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Wolfbane

Why change the past when you can own this day?
HEY GUYS. This is my first fan fiction and I'm looking forward to embarking on this journey with you I welcome any praise, comments, advice that doesn't make you look like a tool and anything else you'd like to see! This is loosely based on the game and might feature a special character of mine. Hope you guys stick with me and enjoy.

Chapter one: Fire and Ash

Long icy fingers point to the sky, accenting the dark skyline with glistening snow. Longer branches bowing under the weight of the snowy white masses produced an eerie feeling of ever-lingering sadness as dusk sets in. The white ground crunched beneath steel feet as he continued to walk in the snow covered forest. Green and brown of a season pass have since disappeared and given birth to the cold. Blue waters become hidden traps amongst the ground. His patrol has been given typical foot paths for the past couple weeks, and it seemed like the end was nowhere in sight just as the snowfall.

“We’ve been at this for weeks. There’s not a damn thing here. Surely we would've seen signs?" the complaining soldier was looking around and sighing.

“Quit your belly aching. Would you rather be out fighting in the cold?” the soldier smacked the other on the head.

“At this point, yes. I would rather have someone to kill then march through the same damned forest!” The small and lanky man continued to belly ache as Ardin begin to roll his eyes at the very men he was on patrol with.

“Why don’t both of you fools shut it before you draw attention to us.” Ardin clung to whatever warmth he had as the chill of the wind try to pry at his steel encased chest. Unlike the men behind him, he tends to ignore the conditions and focus on the task at hand.There was also no need for whining over the chilly teeth around them. He shook the thought away, gripping his fur cloak while the others behind him continued their talks. His eyes darted back and forth scanning the lines of trees and rocks for signs of any disturbance; cracked limbs, impressions in the snow, animals running from a small area, or even startled birds. There has to be stock in the claims of Stormcloak movement. Although as he thought back, it could have said that there was movement of some kind in a general sense. The Wolf was on the hunt, and the prey was smart.

Moments like these reminds him of the times where he would hunt with a Bosmeri girl by the name of Avia. The two had met when they found themselves locking eyes when they happened to join the same band of warriors. It wasn’t long before the two enkindled a love from a pure friendship.After their camp was slaughtered and the foes dealt with they had lost contact aside from letters here and there. Where they stood as a whole was anyone’s guess. It been too long since they last spoke.

There were still absolutely no signs. It was almost too clean for there to be reports of recent traffic. Maybe whatever was causing trouble had been dealt with. As he was turning to order them around, a wooden shaft came darting out and the iron of the arrow went through one of the soldiers eyes, making him scream as he was aware for before dying. As fast as the first arrow came, a second matched the speed, getting the soldier to the right of Ardin in the belly. Whatever shooting at him was, it continued to sneak and was in no mood to show itself. Now, it was only him and the deadly trees around him, watching every leaf move as he prepares for the next shot. His fingers gripped the handle of his sword as he backed away from the trees in front of his view. If this is the work of bandits, then they are either getting smarter, or he was dealing with mercenaries. Either way, he was getting shot at.

For a moment there was stillness; No animals scurrying with the wind whirring, no birds calling to their mates before flying off. There was just the heavy silence. Then the rapid crunching of snow began followed by a scream and the slicing of steel. A steel great sword swiped passed him like a great wind before he drove his elbow into the face connected to it. His sword was withdrawn, making the fur cloak swing off and producing a wall of snow. What the hells was going on? His mind was split between the situation at hand and not getting split himself. Now there was staring not one but two fur clad bandits, clenching steel weapons. The two circled him for a moment as if they were the wolf, not him before following up with two matching swings.causing him to jump back making a skid in the white ground. One thing about bandits is that they don’t time anything and never calculate their strikes. Ardin spun under the horizontal death dealer as he clawed at snow and threw it in the face of the dagger wielding Redguard who clenched at her face before having a sword through her like a charred skeever on a spit.

“I’ll kill you if I have to” The other bandit swore as the lifeless body of his comrade was pooling in blood like cutting into raw meat. The orc connected a kick as Ardin tried to recover from the first kill. By this time the arrows started to fly his way, making him weave to avoid it. This was getting on his nerves. He circled around the orc to where he was in the line of fire. Sometimes in battle you have to gamble. Ardin timed the next shot, moving his torso to where it grazed his side and went into the Orc's arm. He followed a slice to the chest before he finally spotted the vermin in the trees. All he needed to figure out was how to pull him out of the damned green ward. The screams must have alerted the others because now there was six more Legionnaires. For what good it did. As more men came to his aid, the same happened with the bandits.

“Make sure we leave some alive. We need to sate the fears of the people and have something to haul back with us to Helgen; Captain’s orders. Will someone get the bastard in the tree?” Ardin pointed a numb hand up at the tree from the ground. The fighting ensued; the clash of steel created sparks, bringing to heat to the otherwise cold environment. The imperial legions were known to be some of the best in skirmishes, often using teamwork in place of sheer brutality. The archers took their place behind the fight, providing support as both sides began swinging steel and iron weapons into each other as if they were a butcher preparing the day's meat.

The next day they had arrived at the waste of a city. The people of Helgen shouting and booing at the passing carriages made him shake his head while the ones with their mouths unbound began to talk and amongst themselves. How Helgen looked before, Ardin could barely recall. Now it was home to a crumbling watch tower, a few sparse homes, and now what he assumed would be the prisoners' final resting place. Some would be sent home to their families while others would simply be burned. The thought of burning the unfortunate souls did not sit well with him.

“Quiet back there.” The imperial driver snarled at the his imprisoned charge. He acted as if they were there to do him a favor and make his life easier. Gods damn them if they are acting like they're about to lose their own life at the hand a of a giant, bloody axe while they are bound and away from their families. How dare they act scared and chatter with fear amongst them.

“They are afraid of what is to come,” Ardin gave the driver a glare as they finally stopped. One by one, the doomed men hopped out, like funneling fish in a net before you pull them out to club and gut them. He took his spot next to the captain sending each prisoner to the block almost taking a sick enjoyment. Most were either Stormcloaks or common bandits, both deserve the block. Being a Nord, Ardin agrees with the ideal of fighting for Skyrim, but the rebels don’t see the true threat that is developing. What that threat is, he can’t mutter around certain people.

“Next prisoner,” Her hands rested on her hips as she snarled at the prisoners

“Captain, he’s merely a thief. His crime is stealing a horse. Cut off a hand if need be.” Ardin threw his hand as the horse thief was trembling in whatever clothes he had on.

“I said next prisoner”

“By your orders captain.” Hadvar continued with the list as Ardin shook his head when their eyes met. All of a sudden the man sprinted as fast as he could, making Ardin turn to stare at him getting an arrow in the back. Dirt was kicked up as his body made a thud in front of a house, a child screaming in the window. Was this so glorious? Men running and risking getting punctured by an arrow because they would rather risk getting killed over something small like thievery? What about the dropping of heads just outside a family’s home? Next to the block were the group his patrol picked up. The damn bandit up in the tree was a scrawny imperial boy, no more than ten and eight. Face caked with mud and a defiant grin on his face; wasted youth. The boy laughed hysterically as he felt the foot of the captain on his back pushing him down to the wooden block.

“Any last words scum?” Colovian accents were always so foreign. Even to him, and he's been in service for a while. Damned imperials and their accents.

“You and I are the same, imperial; we both kill, and we enjoy the pain and misery. You await an open hand and a reward, I await a god that has no love for me. Get on with it, yeah? Putrid cu-“There was a large thunk of the axe as his head dropped. This went on for some time, getting more and more normal. Then came the final batch; A young bosmer almost reminding him of his once love along with more blue clad rebels. Why was a bosmer here? What is there in the harsh lands of Skyrim? His thoughts were broken by a large scream, distant, but loud. The screams were of another world, and of war. This was not a pained scream.

“What was that?” Tightening of bow strings could be heard.the archers narrowed their eyes and listened to the sounds around them as they listened to the faraway encroaching yells.

“It’s nothing.” This captain was damned determined to lop the head off of every prisoner. Nothing will stop her from executing . Then another scream came, getting closer every second. The sky around them swirled into a grey mass, making everyone stop for just a moment.

“I said, next prisoner!” again, the headsman was pulling his blade up, gripping the wood for the next swing. Ardin's eyes slammed shut as if it was his lover in the flesh. Expecting to see a dead wood elf, he opened his eyes to a totally new scene.

“What in oblivion is that?” He glanced through his black hair as people pointed to the entity.

“Dragon!” The blonde Stormcloak woman shouted towards the watchtower behind the headsman. Upon that watchtower resides a beast; Black scales gleaming with death with teeth and claws as long as a man’s blade and black leather bound wings that could block the sun landed upon all the men, Glaring into him, conjuring every fear he once had and will have. Before he knew it,a rush of fire came down onto them, making him jump to the side and see the Bosmer run off. For a moment he was frozen as soldiers began scrambling to defensive positions. The fear came back, and it stopped him; the fear and memories of the fire that took his home and his family. The smells of ash and burnt bodies caused him to throw up from the mixture. He had to get up, he had to keep moving.
 
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Wolfbane

Why change the past when you can own this day?
Sorry for taking so long guys. Life has a way of messing things up. I hope you enjoy!


Chapter Two: Pillar of salt

His body was still with fear; no words fell out of his mouth just as no thoughts entered his mind. The dragon continued its destruction of the village, sparing no rage as its fire sets the roofing of homes like kindle and the flesh of people as if they were uncooked pigs. Imperial Battle-mages summoned fireballs, engulfing their hand in red fury before launching it skywards leaving streaks of oranges just as the archers started to rapidly let fly arrow after arrow. The speed alone made it seem that it was never in one spot for too long before scorching the ground in throatfire. The town itself was in hysterics as people and soldiers alike darted to and from, trying to find cover as the winged nightmare continued its torment.mThe dragon was relentless in its onslaught. How can the legion battle a dragon? He only ever heard tales of them and how they were beaten as a child but never did he think that one could come back and attack a hamlet. This wasn’t some child’s tale, oh no, this was the present. The realization finally set his senses aflame, allowing him to move once again.

He had to find Hadvar; they could form a plan on getting the hell out of there. His eyes veered down towards his sword then back up once he realized withdrawing it would simply slow him down and it would be of no use to him against a death dealing legend come true. Even in a time of almost certain death humans fight on with everything they have. Now it would seem like one of those times. Most knew steel wouldn’t even wound the beast, yet soldiers were brandishing their weapons as if it could best any attack from the monster. The fire from this beast could melt a thousands swords into a throne with no effort.

“Haming, You need to get over here. Now!” Even in a time of crisis Hadvar thought not of himself. Haming ran as fast as his little legs could go,“That a boy. You’re doing great” A wall of fire quickly followed from behind the little boy, engulfing the boy’s father, “Torolf!” He swiped the boy to the back of him, making the others follow suit, “Gods… everyone back!” For a moment, the dragon flew off, allowing them to move closer to whatever way was the safest.

“Have any ideas?” Ardin stopped to catch his breath as Hadvar made sure that Haming was alright.

“We need to get into the keep! It’s our safest bet!”

“So we can risk getting crushed by rocks? What a great plan.”

“It’s the only one we got. We need to move if we stand any chance of surviving.”

The two men ran while there was a break of fire, reaching the big wooden door to the keep. Once inside, they took a moment to breathe while they continued onwards. Rocks overhead were crumbling causing dust and fragments of earth to seep through the newly formed cracks. For only a second, he looked up and thought to himself that truly the gods hated him, or at least adopted him as their plaything. So much have they done so, that he has accepted it, and continues living. Living; that’s what he planned on doing if he gets out alive. ‘I don’t care if I die as soon as I get out of this forsaken place, I need one last gulp of fresh air before I die. I’ll kill the one that would find it funny if I died as soon as I get out of here.’

“Ardin! This way! We’ve almost gotten out of this. The room awaiting is the Torture chamber, then we finally get out of the cave.”

“I hate that old man. Why the gods permitted him to live is beyond me. It adds to the notion that they are indeed evil. Even I wouldn’t do some of the stuff of which he does.”

“Says the man nicknamed Wolf of the north. So tell me, what would you not do that he does.

“Not now Hadvar. You should be more concerned about us living than wagging that tongue of yours.”

“Mmm”

The crackling of lightning and screams of furied steel shot down the hallway, getting closer as they approached the chamber. As they turned the corner, the color of blue and red were caught in a frenzy of blows, mutual hate, and the wanting to get out of being attacked by a dragon. There was no getting out of this with the help of one another, oh no. The torturer has been down in this darkened hole of misery for weeks trying to get every stormcloak to break. Most only have a fierce mouth and within an hour, two hour tops, they spill their insides like a slaughter fish being gutted for the night’s third meal. He loves it when he gets a big strong warrior type that thinks they can outlast a scolding hot dagger slowly dragging it’s way on exposed skin that has been shocked tender by a spell. The delightful screams that precede exquisite death. Some would last for hours, crying for their mothers like a whipped altar boy while others beg for mercy from their gods. The young hearty men are the most satisfying;Young and healthy skin is much more of a joy to cut and seer than that of a man such as his age. Now, when a woman comes into his hallowed place, it’s something serene. They squeal like a sue pig as they cry while they are being branded like cattle. Each one praying for a quick end, but knowing in the back of their minds that it was not to come. Their misery would not end there, even in death. Once life clawed it’s way out of their vessels, their bodies would still be warm. All he needed to do was to make sure nobody would discover him red handed. When they are lifeless, they don’t struggle, and have no quarrel with him having his way. Their flesh still warm, and his heart racing. Now it seemed that his heart was racing from not a dead pretty girl, but three foolish stormcloaks were trying to dish out their revenge.

For a moment Ardin simply wanted to look upon as the rebels strike down the imperial torturer and his assistant, allowing them to get a sort of payback, and so he simply watched for a time being, then joined in as soon as he saw the old man fall in a bloody pool. The fight had only lasted a few minutes due to their training and the lack thereof for the Stormcloaks. When all was said and done, he simply stared at the old man’s corpse and wondered what plane of oblivion he had found himself in, and how the pain was. Would it be pain for a man like him? He hoped so.

“If only dead men could talk.” The words left his mouth a bit louder than he had hoped.

“What are you on about? Dead men have no use. Old man lost his use a long time ago as a matter of fact. Old sadistic bastard.” Both men shook their heads before they continued making their way out of the horrific room that was filled with the secrets of men that emptied their pained mouths. His eyes went from the bodies to the greenish blue hue on the walls along with the sound of running water filing the adjacent room. Don’t look back, if you look back you could die; A saying that is probably in some holy book. Everything that he had just passed and witnessed will be behind him just like all the other events that twisted into an unfortunate happening. Hadvar yanked the lever thus dropping the bridge drawing them closer to their salvation or so they hoped. Blind faith and hope; Sometimes that’s what one needs. The small chance of freedom and living in an extreme and life threatening moment can make a man chew through every tendon and muscle and risk breaking his teeth while trying to chew through his own bone if all else fails.

The green and blue turned darker and darker as they made their way deeper into the cave before stumbling upon a bear. Hadvar quietly spoke up as the bear inhaled and exhaled a mighty breath as it slumbered. Either a massive boulder from above will come crashing down landing on them both, crushing them like a beetle under a rock in the hands of an idiot and would be faster, or the bear that was upon them could wake up in the rage, rush towards them, slash a massive clawed paw and split Hadvar, then get Ardin in the leg before feasting on his body. Here’s hoping for neither.

“I have a plan” the drawing of the bowstring started to echo in the cave

“What in the hells were you doing?” Ardin quickly turned to Hadvar as he nocked an arrow

“I’m going to take care of the bear.”

“No, we pass undetected. An arrow will only leave if we need it to leave” Ardin put a rough hand on the smoother wood thus making his friend lower the bow. Not wanting to debate the moral dilemma, he signaled to Ardin to lead the way. Before too long they were outside gazing upon mountains beyond mountains with a resting place at its peak. The reinvigorating chill of the air hit him as if he had just worked a scolding hot forge. A deer frolicked passed them and into the right side of the forest before a roaring scream and the flapping of mighty wings came over head.

“Get down!” both men shot down behind a rock as they watched the creature fly off with amazement in their eyes. What they had just escaped, most people would not believe. He couldn’t blame them. A dragon had come out of seemingly nowhere for no reason, then flew off after the destruction it wrought. It was said in the legend when dragons would return it would set brother against brother, spilling shared blood, and the end times were near. He never truly thought the legend, or rather, the prophecy was real. After all, it could have been thought up of the priests and priestess as a tool to keep people in line and holy. Yet now, he believes with every bone in his body that dragons are real and rather, the prophecy is real. It’s too much of a coincidence that a dragon rears its head right in the middle of a civil war, brother against brother, sister against sister. The fight wasn’t just against rebels, it was as if it was against the gods themselves.



"Come on. I'll feel better once we're under cover in Riverwood."

“Aye. I need to get out of this armor and into something lighter.”

Hadvar and Ardin decided to continue onwards to the small little hamlet by the aforementioned name. Riverwood, if attacked, would not stand a chance against dragon fire as Helgen did. In fact, Riverwood could barely stand any attack due to the combination of no walls, no city guard, and few men that could fight. He knew he had to warn Jarl Balgruuf of Whiterun. That way, they could send guards and maybe accept a few refugees. So far the indecisive Jarl has yet to pick a side in this war, but that will and must change soon. He has yet to answer Ulfric Stormcloak as well as General Tullius. The rebels will sack his city and he will have no protection. That would not happen if he sends his answer to the general. Time will soon tell, and hopefully he will make the right decision. The walk towards the town was unremarkable, much to both of their delight seeing how what had just transpired behind them.

“We're almost to Riverwood." The logging mill was now in sight just as the forge was. Something as simple as seeing another person after a near death experience was comforting. Even to a person like him who hates most of everybody. The hard smacking and clanking of hammer against steel could be heard, making Hadvar pick up the pace. Upon seeing a sooty, rough blacksmith, he gave out a sigh before leading towards the man, "Things look quiet enough here. Come on. There's my uncle." He signaled to the man with sooty beard and the dark rough apron wrapped around his waist. As soon as he caught sight of his nephew, he stopped to greet him.

"Uncle Alvor! Hello!"

"Hadvar? What are you doing here? Are you on leave from... Shor's bones, what happened to you, boy? Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"Shh.. Uncle, please. Keep your voice down. I'm fine. But we should go inside to talk."

"What's going on? And who's this?"

"He's a friend. Saved my life in fact. Come on, I'll explain everything, but we need to go inside."

"Okay, okay. Come inside, then. Sigrid will get you something to eat and you can tell me all about it."

The group of men entered the blacksmith’s humble home, and took a seat at the table while Alvor called his wife, "Sigrid! We have company!" you could hear the clanking of dishes and dust being swept as she came from the ground floor of their home. The table before them was covered in food, so it must have been time for dinner. Ardin gave a thankful nod for the seat and shelter while Alvor questioned his nephew.

"Now then, boy. What's the big mystery? What are you doing here, looking like you lost an argument with a cave bear?" Ardin had to bite his tongue to stop a snicker from what Alvor had just said. They had just sneaked passed a cave bear, and could’ lost more than an argument with it if they had tried to fight it. Hadvar downed the water that his aunt had just poured for him.

"I don't know where to start. You know I was assigned to General Tullius's guard. We were stopped in Helgen when we were attacked... by a dragon."

"A dragon? That's... ridiculous. You aren't drunk, are you boy?”

"Husband. Let him tell his story." The sweet sound of Sigrid’s voice made her husband nod and could quite frankly lull a cave bear to sleep.

“Not much more to tell. This dragon flew over and just wrecked the whole place. Mass confusion. I don't know if anyone else got out alive. I doubt I'd have made it out myself if not for my friend here. I need to get back to Solitude and let them know what's happened. I thought you could help us out. Food, supplies, a place to stay."

"Of course! Any friend of Hadvar's is a friend of mine. I'm glad to help however I can."

“You have my thanks, friends. If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask. Hadvar and I have been through hells and back, and his family is my family. My name is Ardin, by the way.” He extended his hand and gave Alvor a man’s shake as an expression of familiarity hit Alvor’s face after Sigrid spoke up.

“I know who you are. Hadvar has told us all about what you two have gone through in the Legion. I am glad you made it out alive.”

“Ah! So you’re the lad!,” Alvor gave out a big laugh as he patted Ardin on the back, ‘We wanted to thank you for pulling our stubborn nephew out of the jaws of oblivion. You’re now family, not just a friend.”

“I have heard stories of your work and your beautiful wife. I am glad we finally met. Can I ask something of you? I need a more casual set of armor and I know you do Iron well.” he gave a bow of the head to Sigrid after the compliment as she simply smiled with redness at the statement before turning to Alvor for a serious matter. The sun had gotten lower, and thus it got darker, sending people in to their houses or the local tavern, the sleeping giant inn.

“Woah there, boy. I can’t compete with you for my woman’s heart. Be careful or I’ll stab you in your sleep!” he gave a laugh before answering the next question, “Of course I can do that! Anything specific?

“I want a set of banded Iron, but I only want one pauldron and that would be the one held to it by the long piece of leather.”

“Interesting. I’ll do it. I’m sure you boys are exhausted by I have to ask something of you. But I need your help. We need your help. The Jarl needs to know if there's a dragon on the loose. Riverwood is defenseless... We need to get word to Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun to send whatever soldiers he can. If you'll do that for me, I'll be in your debt. You can change and take a bath downstairs. We have fresh clothes and the meat is just about ready.”

“Of course. I had already planned on doing so when we first arrived. Riverwood is defenseless seeing the lack of walls and not enough guards. I will set for Whiterun on the morn. You have my thanks.” Ardin proceeded to go down the stairs to shed his steel skin for a nice bath. His body was aching something fierce, and what he had just seen was a lot to go over in his mind. A dragon attacked, and he could’ve died right then and there, by fire, just like his home and family. He scrubbed the dirt and ash off his body, going over every scar and thought back to his life as a young child. He often misses the cool falls and the youthful carelessness and no fear of ever growing up, and running inside when he heard his mother’s sweet voice call him in for supper. He misses his father and how he taught him how to hunt, but more importantly showed Ardin the value of life not by killing, but by sparing. His parents were the reason he joined the legion in the first place. As a child, he couldn’t wait to grow up. After all, his parents will always be there, or so he thought. But that, unfortunately, did not hold true. Ever since it happened he has the feeling in the back of his mind that maybe if he stayed and didn’t try to be some traveling law bringer all of that wouldn’t have happened. In his heart he knew that his parents would want him to do what he felt was good and right, and would even die if that meant to do just that. Don’t look back. If you do, the gods will transform you into a pillar of salt.

Soon after, Ardin had food with his new ‘family’ and went to bed to rest from the traumatic day him and Hadvar had just gone through, and to make his way to Whiterun to send for help.
 

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