The Hunted - Story of Irvine

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Katastrophe

King of Tales
Part XIV - More Than a Wolf

It sounds to Ri’saad as though your path is set.” It was still early in the morning and two friends were standing on the edge of their camp, overlooking the planes of Whiterun. Irvine had woken early and sobered up, deciding to stop and tell Ri’saad of all that had happened and all that he planned to do. “It is not for one such as me to judge your actions, but I believe your journey will lead to the answers you seek.” Irvine had told his friend that he planned to head west, back to Rorikstead, where he would turn in the woman at the Bannered Mare. He would then head south, back to Falkreath and collect his old bounty and to see just exactly what the Jarl desired from him. From there, he hoped to head to Windhelm and discover more about why he was under attack from a group of assassins. Ri’saad turned back to Irvine, his expression far more solemn than the Redguard had ever seen it. “Stay off the roads and do not linger, my friend. If word has reached Falkreath, word has reached them. They will be after you and watching the roads as before. You cannot lose them - only put distance.” Irvine nodded and the two exchanged a hearty handshake before Irvine headed off into the planes from the back of their camp.

The trip to Rorikstead proved to be far less eventful then the previous venture. There was a brief instance where the massive shadow of a dragon flew over the landscape and Irvine took over amongst some rocks, but thankfully the beast flew off with a series of roars. Assassins on the roads and the dragons in the wilderness. The hunting had been good, although it primarily consisted of wolves. He came across a pair of dead sabre cats that he didn’t hesitate to skin, but thankfully no living ones were spotted. There had been a skeleton clutching a lockbox containing jewelry but no other living person was spotted for the entire journey and he took that as a good thing. When Rorikstead finally came back into view, he wasn’t surprised to see it almost exactly as how he had left it. It wasn’t until he walked into the Frostfruit Inn and saw the two Alik’r sitting there that Ri’saad’s worst began to set in. Was it right to just turn this woman in based on the word of two men that he had originally seen harassing a woman in the wild? How could he be sure that they weren’t lying? He had taken many lives in the past few days for his own profit, but to sell someone out was too much.

“Have you any news for us, brother?” one asked, leaning forward in his chair to hear what Irvine had to say. He simply shook his head.

“I came only to inform you that I will not be in Whiterun for a few days,” he said, trying his best to sound disappointed. “I didn’t want you sitting around all that time expecting me.” The two warriors turned and shared a disappointed frown before the first looked back, nodding.

“We understand. Thank you for your notice, but we have orders to wait here, should see flee.” With that, the conversation was over and they both turned back to their book and their meal. Irvine turned towards the bar and breathed a sigh of relief before approaching the old man, Mralki. He ordered a meal and started conversation with the old man while it was cooking.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve been here,” he said, not sure exactly where to start. “How is your son, Erik?”

“He’s just fine,” replied Mralki. Irvine had the feeling he sensed where this was going.

“Still dreaming of adventures?” At this, Mralki paused his cooking and came back to the counter, his eyes cold as ever.

“Look, friend, we’ve been over this before: unless you’re willing to prepare Erik for adventure, he stays put. He's asked every passer-by to try and convince me and none have.” With that, Irvine set a large bag of coins on the table and Mralki eyed them with bot eagerness and suspicion.

“In this bag is over 600 gold septims,” Irvine began, pushing the bag a bit closer to Mralki. “You will use this coin to buy equipment for your son from someone in the village, and he will accompany me on my journey back to Falkreath, where I will instruct him. Beyond that, whether to return to to carry on, is his decision. Do we have an agreement?” Mralki considered this for awhile, taking the bag and letting the coins jingle loudly before he finally nodded, agreeing to the terms. While Mralki went out to buy the necessary items, Irvine at his meal in peace. When Mralki returned, he gave the equipment to Irvine who took it out to the fields where Irvine was working.

“Oh, Irvine!” Erik called out, waving energtically and rushing over to him. “It’s been a long time! How have you been?” he asked, then began to eye all of the armor piled in Irvine’s arms. “What’s all this?”

“This is for you,” he said, pushing the equipment on to Erik who stared at the pile with disbelief. “I convinced your father to let you adventure, as you wanted, but under the condition you follow me to Falkreath in order to gain some experience outside of Rorikstead. From there, you can decide what you want to do.” Erik’s excitement was unimaginable and it as all Irvine could do to calm him and direct him to the inn to change and prepare. Awhile later, Erik emerged, glad in iron armor and ready to go, the biggest smile Irvine had ever seen plastered across his face.

“So Falkreath, huh?” Erik asked as they set off down the road. Irvine nodded in response, his eyes scanning the roadside ahead, just in case. He knew he couldn’t yet bring Erik through the wilderness and was taking a risk for them both just by bringing him along but Irvine felt as though he might need his company. If he were being honest with himself, he simply wanted someone to bounce ideas off of as he went. “What’s there in Falkreath?”

“I got a letter from the Jarl the other day,” he began, still focused on the road ahead. “It says he has a job for me, but I’m not sure what it is. I also have a bounty collect from about a week ago.” This last part didn’t seem to settle well with Erik, but he didn’t say anything about it, so Irvine continued. “I need to tell you some things, Erik, because both myself and your father have some concerns about your ability to adapt out here. I want to tell you a story, if that’s alright with you?” Erik nodded, and Irvine continued. “I was raised as a hunter. My father and I spent my whole life living off the land. We weren’t adventurers, by any means. He passed away, and I came to Skyrim.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” said Erik, his eyes fixated on Irvine rather than the road ahead.

“Don’t be,” he continued with a shrug. “I’ve moved on. I’ve moved so far on, in fact, that I’ve realized something - something I don’t think you quite understand.” Irvine had seen something further up the road, but Erik didn’t. He wanted it to stay that way. “The life you’re choosing, that of an adventurer, it’s more difficult then you think. It’s not all travels and heroics - there’s a lot of death and, if you aim to survive, a lot of killing.” Irvine stopped and Erik did too, the two locking eyes. “Do you have what it takes to kill someone, Erik?”

“Alright, drop your valuables!” An Argonian that Irvine had spied hiding in the shadow of a bluff ahead emerged, sword drain. Irvine had thought it was incredibly foolish upon the thief’s part to try and rob two people at the same time, but apparently he didn’t think so. Irvine looked at Erik and found him only shifting his gaze from Irvine to the bandit and then back again. “I won’t ask again! Drop ‘em!”

“Well, Erik?” Irvine asked, motioning to the thief. “Can you?” Mistaking that as his cue, the bandit lunged at Erik, his sword clashing against Erik’s breastplate as he turned, luckily saving his life. The young man stumbled back and Erik raised his arm, the next blow sliding off his bracer. Erik quickly drew his own sword and lunged forward but the lizard leapt to the side, his tail sweeping out to trip the Nord. As Erik fellt face first into the dirt, the image of Irvine became visible to the lizard, bow notched, and then red as his arrow struck the thief in one of his eyes. He let out a blood curdling scream and ripped the arrow out by the shaft, tossing it to the side. The skin around his eye seemed to ooze, the puss crawling into the wound, sealing it. Irvine notched another arrow, casting a glance at Erik who was crawling across his belly to reach his sword. The thief ignored Irvine and quickly ran over, kicking Erik onto his back. He spun his sword round, ready to plunge it into Erik’s head, when Irvine’s second arrow pierced his hand, causing him to drop the sword. Erik grabbed the thief’s sword and plunged it through the Argonian’s chest. He yelled and screamed, thrashing his claws at Erik before his body finally went limp, Erik pushing him aside and scrambling to his feet. He ran off to the side of the road and threw up.

“I’ve never even killed a wolf,” he said, wiping trickles of vomit from his lips with the back of his hand. “I’ve never even killed a wolf.” Irvine came up behind him and patted him on the back gently.

“Come on - we need to keep moving.” After allowing the young man a few more moments to lose his lunch, the two continued, although slowly, down the road. It wasn’t until they had ascended the path that lead through the mountain range that Irvine began to head off the path.

“Where are we going?” Erik asked, standing back on the road. Irvine waved him to follow.

“To see an old friend of mine,” he told him, turning back to continue walking. As they rounded a small hill, a familiar shack came in to view, smoke steadily rising from the fire pit. “Ivy? Are you here?” he called out, walking slowly to allow Erik to keep up. A familiar tan face appeared in the window of the hut, her blonde hair bobbing with her excitement as she ran out, throwing her arms around Irvine.

“Oh, Cub!” she exclaimed, giving him a hug before stepping back to look at him. “Well, you’re not much of a Cub anymore, are you?” She laughed before turning her attention to Erik. “You have a friend now?” She smiled, offering her hand to the young man. “My name’s Ivy, and you are?” Before Erik could reply, Irvine answered for him.

“This is Cabbage,” he said, extending a hand to show he meant Erik. “He’s a farmer turned adventurer.” Ivy laughed, nodding.

“Ah, I see. Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you... Cabbage.” Erik sputtered before giving up, shuffling off to the side. “What brings you back here, Cub?” Irvine paused before unloading his furs and handing them to Erik, pointing to the tanning rack.

“Do me a favor and tan these for their leather, we’ll need them.” Erik nodded and did as he was instructed allowing the two hunters to sit by the far on some chopped tree logs. “I’m here for many reasons, Ivy. The first is Cabbage. He’s a good lad with a fire to travel, but he isn’t ready.”

“I could have told you that,” she replied, disappointed. “Why the hell would you bring him out here then?”

“If I didn’t set him on the road and prepare him myself, he’d do it anyways and would die not ten minutes outside his town.” Ivy turned to watch Erik at the rack, considering what Irvine had said before turning back and nodding. “I also needed the extra sword arm.”

“Why? You’re a capable hunter,” she said, confused. For a moment, he debated whether or not to tell her what was going on but figured she’d pick up on it anyways.

“A few days ago I was attacked by an assassin. She was carrying this,” he produced the assassin’s note and handed it to her. Ivy read it once, twice and her eyes went wide.

“But who-”

“I don’t know,” he said, cutting her off. “I have a well-connected friend who promised to look into it, but I fear it may not be enough, as does he. I need to resolve this on my own.”

“So then why here? Why Falkreath? Why him?” she pointed to Erik who was struggling on the rack, but no one offered any assistance.

“I’m multi-tasking,” he said, shrugging. “I’m showing Cabbage how ill prepared he is, I’m answer the Jarl of Falkreath’s letter, collecting my bounty, and then I’m headed to Windhelm.”

“Windhelm?” she asked, puzzled. “Why the hell would you travel all the way to the heart of the rebellion?”

“I’ve heard of a boy who’s trying to contact the Dark Brotherhood up there,” he said. Judging by her expression, he was obviously losing her. “I plan to set a trap for them and figure this out for myself.” Ivy was silent for a good while, considering his plan. Finally, she shook her head.

“I don’t like it, Cub. It’s dangerous,” she said, reaching over to put a hand on his shoulder.

“So is walking the streets until this is dealt with,” he replied, patting her hand. “That is where I need a favor from you. When I get to Falkreath, I’m going to give Erik some proper equipment and see what the Jarl wants. I want him to take this road back home, to Rorikstead. I want you to follow him and see him there safely.”

“Aye, I can do at least that,” she answered, standing. “Hey Cabbage! Come and eat!” Erik looked up and dropped what he was doing, the three of them preparing a meal of rabbit and wine. When they were done, night was falling and Irvine requested that the two be allowed to stay at Hunter’s Rest for the night, a request that Ivy was more than willing to fulfill. Irvine instructed Erik to continue his work on the leather and when he was finally done, the three settled into bed for the night.
 

Katastrophe

King of Tales
Part XV - Held at Knifepoint

The two were up long before sunrise and, once again, Irvine decided to let Ivy sleep. He trusted her completely to watch over Erik and knew that when she woke up and discovered the two gone, she would be headed off to town to find and follow them as he had requested. Like Ri’saad, Ivy was someone who existed somewhere along the fringe of acceptable society and, for whatever reason, he found that comforting. He found that people like that were often good people at heart for those that treated them well. Ivy would fulfill his request and that gave him comfort, even though the road to Falkreath did not. The sky was dark and woods only darker. A chill had settled into the air, the breeze cooled by it, each gust sending small shivers up Irvine’s spine. The breeze rattled the trees around the path, the shadows cause from this causing Irvine to feel completely exposed. The trees seem to whisper, carrying a message through their branches that told Irvine to go back, that he wasn’t welcome here. That out here, all the horrors of his imagination would be made real. When the rain started, and it was only a small drizzle, the duo had reached the gate to Falkreath, a lone guard standing at the entrance with a torch, nodding as the two entered.

“Come on,” Irvine said, heading towards Lod’s forge. It was early enough that the man was still asleep and Irvine saddled up to the forge with pieces of leather Erik had made earlier. He hoped that Lod wouldn’t mind the two of them using the forge. “I need to show you how to make your equipment.” The two set to work at the forge crafting a set of leather armor not unlike what Irvine had made for himself with Alvor’s help back in Riverwood. After a few hours, Lod came out and greeted Irvine and the two ate while supervising Erik’s work. “Lod, can you keep watch over him for awhile, please? I have business with the Jarl.” Lod nodded and immediately set to work reaming the young Nord for his mistakes, as any teacher should. With that taken care of, and the middle of the day approaching, Irvine headed across the street to the longhouse.

“Who are you?” the Jarl demanded from his throne, almost immediately as the Redguard had entered. As Irvine got closer, the Jarl changed his tune. “Ah, you again. I remember you.”

“My name is Irvine,” he said, tossing two letters onto the Jarl’s lap - one, the bounty letter, and the second was the letter addressed to him. “I’m here to collect on the bounty and answer your summons.” The Jarl snatched the letters and read them over before nodding, summoning his steward over and handed them away.

“Ah, yes, good work,” he said, settling back into his lax position. “My steward will arrange for your payment for the bounty. In the meantime, now we get to see if the rumors about your abilities are true.” He straightened his posture and motioned for Irvine to come closer. “There is a group of bandits in my hold that I have had... discreet dealings with,” he began, and already Irvine did not like where this was going and liked the Jarl even less than he had before, if that were possible. “The cut was good at first, but now it’s time to clean up these loose ends. I want you to go and deal with it.”

“And why should I do a think like that for a person like you?” Irvine asked, and this caused him to lean back in his chair, considering this.

“Because, Irvine,” he said, a smug grin spreading across his face, “I know a lot about you - where you’ve been, what you’ve done... the list goes on. I am also in a position of power where I could put you in prison right now, not to mention some of your friends, for multiple counts of murder and poaching, but I won’t... so long as you do this for me. Are we clear?” Irvine nodded, seeing no other real option. Worst case scenario, this Jarl had some sort of dealing with the Dark Brotherhood as well, and that would not play out in his favor. “Excellent. The bandits are located at Knifepoint Ridge, a camp to the northwest. Kill them all. Spare no one.” Biting his tongue, Irvine nodded and turned, storming out of the longhouse. When Erik saw him, he came bounding out from the forge.

“Are you alright, Irvine?” he asked, but the hunter shrugged him off and instead looked at Lod.

“Keep him working here for the rest of the day - business calls me away,” he said, continuing to walk. Lod nodded and came over, guiding Erik by the arm back to the forge. As Irvine walked through the street, he pulled his helmet back on and grabbed his bow and began sprinting into the woods out of the city’s gate. An aggressive fire burned in him and he didn’t want Erik to become consumed by it. It was a fire that drove him into the woods along the familiar path he had taken on his first day living in Skyrim. It was a fire that drove him to kill every living thing he saw - wolf, rabbit, deer - nothing was safe. As he headed deeper into the woods along a less familiar path, a door loomed in the distance and at this, his temper was finally cooled, the discipline of the hunter taking over, causing him to stop. He pulled out his map and glanced around, realizing he truly had no real idea of where he was going, except northwest. Judging by the mountains, he wagered he wasn’t all that far from Hunter’s Rest, though this tower was unfamiliar. He thought back to the first tower he had explored in this area, how he had found it home to a necromancer, and his fire was rekindled in a new life.

Irvine didn’t even approach the tower with caution. He ran in with his axe and let out a roar he didn’t think himself capable of as he pounced upon the first bandit just as he turned to meet his attacker. Irvine brought his axe to bear upon the bandit’s exposed neck once, twice, three times and the fourth blow severed the man’s head. From somewhere inside the tower, two more bandits stirred and charged out to avenge their fallen, but Irvine was ready to meet them. The first to reach him, a Khajiit, drew his sword and swung to bring it down about the hunter. With a twist of his wrist, he cooked the sword’s blade and twisted it from the bandit’s grasp and brought the hilt of his axe into his nose, blood spraying across his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other bandit taking aim with a bow and Irvine took a quick stride over to the stumbling Khajiit and grabbed him, pull him in front of himself just in time for the bandit’s arrow to strike his partner’s chest. In one motion, Irvine cut the Khajiit’s throat from behind and kicked the bleeding body at the archer who raised his hands to shove his dead friend to the ground just in time to see Irvine close the distance and slit the bandit’s throat with a single swipe.

Panting heavily, Irvine put his axe back on his hip and began looking through the tower. Not surprisingly, there wasn’t much. Inside a locked gate he found a few gold and jewels but aside from this, this looked like a watch tower, not unlike what he had encountered at Bleak Falls Barrow. Was he being sent into a hornet’s nest again? Whether the camp ahead had three bandits or three hundred, Irvine was being used as a tool for a less-than-worthy Jarl, and he didn’t approve. If his life so far had made him into anything, it was his own man. He had lived his entire life doing what he wanted and when he wanted to do it. He would not be made into some mythical champion by one Jarl only to be made into a tool by another. It seemed like no matter what he tried to do, any sort of success he acquired would mean others would want to use him for profit. As Irvine advanced into a clearing, he looked around and spotted what had to be the bandit camp - a large, wooden scaffold built at the top of a hill, accessible by a winding path. He cursed the Jarl before he began stalking towards the hillside. With his luck, the Jarl had warned them of his coming...

The siege of the camp was something of personal legend for Irvine. As he climbed the path, he spotted a single bandit serving as lookout on the scaffolding ahead. A carefully lined up shot, and the bandit was sent reeling backwards from the scaffolding by an single arrow, his body creating a sickening crunch sound as it landed. Wasting no time, he sprinted to the opposite side of the path and silently began to climb the rocks that covered the hillside directly beneath the tower. As he came over the top, a single bandit was examining his fallen companion but no alarm had yet been raised. An arrow to the back saw to that. With two dead bodies lying atop one another, the attention of the entire camp was throughly his. He was able to get off three arrows, dropping three more bandits before the next reached him. He leapt back to avoid the man’s greatsword, throwing the dagger at his waist, striking the bandit in the throat. As he fell, another bandit was already behind him, one hand holding up a magical ward while the other let loose a burst of flames. There was no time to avoid it, and the hunter could only brace himself as the heat of the flames engulfed him. As soon as the flames subsided, Irvine was rushing forward, the tufts of fur along the fringes of his armor still smoking, his axe imbedding itself in the caster’s side a few times until he fell to the ground.

That was when those deeper in the camp emerged: one with a warhammer, another in back with a bow and another magic user. Once more he drew his bow, taking aim past the man with the warhammer and instead letting loose an arrow into one of the caster’s eyes. He wasn’t dead, but he was in a world of pain. As the warhammer wielding bandit closed in, Irvine dropped his bow and drew his axe, leaping back to avoid a crushing blow. The hammer imbedded itself in the soft earth, a cloud of dirt and small rocks cast up around the impact, and Irvine dove through it, tackling the bandit, knocking him onto his back in the dirt. The two trashed in the dirt, exchanging punches before Irvine finally bought himself enough time with a decisive hook to the bandit’s jaw to grab his axe and brick it down into the man’s skull. As Irvine sat up, straddled over the bandit’s lap, the arrow from the archer in the rear dug into his left should, forcing his body to twist and the two shared a glance. In a flash, the axe was out of one bandit’s skull and hurling through the air, striking the archer in the chest. Irvine took his time in standing up and removing the arrow from his shoulder, slowly stalking over to the last dead bandit to retrieve his axe, all the while the last living bandit, the one with an arrow protruding from his left eye socket, twisted in the dirt, screaming hysterically.

“Shut up,” Irvine said, grabbing the man by his collar and picking him up onto his feet. The bandit only fell remotely silent when Irvine slapped him, his screams reduced to whimpers. “Where is your leader?” He got no answers, just more whimpering. Irvine grabbed the arrow with his other hand and gave it a twist and this brought on a new wave of screaming. “Answer me!”

“Inside!” the bandit shrieked, though gave no indication where. Irvine gave the arrow another twist and more screaming pursued until he threw the bandit into the dirt. He walked away to gather his things, leaving the bandit there to whimper for awhile longer. Irvine sat down in the dirt beside the bandit and reached into his bag, pulling out a potion and popping the vial’s lid, pouring it’s healing liquid into the arrow wound on his shoulder, the bandit lying on the ground in front of him howling the entire time. When his wound was healed, he took his dagger and used it to cut the bandit’s throat, putting him out of his misery, and then began inspecting the camp. It was more advanced than he had expected. A trap had been rigged on the initial scaffolding and the bandits even had all they needed for a forge, including a place to brew potions. He had a sneaking suspicion that these pieces of equipment had been curtesy of his Lordship back in Falkreath. The place was full of small tents with bedrolls and barrels and sacks of food. These men had obviously been setting up here for the long haul, but why? At last, Irvine came to the back of the camp - a mine. Suddenly, the bandit’s presence here began to make some sense. Perhaps the Jarl had allowed the bandits to set up their operation here, even funded them a bit, in exchange for using them as workers for the mine. Without thinking about it further, Irvine pressed open the door to the mine and continued down. The mine was small, just a single room. His presence was noticed almost immediately and Irvine simply strode into the room to meet the bandit chief who was leaning with his back against the wall.

“So, old Siddgeir has finally given up, eh?” he called to Irvine, pushing himself off against the wall. “So you’re the one he’s got to do the job now?” Irvine, confused, didn’t say anything but even in the dim light his expression gave him away. “Oh, you didn’t know? His Lord sent another mercenary before you to come and take us out. Poor bastard spent his lies days digging for us.” He jabbed his thumb to the side where an iron gate blocked off part of the mine. “You probably don’t know what’s going on either, do you?” Again, Irvine said nothing. He simply tightened the grip on his axe. “Figures. We had a nice deal worked out with the crooked bastard. We supplied us with what we needed to live out here, we supplied him with some of the iron we dug up. Business was good at first but, this here cave...?” He knocked on the stone column in the center of the room and small bits of rock and dust fell from the ceiling above. “She’s unstable. Cave-ins have shut this place down and now, we figure old Siddgeir doesn’t think we’re worth his investment. Does that sound about right?”

“The Jarl is blackmailing me,” Irvine explained. “I don’t care for you or for him. I just don’t have a choice.” The bandit scoffed, drawing his sword.

“At least the last one was a mercenary who wanted to fight,” he said with a laugh, dropping into a stance. “You're just a puppet!” The bandit lunged forward and it was all Irvine could do to raise his old axe to defend himself against the bandit’s blade. Seeing Irvine’s knees buckled with the blow, a smirk spread across his mouth and he struck again and again and again. He wasn’t even trying to hit Irvine, but rather his weapon. He could see and hear and feel the stress he was putting on both Irvine and his weapon and exposed it. Finally, Irvine pivoted clockwise, dodging the next blow, his arm extended in order to strike the bandit, but it was no good - the bandit had reached over with his left hand and firmly grabbed Irvine’s wrist. Throwing out both his arms, the bandit’s sword slashed across Irvine’s right side and threw him back against the door, a spray of blood coating the mine’s wall. “What did I tell ya, kid?” the bandit asked, laughing. “Poor fool should have known better than to send you.” Irvine pushed himself backwards against the door, his left hand clutching at his bleeding side while his other loosely held the axe up in a feeble attempt at self-defense, but this only made the bandit roar with more laughter. As the bandit raised his sword up, Irvine prepared himself to die until one last thought came to his mind.

“FUS!” The Shout came from his lips far more naturally than it had before and with a force that sent the bandit stumbling back, allowing Irvine enough time to stand up, his shoulder leaning against the cave wall.

“What-what in the hell was that!?” demanded the bandit, staggering to his feet. This time it was Irvine’s turn to laugh, but it came out weak.

“Beats the hell out of me.” The bandit regained his footing and charged the wounded hunter once more. “FUS!” This time the bandit fell backwards, almost back where he had been standing from the start. That’s when Irvine made out the glimmering oil that coated the floor beneath the bandit. With all his remaining strength, he threw his axe at the bowl of flaming coals mounted on a tripod of logs, knocking it over. The coals spilled out onto the oil and ignited, the bandit screaming in agony. Irvine collapsed to the floor, the effort of throwing his axe with his wounded side proving to be too much. He couldn’t move... he tried to stay focused as a darkness began creeping in at the corner’s of his vision. He watched as the bandit leader, still screaming, struggled to stand on the slick and burning oil, only to slip back into the flames. Slowly, the screaming stopped and, shortly after that, everything went black.
 

Therin

Active Member
An interesting chapter. Irvine's anger was surprising; we haven't seen anywhere near as much emotion as we have in this chapter. It adds a new, and dare I say, "darker", aspect to his character.

A couple of questions did pop into my mind as I read this. How did the Jarl know about Irvine's "secrets"? I hope its explained in the future because right now I feel like the Jarl's omniscience is a little OP. The other question I had is, "why is Irvine treating Erik like a ten-year old?" Its been stated that Irvine and Erik are of a similiar age, but with different childhoods. I get that. Erik has been mollycoddled by his father, whereas Irvine's dad has exposed him to...hunting animals since he was young. But was it really necessary to ask the blacksmith to babysit Erik while they were in town? Maybe its just me, but I see Irvine coddling this guy a lot more than his father did. At least Erik was able to walk around Rorikstead on his own. :)
 

Katastrophe

King of Tales
To explain things a little more in-depth, the emotions stem back to his feelings for his father. When you look at the core of what went on there and that resentment, it's partially because his father basically sacrificed his mother, and part that he didn't have any sort of say in the matter. He doesn't like not having some degree of control over his life, something he's gotten quite accustomed to. For the Jarl to use him as he is really pisses him off... but obviously, we'll see him cool down and we'll also see this emotion again, I'm sure.

As far as the Jarl's knowledge, Siddgeir is a powerful and corrupt man who, obviously, has many ties throughout his hold. It's not too much of a stretch to say that he knows at least some of the things that Irvine has done. I'm not sure if I want to make that leap and say that he and Astrid are acquainted, I probably won't, but he does know people... I don't really want to give that up at the moment though.

Hahaha yeah, I am laying it on kind of thick... but when they met, Irvine did say that there was a level of naivety about Erik - that they were roughly the same age, but varied greatly in their maturity. As he says, he pays for Erik to accompany him because he would rather let Erik experience adventure under his supervision and, hopefully, be convinced it's not for him rather than to just wander out on his own. The primary reason he's basically making Erik his errand boy is because he doesn't want to expose him to everything Irvine is involved with: the Dragonborn business, the Dark Brotherhood, the dirty work he does himself. He tells Erik to stay behind because he feels that he would only get in he way and he also is aware that he's emotionally unstable and doesn't want Erik to see that side of him.
 

Katastrophe

King of Tales
Part XVI - Vampires and Dogs

It was dark when Irvine emerged from the mine. He couldn’t tell how long he had been out - the sun had been setting by the time he entered the mine, but it was now long gone. Irvine had lingered inside only long enough to gather a bow hanging from a weapon rack and examine the dead Imperial locked in the cage - his predecessor for the Jarl’s suicide mission. The bow was of an old but durable make, a kind he had never seen before, it’s metal almost golden. As slung it over his shoulder even though he vary much doubted his ability to use it and then began the slow and painful trip out of the mine, one hand still clutched at his side. He had poured a potion into it when he regained consciousness, but it was too deep to be closed so simply. The walk, or rather stumble, back down through the bandit’s camp was a quite. The wind, as oppose to last night, was non-existent now. The air was still and coated with the smell of blood from the bodies he had left. The bandit with his punctured eye and slit throat was still silent, the pool of blood that had collected around his neck and shoulder glistened a sickening shade of crimson in the moonlight. All around him were the dead bodies of men and woman he had killed in cold blood during a rage he barely remembered. The bandit’s leader had been right - he had become, at least in this instance, a tool for the Jarl. Most disappointing of all was the fact that without his strange power to mimic that ancient guardian, he would be dead. That strange power that made Balgruuf push him along the path to the Greybeards, to be his hero, had made him the perfect tool for Siddgeir. As he stumbled down the winding path, her head a commotion coming from the wood’s ahead. He half walked, half fell, against a large rock ahead of him and slinked down into a crouch.

“There they are!” a man cried, and a commotion broke out. Irvine practically crawled across the ground through the shadows, from rock to fallen log to another rock to get a better few. Up ahead, in a small patch of trees, a few torches illuminated the scene. A handful of men were fighting each other, some dressed in Imperial armor, the others in an armor he did not recognize. Surprisingly, all three of the Imperials died and the three others began picking through their bodies for anything of worth. Irvine turned, pressing his back against the rock as another wave of pain surged through his body, a small whimper escaping his lips.

“What was that?” Another man’s voice came, one of the victors. There was a moment of utter silence, the only sound in the air was that of crickets. Somewhere, an owl cried into the night. Then the sound of footsteps, three pairs, moving closer. Irvine thought to get up and run, willed his body to obey his commands, but nothing - the pain was too much. He only tried to press his back further into the rock, hoping the shadows would conceal him, but they didn’t. “Oi! We’ve got another one!” the man cried, drawing a giant axe from his back and raising it to swing.

“Hold, Syljin!” cried another, this one carrying a torch. The first man did as he requested, frozen in place. That giant axe like a headsmen held high, his chest heaving beneath the blue patched armor with tufts of fur. “This one isn’t in uniform.” The third soldier came over now, a female.

“Raylin, look,” she said, pointing her sword at Irvine’s right side where his hand remained clutched. “He’s wounded. He couldn’t have been with them.”

“Where did you come from?” Syljin asked, lowering his axe at last. Irvine tried to answer but the words wouldn’t come. He struggled to raise his right arm, pointing up towards the bandit camp before letting it collapse onto his lap.

“He doesn’t look so good,” said the female, placing a hand on his forehead. Raylin moved his torch down by the wound and examined it. Irvine could see the frown on his face in the torchlight. “What should we do?”

“We can’t take him to Falkreath,” said Syljin, placing the head of his axe on the ground and leaning on the handle. “Damn place is Imperial these days.”

“What about the cabin we saw up north?” Raylin offered, pointing back to a hillside in the distance. He must have been talking about Hunter’s Rest which made Irvine gasp out his agreement. “That settles it. Grab his legs.” Raylin came over and placed his arms underneath Irvine’s shoulders while Syljin grabbed him by the ankles, Raylin passing his torch off to the female who lead the way. Irvine wasn’t surprised to find the cabin empty when they got their, the fire stomped out and food taken. It honesty, it looked like no one had been there for years. He knew better, however. He knew Ivy was out there, somewhere, doing just as he had asked of her. The next few hours were a blur as Irvine slipped in and out of consciousness. The Nords that carried him had laid him to rest on a bedroll, the same one he had been used to sleeping on, nonetheless, and set to work addressing his wounds.

When Irvine finally awoke, the morning was young and the soldiers had gone. They had left a small note saying that his condition was stabilized and they had to be off. There was a little something at the end about joining the Stormcloaks at the end, so that solved the issue of who they had been. He tested his mobility in the safety of the hut for a few minutes before deciding it was good enough to head out. He sling his bow over his shoulder and headed back on the road for Falkreath. The wound, overall, felt much better than it had the previous night. He wasn’t sure what the Stormcloaks had done, but it certainly had done the trick. He wouldn’t be running any marathons soon, but he was certainly better off than he had been before.

“You there,” called an orc as he approached the gate to Falkreath. “Are you alright?” This orc was new, as far as Irvine could tell. He didn’t remember seeing him anywhere in all the time he had spent out in this area.

“I’ll be alright,” Irvine said, placing a hand over his side. The wound was hardly visible now, but the damage to his armor was obvious.

“Do you mind if I asked who, or what, did this to you?” The orc asked, getting a little too close for Irvine’s comfort. There were at least three guards around so it would be suicide if this Orc tried to attack him. “Was it a vampire?” That threw Irvine for a loop.

“No, no,” he said, bewildered. His mind wandered back to Whiterun, the guards hauling away the vampire bodies and complaining about their increased aggressiveness. “Why? Are their vampires in the area?”

“There is a growing vampire threat all over Skyrim,” the Orc said, the air of a well-rehearsed speech thick around his words. “I represent the Dawnguard, a reborn group dedicated to hunting and killing the vampire menace. Interested?”

“I’ve hardly consider the vampires a menace,” Irvine said. He hadn’t really encountered any in the wild, only the handful of dead ones in Whiterun. A group of people dedicated to such a small tasks seemed like overkill.

“Then you’re not paying attention,” he replied, aggravated. “Haven’t you heard that the Hall of the Vigilants was destroyed by them?”

“Hall of Vigilants?” Irvine asked, his memory once again slipped back to the man he met outside Riverwood. “The Vigilants of Stendarr?”

“Aye, that’s them,” the Orc said. “We tried to warn them, but they didn’t take the vampires seriously. They’re only accustomed to daedra worshippers - they weren’t prepared. That’s why our leader, Isran, is reestablishing the Dawnguard. If you’re interested in joining up, head to our fort outside Riften.” With that, the two exchanged goodbyes and the Orc headed back into town, replaced by a guard.

“Have you seen a dog out there?” he asked, his voice not at all concerned.

“No, I haven’t,” Irvine replied. “Just deer, wolves, bandits and necromancers.” The guard was taken back a bit, but ignored the statement.

“That’s a shame. The blacksmith is offering a reward for a dog he saw on the road the other day.” Irvine was surprised that Lod had never mentioned such dog. Perhaps the man had only just found the dog yesterday then, while Irvine was away? Regardless, it was still too early to talk to the Jarl or Lod about anything, so Irvine headed into Dead Man’s Drink.

“Well well, look who’s back!” It was Valga, calling out to him from the bar. “I didn’t think we’d see you again. Glad, though. We were afraid you were dead.”

“Not quite,” Irvine said, laughing. He took a seat down by the table and Valga came over to take his order, that infamous cooked beef and some mead. Narri tried to start conversation with him but he shrugged her off, not interested.

“Friend of yours is in the other room,” she said, bringing him his meal. “He was going on about you to Narri all last night. He’ll be glad to know you’re alright.” Irvine thanked her many times over before digging into his meal with enthusiasm. Just as he was halfway through, Erik came out of his room, sleepy and yawning.

“Oh, Irvine!” he cried, running over to slap the Redguard on the back, causing him to nearly cough up his meal. “You’re back! We were all worried about you!”

“I’m alright,” Irvine replied, motioning to the chair beside him. “Have a seat. We need to have a talk.”

“About what?” Erik asked, taking the aforementioned seat.

“About you, us, this adventuring business,” Irvine began, not taking a break from his meal. “You’re not ready, not for the big time yet. I can see that. I’ve known that. The only reason I gave your father the money was because I figured you’d be better off starting with me than on your own. I want you to return to Rorikstead - you’ll be safe along the road, but be careful regardless. I encourage you to travel the area around Rorikstead and visit Ivy up at the shack when you can - she’ll help you.” Irvine took a big swig of his mead before turning to Erik. “You’re just not ready for this kind of life and, to be honest, I’m not sure I am either. The difference is that you have a father that loves you and a steady and safe, although dull, alternative. Me?” Another swig, a longer swig. “I don’t have that luxury. So you go back and get your feet wet. Don’t dive in just yet.” Erik’s expression was stoic, unsure what to say. For a long time, the two simply stared at each other in silence until finally, Erik nodded.

“Alrght, Irvine,” he said, the disappointment was obvious. “I’ll do as you ask.” He stood up and returned to his room, allowing Irvine to finish his meal. When Erik emerged, his eyes were a bit puffier than when he had gone in, but he had gathered his gear and put on his armor. “I’ll never forget all that you’ve done for me. I hope to one day return the favor.” The two clasped their hands before Irvine turned, watching the young Nord leave the tavern, headed for home under the vigilant eye of Ivy.
 

Assassin99

Active Member
Awesome writing keep it up
 

Katastrophe

King of Tales
Part XVII - Dog Eat Daedra World

With Erik gone and headed back to Rorikstead, Irvine collapsed back into his seat at the inn and placed his helmet on the table, running his hands through the short hair that remained, more than enough on his metaphorical plate. Part of him yearned for the days back before Skyrim, or at least before he had got in his head to try and settle somewhere. He traced it all back to that damnable bounty and those bandits, but then it just exploded. The golden claw, the guardian, the dragons - they had all been compressions on the spring that had launched him where he was today: nearly dead and a tool being used by those with more power than his alone. It wasn’t that Irvine hated having someone guiding him - that has what his father had done, and that had been more or less enjoyable. It was the pure and simple fact that he was being used, his efforts merely stepping stones for someone else’s greater purpose. If he became the hero Balgruuf wanted him and thought him to be, his debt would be to all of Skyrim. At least for now, it was only to one man.

“Something on your mind again?” It was Valga. She had taken the seat beside him and he hadn’t noticed. He turned to her, smiling weakly.

“More than you could possibly imagine.”

“Oh, I could imagine quite a bit,” she said, turning to the table. She grabbed a half-finished bottle of ale and began to sip from it. “You know, as innkeeper, I do here quite a bit. I’ve heard a lot about you, or at least someone like you, as it so happens.”

“Great,” Irvine said, taking a large swig of his mead. “That’s just what I needed to hear.”

“Perhaps it is,” she said, turning to him with a smile. “I hear of a man who rid Riverwood of their bandit problems. I hear of a man who helped slay a dragon just outside Whiterun who, some are saying, could be dragonborn.”

“But you don’t hear of the man who killed those bandits for profit, or of the man who refused the dragonborn’s fate, or of the man now a tool of Siddgeir!” He slammed his fist on the table and the room fell silent, all eyes on him. After a few moments it passed and the joyous music and conversation of the tavern’s patrons returned.

“I hope, at least for your own sake Irvine, that you will understand that things happen for a reason,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “The path you’re on started a long, long time ago. You have a wealth of talents that you’re putting to use. One day, you’ll be in a position to claim the destiny you’re making for yourself as your own, and you will be thankful for all of the opportunities you were given and all the things you’ve had to do because they brought you to that moment.” The two simply stared at each other in silence until someone called for Valga to refill his goblet. She rolled her eyes and gave him a small kiss on the cheek, and she was off. Irvine remained there in silence for a little while longer before grabbing his helmet and making for the door. Regardless of what was going to happen, he had to keep moving forward and that meant returning to Siddgeir.

“You’ve returned?” Siddgeir asked in disbelief at almost the same moment Irvine walked through the door. He coughed and leaned back in his chair. “Oh, I mean... you’ve returned.”

“Don’t act so surprised,” he replied, trying his best to walk without a limp.

“Am I to assume that your missions was actually a success?” Siddgeir asked, obviously skeptical.

“It was,” Irvine answered, realizing he hadn’t thought to bring any proof. “The entire camp is dead, even the Imperial mercenary you sent before me. But I didn’t do that last one.” Siddgeir considered this before waving his hand as if to dismiss the whole thing.

“Excellent. Please accept this small reward,” he said, handing over a rather large pouch of coins. “You know what? I like you. You’re not afraid to get your hands dirty. I shall allow you to purchase property within my hold, if you so choose. Besides, I may have use for you in the future.” As Irvine boiled with rage, he held his tongue as well as his sword and simply turned and left. He had no real desire to live here, especially if it meant having to be the Jarl’s lapdog. No sooner than when he left the longhouse however, did the familiar sound of large, leathery wings come to his ears. He quickly sprinted around to the back of the longhouse and saw, as he had feared, a dragon that seemed intent on burning down the mill, a handful of the hold’s guards already engaging it. There was a sickening drop in Irvine’s stomach, but he was forced to push it aside as he drew his bow.

For what seemed like an eternity, the beast flew over the hold, landing on buildings and setting fires, all the while the band of guards and Irvine chasing after it with arrows and steel. The beast was bold enough to land on the Jarl’s longhouse, but after a volley of arrows it tipped and collapsed into the center of town, wings flailing and teeth chomping. As Irvine and the guards closed in, he spotted a few of the town folk joining in, Lod and the woodchopper among them. Thankfully, when the beast was finally killed, no one had died. As soon as the beast was dead, those involved in the fighting took off to deal with the fires, grabbing buckets where they could find them. Irvine lingered behind, wondering if it would happen again, and it did. The beast once more seemed to burn and erupt from within, the flames lingering in the air awhile before finally colliding and soaking into Irvine in a flash of light.

“What was that?” cried one of the guards, and Irvine cursed silently. As the guard stood in awe, Irvine quickly ran over to Lod who was busy extinguishing a small fire by his forge.

“Lod, I need to sell some things to you, quickly,” Irvine pleaded but, as expected, Lod only replied when the last embers of the fire had been put out. By now, people were beginning to come back and notice the dragon was not simply a pile of bones.

“Oh, Irvine, good to see you,” he answered with a smile. “Have you seen a dog out on the road, by chance?” It took some persuading but Irvine got the man to talk about the dog while the two did business. Irvine agreed to look for the dog, Lod supplying him with some meat to go and lure beast out into the open and lead it back to him. With their business concluded, Irvine quickly headed for the town’s gate to the road in hopes of avoiding any unwanted questions about the location of the dragon’s skin. He hadn’t made it more than a few hundred feet out of the town’s gate than a rather small dog came bounding over to him.

“You’re exactly what I was looking!” The voice seemed to bypass his ears and go straight into his mind, echoing around in his skull. The dog before him cocked it’s head and looked him dead in the eyes. Confused, Irvine looked around and, upon seeing no one, turned back to the dog. “Hey, I’m talking to you!”

“You... you can talk?” Irvine asked, kneeling in front of the dog. Obviously, this whole dragon business coupled with his wound had caused him to go insane.

“Skyrim is now host to giant, flying lizards and two-legged cat-men, and you’re surprised by me?” The dog seemed to grin, and Irvine was confident he was loosing his mind. “Yeah, I just talked, and I’m continuing to do so.” Irvine couldn’t help but let out a faint laugh. “My name is Barbas, and have a problem that I think you, especially you, can help me with.”

“Alright, I’ll humor you and my coming insanity,” Irvine side, smiling. “What can I help a dog with?”

“My master and I had a bit of a falling out, you see,” the dog explained, ignoring Irvine’s comment. “We got into an argument and it got rather... heated. He’s kicked me out until I can find someone to settle our disagreement. That’s where you come in!”

“So your a little, lost puppy then?” Irvine said, an insane grin spreading across his face.

“Ha ha,” the dog said, the dog shaking it’s head back and forth as if to mimic a taunting human. Was he really imagining this, or was it real? “My master is Clavicus Vile, the Daedric prince of wishes. As you can imagine, he’s a very important person.”

“Clavicus Vile?” Irvine asked in disbelief. He was by no means a buff on the daedra, but he knew the names of the princes and what they entailed, at least.

“Did I stutter? Look, are you gonna help me or not?” Irvine was completely unsure what to do. The last thing he wanted to do was to consort with daedra, but at the same time, he did have a desire and it was within Clavicus’ power to grant it... the temptation was too great, and he agreed to help the dog. “Great, now look - ever since he banished me, his power has been weakened. He can’t manifest too far from one of his shrines. I know of a cult that worships him out in a place called Haemar’s Shame. When we get there, I’ll make sure you’re rewarded. Just don’t trust any offer he makes you, okay?” Irvine nodded his agreement, knowing full well that he may have to break that promise, and he followed after Barbas back up a road that lead past Falkreath, a road he had never traveled.

The journey was, as Irvine had unfortunately predicted, wrought with danger. Aside from the stray bandits and spiders along the road, Barbas lead him through the ruined remains of Helgen which had, as he had expected, come under control of a group of bandits. The town had been almost completely demolished, some of it’s ruined remains still burning with ember’s from the dragons fire and here was a group of bandits claiming it as home. It was the perfect target, really - what group of murderers and thieves wouldn’t want their very own town? Whether they had plans to simply use it as a ruined fort for their illicit operations or if they had hoped to renovate it and restore it to it’s former glory, no one would know - Barbas and Irvine killed them all. Had it been up to Irvine, he would have simply gone around the city, but the dog persisted forward, no doubt given some sort of sense of invulnerability due to it being a daedra. Irvine was not, however, as fortunate as his canine companion, nor was he in as good fighting shape. He was more than willing to allow Barbas to run as a distraction, allowing Irvine to sit back in the shadows with his bow and take careful aim at the bandits. Thankfully, the dog only desired to proceed through Helgen until the path was free and clear and, with some careful lockpicking on Irvine’s part, the duo continued on the road.

The rest of the way to the Haemar’s Shame (which turned out to be a cave) was peaceful, but the closer they got, the sicker Irvine began to feel. Shortly after leaving Helgen, snow began to fall. The path Barbas led him down wound in a canyon and, after a fork in the road, became dotted with stone markers on either side. The sides of the mountains grew darker, the snowfall grew thicker and that sickening feeling got deeper and deeper. When the cave finally came into sight, it was just a rather large cave located in a small alcove within the mountainside. Barbas wasted no time in running in and Irvine, taking a deep breath, followed.
 

Assassin99

Active Member
your welcome you are an exetremly talented writer and i have read all your entries that i can find
 

Assassin99

Active Member
go izo:D
 

Assassin99

Active Member
f***ing ADVERTISEMENT
 

Assassin99

Active Member
when will your next post be?
 

Katastrophe

King of Tales
Part XVIII - Vampires and Vile

You might have told me this place had vampires!” Irvine tossed the bandit’s head back to the floor of the wooden scaffolding, his rage turning white hot and aimed at the small dog beside him.

“If I had told you the place was a vampire den, would you have followed me?” asked Barbas, his head cocked to the side.

“Absolutely not!” Irvine answered. He was still coming to grips with the fact that he was talking to a daedra that had taken on a dog’s appearance. The whole thing was just weird.

“Well see, there ya go,” Barbas replied, trotting off down the scaffolding. “Now come on, and keep your voice down. You don’t want to get the whole damn place after you.” The dog had a point and Irvine had to remind himself why he was doing this. If he did this favor for Clavicus Vile, there was a chance Irvine could have his own wish granted and that was too good to pass up. He shrugged and followed after the dog, deeper into the vampire’s lair.

“So... hungry,” the voice came through the cavern is a vicious whisper, not the tone of an actual conversation. Barbas lingered back, allowing Irvine to take point. “Been so long since... I last fed.” It seemed to be traveling along the breeze that drifted through the tight, winding passage until it finally opened. There was a female vampire standing below him, the source of the sinister whispers. “Need more blood...” The arrow that struck her between her shoulder blades sent her sliding a few feet along her face across the snow. This one was not a mere convert, but a full blown vampire, her armor matching that of the one he had seen in Whiterun. Another minor passage and the next cavern proved more difficult - there was a converted vampire, presumably another bandit, sitting at a table and eating from what appeared to be a human ribcage. There was another vampire, this one dressed in the armor, at an alchemy table, brewing the divines only know what.

The passage through the cavern only got more deadly, a few situations forcing Irvine to actually dual with the vampires themselves. Barbas was of little use, often disappearing when the fighting started. It was interesting to see how the dog had charged into battle against the bandits but here, among vampires, he seemed almost afraid. Rightly so, of course. Irvine was also afraid. These undead monsters were far more powerful than he had anticipated. It had nothing to do with any special powers that they possessed - they were simply resiliant. Coupled with their ability to reanimate their fallen friends and each battle Irvine thought to be his last. When he had killed the last of the vampires in a small canyon area, he slumped into the chair at the bottom and seemingly collapsed against the table in exhaustion.

“Hey, you doing okay?” Barbas asked, trotting over by his side. Like any good dog, he rested his head on Irvine’s leg, who promptly brushed the dog away.

“I’m fine,” he lied, pinching the bridge of his nose as he struggled to sit up. “I’m fine. I just need to rest.” The dog nodded, taking a few steps back.

“Rest up,” he said, making for path that led deeper into the cave. “I’m going to check ahead. You follow when you’re ready.” Irvine nodded and Barbas was gone, deeper inside the vampire den. Irvine went back to rubbing his eyes, trying his best to keep conscious. He felt weak, unwilling to move for fear of collapse. This was not, however, the best place to take a breather. He turned around and look out across the bodies of bandits and vampires behind him. Was this going to be the rest of his life? Perhaps he was just feeling exhausted from all of the fighting. Maybe he just needed a vacation, somewhere nice and warm. That thought alone was enough to give Irvine the strength to pick himself up and carry on, following after the daedra dog.

Beyond was a cake walk in comparison to what Irvine had originally faced - only a single vampire and a rather large spider. Inside the main chamber, however, was a statue of Clavicus Vile, the shrine. Here there was another vampire that Barbas was already keeping occupied. Irvine was all too happy to lend his assistance from a safe distance away and, with a few arrows, the vampire finally went down. Barbas ran down to the foot of the statue and turned towards Irvine, barking like mad. Irvine stepped before the statue, but nothing happened. The dog’s head pushed him forward.

“Uhm, Lord Vile, I request a favor,” he began, not entirely too sure what he was doing.

“Oh, of course!” came a voice from the statue, this one not seeming to echo around his head like Barbas’. “Anything for you after you helped me solve the problem of my last worshippers.”

“I did?” Irvine asked, looking around. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“Oh, but of course you did!” Clavicus Vile continued, his voice joyful. “They asked me for a cure to their vampirism, and then you came along and ended their misery! Why, I couldn’t have done it better myself.” For a horrified moment, Irvine felt his stomach drop, his rage boil once more. Had he really been used by Vile this entire time, or was this just a coincidence? Even if it was purely chance, was this how Vile granted wishes - in the most twisted way possible? Of course, what had he expected? Clavicus Vile was a daedric prince, after all. “Now, before I can grant your request, you must do me a favor. Do this, and you’ll have your wish. No strings attached, no messy surprises. Well, at least not for you.”

“And what would you have me do, Lord Vile?” Irvine asked. This deal was getting worse all the time.

“There’s an axe, you see,” he began. In Irvine’s imagination, Clavicus was stroking his chin fondly. “A powerful axe. A very, very powerful axe. An axe that is so powerful, in fact, I could have quite a little bit of fun with it. I want you to retrieve it for me, from a place called Rimerock Burrow. Do that, and we’ll have a deal.”

“Consider it done,” Irvine said, turning on his heel to face Barbas who simply bowed to the statue and then lead Irvine out through a back entrance barred by steel spikes that receded when Barbas bit down and pulled down the chain. “Tell me about this axe, Barbas.”

“One of Clavicus’ little jests,” the dog began, leading Irvine down from the cliffside. There were back on the road before it curved into that wicked canyon. “A wizard named Sebastian Lort had a daughter that worshipped Hircine. When the daughter became a werewolf, Sebastian was driven over the edge. He asked Clavicus for a way to end his daughter’s curse. Clavicus gave him the axe.” Barbas seemed to chuckle slightly, leading Irvine back down the road. Irvine glanced up, watching the last bits of the sun disappear over the mountain top. No sooner had it disappeared did Irvine feel that similar exhaustion, forcing him down to his knees. He clutched at his chest as he fell into a coughing fit, his whole body seeming to ache and turn against him. One final cough and a splatter of blood coated the dirt in front of him. “You sure you’re alright?” Barbas asked, coming back over and examining the mess of a man Irvine had become. “The road to the Burrow is a long, long ways away. Halfway across Skyrim, in fact.” Irvine nodded, struggling to his feet. He ran the back of his hand across his mouth, turning it crimson.

“I’m alright, really,” he lied again. His physical health didn’t matter - he needed to be free of all this business. If anything, this was finally just the stress of the past few days finally catching up to him. He coughed into his hand once more, more blood splattering across his lips. He licked them and smiled, following after Barbas back down the road to the ruins of Helgen.
 

Assassin99

Active Member
Good one:D
 

Katastrophe

King of Tales
Part XIX - Moar Daedra

At the insistence of Barbas, Irvine stopped a little ways down the road to eat and drink - to gather what remaining strength he had left. His feeble attempts at eating were coupled with more coughing fits, although the amount of blood loss was decreasing. When he was finished, he continued to follow Barbas, spitting a crimson wad into the snow as the went on. The snow was coming down harder and thicker now, sheets of white rolling across the hillside, shielding almost everything from view. After the group passed Helgen (this time going around, at Irvine’s urging), there was a small group of Stormcloaks talking on the roadside, but they weren’t the ones that had saved his life and thus, the two parties ignored one another. Barbas explained that they would head to Whiterun and catch a carriage to Solitude and continue from there, and Irvine agreed. It wasn’t long after Helgen that the snow turned to a heavy rain, a thunderstorm at that, that something loomed ahead in the mountains.

“I know that place,” Irvine said, pointing off to the old ruins that blackened the hills across the river. “Bleak Falls Barrow. Are we that close to Riverwood?”

“That’s right,” Barbas said, trotting along. “I figured you could use some rest.” It suddenly dawned on Irvine that it had been hours since he last slept, but he didn’t feel the least bit tired, despite his condition. Irvine gave his thanks before erupting in another coughing fit. When they got to Riverwood, they found it much the way Irvine had left it, although there was a handful of hold guards walking around the city - remnants of the Jarl’s order to protect the town from the dragon, no doubt. The two made their way into the Sleeping Giant, and all was well. It was strange, in a sense. Orgnar didn’t seem to recognize him much and Sven, the man he thought had been the one that contacted the Dark Brotherhood to kill him, didn’t even give him a second glance. Had he been informed the attempt failed? Irvine shrugged it all off and rented a room for the day, the two retiring.

Irvine awoke the next morning to another coughing fit. Barbas dragged over a bucket into which Irvine began coughing up a good amount of blood. When he finally regained control of his condition, the two headed out into the main hall and Irvine ordered up some food for the both of them, which Barbas took gratefully. Irvine wondered if daedra had to eat or if the dog was simply putting on a show, but his thoughts were interrupted by screams outside. Suddenly, everyone in the Sleeping Giant was outside. The thunderstorm was still in full swing, but the rain had seemed to dwindle away a bit, but that wasn’t the cause for commotion. Turning to the south gate, Irvine saw what was - a vampire, a large one, flanked by two, black hounds. Within an instant, the vampire and hounds began racing through the village, attacking everyone that stood in their path. Barbas and Irvine joined the townsfolk and guards in the defense of Riverwood, Barbas rushing in while Irvine stayed back on the porch of the Sleeping Giant, firing away with his bow. At last, when the vampire fell, there was a final scream. Irvine rounded the Sleeping Giant and there, in the middle of the street, was a young boy covered in a pile of ashes. He was screaming wildly, flinging the ashes around him until Gerdur came from behind and grabbed him under the shoulders, dragging him kicking and screaming off towards her home.

“What happened?” Irvine asked of Barbas as the dog walked back over. The dog shook his head, hanging it.

“The boys dog was killed, and the vampire raised it as another hound. When he died...” Barbas trailed off, the rest was already known, and headed off down the road to the north. Irvine turned to back one last time at the pile of ashes before he ran to catch up with Barbas.

“Where did they come from?” he demanded of the dog, grabbing it by the scruff of it’s neck and pulling it back. “Answer me!”

“I don’t know!” he shouted (in his own way), shaking his head to loosen up again. “Probably remnants of the clan at Haemar’s Shame, off feeding only to come back and find their brothers and sisters slain.”

“And Clavicus sent them after us?” he asked, pulling the dog back in front of him.

“He wouldn’t do that!” Just then, Irvine broke into another coughing fit, spitting more blood out onto the bridge’s stonework. “If anything, they probably followed your trail.” With that, Barbas turned and continued down the road, Irvine making no attempt to stop him. Was it true? Could he have followed their trail back to Riverwood? Was he responsible for the dog’s death and the town’s attack? Irvine gave in to another series of coughs, dry this time, before heading after Barbas up the road. It was well into morning now, although with the gloom of the storm, you could have never guessed. The rain finally began to let up, and ultimately disappeared, as they got to Whiterun, but Irvine kept walking. “Hey, where’re you going?” Barbas called out, running after Irvine and sitting in front of him. The hunter motioned them a little further down the road, and out of earshot, before answering.

“I changed my mind,” he began. “We’re walking.”

“What? Why?” Barbas was obviously confused and simply laid down, giving his legs a rest.

“After this morning, I don’t want anyone else involved in this little adventure,” he answered, coughing slightly. “I just want this to be over with. So we’re going alone, on the roads.”

“But they’re vampires! the dog protested, but Irvine was already heading down the road. “They’ll catch us!”

“I’d rather them catch me than see we stopped at Whiterun and attack them,” he answered over his shoulder. Barbas looked between the carriage and Irvine for some time before finally running to catch up with the hunter. As Irvine went on, he began to feel at least a little better. The coughing let up and lacked the blood when it did come, although he persisted on having a raging headache, his skin seeming to crawl. They had only made it halfway to Rorikstead when Barbas told him to stop, and Irvine did as he was commanded. The dog sprinted ahead behind one of the few stone hedges that seemed to line the roads out here and there was a loud yelp, a Khajiit in black and red armor stumbling out, swing his sword to keep the daedric dog at bay. It was the Dark Brotherhood. Irvine was able to make short work of the assassin before he began looting through it’s body, coughing again. He once more retrieve a note and read it.

“You’re making friends in high places,” Barbas commented, laying down besides the Khajiit’s corpse.

“This isn’t the first time they’ve come after me, and I doubt it will be the last,” he admitted, tearing up the note and scattering the pieces to the wind.

“Oh? Well isn’t that interesting,” Barbas said, laying his head in his paws. “I sense a story coming on.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Irvine replied, standing up and continuing on. “I still have no real idea why they’re after me, especially with such ferocity. Oh, and thanks.” Barbas shrugged, or at least as best as a dog could shrug, before following after Irvine, letting the subject drop. When they got to Rorikstead, Irvine didn’t even look at the inn and Barbas didn’t ask any questions, probably thinking it was the same reasoning as not stopping in Whiterun. They continued north until Irvine spotted a stronghold ahead, fully stocked with bandits. Barbas didn’t complain when Irvine suggested they go around and cross the river further downstream. Though it was cold, it felt better then trying to take on a stronghold in his condition. His mind wandered back to the group Siddgeir had him kill and how he had nearly died. Was that the cause for his current state? He had never properly gotten treated, so perhaps the wound had become infected or something of the sort. Despite as bad as this may seem, Irvine felt reassured in knowing that he had finally come up with the reason for his current state. The pair continued on until they reached the town of Dragon Bridge where Barbas finally convinced Irvine to stop and eat, although he did it across the bridge and outside of town. When the meal was complete, Barbas lead him through Dragon Bridge and a little ways north towards Solitude before veering off down a side path.

“Come on, this way,” he said, his pace quickening. “Not much farther now!” As they took the road up into the mountains, the sun began to set, turning the sky a shade of red that could have rivaled the vast amounts of blood Irvine had been coughing up over the past few days. “I want you to know that this guy is nuts,” Barbas said, talking as the two walked. “He’s absolutely lost it and won’t hesitate to kill us both.”

“You say that like I expected anything else,” Irvine answered and he could have sworn he saw Barbas grin back at him. The sun was still setting when the two approached the cave and Barbas led the way inside. The battle inside was short and sweet, leaving Irvine quite surprised. There was only Sebastian and a flame atronach, both of which went down without much of a fight. Irvine used a paralysis poison he had come across on the first arrow that struck Sebastian, and the rest was simple from there, Barbas being a welcome diversion. When Sebastian lay dead before him, Irvine bypassed the axe on the table and continued deeper into the cave into what had ben Sebastian’s personal quarters. There was a vast collection of books, a bit of food, and a chest. Opening it, Irvine pulled out a rather misshapen white orb.

“A new hand touches the beacon,” came a female voice that seemed to echo throughout the cave. Barbas heard it was well, but didn’t seem the least bit put off. “Listen! Hear me and obey! A foul darkness has seeped into my temple. A darkness that you will destroy. Return my beacon to Mount Kilkreath and I will make you the instrument of my cleansing light!” There was a long silence that followed in which Irvine only looked at Barbas in amazement.

“Meridia,” he said, as if this should have been common knowledge. “It seems us daedra are quite attracted to you.” Irvine began coughing again, placing the sphere in his bag.

“This is getting out of hand,” he said, collapsing onto the bed of the late Sebastian Lort, coughing more. “I don’t understand why I can’t just be left alone.”

“That’s just the way of things,” Barbas replied, sitting at the foot of the bed. At that moment, Irvine keeled forward and vomited up all that had eaten during the day before collapsing on his side on the bed. “Hey, are you alright?” Irvine simply waved the dog off, curling up on the bed as another fit of coughing ripped through him.

“I just need to rest,” he said, his voice trailing off as he passed out.
 

Assassin99

Active Member
yet another great entry
 

Assassin99

Active Member
i am an exeptioanally fast reader i can read a thousand page book in two days
 

Katastrophe

King of Tales
If you read my post in two minutes, that puts you around the same range as the top competitors for the World Championships for speed reading. (source)
Somehow, I doubt that.
 
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