Private Conquer With Fire II

Marek recoiled as the massive dragon fell from the sky, smashing into the ground and sending the snow billowing around the group of recruits. Almost immediately a growling voice of immense power reverberated through the air, "Drem Yol Lok, Sons of Sword! I greet you, to the Throat of the World!" The creature was obviously speaking to them but his tone didn't strike Marek as hostile. It wasn't about to attack them. The revelation was surprising but Marek worked through it quickly and decided that it made perfect sense. How else would the Greybeards, humans, have become such experts in the way of the Voice, which came from the dragons.

However it seemed that not everyone had the same train of thought. One of the recruits, a man in plate armor with a full face helmet hefted his axe and charged towards the dragon with a wild warcry. Marek dropped the vial from his gauntlet into his gloved hand and was just about to raise his hand and throw it at the man but decided against it. A few of the others looked like they too were chewing over whether to join his charge or do something to stop him. The blond woman with the crossbow took aim on the back of the man but didn't fire. Instead she yelled, "Stay your hand!" Despite her words, Marek swore that her hand tightened on the trigger momentarily.

Marek stepped forward swiftly and placed his hand on her weapon, exerting just enough pressure to guide her aim down and away from their fellow recruit. She gave him a quizzical look and shrugged off his hand but before she took aim again, Marek shook his head, "Wait. They must have expected something like this. He'll be fine..." He raised an eyebrow, "Or dead." He added quietly.

The dragon hit the stone and snow in a roar, shaking the ground beneath the two companion’s feet and blowing the frozen dust into the air. They were both shocked by the beast that stood before them, so much so, that while it seemed it was speaking, neither heard any noise. Only the echoes of the beast’s call. It took Talion a moment to recover from this brief moment of shock, turning to his companion to check her expression. Tauriel shared the same response, eyes wide and weapon drawn. However, the uneasy feeling that had now encompassed them, kept them from jumping into offense. The beast, a scale covered creature that was fabled to hate all of man, had been totally passive in it’s arrival, and continued to be in front of all the recruits. Then, after minutes of deliberation, the two had come to the realization that this creature, was the Greybeard’s fabled leader. It had made sense too. Who better to teach the language of Dragons to Man, than a Dragon itself?

There deep thought about their current situation was interrupted by the screaming of a man, readied with an axe in hand. Talion knew it was likely that one or more of those who had accompanied there travel would have different thoughts than his own. Before he had any time to think, Talion let out a roar of anger and ferocity, one that shrouded out the sounds around him. Sinking his sword into the dirt next to him, he then charged towards the man, stopping in front of him, and raising a stiff arm to stop his charge. This did not deter the man however, as he attempted to run through it, he was greeted by strength of a stone wall, and plummeted to the ground. His face colored red in embarrassment and frustration, as he attempted to stand, shaky as he did so.

“He is not our enemy,” Talion spoke loud and clear, glaring at the man below him, as he reached for the man’s collar. With little effort, Talion stood the man up and nodded at him in apology. “Sorry about… that,” he spoke in apology. The smaller man grunted and quickly turned himself back towards the group. Talion followed slowly, returning to his position next to Tauriel, who’s face had a slight grin.

“Didn’t scratch ya, did he?” she let out a small chuckle, and nodded at him in response. Talion looked down at her hands, which now held a bow and notched arrow. He looked back to her, “didn’t want you to hurt him or anything.” They both grinned, looking to the others, who’s attention had turned back to the winged beast in front of them.

As the group reached the top of the mountain, a great deal of events took place right before Isaac's eyes. Isaac only stood there as a dragon circled around the group and landed before them. The blast of wind from it's wings knocking down his hood, exposing his face to the terrible cold that surrounded him. However, Isaac's mind was far too busy to put the cloth back over his head.

A dragon had just landed before the group. It was a dragon. Was this some kind of test, that the leader of the greybeards had set up? See if the group could even fight a dragon, let alone take down the whole horde of them.

Then things got even weirder. The dragon spoke.

"Drem Yol Lok, Sons of Sword! I greet you, to the Throat of the World!" It's voice boomed into Isaacs ears.

This vicious creature was talking to them, and it wasn't some weird battle cry. Bandit's tended to do that a lot, let out some weird noise or taunt before they charged you. Isaac always thought it was weird. Then he heard one. A battle cry came out from the group of people, as an armored man dashed toward the beast.

By now everything was starting to click in Isaac's head. The dragon wasn't some trick by the head greybeard. It was the head greybeard. How else did the old guys learn that language than an actual dragon?

"Stay your hand!" A woman said. It was the girl who had made a comment on the rings of a man around Isaac's age.

"Wait. They must have expected something like this. He'll be fine..." Another man said as he pushed the woman's weapon aside. Isaac felt bad he didn't know anyone's name. Although, he assumed he would find them out sometime before they started fighting beside each other.

The charging man was soon interrupted by a large man. Isaac knew who this man's name was, or his alias rather. He was the bear, and that small companion beside him was the bird. On the walk up the mountain it had clicked in his mind. A man on the boat Isaac was on used to tell stories about them, everyone thought they were myths though.

“He is not our enemy,” He said.

Yeah, I got that when you stopped an armored man from attacking him. Isaac thought to himself. Then he began to wonder how the man knew the dragon was a guy. Isaac didn't even know dragon's had a gender. Although, he wasn't so sure how much it would enjoy being called "it".

Isaac decided to think of the dragon only as a she until it's gender was revealed to him. He did this purely on the concept that one might call him sexist for doing otherwise.

Ships are she's and dragons are usually on the figureheads of ships, so why wouldn't it be a she? He thought to himself.

Indari's finger tightened ever so slightly upon her crossbow. She was loath to shoot the charging man but no-one seemed to be doing anything else to stop him. The Dragon stood there, waiting patiently, not trying to defend itself at all, which only confirmed Indari's first impressions to be true. Then there was a gentle pressure on her crossbow and a man was beside her. Indari quickly glanced at him, angry that he touched her weapon and tried to aim again but he shook his head and spoke calmly to her.

"Wait. They must have expected something like this. He'll be fine..." He raised an eyebrow, "Or dead." He added quietly. Indari looked forward and slowly lowered her weapon.

"The fool" she sneered at the charging man, just as another giant of a man roared and stepped in front of him. He held out his arm and the steel-clad warrior ran into it, knocking him backwards into the snow. If it all hadn't of happened so quickly it would have been comical.

"He is not our enemy!" The giant man roared loud and clear, presumably for anyone else who had any similar foolhardy ideas. Indari took her fingers off her bow's trigger, but kept it out ready all the same. The steel clad man scrambled to his feet with the other's help and rejoined the group, as did the one who had stopped him. Indari stole a quick glance to the man who had stopped her from firing her weapon.

"Thank you" she said. Under a different circumstance she would not have thanked someone for interfering with her shot, but this time, it was warranted.

Later that day, one of Orien's patrols encountered the Jarl who had abandoned the hold. He was hiding inside of a cave, afraid to wander out of the hold due to both the Forsworn and the Dominion. So the patrol picked him up, and brought him back to the city, were Orien, instead of Executing him, pressed him into service with the others. He had two guards posted on him at all times to make sure he didn't escape. The former Jarl was put to work almost Immediately after he arrived, helping to build the fortifications. He had an extra incentive to help, because now he was stuck here, and his life depended on how well the fortifications were built. Orien had chuckled trying to watch the Jarl, who had probably never done even the tiniest amount of labor in his life, attempt to build up the breastworks. As the day got later, Orien organized a patrol. Leaving Lod in charge of the city, he decided to lead the patrol himself. The group, six in all, mounted up on horses, and left through the western gate, trotting down the road. Along the way, they encountered a few deer, which instantly scattered upon their approach, and one bear, which practically ignored them as they walked by.
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As night began to descend, they turned, and started back towards the direction of the city. Orien lit a torch, and held it in his left hand as he rode on. Suddenly, his horse reared up, and fell over onto the ground. Orien pulled himself from out under the horse, and pulled out his mace. His shield was still tied to his horses saddle. He bent down to check on the horse, and found an arrow in her chest. Orien set down his mace for a second, and pulled out the arrow, and his eyes grew wide inside his helmet. 'They couldn't be this close...' He thought to himself.

"To arms!" Orien yelled out, tossing the arrow onto the ground, and picking up his mace. Almost immediately after he did, a wild war cry sounded from the nearby dark forest, and out of no where, a forsworn warrior charged out, heading straight at Orien. Thinking quickly, the Imperial Legate threw his torch at the mad man charging at him. The torch impacted, and set the Forsworn male on fire. The man kept charging forward, but had dropped his weapon, and his yell had turned into more of a scream, as he tried to bat out the flames. Orien swung his mace upwards, and caught the man in the jaw. There was a sickening crunch, and the sound of bones breaking, and the Forsworn warrior almost did a back flip from the force of the blow. His fellow warriors situated themselves on their horses as he walked back to his now dead horse. Swinging his mace in an arc, he used the blades on the top of his weapon to slice the string that held his shield in place. As he picked it up, noises started sounding from the forest. The noises sounded like bird chirps. Suddenly, there were wails and shouts from what seemed like all around them, and then they appeared. About twenty Forsworn warriors ran out of the forest, heading straight at Orien. An arrow whizzed past his head, and struck one of the charging Forsworn in the throat, and he went down in a gurgling heap. Next, the warriors on Horseback rode past him, and entered into the Forsworn ranks, a few were able to scatter, but most got caught under the trampling of the horses and the swinging blades of the warriors riding the horses.

Five remained, and Orien charged at them as they were recovering behind the horses. Raising his shield, and putting his full force behind it, he bull dozed over two of the remaining Forsworn, knocking them to the sides. He then bashed the third one with his shield, throwing him off balance, and swung his mace in an overhand arc, bringing the weapon smashing down into the top of the man's skull, and he fell over, dead instantly. By this time, the two behind him were starting to recover. Orien quickly engaged the next man in front of him, who was standing still stunned by the brutality of the assault. Orien bashed him in the face with his shield, and then swung his mace sideways, bringing it into the side of the Forsworn, who's ribs broke upon impact. The blades on the mace dug in and Orien made a quick sawing motion back and forth, before pulling the mace back out with a sickening suction sound. As the Forsworn he had just killed fell over, the man in front of him recovered finally. Orien blocked a stab with the mans sword with his shield, and swing his mace sideways, but the guy jumped backwards, out of the way. By this time, the two Forsworn behind him had recovered, and turned, preparing to charge him. As the man he was engaging brought his sword in an overhand arc, Orien battered out with his shield, catching the man's sword and hand with the lash. The man dropped the sword, and started to reach for his hand. Orien heard footsteps behind him, so he swung his mace upwards, catching the man full in the face. An arrow from his men swooped by him, and he heard a gurgling noise, but he still heard footsteps as well. Swing himself in a 180 degree turn, with his mace extended, he caught the final Forsworn male straight in the neck. The flanges of the mace dug deep into the mans neck, and combined with the force of the blow, severed his spinal column. The man's head fell down to Orien's left, and the body collapsed to his right, a trail of blood squirting out. Orien stood up to his full height, breathing somewhat heavy, but feeling like he could go on for hours if he needed, too. As the realization dawned on him that there could be more, he let out a blood curdling yell. All of the bird chips and noises from the forest stopped. Then twigs began to snap, and a jumbled mess of footsteps were heard running away from the immediate area. Orien sighed, and hooked his mace back on his belt. A young male on horseback came over to Orien, and offered his hand to him. Orien accepted, and got up behind him, on the back of his horse. The horse couldn't run as fast, but it could certainly trot. So Trot they did, the whole group, staying on alert all the way back to the city.
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It was the middle of the night now. Orien stormed up into his Command Post in Lod's house. Terin, his second in command, had just returned from the trip with the Refugees. Orien had almost literally picked him up, and carried him back to the CP. Once they entered into the building, he kicked the door closed behind him. Lod gave Orien a queer look.
"We ran into a patrol. And not a small one either, it was pretty large. I estimate we killed at least fifteen, maybe twenty, but it sounded like there were more in the woods. They were probing us, Terin. Seeing how we fought. I didn't realize they were so close." He said, lifting off his helmet, and slamming it down onto the table, next to the map, which jumped into the air a bit before settling back on the surface. Terin looked at him, a hint of fear in his eyes.
"They must have a large force on the way if they can spare almost twenty men like that. Especially since they were just probing us." He stated to Orien. Orien nodded his head in agreement. Lod walked up to the table, and rested his hands on it. "So what do we do now, Legate?" the Blacksmith asked. Orien sat down in a chair, and pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking. It was about eighty men and women against an unknown force. Out of that group, only forty have had actual military training and combat experience. They were definitely going to need some help.
"We have to hold out until Fela returns, hopefully with our reinforcements. She should have arrived at High Hrothgar by now. If she hasn't, that either means she is running late, or..." He didn't finish the sentence. Terin and Lod both new what he was thinking. "Get some rest you two. I am going out to double the guard up top. Maybe I will join them out there." Orien said. Not even waiting for a reply, he picked up his helmet, and walked out. Putting his helmet back on, he called out for a doubling of the guards, and then went up to the West Wall, and joined them.

"An odd bunch of people the Sons of Sword are," Indari was directing the comment at him and about the new people who just joined them. He really didn't pay attention at this point. He was just focused on getting up the damned mountain, "Yes, yes they are. What would that make us?" He laughed as they continued on towards the top of the heavenly snow covered tip.

A dragon; the mountain hermits' leader was a flying lizard that can talk. Why was this not surprising? The group had finally made their way up to the top of the mountain. The wind was picking up around them and so was the chatter. Some were intrigued, some were confused, and some were fearful. An armored man rushed at the dragon, glowing with magic buffing him, like it was going to help against dragon fire. Mance wasn't going to waste with with a fool. Indari on the other hand raised her crossbow and pointed it at the man, "Stay your hand!"

"You don't have to tell me twice," he simply stood back while the fool rushed forward. Right then another man stayed her hand for the same reason, "Wait. They must have expected something like this. He'll be fine....Or dead," This was a man of few words, and the words that left his mouth were well picked ones. Mance's blonde companion continued to look, then lowered her weapon away from the armored man, "The fool. Thank you" She thanked the quiet man before looking at the new mountain standing in the armored fools way.

"He is not our enemy!" A tall human mountain stood in the front of the man, making him stop dead in his tracks. "I was kind of hoping he would have die." He fiddled with his rings while waiting to see if the situation got uglier.

It was a long trek up the mountain, but the peak was a sight to see.

It wasn’t soon after taking in all of the sweetness and the exuberant air that there was a repetitive flapping that was followed by a loud thud. Zuriel searched for the source of the noise and his eyes met the exquisite beast. It was a great Dragon, obviously very old and battle worn from scars which were scattered around his body. The Dragon spoke, rising his head for everybody to either listen or for fear.

"Drem Yol Lok, Sons of Sword! I greet you, to the Throat of the World!" breathing in slowly.

There was one that seemed to have rushed off in pure ecstasy, it was the character covered in his worn and seemingly brittle armour. He had unsheathed his Axe and rushed towards the Dragon, who himself just stood still as if it wasn’t a bother in the world. Zuriel gripped his knife and was about to throw it hard, he would try to hit him with the hilt at least or maybe in his leg but then again he was a fellow son of the Swords and would It be kind to hurt the young boy?

Stay your hand! Somebody shouted at the charging boy but the bigger man he had seen earlier, the giant of a man charged after him like a saber cat after its sweet and harmless prey.

Wait. They must have expected something like this. He'll be fine... somebody else said.

The man seemed like he was crashing into a cushion of muscle, just as deadly as a brick wall.

He is not our enemy, the giant spoke,looking towards the embarrassed boy on the floor, who wouldn’t dare to react.

Zuriel lowered his blade, it wasn’t needed, and waited for the Dragon to continue.

Falco watched with some shock as the dragon landed before them all, speaking to them as if he were friend. He saw one of the recruits rush forth with weapon drawn, and drew his bow, preparing to let fly at the winged lizard before one of them blocked the recruit’s path, sending him to the ground.


He lowered his bow and near shouted his confusion, before the large beast of a man spoke. He claimed this was not the enemy. Falco stood in disbelief at the lumbering oaf. His eyes went back to the dragon itself. Was this man chugging skooma?


Hmm…Well, it looks like a dragon…flies like one… Falco’s brow furrowed as he deduced the situation before him. How the hell was this NOT the enemy?


As he paused to think, he started to put the pieces together. This was their leader. How else would these men learn the ways of a beast without learning from the beast himself…or itself? But that didn't mean Falco had to agree with it, or like it. He started to question if this was truly what he was meant to do. How could he fight against his menace under the command of someone who was just like the ones they were meant to destroy? How could this beast readily betray his kind for the sake of those who would readily kill it just because of what it was?


How could he trust this beast to not be a double agent of sorts? With cities like Morthal now lying in ruins because of creatures like it...


Why should he trust it? What makes this dragon different than any of the others?


He kept his bow drawn, looking to the others as they all laid their attentions on the scaly bastard. With a hefty sigh, he brought it down to his side, growling under his breath. He wouldn't last long against the beast on his own. The other's certainly wouldn't help him, they were delusional, that or too trusting. Against them and this beast, he stood no chance. He had to listen and see what to make of all this. Only then could he decide where to go from there.

He sighed, shaking his head in internal defeat. He had no choice. He had to wait and see.

"You better have a damned good explanation for this." He grumbled out, crossing his arms after sheathing his bow again. "Why the hell are we defending the enemy we're supposedly working so hard to kill?"

After he pulled such an embarrassing stunt, Richard removed his helmet, looking very upset at the current situation. He had short dark hair and looked very young overall. Thankful that no one seemed to realize she aided Richard in his charge, she silently sighed. The atmosphere was very tense, Paarthuurnax showed no signs of emotion, he just breathed in slowly. Dragons don't really have facial expressions, after all, making them vary hard to read.

"Why do you think of me as your enemy, Jul? Have I burned your villages and Krii Hin Fron, killed your kin? Niid, I stayed up on my mountain and watched mortals rise and fall."

There was a hint of sadness to his words. "Boziik, you judge me for the actions of my brethren. I thought you mortals condemned discrimination."

Uriel walked forward, a slight breeze pushing his hair back. "Are you the one that helped the Dragonborn go to Sovengarde? The people in the monastery mentioned a friend from the shadows." he spoke with a calm tone, as if trying to change the subject.

"The Dovahkiin had many helpers, myself included. With his demise, we stand powerless against Alduin. It will take more than you can imagine to truly stop him." Paarthuurnax slowly moved his head around, eyeing each and every recruit.

"I formed the Kulle Se Zahkrii, the Sons of Sword with the intention of defeating Alduin. If you are to become the sons, you must stop at nothing in your journey. Even if that means - following a dragon."

He flapped his wings strongly, flying above the recruits "Go now, Kril Hunne, your long journey awaits." He flew off into the distance, as, one by one, the recruits started walking down the mountain towards High Hrothgar, their thoughts certainly troubled.

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As they approached the courtyard, Oliver was resting against a pillar, looking at them. As they finally assembled in front of him. He started speaking with his usual serious tone. "Well, can't say I expected so many of you to pass the tests."

He showed a half smile as he walked forward a little "Congratulations, you may now call yourself 'Sons of Sword'. The joining ritual will take place soon, and let me say this, it's not like your regular oath. The words you say will matter, you won't just say them to make yourselves feel better."

He sighed at the mixture of reactions "You will have different bedrooms from the refugees, so you can just go on and rest before we commence with the-" his words were suddenly cut short. As a rider galloped to the courtyard. A girl dressed in imperial armor quickly jumped off and ran to Oliver with a package in her hand, most likely a letter. He took out a letter and paused to read it

Dear Oliver,
I have taken command of the city of Falkreath. I was able to move most of the citizens of the hold to the city. I will be asking for Volunteers, and arming them. That being said, Imperial scouts ran into a large body of Forsworn heading our Direction, and I fear, even if we got the whole city to fight, we may still be outmatched. I have dispatched this letter to tell you that I will need more support, if you have anyone to spare. I will be sending the non-combatants across the border into Cyrodiil. Those of us who remain will fight. I don't expect many of them to take the offer to leave due to the fact that, well, they are Nords. By the time you receive this letter, the Forsworn may have already arrived. I guess if you agree to send help, the only way I will know is when you arrive.
Legate Orien Terrik

As he was reading the letter he couldn't help but frown. The moment he finished he signed at Fela to get out of the courtyard as he sent the letter flying in front of his face. "Yol!" he shouted, his words taking the form of a small flame which caught the letter on fire and ultimately destroyed it.

"Change of Plans." he said angrily. "We go to Falkreath." starting to walk down the mountain, the sons following as expected "I need some time to think...don't break the silence" he said as they all marched down on quite a fast pace.

The man encased in steel removed his helmet, a look of distress on his youthful face. The air was thick as everyone stood and waited for the dragon to speak again. It breathed out slowly before it did.

"Why do you think of me as your enemy, Jul? Have I burned your villages and Krii Hin Fron, killed your kin? Niid, I stayed up on my mountain and watched mortals rise and fall." There was a hint of sadness to his words."Boziik, you judge me for the actions of my brethren. I thought you mortals condemned discrimination." One of the men stepped forward and asked about the Dragonborn.

"The Dovahkiin had many helpers, myself included. With his demise, we stand powerless against Alduin. It will take more than you can imagine to truly stop him." Paarthuurnax slowly moved his head around in the semi circle as he spoke, eyeing each recruit individually. When his eyes rested upon Indari her knees shook slightly, but she stood her ground. She stared into the dragon’s fathomless eyes, sinking into the vast pool of time and knowledge that seemed to have no end, like a bottomless pit in the deepest ocean. It all happened in a second but she felt she had been held in thrall for hours, days, years, and then it ended as quickly as it had begun and the dragon’s attention was on to the next in line. Indari wondered if everyone else had a similar reaction to what she had. She shook her head slightly, her hair falling over her eyes and absentmindedly brushed it away.

"I formed the Kulle Se Zahkrii, the Sons of Sword with the intention of defeating Alduin. If you are to become the sons, you must stop at nothing in your journey. Even if that means - following a dragon."

The dragon suddenly spread his wings and Indari felt a pang of sadness. Their meeting with him had been so brief.

"Go now, Kril Hunne, your long journey awaits." He flew off into the distance, as Indari joined the other recruits and started walking down the mountain towards High Hrothgar. She did not speak to anyone, her thoughts keeping her plenty busy. The main one being why, after the death of her village, her father, at the claws of a dragon, did she now trust this one so implicitly?

"Well, can't say I expected so many of you to pass the tests." Then he totally surprised her by giving them a smile, all be it a small one. "Congratulations, you may now call yourself 'Sons of Sword'. The joining ritual will take place soon, and let me say this, it's not like your regular oath. The words you say will matter, you won't just say them to make yourselves feel better." Indari raised her eyebrows, as she was prone to do when she found something odd or worth questioning. The man sighed and continued "You will have different bedrooms from the refugees, so you can just go on and rest before we commence with the-" His words were suddenly cut short when a rider galloped into the courtyard. The horse pulled up quickly and its coat steamed in the frigid air, like it had been ridden hard and long. A female Imperial jumped off the horse and handed over a letter. The man’s brow furrowed into a deeper frown the more he read. Suddenly he thrust the letter before him and destroyed it with a word and a flame. The recruits looked at one another nervously.

"Change of Plans." he said angrily, and started for the Monastery, causing everyone to followed hurriedly."We go to Falkreath. I need some time to think...don't break the silence" he said as they all followed him. Indari was glad to be moving already. She was not one to sit idly by, so welcomed the change of plans, although whatever had been in the letter had angered the man. As she marched down the mountain with the rest of them an odd thought came to her, as they do sometimes. He never even introduced himself....

"Why"I formed the Kulle Se Zahkrii, the Sons of Sword with the intention of defeating Alduin. If you are to become the sons, you must stop at nothing in your journey. Even if that means - following a dragon." do you think of me as your enemy, Jul? Have I burned your villages and Krii Hin Fron, killed your kin? Niid, I stayed up on my mountain and watched mortals rise and fall." The dragon spoke. Isaac kind of thought it was obvious why they attacked him. He was a dragon. Isaac wasn't offended when bandit's all attacked him on sight. He was a sell-sword. It's in your nature.

"Boziik, you judge me for the actions of my brethren. I thought you mortals condemned discrimination." The dragon had once again confused Isaac. He had seen men killed because their cousin was thalmor. Sure, maybe they didn't publicly praise discrimination, but that was all they did, that was life.

Somebody brought up the dragonborn. "The Dovahkiin had many helpers, myself included. With his demise, we stand powerless against Alduin. It will take more than you can imagine to truly stop him." The dragon moved about the group and eventually met eyes with Isaac. Isaac didn't flinch. He just stared back into the old eyes of the dragon. It hadn't made the best first impression on Isaac, but he respected it. Isaac wasn't quick to judge and this wouldn't be any different.

"I formed the Kulle Se Zahkrii, the Sons of Sword with the intention of defeating Alduin. If you are to become the sons, you must stop at nothing in your journey. Even if that means - following a dragon."

The dragon spread it's wings.

"Go now, Kril Hunne, your long journey awaits." The dragons said before it took off into the sky. Isaac almost laughed. He had just walked up this mountain to hear a few minutes of talk from a flying lizard.

As they walked down the mountain Isaac noticed how much his mood had changed. He had gone from ecstatic to be a son of the sword, but now he was almost disappointed in the meeting at the top of the mountain. This wasn't like him, this negativity. Isaac decided it was because of the terrible times and continued his trek down the mountain.

All he heard from the man who had no name was that they were all going to falkreath. Mance was pretty uninterested in all of what had transpired before him. The dragon was hurt that the dumb mortal tried to attack him despite the dragon's restraint. Mance saw both sides, so he decided to just put it out of his mind. All he could think about is getting off this damned mountain. He snickered at the man's comment of not breaking the silence, and turned towards his blonde companion, "He seems to be a tense man. A man who wants his silence unbroken. Are you interested in what we find or don't find in Falkreath? It has to be better than this damned mountain, don't you think?" The group continued down the chilling spiral with as much haste as they ascended up it. Whatever is inn Falkreath must be important, and worth the journey. That's at least how he figured it. Either way they were going, and hopefully they were going to get this event on the road.

Falco looked to the young man as he removed his helm, a look of shame upon him. Falco wanted to tell him he had nothing to be ashamed of.

Or rather that he approved his decision...

Soon, the scaled creature started to speak, much to Falco's surprise.

"Why do you think of me as your enemy, Jul? Have I burned your villages and Krii Hin Fron, killed your kin? Niid, I stayed up on my mountain and watched mortals rise and fall."


So you didn't burn down our homes or kill our families, but you sat by and watched it all happen without lifting a finger, or should I say talon? You're no more innocent than the ones who committed he acts, you scaled worm.

"Boziik, you judge me for the actions of my brethren. I thought you mortals condemned discrimination."

Only when it isn't justified. Any "discrimination" you receive from me is well founded, believe me.

Then someone spoke of the dragonborn, and the dragon's self-righteous droning continued.

"The Dovahkiin had many helpers, myself included. With his demise, we stand powerless against Alduin. It will take more than you can imagine to truly stop him." He paused to eye them all, seeing the dragon notice the bitter resentment in FAlco's eyes, before it continued to look upon then all. "I formed the Kulle Se Zahkrii, the Sons of Sword withtche intention of defeating Alduin. If you are to become the sons, you must stop at nothing in your journey. Even if that means - following a dragon."

Falco felt the sting of he statement come from the dragon, as he began to depart. Falco started to reflect on his choices, as the dragon continued.

"Go now, Kril Hunne, your long journey awaits." He flew off, and Falco spit on the ground.

"Good riddance." He said to himself, looking upon the others.

---

The man who had spoken to them before their test was waiting for them as they all arrived from their meeting with their...mysterious leader.... Falco continued to reconsider his choice to come here as the man spoke.

"Well, can't say I expected so many of you to pass the tests. Congratulations, you may now call yourself 'Sons of Sword'. The joining ritual will take place soon, and let me say this, it's not like your regular oath. The words you say will matter, you won't just say them to make yourselves feel better." Falco's ears perked at that, his curiosity sparking at the thought. Just what would make this so different?

"You will have different bedrooms from the refugees, so you can just go on and rest before we commence with the-" The man stopped short as a rider made their way to him, looking worn and beaten from the long trek she surely traveled. She dismounted, handing the man a letter. Judging from the look on his face, the news he had received wasn't good. HE then took the letter and lit it aflame, with a word. Not magic, but a spoken word. Everyone looked to each other in a mix of surprise and fear. Falco almost envied the man.

"Change of Plans." He spoke harshly, making his way to the monastery while the new recruits followed after him quickly. "We go to Falkreath. I need some time to think...don't break the silence" he said as they all followed him.

Falco's mind flitted about all over the place as he scrambled to make sense of everything. The two most important that vied for his atttention?

Now that he knew the secret behind this new group that stood to defeat the dragons, was he able to cast aside his hatred for a moment to work with one?

Second...What the hells was in that letter?