"Damn provincial! A plague upon you for polluting our city!" the drunken, enraged Nord shouted, shoving the petite, vertically challenged Dunmer out of his way as he marched towards the hearth at the center of the room. He wobbled around drunkenly as he turned to face the now attentive crowd. "We shouldn't have to put up with their stench in our city!" he groused, hoisting his tankard above his head. The crowd murmured, and the few mer in the room started to slink out, clearly seeing where he was going with his impromptu, alcohol inspired speech. "We should kick those milk drinking elves and elf lovers out of Skyrim forever!" he shouted, to the acclaim of the other, equally drunk Nords. The Nord started walking around the room, clapping his fellows on the back, and glaring at the few Imperials, Bretons, and Redguards who he ran into. I flipped my hood up, hoping to escape his notice as I sipped on my Colovian Brandy.
"What do we have here?" He belched, his tone much more threatening than before. I turned to see him towering over a small Breton woman with dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes. A beauty, to say the least. Too bad that the Nord drunkard was so drunk he couldn't tell that. "See, here half breed, this is a Nord city. That means you are not welcome here!" To her credit, she did not flinch, and if anything, stared back harder, setting one of her hands on the pommel of her short sword. I stood and moved towards the edge of the ring forming around them. Never a dull moment I suppose.
"I want no trouble with you, Drunkard. But if you want trouble, you have found it." The Nord's eyes bulged, and his arm wound back to hit her, when my hand latched onto his forearm. She probably could have chewed him up and spit him out easily, but there was no need to leave that up to chance.
"I don't think you want to do that, friend," I growled as he glowered at me, surprised at my audacity. The Breton lady, seeing my intervention, slipped away into the crowd. Damn, I was hoping to get her name.
"Who are you to tell me what and what not to do foreigner?!" he yelled into my face, as he ripped his arm from mine and his other fist swung.
I ducked another swing from a drunken brawler. My simple intervention had devolved into a drunken brawl, which I was winning quite single-handedly. Admittedly, the rest probably wouldn't have gotten involved, but when I soundly thrashed their comrade, and broke his arms, they felt as if they needed to reclaim their honor. I smashed a face into the table in front of me. They had been doing anything but that.
"What is the meaning of this?!" I heard a familiar voice yell, full of authority. I bolted upright instantly, leaving the drunkard that was swinging at me to fall clumsily onto his face. I turned to see Ulfric Stormcloak himself striding into the mess that was now the bar, obviously unhappy with this turn of events.
"He started it!" One of the drunkards yelled. "We were just minding our business when suddenly started beating on us!" I spun to the source of the voice, and took a step, fist rising in anger. It was about to fall, when a hand grabbed my wrist.
"That's enough of that, outsider. Come quietly, and this doesn't get difficult for you," the guard ordered gruffly, and I forced myself to relax. There was no use fighting the guards. With a jerk, they lead me into the bitter cold of Skyrim.
"What is your name outsider?" asked Ulfric gruffly. I looked up to him, sitting on his stone throne with a face of anger, but a glint of amusement in his eyes.
"Armel Spellweaver, Jarl."
"Armel... We have met before, have we not?"
"Yes, you were in... much less fortuitous circumstances, to say the least." Ulfric leaned forward, his brow wrinkling in interest.
"Guards, unhand him," he barked. With some hesitation, they let go. "I thought you didn't like my cause. Why show up in my city?"
"You are partially correct. I like your cause, just not your methods. And to your second question, as the saying goes, any port in a storm," I said, absentmindedly rubbing my wrists.
"Fair enough... You know, I could use a man like you in the Stormcloaks. Surviving Helgen took natural skill, skill I wouldn't mind having on my side in this war."
"Thank you for your offer Jarl, but no. I have no wish to get involved in this rebellion, for either side." Ulfric raised a brow, clearly amused by my answer, and hiding his disappointment well.
"Ah, but just by being in Skyrim, you have became part of these events, whether you like it or not." Ulfric raised his hands in concession. "But, as you wish, I will not push the issue. Just make sure you cause no trouble in my city, and we will have no problems. You are free to go." With a slight wave, he dismissed me, before standing and walking away, his advisers angrily whispering to him. I suppose offering me a position was not to their liking. Or they wanted to make an example of me. Either way, I was not going back to the Candlehearth Inn. Testing the goodwill of Ulfric was not on my list of things to do.
"I'm sorry Sera, we don't have Colovian Brandy. I would recommend the Sujamma in its place. Only three gold for the bottle!" I nodded in consent and quickly the Dunmer barkeep placed the bottle next to me, along with a small, stylized glass. I poured a glass and took a swig of the dark liquid. It went down like fire, but in a pleasant way. Another drink for my small list. I poured another glass as a small, hooded figure sat next to me.
"Enjoying your drink I see," came a familiar voice from beneath the hood. With a pale hand, the hood was brought back to expose the face of the Breton beauty from Candlehearth Hall.
"Yes, quite actually. That was interesting earlier, wasn't it?" I retorted.
"It definitely was. You know, you didn't have to help me. I already had a dagger ready for his throat."
"I supposed you didn't need help, but I couldn't resist lending a helpful hand, and fist, when it came to that bigot. My name is Armel Spellweaver, by the way," I said, holding out my hand. With a smirk, she shook my hand.
"I'm Cendrine, pleased to meet you Armel. So what are you doing in the fine city of Windhelm?"
"I'm just passing through. Hoping to make some gold while I do it," I replied, taking another drink of Sujamma.
"An adventurer huh? I'll tell you what, I am signed on as a guard for a caravan of goods to Dawnstar. If you want, I'll get the Imperial in charge to sign you on as another guard," Cendrine offered. Guarding a caravan... not a very exciting job, but they do pay well, and I do get out of Windhelm, and away from all the bigots...
"If you're willing, sure. I'd be happy to come with you."
"So you are Armel Spellweaver," drawled the caravan leader, Marttis. Cendrine had held up her offer, and now here I stood.
"Yes sir."
"What skills do you have that can help me?"
"I am skilled with Destruction, Restoration, and Alteration magics. I am also a skilled fighter."
"You're in," said Marttis simply, before walking away to handle some other issue. I wonder if he thought I am overqualified?
We soon left Windhelm, and I was acquainted with the other guard along with Cendrine and I, a Khajiit by the name of Do'skar. A talkative Khajiit, he was armored in steel and armed with an axe and shield. His most dangerous weapon, however, was his wagging tongue. The entire time we walked, the Khajiit was telling me a tale, either about him or one of his numerous relatives, some of which I am sure don't exist. Cendrine thought this was immensely amusing, and avoided Do'skar and I, probably hoping to avoid getting her ear talked off as well. Luckily for my ears, we eventually reached the inn we were staying at for the night. Do'skar quickly went and found himself a drink buddy who was more than willing to trade stories with him, poor soul. Marttis disappeared into his room, probably to write some sort of log for his superiors. I, after drinking and laughing with Cendrine and some other patrons of the inn, staggered to my room and collapsed into my bed, falling asleep almost instantly.
"A word of warning to you all. I have word from the innkeeper that a fort ruin we will have to pass through might be home to a bandit clan. Be on guard." Do'skar barely acknowledged the difficulties this would cause for us, before starting up another story. Cendrine and I exchanged a glance. This would be getting interesting.
Soon enough, we could see the fort in the distance, a crumbling ruin of its old self. Do'skar drew his axe, and I mentally prepared myself for the magical destruction I was to soon unleash. Cendrine laid her hand upon the pommel of her short sword, and drew a short, steel dagger. Just outside of bow shot, Marttis stopped the wagon. "I want you all to go ahead and ensure the way is safe. I don't care if you have to bribe them." Slowly, we trudged up to the walls of the fort, only to be greeted by a pair of bowmen. The fort definitely was inhabited.
"Halt! Who goes there?" one shouted. I shifted uneasily, and rubbed the back of my head. Luckily, this time I had backup.
"Travelers, seeking safe passage! Can we come through?" shouted Do'skar coarsely.
"That wagon yours?" the bowman said, indicating Marttis in the distance.
"Yes. We seek to go through your fort. Is this acceptable to you?" Do'skar shouted again.
"A thousand gold and it will be!" the bowman snickered. The Khajiit shook his head, and turned to Cendrine and I.
"We cannot afford that. We must force our way through."
"They surely have backup, you think we can kill them all?" Cendrine whispered.
"We simply have no choice," I shot back, surprising the pair. "Either we pay, or we force the passage. We can't pay." Do'skar and Cendrine nodded grimly. "I'll blast the two of them, and we'll charge. agreed?" they nodded. With a soft sigh, I raised magical barriers around myself. A neat trick I learned from the College.
"So what's your choice?" the bandit shouted down to us. I drew lightning to my palms, the subtle glow alerting his partner. He shifted to point his bow at me, and opened his mouth to shout a warning. Lightning coursed through the air as I unleashed the magics, the bolts crashing into them. The two dropped instantly, but not before they reflexively let their strings go. One arrow sailed wide, but the other did not. With a sudden gurgle, Cendrine collapsed, her had clasped on her neck. I quickly grabbed her as she fell, while Do'skar charged, screaming a battle cry the whole way. The plan was already shot to hell, no pun intended. I laid Cendrine on the ground, blood already making her hood a even deeper black. I tore it away to reveal her entire face, just to freeze. While she was undeniably beautiful, she had a deep scar on the opposite side of her neck, as if a near death experience such as this had happened to her once before. Shaking off my surprise, I quickly applied a healing spell to her neck, before standing again. Any amount of healing wouldn't matter if Do'skar and I died. Cursing, I charged in after the howling Khajiit, the sounds of battle flowing through the gate.
Do'skar had made quick work of the first few bandits, clearly surprised at his charge, their corpses laying mangled in the gateway. He had managed to push all the way up to the battlements, and I could almost hear the bones of the bandits crushing from his blows. I started up the stairs after him, my staff at the ready, when Do'skar's flaming body crashed into the snow next to me, fire still clinging to his armor. I looked up only to narrowly dodge a fireball cast by a very angry Dunmer. With a flick of my wrist, I projected a ward in front of me, just in time to absorb the next fireball, which splattered against it. He drew more flames to his fist, but by then I was too close. With a hiss, he dodged my first, ill aimed jab, before he slipped on the icy stones beneath his feet. The mage fell forward, and right into my waiting, lightning wreathed, hand. He convulsed as the energy flowed through him, before I let his smoking corpse fall into the snow bank beneath me. I whirled around, ward up, expecting an arrow, only to be met by nothing. The fort was empty. We had won.
I walked back to where Cendrine laid, barely supporting Do'skar's unconscious bulk. I laid him next to the Breton, who drew a halting breath before going silent again. At least she was alive. I would have plenty of questions for her when she awoke. I waved to Marttis, who quickly brought the wagon up and he helped me load them into the back. I quickly applied another burst of healing magic to the pair, before leading Marttis through the fort, and back onto the open road.
Quite a while later, Cendrine woke up. "What happened?" she managed to croak out, rubbing her neck.
"Well, we got through the fort. Do'skar is badly burned and injured from an angry Dunmer mage, and you almost died from an arrow to the neck. Welcome back to the living, by the way." She grunted, before turning away from me, and began sifting through the bags in the back of the wagon.
"It looks like I owe you two now. Where is my hood?"
"Mangled and soaked with blood back at the ruins." She whirled to me, eyes blazing.
"You left it there?!?" I flinched back at the force of her anger.
"Yes, I left it there. Just like you left all that blood in the snow! Just be thankful that the arrow wasn't any closer, or your body still be out there too!" She shrank back, reality hitting her like an arrow. The wagon returned to silence, it only being broken by the creaking of the wood.
"I'm sorry for snapping at you like that," Cendrine whispered.
"Its okay. I'm sorry about leaving your hood back there."
The last leg of the trip was just as uneventful as the beginning. Before long, we were at the entrance to Dawnstar, and we were safe again. Cendrine and I helped the now conscious Do'skar over to the town healer, who almost fainted at the extent of his injuries. Cendrine and I eventually ended up at the inn, where I, quite exhausted from the amount of spell casting that day, collapsed onto a bed and quickly fell asleep.
I sat in a plaza, alone and tired. I looked up to see the dark face of the Dragon. The Dragon from Helgen. It's maw contorted into what seemed a smile, before it opened and started to glow...
With a start, I bolted up with a gasp, sweat beading my brow. After a few moments, I heard a quiet knock on my door. "Hey! You okay in there? Or was it just a nightmare?" a voice deadpanned. With a lurch, I opened the door to find the innkeeper standing there.
"What do you mean, 'just a nightmare?'" I asked angrily.
"You mean you didn't know? No one in Dawnstar has been getting any peaceful sleep recently. Only nightmares." With a sigh, I slumped into a chair. All by body wanted to do was sleep, but my mind refused. It knew the Dragon was waiting, and my mind was not eager to return to it.
Comments