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Skyrim Spartan

Chapter Two

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With a sharp intake of breath, Kratos snapped his eyes open as he returned to consciousness with all the abruptness and desperation of a man coming up for a big gulp of precious life-giving air after spending too long in the depths of the sea.

His heart raced and his head pounded like the morning after a night full of revelry. The thought made him wonder when he even last had a night of revelry. Such days seemed so distant that they might as well have been figments of his imagination. Was he even capable of revelry anymore?

His body felt heavy as it rested against the hard ground, his movements were labored and sluggish, and when his blurred vision finally came into focus, he realized that he was staring straight up into a breathtakingly clear starry night sky. But perhaps more importantly, it was a night sky that he could not recognize. And not only were the stars significantly different from the ones he knew, but the moon was tinged red and absolutely enormous!

In fact, upon closer inspection there appeared to be two moons. The smaller of the two moons was only just peeking out from behind the larger. That really threw him off. Since when were there two moons?

He slowly reached up and rubbed his eyes, blinking several times to make sure that he was actually seeing the heavens above as they were. Sure enough, the moons remained where he first saw them, and the unfamiliar stars twinkled just as brightly as the ones he knew from Greece.

Just where in the world was he? How far did that unknown god send him?

A cold wind blew across his body, making him aware of his apparent nakedness. Thankfully, though Kratos could certainly tell whether it was hot or cold, his body wasn't really affected by external temperature. At least not as drastically as it affected normal humans. It would take a much steeper drop in temperature to even make him shiver.

He shut his eyes and lay on the ground for a little while longer, feeling more of his strength returning to him as time passed. Despite not knowing where he was and not having any clothes, Kratos was in no hurry to get moving. It felt rather nice to just lay there and rest without a care in the world. He wondered if he should try to die again but after some thought he figured that the god who brought him here probably wouldn't allow it.

The thought of not being allowed to do as he pleased rankled a bit, but then again when have the gods ever truly cared about how others felt?

Finally, after some time had passed, he decided that perhaps he should at least explore the immediate area. He sat up and looked around, noting that he was in a small clearing surrounded by trees, brush, and boulders of all sizes near the top of a rocky hill. There were a few other similar hills close by, and a few of them were tall enough to even have surprisingly steep cliff faces.

Far in the distance he could see the dark silhouettes of vast mountain ranges that seemed to encircle the region. Even the mountains didn't look familiar to him at all, and he concluded that he was in a vastly different land now, far removed from the Greece he once knew.

Not that Greece even existed now after what he had done. He briefly wondered if Olympus was still standing, or if the roiling Mediterranean managed to finally knock it down after Kratos died. Again. How many times was that now?

He sighed. For someone who kept dying, he sure had a difficult time staying dead. Although this time his return to the land of the living wasn't actually his doing. No, that would be the work of that unknown god who called itself Akatosh.

As if on cue, behind him came the sound of thrumming energy, and when he turned to check on what it could be, he saw what looked to be a shrine of sorts. In the middle of which stood a small statuette made of a dark stone no more than two feet high. The statuette was shaped into the form of some winged serpent that seemed to be wrapping itself around a tower with a globular top. Its head was pointing downward, with jaws open towards an upturned sword that it appeared to be swallowing.

It sat upon a stone pedestal of similar coloring, beneath which were laid various offerings. There were flowers, trinkets, gold coins, weapons, clothes, armor, and even books. What really drew his attention though was the fact that the statuette appeared to be glowing with a soft white energy, emitting a loud thrumming that reverberated through Kratos's body and the nearby surroundings.

This was a shrine to Akatosh, of that he had no doubt.

As if acknowledging that conclusion, the energy surrounding the shrine flashed brilliantly for a second and then shot up into the sky in a column of light that Kratos was sure could be seen from every corner of this mysterious land. Then it was gone, leaving him in the quiet dark of night for a few seconds before the insects began their familiar orchestra, apparently concluding that it was now safe again to do so.

Kratos stared at the shrine then glanced down at the offerings. He was willing to bet that all those items were brought here through divine machinations specifically for this very moment that he would appear. It was tempting to refuse the items altogether and go on his own way, and while he debated what to do, another cold gust of wind blew across his naked body.

The big Spartan let out a long sigh. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to at least put on some clothes.

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Anske couldn't sleep. She lay in bed with her eyes closed, listening to the soft crackling of the firepit beyond the door to her room. Try as she might, sleep continued to elude her and time passed incredibly slowly. Eventually, she decided that perhaps what she needed was to expend some of the excess energy that was keeping her from drifting off to sleep, and a nice stroll around the village was probably going to do the trick.

Not bothering to light any of the lamps in her room, she dressed quickly in the mostly dark room. The only light came from the gaps in the door that led out into the main hall. One of the benefits of knowing where everything was in her room was that she didn't really need a lot of light to find things. Once she was finished, she quietly poked her head out the door and glanced around the main hall of the Frostfruit Inn.

It was, as expected, deserted, though she still breathed a sigh of relief that her father wasn't still out there. He wouldn't be too pleased with her sneaking out in the middle of the night by herself, regardless if there were guards out on patrol in the village. Thankfully, it appeared he was already asleep, or at the very least was in his room. From her experience, he rarely left his room until morning once he retired for the evening.

She carefully made her way to the front door, which she deftly unlocked with the practiced ease of someone who had done this many times before, and then slipped out into the cool evening air.

The Frostfruit Inn was situated at the heart of the peaceful village of Rorikstead and was second only to Rorik's Manor in size. Of course, that wasn't really saying much considering that there were only a few dozen families that lived in the village, many of whom were farmers with small thatched-roof houses clustered together around the village center.

Anske's father, Mralki, had built the inn with his own two hands, although not entirely. He did have some help from a few of the other villagers, most notably his good friends Rorik and Jouane from his Legionnaire days, but for the most part he had built it himself. It was a source of pride for her father, and Anske couldn't help but feel some pride in it as well.

Nowadays, she helped her father run the inn as best as she could, though in recent years she had begun to feel a growing restlessness within her. She yearned to go on an adventure of her own, to travel far away from home and see for herself all these places and peoples that were only described to her through the stories of others.

But her father was strongly against her leaving, and even more so against her wish to become an adventurer. He said she was too naïve about how dangerous the world was beyond the warmth and safety of Rorikstead, but how could she learn if she didn't go out there and experience the reality of the world beyond?

Earlier in the day, she had broached the subject once more and was again shot down by her father. When she continued to press him on the subject, he finally relented and asked that she at least stay one more growing season, though he looked sad and tired as he spoke the words and she felt guilty for it.

Perhaps that was why she was unable to fall asleep tonight.

She loved her father, the Frostruit Inn, and Rorikstead. This was home after all, and she had plenty of good memories growing up here. But the village was only a tiny part of a wider and far greater world that she was made well aware of thanks to the nature of the family business.

One of the best things about working at the inn, or perhaps the best thing, was meeting all sorts of people who traveled through the village on their way to far more interesting places.

Most travelers who stopped by were Nords, Imperials, or Bretons, but Anske had encountered some who came from as far away as Black Marsh and even the Summerset Isles. Seeing an Argonian up close for the first time as a child was something that Anske would never forget, and she smiled at the memory of Ah-Kai Kascalees and his fascinating emerald-green scales. She spent many weeks afterwards pondering what it would be like to have a tail.

The inn was easily the most exciting place to be in Rorikstead, but with each passing day and each new story of adventure or travel she heard, Anske's desire to seek out her own adventures and explore the world out there for herself grew. Yet she remained at the inn, dutifully supporting her father who reminded her time and again how much he needed her and appreciated her hard work.

"Septim fer yer thoughts?" asked a bemused voice that brought her straight out of her thoughts.

Anske stopped her aimless walking and turned towards the voice.

Standing before her with spear and torch in hand, clad in a scaled armor vest, chainmail shirt, and draped with the yellow cloth of the Whiterun Guard, was the man known as Vors. His birth name was actually Vorstag, but he preferred that people call him Vors instead, and he was about twelve or fifteen years older than Anske if she were to guess. She didn't actually know how old he was, and thought it improper to ask.

"Hey Vors," she said in greeting. "Sorry, I didn't see you there."

"Hey's fer horses, lass," remarked Vors and he laughed heartily at his own joke.

Anske couldn't help but let out an amused snort and grin at the man. "How go the patrols tonight?" she asked.

Vors casually rested the spear he was holding across his right shoulder. "Same's always, quiet an' uneventful. Nothing bad ever happens 'round here, ye know. 'cept for the occasionaly drunk traveler at yer inn, or a wolf stealing away a goat or some chickens."

"Yeah," she agreed. "But don't you yearn for a little more… excitement?"

"S'that what yer doing out here in the middle o' the night? Lookin' fer excitement?"

Anske shook her head. "No, I just… I couldn't sleep. So I thought I'd go for a little walk to help me fall asleep better."

"Ye sure that's all there's te it?" Vors raised his thick eyebrows at her. "I mean, ye walked all the way te the very edge o' the village 'fore I decided te stop ye."

Eyes going wide, Anske quickly swept her gaze around and sure enough they were well past the outer perimeter of what could be called Rorikstead. She had been more wrapped up in her thoughts than she realized and ended up walking farther than she planned. Well, not that she really planned to walk anywhere specific once she set out earlier.

A wolf howled somewhere in the distance, making Anske jump a little and warily eye the surrounding darkness beyond the light from Vors's torch.

"Tell ye what," said Vors, gripping his spear a little tighter, "How's about we head back and ye can tell me about yer troubles."

Anske agreed to that easily enough and they made their way back towards the village proper.

As they neared the inn, and Anske shared her desire to leave the village and become an adventurer but talked about her own uncertainty as well as her father's opposition, Vors stopped and turned to her with a serious expression.

"I understand how ye feel, lass. Yer situation… it ain't an easy one fer sure," he said. "We Nords value family and tradition, but we also value freedom and independence. Yer father is a good man, and I believe he's only trying to protect ye as best as a father can."

Anske nodded. That was true enough. She understood that her father was only doing what he thought was best to protect his family. To protect her.

"He's right about the world out there. It can be harsh and unforgiving, and it can easily kill a man if he be ill-prepared to face it," he paused and smirked, "Or a woman, fer that matter. But in the end, if yer heart's truly set on this path, a good father will support ye. And he will. That I'm sure of, lass."

"So," Anske's brow furrowed. "You're saying that I should…?"

Vors laughed. "I ain't telling ye to do nothin' more than te follow yer heart. Whatever ye decide, make sure that ye commit te it completely so that ye won't be having no regrets, eh?"

She took a deep breath. She still had a lot to think about, but it felt good to talk about it with someone other than her father. With a determined look in her eye, she gave the sergeant a firm nod.

"Right. Starting today, I will do my best to better prepare myself for the life of an adventurer then," she declared. "And when I feel ready, I'll set out. With father's blessing."

Vors grinned. He opened his mouth to speak, but then stopped himself as his eyes flicked to something in the distance behind Anske. His expression changed from amused to mystified, then he turned serious and his jaw firmed.

"Get back inside the inn, lass," was all he said as he broke into jog and left her where she was standing as he barked to the closest guard to round up the others.

Anske, surprised at the abrupt ending of their conversation, spun around to look at what had caught the sergeant's eye that warranted such a reaction. And when she saw what it was, her heart raced and her limbs tingled with excitement.

On the far side of the closest hill just north of the village, a pillar of light stretched up into the heavens.

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AN: I will be taking many creative liberties, so don't expect things to be following the lore of either world to the letter. Some of you might have recognized that Anske here replaces Erik (Erik the Slayer) from Rorikstead. I almost named her Erika, but decided I liked the name Anske better. Hope you enjoy!