The Dawnsplitter Legend

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Blitzz

A Friendly Brit
The Dawnsplitter Legend is a fan-fiction (my first one, try to be nice? :p) about a group of lowlife bandits in Skyrim, that yearn for more. They hear of an ancient tale passed on for generations, a tale that speaks of a flagship from an old Yokudan fleet, a floating fortress, teeming with the riches of the lost continent. It was the centerpiece of the ancient Yokudan fleet, but it disappeared overnight before the fleet reached Hammerfell, taking the millions of gold's worth of treasures with it. Whoever finds it would be revered, the glory and wealth would be unimaginable. However, no-one had ever been fool enough to try, and so the legend vanished from Tamriel, recorded only in encoded tomes lost to the ages. It stayed that way for hundreds of years, before a hopeful group of fame-seekers stumble across an unimaginable secret.

Characters:

Kah-Jusaad - The leader figure in the group, a very tall, slight and dark-skinned Argonian with a fiery temper and great ambitions.

Zarajev - A small and witty Argonian with pale skin and small horns. Like a little brother to Kah-Jusaad, thought of as second in command.

Ki'Raas - A muscular Khajiit with dark brown fur and lots of scars, a fairly old and wise member of the group, and a very well respected one.

Zaahrjii - A large female Khajiit with a silver tongue and lots of cunning, the only one that really seems to threaten Kah-Jusaad's position with her persuasive prowess.

Skelrr - A headstrong, teenage Nord woman, with brunette hair. A loud and brash member with little experience.

Diroch - An average-sized Bosmer man, a dull and remarkably intelligent man, who seems to be the best in the group at holding on to their coin.

Jarrik - A very tall and muscular Redguard man, and a true pirate through and through. He has the greatest sense of adventure among them and spends a lot of time thinking of ways to get rich quick.

S'aden - A Redguard woman, a tall but slim beauty with dark skin, hair and eyes, a very naive, gullible and sensitive member of the group.

This is the eight-man group that our story will focus on, and the story may hold a few new additions as it progresses.

Any feedback will be most appreciated, both positive and negative. Normally my creative writing receives good feedback but this is the first time I've ever written a fan-fiction, so cut me some slack. None of the chapters will be particularly long, 2000 words or so, but there will be 13 of them in total.
 

Blitzz

A Friendly Brit
Chapter One - Forgotten Knowledge

Fresh blood oozed into Kah-Jusaad's mouth as the squirming salmon drew its last breath. He grunted in appreciation, slowly picking apart the fish with his fangs. It was juicy and surprisingly warm. Specks of red fell from his mouth and into the surface of the water below. He had come a long way east for this. He couldn't pull it off on an empty stomach. He finished off the fish, letting its remnants fall to the soggy dirt below. He was knelt at the water's edge, a small distance east of the lighthouse in Dawnstar. A Thalmor ship was due to pass through soon, and Kah-Jusaad fully intended to take advantage of the opportunity. He swished his dark, scaly hand through the icy waters, watching the ripples as they fanned out and then vanished. The water glistened on the surface, and the moonlight danced on the small waves. Grunting, Kah-Jusaad stood to his full height, and turned around to see Skelrr observing him expectantly."Well?" she said in an unimpressed tone. She was staying hushed. She adjusted herself and began to move the shoulder strap on her studded armor from side to side. "Well what?" Kah-Jusaad's voice carried an air of authority, his deep growling tone demanded respect. "You said they'd be here soon," she said crossing her arms. She raised one eyebrow. Kah-Jusaad shook his head slowly, looking at the ground. Ki'Raas piped up from a nearby tree stump, "This one thinks you should be more patient. No man ever became rich overnight." Like Kah-Jusaad, Ki'Raas' speech demanded respect. "They will arrive when they arrive, young one. We will know when they have come, Zaahrjii and S'aden have never set a foot wrong on this sort of job." He stared her back to her perch on a rounded rock. They were shielded from sight in a small clearing, surrounded with shrubbery and vegetation. Diroch was gathering some sort of herb nearby, and Zarajev and Jarrik had stayed at the cave.

Zaahrjii sighed loudly. The lighthouse fire was not enough to keep her warm in the harsh north of Skyrim. She was curled up next to the roaring beacon, on a platform at the top of the lighthouse. S'aden was looking out into the waters, waiting for the first signs of the ship. The flames set her back ablaze in a wondrous display of shadow and light. The lighthouse stood like a sentinel over the sea, guiding in ships every month. Zaahrjii finally broke the silence. "This one is freezing her fur off here. Is the Lizard sure that the ship will even show?"

"Be patient, Zaahrjii. I don't like the cold any more than you do. All we have to do is wait, and follow Kah's orders. We guide the ship onto a nearby shoal, then swoop in and take what we want."

"That Lizard will get us all killed one day. This one thinks we have misplaced our trust. This one thinks we need a new leader." She snickered. S'aden did not reply, but instead continued to flick her deep green eyes over the horizon, waiting for the first sign of a Thalmor ship. She was devoted to Kah-Jusaad. He had saved her, and now he was like a big brother to her. Just as she began to think up a somewhat venomous response, a golden strip began to break the horizon's dark outline. It was a Thalmor flag. "Zaahrjii." S'aden began to move the sliding stone screen, angling the flames in the direction of the shoal. Zaahrjii stood and began to help her. Soon, the light was in the right direction, and the two women began to watch the show unfold.

Diroch began sprinting as soon as the lights shifted. His frame allowed him to slide between the bushes silently as he approached the clearing. Kah-Jusaad had already boarded the rowboat hidden amongst the reeds, and Ki'Raas was climbing in. Skelrr was still on her rock. He checked his quiver to make sure it was still in place, and then jumped aboard, grabbing the starboard oar. In an attempt to seem like a rescue party, they donned normal clothing, and all carried torches. The trio rowed quickly, leaving Skelrr on the shore to make sure they had a safe place to land. If she got caught, a second boat was nearby.

The shoal was covered in snow. A sailor lay face down in the water, his skin as pale as the moon above. "Hello!" Kah-Jusaad called out. The three jumped out onto the shoal. "Is anyone there? We saw the crash! We came to help!" They approached the boat, hoping that the crash would have killed them all and made their job easy. "Help! Help me!" Screamed an Altmer man. Ki'Raas shuddered when he saw another sailor, impaled on the port side railing with a large splinter of wood going all the way through his head and out the other side. They leaped over the railings simultaneously and saw a Thalmor soldier spread on the floor, most of the skin flayed from his face. The door to the lower decks was smashed in, and this appeared to be where the shouts were coming from.

Kah-Jusaad and Diroch went below deck, drawing daggers, as Ki'Raas began to search the upper deck for valuables, with very little success. The golden Thalmor flag was tattered and the mast had fallen onto the shoal, but all of the scattered sacks and crates had nothing but food and pitiful amounts of gold. Below deck, the pair moved seamlessly through the shadows. The hold was flooded, and many of the containers held nothing of value. The ship was appearing to be a massive disappointment. The shouting got louder until they reached the back of the bottom deck, the quarters of an old man in Thalmor robes, with one eye already blinded and the other wounded in the crash, rendering him completely sightless. Diroch ran over and knelt by his side. "Are you okay? What happened?" The man stopped shouting and looked around helplessly, blood staining his golden flesh. Kah-Jusaad began to look through the containers in the room. He found only 43 septims, and an old silver ring. There was, however, a large oak bookshelf stuffed with old, dusty tomes that looked as though they might burst at any minute. "I was reading," said the man, "when we ran aground! I don't know what happened, but I fell on my quill, and now all I see is black!" He began to sob weakly. "What kind of boat is this?" asked Diroch, sounding as curious as he could. "I'm a Thalmor ambassador!" said the man, seemingly offended. "The books in this room come from the Summerset Isles themselves! The books in this room are worth more than this ship!" Diroch was annoyed that the man had not answered his question in any way, but this caught Kah-Jusaad's attention.

He grabbed a crate, and began stuffing in every book he could see. Then he filled a sack, and then another, all full of old-looking books. Diroch spoke to the old man. "There's nothing I can do for your sight, my friend. I apologize." The man began to cry loudly. "I will never read again! I will never uncover the lost knowledge in these tomes! It is my sole purpose! Just end me, please!" Diroch did what was asked of him. He whispered a prayer for the old man, then plunged a dagger deep into his skull, killing him instantly. He collapsed in a heap as blood began to pool around his head. "Come on, we need to go," said Kah-Jusaad. They lugged the crate and sacks through the dimly lit corridors, ignoring the other screams from below as the damned were drowned in the icy waters. Kah-Jusaad spied a book on the top of the pile. His interest was peaked.

Back on the shore, the three women had met up and were awaiting the return of the men. They chatted quietly about past relationships until the trio of raiders landed back ashore. Kah-Jusaad threw the crate to the floor and the women stared in disgust. "What is this?" said Zaahrjii, repulsed. "Where are the jewels? The gold?" Ki'Raas hushed her with a wave of his hands. "These, my friends, are the greatest treasure of all. Knowledge." S'aden laughed, and Skelrr joined her. They loaded the books into smaller sacks and attached them to the saddles of their two horses. Ki'Raas and Skelrr would ride on one, Zaahrjii and S'aden on the other. The books were priceless, and so they would be taken home, to Emberglow Grotto on the north coast west of Solitude. Kah-Jusaad made sure to swipe the book he had been looking at.

When daylight broke, Diroch and Kah-Jusaad were in the inn. Diroch had slept the whole night since they arrived, but Kah-Jusaad had lain awake. The book he had grabbed was encoded, full of swirling symbols and strange dots that seemed to resemble something he had seen once before. He wanted to know what secrets it contained. He studied it rigorously by candlelight, but could not make sense of it. He decided to give up and attempt to catch a few hours of sleep that escaped him due to his foolish personal endeavor. As he closed the book and set it on the table, however, something caught his sharp eye. There, on the cover of the book, scribbled in red ink, was the single word, 'Dawnsplitter'.


 

Blitzz

A Friendly Brit
Chapter Two: Tainted Tongues

The morning had come quickly once Kah-Jusaad finally found sleep. It seemed the moment he shut his eyes in the moonlight-soaked room, he reopened them to beaming sunshine. Diroch was absent, the bed he had rested in left in perfect condition as if the man had never lain there. The tattered cloth sheets were folded perfectly around the frame of the bed and a straw-filled sack acting as a pillow sat at its head. Rubbing his eyes, the Argonian sat up, the world spinning around him as the sudden movement sent fresh blood pumping furiously to every part of his body. Feeling slightly dazed he eventually rose to his feet and exited the room without tidying his bed like Diroch had. The door was heavy oak, crudely carved into a thick slab. At first it refused to budge, but eventually it gave way with a reluctant moan. Downstairs, Diroch was seated at a table with an elderly looking Nord man, talking quietly. The roaring fire from the night before had been reduced to a pile of black dust in the fireplace, an empty and rusted cooking pot hanging above. The night before. The ship. The scholar. The book. And not a septim to his name. He was cursed, he swore by it. Most of the time he would run ships aground, they would be transporting vegetables or herbs, none of which were worth any real money. Now he was in an inn with no money left, having had to barter to afford last night's room.

Kah-Jusaad's strides accross the room were efficient and quiet, drawing no attention. He sat next to Diroch, who looked startled to see him. His bronze skin was mostly covered with long sleeves and leggings. "I didn't expect to see you so early."

"Neither did I," he said with a sigh. "And who's this?" He gestured to the Nord man.

"Hjormund." He spoke for himself, pulling his hood down to reveal grey hair and leathery, wrinkled skin draped over old and chiseled bones. His eyes were light blue, and his mouth was no more than a slit. "I was just talking to your friend here about some interesting books you have."

"Oh?" Kah-Jusaad shot an angry look at Diroch. "You like to read, I assume?"

"I am a collector, good sir. I am always looking out for new books to add to my library. I live in Cyrodiil, you see, in the Imperial City. I own a small library there. I have always been looked down on by Imperial Scholars, but they always come to me for research materials."

"Is there anything in particular you are looking for?"

"Anything really. Anything I don't have. There are thousands of rare tomes and records in Skyrim, sir, and I was hoping you may have been lucky enough to discover some that I may purchase."

Kah-Jusaad and Diroch looked slyly at each other, regretting their decision to send the books back to the Grotto. "I am sorry to say sir, but we have sent the books with some friends back to Solitude. If you are ever there, ask for Kah-Jusaad, and someone should know where I am. But there is one thing I think you would be interested in, if you are willing to wait here for a minute?"

"Of course." Kah-Jusaad stood and rushed upstairs into the room and grabbed the book he had been studying, and raced back to the table. He slid across in front of the old man, who promptly opened the cover.

"Oh my. Divines bless you. Do you know what you've found?" Glancing at the page, both men only noticed a mess of odd symbols sprawled out over the page. They both shook their heads. "These symbols are those of Ancient Yokuda, the land the Redguard people of Hammerfell originally hailed from. This book is worth a fortune in the right hands." This caught Kah-Jusaad's attention.

"A fortune, you say? would you happen to be the right hands?"

"Oh, Gods no!" He laughed loudly. "This is far beyond my knowledge. The right hands would be hard to find, but no one will truly take this on until they know the meaning." He stared hard at the open page, littered with swirling symbols and ornate lettering. "The meaning..." he repeated eerily.

"The meaning?" Diroch piped up. He was met with a steely gaze by the old man. Obviously uncomfortable, he switched the topic. "Ancient Yokuda? What's that?"

"Ancient Yokuda was once a great continent off the west coast of Tamriel, where the Redguard folk hailed from. Back when they were the Yokudans, the Redgaurds were constantly at war with rival houses, ravaging the lands. Things began to get much, much worse than they could have anticipated. A string of natural disasters, from flooding to earthquakes, ravaged the continent, destroying their way of life. Cities were reduced to dust, whole armies gone in seconds. It got too bad to handle, and they were forced to leave their homeland. They watched from their ships as the land they had once called home was literally sucked asunder by the tides, and Yokuda remains buried at sea to this day." He sighed. "The Redgaurds made their way east and settled in the deserts of Hammerfell, a similar environment to their homeland. They changed their way of life and became a new people, resenting the gods they had once revered, the ones many thought had forsaken them. Others thought it was their own doing. No one really knows for sure. Anyway, the Yokudans bought with them great treasures, and this book his a relic of the long-lost civilization. Not many remain who could decipher its meaning."

"I see."

"Do you, sir?"

"It would seem I don't."

"No, you don't. The Yokudans were an evil, war hungry people. Many believe they once worshiped the Daedra, some believe they had one for a king. what remains of their culture suggests heavy relations with sorcery, necromancy, and worse. Some rumors of cannibalism and lycanthropy have solid foundations in the relics we have found. The Yokudans were a people touched by darkness. This book is written in a tainted tongue."

"I see. You wouldn't happen to know anyone who might be able to help us with this, do you?"

"I do. There are a few in Skyrim. There is a Dunmer man in Winterhold, with almost no hair blood red eyes, who knows a fair deal about this subject. An old Redguard shaman named Ro'ral in Falkreath. Lastly, a young woman in Markarth. Stunningly beautiful and deceivingly intelligent. She is a Dwemer scholar and a Thane in the Jarl's court there. Her name... what was it... it began with an M, I believe."

Kah-Jusaad looked at Diroch, and Diroch to Kah-Jusaad. Neither knew exactly what was going on. They both nodded. "Thank you for your time, friend. If ever you need a favor, you know where to find me." He stood and walked away from the table, to gather his things from their room. Once collected, he found Diroch outside.

"This is a mistake."

"What?"

"You know what."

"What else do we have? You heard the man, there's a fortune in this for us."

"We could go back to what we normally do."

"Grounding ships and slaughtering innocents for a few septims?"

"That's better than losing your life, Kah."

"Is it? What's the point in having a life if you do nothing with it?" Diroch sighed, knowing better than to argue with the stubborn Argonian.

"So where are we headed?"

"Markarth."
 

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