Hello. :)
Like I mentioned...brain likes to jump between projects. Gonna try a different approach, since when I just focus on one and want to finish it before doing stuff with it - I never finish it. Looks like writing that diploma thesis switched something.
So I decided to try just get stuff out. Sadly, that means no regular updates. But maybe there will be more of all of them overall, since writing fanfiction does help me with breaking art blocks.
Another Skyrim one then - this one is in a different universe than The First - don't excpect to see Bernadette or Miraak here. (There is another one that might appear and be in the same universe, we'll see).
I always liked the Companion twins, and I always loved Reachmen. I do hate how they treat them in game(s), though. Markarth in ESO was first partially decent stuff with them, not just "oh, they are just enemies to kill through." So here is a mix of both - Companions and Reachlings.
Rating M as usual, nothing horrifying, just want to be safe.
Hope you enjoy! :)
XXX
4E 184, somewhere in the Reach
Hrakni's arm shot up.
Vilkas stopped in his tracks and looked at the older man. The Companion put a finger to his lips and then pointed with the other hand.
Vilkas followed with his gaze.
It took him a while to find what Hrakni wanted him to see. When he finally did, his eyes widened.
There was a great cat drinking from a stream. It blended with the rocks strangely well, given its spotted fur coat was a mix of white, grey and pale blond colours. It was smaller than a sabre cat, but still very large. Slimmer in build, though sturdy enough to survive the mountains, with a long tail and thick coat of fur.
It lifted its head, alert and looking for danger. Its ears and onyx eyes surveyed the terrain thoroughly.
The cat must have felt disturbed, because soon it disappeared among the rocks and juniper trees.
Hrakni breathed out and then grinned at Vilkas. "We got lucky, boy."
"Why? I bet you could kill it."
The Companion went to inspect the place where the cat had been standing. "Maybe. These cats are trickier than sabre cats, you know?"
"What cat was it anyway?" Vilkas wanted to know, his curiosity piqued. It was true that he had never seen a feline like that one, and he had made a habit of knowing the animals and various creatures in the world around him.
"A very rare one," Hrakni crouched by the stream and looked at a paw print left in the soft mud. "Wrothgarian leopard."
"Wrothgarian leopard?"
Hrakni flashed a smile. "You got something wrong with your ears, boy? Ye. The Reachmen call them Ghosts of the Mountains. These kitties are hard to see, and even harder to kill. Some of the tribes living in Wrothgarians and Western Reach value their pelts almost as sacred. Whoever gets to wear that pelt, must be blessed by spirits." He got up. "Or favoured by Malacath. Also, when you see the cat, it is a good omen from the spirits."
Vilkas ignored the last part. "Not Eastern Reach?"
"They usually don't come here, I heard. Never seen one here myself before today."
As they resumed their journey, Vilkas couldn't help but ask: "How come you know so much about Reachmen?"
"I had some friends among them."
"Really? Aren't they…"
Hrakni looked at him with disapproval. "Aren't they what? Barbaric? Brutal? Reclusive?" He harrumphed. "Remember this, pup. It is always better to form your own opinion than to blindly follow others. And to do that, you need to find out things on your own. Did you know the alchemist back in Markarth is a Reachwoman?"
Vilkas was silent.
Hrakni continued. "Yes, it is difficult to befriend them. But it can be done." He checked their surroundings and chose a different path. "You need to find a tribe that is more open to strangers, though. Otherwise you could easily end up as food for briar trees."
XXX
"So...those are not friendly Reachmen, I gather?" Vilkas whispered. He and Hrakni sat perched on a cliff overlooking a secluded valley. It had been rebuilt into a small redoubt, heavily fortified.
"Yea. I think these are the Forsworn. Who else would steal some darned trinket from a Silver-blood."
Hrakni surveyed the redoubt thoroughly. "This one seems like some sort of holy place. Definitely not living space. Too few people, too many warriors. No kids."
"And all the animal heads and bones placed around?"
"The painted rocks, more like," Hrakni pointed out several of the taller standing stones scattered through the valley. There indeed was paint on them, faded from the elements.
A lot of it were unknown symbols, but there was one piece that appeared every so often. On the largest of rocks, an antlered figure was depicted, along with decorative swirls.
"Is that some god?" Vilkas pointed those out.
Hrakni looked. "Red Eagle, I'd guess. The Forsworn venerate him more than others." He scratched his beard. "That means the warriors keeping this place are not to be trifled with."
"And the item?"
"Probably inside. A shrine or something." Hrakni looked at Vilkas expectantly. "So what do you propose? This is your mission after all."
Vilkas surveyed the area. "We learn their movement patterns. Get inside quietly, kill the guardian of the shrine, if there is any, get the item and get out."
XXX
Vilkas and Hrakni managed to climb over a cracked wall of the small redoubt. Using the intel they gathered during the day, they slipped past and managed to enter the main shrine without being seen.
Not very honorable according to how the old heroes were portrayed, but Vilkas was not stupid. Honor alone meant nothing if you died.
The inside of the shrine was circular, rich with carvings on the stone walls. Colourful banners hung from the ceiling and in the center, a large stone stood, painted with the image of the Red Eagle.
Top of the rock was adorned with many antlers and an elk skull. Strings of colourful beads hung down from the antlers, adorned by feathers at the end of each string. Some of them reached all the way down to stones put into a circle around the central rock. Various offerings rested there. Among them - an intricate necklace made of carved wood and bone.
The item.
It was a beautiful piece of work, but still, Vilkas couldn't get why it was so important to both the Forsworn and the Silver-Blood family.
Not his concern anyway.
As he grabbed the necklace, a tall, muscular figure appeared on the other side of the rock. Antlered, bare chested.
A glowing briar flower sat in a grisly cavity in the man's chest.
Vilkas fastened the necklace to his belt and leapt to his feet.
The Briarheart silently drew two swords with a dull orange glow on the blades. He struck.
The blade was so fast Vilkas couldn't do anything but dodge. He felt the blade slipping on his helmet, and immediately after an uncomfortable heat.
Gritting his teeth he reached out and grabbed the briarheart's wrist. He used all his weight to shift the man around.
An axe chopped into the man's neck with an awful wet sound.
Hrakni tore his weapon out and swung again. The briarheart stopped struggling only after his head hit the ground.
"Foul magic," the older man spat. "Let's get out of here, boy. Quick."
XXX
It was already late. Once on the top of the wall, a hideous beast stormed out of the shrine after them. In the moonlight it looked vaguely human in shape, but...so many things were wrong.
It screeched. As it did, it pointed a long clawed finger at them.
Vilkas' eyes widened at the sight of a tiny sparkle of orange light at the tip of it. He grabbed Hrakni and threw them both down the wall.
As they painfully landed on their backs, a loud explosion shook the wall behind them. Roaring flames flew up to the sky.
As they collected themselves and ran, Vilkas readied his shield.
They heard the twang of bows.
Few arrows swished by.
Ssssssssssssst.
A flash of red.
Boom! A giant ball of fire exploded too close to them. The forcewave of the explosion threw them off their feet, slamming them on the jagged rocks in the valley.
Vilkas grunted as the rocks tore his thigh.
Nonetheless, he got up and continued running alongside Hrakni.
The archers couldn't hit them in the darkness. The greatest danger was that thing throwing fire at them.
The next fireball exploded far enough to not hinder them. Hurried steps followed after them, though, as well as light of flickering torches.
Just make it outside of the valley. Plenty of spots to hide and pick some of the enemies off one by one.
Just make it outside the valley.
Almost there.
Hope started surging in his heart.
Then voices called out from the darkness in front of them. They spoke in an unknown language, the distinct lilt of Reach natives evident in their speech.
Vilkas moved his shield forward. He slammed into someone the next moment.
Everything turned to a blurr. Aggravated voices resounding from everywhere. Distant screeching voice of that monster. The shine of his blade, reflecting the moonlight as it danced around. Hrakni's battle roar. His ragged breaths. The beating of his heart.
He felt Hrakni pulling him up somewhere. They managed to fight their way up the cliffs, to the escape passage. Both of them panting and bleeding, they didn't dare to waste any time. The raging Forsworn pursued hot on their heels.
Vilkas yelped. The pain in his arm forced him to let go of a tree he was holding onto. He felt his feet slipping. He dropped down.
His vision went white.
It returned to normal in a moment. Hrakni slid down, standing in front of him, his axe ready.
Vilkas tried to stand up, but when he put weight on his right arm, he grunted in pain again. Forcing his eyes to focus, he noticed a nasty arrow tip sticking out of his flesh. Cursing, he dropped his shield and scraped back to his feet. Drawing his sword with his left hand, he looked at Hrakni.
It was bad. The Forsworn knew this, and they surrounded them silently. For now, they didn't attack, but the archers in the band had arrows nocked on their bows.
Soon the Forsworn parted. The weird creature walked through, looking at the two Nords.
It looked like a bizarre mix of a woman and a bird. Or rather...she?
She had a wicked smile on her hideous face.
"We have visitors," she croaked. "Just in time for a feast. Why don't you stay?" She spoke common tameric, but her words sounded strange. "Such pretty eyes," she reached her clawed hand to Vilkas' face.
He swung his blade, cutting into her forearm. She screeched and swung with her other hand. As her claws tore through his armor and abdomen, the Forsworn attacked.
He tried backing away from the creature, his hand holding the sword shaking.
She cocked her head like a bird.
With another swipe of her claws she disarmed him and slammed him to the ground.
He groaned and tried to get up, but his blood was already pooling around him. He huffed as a heavy clawed foot landed on his head and forced it down.
The claws turned his head in such an angle that he had a great view of the Forsworn swarming Hrakni and slowly cutting him down, piece by piece. The old man killed a number of them too, but as he kept losing blood, more and more strikes landed on him.
A large antlered warrior struck the last blow, his sword tearing through Hrakni's neck brutally.
Vilkas could hear Hrakni's last bubbling gasps for breath.
The claws moved away from his neck, only to turn him on his back. The hideous bird hag stared at him, a cruel smile on her thin lips.
She raised her foot.
A flash of light fur appeared and a large body slammed into the hag. Vilkas gasped. He tried feeling around for his sword. But he couldn't focus and his consciousness was slipping away due to blood loss. He succumbed to the darkness with dying voices echoing in the background.
XXX
His eyelids slowly lifted.
He couldn't see much, the place was gloomy. But warm.
Where was he? He was lying close to the ground, but not that much to be cold. And the "bed" was not too hard. Covered in furs...he reached for the blanket covering him. Thick and woolen. As he became more and more awake, all sorts of aches flared up all over his body. Abdomen, thigh, arm…
He looked down at his wrist. It was heavily bandaged, but clean. He found the same sight after lifting his shirt. Though it wasn't his shirt, this one was clearly of Reach make, simple in style and colour, but warm and nicely decorated with knotted embroidery.
What had happened? He could recall, vaguely, the bloody fight. Hrakni's death… and then...a cat?
He pulled himself to a sitting position and gripped his head, also bandaged. It was all fuzzy and melting into itself. On one side there was blood and cackling and claws. Sensations of pain and coldness melded into that. On the edges, vaguely, he could recall the soft smell of grass and fresh dirt, as well as unknown voices speaking foreign words.
He allowed himself a moment of confusion, fear and pain.
Then he slowly pulled himself up to his feet and went to look around. He found a full water bottle. While sipping water slowly, he went outside of what he found out to be a cave.
To the left of the entrance, under a juniper tree, he spotted a grave.
Hrakni's.
His axe was laid over the small mound and his leather bracelet lay on top of it.
Vilkas sat down by the grave, his eyes empty. He let the wind play with his hair and the sun warm his skin, and he let his heart be hollow.
Then he picked Hrakni's bracelet and put it on his wrist.
XXX
His saviours left him with clothes, some supplies and the cursed necklace they went to get from the Forsworn. His weapons and armor were also in the cave, but upon closer inspection he found the breastplate damaged beyond repair.
Taking the rest, he set out.
Going by the landmarks he memorised on their way there, he slowly made his way forward.
XXX
Shit. He spent the night curled under a bush, thankful for the wool blanket, but when he woke up, the world was obscured by thick mist.
And the best idea he had was to push on.
The mists have long since lifted, but he didn't recognize the places around him.
Exhausted and aching, he lowered himself into the grass and rested his head in his hands.
He must have fallen asleep, because he suddenly jolted awake with fright. There was something rustling in the bushes close by.
Vilkas gritted his teeth and shakily drew his sword.
Time slowed to a crawl.
Several heartbeats passed.
The leaves rustled once more. An elegant pale shadow slipped out of them.
His breath stopped.
It was the leopard again.
He was as good as dead.
But instead of attacking, the large cat tilted its head and looked at him calmly with those onyx eyes.
Also, when you see the cat, it is a good omen from the spirits.
That's what Hrakni had said. Maybe there indeed was something special about this one?
He couldn't keep the blade up. His fingers let go and his arm fell to his side along the blade. The cat took a few steps forward.
Its paws were huge.
Then he realised it was making concerned noises. Its ears were up as well as the tail.
It looked at him and made the noise again. Then approached a bit closer.
He watched it in a daze.
The cat inched step by step all the way to him. Its head was now so close he could easily touch it, had he had the strength. It stretched its neck, sniffing his face. Its warm breath ruffled his hair.
The cat mrrrow-ed again and gently nudged him. It kept nudging him for so long, at times making frustrated noises, until he finally understood it wanted him to lean on it and continue the journey back.
He did. In the end, he grabbed on to the long soft fur and let the cat pull him up. It let him lean on its back and walked slowly, making sure he was alright and following.
He had to huff in amusement. The leopard seemed more intent on his survival than he himself did.
XXX
He didn't remember much of the journey. The leopard guided him, watched over him and even brought him food. He had no energy to question the weird behaviour, so he didn't. Somehow, over the span of many days, they made it to Markarth. The leopard brought him as far as it could, and then watched him until he disappeared from its sight.
Thanks to the cat's care, he was feeling better and was able to deliver the necklace to the man.
"Ha! You actually did it! I was starting to lose hope," the noble exclaimed once he noticed the necklace hanging on Vilkas' belt as a servant brought him in. "Where's the other one?"
"Dead," Vilkas grabbed the necklace, but didn't hand it over yet. "What's this thing? Was it worth it?"
"You don't need to know. Your guild already got half the payment and now you will get the rest. That's all you're here for," the noble frowned.
Vilkas' fingers tightened around the wooden beads.
His anger must have been visible in his face, because the guards stepped forward and put their hands on their weapons.
"Is there a problem?" the noble cocked an eyebrow, challenge in his eyes.
"No," Vilkas softened his grip after a moment. He gave the necklace to a servant waiting for it on the side. The woman brought the necklace to the noble, who, after a short inspection, smiled. He produced a coin pouch from inside his coat and threw it on the ground.
"Your pay."
Vilkas put on a stony, expressionless face. He picked the pouch, carefully went over the amount, then nodded to the noble, turned on his heel and marched out.
He kept a stiff posture all the way to the stables. The sight of horses finally allowed him to loosen, going as far as leaning on a stone pillar. He breathed out. So tired.
"Do you need something?" a voice came from behind him.
"Are the horses from Jorrvaskr still here?" Vilkas answered without looking.
"No. They were sent back to Whiterun as per the agreement."
This caught his attention. "Has it been that long?"
"Some time over two and half weeks, Companion," the stable hand answered.
Vilkas sighed. The original plan had been a week, slip in and out. But it all had to go wrong…
"Thank you, I'll be off," he peeled himself off of the pillar. He wasn't up to riding anyway. And divines damn him, he was not about to spend another night in this cursed land.
"Where do you want to go?" the carriage driver asked. "I'm taking these goods to Windhelm, so you can pick from places en route."
"Whiterun," Vilkas placed coins in the man's hand.