A Tale of Two Siblings - Part ONE: Skirmishes

• Posted by Duyts February 28, 2012 - 911 views

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  Greetings. My name is Tobias. I am a Nord that works as a guard in Solitude, the capital of Skyrim. Most days, my work is rather dull and repetitive; standing in one place for hours or, if I’m lucky, walking in circles, but it pays well. I grew up during the Great War. I remember the stories that would drift back to us from the battlefront, where my father served the Legion. I remember the day that the Thalmor Embassy was built just up the mountain from the city. I remember the first time I ever saw an Admeri, strutting through the streets of Solitude as if he owned it. I was only a child back then; naïve and innocent. I didn’t understand what the strange looking man was there for. But even before that, I remember the day that a soldier arrived at my front door and told my mother that my father had died in battle. She had tried to keep the news of his death from my sister and I. She didn’t want to upset us. We eventually found out of course. I’ve never hated anything or anyone more than the Thalmor since then. If not for those damnable elves, my father would still be alive. I plan to leave this gods-forsaken city one day and join the Stormcloaks, as my sister did two years ago, but our mother is growing old and can’t live on her own. I will remain here and keep watch over her for now…

  

  I must say, I think I look good in my uniform.

  Enough of the deep and personal things, though. You’re not reading this to hear me rant and rave about the Altmer. Or maybe you are? I don’t know. Maybe I’ll get back to that later. For now, though, let me tell you about something that happened to me the other day: A group of bandits attacked the city. It was a rather fruitless and stupid effort on their parts, but it supplied some form of entertainment for me. That day, I had a standing post, the kind where you stand in place for hours. It’s killer on the knees and ankles. I had been standing like a statue next to the Winking Skeever for about two hours when I heard banging on the iron gates to the city. Pulling my sword, I motioned for another guard (his name was Lucian) to come with me. Together, we walked towards the gates and yelled out to the guards that were posted on the other side. “Everything alright out there?” I asked. No reply came for some time. Just as we were about to open the gates and see what was happening, there was a loud thud. Preparing ourselves for something, we jump when the doors fly open and seven bandits rush in, their blades already bloody from the fight with the guards outside.

  

  It never ceases to amaze me when civilians rush into the heat of battle when their homes are threatened... That's me fighting the bandit in the center.

  I call out to our comrades to come assist us, but am unable to get the words out before I have to raise my shield to block an incoming attack. I quickly cut down the bare-chested, fur-armored bandit and yell out once more for back-up. I hear a groan to my left as Lucian is stabbed in the stomach and falls to the ground. Just as the bandits are converging on me, an arrow flies out of nowhere and strikes down one of them. The remaining five bandits are all shocked by the sudden death of their ally that they all stop and look towards the source of the arrow. I take advantage of the opportunity to club the nearest to me in the head with the pommel of my sword before running another through the chest. Suddenly, the entrance to the city is filled with guards, bandits, and even civilians wielding iron daggers. Within seconds, we snuff out the attackers and take a step back to look at our work. In all, seven bandits, two guards, and a civilian (the town beggar who tried to lend his dagger to the fray) lay dead, with Lucian close to bleeding out on the stone. We quickly take Lucian to the Temple of the Divines to be healed while we take the fallen guards to the Hall of the Dead to be prepared for burial. As for the bandits, we drag their bodies down to the port nearby and dump them in the water. Good riddance to bad trash, I say…
  

  Basically... Solitude 1, Enemies 0

  
  

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  So I hear that you’ve met my brother, Lucian. You like him? He’s alright. Well, while he’s trapped in that hell hole of a city, I’m out here fighting for the Father Land. I am a member of the Stormcloak army. My brother and I decided two years ago that our efforts were best spent fighting our father's murderers, but we couldn't both leave our mother with her as old as she is, so Tobias and I said our goodbyes for a while and I left for Windhelm while he stayed in Solitude as a guard. I’ve been involved in more than my fair share of skirmishes (short, small-scale battles), and even helped to take a fort or two from the Legion. However, while I love fighting for my country, I miss my family in Solitude. I wish nothing more than for this bloody conflict to end so that I can once again enjoy a bottle of mead with my brother. But that’s going to have to wait for a while. For now, I have to fight off these milk drinkers.

  

  It may be a rough life out here, but at least we have all the meat you could want!

  You know; those Imperials never even let us rest. Just the other day, I was making some hoarker stew for myself and some of my comrades. It was a great stew too. Just the right amount of salt and garlic. I can’t even get halfway through the meal when I hear a cry from the hill nearby. “Imperials! Everyone arm up!” Sighing and taking one last spoonful of the stew, I grab my axe and helmet from the ground next to me and jog over to the Nord who had sent out the call. There, at the bottom of the hill, I see a small group of Legionaries. Putting my hide helmet on and getting a firm grip on my waraxe, I stare down at the enemy soldiers as they stare right back up at us. Suddenly, they split down the middle and reveal an archer that had been hiding behind them. He fires a single arrow that speeds up at us. The tip of the projectile missed my head by mere inches. Stunned for a second, I take a second to recover before standing up straight, raising my axe over my head, and shouting out “For Skyrim!” As a whole, all of the Stormcloaks rushed down the hill towards our aggressors. Time seemed to be running in slow motion while we ran. The few seconds it took us to cover the ground between us and the Imperials seemed to take minutes. Finally, we clash.

  

  As you can probably tell, this soldier didn't last much longer.

  There is a clash of steel on steel, steel on iron, and steel on hide as we all hack and slash at eachother. I fell one enemy soldier and turn to fight another, but am shocked when I see the general of the Legionaries with his sword raised and already coming down to cut me in half. It’s also at this point that I realize I’ve left my shield in my tent. Just as I become convinced that I will go to Sovngarde this day, an arrow comes out of nowhere and strikes the legate in his sword arm, causing him to flinch and drop his weapon. I raise my axe and bring it down on his head.

  

  Imperials. It doesn't matter how many you kill, there's always one that's stupid enough to keep fighting.

  The skirmish didn’t last long, only a few minutes. When everyone eventually relaxed and look around, we witnessed an earth stained with the blood of both our friends and enemies. There had been eleven Imperials; all of which now lay dead. Along with those, there were four corpses wearing the colors of the Stormcloaks. Taking a second to catch our breath, we gather up the remains of our comrades and pile them on a small row of sticks and small logs. We take turns wishing them a safe passage to the afterlife, then cremate the bodies. We stood there for a long while and watched the smoke rise and engulf our fallen. After several minutes, we turn away from the fire and drag the bodies of the Imperials into the nearby woods, dumping the bodies to be found by wolves or bears…