#Shot Blasting Barrow

[juancarloscarlos861]

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[zombholic]

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐀

summary - a new girl moved into your small town in montana but you guys start off of the wrong foot

description - poc fem!reader, modern!au, modern!abby, older abby, young reader, strong language, reader is the opposite of abby.

— 🎧　　 ◦ ✺ 　 📽　 ⟢ —

you had just came back home from work, exhausted as always having to close for the fourth time this week. pulling up to park your car at your assigned apartment parking space only to see a u-haul truck taking it up “are you fucking with me..” you had mumbled to yourself before turning on your emergency lights and got out to see who took your spot.

a blonde girl came walking down the stairs of the complex, sweat seeping through her fitted shirt as she came by to pick up more things in the truck, you had walked up to her with her arms crossing your chest “excuse me, you’re parked in my spot.” you tried not to sound so bitchy but you were already so irritated with work.

“no need for the attitude, i’m almost done.” her brow raised up giving you an annoyed look already “i- what? i didn’t give you an attitude— i’ll just wait for you to be done.” you almost proved her right then just decided to get back in your car and wait for her to move.

it had been at least twenty minutes and there was no sign of her moving the damn truck, you decided to just park on the street storming you way back, the cold dark weather not making it any better. walking up the stairs to your apartment you saw a welcoming doormat on what was supposed to be an empty apartment next door, the clues forming in your head.

knocking on the new girls door repeatedly until it finally flung open “what— oh, it’s you” she had a headset around her neck, licking her lips in annoyance “my parking spot? move your shit by tomorrow or—“ “or what?” she cut you off as she leaned against her door frame with her muscular arms crossed across her chest “or i’m gonna get your shit towed blondie” scoffing at her cockiness before opening the door to your home and slamming it shut.

— —

you couldn’t sleep all night with your new neighbor making so much ruckus it drove you mad, her tv blasting, furniture moving around, her constantly going in n out of her place. rolling out of bed you were contemplating if you should strangle her or not for not letting you have a peaceful slumber.

hearing a pretty loud knock on your door you spit out the toothpaste, dragging your feet on over to open your door “oh god— what do you want” you rolled your eyes at her already agitated with her presence “you gotta stick up your ass or something? i wanted to know if i could barrow a drill or something” your tongue rolled against your cheek before you let her inside.

“i don’t have many tools but..” you bent down to open your bottom cabinet in your kitchen “i have these” you pulled out a small girly tool box that made her actually laugh out loud “a pink tool box?�� she opened it to see if it was to any use “keep up that attitude and you’re leaving without any tools” she shot her hands up in defense “thank you neighbor” she grabbed the tools, right before she left you chimed in a question “why would you move here?” the question seemed to tense her up, her jaw clenching and her shoulders stiffened.

“uh- thanks for the tools” she shut your door behind her.

— 🎧　　 ◦ ✺ 　 📽　 ⟢ —

AUTHORS NOTE — be honest .. do yall want me to continue this series?

[thevoiceofthebard]

Chapter 11 - Uthgerd III: Bleak Falls Barrow

Middas, 20th of Last Seed 4E201 Afternoon

Uthgerd

"Any ideas?"

Talao ducks back behind our overlook of the entrance to Bleak Falls Barrow, where four bandits stand on guard. If their associates from the outpost down the mountain were anything to go by, they wouldn't be much trouble, but for their superior numbers.

"A few," he says. "Surprise will be to our advantage here. So try not to go yelling at them first this time."

I grimace, despite his neutral tone. The bandits at the outpost hadn't attacked us, but when one had called me a mud-crab lover as we left... Well, I suppose I was lucky there had been only one unseen bandit. I can still feel the sting in my side from the mace blow, despite my steel plate armour. "Of course. They're likely on alert in the first place, and we won't be able to approach too closely.

"Can we wait for nightfall?"

"Not possible. There's a storm on the way, within the next hour." In truth, probably sooner. The air is already more bitterly cold than it was just an hour ago. The sky is completely covered by dark, flat clouds, and the wind is picking up. "We need to be inside that barrow before it hits."

Talao crosses his arms, a thoughtful look on his face. "We can't go 'round the other side, thanks to that cliff, and they've two guards watching the path. Do you think the brush will cover us long enough to get within bow range?"

Another peek over the ridge. "If they aren't focused on it, yes. If I can make it to that tree, I'll have enough cover to draw.

Talao nods. "Likely our best choice. The guard overlooking the valley is isolated, and if you're lucky, his death won't alert the other three."

"Aye, if I'm lucky. I'd prefer another bow-hand rather than relying on luck." Blast, my mouth got away from me again. I don't really blame him, but it's frustrating enough.

"The only strings I've plucked are instruments', as I've told you before," he responds crossly. "My hands create art, not violence."

I notice snowflakes drifting into my vision. Damn. "No time. We can figure out how you've not died yet later, but it's now or never. Wait here; I don't need you getting in the way." And before he can reply, I slip over the ridge and slide into the sparse brush along the path. The coming winter has killed most of the foliage, but these shrubs stubbornly hang on to their leaves. No movement from the path guards, thankfully. They seem to be looking out on the plains, to the oncoming storm. My armour blends in a bit with the rocks as well, which helps.

The tree, when I reach it, is near a hundred yards from the guard, at my estimate. Not terribly far, but nothing to scoff at. I stand, nocking a steel arrow on my Orcish bow. Cost me quite a few Septims, but worth every one. I keep a second arrow held between my fingers as well, for quicker access. Two is all the time I'll get. The wind hasn't picked up yet, but there's a small steady breeze coming from the plains. I adjust my aim. The bandits are all wearing fur, so I go for a safe body shot.

Inhale. Pull.

Hold. Steady.

Exhale. Release.

The arrow is thrown through the air, and my second is nocked even before the first reaches its target. It lands true, punching deep into the bandit's chest, and he collapses without a sound. I quickly set up my second shot for the closest guard, before any of them notice. Just as I let it fly, I feel a slight gust, and curse as the arrow moves from its path, striking the guard in his left arm.

His screams of pain are clear over the wind, and I duck behind the tree once again. Is it worth drawing another arrow, or do I charge now? They're sure to know my general position now, but three on one odds are not easy to go against, however unskilled they might be. The longer I stall, the more organized they'll be, so I decide to drop the bow and charge the guards before they can rally.

I've always wondered what goes through the minds of bandits when they see a Nord woman as tall as they, sprinting at them in full plate armour, greatsword waving above. The first always seems surprised more than anything. This one is no different. The yards disappear and I finish the job my arrow started, driving my blade into the injured guard's gut before he can draw his weapon. He falls to the ground, silenced, and I move on.

Two left.

The last have finally drawn their weapons, though too late to save their fellow. They're also smart enough to approach me spread out so that I can't move them into each others' paths. No matter. Before they can attack, I shout a battle-cry, swinging at the guard on my right. Despite their shock and fear, he manages to deflect the cut with his own sword, though the force drives him to a knee. I send him sprawling back with a kick to the chest, turning just in time to parry a cut from the other guard's axe. I take the momentum into a downward cut, hoping to cleave off his arm, which he blocks with his shield. Surprisingly, both he and the shield hold steady, and he scores a solid hit to my already injured side. I lose my breath, pain shooting through my side, but I can tell the armor has held strong. I feint to his side, then flip my sword around his guard and thrust the tip through his neck.

The second always dies with fire in their eyes, cocky in the face of danger.

A shout from behind draws my attention back to the other guard I'd been fighting. I manage to dodge a wild thrust from his blade, but he tackles me, and I lose hold on my blade as he forces me to the ground. Still unrecovered from my last injury, losing my breath again so quickly after the last, I struggle to take in any breath at all, stars dancing in my vision. The bandit rips off my helmet somehow, or maybe it fell off from the impact on the stone ground, and he punches me in the face once, twice, sword seemingly forgotten, and I can see the terror in his eyes as I grab his forearm to stop him, even though I can't gain any leverage against him. Suddenly his free hand is on my throat and I still can't breathe, my vision is going black from the edge, and my ears sound filled with cotton, so I can faintly hear a shout, as the bandit looks up and then a dagger is sticking out of his eye

All at once I can hear and see and feel pain again. I yank the dagger out of his eye, and plunge it under his arm where I know his heart lies, and then the world is blessedly silent again but for the ragged gasps of my own breathing.

The last one always dies in fear, a coward to the end.

"Uthgerd! Uthgerd! Are you alright?!" Gods, that bloody bard will be the death of me, I can tell.

"I'll... I'll live," I gasp. He appears in my vision, offering an arm up. I wave it off and sit up, a wave of curses rolling off my tongue that would've had me over my mother's knee for the rest of my life. Okay, pain. Where? Side, obviously. That needs some attention right away. Throat, sore, will bruise terribly, but not life-threatening. Face, couple of knocks. Some blood from my mouth. I spit. Shit, there goes another tooth. That makes... Three now? Well, I've had worse scraps.

Talao is kneeling over the dead bandit by my side, and the details of the fight click in my head. "Did you throw that dagger?"

He starts, as though I'd interrupted some deep thought. "I... Yes, I did." He acts even more surprised than I feel, as if he doesn't believe it himself.

"Well... Damned fine aim there, I guess. Suppose you aren't useless in a fight after all." Slightly less useless, at least.

"But... No, I didn't mean to... I was only trying to distract him, not... It was an accident."

"Accident or not... You saved my life, Talao. For that, I'm grateful."

He perks up at this. "Yes, you're right. He wouldn't have hesitated to kill us both." A pause, the wind echoing around us, slightly muted by the towering entrance of the barrow. "Do you suppose they're here for the same reason as us? The artifact?"

I struggle to remember what Talao had told me about the treasure - bit difficult to think at the moment - the "Dragonstone." "A map of ancient dragon burial grounds? Highly doubtful, I should think. They aren't after something with no clear value like that. I imagine only the Jarl's wizard knows anything about it, let alone have any interest in it. They'd be after burial tributes. Gold and valuable buried with the deceased."

"Then why post so many guards? It's like they expected people to follow them... Perhaps there's some other treasure down there?"

Hmm. It's an interesting idea. But the light is quickly dying as the storm picks up. "We can discuss this further inside if we need to. Right now we need to take shelter."

"Right," Talao replies. "I'll grab the packs and your bow, and meet you at the door." I stand, grunting, as he heads back toward the ridge. I look out toward the plains of Whiterun Hold. On any other day, the sight would have been beautiful, but the oncoming storm robbed the vision of anything but dread. I've never really thought of the weather as anything great than that, or the influence of Kyne upon Nirn, but I can't help but feel as if this is a terrible sign - of terrible things to come. A herald of truly dark times.

Chapter 10 - Uthgerd II: Bleak Falls Barrow x Chapter 12 - Arvel I: Bleak Falls Barrow

[brendambois]

Express Engines pt1.

Bear was sitting sadly in a siding looking at his buffers. His engine (somehow) managed to intake a bucket full of Northwestern blue paint headed for the works. This lead Thopam looking around tidmouth yards for a replacement engine. His number 2 was getting a complete overhaul, numbers 5,3,,778, and d7501. Were busy with other jobs. Hatt as about to head back to his office to cancel the service when he noticed an Emrald green Sterling single dozing in a small goods shed. He walked up to his engine, "Emily", he boomed jolting her awake. "Yes sir"?! she said in a shocked tone. "Bear has accidentally taken a gallon of paint into his engine for tea, and he will have to go to the works", He said. "So. You need me to take him to the works?" She said. "No, I'll need you to take the Wild Nor' Wester service". Emily's steam pressure shot up sky high when she herd this. In only five minuets, Emily had shunted her train and sat in front of the first coach waiting anxiously for the guards whistle for what felt like hours untill, TWEEEEEEEET! Two whistle blasts replied as Emily, weeshing steam and puffing deeply, rolled out of Tidmouth station. Emily flew down the Northwestern mainline at speeds in what felt like ages. She passed every engine along the mainline, and at stations and junctions with a toot of her whistle and a flash of emerald green. It was exhilarating, the adrenaline flew like steam through the tubes and pipes in her metal body. She could feel herself go faster and faster as her pistons worked harder and harder, and before she new it, she was back at Tidmouth station. Was it that fast, did she really make it to Barrow and back? Apparently it was, because the next day, the Sodor Times released their latest article: "Victorian Era Sterling Single At Barrow-and-Furness draws large crowds", with an image of an awestruck, lost in thought Emily on the front page. Not ever, in her 100 plus years of living, had Emily ever felt so proud, glorious, and victorious.

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