{ === + === }
Hello from Rorikstead!
We're just going to skip over all of the caravan thing, huh?
We marched and it rained a little, then it stopped raining, and then it was kinda cold and windy, and then we marched some more.
There you go.
The convoy itself had six wagons and about thirty guards in total, so I assume the roads aren't as safe as they were this time. Still, 400 gold is 400 gold (total).
I would not recommend doing it on a daily basis though. My feet still hurt.
Anyhoo…
Our second quest—Aria's second quest—is to find and maul a cave of bandits. We don't know where the bandits are, which is also why we're in Rorikstead.
The plan is as thus: Aria, Jake, and Mell will go searching. I'll do other shit.
Huh.
Aria does the bulk of the searching, as her tracking skills are easily second to none. Jake is tagging along to both learn those tracking skills and to act as support…since, while unlikely, Aria can get injured if she's overwhelmed. Mell's going so she can collect herbs.
Regardless of what I think of her skills, she is (supposedly) a trained apothecary, so…y'know, she's tagging along. Jake said he won't be looking after her since she's technically not a part of the group, but he's not that heartless so he'll totally have an eye on her.
And we are…
Staying in Rorikstead to make things. With a population of approximately 1000 (counting roofs), Rorikstead is far from the geographical footnote it is in-game. So I plan to do some sewing after buying some leathers. The cloth that I can get here are probably of a lesser quality than Whiterun, so…yeah. Leathers.
Hopefully I'll make some good armor pieces for the front line by the time we're done searching, because by Aria's own admission, "we might be here a while."
…
[Day One]
…
The leatherworkers here don't make a lot of high quality stuff (so says the traveling caravan guards) but at least it's cheap. I bought about 100 gold's worth of leathers, which is enough material to make a full set of leather armor…if I really, really stretched the definition of 'armor'.
We have a total of six 'pieces' of leather.
Since this is attempt number one I'm not that keen on making a full set of armor. I'll settle for just a chest piece or something.
So! First things first, let's make…oh…a uh…what's it called. Bracer! A bracer. Let's make a bracer while channeling the incredibly unfair skills of Reinforcement and Replacing.
We find a nice, bright spot to sit outside the inn we've rented extended rooms with.
Something about being outside while sewing puts me in a good mood, not gonna lie.
Anyhoo.
We spend the four hours until lunch trying to make a bracer. Our fixed attention on the task completely shuts out the few onlookers having a nice little laugh at our expense.
Finished! This took me longer than I thought. Like, way longer.
"That's a nice piece of work you got there."
Um…
We look up to see a friendly, if slightly overbearing nord woman in heavy armor. Tall, reasonably muscular, unkempt blonde.
I don't recognize her, but she doesn't sound like she's trying to pick a fight. "Took me a while, but I finished it. One bracer." I grin. "What do you think? You look like you know more about a fight than me."
"Aye." She laughs. "And I know the fruits of a fine fight when I see one." She takes a seat next to me. I should note that I've basically been sitting on the front porch of the inn this whole time and my ass is quite sore.
Also her armor is patchwork steel (basically in-game steel armor but with pieces torn off here and there). On further inspection it seems to be more 'patchwork leather with bits of steel thrown in'. It looks like it's barely serviceable…but then what do I know.
"Mind if I give this a spin?" She gives the bracer a waggle. "What's your price?"
Armor is a bit hard to come by without going to a major city. "Same as the cost for the leather. 100 gold."
She stops a little. "Really? Just charging for the material?"
I shrug. "I'm using it as practice, so I'm not too fussy on the details."
"100's a bit steep for a bracer, but alright." She tosses us a pouch of gold and waits for us to finish checking it for accuracy, which we do with reasonable speed because we're an aspiring businessman. "If you'll excuse me." She says and begins strapping it on.
The bracer is basically two pieces of hardened and reinforced leather attached on one end with an extremely sturdy set of…I'm not sure how to describe it, but the end result is that one side of the two pieces fit snugly into each other for additional protection for people with skinner arms (me). The other side is just normal leather straps. The two pieces of leather themselves are reinforced on the inside with weaves of the softest, fluffiest leather I could find.
Reason?
F = mv. The more I can harm the velocity of an incoming attack, the less it'll hurt. I want my (the wearer's) wrists to not hurt.
Anyhoo, she straps it on and gives her arm a few test…rotations? Like she's rotating her arm.
"Hm." She rubs the bracer with her other hand. "This is surprisingly warm."
Of course it is. It's reinforced and padded to hell and back…but saying that would get my ass kicked. "Good for Skyrim's weather, no?"
"Aye." She flexes her arm to test the strength of the straps. "Thanks for the armor." She says (a bit mechanically). "If it holds up to a hit or two, I'll let you know."
At the moment that's all I need. "That would be appreciated."
…
After lunch (the other guys are still out in the field) I buy another 100 gold of leather and get back to work. I got one more piece this time for repeat business.
Let's make some boots.
Out of seven pieces of leather?
Yeah, we'll just make the right side heavier since I'm right-footed.
Lessee.
…
We put five hours into the shoes after finding a better spot to sit.
My ass is still sore, but less so.
Anyhoo, it's done! A pair of nice leather boots. They go halfway up the shin and guards said shin. The shin guard parts are the most heavily reinforced and are built like the bracers, therefore they should handle a few hits just fine.
To test them, I wore them and had a small child kick me in the shinguard. It seemed to work well against a small child. He then kicked me in the shins and it stopped working so well. Still, a good learning experience.
Otherwise, it's pretty tough on the outside and the sole is sizable and is soft to pad footsteps. I've also applied a layer of wax, so it's theoretically water resistant. I have yet to find a puddle to jump into, so the jury's out on that modification.
I think I learned a lot about shoemaking, even if the shoe is, aesthetically, fucking ugly.
We gained a skill point.
It goes right into armormaking mastery, for general armor making mastery goodness.
…
[Day Two]
…
I think Mell's got a thing for Jake. She made puppy eyes at him when they left for the day. There's no injunction against sleeping with Mell beyond the fact that he's almost twice her age, so let's see how that goes. I dunno, maybe he'll wow her with his experience or something.
I sold my crafted pair of shoes for 120 gold.
Anyways.
I spent 200 gold on leather today and got an extra two pieces. So let's try to make something big today, like...actual chest armor.
I dislike how Skyrim combined upper body and lower body armor, but hey, it's their design choice. From a reality standpoint, the two pieces have to be made individually.
We're doing the upper body first.
…
We work through lunch. After around seven hours or so, we finish our work.
It's not done, but it's at a good place where I can reasonably stop.
I've made a cuirass. I wanted to make it with the same technique as I did the bracer, but the size difference meant that it was impossible to do it with the same level of consistency. Still, I managed to reinforce the areas covering the vitals (heart, lungs, tummy) and it seems to be able to take a few hits.
Hmm…well, we are here to learn.
Let's see here…ah ha!
We accost a passing worker.
He's armed with a lumbering axe. "Sir! Excuse me, sir!"
He stops. "Can I help you?" He asks us warily.
"I'd like to borrow your arms for a moment." I stand and show him the armor. "I'm going to set this on the ground and I want you to bury your axe into it as hard as you can."
"Uh…" He's understandably confused by the request. "Alright."
Neato!
We toss the cuirass onto the ground, where it rolls and lands unceremoniously in the grass.
I wanted to represent combat damage as much as I can…though I am glad it landed front side up. "Alright, give it a go."
The man (Imperial) looks around at the four or five onlookers, gives them a shrug of 'well, ok, let's see what happens' and gets into his wood-splitting stance. He raises his axe over his head, and brings it down as hard as he can.
The axe slams slightly left of the armor, onto the heavily reinforced section. There's a surprisingly loud 'pop' as the axe makes contact with the armor and it comes apart. Hm.
"Is this fine?" The man asks with a little bit of worry.
"Yeah, it's fine. Thanks for the help." I toss him a coin and collect the ex-Cuirass.
He takes the coin with confusion and heads into the inn.
Let's see…
Ok. It did pop at the sewing. So the cuirass is basically two large piece of leather that I've fixed together with leather straps. The reinforced armor held up just fine, though I don't know if it's because the armor was tough or if it's because the force of the blow got transferred to the straps.
…That said, if the force of the blow really transferred to the straps then this armor isn't bad. Or else it's really bad, because the armor is supposed to absorb the force by itself.
…Yeah, yeah, this is actually really bad. Because if the force goes through the armor and travels straight to the weakest point, then the person wearing said armor's going to have a bad time.
So…what should I do?
Well, F=mv. Again, I want to decrease the velocity of the strike to better soak the hit…and…um…
…back up a step. First off, we have three attack types we have to deal with: Pierce, Slash, and Bash. I don't think I'll be able to design an armor that can cover all three fields, but for now let's think about what my design philosophy will be if I'm to stop these types of attacks.
Uh…lessee. Pierce first. Piercing attacks are small points of contact with an immediate driving force behind it. The two common attacks come from arrows and spears, with arrows being the lighter attack in terms of timing. By which I mean if you negate the force behind the arrow it stops being an attack, while a dude with a spear will just drive the pointy end deeper.
Still, the armor needs to have sufficient give at the point of contact to absorb the strike and have the material left over to pad the pointy end. Hmm. Against a spear…well, hopefully the armor would hold long enough for the wearer to countermurder the attacker.
Anyhoo…slashing attacks. Like a piercing hit but two-dimensional, the energy is concentrated along the skinny edge of a sword, and given enough power it separates material and keeps going. In that sense, making sure that the armor has enough give to absorb the slash, but also supple enough to not split apart, would be the priority. Super hmm.
Last is bash…so this one should be pretty easy to handle. Force should be distributed through the armor as evenly as possible, so to avoid having the energy go through the armor to hurt the soft mushy human beneath.
And, of course, for all of these, apart from absorbing the hit, deflecting it is also a possibility, where the armor is sufficiently hard enough in terms of material or shape such that the energy behind the strike just doesn't hit home.
So do we have any idea how to do any of that?
None!
What about magic?
None!
Uh…
I'll figure it out as I go. For the time being just keeping in mind the design philosophy I need to adhere to is good enough.
…
We continue working until dinnertime.
Mm…better, I think. The cuirass's straps have been replaced. I'm not yet sure on how best to reinforce the connection point, so I think if it takes a hit as it is now the straps will pop open again. Still, I've added a soft layer of wild cotton (50 gold) onto the vital protection areas, so it'll maybe take a better hit.
To top things off I added a layer of thin, multi-layered weaves of leather straps. It's…odd, because the construct's a bit stronger than I think it should be? It's pretty neat otherwise. It feels tough enough to take a sudden arrow impact, but also has enough give to absorb a melee hit.
…That said, it took me two hours to make about ten square inches of this material, so…if I'm gonna make armor out of this, I should probably block off a lot of time to make it.
Hmm.
We got two skill points out of the armor.
I'll keep them for now, since it seems like Aria's getting close to her target.
Which reminds me.
We're currently at dinner with the other three.
"Aria's going alone tomorrow?"
They've been talking about it for some time, but I've been fondling my armor, so eh.
"I'm very close to finding their hideout." Aria nods. "So if either of them come with, there's a very high chance they'll be detected."
"Aka we're very bad at stealth." Jake says with a laugh. "Don't bite off more than you can chew, alright?" He adds.
"I'll be fine." Aria reassures him…also I'm pretty sure if push came to shove and he showed up to help it would be her bailing him out but whatevs
"Yeah, so we're staying behind for tomorrow." Jake says. "Wanna get together and do some writing?" He asks.
We're really overdue on our 'talk about the perks' meeting. "Sounds good."
"What about me?" Mell says/whines. "I don't wanna sit around and do nothing."
Mell?
Melo sounds weird, so we're going to call her Mell. We got permission, too.
"Rorikstead isn't exactly huge, but I'm sure there's a lot of stuff you can do around here." I say…perhaps a little more dismissively than I had intended. "You could always people-watch."
"I'm not gonna stare at people staring at me." She says defensively. "That's not fun."
"I can imagine that you get a lot of impolite stares." Jake says. "We're gonna be busy, but you can stick around if you want to."
"Great!" Mell beams.
"I hope you didn't mind that I, y'know, invited her." Jake says to me after dinner.
To be honest? "Yeah, I don't really mind. I am worried that she's going to clue in to something though."
"Yeah, but if she's gonna be sticking around us then she's going to pick up on us being weird anyway." Jake says. "So might as well get her acquainted early."
Ha. "So she's the cleric?"
"Aria's the tank, dps, cleric, and rogue." Jake laughs. "I don't think you appreciate how much of a Mary Sue she really is."
That's not a very nice thing to say. Hi, I'm a pot and I'm calling a kettle black.
"Ok, that's a bit mean of me." Jake backpedals a little. "She's a good person. She's just way too talented for her own good."
"Yeah. And Mell?" I grin. "She's got eyes on you, I think."
"I noticed." Jake smiles sheepishly. "It makes me uncomfortable."
"Yeah?"
"She reminds me of my ex's sister." Jake says…also, oh dear. "You've met my ex, right?"
I have. "She's a good person, with a smile way too rigid to be comfortable."
"Stepford smiler all the way through." Jake nods. "Her sister was pleasant, but…yeah." He shudders. I don't remember a lot about that breakup (they didn't exactly announce all the details) but I do remember that it was pretty nasty. That's neither here nor there though.
"Anyways, we'll worry about Mell later." I change the subject. "We need to focus on our current goal of breaking the game wide fucking open."
"For a given definition of a game, yeah." Jake smirks. "Let's do this shit."
And then we go to bed because it's like 11 pm.
…
[Next Day]
…
Huh.
Our breakfast table seems to have a new visitor.
"Mornin'." The mystery woman says cheerily.
Is this because I'm the last one to wake? Also, I think she's the one who bought the bracer from me two days ago.
And you know this because…
…because she's wearing it. I don't want to brag but my bracer is damn pretty compared to ye olde average piece of armor.
"The name's Frieda." The Armored Nord Lady introduces herself. "Say…is that yours?" She nods towards the Cuirass I'm hauling around like a sack of potatoes. An empty sack of potatoes…so just an empty sack, really. But it's an empty sack with form and I'm not sure why I'm so hung up on this
ANYWAY
"I'm still working on it." I admit. "It has some kinks that need to be worked out."
"Yeah?" Frieda strokes her chin.
"Is there a reason for your question?" Aria asks politely.
"Should be pretty obvious." Frieda says. "I'll buy that armor from ya. Name your price."
…huh. Well, let's play with the idea a little. The material cost came to 250 gold, so let's go high. "A thousand."
"Done."
Ye-wut?
Frieda's response was instant, immediate, and delivered without a shred of hesitation. It was so assured that we had a little trouble keeping up.
No kidding. "Excuse me?" I ask for confirmation.
"Done." She repeats…and shows me the bracer. There's a vicious-looking gash on the bracer, but it doesn't look like it's pierced the material. "Your bracer saved my ass, so I have faith in your armor." She says firmly. "I'll take it at any price."
It's worth noting that she's not exactly quiet.
Yeah. Aria and Mell are pretty girls, and I'm not exactly what you would call 'normal' when I sit in the open and sew all day. Our table attracts a lot of attention during meal times, and this time is no exception. Between the young men sneaking peeks at the girls, young women sneaking peeks at Jake, mercenaries looking to make a little extra gold as hired hands, and barmaids looking to make some more money…our table gets plenty of PR.
While I wasn't here at the time, I assume Freida's entrance and subsequent joining of our table attracted even more eyes, and the inn was (likely) notably more subdued when it became clear that she came to talk to me.
Point is, there is now a lot more interest than before in the cuirass I just made.
And to be honest, I'm not sure how to handle the attention. "Well…uh…I can put some finishing touches on it and have it ready by tonight, I guess." I scratch my head. "Seriously though, why?"
"Why?" Frieda grins and slams her mug of ale on the table—also, daydrinking? "So, I was out hunting these bandit folk with my team, right?"
Aria perks up at the mention of bandits.
"Asshole bunch, the lot of them." Frieda continues. "I think they were stealing local livestock." Aria deflates.
"Good riddance!" Some other patrons yell to general agreement.
"Damn straight!" Frieda yells back. "So we were out hunting these guys, and we find them at their camp, and then we kicked their asses."
I can see where this is going. "So what went wrong?"
Frieda's immediately sheepish. "Well…I may have gotten a little bit over my head." She rubs the bracer absentmindedly. "We get ambushed by their second team, I think, and one of them gets a real good swing on my face. I blocked like this—" She demonstrates blocking with her bracer-arm, "But I seriously thought I was a goner."
"That cut doesn't look too deep." Jake observes.
"That cut came from a great axe." Frieda says, her eyes a bit wider. "I thought I was going to lose my head." She adds after it becomes apparent that the majority of the listeners don't believe her.
…Ok, well, if it made her willing to pay a seriously marked up price for armor… "I…tentatively believe you." I say slowly.
"Thanks." Frieda says hesitantly. "I understand that it sounds outlandish, but I am beyond glad I bought this thing." She says…sincerely. I think she's sincere. "So I would like a proper set of armor just like it." She takes off the bracer.
…Again, if it makes her pay up. "Sure…though it might take me a while to finish it."
"How long will it take?" She asks seriously. "Just for that current piece; our group is leaving by tomorrow."
Erk. "Uh…I'll have it finished by today." It's not like me to make assertive statements, but it's also not like me to avoid finishing a paying job, either.
"I'll come by during the evening then." She says. "And I'd like it if you could repair this, too." She gestures to the bracer.
…Well. "Yeah, I'll do that. Until evening, then."
She finishes her ale, gives the others a polite nod of farewell, and makes her way out of the room.
And the whispering begins…mostly of how she may be drunk by noon.
"So…do you think she was being honest?" Jake asks us in a whisper. "Like, that thing legit protecting her from having her fuckin' head cut off?"
Mell scoffs.
I mean… "We can take her word for it? When was the last time you haggled in order to spend more money?"
The girls concede that I had a point. Jake just shrugs because that's a thing he's actually done before…albeit to a lemonade stand being run by an eight year old.
Anyways.
We pick up the bracer.
Let's see here…the gash pierced three of the four layers I had built. The only one left is the thin layer of cloth I had placed between the leather and the arm that would be wrapped by it… So… yeah, the hit that impacted the bracer was definitely strong, but since it's only three layers of leather—and not even particularly great leather at that—it's pretty hard to get an after-the-fact read on how much damage was mitigated.
…Still, this is gonna take a while. "We might have to postpone the writing thing." I say to Jake. "Can you and Mell run me some errands?"
"No prob." Jake says readily.
"I guess I can." Mell shrugs. "What are you looking for?"
…
We finish breakfast and Aria excuses herself to go and do her job.
I leave Rorikstead a little to find a nice patch of grass and a tree stump. I rope off the area and set what's left of my materials on the ground.
Ok. Planning time.
I'll probably have to do some post production support after finishing the armor so it'll fit better, which means I should not worry about that now. The lady gets into some scraps, and by her own words she's a close range fighter. The current Cuirass isn't bad, but I have no idea how well it will stand up to a solid hit. That lumber axe hit didn't count because the armor didn't stand up to the hit.
…Or maybe it did and I'm just not properly appreciating the knowledge. Either way.
Bracer first, armor second.
Let's get to it.
…
…
We get to work and only stop when it's late afternoon.
…
…
Whew.
"Damn." Jake whistles.
He and Mell have been visiting the worksite on and off. For the majority of the day they're sitting and chatting elsewhere or practicing with their combat skills. In other times we use them to buy stuff for us.
Yeah…either way, it's finished!
The Cuirass is two large pieces joined by leather straps. The straps themselves are covered by a layer of reinforced leather. The larger pieces—arguably the bulk of the armor—are comprised of three layers. There's an inner, soft-cloth layer for comfort, the outer layer that was the pre-existing Cuirass (complete with the small but tough section of weave I added). The middle layer is new, and took me the most time to complete.
So I'm a bit tired.
Anyway.
It's a woven mesh, much like the weave on the outer layer. It's not as meticulously made since I'm strapped for time, but it covers the entire body. I did pay extra attention to the vital areas so it's tougher there. The mesh is made of yarn, but with some strands of the yarn Replaced with steel, making it a very granular version of chainail. Chainmail.
I made a test version of this mesh and strapped it onto a melon for testing, and then I had Jake punt the melon into a wall. The melon exploded, so I don't know what that means. I then had him take a knife to a second melon and see what happens. The mesh works pretty well in that instance, since Jake had serious issues making cuts onto it.
Layered on the very top is an optional layer of fur, which helps break up the silhouette and grants some additional protection to the arms, which my armor leaves bare.
Still, I have confidence that the armor will be hella tough, despite being not metal.
Really tired now.
Sleeping.
…
[3rd Person Camera]
…
Ash falls asleep shortly after making his armor, and is still out cold by the time Frieda shows up to pick up her gear.
"'sup." Jake greets her. "He's tired, let him sleep." He adds as Frieda seemed like she wanted to talk to him. She seemed a little under-excited, compared to her display earlier in the inn. "Something wrong?"
"I seem to have been a bit overeager with my request." Frieda says slightly apologetically–her party leader had browbeat her for being too excited with splurging her hard-earned money. "So, is this it?" She asks, her glittering eyes fixed on the suit of armor sitting on the stump that used to be Ash's chair. She completely ignored its sleeping crafter not two feet from the armor.
"You got it." Jake takes the armor and stands, properly offering it to Frieda. "I'll wake him up to do the finishing touches, but first we need to get your measurements."
Frieda agrees readily. "Aye." She had shown up without armor in her haste (and after the last fight, it was too damaged to be salvageable anyway). She dons the heavier-than-expected Leather Cuirass, and notes to Jake the many areas that would need to be tweaked so as to fit her better.
"But still, what an incredible piece of work." Frieda breathes. The best armor she's had up until now was a set of old and battered Imperial Studded Armor. It was on the floor of her inn. "Just incredible."
"Fitting aside, I'm glad you like it." Jake grins. "Him too, I'm sure."
"It's strangely warm, too." Frieda marvels. "Despite not having any sleeves." She'll have to pick up her own arm guards for that. She does retrieve the bracer, and note that it hadn't lost its strange warmth, despite it looking a little different. Ash had taken some liberties with its repair in order to save time.
"Yeah, he got too wrapped up in making the main chest armor to do anything else." Jake laughs. "Do you want him to make the fitting change now, or…?"
Frieda's smile fades some. "Um…about that. I may have acted too rashly when I accepted the offer of a thousand septims for the armor."
Jake understands. "A bit steep, yeah?"
Freida's response is a nervous laugh. 1000 gold is not unusual for armor…if you were purchasing a full set of steel. That said, 1000 gold would not purchase a set of armor that was custom-made, since the costs of full fitting and artisan customization would be factored in as well.
A set of full leather, not just a mere body piece, would run at 250 gold at most. The skills of an amateur did not cost a full thousand.
…That said.
"What a dilemma." Frieda mutters to herself. "I made that big show in front of everyone…"
Jake had a more pressing question. "So just to be sure, you can pay for it if you wanted to."
"Yes." Frieda says in confusion. "Though a thousand septims is still steep."
Jake nods agreement. "Ok then. I have a plan."
…
[1st Person Camera, Next Day, 1st Person Camera]
…
Ok, so I think I fell asleep right after I finished making the armor, because my face hurts.
Also, Aria has pinned down the bandit's lair, and we're gonna go clear that out after lunch, because we're going to spend the morning to prepare. To wit, I'll be giving all our gear a once-over, Mell will be stocking potions and bandages, and Aria will be prepping strategy with Jake and Frieda.
Um?
Frieda had a slight change of heart. Jake talked her into joining the bandit clearing mission (thus getting a cut of the final profit) in exchange for paying the full price of the armor plus an additional 100 gold for the fitting.
I would have been ok with letting her pay something more reasonable, to be honest.
"I know." Jake had said when I pointed this out. "Which is why this is a deal, rather than you sticking to your guns."
Also I had entirely forgotten that gold is technically called 'septims' in Skyrim. I will likely never remember to call it that.
Anyhoo…the fitting process went just fine. The cuirass fits a lot better after an hour of tweaking thanks to the input of a local armorsmith. It's simple in hindsight, but a better fitting armor moves around less, which means the person swinging their weapon would lose less energy to their armor…and it would mean that the armor protected the part of the body it was meant to protect. I had originally intended to keep the armor a bit loose for the additional 'give' against incoming strikes, but obviously I was a bit naïve.
Either way, Frieda's armor now fits better. As for everyone else…Mell's armor is impeccable, which…is interesting, I guess? Aria's is fine since she does her own adjustments. Jake's is pretty stock and so a better fit would be nice, but I didn't have the experience to do that and have time left over for weapon adjustments.
Most of the weapon adjustments were done on Frieda's great axe. I gave it a better edge and replaced the handle (and then Replaced the inside of the handle near the head with an iron core). It's a little heavier, but the weight profile is still the same, so she got used to it without problems.
We gave half of the fitting cost (50 gold) to the guy that gave us tips.
With that, we're off!
…
[3rd Person Camera, Whiterun]
…
Lars Battle-Born was running. Well, he was jogging, but he fancied himself running.
With the Gleaming Sword (as he called it) on his back, he felt quite heroic, and took it upon himself to exercise one of his many fancies. He also wanted a little hat (maybe green?) but Idolaf wouldn't let him. It still felt good to run with the sword on his back, though.
"Out on patrol today, eh Lars?" A guard says good naturedly as Lars approaches him. "Give the bad guys a good licking, you hear?"
"Yeah!" Lars replies with a raised arm as he passes by (and trips slightly).
"That boy's got heart." The Guard's buddy (Guard B) laughs. "Pity he's a Battle-Born."
"You got that right." Guard A replies with a bit of a sigh. The two of them were in the Grey-Mane camp, but were the kind that would rather see reconciliation over the two sides killing each other. "He's going to grow up to be a big part of Whiterun."
"If only Braith would leave him alone." Guard B laughs as he watches the girl in question interrupt Lar's running path. "Think they'll get married in the future?"
"The son of the Battle-Borns and the mongrel of a Redguard?" Guard A sniffs. "I can see better matches."
Guard B chuckles. "Didn't that Redguard kick your ass yesterday?"
"Yes, and I'm still bitter." Guard A says. "Fuck off."
Guard B good-naturedly claps his friend in the back. He stretches, craning his neck upwards, and sees some weirdly-shaped bird outlined by the bright noon sun.
"We got some weird looking birds today." He says conversationally.
Guard A looks up out of habit. He squints against the sun to see the weird bird.
"It seems a bit bony to be a bird." Guard A says slowly after it grew a bit.
"Yeah?" Guard B has already looked elsewhere.
"Yeah…" Guard A feels something at the bottom of his stomach. Fear? No, that wasn't quite it…it was closer to expectation. But what was he expecting? "…Something's coming."
"Is it your wife?" Guard B says with a lazy yawn.
"We should warn the lookouts."
Guard B was now instantly on attention. If his friend ignored a barb (and a very stupid one at that) then the situation was likely going to be extremely serious. "Right."
They didn't need to have bothered. The baritone call of a horn reverberates through the streets of Whiterun.
The two guards' feel their blood freeze. The horn was a brand new addition to the lookout towers' arsenal, and was meant to be used for precisely one reason and one reason only. The Steward of the city even took pains to alert the entire city as to what the horn meant, and had everyone draw plans that "maybe, possibly" could be used for such an event.
"Oh, fuck me." Guard A growls and unhooks his bow. "Everyone! Indoors! NOW!"
A Dragon has come to visit Whiterun.
…
That would be a totally great place to stop but we're gonna keep going
…
The Dragon Mirmulnir swoops upon Whiterun from a near-vertical dive and dive-bomb the square at the center of the city, landing on top of the temple to Kynerath and collapsing its ceiling.
"{I come, humans.}" It growls in its draconic language. "{I hunger for your warriors.}"
"FUCKING KILL IT!" Some guards yell in response. The guards and hunters on scene—totaling roughly 30 units—all draw their bow and loose arrows.
"{Good!}" Mirmulnir raises, then slams his wings into the ground, creating a massive gust of wind that blows the arrows off course. It also blows the archers off their feet, as they were not expecting the sudden counter. He then rears his head back. "Yol, Toor, Shul!"
The grounded archers had no chance to scramble away from the sudden blast of fire that enveloped them. Mirmulnir cooks his enemies to a crisp, and then, with a powerful kick of his legs, is once again airborne.
And then a rock flew at its face.
Given the dragon's rather agile neck the boulder sails through without making contact, achieving only the task of making Mirmulnir curious against the new threat. The culprit—a catapult mounted on the walls of the city—found itself underneath the shadow of the dragon soon enough.
"Reload, reload!" The sergeant commanding the catapult yells. "He's coming here!"
Mirmulnir simply drops onto the catapult with his weight and crushes it under his feet. With another fire breath, he chars its crew to ashes. "{A fine sport.}" He growls, and takes flight again. "{But unworthy.}"
By now, the entire city has come alive, and guards in all sections of the city ready their bows to intercept this flying monstrosity. Each section of the city had multiple watch towers. While the towers are not high, they were made of stone and thus were quite durable.
"He's coming!" The temple section tower's watchman yells. "Fire!"
Mirmulnir banks to avoid the flurry of arrows being sent his way by over a hundred archers on the ground. "{Good.}" He growls, baring his teeth in a draconic smile. "{Worthy of attention.}" He gets a little extra altitude and then beats his wings once.
The archers on the ground saw the action and braced for some incoming attack. While some of the archers were unbalanced by the wind, most stayed on their feet and readied for a second strike.
Mirmulnir was a bit faster. With the time he gained from his act, he homes in on the watchtower and flies right above the stone structure. While the majority of the structure was stone, the roof was mere wood. Mirmulnir tears through the wood with his talons, grabs a clawful of the watchmen on duty, and tosses them into the air. He then takes off into the sky again, evading another flurry of arrows sent his way.
This time a few of the arrows struck home. Mirmulnir felt some pricks in his body but summarily ignored them. He, with his age and experience, would only fall to a specially crafted weapon or a superbly skilled warrior. Guards and hunters with no experience against one such as himself would find themselves woefully outclassed. Still, they had honored him by wounding him, even if it was a little.
Mirmulnir smiles again. "{Good. Worthy.}" He flies up high, at an angle to Whiterun, and then tucks in his wings.
"The fuck is he doing?" A guard gripes at the dragon flying far too high for his bow to reach.
Mirmulnir begins his descent towards Whiterun and then opens his jaws again.
"Wuld Nah Kest!"
The dragon that seemed so far away suddenly approached at a speed that was utterly impossible to believe. Although the guards expected the dragon to plow into the city (and maybe break its neck on the way down) Mirmulnir did no such thing. Instead, he zoomed low and level across the city's rooftops, bringing with him an incomparably powerful blast of wind.
Roofs tore from the houses, badly erected walls collapsed, lit braziers topped over, and people were blown off their feet and slammed onto the ground. With that one blow, a quarter of Whiterun was in pandemonium. As Mirmulnir pulled up and away from the walls of Whiterun, parts of the city began to smoke.
And he wasn't done.
"Sul Grah Dun!"
Nothing happened on the ground. And besides, the people of Whiterun were a little busy being dazed by that almost supersonic charge.
"Krii Lun Aus!"
Some of the more veteran warriors and guards felt something pass over them, and a sense of dread began to build. The people pouring out onto the street for fear that their houses would collapse felt no such change, though some indistinguishable element made them even more nervous, resulting in even more panic.
"BACK INTO YOUR HOUSES!" Some of the veteran warriors roared in an effort to clear the streets.
"Yol Toor Shul!"
The blast of fire that descended upon Whiterun could be classed as a calamity. Mirmulnir allowed his fire breath to be guided by his flight path, and he cut a wide swath into the heart of the city.
From a bird's eye view, the damage was honestly not that severe. Mirmulnir was roughly the size of a large house (like the Battle-Born manse), and of those Whiterun had several. Though his presence was sending the city into an utter panic, the actual damage he was doing was rather localized. For the people in the localized area, that information would not have helped them in the slightest.
Mirmulnir's attack raked over a series of houses and set them ablaze. The fire caught the civilians on the road, turning them into torches that fed into the confusion and terror. If nothing else, their screaming told the rest of the civilians to stay the hell away from the battlefield, and soon, as the screaming died out, so did the resistance.
"{Good!}" Mirmulnir laughs, the sound coming out as a rumble that reverberated through the street. "{Roasts are good.}" He lands in the middle of the carnage he created, shocking the remaining people untouched by his flames.
One guard fell to his feet. "M…monster…" He says while scrambling back on his rear. "It's a monster…Run! RUN!"
Mirmulnir leaps forward and snaps the guard into his jaws. He then swallows said guard in the next instant, before the other guards in attendance could act. The other guards wouldn't have acted anyway; the shock and awe of the attack had worked too well.
Still, they were not broken.
"I-it's just one of them!" A guard sergeant tries to rally his men. "And it's on the ground! A-Attack!" He draws his sword and takes a few shaky steps forward.
A glare from Mirmulnir then roots the Sergeant to the spot.
"Faas Ru Maar!"
The twenty other guards in attendance, previously tottering between attacking or retreating, all simultaneously and overwhelmingly chose to retreat. They, as one, toss their weapons and escape, an unseen terror snapping at their minds.
The Sergeant was an exception, as his fear rooted him to the spot.
Mirmulnir ate him too.
…
"Lars!? Lars?!"
Elsewhere in the city, Jon and Idolaf Battle-Born were running through the street. The Dragon attack had caught them all unawares, and the two of them had made a simultaneous decision to try and find the youngest member of their household. The two of them had seen the dragon descend upon the city and had immediately beelined towards the area.
After a short while—a far too short while—the sounds of battle ceased, replaced by mere screaming and burning. It was…not exactly comforting, since neither of them saw the dragon take off and leave, which meant it was still loitering in the city somewhere. Each time they rounded a corner they expected to see the dragon's face staring at them.
Lars, as it turns out, was uncomfortably close to the dragon, separated by a single house. He was hiding behind some crates and was (understandably) terrified, as a. the dragon was fucking scary, and b. he saw the sergeant get eaten, blood trails and all.
Still, his hiding spot was being progressively more compromised by encroaching flames. As much as he would simply like to just curl up until the danger escaped, he knew that he was running out of time.
In the eerie calm that now surrounds him, Lars heard two things that made him perk up. One of the new sounds was someone shouting his name. It was faint, barely audible over the ever-louder crackling of fire. The ambient noise caused him to both discard the sound as a hallucination and fight the urge to reply.
The other sound was faint—but very real—crying.
Lars tried to pinpoint the source of the crying, but considering the circumstances…he was quite unsuccessful. After some seconds of trying, he shifted his focus to the dragon in order to find a way to escape.
Mirmulnir also heard the crying. His ability to pinpoint it was much higher than Lars's, and more importantly the crying was distracting him from his task of savaging the charred corpses on the ground (he liked their crunchiness). Thus, he looked around for the source of the sound.
Seeing the dragon's neck turn and flex, Lars decided to take a chance. He leaves his hiding spot while crouching low, just like Jon had shown him, and quickly scurries away. With his footsteps obscured by the sound of everything around him burning to the ground, he makes his escape without issue.
Or at least, he would have, if his curiosity didn't get the better of him. Now that he was out of immediate danger, Lars spared a glance to his right a second before he turned left. He saw the source of the crying as a blur before he turned away.
Mirmulnir saw it too. Or, rather, the source of the crying had walked into his line of sight and, upon seeing the visage of the big hungry dragon, froze to the spot. It was the remnants of a family escaping from a burning home—three sisters. The oldest sister was badly burned and looked as though she had sheltered her two much younger siblings against the worst of the fire. The youngest sister had a vicious-looking wound on her leg, caused by a piece of falling, scorching debris. She had held together well for the past five minutes, but the six year old had a breaking point, and she had long surpassed it despite the middle sister's best efforts to cover her mouth.
"{Prey.}" Mirmulnir growls with a note of pity. "{Worthless.}" His growl seemed to rouse the middle sister, who moved herself in front of her wounded siblings. "{But worthy of respect.}" Mirmulnir revises his thoughts, and approaches them imperiously.
Lars, after seeing the girls, had continued to run, but very quickly stopped. On one hand, he wanted to get away. It was too scary, too strange. On the other…
He, without really thinking about it, put his hand on his Gleaming Sword, and drew it. He again felt the familiar, reassuring warmth of the sword, and stared into the ruby embedded in the hilt.
Lars has read his share of stories, and has certainly read his share of heroic tales. When danger comes, there is always a hero that appears to save the day. The stories of Emperor Martin Septim and his Champion were Lar's favorites, and he considered that Champion—fictional he may be—to be worth aspiring to. Though the current situation blew the minute details of those stories clean from his head, the fact that the Champion appeared at the city of Kvatch at its darkest hour and bravely fought to save it was still clear in his mind.
Nevermind that Kvatch took a good thirty years to be rebuilt after the Oblivion Crisis.
Now, in his own hometown, there was a crisis right behind him. Could he, a Battle-Born, abandon the people in need?
A voice in his head told him that: yes, he could. He was still a child with none of the experience and equipment required to stand near a dragon, much less fight it. Nobody would fault him for escaping, and everyone would be happy that he survived. Nobody would know he was here, and nobody would blame him for an additional three deaths in a tragedy of hundreds.
Lars ran his hand over the ruby and whispered softly, "I would."
"{Oh?}" Mirmulnir says appraisingly. The small boy that had hid from him one street over had run back with a sword in his hand. "{Brave. Very brave, for prey.}" He grins. "{Will you charge at me?}"
It was taking all of Lar's effort to just stand in front of the massive dragon before him, and the fact that it seemed to be chuckling was doing him and his shaking legs no favors. "Get up!" He says, his already high pitched voice cracking. "Get out of here!" He keeps his eyes fixed on the dragon, ignoring every warning sign in his body. He raises the Gleaming Sword at the dragon, forcing himself to ignore the now very evident size difference between his little poking stick and the monster before him.
"{Very brave indeed.}" Mirmulnir stops his advance, well out of Lar's reach, as a sign of respect. The girls don't move, because the sight of the dragon has drained all of their morale, and the wounds weren't exactly making things easy. At least the six year old stopped crying.
Mirmulnir openly laughed now, the guttural roar deeply terrorizing the young man. "{You have heart, young human.}" He says. "{I shall honor your sacrifice, and grant you your gift. Take it with my respect, your title of a human hero}" His neck rears back, his intent of unleashing fire as clear as day.
This is it! Lars realizes through clenched teeth. It's time to act! He readies his sword in a lunging position, like Jon always does, and with the mightiest yell his little body can create, Lars Battle-Born charges toward the dragon.
Jon and Idolaf heard Lar's shout and sprinted full speed. The youngest of their family was about to do something stupid and they were not in the mood to have that happen. The two of them rounded the corner as they saw the dragon's head rear back and knew, despite their efforts to sprint into the fray, that they were too late.
"Yol…Tool…Shul!"
Mirmulnir dragged his syllables for a blast of fire that was more concentrated, but had a smaller blast radius. The old warrior part of him felt like the small boy deserved the warrior's death that he apparently wanted so much. That there will not be enough of him left to memorialize is…sad, but convenient.
Lars, upon the brief moment of seeing the incoming fire, had only one thought, and it was of the three girls behind him.
I must protect them.
As the thought rang through his head, the ruby embedded in his sword glistened, then glowed a bright, fiery red.
Jon and Idolaf watch the breath strike home and engulf the four children.
"No…" Idolaf comes to a stop and sinks to his knees.
"No…" Jon comes to a stop as well, but he watches the breath with a furious scowl. He palms his axe, readying himself for a charge on the dragon.
Both of them then notice something odd. The stream of fire looked like it was coming up against some barrier. Like a rushing stream of water flowing against a rock, the fire, at a very specific point, grew wider.
Mirmulnir himself was surprised as well, and cut his fire breath early.
"What in the eight is that?" Jon breathes.
Before them, Lars still stood. The boy was wreathed in a cloak of sky blue…something, some kind of energy. It seemed to emit from the sword, as the sword itself formed both a shield of that power in front of Lars and a blade of that power extending from itself.
Mirmulnir had never seen a response like this before. It was not a physical act, and it certainly did not feel like a magical skill. He wasn't about to take any chances, and beat his wings on the ground once.
The blast of wind strikes Jon and Idolaf in the face. They didn't care. Instead, they were focused on the blue energy, and how it shimmered, but held in the face of the dragon's wind.
Lars did not flinch.
Mirmulnir knew an abnormality when he saw one, and wasn't about to overstay his welcome.
"Wuld Nah Kest!"
Mirmulnir bullets from the ground into the sky, wheels away, and flies off into the distance.
Lars continued to maintain his striking posture even as Lars and Idolaf scrambled over to him.
"Lars!" Idolaf pants, disregards whatever the energy is supposed to be, and pulls the boy into a close hug. "My gods, Lars! You fool! Are you unhurt?!" Upon Idolaf's action, the blue energy dissipates like mist.
Jon, seeing that Idolaf has this thing handled (more or less), goes for the girls instead.
Lars dropped the Gleaming Sword. "Grandfather…" He says confusedly, then seems to remember where he was and quickly turns to the girls. "Are they alright?" He asks Jon.
"I'm not good at this kind of stuff." Jon says while performing some Lay on Hands on the girls. "But this should patch up some of the small injuries; can you walk?" He asks the eldest, who nods, and stands with some difficulty.
Lars hurriedly runs over to help the middle sister, who seems to be too shocked to stand.
Jon carries the youngest.
"Let's get them back to the Battle-Born house." Idolaf says after a calming breath. "We have a lot to talk about."
"Right." Jon nods and leads the way with a reassuring "Come on, easy does it."
As Jon ushers away the kids, Idolaf picks up the Gleaming Sword, as Lars called it, and examines the worksmanship again. As he saw from before, there was nothing unusual about the sword. He knew Lars had a penchant—some may even say talent—for the magical arts, but the kid had no training, and even less experience. To create a ward at all would have been an impossible feat.
…And yet, he did. Idolaf frowns slightly. So what do I make of that? He glanced at the sword again, and was surprised to find it covered with an ever-growing spider web of cracks. In front of his eyes, the ruby encrusted in the sword crack, shatter, and vaporize into a fine mist. The entirety of the blade soon followed, leaving him with a wreck of a hilt.
"Ain't that a surprise." Idolaf murmurs. "So the sword is to blame in the end?" He strokes his chin. The sword came from an inexperienced smith who worked at Warmaiden's, if he remembered correctly. He was out of town at the moment, but he could put a word with the guard to tell him if the greenhorn artisan ever came back.
Idolaf did not, in good faith, believe that the sword could project a ward, much less one that could stop dragonfire. That said, Lars had wielded the sword and survived…
…so having another sword wouldn't exactly be a bad thing, would it?
…
[Dragonsreach]
…
Jarl Balgruuf received the news with nothing short of fury on his face. The dragon attack had lasted at most fifteen minutes, and there were at least two hundred casualties, not counting those lost to the fires the dragon had caused. Fires that are, at the moment, still raging.
"The bulk of the guard is busy fighting the fires." His Steward reports. "I don't have to tell you that their morale has completely crumbled."
The guards were understandably frustrated that a dragon came, raised hell, and then left long before they could muster anything remotely close to a coordinated response. Losing nearly fifty of their numbers in that short span of time was highly unpleasant icing on an already bitter cake.
"I can imagine." Balgruuf snarls. "Why did the dragon leave?"
"We don't know." His Housecarl, Irileth, says. "But the towers say that there was some flash of blue light in the combat area. We can investigate at your command."
"Save it for later." Balgruuf waves it away. "Where is the dragon going?"
"Rorikstead."
.
.
.
{ === + === }
Author Notes:
DUN DUN DUN~