't wake up on her own that morning, having slept fitfully throughout the night. When she did finally wake, it was- unfortunately- passed breakfast time, and Farkas was standing over her with arms crossed and an unusually stern look upon his handsome, broad featured face.
"Time to train." He ordered gruffly in his rumbling bass. Groggily, she sat up in her bed, rubbing the sleep from her dry eyes before giving him a sour look.
"Enough with the training- i want to fight something." She declared boldly, made restless from the previous night's dreams- Taken by surprise, Farkas's brows rose fractionally in response to her tone- she wasn't usually so spirited in the morning...
"Relax, new blood..." He warned her prudently, despite understanding her feelings on the matter- he himself had been eager to fight during his apprenticeship.
Indignant, Idrissa made a sound of exasperation.
" I've been hunting on my own for years- i can handle myself" She insisted stubbornly, internally despairing at the idea of spending another morning drilling with Vilkas in the courtyard- despite her repeated attempts at besting him in their morning lessons, she had made little progress throughout the week, and he was proving increasingly difficult to deal with.
"No fighting- not just yet." Farkas re affirmed sympathetically. " Not until Vilkas says you're ready...For now, you train."
Pouting, Idrissa sighed heavily in defeat before pulling on her boots- She needn't bother with her armor for the day, since it would likely entail hours of whacking endlessly at the straw dummy, until Vilkas was at last satisfied at last with her form. The previous day, he hadn't even bothered sparring with her at all, instead opting to drill with Ria while she engaged the dummy alone until lunch.
"Easy for you to say, you get to fight..." She grumbled bitterly, making him smile.
"But before I fought, I had to train...Fighting people is different- Smarter." He told her, remembering what Kodlak had told him so many years ago.
Petulantly, Idrissa scoffed at his advice as she stood, resigned to her fate.
"Some of em, anyway..." She bit back sarcastically, displeased.
A little hurt by her uncharacteristic jab at his intelligence, Idrissa's new shield sibling searched her disappointed face questioningly, wondering what had brought about her unusually bitter attitude that morning- Instead of questioning her though, he stepped aside silently to allow her to pass, and lead the way up to the mead hall. After all, if she was anything like his brother, he suspected that prying would do no good.
. . .
. . .
Joining the rest of the guild in the courtyard, Farkas paused beside the shaded table where Kodlak sat, watching the apprentices train as he did every morning. Idrissa marched ahead of him without hesitation, sluggishly joining his twin at the end of the foray, where he stood with crossed arms and a disapproving expression before their worn out, battered practice dummy- immediately, Vilkas gestured toward his pupils unarmored form, and Farkas knew he was chastising her for not donning her leathers that morning... They argued for a few moments, before he gave Idrissa two hard whacks on the shoulder and hip with the flat side of his blade to drive his point home. Undignified by the unexpected assault, she rubbed her shoulder tenderly, shooting Vilkas a black look while he gestured toward the Mead Hall as he spoke to her in low, firm tones.
"How are the young ones coming along?" Kodlak addressed Farkas curiously, seeming to sense his troubled thoughts. turning to face his mentor, the younger man shook his head solemnly, unsure of himself.
"Some are too happy to fight- blood runs hot." He admitted honestly, feeling discouraged. Kodlak turned his wizened grey eyes toward the younger man, and Farkas was surprised to find that he seemed amused by his observation.
"I remember when you were that way." Kodlak reflected with a smile, eyes growing thoughtful as he recalled the not so distant past. "The more they train, the more they'll cool down- you'll see."
Farkas nodded, trusting his mentor's wisdom implicitly- though it didn't relieve the worry he felt in the moment.
"I hope so..."
"Just have them focus on remaining calm during battle." The old man continued to advise helpfully. " Control the rage, dont let it control you- ah, Idrissa!" he exclaimed pleasantly, greeting the silver haired beauty as she re approached the porch with an annoyed expression, interrupting their conversation. "Come closer, let me admire your new steel..."
Appreciating his interest- and the distraction from her mental woes- Idrissa obeyed, unsheathing her new bastard blade with its impressive hand and a half hilt and presenting it to him proudly, as it had been presented to her- Kodlak held the blade gingerly as he observed the quality of the craftsmanship, giving her a nod of approval before handing it back.
" I see Eorlunds managed to outdo himself again- The balance is excellent, and the weight is perfect for you." he stated, giving her his seal of approval. To Farkas's relief, she broke into a wide smile then, causing his stomach to flip curiously in response.
"What weapon do you like, harbinger?" He asked the old man curiously then, never having witnessed him in true battle- In the old mans study, he had multiple trophy cases, each holding a different type of weapon, every single one appearing unique and formidable in its own right. He had not, however, seen him use any of them...
"When i was younger, I favored huge swords- just like you." He revealed matter of factly, heaving a tired sigh as he recalled his far off youth. " Hard to lift these days im afraid, but i still enjoy the heft of a good hammer."
Farkas nodded approvingly, pleased by his mentors answer.
"big swords should always beat little swords." He declared, reminding Idrissa of the conversation she had overheard between him and Athis the previous week. Kodlak chuckled heartily in response, before retorting sagely.
"brave hearts beat lesser ones- that's the decider."
"Well," Idrissa sighed reluctantly, giving her betters a polite bow as the conversation reached a lull. " As much as i would love to remain, Vilkas has given me the high honor of of polishing his shield- and after dinner I am to oil his armor. He wants it finished by tomorrow morning..."
Kodlak gave her a curt nod, dismissing her to her duties, and Farkas looked across the training field to shoot his brother a dirty look- After the events at Dustmans Cairn, he would have preferred his twin to be strengthening Idrissa's sword arm, and perfecting her form, rather than taking on arduous chores- What was his brother thinking!?
As Vilkas strode across the worn grass to join them, he met Farkas's stare head on.
"Problem brother?" He challenged, reaching for his flagon of ale on the table the harbinger occupied, and taking long, exaggerated gulps as he drained it completely. Farkas' eyes narrowed into ice blue slits.
"Your making her oil your armor?" He asked incredulously, making his disapproval obvious.
"Aye- and polish my shield. We have a long ride ahead of us tomorrow." He reminded pointedly. Chagrinned, Farkas's lips pressed into a hard line- On the morrow, they had decided to depart for Windhelm, to declare oath's of felty to Ulfric Stormcloak. Of all the council members, Kodlak and Skjor were the only two who wouldn't be bending the knee- much to Kodlaks disappointment, though he would never voice it out loud...Aela would be departing to take her own vows after their return.
"Perhaps youll ask her to tend to your horse as well?" He bit back sarcastically, earning a surprised- and somewhat impressed- look from Vilkas as he reached for a loaf of Tilma's fresh baked bread.
"You know," He retorted, appearing thoughtful for a moment. "Thats a great idea- That should keep her busy for the remainder of the day. I'll be sure to let her know it was you who thought of it."
Brushing passed him to enter the meadhall, Vilkas chuckled to himself as his brothers face fell- he had seen the way he pandered after their new recruit, and whether it was out of jealousy or protectiveness for Farkas that prompted him to step between the two now, he didnt know. What he did know, was that his brother was far too narrow minded and impulsive to pursue such feelings, with all that was happening. He would doubtlessly get himself killed...
No- Vilkas would not allow that.
. . .
. . .
That afternoon found Idrissa down at the stables, brushing Vilkas's horse, WindStorm, and cleaning the muck out of her hooves before she would have to re-shod the giant beast. He had ordered her to take on the task after supper, when she presented his freshly oiled and polished steel wolf armor to him outside his chambers- And much to her dismay, he had answered the door shirtless, his doe skin breeches half untied, and all she had been able to do was balk at him as he happily dolled out her next set of chores, seemingly amused by her virginal response to his half naked form...
Absently, she grumbled a string of complaints and obscenities about her new mentor as she worked, failing to notice Farkas as he approached her in the stall.
"Hey." He greeted lamely, when she didn't acknowledge his presence- Startled, Idrissa straightened, and whirled around to face him, reaching for the dagger at her hip. "Woah- easy now...its just me."
Relief flooding her features, Idrissa blushed, making a sound of exasperation as she relaxed against the wooden wall.
"Lorkhan's breath Farkas- you almost gave me a heart attack!" She admonished, embarrassed at being caught off guard. Apologetic, Farkas gave her an amused smile.
"Sorry- I didnt mean to scare you..."
"No?" She asked sarcastically, cheeks still flushed bright pink as she regarded him indignantly. "Then pray tell, to what do i owe the pleasure of your company this fine, mud caked evening? Do you need me to take care of your horse too? Or Perhaps you need me to oil down your armor before bed?"
Feeling sheepish, Farkas eyed her dirty, disheveled appearance guiltily, noting the mud and dung that caked her once fine, black leather boots.
"No- nothing like that!" He promised quickly, silently cursing his brother for making her cross with him. "Its just...You know how you said this morning that you were ready for an assignment?"
Brows raising hopefully, all the ire melted from Idrissa's face as she nodded a quick affirmative.
"Well...I think your right- see, me and Vilkas have to leave tomorrow on a sensitive diplomatic mission, and since nobody but Skjor and Aela will be left here to teach you for a while, I thought maybe it would be best if you went on an assignment of your own- Skjor's lessons are a bit much for an apprentice anyway."
Feeling excitement bubble from the depths of her core, Idrissa smiled triumphantly, eager to be on her way- but why the sudden change of heart? It was only that morning that Farkas had forbid her from taking on missions until furthering her training...
"What will I be doing?" She asked then, feeling as if something was amiss- And as if to strengthen her sense of suspicion, Farkas shifted his weight uncomfortably in front of her, eyes sliding away to the left as he avoided her gaze.
"Well..." He hesitated, looking nervous. Idly, he reached up to scratch the back of his neck as he considered his excuses. " Its not much- just something the Jarl's court wizard petitioned the guild to look into since rumors of the Dragons return began...There's this rock that's supposed to be entombed in Bleak falls Barrow. He wanted us to retrieve it, but...Well. Alot of superstition surrounds the barrow, and with all that's been happening with the Silver Hand..."
Momentarily numbed the coincidental assignment, Idrissa balked, blinking up at him with a strange expression- He was talking about the Dragon Stone!
Worried that the task at hand maybe too much for their new recruit, Farkas internally despaired- After Skjor's reaction to her knowledge of their secret, he couldn't trust that she would be safe alone in Jorrvaskr, without either himself or Vilkas around to intervene should their senior take it upon himself to deal with the situation...
"But if its too much for you to handle, maybe I can find something else...?"
"No!" She protested quickly, eager for the opportunity to pursue the line of unfinished business. "It's not too much- A few spiders and some Draugr dont scare me!"
Recalling her performance at Dustmans Cairn, Farkas smiled warmly down at her in response to the declaration, not doubting her in the least- That was, in fact, why he had chosen that particular quest for her. Vilkas's contract books were filled with search and rescue missions, and bounties for wanted or escaped criminals- tasks she was not yet suited to take on...Finding a rock in a tomb seemed easy enough by comparison, after their mission to retrieve the fragment of Wuuthrad...
"Good- I hoped you would feel that way." He told her warmly. She smiled back at him briefly, before her expression faltered and her brows pulled together, the way they did when she was troubled.
"What about Vilkas?" She asked then, knowing there was no way he would have approved of her going on any mission at this point in her training- He had made his displeasure with her progress obvious since taking on her apprenticeship only a week prior. "Does he know about this?"
"You leave Vilkas to me- I expect you to be provisioned and ready to depart after breakfast." He ordered sternly, expression growing troubled at the mention of his twin...Again, Idrissa felt suspicion naw naggingly at the back of her mind, but she was so eager to depart, she decided not to make any further inquiries- Instead, she nodded her acquiescence, elated, and gave him a shallow curtsey as he dismissed himself from her presence to continue her work.
For the following hour, she cleaned, re shod, and fed WindStorm without protest, her earlier bitterness all but forgotten.
. . .
. . .
As nightfall approached, the young woman made her way back to Jorrvaskre, mud caked and tired from the long days work- and as she crested the stone steps to the Wind District, she was startled for the second time that day by an unexpected visitor as he raced up the steps, taking them two at a time in an effort to catch up to her.
Instantly on guard, Idrissa reached for her dagger as she turned to face the rapidly approaching man- an unfamiliar elf of minute stature, who was no taller than herself, clothed modestly in a green tunic and leather breeches, and armed only with a bulging satchel of rolled and folded parchments.
"Thats close enough!" She informed him defensively as they crested the top of the steps. "State your business."
The small Bosmer balked at her tone, coming to a swift stop beneath the branches of the dormant Gildergreen tree that dominated the second tier of Whiterun.
"Sorry- i didnt mean to startle you." He apologized quickly, eyeing the dagger at her hip with a cautious expression. "I have a letter for you- your hands only." He explained casually, reaching into his pack deliberately to retrieve a folded envelope. As he reached out to hand it to her, Idrissa's brows furrowed- who could be writing her? Nobody she knew even knew where she was...
Gingerly, she took the folded parchment from the man, eyeing the unbroken seal curiously, startled to see the familiar symbol stamped into the grey wax- it was a hand...A silver hand.
"Thank you." She told the man then, dismissing him to continue his route. He gave her a curt nod and continued past her at a brisk pace.
Before opening the letter, Idrissa took a deep breath, looking surreptitiously over her shoulder for any sign that someone may be following her- If the Silver Hand knew where, and who she was, it was likely she was being watched at that very moment...Once the seal was broken, she gingerly unfolded the parchment to read the message within.
"Dont trust them!
The companions are not what they seem, and their corruption cannot be ignored- They will have poured foul lies into your ears, but I urge you to escape, before your heart and your soul are tainted permanently by their filth!
- Krev of the Silver Hand."
Swallowing hard, Idrissa refolded the offensive piece of paper, and turned immediately to feed it to the flames of the lit street sconce nearest to her- if any of the companions found out she was being contacted by the Silver Hand, her allegiances would doubtlessly be called into question, and there was no telling how the group of secret werewolves would handle that threat...
Once the fire had consumed the dry material, she cast another disgruntled look around the little square, unable to shake her newfound sense of unease before forcing herself to continue up the limestone steps to the warmth of the Mead Hall.
Tomorrow she would be on her way, she told herself- and the danger would hopefully pass...