• Welcome to Skyrim Forums! Register now to participate using the 'Sign Up' button on the right. You may now register with your Facebook or Steam account!
  • Hey there, thanks for visiting our fan fiction section. You should only write stories that aren't related to your character's encounters, if you wish to write a story about your character please post an entry in your blog.

    Before reading or writing a story, please make sure to read this thread. Thanks, Guest, and we hope you enjoy this section.

Archer Drake

Parkour Enthusiast
Hey everybody, this is my first time posting fan-fiction, or any of my writing for that matter. Please take the time to read this and let me know what you think. This story is only loosely based in the world created by various elder scroll games, and I have added in a few minor things into the story.

There is a scene where I tried to translate short phrases from English to Japanese using Google translate. I do not expect them to be correct, nor do you need to know what exactly each one means.

This fan-fiction will not contain any adult content or the like, hence the lack of an 18+ tag. I aim only to tell an entertaining story and get some feedback on my writing.

So, without further ado, here is what I currently have done for "The Silence of Madness."
 

Archer Drake

Parkour Enthusiast
My eyes flutter open, clamping shut again at the sudden assault of light. My body aches everywhere at once. I’ve never been in so much pain. I blink my eyes slowly open, taking in an alien world. Fear explodes down my spine, I know this land, it’s snow-covered steppes and whistling mountaintops. Skyrim. I glance about, trying to orient myself, but the snow-capped pines distort the sun’s rays. A voice jerks me from my moment of terror.

“Hey, you’re finally awake.” The Nord in front of me spoke, a hardy-looking man dressed in dull gray chainmail and a blue sash and scarf. A Stormcloak. One of the last. I stare at him stupidly, unable to form words. Did the guards...the thought trails off. No, it can’t be. It isn’t! I glance down at my tattered and bloody outfit, a hooded black leather cuirass with long sleeves, black leather pants, black leather boots, an archer’s guard on my left arm, fingerless gloves, and a dark blue scarf. My shoulders droop in despair, I have been mistaken as one of these blind followers of the dead Ulfric Stormcloak, one of the last remnants of a fallen organization. The Nord speaks again,

“You were at the border weren’t you? Snatched up by these Imperial bastards!” I nod solemnly,

“Yes. I came here to find…” My voice trails off, what I want matters no more. I shake my head my anger boiling over,

“Yes, I was at the border. Quickly snapped up for crimes I had no part in. I’m not one of you fools!” The Nord in front of me flinches at my words,

"You’d do well not to offend me, cat!” He sneers. I glare at him, spitting back,

“Would I? Interesting. It seems to me that your pathetic little group has already taken my life, so what is there left for you to threaten, hmm?” The foolish man has no remark. Well enough, I’ve wasted some of the few breaths I have left on this man.

I drop my head and stare at my bound hands. Run from Elsweyr, chased across Cyrodiil and taken hostage here just the same. It was the dead of night when I reached the border, filled with hope. I jogged along my path when a corpse tripped me up, indecipherable amongst the tall grass. Reflexively, I had drawn my bow when a heavy-set man tackled me from behind. I wriggled free and turned to face my attacker, drawing my short, curved blade. I had no idea the man was an Imperial, so when he called out for help when I effortlessly spun him to the ground, an army of angry men charged and beat me savagely. I couldn’t stand when they finished. I’ve been beaten four times. The second happened the morning after my capture, when the soldiers purposefully threw me upon a General with a burning hatred for the Khajiiti. They laughed as I pleaded for the man to stop, over and over again. The same day, my limp body was tied against a tree. My punishment, they said as each man took three turns driving foot and fist alike into my body. The last took place when I couldn’t confess to my crimes, whatever they were. Held up by two men, another drove a gauntleted fist into my gut over and over until I couldn’t stand and scarcely breathe. The man finally tired and knocked me unconscious.

The hours tick by as the cart I’m tied into rolls along. Past a ruinous city, through a small village, and into a grand hold dominated by a beautiful palace set atop a tall hill. We’re carted through the city as inhabitants scream searing profanities at us, shoved through the palace into a massive open aired porch. Each step is pure agony. Each breath sends daggers of pain through my chest. Death will be my relief, my escape from a world where I have never been wanted. We reach the porch as my legs give out and I crash to the ground. “Get up cat!” a guards roars. I struggle up, unable to steady my foot enough to take a step. The guard sighs and calls another to drag me along, cursing at me the entire way. I’m dropped on my knees in front of the chopping block, a wicked axe lying next to it. I will be first to depart. A stout nobleman strides past the guards, who bow slightly at his passing. A ruler of some kind. He has impeccably clean locks of long blonde hair, and a perfectly tailored suit, finished by a golden crown and a polished steel axe at his belt. The man steps up to the block, staring at me strangely. I drop my head and mutter,

“Please. I’m not one of them.” My words seem to fade in the breeze because the man addresses the small crowd.

“Before us lie the last shards of rebellion, the final members of the group known as ‘Stormcloaks.’ These are the men responsible for plunging Skyrim into chaos! These men have slaughtered our sons! These men have decapitated your daughters! These men have taken your lives for themselves! Today…Today, these men will pay for their crimes against us. Today! These men will face the gods! Today! These men will die by the sword they lived by! Today! We will finally free Skyrim of it’s blight! Today the Stormcloaks will be brought their final reckoning!” The crowd roars in response, my spirits sinking further into the ground. A burly executioner steps up and hefts the massive axe. The nobleman steps back,

“Begin!” He booms. The Executioner pushes me down on the block so that I look out at the crowd. Seconds tick past. I imagine the axe rearing back, swinging. A monstrous crash sounds throughout the porch, and the axe slams into the ground inches away from my head as screams erupt from the crowd. I pull myself up and face the source of the terror. A massive beast looms over me, swinging the now dead Executioner around in it’s maw. I slide backwards as quick as I can, adrenaline painfully sharpening my senses. People flood from the porch. Guards rush past, swords drawn. The dragon idly smashes three of them, throws two off the balcony, and crushes another between it’s jaws. The icy-white dragon turns its attention to me, rearing it’s mighty head. A voice roars behind me, reverberating across the porch. In a flash, a man is on top of the dragon and swinging his sword about wildly. The dragon throws the man off and again he says three words in cadence, suddenly moving as if the world around him has slowed. The two strike at the other, locked in combat. Suddenly, the dragon roars sending forth a shockwave. The man stands his ground against the invisible tempest, but it’s epic power connects and tosses me away. I slam into a wall and the world snaps to black.
 
Last edited:

Archer Drake

Parkour Enthusiast
I snap awake, jolted from sleep in milliseconds as adrenaline floods my system. The feeling soon passes and I force myself to breathe evenly, free of almost all the pain. I’m dead, I must be. The impact with the wall broke my neck and dispatched me to the heavens. I glance around a welcoming wooden house with a lit hearth and plenty of food, a mighty black axe hangs from the wall opposite the bed I lie in. I chuckle, I guess I’m still alive. There wouldn’t be weapons in the heavens. Then where am I? I sit up, the thick quilt dropping to my waist, exposing my bare chest. I pull the quilt up and breathe a sigh of relief when I see I’m dressed in a pair of baggy black trousers. I don’t particularly like the fact that I was changed, but at least I'm wearing something.

I swing my legs off the bed and sit up, shocked at the absence of my bruises. Healed, cleaned, clothed. What happened? I try to stand, but I’m still wobbly and weak. I drop back onto the bed, I guess that’s to be expected. A massive pang of hunger grips my stomach, forcing a groan. When was the last time I ate? I pause, what day is it anyway? I glance around the room, finally taking in my surroundings. The room has a small bed, an end table, and a dresser. The room is fairly narrow, and has a frosted glass window on the wall opposite the open door, letting broken beams of light permeate my surroundings. I gather myself and push myself to a standing positon, grunting with the effort. Just one foot in front of the other. I stagger forwards, catching myself on the doorframe. I suck in a breath and take another step, stumbling slightly but remaining upright. I take another step, again and again until I make it out of the room. I look around the house, it’s a sprawling three-story home with a basement and a number of interesting artifacts hanging around the walls: dragon teeth, magic staves, ancient-looking swords, and intimidating midnight-black armor polished to perfection. I slowly limp over to the decorative red door and push it open. The faint early morning light greets my eyes and a gentle breeze wafts through the pleasantly warm spring air. A wide field spreads out in front of me, framing the snow-capped peaks of mountains far off in the distance.

A loud crack snaps me back to reality, was that a bow? I slowly walk around to the side of the house, where a shadowed figure stands with a black bow at full draw. The figure looses the arrow and it strikes the bull’s-eye of the furthest target. I stand at the corner of the house as the figure lands arrow after arrow on the four targets, each one a near perfect bull’s-eye.

“You can stop hiding.” I jump at the sudden noise, nearly falling over. The figure drops his stance and puts away the bow,

“I knew you were up.” I make a face and the man continues,

“I heard the door open and your shadow gives you away.” I nod, impressed yet again by this man. I open my mouth to speak, but he holds up a hand,

“I’m sure you have many questions, they will be answered. But first, please come inside with me and I’ll fix you something to eat. You must be hungry.” I nod, not arguing with food. The man prepares a meal of eggs, ham, sweet rolls, and fruit. I do my best to eat in a civil manner, but my hunger gets the better of me and I end up wolfing down my food. I wipe crumbs from the corner of my mouth,

“Sorry, I didn’t intend to be so rude. I can’t remember the last time I ate.” The man nods,

“No need to worry, you have been asleep for near a week.” My jaw drops,

“A week?”

"Yes. I didn’t expect you to get up today. My friend, you were in bad shape.” I nod,

“I suppose I owe you for more than I thought.” The man dismisses my remark with a wave of his hand,

"You owe me nothing. Especially after my people treated you in the manner they did. In fact, I think I still owe you.” My brow furrows,

"How so?” The man chuckles,

"Look at you my friend. You have no money, no armor, no weapons, you wouldn’t even have clothes if it weren’t for what you are wearing now.” I nod, embarrassed.
"Allow me to help you out a bit more and you will be free to go afterwards if you please.” I nod,

"Thank you for your kindness.” The man nods,

"Excuse me, but I have yet to learn your name. The soldiers that captured you did not provide any information.” I nod,

“My name is Dasdan Jadavi.”

"Pleasure to meet you, Dasdan.” He pauses,

“You have a strange name for a Khajiit.” I nod,

“I was born in Hammerfell, and so named by a pair of Redguards.” The man nods, not pushing further,

"My people call me by many names: Legate, Harbinger, but I’m sure you have heard the most common.”

"Dovakiin,” I supply. The man nods,

"Yes.” I feel like I should be surprised, but after seeing the shouting match between him and the dragon I can easily understand.

“My real name is Aventus.”

"It is an honor to meet you, sir.” Aventus smiles,

"No need to go all formal on me boy. I am a friend, not a lord.”

“After you defeated the dragon, what happened?” Aventus sits back, dim light framing his face. He’s older than me, probably in his late-thirties with a kind, chiseled face, short black hair, piercing blue eyes, and a friendly smile marred by a long, twisting scar traveling from the left cheek, across the mouth and down to his Adam’s apple. He still retains a youthful spark and his body has grown powerful from all his battles.

"Ah, that is a bit of a story isn’t it? Our battle destroyed the great porch and when the smoke cleared, there were still Stormcloaks to be executed. The Jarl, or the ruler of the hold, decided to have the traitors thrown in the dungeon until a proper execution could be held. Whiterun’s guards can be racist at times and felt it unnecessary to keep you alive. I stepped in and stopped that nonsense, rather easily convincing them you were a traveler and not a Stormcloak. The only reason you were captured in the first place was the blue scarf you had on, which is hardly evidence, it wasn’t even the right color, too dark. Not to mention you had on foreign armor, and carried foreign weapons. Naturally, the men argued, especially since you did fight back. From what I gathered, that is. I explained that a foreigner may not know of the Imperial army’s foothold in Skyrim and when a man attacks said foreigner, they are bound to fight back. There was a fair amount of arguing and I had to pull rank and threaten a particularly racist guard. Afterwards, I took you to the temple, where alchemists and healers did their best to patch you up. Lucky enough, you didn’t lose any teeth. When the healers finished, we boarded a carriage and rode to my home. That was five days ago.” I nod,

"What became of my things?” Aventus sighs,

"I do not know. Your weapons have been taken and most likely sold. We’ll have to get you replacements. As for your armor, I can assume you don’t want to wear anything tattered and bloodstained.” I nod, shoulders drooping,

"Was anything recoverable?” Aventus nods,

"Yes, a dragon claw necklace.” My ears perk up,

"Really? Where is it?” Aventus reaches into his pocket and produces a small, ivory-coated dragon claw strung up by a thick, black necklace between two gray circular symbols. A parting gift from my now deceased parents. I slip it around my neck and clutch the claw,

“Thank you. This is one of the few things I have to keep the memory of my family alive.” Aventus nods,

"My pleasure. What is your story Dasdan?” I sigh, I was hoping to avoid that question,

“My story isn’t a heart-warming one in the slightest. I was born in Hammerfell, named by Redguards who brought me to Elsweyr, and left me in an orphanage. I spent my first couple of years in Elsweyr as an orphan. My parents found me when I was just a little cub and took me in as their own, unable to have their own children. The two of them worked at a monastery, a private school for gifted individuals that offered courses on martial arts, most notably, the Whispering Fang. It was there that I learned our history, our culture, and whatever else our mentors thought necessary to teach us. I took a particular interest in martial arts, especially the Whispering Fang, and by the time I turned twelve I was fairly adept in the discipline. I also learned the basics of archery, stealth, and of course, thieving.” I chuckle,

"I suppose that doesn’t help the stereotype.” Aventus smiles, listening intently.

“When I turned fourteen, a student contracted some disease that caused insanity. Or so I heard. He snapped one day and killed my mother and father. I got there before anyone else and…suffice it to say, my attempts to save them made me look guilty.” My voice shakes at the painful memory, my parents’ last moments brought forth once again. “I was chased from the monastery, across Elsweyr and into Cyrodiil. I found no solace there, and was chased out just the same. I eventually made it to the border of Skyrim, where…well, you know the rest.”

Aventus nods,

"How old are you my boy?”

“I am now eighteen. Hardly an adult in the eyes of the Khajiiti.”

“Do you mind if I ask why you came to Skyrim at all?” I shrug,

“It was the most difficult path to follow and it is home to many of my kind.”

"Is that all?” I shake my head,

"No, I hope that some day I will be able to prove my innocence and remove the bounty on my head. I may not be a Stormcloak, but people want me dead just the same.” Aventus nods,

"I see. Do you mind if I change the subject?” I shake my head,

“Not at all.” Aventus nods, obviously picking up how uncomfortable I am,

“There is a Khajiit caravan not far from here. Do you think they would carry what you need?” I nod, ears perking up,
"I know for a fact they do. However, they do not offer those goods to anyone, so you have to ask specifically. I must warn you, my armor set is fairly expensive.”Aventus doesn’t even flinch,

“Wealth is something I have more than enough of my boy. Would you like to go?” I nod.

"Good, there are some clothes in the dresser in your room, you are welcome to anything
you may find in there.” I nod my thanks and walk back to my room, strength already returning to my legs. I close the door behind me for privacy’s sake. I pull open the dresser and scan through the clothes, picking a long-sleeved red shirt, a pair of simple black boots, and a belt to better hold up the loose black trousers. I roll the sleeves up to my elbows and tuck the necklace under my shirt. I look into the small mirror I hadn’t noticed before. A young, athletic Khajiit stares back at me. White fur and black stripes in exactly the same pattern as a tiger, and bright green eyes. I chuckle, if I crouch down, I swear someone would mistake me for a white tiger, especially without the long hair or ear-piercings of other Khajiit. I step out of my room as Aventus finishes adjusting the straps of the ebony chest piece. I raise an eyebrow,

“Why the armor?” Aventus chuckles,

“Skyrim is not a safe place my boy. Traveling without armor is asking for trouble to find you.” A twinge of fear jumps down my spine,

“I’ve had enough trouble for a while.”

"Indeed,” Aventus says as he finishes putting on the armor. He walks over to a display case and hefts a massive greatsword,

"You said you are an archer, yes?”

"Yes, though not as skilled as you.” Aventus tosses me an Elven bow and a quiver full of steel arrows, along with an archer’s guard,

"Will these do?” I nod as I fix the quiver to my back and the guard to my arm. I sling the bow onto my back as Aventus walks outside and locks the door behind us.
 
Last edited:

Archer Drake

Parkour Enthusiast
The walk is uneventful and we soon lapse into silence, listening to the chorus of birds wheeling overhead. Suddenly, a loud crack punctuates the silence and an arrow whizzes past, missing my face by mere inches. I jump back and whip out the bow, quickly loading an arrow. Aventus has already drawn his sword and stands ready.

“Bandits,” he breathes. I scan the thick woods in front of us for any sign of movement. Another arrow whizzes past, missing by over a foot. I jump into action and sprint towards the tree line. I take cover behind a tree as Aventus clanks up behind me. Suddenly, shouts fill the air and a team of five bandits bound out of the shadows. I spin around and loose an arrow, catching one in the chest. Three break off towards Aventus and another hones in on me. I plant my feet and slip her first swipe. She recovers quickly and comes at me again, swinging a dagger blindingly fast. I dodge attack after attack and find myself out in the open again. She comes at me again and I catch her arm, bringing my foot up and shoving her back. I toss the bow and drop into a stance, claws drawn.

“Come on!” I yell. She lunges forward, thrusting the blade forth, I duck around the attack and drive my claws into her thigh. She stumbles and I land a roundhouse kick to the back of her head before she can recover. Her body drops to the ground, unconscious. I fetch the bow and quickly locate Aventus. He has taken out one of the men, but lost his weapon in a tree and grapples with the other two, trying to pull one off his back. I draw the bow and suck in a breath, watching as the moments drag on. Aventus’ leg comes up and shoves one man back, I take the opportunity and loose the arrow. Seconds later, it buries itself in the man’s waist and he collapses. Aventus grips the arm of the man on his back, flips him over, and breathes fire into the man’s face, no doubt sending him to the heavens. I breathe a sigh of relief and jog over to Aventus.

“Are you okay?” I ask. He nods, out of breath,

"Yes, thanks to you. Let me go find my blade, and you should wash your hands.” I nod and jog over to a river, rinsing all the blood off my hands and equipment. At least I didn’t get blood on my clothes.

Aventus clanks up behind me as I finish cleaning up,

"I found something you may want to take a look at, Dasdan.” I make a face as Aventus hands me a crumpled note. I carefully open it and scan the text, it reads: Enclosed within this envelope is your pay. I expect you to carry out my wishes to the letter. Remember, the target is a young Khajiit male, probably eighteen years of age. It is unknown if he is traveling under an alias or using his true name. You are to disable him, not kill him, and ask the questions we have already sent you. If the subject proves to be the wrong person, you must let them free. A number of dead Khajiiti with similar traits will raise eyebrows and we prefer to keep this matter quiet. If the subject turns out to be our target, you are to bring him to us, alive. Bonuses will be awarded for following all of our rules and resolving this in a timely manner. I sigh,

“Less than a week in Skyrim and we already have bounty hunters on our tail.” I slump to the ground and rest my arms on my knees. Aventus sits down beside me,

“Do you know who it’s from?” I nod,

“Whomever wrote this referred to my kind as ‘Khajiiti.’ That alone tells me they are a Khajiit. The handwriting is that of my old mentor, the fancy commas, the lopsided T’s. It has to be her.” Aventus nods,

“What can we do to end this?” I make a face,

"We? I don’t need to drag you into this, Aventus. It would be rude of me to ask, considering all you have done.”

"You don’t have to ask. I was in a position very similar to yours nearly twenty years ago. I know how harsh people can be, and I had Jarls and Greybeards at my back. You have nobody to fall back to.” I sigh,

"It’s been like that for years now.”

“But you’ve been running my boy. Eventually, these things tend to catch up. I am offering to support you as my Companions have chosen to support me over the years.”

“You know I can’t ask you to do that, Aventus. I can’t even pay you.”

“I know my boy. Like I said earlier, I wish to help. I only ask that you allow it.” Aventus gestures to the woods around us,

"See these trees? Notice how they grow. How their trunks interlace with others? How the branches form nets high above our heads? These trees grow around and into one another, and when one falls, it gives the nourishment stored inside to the other trees. Nature has shown us breath-taking forests can be built up by sacrifices that further the giver in no way. The fallen tree gains nothing from releasing it’s nutrients, and the other trees have nothing to give in return. I am offering myself to you as the fallen tree, knowing very well you have nothing material to give back. Why? Simply because it is the right thing to do.” A man so powerful, yet he dedicates his existence to helping others simply out of morality? I didn’t know such people existed.

“I…I don’t know what to say.”

"Yes, say yes and allow me to aid you.” I nod,

"I would be honored to have your help, Aventus.” Aventus shows his broad, welcoming smile,

"Good, now where are we heading?”

"Sairento Monastery,” I supply. It’s ridiculous to think about, after years of running, the answer is simply to turn around and march right back the way I came. Aventus slowly gets to his feet,

"Well, I suppose that armor would be a start.” I nod, a twinge of fear lodging itself in my head. We start off down the path again, and for the first time in what seems like forever, the future doesn’t seem so bleak.
 
Last edited:

Archer Drake

Parkour Enthusiast
We reach the Khajiit caravan without any further trouble, but I pull up short. Aventus turns to me, noting my uneasiness,

“Dasdan? What’s the matter?”

“Those Khajiit, they move in and out of Elsweyr rather frequently.”

“You know them?” I nod,

"More or less, yes.”

"You think they are in on the hunt for you?” Aventus supplies. I nod,

"Walking up as a very possible suspect and asking for both the weapon, armor, and mark of the Sairento Monastery rather obviously states who I am.” Aventus nods,

“How well are they connected with the Monastery?”

“Very loosely.”

"But they obtain the equipment from the Monastery itself?”

"Correct.”

"I’d consider it a worthwhile risk. You might get caught, but I’m here to help. However, walking away without proper equipment will kill you.” I nod,

“I suppose.” I nervously approach the tent and the elderly merchant greets me with a smile,

“Your presence brings happiness to my old bones. What can I do for you today, friend?” I smile back,

“I need equipment.” The merchant nods,

"I see. What are you seeking?”

"I seek stealth so that my foes may never know my presence.”

"Sairento?”

"Hai.”

"Kiritsu?”

“Hebi no kiba.”

"Yakan ya hi?”

“Middonaito.” The merchant nods,

"Anata no buki?”

"Naifu ya eisei no yumi.”

"Isshun.” The merchant stands and disappears into the large tent. Aventus looks at me, completely lost,

"Like I said before, you have to request my equipment specially,” I say. He nods,

“Apparently so.” The merchant returns with my complete armor set, my knife and scabbard, and my blue scarf. I smile,

"Ikura?”

"4,500 Septims.” “Kansha.” I turn to Aventus, but he is already paying the merchant,

“Thank you,” I say. Aventus smiles and collects my equipment from the merchant, handing it to me. The merchant motions to the back of the tent,

"There is a small tent you can use to try all of those on, if you wish.” I nod my thanks and step into the tent, quickly changing into my armor. It fits perfectly, as always. I finish putting on the armor and wrap the scarf loosely around my neck, tucking the trailing ends behind my neck, underneath the hood. I fasten the knife to my belt and strap the midnight black bow to my back. I step back outside and Aventus smiles,

“It looks a lot better on you when it isn’t ripped to bloody shreds.” I chuckle,

"Thank you, Aventus.” We turn to leave and the merchant calls after us,

"Travel safe my friends.”

"Kansha,” I call back.

Aventus makes a face at me again,

"What did you just say to him?”

"My thanks.” I glance over at Aventus,

"What became of the Elven bow?” He shrugs,

"I sold it, not much use for it anyway.” I nod, the quiver of arrows he gave me earlier strapped to my back.

"This isn’t the way we came.” Aventus nods,

"It isn’t, we’re going to stop by Whiterun before we set off. Aela will be able sharpen your skill with that bow of yours. Besides, we need to make a few stops along the way.” I nod,

“Whiterun is where I was brought earlier?”

“Unfortunately, yes. However, it is the seat of Jorrvaskr, the hall of the Companions.” I nod, worried about the guards and the noble presiding over the hold.
 
Last edited:

Archer Drake

Parkour Enthusiast
Aventus and I reach Whiterun without any further complications, easing my wariness, but only slightly. As we approach the gate, the guards part and bow slightly towards Aventus,

“It is good to see you again, Harbinger,” one of the men says. As I pass the gate a guard grabs my arm,

“Stay out of trouble, Khajiit.” I nod and the man roughly shoves me away.

“Are all Nords racist?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Most are, yes. However, don’t judge them too harshly my boy, they have fought hard over their lands. The Nords still struggle to wrest control from the Thalmor agencies. Take their racism with a grain of salt and be aware of the reasons behind it.”

I nod, “I suppose anyone would be angry in their situation.”

Aventus nods, “Good, just stay out of their way and you should be fine.” Aventus leads me through a bustling city with merchants, hunters, and blacksmiths all peddling their wares around a large well. Deeper into the city lies a massive tree encircled by small houses and a temple. Off to our right is a building made out of an overturned ship, and set high atop the city is the breath-taking palace. Aventus notices me taking in the scenery,

“Whiterun is a much nicer city when you aren’t being marched to an execution.”

“No doubt.” The palace is still scarred from the dragon, but most of the rubble has already been cleared and the brick-masons have set to repairing the massive porch that looks out across the city and the rolling fields beyond.

“Dasdan, over here.” I turn back to Aventus who is climbing the steps towards the boat-building. I jog up to him,

“Is this…” “Jorrvaskr,” Aventus nods.

We stride into the building to reveal a wide hall with tables centered around a low fire-pit. An elderly man with long gray hair approaches Aventus, smiling broadly,

“Harbinger! It has been too long.” Aventus smiles back and shakes the man’s hand,

“Ah, Vignar. How have things been?”

“Good, very good. We have fresh members training and making our numbers ever greater. The gold has been flowing in steadily and our presence has never been greater. The Silver Hand hasn’t been active as of late, but as long as we do not attack them, we should be fine.” Aventus nods,

“Good. What of the members of the circle?”

“Good, Aela has been watching over that with a keen eye. I dare say we are up to six members now. All good, strong warriors tested in battle.” The man, Vignar casts a glance my way,

“Who is this?”

“Vignar, this is Dasdan. I found him when I battled the dragon a number of days ago.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, Dasdan here was crossing the border from Cyrodiil, and happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was mistaken as a Stormcloak soldier.” Vignar nods,

“I see. Well, it is nice to make your acquaintance, Dasdan.” I bow slightly,

“Thank you, Vignar. It is nice to meet you as well.” Aventus smiles,

“Vignar, have you seen Aela?”

“Hm? Oh yes, she is out back training a newcomer in the art of archery.” Aventus nods,

“Thank you.” I follow Aventus outside, feeling awkward and out of place. Outside we find a woman close to Aventus’ age and a young green-skinned Argonian firing at large archery targets, the woman stops the Argonian after a shot and adjusts his form. Aventus walks up and spreads his arms,

“Aela, how are you my Huntress?” The woman turns and a smile lights up her face,

“Aventus!” The two embrace and Aela dismisses the Argonian, telling him to work on refining his form. The two walk back to the covered porch arm in arm, smiling. I finally put two and two together,

“Are you married, Aventus?” I ask. Aela nods,

“Yes, we have been for a number of years now.” I finally get a look at Aela, she is of a thin and shapely build with long brown hair and three claw-like tattoos across her face. Her eyes are a pale gray, giving her a cool gaze.

Aela eyes the bow on my back and cracks a smile, “Do you know how to use that bow?” I nod. “Show us,” she says.

I pull the bow off my back and notch an arrow. I walk to the edge of the porch and calmly pull in a breath, drawing the bow. I pause as I zero in on the target and let the arrow fly. It strikes just outside of the bull’s-eye with a dull thud.

“Not bad, not bad at all. What’s your name?” I relax and turn back around,

“Dasdan.” Aela nods,

“Well, Dasdan, you and I are going to spend a lot of time training together, assuming Aventus hasn’t brought you here for other reasons.” Aventus tenses up briefly Aela’s comment. I almost ask, but hold myself back. If Aventus doesn’t see fit to tell me everything about a place I’m not even involved in, so be it. I haven’t told him everything about Sairento, either. Aela turns to me,

“So, Dasdan. Do you wish to join in the ranks of the Companions?”
 

Archer Drake

Parkour Enthusiast
Her question sets me back a moment,

“I’m not sure, I haven’t even thought about it.” Aela nods,

“Fair enough, I imagine you and Aventus have business outside of the Companions?” I nod.

“I see. Well, if you do wish to join our ranks, come speak to me. Either way, you are welcome to train with me whenever you want.” I smile,

“Thank you, Aela.” She bows slightly and faces Aventus,

“If you will excuse me dear, it is late.” Aventus kisses Aela on the forehead,

“Of course, my love.” Aela disappears inside Jorrvaskr and Aventus turns to me, “Well, since you will be staying here for a while, we should work out a room for you stay in.” I shake my head,

“No need, I can stay at a local inn, I think I saw one on the way here.”

“Dasdan, no. I would much prefer it if you stayed within Jorrvaskr. You were here just the other day being executed, you know. Besides, I think we have an open room.” I look down at the floor,

“Thank you, Aventus.” He is starting to treat me a bit like a young child, but I suppose some of it is for my own good. Aventus shows me to a room beneath the main hall of Jorrvaskr and tells me to find him if I need anything. I nod my thanks and close the door behind me. The room itself is rather small, with a slanted roof, a case for a weapon, a wardrobe and dresser, and a small end table next to a bed. The room has no windows, but it’s comfortably cool and dimly lit; thanks to a few small candles scattered throughout the room.
I set my bow and arrows in the case and leave the room, making sure to close it behind me. I turn around and nearly run into a wall of man. I step back and look up at an intimidating face with long dark hair, a short beard, and dark eyes.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” the man says in a deep, gravelly voice. I shake my head,

“Don’t worry about it. I’m Dasdan,” I say, offering my hand.

“Farkas,” the man responds and roughly shakes my hand. “New here, eh?” I nod,

“For now, I’m staying here while Aventus takes care of a few things and I train with Aela.” Farkas nods,

“I see, Aela’s a great teacher. She has improved the skill of many an archer, and will do no different to you.” Farkas walks away, but something about him strikes me the wrong way, Aela too. Something about their eyes has me on edge, but I can’t figure out what it is. I shake the thought from my mind and head back upstairs for a quick meal. I open the door and an elf greets me,

“Hey there, you new here?” I nod, how many times am I going to have to answer this question,

“Yes, I’m new here. I just arrived today with Aventus.”

“Friend of the Harbinger? Well, you have found yourself a wonderful traveling partner.” The Dunmer sighs, “I remember when Aventus first asked to join our ranks. We all thought him a weakling, but he soon proved us wrong. You know that man has wielded the mighty axe Wuuthrad in battle?” I shake my head,

“No, I’m not sure what Wuuthrad is to begin with.” The Dunmer nods,

“I see. Well that is a story for another time, but for now, come and enjoy yourself.”

“Thank you.”
 

Archer Drake

Parkour Enthusiast
I dine quietly on some meat, bread, and water; listening to idle chatter about trials and recent battles had by some for the “Glory of the Companions” as they often say. I excuse myself and walk outside, the cool night air caressing my face. I pull in a long drag of cool air, the light scent of fresh-baked pastries finding it’s way to my nose. I climb to the roof of Jorrvaskr and lie on my back, hands tucked behind my head staring up at the beautiful night sky. I grin as ribbons of pale green and soft red light up the sky, dancing in intricate patterns high above. The colors intensify as the stars come out and the soft glow of the moon weaves its way into the display. I used to watch this for hours at a time when I was younger, my parents lying beside me, each of us totally engrossed in the beauty of the night sky. The lights twinkle out of existence and a slowly make my way down to my room. I change out of my armor and into a pair of loose tan trousers I find in the dresser and collapse down on the bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

My dreams are plagued by memories of my parents death. I found my Father’s body first, collapsed facedown on a green rug reddened by his blood. I rolled him over to find a blade buried deep in his chest. A weak voice snapped me from my position. I ran to find my mother slumped in the corner, cradling her slit wrist, the knife buried deep in her stomach. I rushed to pull off my scarf, trying to slow the bleeding, but she stopped me. I looked at her with a wild fear in my eyes. I remember her eyes, so calm, so confident in their last moments. Her hazel eyes locked onto mine and I burst into tears,

“No. Mom, please. I…I can’t…not without you….not yet.” She smiled and wiped the tears from my eyes, smearing blood across my face.

“Shh, Dasdan. Listen to me.” She paused, tears welling up in her eyes, “Your Father and I could not be more proud of you. Look at what you’ve become my son. Your so talented. You have so much to offer this world, so much to teach it. Never give up on it, ever. Push through every challenge and make us proud, make yourself proud.” My voice shuddered,

“I will, Mom.” She smiled as the color drained from her face, and her eyes sank,

“I love you. I always will.” Her hand brushed my face and I held it there, staring into those knowing hazel eyes. Seconds later, her eyes slowly closed and she breathed her last, her hand sliding from my face. I didn’t even have time to mourn her before my instructor attacked and drove me from the monastery.
 

Archer Drake

Parkour Enthusiast
I wake in a somber mood, trying to shake the memory off and not dwell in the sorrow. I get up and pull on a white tunic and my boots. Aela greets me in the hallway,

“Ah, you’re up rather early, Dasdan. Sleep well?” I nod,

“Well, enough.” She smiles,

“I’d hope so, I’ll be running you through paces today to get a feel for where you’re at. After breakfast, get in your armor and meet me in the yard.” Aela strides off, leaving me standing in the hallway with a puzzled look. I thought we’d just be training archery, but I guess a bit of work in other areas would help in the long run. I head upstairs and down a meal of eggs, biscuits, and fruit; I’m surprised at how much some of the Companions eat, especially considering how none of them are even remotely out of shape. I finish my meal and change into my armor, grabbing my weapons and meeting Aela outside. I find her standing next to three others: Farkas, the Dunmer I spoke to earlier, and another woman with a fierce gaze in her eyes. Each of them has…whatever it is about their eyes that sets me on edge, but I bury the thought as I approach the semi-circle of people.

Aela steps forward,

“Today marks the beginning of your training. Each of us has mastered a specific skill that Aventus has decided you must improve upon.” She gestures to Farkas, “Farkas can withstand almost any blow and has mastered the art of defense. He will show you how to attack a shielded enemy efficiently, and how to better defend yourself in the heat of battle.” Aela turns to the Dunmer, “Athis has mastered combat with one-handed weapons and will show you how to increase the speed and precision of your strikes while providing the least amount of opportunity for counter-strikes.” Aela gestures to the woman, “Njada Stonearm has perfected many styles of unarmed combat and will teach you to fight with pinpoint strikes and perfect movement. I have mastered the skill of archery and will show you how to hunt your targets with skill.”
 

Archer Drake

Parkour Enthusiast
Farkas steps forward,

“Alright. You and I will start first. Come at me with everything you have, don’t worry. I’m ready for it.” I nod and draw my Karambit, it’s curved talon-like blade gleaming in the sunlight. Farkas drops into a battle stance and raises the shield, drawing a shiny steel sword. I cautiously step forwards, unsure of how I should come at Farkas. He’s wearing heavy armor, so he won’t be able to move quickly…well, as quickly. I rush forwards and dash to the side, slipping past a shield bash. I step forwards, but Farkas twists the shield and swings it at me in a wide arc. I can’t step back quick enough and the shield smashes into my shoulder, sending me reeling. I lose my balance and fall flat on my back. Farkas quickly turns and swings the sword down at me. I snap my legs up and roll backwards, quickly getting to my feet as the sword strikes the ground, sending a shower of sparks up. I rush forward and kick him hard in the shoulder. He crashes to his back as the sword clatters away from him. I quickly put a knee on his chest and rest the sharp edge of my blade on his neck.

Aela claps, “Well done, Dasdan. What did you think Farkas?” I stand back up and pull my blade away, Farkas just grunts in response.

“Athis, you’re up.” The tall Dunmer draws a steel sword and turns to me,

“How well do you know how to use that blade of yours.”

“Well enough,” I shoot back, dropping into a stance. Athis rushes forwards and swings the sword over his head, yelling with the effort. I sidestep and kick him in the waist, he stumbles but keeps his balance, swinging the sword in a rising attack towards me. I duck the attack and hook my arm around his upper body, twisting around and throwing him to the ground. Athis grunts at the impact, but throws me off. I quickly right myself, ducking another strike. I swing down at his leg, but he steps it back before I can connect. I use the momentum to spin around and sweep both legs out from underneath him. I catch his neck as he falls and throw him to the ground, resting the tip of my blade against his heart. I let go and stand up, Athis gasping for air.

Aela nods her approval, “While I don’t care for how roughly you spar, Dasdan, I do quite like the your battle efficiency.” I bow slightly,

“Thank you.”

Njada cracks her knuckles and steps forward. I sheathe my blade and clench my fists. Njada swings first, but I block it and throw a punch to her gut, she slips past it and grabs the arm, throwing me over. I rip my arm from her grasp and wrap my legs around her neck, throwing the two of us to the ground. I catch myself and roll to my feet. Njada shakily gets to her feet, stunned for only a moment. She rushes forward again, the two of us locked in a blur of movement. Striking, parrying, grappling, and dodging. I can barely keep up with all of her strikes, hardly visible in the air. She throws another blindingly fast punch and I can’t move fast enough. Her fist crashes into my chest, breaking my form. She attacks again, landing blow after blow. She rears back and punches me square in the face, blood pouring from my nose. I block the next strike and ram my shoulder forwards, giving me some space. I throw a kick, allowing her to slip past it with ease, I keep spinning and throw a much heavier kick from the other foot, my entire body in the air now. Njada doesn’t see it coming and my foot roughly connects with the side of her head. She falls to the ground unconscious as I land next to her limp body.

Aela stares at me, “You certainly have surpassed my expectations, Dasdan. I see you are a very skilled combatant.”
 

Archer Drake

Parkour Enthusiast
I wipe blood from my face, but my nose and mouth are gushing the stuff. I quickly check to see if I’m missing any teeth, but to my relief they’re all present. Aela produces a small vile filled with bright red liquid.

“Here, take this. It will help.” I nod my thanks, unable to do much else. I pop the cork and down the foul-tasting stuff. My nose suddenly stops gushing blood,

“Hey this stu…” I’m cut off as a massive pain erupts in my chest. I gasp for air as I collapse to my knees, clutching my chest. Farkas shoots me a worried look,

“Dasdan? Are you alright?” I try to make eye contact, but the light seems to have brightened ten-fold. I screw my eyes shut, but when I reopen them, everything is out of focus. I stagger to my feet, unable to breathe, unable to think. I stumble into Jorrvaskr, pain exploding across my body. I fall down the stairs and move,

“Aventus,” I rasp. My voice is alien, echoing inside my head. I’m crawling now. Searing pain explodes across my back, making me scream out in agony. I can’t move anymore, my body shaking. At some point, the pain fades and I black out.

I wake, my head pounding. My body aches. I slowly work my way to a sitting position, finally opening my eyes. I’m in my room, all of the candles out. Even with my night vision I can hardly make out anything. I can tell I’m in a pair of trousers. I get to my feet, but a wave of nausea forces me back down. Ugh, I feel…strange. Not sick, but not…I don’t know. The nausea passes and I’m able to get to my feet. I saunter through the room, my stomach grumbles, but I have only one thing on my mind now. A bath. I peek out into the empty hallway, it’s either really early or late at night because the halls are darkened. I grab a white shirt and a black pair of trousers from my wardrobe and head off to the baths. I spend a lot of time in there, the steam soothing my aching body and helping to ease my headache. After I finish bathing, I do the best I can to dry off and change into my clothes. I walk upstairs, feeling better, but something’s off. A door creaks open and the green-skinned Argonian steps out,

“Hi,” I say. My voice comes out deeper than I remember, resonating longer on the lower notes. The Argonian rubs his eyes,

“Hey, you’re…” his voice trails off, a concerned look spreading across his face.

“I’m…what?” The Argonian opens his mouth, but shuts it again,

“Come here, it’ll be easier to show you.” I frown,

“Show me what?” The Argonian shakes his head and motions for me to follow. I step into his room as he lights a small oil-lamp and pulls open a door on his wardrobe, exposing a small mirror.

“Take a look,” he says in a somber tone. I step over to the mirror. Someone else stares back at me. A Khajiit, yes but not me. The creature looking back at me is nothing I’ve seen before. It’s face is like a Tiger, like me, but the two front canine teeth are longer, like a sabre-cat’s. The teeth grow down to the base of the chin, gleaming white. The facial markings are more jagged, the edges of their lines bleeding into the white fur. The eyes are darker in every sense of the word, the irises are green, like mine, but they are two shades darker, encircled by a thick band of midnight black, shards of black mixing into the green. The fur around the eyes is almost gray, giving the creature a fierce gaze. It’s of a more muscular build than I, bundles of muscle visible under the tunic, my tunic. This creature is me! I look down at my arms, the clean lines of black are now jagged and slightly distorted. My fur is longer, especially my tail. It’s a good two feet longer, and much thicker with fur. My claws are sharper, sticking out a bit even though I have them retracted. Even my teeth feel sharper. I used to be about the same height as the Argonian, now I have a good four inches on him. Aela’s voice reaches my ears from upstairs. I storm out of the room and head upstairs, bristling with anger. I slam open the doors, and stalk up the stairs. Aela and two other Companions I don’t recognize stare at me. Aela whips out her bow,

“Who are you?” She demands.

“I’m the person who’s going to kill you!” I spit back. Aela makes a face,

“Dasdan?” I stride over to her and stop mere inches from her face,

“DO I LOOK LIKE DASDAN!” I scream. My anger boils over and I shove her, sending her skidding across the floor, “WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!” I’m still screaming, booming; my new voice reverberating through the empty hall. The door flies open and Aventus steps through,

“What in the Nine is…Dasdan? What happened to you?” I turn back to Aela,

“Ask her,” I spit. Aventus carefully walks over to Aela and helps her to her feet,

“Aela?” He asks calmly. Aela shakes her head, “He beat all three of them on his first try, Aventus. It was beautiful. After his fight with Njada, he was bleeding. I gave him the beast blood under the illusion it was a healing potion. I never thought,” She gestures to me, “I never thought this would happen.” Aventus gives Aela a dark look,

“You tried to turn him into a Werewolf without his consent or his knowledge?”
 

Archer Drake

Parkour Enthusiast
Aela hangs her head,

“Yes.” Aventus looks at me,

“He is no Werewolf. Did he even shift?” Aela shakes her head, “No, he didn’t.” Vignar steps into view,

“I’ve heard of this before. In ancient tales, there are those that consume the beast blood, but receive no transformations. They change, growing more powerful and more keen, but their soul remains clean of Hircine’s influence. They turn into Abominations.” Aventus turns to Vignar,

“You are not helping the situation.” Vignar holds up his hands,

“Allow me to continue. It is said that at certain times of distress on the mortal plane, Wardens are born to put Daedric lords back in their place. Wardens, like Dragonborn, are extremely rare. Completely immune to the influences of daedra, their souls will always remain pure. They are powerful in their own right, usually legendary fighters.” Vignar pauses,

“However, Wardens are only born in times of great need. When a Lord has overstepped their boundaries and gained too much power. This is the only explanation for Dasdan’s…reaction to the beastblood.” I look at Vignar,

“Is there a cure?” He shakes his head,

“No. You are not a Lycanthrope, and what has been done to you is no spell. There is no cure for your condition.” My anger fizzles out, replaced with only sadness. I am a monster. I drop to my knees and break, tears spilling from my eyes. I cry in hitching sobs, looking pathetic and weak, even in my new form.
 

Latest posts

Top