Nadia Blueblossom
part time writer, full time crazy!
My first story to be posted on here. More will be added, but for now, I hope you enjoy! Comments and constructive criticism are welcomed. Note that this story is set in Madrars' version of Tamriel. If you're wondering what that's like you should totally check out his fic!
Origins: http://skyrimforum.com/sf/threads/origins.63051/
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Nadia stumbled from her cabin, rubbing sleep from her eyes. The young bretons' hair, a sandy blonde, reaching to base of her neck, was tousled from sleep. She wore a tan and brown coloured tunic, with a black vest over it. A pair of brow pants, and similiarly black boots finished her outfit. She went without even a simple dagger, the only item she currently had on her was her small coinpurse, dangling from her belt.
As her cabin, small, dark, and smelling of seawater and less pleasant things, was situated below deck. Desite not being able to see the sun or moons, she guessed it was barely dawn. Which begged the question: what had woken her? She'd long since grown used to the heaving of the wood beneath her as the Starry Ice rode the harsh waves of the sea of Ghosts. The trip from High Rock had been over a week, and she was one of the few passengers on board, destined for the port at Dawnstar.
From there, she planned to travel to the college of Winterhold, to learn the way of the mage. Her parents had argued against it. Harshly. Her father wished for her to marry into one of High Rocks' noble families, so that he could heighten his own standings, in the barony of Lainlyn, the region her family was from. He'd threatened to disinherit her if she didn't go along. But Nadia had always been stubborn. So she'd bought passage aboard a ship, and left the following day.
Back in the present, she furrowed her brow, concentrating. Something was wrong, but what? Then, the faint sound of blade crashing against blade, mixed with screams, drifted down to her. "Pirates" she whispered. What else could it be? For a moment, she considered retreating to her cabin, barricading the door....and then what? If she was lucky, she'd be killed. If she was unlucky- she shuddered and shook her head, unable to contemplate that fate. She would rather die quickly than be found cowering in her quarters by the intruders.
Swallowing the lump of fear in her throat, she summoned a small flame, orange in the center, paling towards the edges, and made for the top deck. The Starry Ice was not a large ship, and so it did not take Nadia long to arrive. A simple wooden door was the only barrier to the deck, and open air. The lump of fear was back in her throat, and refused to go away, no matter what she tried. But she couldn't go back now. She pushed the door open, and gasped at the battle outside. Dead sailors were scattered across the deck, and blood mixed with seawater.
The battle continued, but the pirates, big, burly men, wielding a variety of axes, sabres, and a few maces, had the clear advantage. One of the men, most likely a nord, rounded on her, hefting a short single-headed axe. Her breath catching in her throat, she staggered back, towards the rail of the deck. Lifting her hand, she prepared to send a gout of arcane fire at the man. Then her heel sank into something, costing her balance and concentration. She fell, the small of her back striking the railing, but her descent didn't stop there. She fell from the ship, hitting the turbulent water with a painful slap. The ice cold water blasted the air from her lungs in a shriek, and instantly soaking her clothes.
Frantically, she treaded water, but the cold water sapped her strength. It was all she could do to keep her head above the salty water. With darkness encroaching on her vision, movement caught her eye. A piece of driftwood, perhaps from the pirate vessels or the Starry Ice, she didn't know, and it didn't matter. She siezed it, getting as much of a secure grip as she could, and bobbed, helpless. As her conciousness faded, she thought she saw figures on the beach, but her energy was gone, and blackness claimed her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Sometime later, Nadia awoke. She could hear wind howling, but she didn't feel its' bite. She also heard voices, murmuring to one another. She smelled the smoke of a fire, and felt its' warmth, a welcome change from last time. Though, she still didn't know her exact situation. Cracking her eyes open, she stared up at a rocky ceiling, probably a cave.
"Look. She's waking up." Announced a mans voice. She realized she was wrapped in furs, though all but her underclothes were missing. She propped herself up her elbows, noting the fire she lay near, and four others sitting around it. The nearest, a bulky, blonde nord, a kind expression, placed a rough hand on her shoulder. "Welcome back to the land of the living." He said warmly, handing her a steaming mug.
She accepted it warily, her other hand keeping the furs from slipping away from her body. "Thank you." She murmured, staring down at the mug. The liquid within was steaming, and gave off a delicious, and somehow calming scent. "Tea?"
The nord nodded. "Aye. Menaeh can't go a single night without some." He nodded the figure sitting farthest away from the fire. The shadows shrouded most of their body, but as she stared, the person stirred, leaning forwards. She was a dunmer woman, with the usual red eyes, and grey skin. She had rusty brown coloured hair, tied with a strip of leather to form a single ponytail. One thin brow rose as she examined the breton girl.
"You're quite lucky. If Jorn hadn't seen you, we wouldn't be speaking." The dark elf said, her tone didn't carry any malice, but she got the sense the elf didn't like her very much.
The nord spoke again, "I'm Jorn." He said, smiling, briefly. "And it's not as bad as all that. Zeer was right behind me." He nodded to the third figure around the fire, clearly not human. His deep green eyes twinkling with cool intelligence, the argonian leaned forwards, his grey scales catching the light. Gold hoops were clasped around the pair of horns on his head.
"Greetings." He said, his voice as deep as the darkness of his eyes. "I am Zeer'Axith. Blade for hire." He gestured to the weapon beside him, a strange, one bladed weapon. "It is good you survived. The pirates have been menacing these waters for far too long." Jorn nodded in agreement.
"Be glad they are still here." The fourth man said, his voice indicating he was both male and older. Nadia glanced in his direction, and her suspicions were confirmed. He was clothed in a robe, the hood down, pouches hanging from his belt. The man himself was clearly older than the nord, and lines marking his face, and a light grey beard that extended to his chest. "Else we'd have weeks of work ahead of us, hunting them down."
Nadia frowned. "You're mercenaries?" She couldn't keep a hint of distaste from slipping into her voice. Despite their differences, both Nadia and her parents held little love for sellswords.
The older man chuckled, "not exactly. I, am Manchor Argees. A battle-mage of some renown. Surely you heard of my exploits during the sack of Wayrest?" When Nadia only shrugged and shook her head, the old man frowned. Only for a moment, then he waved his hand. "No matter, no matter. The point is, I'm more an adveturing mage, rather than mercenary. And while Zeer'Axith here introduces himself as a blade for hire, he's been at my side for nearly a decade now. As have Menaeh and Jorn."
At this point, Jorn broke in. " The jarl of Dawnstar asked us for help. These pirates have been harassing merchant ships for months. Your ship was only the latest to be attacked."
"What of you?" The argonian asked, "what brings you to Skyrim?"
Nadia glanced to the cave exit. "I was on my way to Winterhold. To attend the college there, and become...well, a proper mage."
Manchors bushy eyebrows rose in surprise, and she thought she detected a hint of approval. "A mage, hmm?" He fell silent for a moment, then glanced over at Jorn. The blonde haired nord nodded slightly. " A proposition, if you will. My ranger friend here," he nodded towards Jorn, "has tracked the pirates to an island near Winterhold. We could escort you to the college."
Nadia thought on his offer. The group didn't seem like the money-grubbing filthy mercenaries she'd heard about. Nor did they seem to want anything from her. And, they'd saved her from a miserable fate on the open sea. "Very well. I shall come with you."
Origins: http://skyrimforum.com/sf/threads/origins.63051/
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Chapter One
The Starry Ice, Sea of Ghosts
The Starry Ice, Sea of Ghosts
Nadia stumbled from her cabin, rubbing sleep from her eyes. The young bretons' hair, a sandy blonde, reaching to base of her neck, was tousled from sleep. She wore a tan and brown coloured tunic, with a black vest over it. A pair of brow pants, and similiarly black boots finished her outfit. She went without even a simple dagger, the only item she currently had on her was her small coinpurse, dangling from her belt.
As her cabin, small, dark, and smelling of seawater and less pleasant things, was situated below deck. Desite not being able to see the sun or moons, she guessed it was barely dawn. Which begged the question: what had woken her? She'd long since grown used to the heaving of the wood beneath her as the Starry Ice rode the harsh waves of the sea of Ghosts. The trip from High Rock had been over a week, and she was one of the few passengers on board, destined for the port at Dawnstar.
From there, she planned to travel to the college of Winterhold, to learn the way of the mage. Her parents had argued against it. Harshly. Her father wished for her to marry into one of High Rocks' noble families, so that he could heighten his own standings, in the barony of Lainlyn, the region her family was from. He'd threatened to disinherit her if she didn't go along. But Nadia had always been stubborn. So she'd bought passage aboard a ship, and left the following day.
Back in the present, she furrowed her brow, concentrating. Something was wrong, but what? Then, the faint sound of blade crashing against blade, mixed with screams, drifted down to her. "Pirates" she whispered. What else could it be? For a moment, she considered retreating to her cabin, barricading the door....and then what? If she was lucky, she'd be killed. If she was unlucky- she shuddered and shook her head, unable to contemplate that fate. She would rather die quickly than be found cowering in her quarters by the intruders.
Swallowing the lump of fear in her throat, she summoned a small flame, orange in the center, paling towards the edges, and made for the top deck. The Starry Ice was not a large ship, and so it did not take Nadia long to arrive. A simple wooden door was the only barrier to the deck, and open air. The lump of fear was back in her throat, and refused to go away, no matter what she tried. But she couldn't go back now. She pushed the door open, and gasped at the battle outside. Dead sailors were scattered across the deck, and blood mixed with seawater.
The battle continued, but the pirates, big, burly men, wielding a variety of axes, sabres, and a few maces, had the clear advantage. One of the men, most likely a nord, rounded on her, hefting a short single-headed axe. Her breath catching in her throat, she staggered back, towards the rail of the deck. Lifting her hand, she prepared to send a gout of arcane fire at the man. Then her heel sank into something, costing her balance and concentration. She fell, the small of her back striking the railing, but her descent didn't stop there. She fell from the ship, hitting the turbulent water with a painful slap. The ice cold water blasted the air from her lungs in a shriek, and instantly soaking her clothes.
Frantically, she treaded water, but the cold water sapped her strength. It was all she could do to keep her head above the salty water. With darkness encroaching on her vision, movement caught her eye. A piece of driftwood, perhaps from the pirate vessels or the Starry Ice, she didn't know, and it didn't matter. She siezed it, getting as much of a secure grip as she could, and bobbed, helpless. As her conciousness faded, she thought she saw figures on the beach, but her energy was gone, and blackness claimed her.
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"Look. She's waking up." Announced a mans voice. She realized she was wrapped in furs, though all but her underclothes were missing. She propped herself up her elbows, noting the fire she lay near, and four others sitting around it. The nearest, a bulky, blonde nord, a kind expression, placed a rough hand on her shoulder. "Welcome back to the land of the living." He said warmly, handing her a steaming mug.
She accepted it warily, her other hand keeping the furs from slipping away from her body. "Thank you." She murmured, staring down at the mug. The liquid within was steaming, and gave off a delicious, and somehow calming scent. "Tea?"
The nord nodded. "Aye. Menaeh can't go a single night without some." He nodded the figure sitting farthest away from the fire. The shadows shrouded most of their body, but as she stared, the person stirred, leaning forwards. She was a dunmer woman, with the usual red eyes, and grey skin. She had rusty brown coloured hair, tied with a strip of leather to form a single ponytail. One thin brow rose as she examined the breton girl.
"You're quite lucky. If Jorn hadn't seen you, we wouldn't be speaking." The dark elf said, her tone didn't carry any malice, but she got the sense the elf didn't like her very much.
The nord spoke again, "I'm Jorn." He said, smiling, briefly. "And it's not as bad as all that. Zeer was right behind me." He nodded to the third figure around the fire, clearly not human. His deep green eyes twinkling with cool intelligence, the argonian leaned forwards, his grey scales catching the light. Gold hoops were clasped around the pair of horns on his head.
"Greetings." He said, his voice as deep as the darkness of his eyes. "I am Zeer'Axith. Blade for hire." He gestured to the weapon beside him, a strange, one bladed weapon. "It is good you survived. The pirates have been menacing these waters for far too long." Jorn nodded in agreement.
"Be glad they are still here." The fourth man said, his voice indicating he was both male and older. Nadia glanced in his direction, and her suspicions were confirmed. He was clothed in a robe, the hood down, pouches hanging from his belt. The man himself was clearly older than the nord, and lines marking his face, and a light grey beard that extended to his chest. "Else we'd have weeks of work ahead of us, hunting them down."
Nadia frowned. "You're mercenaries?" She couldn't keep a hint of distaste from slipping into her voice. Despite their differences, both Nadia and her parents held little love for sellswords.
The older man chuckled, "not exactly. I, am Manchor Argees. A battle-mage of some renown. Surely you heard of my exploits during the sack of Wayrest?" When Nadia only shrugged and shook her head, the old man frowned. Only for a moment, then he waved his hand. "No matter, no matter. The point is, I'm more an adveturing mage, rather than mercenary. And while Zeer'Axith here introduces himself as a blade for hire, he's been at my side for nearly a decade now. As have Menaeh and Jorn."
At this point, Jorn broke in. " The jarl of Dawnstar asked us for help. These pirates have been harassing merchant ships for months. Your ship was only the latest to be attacked."
"What of you?" The argonian asked, "what brings you to Skyrim?"
Nadia glanced to the cave exit. "I was on my way to Winterhold. To attend the college there, and become...well, a proper mage."
Manchors bushy eyebrows rose in surprise, and she thought she detected a hint of approval. "A mage, hmm?" He fell silent for a moment, then glanced over at Jorn. The blonde haired nord nodded slightly. " A proposition, if you will. My ranger friend here," he nodded towards Jorn, "has tracked the pirates to an island near Winterhold. We could escort you to the college."
Nadia thought on his offer. The group didn't seem like the money-grubbing filthy mercenaries she'd heard about. Nor did they seem to want anything from her. And, they'd saved her from a miserable fate on the open sea. "Very well. I shall come with you."
