The Beginning
Story Summary: What if Skyrim had a different vilain and story altogether? (No Alduin or Talos or Thalmor - No Civil War, No Great War). Instead of a Dragon Crisis, a deadly plague has infected Skyrim, and it's up to the Dragonborn and Serana to figure out who or what created it and why.
A total rewrite and redesign of Skyrim. A High Fantasy remake of Skyrim w/ light steampunk and fairytale elements. (Think winter wonderland).
Foreword: This story is a complete remodel of Skyrim's world and main story. Changes to the lore are inevitable for story reasons. The main character of this story is a male Breton Dragonborn named Stesha (a young drug addict). He will be romantically paired with Serana, the main character of Dawnguard.
Disclaimer: The Elder Scrolls belongs to Godd Howard.
Warnings: Violence, Sexual Themes, Drug & Alcohol Use, Harsh Language.
In Memory of Demetrius Guice
~Q~Q~
"A man who is never loved will only know how to hate," – The Saint, Charlamagne Guice.
The Golden Dragon roared and swam about. "I watch over all my children. Dragons, elves, and men alike."
A dark figure replied, wearing a black robe and a crow-mask, "I shall exact vengeance on the thieves that took what was theirs."
Vague white veins rippled across his vision as his eyelids peeled open. Stesha Jade glanced down at the pearl white bed sheets decorating his legs and shuffled out of them. He glanced out the window and saw children playing in the nook that was their small mountain village called Wind Keep. Small huts neighbouring stone mills and stands stood around the remote location. — His bedroom was the same as always. Light blue painted walls, plush toys on bookshelves, and a crescent shaped window.
Stesha drifted into the washroom, turning on the dwarven faucets and enjoying the warm chill of water sliding across his frame. The tendrils of Mother Nature slithering their way around. He stepped out and gathered his hair into a bundle over the sink, squeezing the water out of the dark lochs. Stesha adjusted his braces over his teeth, stepping out of his room and dawdled down the dark steps, some family portraits lining the walls as he came out into the kitchen. He caught his reflection in the windows.
Stesha had pale skin, semi-long black hair and dark-brown eyes. He had a pair of buckteeth with braces over them, and his ears had a slight point towards the ends. A frail frame and average height for a Breton. Wobbly knees and prominent shoulders.
They were a Breton family, living in a cottage home with windowsills that had bird feeders attached to them. A few robins slurping up the tinged, sugary liquid. Mother and father, Mildred and Courtlend, were cooking eggs with sliced baguette. Butter slathered across its surface. Stesha used the decanter to pour himself some coffee and sat down at the table as his older sister, Boadicea entered the room.
"Is this my water glass?" Stesha grabbed the tall cup resting on the edge of the porcelain table. "I left it here I think." He was a nineteen-year-old boy, having just finished his schooling at Wind Keep Academy of Arts last year.
His parents were on the town council alongside Boadicea, who was twenty-three. Mother and Boadicea looked a part like Stesha himself; the three of them having rabbit-like faces with dark hair and eyes. While Courtlend had a receding hairline coupled with a goatee.
Boadicea copied him and poured herself a cup of coffee. She was holding a copy of the Black-Horse Courier. "So, the Arena in the Imperial City is hosting the Aetheriucs Competition this year. The main event is a battle against a wyvern."
"Blood sport." Courtlend, their father shook his head.
"Who are the contenders?" Mother asked as she took a seat at the table.
A few birds gathered at the windowsill to share their breakfast as well. Stesha observed the fine wooden make of the countertop juxtaposed to the metal kettles, pots and pans tinkering about the stove.
He glanced down, flitting his eyelashes in thought.
Soon enough father joined them in eating their breakfast. The sun outside shone a warm golden yellow, highlighting the trees of the Stormhaven region, saturated in deep green. The tile work of the stones the city was built in and roofed houses. A few knights patrolling the outland.
"Where are you running to today, Stesha?" His mother asked him.
Stesha used a piece of his baguette to cradle the egg before chewing it. "Wayrest. No wait, that's tomorrow."
"Hadvar's going with you?" His mother clenched her teeth.
Stesha nodded. "I don't think there will be anything too dangerous on the road."
"Akatosh keep you," Mildred extolled.
"Nah, Peryite take you!" Boadicea teased to a slight smile from Stesha.
Later he was stalking through the quiet village, a satchel strapped across his shoulder, making his way to the post office. The buildings of the village ranged from wooden huts to brick made with elegant rooves yet still managed to be unremarkable. He passed the Manteau Manor and Wayside Inn with a great, spiralling tree near the courtyard as he came upon the mail station. Flowerpots with wilted petunias welted out of the soil against the metal bar raised above the door.
It was a short room with cubbies for assorted parcels and a desktop with a glass pane ahead of it. Stesha pushed the small door and nodded at the other couriers there. He waved to Hadvar, his lifelong friend and guard on duty. Stesha thrummed his fingers in a staccato as he took packages and shuffled them into the correct apartments. But a few hours of repeating those motions proved to be tiresome and dull.
Hadvar peered around a bit then waddled over to him near the buttress. "How's it going?"
Stesha folded a few papers away, sweeping them into the correct section under the abutments of the dresser. "You ready for the walk to Wayrest tomorrow?"
"Yeah, should be decent weather according to Demelza." Hadvar was a Nord boy with bright gold eyes and semi-long brown hair. Where Stesha was frail and weak, Hadvar was muscled and strong.
"You're fighting off any wolves. Don't expect me to be any help." Stesha grinned.
After work Stesha sat by the brook underneath a tree as a tranquil flush of water passed by. A few cranes plucked at fish from the stream as Stesha read a book.
He took a deep breath as he boringly scanned the pages. A forest of trees guarding the way to Wayrest. Flowers poking out hither and thither.
"The sun is nearly gone," Hadvar began.
"The candles are turning on," returned Stesha with a small smirk.
"A silver shine that stretches to the sea," Hadvar went on.
"We stumble on a view." Stesha looked toward the array of trees beneath the horizon.
"That's tailor made for two," Hadvar continued.
"What a shame those two are you and me," sang Stesha.
"Some other bird and I would love this swirling sky." Hadvar plopped down next to him.
"But there's only you and I." Stesha slugged him on the shoulder. "There really is nothing in this village, I'm starting to realize."
"Yeah." Hadvar laid back on his elbows, viewing the dropping gleam of Magnus. "Maybe we should try our luck in the Aetheriucs. Gwendal could help."
"Yeah maybe." Stesha chewed on the idea. "Would beat this mundanity."
Hadvar adjusted his spot on the grass and glanced around, as if to make sure no one was watching them. He pulled a bag with two green bottles out of his armor pockets. Handing one to Stesha.
Stesha broke into a loose grin.
"It's skooma. I'm telling you this stuff is the greatest. Try it." Hadvar uncorked his bottle and began downing it. "Gwendal introduced me to it."
Stesha drank his share. He'd never tried it before.
After a few minutes things started to get trippy. Stesha laid back against the tree trunk as his senses relaxed and heightened simultaneously. The grass beneath them melded into one continuous groundcover and a bunny laid down next to them. The tree branches in the distant woodland started to mix like floating arteries.
"Hadvar, can you do something for me."
But Hadvar was in his own loopy state, rocking back and forth to the sweet sway of a harp that's musical notes rode on the slight wind out of the Wayside Inn.
This stuff's pretty good, thought Stesha, I'll need to find more of this.
That night Stesha was in his room, sitting on his chair in front of the window. Making out the silhouettes of the chateaux as a light rain pattered the ground. The sky clouds bleeding rainwater. — Stesha scrambled into his bed, pulling the duvet over him, and falling sound asleep.
In his dreams he saw the dark figure again, cloaked, hooded, and wearing a crow mask hiding in shaded corners. Haunting him from here and there.
"In their home, that thieves have stolen. Beneath do they toil, that we might remember. By night we reclaim, what by day was stolen. Far from us, but they grow ever near. Their eyes once were obscured, now through me do they see. Their hands once were idle, now through me do they speak."
Stesha ghosted, turning corners to search for the man in the crow mask as his speech resounded through all turnings.
"And when the world shall listen, and when the world shall see. And when the world remembers: that world shall cease to be."
The next morning saw Stesha and Hadvar on the road toward Wayrest. Stesha mulling over the weird dreams he'd had. Who was the man in the crow-shaped mask?
Stesha felt groggy as he walked upright, rubbing the back of his head. The sun was rising and had settled into an orange glow past the Iliac Bay. Verdant fertile lands, grazing pastures and thin colorful woodlands canvassed the area. They were strolling on a small hill outside Wayrest, near a cave entrance and some rocks. The settlement looked impressive from here, with its guard towers and battlements, a firm wall as well.
They glided down the compact hillside, towards a group of kids his age who were wasting away outside the stone fortifications, plumaged in greenery and torn posts and fences. Falling plumes of harpies overhead and blooming flowers nearby. The familiar ring of a nirnroot in the remoteness of it all. It was an abandoned abbey called Dreughside, cornered by the large Bjoulsae River, gleaming in the sunset that soaked Wayrest Docks. Stesha looked over and saw the peak of the Adamantine Tower wink at him.
"So, Beaucourt? What's it like serving the Queen?" A Breton named Alauna wondered out loud.
Beaucourt smoked a puff of skooma. "She's a good Queen. You know how it is."
"Is that all you can say," laughed Alauna. "No, I don't know how it is."
"Oh hey, Hadvar, Stesha," sleazed Beaucourt, "wanna join us."
"Yeah," Stesha said.
Their friend Gwendal was seated nearby on a stone bench, firm grass packed beneath it. He stood up and trailed towards the duo. The nineteen-year-old had messy brown hair, a thin build, and green eyes reminiscent of emeralds.
"My boys." Gwendal clapped hands with Stesha and Hadvar each.
"Good to see you, Gwen." Hadvar smiled and Stesha did too. "You got the good skooma this time?" The Nord raised a brow.
Stesha hissed, "you want everyone to hear you?!"
"What; you can't find your way back to your rabbit burrow?" Alauna retorted.
The others cawed in hooting laughter.
"That's some nasty destruction magic," Hadvar chuckled.
Stesha's ears twitched. - The lot of them began rambling loudly and soon you had to shout to be heard.
"Let's head out, Hadvar." Stesha gestured with his head.
Stesha, Hadvar, and Gwendal tramped off towards the outer wall. Purple flowers blossomed in the nearby vineyard. Stesha could smell the wine press and sniffed the grapes from here. The tall battlements of Wayrest had rook shaped caps with cone covers, flags dangling off. Some trumpeters were playing outside as games were being held, horse races and jousting battles for the local Knightly Order.
"You guys wanna give it a try?" Hadvar's eyes gestured to the festivities.
Stesha bit down on his mouth. "Nah. Let's get drunk instead after we drop off these letters."
The city gateway was shaped like an arch, grey with bannisters of the Wayrest colors hanging off and flapping in the light breeze. The knights on watch gave them cursory overviews then let them proceed inside the breezeway. The trio paced onto the flagstones. The marketplace was bumbling with stalls of fresh produce; vegetables farmed from the outdoor gardens. Fishermen selling their catches or butchers showing off their prized game.
They arrived at the courier's office and assorted some of their parcels into the cubbies there while carefully preserving the letter to the Queen. Then they left the stone base building after that and headed up the grey steps towards the Wayrest Chateau. Stesha hummed to himself a song Boadicea taught him. The boys tinseled their way past the gates and into the tiled antechamber. The queen, Lyra Barynia sat on the throne with her husband Sir Richard Lionhart.
The courtroom was magnificent, the table for debate and food a magnum-opus of a centerpiece. Shaped like an oval ring with the Queen's throne at the forefront, and all her subjects on the sides of the banquet. Servants and guards resided by the ornately painted walls, lined with exquisite portraits, watching over and catering to everyone's whims and needs. The ceiling was made of huge tiles of a royal red colour with gold linings to separate them. The chamber really was quite something, Stesha had to admit.
Hadvar sighed slightly then smirked. "A few pretentious Breton debaters here, an Imperial diplomat there."
Gwendal grinned gleefully. "Which one of these debaters do you think are master debaters?"
Stesha rolled his eyes.
A butler ushered them into some seats. "Yes, young men, please be seated. The Queen will be with you after the court proceedings. Please help yourselves to some food."
They nodded cordially surveying the remnants of the breakfast leftovers. Porridge, tea, coffee, sliced fruit and some omelet.
"I'd rather smoke more skooma." Stesha gave his friends a bored look.
"Sebastien! I saved you a spot," a woman said as her companion joined her.
"But evidently not any breakfast," Sebastien laughed amongst the uproarious conversation that was present in the courtroom.
"Maybe if you woke up earlier, I wouldn't have to save you any," the Breton girl enunciated in a mocking tone.
Sebastien sighed, "can't be missing my beauty sleep, now, can I, Elain?"
"You, beautiful?!" Elain burst out laughing, slamming one hand on the table. "Saint Charlamagne, now that's a beautiful man."
"I wish I had a partner," Hadvar slightly sighed.
"Just date Stesha." Gwendal grinned.
"Shut up Gwendal." Stesha gave him the finger.
"We've all never even dated any girls." Hadvar angrily put his face against his fist.
"There's no girls in your village besides Stesha's sister, idiot," Gwendal pointed out.
Stesha was trying to focus on spooning his porridge. "And Demelza."
"Oh yeah?" Hadvar sniffed. "What's your excuse then Mister Wayrest."
Gwendal hid a blush. "I am simply too good for the women of this city."
Gods save us. Stesha swallowed a glop of porridge.
Thankfully however, the Queen of Wayrest, Lyra Barynia, began making her routine morning announcements, saving Stesha from Hadvar's pining and Gwendal's jokes. "Welcome attendees, residents, members, and subjects of Wayrest's grand and royal court."
Stesha didn't listen much to the aging lady's speech, his curiosity was much more piqued by the Queen's new adviser, Hroct Ecgþeow. The old, buff, and bald Nord glowered at everyone in the hall, like he was imagining different ways to slice them all open, just using his fork and knife.
"Caveman," Gwendal muttered in regards to Hroct.
"These people incessantly bicker about politics and pretend they're making a difference," Stesha whispered with an eyeroll to top it off.
Hadvar shook his head and listened back into the fierce debate that was erupting at the table. Stesha groaned, remembering he was not permitted to leave until the debate was over, which would take at least another two hours. Throwing a glance back at his porridge proved there wouldn't be much to distract himself with either.
Sebastien crossed his arms and huffed, "why we are even discussing this truly baffles me."
"Calm down boy," Hroct warned from his seat near the Queen.
"Don't tell me to calm down!" Sebastien screeched, not unlike a banshee, at the royal advisor.
Half an hour of debate must've passed before Stesha nodded off. In his dreams, none other than the crow-masked man awaited him…
"Hello again."
~Q~Q~
Auxiliary Info: The plan is to start out with your typical medieval style low fantasy here in High Rock then gradually jump into high fantasy in Skyrim. Listen to some music, I've curated a playlist on Spotify called The Old Kingdom by Blesse. - So, in this version of Tes, Lorkhan is dead-dead, Alduin was never born, and a superman Dragonborn type character named Charlamagne Guice is the ninth divine and Martin and Uriel are his descendants and he's the founder of the Empire. So Martin Septim is Martin Guice here. Coins are also called Guice. Charlamagne Guice is replacing Talos here.