#Skjor

[skjor]

what if they doggy bited you </3

[mai-col]

What can I say, I like them.

[amanrafromveranda]

Члены Круга (ебут друг друга)

[mujinzzzzz]

i have over 2,000 hours in skyrim and im just now learning you can tell all of the companions about skjor's death ??? have you always been able to ??? this is sad hello ??

[stymshots]

If I join you, can Jorrvaskr be Ourvaskr?

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

*at Skjor's funeral*

Kodlak Whitemane: *places his hand on the headstone and sobs*

Kodlak: How could you do this to me? We are so understaffed.

[somemaycallthisjunk]

Ah yes, the inner Circle of the Companions.

Vilkas, Farkas, Kodlak, Skjor, Aela, and Pigeon

[kookaburra1701]

WIP Wednesday: Katabasis

I was tagged by @saltymaplesyrup, @gilgamish, @moriche, and @dirty-bosmer last week, thank you, friends!

I am tagging you all back because I wasn't prepared for last week, also @tallmatcha and @expended-sleeper

Fandom: The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim Rating: T (blood and violence) Category: Gen Genre(s): Action/Adventure Main characters: Khemor gro-Skaven (Male Orc LDB), Calder, Gregor

Summary: A prequel for Nostos, detailing how Khemor went from a senior magus in the College of Whispers to becoming the Last Dragonborn, Thane of Windhelm and the Pale, confidant of Ulfric Stormcloak and traitor to the Empire.

Big thanks to @saltymaplesyrup for bringing the fact that Alduin's appearances are always heralded by absolutely atrocious weather and storms in-game to my attention. :]

=================================

A twig snapped to Calder’s left. He turned, hand on his axe.

“Hail, Companion,” Garmr said before Calder was able to pick out the figure standing at the edge of the glade.

“Hail,” answered a deep voice. A man stepped away from the tree where he had been leaning. The moonslight gleamed off of the wolfshead that adorned the armor he wore—and off the man’s bald pate. Calder and Garmr released their weapons, and approached.

“What business do the Companions have in Eastmarch?” Garmr’s tone was friendly, but authoritative.

The Companion’s eyes flickered to the snarling bears on their blue surcoats that set them apart from the common hold guards, but he smiled and his posture remained relaxed. “We were hired as an escort. Our patron desired fresh air.” He motioned northward, towards the clearing where a tall, robed figure stood with its back to them. “Mage from the south, traveling to the College.”

Calder squinted through the gloom, but the deep shadows obscured any movements the figure was making. A wizard from Cyrodiil? That warranted investigation; no telling what sort of mischief one of those could get up to, this close to Jarl Ulfric’s own city.

“I’ll have some questions for him, for our report.” Garmr seemed to share Calder’s suspicions.

“Of course.” The Companion led the way across the grass. “Sir,” he called out, voice carrying in the still night air. The figure turned, face shrouded by a deep hood.

“Is there a problem, Skjor?” the mage answered. His voice was deeper and more resonant than Skjor’s, and held a note of wariness.

“No problem, sir. Just a patrol with some questions. As I told you to expect.”

A barren hump of earth girded by a pale ring of stones appeared through the grass as they approached. The Companion’s patron had been staring at it.

“Hail, wizard,” Garmr said, in the deep voice he had started adopting since being promoted to second-in-command.

“Hail.” A puff of vapor accompanied the words from beneath the figure’s hood. The man was leaning heavily on a black cane topped by a handle of carved bone, his hands dark shapes against the white ivory.

A Redguard? From Cyrodiil, not Hammerfell? thought Calder. A chill chased its way down his spine.

“Damned early for a first snow—” said Skjor to Calder’s right. He was holding out a gloved hand, squinting at snowflakes settling on his palm.

Calder glanced up in confusion. The clear late-summer night of a few moments ago had vanished; the sky above him was thick with swirling white snowfall. It hit his face with tiny stinging needles of cold, and obscured his vision as it clung to his eyelashes.

[thelurkershideout]

summerfest day 7

companion or fallen

Notes: Warnings for blood, descriptions of injuries. I'm not sure this scene is exactly what I wanted it to be but I had a lot of fun with it. There's a good brother moment for Vilkas and Farkas that I really like!

The smell of blood filled Jorrvaskr as Vilkas slammed through the doors, half collapsing into a pillar as he lowered her to the floor. The last thing Gwyn heard was Skjor and Aela shouting.

When she woke she was on a table with Tilma leaning over her, carefully ministering to the claw marks across her chest. Her body was heavy, a freezing ache spread from her limbs. Eyelids barely open, the high ceiling of the main hall faded in and out of focus, just slightly too slow to sync with the pounding in her head.

“Are you sure?” Skjor’s harsh voice came from somewhere by her feet.

“I'm positive, it was Arnbjorn.” Vilkas grumbled back through what sounded like gritted teeth.

“Traitor.” Aela was nearer to her head than the others.

“Did he say anything?” Kodak was calm and soothing.

“Not much that I heard b- ow FARKAS!”

“If you held still this wouldn't hurt as much.” Farkas was trying not to sound bothered. Vilkas let out an exasperated and painted groan as Farkas returned to tending his wounds.

“He knew her name.” Vilkas’ teeth ground together.

“So he had been following you? And you didn't notice?” Aela’s voice seemed closer, was she pacing?

“He might have -” He cut off his own thoughts with a deep breath. “No, he didn't even seem to remember me, but he knew her.” 

Nausea gurgled up from Gwyn's stomach. Half focused memories flickered in her mind. The Sanctuary. Dark Hallways. Whispered threats. Arnbjorn’s pale eyes, constantly watching. 

“You think he was after her?” Skjor sounded unconvinced. 

“He lured me away, a trick for easier access to her.”

She wanted to speak. The nightmare had finally caught up to her, and she needed to explain herself.  Her head continued to pound, the pain in her chest was suffocating. Her first attempt at words came out a quiet groan.

“Shhhhh,” Tilma reached up to place a soothing hand on her forehead. Footsteps drew closer until Kodlak appeared opposite her. His face was calm, a hint of concern only noticeable in his brow. The metallic taste and smell of her own blood was nearly overwhelming. 

“D-dark,” she finally managed to barely squeak out a word. Kodlak’s hand replaced Tilma’s.

“Breathe slowly child,” Kodlak's voice was even and soothing. “Slow full breaths.”

Gwyn followed his words. Long slow breaths that strained against her bruised ribs. The nausea subsided slightly. The room was silent.

“Try again, Gwyn.”

“Dark,” the word clawed its way out of her throat. Jagged and sharp against her scream strained vocal chords. “Brotherhood.”

There was a long deafening silence. Kodlak's brow furrowed deeper, the concern seemed to shift to anger.

“The Dark Brotherhood?” Skjor finally broke the silence. “Are they hunting you?”

“Yess” she exhaled.

“Do you know why?”

“I-I…” her eyes squeezed shut as tears began to roll down her cheeks. “Left.”

More silence. No more running now. 

“You left the Dark Brotherhood?” It was Kodlak's voice directly above her. Gwyn didn't dare open her eyes.

This was it. Everything she had worked for, the years spent rebuilding herself, gone in an instant. Nausea crept back in. She was a liability. She would return to wandering, this time with a werewolf haunting her every move.

Hello little lamb. Arnbjorn's taunts echoed in her pounding head.

“You were an assassin?” Skjor nearly laughed. “She's lost too much blood to make any sense.”

“We should get her to a bed,” Tilma's voice was quiet.

“Put her in mine,” Vilkas volunteered quickly. “She'll need it more. I'll sleep with the welps.”

“You're all going to ignore this?” Aela's voice was angry.

“She's not exactly capable of coherent conversation, Aela.” Vilkas snapped back.

“We could be inviting the Dark Brotherhood into our home.”

“It does not matter.” Kodlak's voice cut off Vilkas before he could get a word out. “She took her oath, she has proved her honor. She is a Companion, and we take care of our own.”

Arms slid underneath her to lift her from the table. The warm light of the main hall was replaced with the cool dark of the downstairs. Her fellow recruits whispered amongst themselves as she was carried past.

“It looks worse than it is. She will recover.” Tilma said as she was lowered onto a bed. “She needs rest more than anything.”

A large hand rested on her shoulder.

“We will talk about this in the morning.” Kodlak's voice was firm.

[elderscrollsconfessions]

Confession: I always thought Skjor's death would have had more impact or just made more sense if you had found his body while he was in werewolf form, it kind of just looks like he didn't even bother to transform and then got immediately curbstomped. Typically when I get to that part he's also bent at a weird angle, like his knees and crotch are up in the air, which does not help.

[vodrae]

I've been thinking since 2015 about how the Companions could end their curse if the generation after the first cursed one just said "No lmao" when they got under the skyforge.

[mai-col]

Yes, the brainworms are well fed.

(Ria's line comes from the game. Yup, she's definitely an Aela fangirl.)

[found-family-tournament]

Found Family Tournament Round 1 Part 23 Group 114

Propaganda and further pictures under the cut

The Companions: Kodlak Whitemane, Skjor, Farkas, Vilkas, Aela the Huntress, Njada Stonearm, Ria, Athis, Torvar, Vignar Gray-Mane (& Brill, Eorlund Gray-Mane, Tilma the Haggard)

Iruma's Adopted Family: Suzuki Iruma, Opera, Sullivan

Submissions are still open!

The Companions:

The Companions are a guild of warriors stationed in Whiterun, one of Skyrim’s capital cities. Members of the Companions refer to each other as Shield-Siblings (“Shield-Brother/“Shield-Sister”). Although they claim not to recognize an official leader, Kodlak acts as the guild’s chief advisor and is viewed as a sort of father figure. The guild’s senior members (Kodlak, Skjor, Farkas, Vilkas, Aela) comprise a sub-faction called The Circle and secretly possess the ability to transform into werewolves.

Iruma's Adopted Family:

Iruma's parents sell him to a demon and instead of eating him that demon becomes his doting grandfather and buys him literally everything he could possibly want or need. Opera is his nonbinary catbutler and they are also super protective of Iruma they are all family they love each other Iruma loves them very much and appreciates them for removing him from his abusive parenrs

[oxalisvtesblog]

I like Hadvar, he's so sweet.

I like Skjor, he's so badass.

I like Fasendil, he's so dashing.

I like Tullius he's so… rude, irritable, insensitive, unsocial, awkward when he's drunk, mansplaining, actually quite impossible.

[stymshots]

They’re at it again.