Before The Storm
Loading Screen… There are nine holds in the kingdom of Skyrim, ten if one includes the underhold of Blackreach…
~Q~Q~
"Pale skin, snotty expression. You're a Breton! The masters of magicka, right? Hmph. Nothing but a bunch of stuck-up snobs with cheap parlor tricks." The plaque next to the prisoner read Valen Dreth. The Dunmer seemed well over two-hundred years old.
Stesha gazed around the small space he was in. A barred grate shone light from Fort Neugrad and there was a small table and stool in the room with shackles. This was Falkreathal Hold, the southernmost holding in Skyrim. – After the Nightingale had killed Krev, the Imperial guards had rushed the scene and ushered all the prisoners into the cells of the fort, locking everything down. Stesha had slept a day in his little cot and woke up today, on the thirtieth of Last Seed, fourth era, year two-hundred and one.
Valen however, kept talking, "go ahead, try your magicka in here. Let's see you make those bars disappear. No? What's the matter? Not so powerful now, are you Breton?"
Stesha grimaced. He was never powerful to begin with.
"You're not leaving this prison 'til they throw your body in the lake. Oh, that's right. You're going to die in here, Breton! You're going to die!" Taunted Valen. "Hey, you hear that? The guards are coming… for you! He he he he he."
Gwendal and the friendly looking captain came around the corner of the hallway. Her name was Rikke, if Stesha recalled. Captain Rikke wore silver plate-mail over a red shirt and Imperial kilt. She was a Nord. They marched right up to Stesha's cell and unlocked it. Low candlelight flickering in corners on top of tea plates.
"I'm Captain Rikke Tullius, I have some questions—." Rikke fell flat on the ground, her body rolling over.
Gwendal had cast a paralysis spell on her.
"Thanks." Stesha stretched a bit, bending over and touching his feet.
Gwendal scratched the area under his nose. "Let's find Hadvar and Aela and get out of here."
Stesha nodded as Valen outcried, "what about me boys! I've seen this all before! You're not going to leave me, are you?!"
Stesha mock pouted and turned his head. "Oh no, too bad."
"Azura curse you!" Valen clenched his fists so tight Stesha could see veins erupt over his skin.
Stesha and Gwendal stalked down the hall. Candles rested on wood hewn tables and the interior was made of clay, grey bricks, and mortar. A rug laid over the floor. Stesha peaked around the corner and barely dodged a guard's eye.
"The College of Winter Hold is the first place I'd go if I wanted to learn about magic," intoned one of the guards to the other.
Hmm, thought Stesha.
They waited until the guards finished talking and they could hear their footsteps die down the hall. Then they took a left at the junction and snuck toward the opening at the end of the corridor. A window showcased the mountainous terrain of Falkreathal Hold. Curvatures of hills melding into one another, decorated with ice. It was as if the gods had been sparked with a rare bout of inspiration and decided Skyrim was to truly be unique from its counterpart provinces. The landscapes were simply strange and unnatural.
They came into a control room of sorts. Various buttons and levers inside a panel with barred doors leading in and out. More windows showcasing the outside world. From here Stesha saw poll shaped plants dotting the alp.
Gwendal's face drew into a mischievous little smirk. "What does this do?"
He pressed a big red button that was labeled: do not press! – All around Stesha heard the sounds of doors being opened, clanging against stone. Not long after, the cries of battle and meeting of steel could also be heard.
Ah great, here we go again.
Stesha and Gwendal rushed through the building, veering left and right. Criminals had escaped their jail cells and were battling the guards. Ralof did a three-punch combination on Tullius who drew his sword and slashed at the bandit, wobbling him.
"True Nords never back down!" Cried Ralof as he swung an elbow towards Tullius.
Stesha and Gwendal bumped into Hadvar and Aela. They were all a bit disoriented it seemed.
"We need to get out of here." Hadvar gestured towards the back exit. Wooden posts outlining the door frame.
Stesha followed them out as they weaved their way through groups of battling soldiers surrounded by mortared mur. Timber columns were structured at ends of the hallways to reinforce the roof and stonework. They made their way to the stilted door at the opposite end, but the Imperial captain, Delta was there.
"You four aren't escaping here, otherwise my name isn't Delta Saia!" She drew her sword.
"Oh, get a life you stupid buffoon!" Gwendal aimed two fireballs at Saia and shot them at her.
She screamed as she was burned to a crisp, the fire charring her skin and melting the epidermis. Until she collapsed on the ground as a corpse. Flamed and bruised.
Aela gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.
"Gwendal…" Hadvar looked at him and so did Stesha and Aela.
"That fucker was just another Jenassa, and I'm not going through that again." Gwendal shoved aside the door. "Come on." He rubbed the whip marks on his back. They cut rather deep for a whip.
Pretty sure it was him who directed the wyvern to eat Jenassa too. What's gotten into him? Stesha thought, are we any better than a killer if we kill too? Or am I just too weak to take a life?
"I guess Captain Rikke is Legate Rikke now," Gwendal said.
They exited Fort Neugrad to be greeted by a sea of snow that spanned all the way down the hilltop. There were finally some trees here, long spruce that stretched on forever mixed with some pines. Crystalline structures leftover by the Snow Elves stuck up here and there. White obelisks and curving arches. – The quartet trailed their way down as a group of criminals descended the countryside on the other end of the fort towards the lake. They carried spears, swords, and crossbows, all robbed from the fort.
"We need to warn the Jarl of Whiterun. If there's criminals on the run, people are in danger." Aela looked at the three of them, but mostly Hadvar. "My old group, the Fighter's Guild is holed up in there. We'll be safe."
"I have family in Whiterun too," Hadvar mentioned. "My uncle Alvor and his kin live there."
"Why didn't you mention this before?" Gwendal snapped.
Hadvar paused. "I did, if you bothered to listen. We should stop by there on our way to see the Jarl. Or after."
Stesha felt uneasy as they set off, curving their way over snow covered roads and down into a small forest as a white river peacefully poured through the center under a large, monumental barrow that was coated with frost. Huge nordic monoliths structured together, as a monument to a time long forgotten. Stesha noticed the whole thing was collapsed in on itself and the entrance was blocked by a boulder, not allowing any to pass through.
"That's Bleak Falls Barrow," Aela pointed out. "It's impossible to get in though, the doorway is blockaded. The Fighters Guild and I have tried countless times at the behest of the Whiterun court wizard, Farengar Secret-Fire."
"What does he want from it?" Stesha's brow curved like a scimitar.
"He believes it's the headquarters of Skyrim's underground skooma operation. If you didn't know, skooma addiction is a real problem here. So much so the Jarls have been thinking of legalizing it so they can reap a share of the profits." Aela crunched her knuckles as a light pink snow began to fall from the puffy pink clouds. The sky was bright blue here and it still snowed.
Skyrim was weird.
They came upon three standing stones. Spade shaped constructions with figures etched onto their surface. One resembling a warrior, another a thief, and one a mage.
"What are these?" Hadvar's shoulders rose and fell like the waves of an ocean.
"Standing Stones, they boost your skillset." Aela touched the thief one as Gwendal approached the mage.
Hadvar chose the warrior, but Stesha stood still, blinking blankly at the three structures. None of these apply to me. I'm so useless. He suppressed the urge to tear up. I fail at everything I do.
Lake Ilinalta it was called, rested before them. Surrounded by monstrous magenta leaved trees with bright blue water within the basin. The forestry was quickly becoming claustrophobic. A boat rested near the white shore with a fishing rod laying in it.
Wait a second…
The frozen and primeval city of Altanium sat in the center of the lake on a small island. Once a bastion for the Snow Elves before the Atmorans froze it, rendering it inaccessible. Stesha could still see the remains of Snow Elves preserved in ice. The old settlement was quite literally just a massive block of ice in the middle of the loch now. Children, women, men, none were spared the cruelty of mankind.
Gwendal was staring at it too, rage erupting across his face. "Those savages of Ysgramor or early kings of Skyrim must've used some sort of thu'um to freeze those elves alive."
Stesha shook his head in utter disgust too. "If only there was a way we could free them."
"Let's just… uh, let's just keep moving." Aela strolled down the lane as pink colored snow continued to descend upon them.
"It's never too late to take charge of your own fate, you know?" Hadvar put a hand on Stesha's shoulder, nodding towards the standing stones.
"Sure, whatever." Stesha looked on ahead, throwing an eye back the looming figure of Altanium.
They crossed a glade, this one with giant mushrooms all around, glowing turquoise. Rows of pink roses as they passed into Drekaholl Hold, home of Skyrim's biggest city, Whiterun. They could see it, even from here. – The group of four waxed and waned around the bends and took the long walk towards Whiterun.
Now Whiterun, Whiterun was a city to behold. The metropolis' structure was adhered to a hill, the Jarl's palace at the highest point. Everything was a royal gray color. Colossal walls guarded the city, and all the farms were inside the town as opposed to outside like in High Rock, at least that could be assumed since no farm stood outside the city gates, allowing Stesha to presume they must be within. The only things outside the city were cranes and abandoned huts and snow elf structures on the eastern end. Archery towers were placed at corners of the walls, melding together. Cone-shaped battlements up top. Statues and flag posts with flailing banners.
Stesha and the crew walked around the massiveness as guards patrolled the footbridges atop the walls. Yellow aspen trees sprouted up in some nooks. Stesha and his friends arrived at the main gate situated at the western end of the holding. Braziers with fire lighting up the entryway. The guards thrust open the gate for them. What he saw next was a feast for the eyes.
First of all, the stonework was immaculate. Like paved grey gold. The roadways composed of smooth, tiled slate. Slick stone buildings worked with overlaid roofs decorating four of five districts. If Stesha remembered correctly from his geography books, the lowest district was the Farm District which was followed by the Plains District then the Wind District, Mountain District, and finally the Cloud District. – The weapon store had gates that barred around it and an Imperial woman, and a Nord in Imperial armor were discussing out front.
Yellow bushes planted in the rare garden pot. There was absolutely no grass within the city outside the Farm District. All the flooring was stone. The group proceeded through the municipal, spotting big archways and towers, people buying and selling in the market. Ogier artisans decorating buildings. An inn and several stores in a circle. Massive doors and stairs led to the upward Mountain District. - In the Wind District, there was a giant statue of Saint Charlamagne worked into the center square. He was an Imperial man with neat, gelled hair and a muscular physique, wearing a cloak with a tight leather cuirass.
Aela moved her arm towards an overturned boathouse east of Charlamagne's giant statue. "That's the Fighter's Guild headquarters, Jorrvaskr."
In the corner, across from the Temple of Kynareth was a statue of a Golden Dragon and an Altmer priest of Akatosh shouting praise, "for when Akatosh walked Nirn as an Aldmer named Auriel, he said, 'greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.'"
"That's Etcheldor Annundaer," explained Aela as they ascended the smooth, stone staircase. It was very wide. "We're going to Dragonsreach, the Jarl's palace."
She pointed toward a huge building as they entered another archway. Runic warheads hung off the stilts of the coned rooves of Dragonsreach and a banister with another stone archway preceded the castle. Two parapets. Statues of giant hooded men stood at the guardrails to the keep. If there was two words to describe Whiterun it would be: giant fortress. The whole city fortified and reinforced with stone and borders.
They entered Dragonsreach, viewing the pillars that held up the vast expanse. It was a nordic style castle, comprised of fine wood with rugs lying over the floor. Servants were sweeping as the four stepped up the steps towards the main chamber where dining tables were placed. The Jarl sat on his throne at the head of the foyer, a Dragon's skull hanging from atop. Brazier pots lit the throne room.
"If the news from Fort Neugrad is true… well, there's no telling what it means," said the Imperial steward. A stuffy looking man with a balding head in royal attire. "My lord, please, you have to listen."
"What would you have me do then? Nothing?" The Jarl questioned angrily.
"My lord. Please. This is no time for rash action. I just think we need more information before we act."
A Dunmer in leather armor who stood near the other two drew her steel sword and made an advance towards them. "What's the meaning of this interruption? Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving visitors."
Aela looked at the crew. "We have news from Fort Neugrad. About the escaped prisoners."
"As housecarl and Queen, Irileth Balgruuf, my job is to deal with all dangers that threaten the Jarl or his people. So, you four have my attention. Now, explain yourselves," Irileth demanded.
Queen and protector of the Jarl at the same time. What is this? Chess?
"Our message is for the Jarl alone," Gwendal harrumphed.
"Whatever you have to say to the Jarl, you can say to me," the red-haired Dunmer exclaimed. "I'm starting to think…"
"It's alright, my love," called Balgruuf. "I want to hear what they have to say."
The quartet made over to the Jarl Theo Balgruuf as his plaque denoted. He was a buff man with long black hair tied back into a ponytail. Stesha's eye glanced sidelong and he saw an oven and roast meats going in and out of the kitchens to their left. A table full of ingredients.
"What's this Aela? Who is this young Nord and two small Manmer you've brought me?" The Jarl stroked his big, black beard.
Stesha cowered a bit behind Hadvar as Aela spoke up, "the prisoners from Fort Neugrad escaped."
"You're sure the prisoners escaped? This wasn't a bandit uprising gone wrong?" Balgruuf positioned his thumb and elbow atop the chair's arm.
"We were there when they escaped," Hadvar pitched in.
"By Charlamagne, Irileth was right!" The Jarl's black brows went into his hair. "What do you say now, Proventus? Shall we continue to trust in the strength of our walls? Against an army of thugs?"
"My love, we should send troops to the border at once." Irileth approached the Jarl and Proventus. "If prisoners are lurking in the mountains…"
"The Jarl of Falkreath will view that as a provocation. He'll assume we're preparing to attack him!" Proventus slashed his arm diagonally. "We should not."
"Enough! I'll not stand idly by while dangerous criminals pillage my land and slaughter my people!" Balgruuf raised his voice. "Irileth, send a detachment to the border at once."
"Yes, my Jarl." Irileth bowed.
"If you'll excuse me, I'll return to my duties." Proventus swanned off.
"That would be best," Jarl Balgruuf sighed heavily. "Well done. You four sought me out, on your own initiative. You've all done Whiterun a service, and I won't forget it. You may enter and stay in Dragonsreach as long as you wish, as a small token of my esteem. – Now you two, Manmer. There is another thing you could do for me. Suitable for Bretons of your particular talent, perhaps. I've heard young Bretons love questing for nobles, so let's see if you can prove yourselves like your Nord brethren here. Come, you two, let's go find Farengar, my court wizard. He's been looking into a matter related to a virus… and rumors of a virus."
The four looked at each other and shrugged, following the king out towards the side room. Hadvar and Aela stood near some bookshelves and began discussing something in hushed whispers as Gwendal and Stesha approached Farengar Secret-Fire with the Jarl of Whiterun. – Farengar's room held a table and plain, peeling wallpaper. A map of Skyrim to the side, and enchanting and alchemy tables toward the front. Two ebony-armored guards stood on post there too.
Stesha stopped and observed the map, taking careful note of all the holds and their capitals. The hold of Northshore intrigued him greatly since there was an underwater city there, off the northwestern coast of Skyrim.
"Farengar, I think I've found some boys who can help you with your virus project." Balgruuf crossed his arms in front of the robed figure that was Farengar. "Go ahead and fill them in with all the details."
Farengar smirked from beneath his hood, staring at Stesha and Gwendal. "So, the Jarl thinks you two can be of use to me. Oh yes, he must be referring to my research into a small virus that's recently popped up. Yes, I could use some people to fetch something for me. Well, when I say fetch, I really mean delve into a dangerous ruin in search of ancient Elder Scroll that may or may not actually be there. – I, uh, learned of a certain Elder Scroll said to be housed in Mzulft – a Dwemer ruin…"
~Q~Q~
A/N: Don't worry, I'm not gonna copy the vanilla main quest. I'm makin my own. Trust.